by Maggi Petton
“Thank you, Robert.” Just before she closed the doors behind him she turned and asked, “What have you named your son?”
Beaming, Robert answered, “Giovanni, after his grandfather.”
Catherine was delighted that Robert named his son after his father-in-law. Lord Giovanni was the sweetest, most gentle man Catherine had ever known. And he was her most ardent supporter on the Privy Council. His nature was playful and endearing, although he was able to debate and make his points as well as any of the noblemen. Lord Giovanni was a big, round, soft man with a face as open and kind as a child’s. Catherine found that nothing warmed her more than the man’s hearty laugh. And, although it was not allowed to touch the queen, Lord Giovanni sometimes forgot himself in his affection for Catherine and spontaneously pulled her into a great hug. Someone present always pointed out the inappropriateness of his gesture and he would stop immediately and apologize, mortified with himself for the impropriety. Catherine always forgave him instantly and reassured him with a smile. The fact was that she loved when he hugged her. It was one of the few, spontaneous gestures of affection she had ever known.
Lord Giovanni informed Robert that talk during the meal continued to focus on speculation over the queen’s absence.
Catherine swept regally through the double doors into the meeting room where the Privy Council had just finished their midday meal. The large rectangular table was cleared and they were, again, prepared to work. Two large southern facing windows allowed in light from the sun. The windows were opened, as the October day was one full of sun and warmth.
All members rose and bowed as she entered. She took her place at the head of the table. Her Privy Council was a small one, as Privy Councils go. But the kingdom was small, tucked away in the foothills of the Apennines, and not as wealthy as surrounding kingdoms. In general, monarchs relied heavily on their Privy Councils. While Catherine was no exception, she was very cautious of their advice.
“My Noble Lords, Your Grace, my apologies for neglecting to dine with you. I hope you enjoyed your meal.” She gave thought to making an excuse, perhaps of feeling poorly, but in the end decided she need not make an excuse at all. If they wanted a reason for her absence, they would have to ask her for one. She doubted any of them would. Nevertheless, she worried that her happiness and the nature of her relationship with Bella was a truth that might show in her face. She made every effort to mask her feelings.
“As usual, Your Majesty, the meal was quite good,” said Lord Navona coolly.
Lord Navona from Abbadia, in the central part of the kingdom was one of the Council who tended to go along with whatever Bishop Capshaw recommended. He was a slight fellow who had inherited a good deal of land from his father and grandfather. In spite of his small stature, he was an able administrator who hired even abler farmhands. As a result, his farms were some of the biggest growers of produce in all the Kingdom of Montalcino. Navona supplied a good part of northern Italy with produce. If he weren’t so narrow-minded and intent on agreeing with everything the bishop said, Catherine might have even liked him. As it was, she tolerated him much the way one puts up with a relative whose views embarrass most everyone in the family, but whom, nonetheless, is family and, therefore, comes with the territory. Lord Navona was a distant cousin of King Edward, Catherine’s father. She remembered how he used to support her father, even when everyone else disagreed. It was only since her father’s death that Navona tended siding with the bishop.
“Very good, gentlemen,” Catherine said, “then without haste I should like to deal with our most pressing issues only today. I am most concerned about the continuation of these rogue attacks upon our citizens by groups proclaiming to be acting on behalf of the Pope. Your Grace, have you any news for us? Have any of the perpetrators been identified?” she inquired.
“Not as yet, Your Majesty. I have, however, sent a delegate out to several districts to meet with the priests in each parish.”
“A single delegate?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, Your Majesty. There have been no attacks in nearly a month,” he said, referring to the attack on Bella’s family. “I saw no need to hire more than one delegate. The attacks have been so random and widespread that, quite honestly, I fear we will never find the culprits,” replied the Bishop with little concern.
“Never finding the culprits sounds like what we intend, Your Grace. One delegate out roaming the country will be an easy target. Are you not concerned for his safety?”
“He is a capable man, Your Highness, skilled and adept at handling himself. You needn’t fear.” The Bishop’s disdain for his Queen’s questioning of him was reflected in his response. He kept his eyes on his papers and did not look at her.
“What I fear is more attacks,” said the queen. “What do the rest of you hear from your districts?” She looked around the table.
Lord Bagglioni was a man for himself. From Roccalbegna, he was ancient. He was invited to be on the Privy Council during the reign of Catherine’s grandmother, Queen Anne. Roccalbegna was south of Abbadia and also had the fertile land of Abbadia. Although Bagglioni did not possess as much land as Lord Navona, he was wealthy from his family’s years of good farming. Bagglioni was able to serve on the Council because his extended family continued to run the business and care for his land and home. It was he who responded first.
“Your Majesty, my lesser lords and nobles are afraid for themselves and their families. Especially since they heard what happened to Lord James and his family, who was from a greater house and not safe,” he paused, and then added, “How does his daughter fare?”
At the mention of Isabella, Catherine felt herself flush. A vision of Bella’s body shimmering in the moonlight swirled up and clouded her vision. Catherine’s memories transported her to her bed and into Bella’s arms. Her body responded to the memories of the past days distracting her until Lord Bagglioni’s voice, insistent and concerned brought her back to the room.
“Majesty. Majesty?”
Catherine struggled to focus. “Yes. I am sorry, Lord Bagglioni. You asked?”
“I asked how Lord James’ daughter was recovering.”
Catherine shook the visions of Bella from her. Her fear took over as she worried that her love, and lovemaking, was evident to her Council, especially the bishop.
“Lady Isabella is finally nearing a full return to health,” she responded with as much detachment as she could muster. “It is kind of you to inquire. But even her physical recovery will not banish the hideousness of the deeds done by these marauders. If we do not find them and bring them to justice I fear none of us are safe.”
She turned to the Bishop, “Your Grace, I would like you to consult with General Moretti on this matter. I have ordered him to begin his own investigation into these illegal activities.” Catherine noted and ignored how the bishop’s eyes narrowed in anger. “While I appreciate your desire to be frugal in the matter,” she continued, “we must place more resources at your disposal to conduct this investigation. And we must assume that since the attacks are so widespread this group is not recognized by the people they are attacking. Since they do not appear to limit themselves to a small area, I believe that the strategies of a military man like General Moretti would lend themselves to tracking them down. As General Moretti has oversight of the borders throughout the kingdom, he may be able to monitor the problem in ways we have not considered.”
Lord Como, from Scansano, nearest the Mediterranean, was a large, loud, opinionated man who could easily dominate the Council if he had a mind to do so. Although he came across as quite uncouth, King Edward always appreciated his honesty. He was outspoken in his views. One day when Catherine complained to her father that she did not like Como, her father said, “My dear, the thing to remember about Lord Como, especially when he is at his loudest, is that you always know where he stands on an issue.” Catherine was more observant of Como after that, finally realizing that her father was absolutely right. No one cou
ld ever accuse Lord Como of hiding his intentions or feelings about a topic. Como was neither supporter of the bishop, nor a supporter of the monarchy. Como was for himself. That was the clearest thing about him. He was the first to respond to Catherine’s plan to put Moretti on the problem.
“That is a sound idea, Majesty. I will alert my vassals to cooperate with Moretti in any way possible.”
There was a general consensus of agreement that made it unwise for the Bishop to disagree.
Lord Carfaggi cleared his throat. Catherine ignored him. Carfaggi was as hateful and deceitful a man as Catherine had ever known. Along with the Bishop, Carfaggi was an ardent detractor. A misogynist, like the bishop, he was recommended by Thomas Capshaw for the council position. At that time Catherine’s father was still under the impression that he and Thomas Capshaw were fighting on the same side of the battle against Rome. Little did King Edward know that Carfaggi, cousin to Cardinal Carafa, had come at the insistence of Carafa in Rome. Carfaggi, like Cardinal Carafa, was in total support of the Inquisition as it had been conducted in Spain by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. Carfaggi believed that Spain’s relentless purge of heretics was for the good of the Church. Humorless and stiff, with a drawn, pinched face, everything about Lord Carfaggi grated on Catherine’s nerves.
Before she could bring up another agenda topic, Lord Carfaggi raised the issue of marriage.
“Your Majesty, please assure the Council that you have given thought, as we have requested on numerous occasions, to marriage.”
The queen drew herself up, “My Lords, we have been over this time and again. While I appreciate your interest in my producing an heir, I have no inclination to marry at this time.”
“Perhaps, your Majesty, it is a matter of finding a suitable match,” said Lord Romeo.
Lord Romeo from Arcidosso was a treasure. He had only daughters, fifteen of them, and while he adored every one of them, he found them too much to handle after the death of his wife. Lord Romeo was of a more contemplative nature and the noise and bustle of a home with that many women was more than he was inclined toward without his wife. She had managed an orderly and quiet home for him. He could not bear being there without her. His daughters were old enough to manage the estate. The five older ones were married and able to care for the younger girls. The youngest was now thirteen. He visited them often enough, but was happy for his life and his role in the running of the kingdom. Lord Romeo was thoughtful and intelligent when considering all issues as a councilmember. Catherine was often inclined to listen carefully to what Romeo had to say. She knew he did not offer his advice without thoroughly having investigated all sides of a matter.
“With all due respect, Lord Romeo, there is no suitable match available, at least not that has been presented,” Catherine was becoming irritated and had to work to control her feelings on this issue.
“Majesty,” said Lord Novona, “while we understand that you are not inclined to marry for marriage sake, we beg you to consider your subjects. An heir is imperative to the people who rely on the continuation of your line. Your own father would advise you in this, I am convinced.”
“The king,” Catherine replied, “would encourage us all to consider my subjects, as he always did, but I am not inclined to pursue this issue at present.” She did not like where this was leading.
“Majesty,” the Bishop gave a slight nod, “we believe we have addressed your concerns about marrying.”
Catherine hated this discussion. The whole idea of marriage had always infuriated her, as they well knew. Why could they not let the matter alone? She was still young, just nineteen, and knew that this was more about envisioning her successor than insuring the continuation of her line. They couldn’t care less about her line, all they cared about was their own power and wealth and what would give them more control of that. She refused to let them bully her into marriage.
“The matter is closed, gentlemen.” Catherine stood. “I will not discuss it again.”
“Majesty, do you not even wish to know who we have found for you?” said Lord Carfaggi incredulously. He produced a list of acceptable candidates and proceeded to pass it to her.
She glared at Carfaggi. “The matter is closed. I will leave you to attend to your other affairs of state. I will expect a report on the current output of the paper mill by this afternoon.”
Catherine left the room in a swirl of barely controlled anger.
When she arrived back at her quarters, Marie was rushing out of the room with a bucket of foul smelling vomit.
“Marie,” she stopped the servant, “what is it?”
“Majesty, the Lady Isabella has taken ill. She has been vomiting since you left.”
“Thank you, Marie, carry on,” Catherine said as she rushed into the room.
She found Bella lying on her pallet, pale as a ghost. “Bella, what is it?” Catherine ran to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Bella said weakly, “please don’t be overly concerned. “I am already feeling better. It’s probably just something I ingested. It will pass.”
All of Catherine’s fears, all of her anguish regarding her relationship with Bella came rushing to the surface. In spite of her decision to accept her love for Bella as God’s gift, regardless of the ability to push aside her anxiety, she continued to struggle with an inherent belief that her love for Bella was wrong and that, eventually, she and Bella would be punished for their sin.
“I will not leave your side until I am convinced,” said Catherine as she moved to the pallet stroking Bella’s hair until she fell asleep. But all the while her thoughts raced with fear of losing Bella.
Bella woke later that afternoon and looked considerably better. Catherine was reassured, but remained concerned as Bella had little appetite that evening. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she still looked tired.
Following a game of backgammon, Catherine called for a bath. Whatever questions or suspicions the servants had about the relationship between their queen and Bella, no one dared speak of it. Marie dutifully filled the bath and left the women alone for the evening.
The evening bath routine established during Bella’s convalescence was reduced to twice weekly, with the exception that warm affection was replaced by sensual play. Bath time was no longer just for cleansing and comforting the body, it was prelude to physical exploration.
“You do look better this evening.” Catherine said, still concerned.
“You worry too much, my love.”
“Perhaps,” said Catherine as she slipped into the tub opposite Bella, “but perhaps that’s a response to your nonchalance.”
“I promise if I am not better soon I will call for the physician myself.” Bella smiled in such a way that Catherine just shook her head.
“I will hold you to that promise,” Catherine insisted.
“What’s on your agenda tomorrow?” asked Bella as she lifted Catherine’s foot from the water and tenderly worked her thumbs into the arch.
“I ended today’s Privy Council meeting fairly abruptly.” Catherine told Bella about the pressure to marry and how the meeting ended. Bella furrowed her brow. Catherine continued, “I suppose I will attempt to meet with the bishop. He is sorely mistaken if he thinks I will simply allow him to delegate one man to hunt for an entire band of killers.”
“I cannot imagine he will be open to further suggestions.” Bella lifted Catherine’s other foot.
“Mmmm. That feels nice. No, he will likely protest about the cost. If I pressure him and fund the search, he is more likely to make some effort. Also, tomorrow I will meet with Father Tim.”
“He is the priest you like so much?”
“Mmm hmm.” Catherine smiled as Bella’s hands left her feet and worked their way up her leg.
Catherine pulled Bella toward her and drew the sponge over her shoulders and down her back. Bella turned in the tub and leaned back into Catherine. They sat quietly for a while, Catherine tracing a delicate finge
r down Bella’s sternum and around her nipples until the nipples became erect and Bella moaned softly.
“Water’s cooling…let’s get out.” Bella stood and pulled Catherine to standing. They stepped out of the tub and reached for towels. Catherine started to dry Bella’s back, but Bella turned and grabbed Catherine playfully, pulling her, still dripping, against her.
“I will never tire of how miraculous your skin feels against mine,” Catherine whispered hoarsely as she led Bella to the pallet. Bella seemed over her bout of illness, as evidenced by her energy as she made love to Catherine. They fell asleep on the pallet wrapped within one another.
The next morning when Bella woke, the vomiting returned. Alarmed, Catherine insisted that the physician be called. Bella begged her to wait.
“Catherine, please, it’s nothing. I have struggled with this in the past. Give me today before you call for the physician. I promise that if I am not well by tomorrow I will allow you to call him.”
“I do not like this, especially after all you have been through. Why are you so resistant? What if it’s something serious? What if you’re worse tomorrow?”
“I am tired only, and just wish to rest this morning, my love.” But she ran for the bucket.
“Marie will stay with you this morning,” Catherine insisted. “I’ll return for the midday meal. Perhaps if you are not feeling better you will see reason in calling the physician.”
Bella smiled weakly and went to lie down. The bucket remained at her side.
Chapter Eleven
One day each week Catherine met secretly with Father Timothy, a priest from Castiglione d’ Orcia. Under the guise of a ride with her Captain of the Guard, she and Robert stole into the forest and met with Father Tim to discuss the latest rounds of accusations leveled at innocent subjects. Father Tim was as gentle a soul as Catherine had known. She learned of him when he arrived at the interrogation of one of her subjects by the bishop. Surprisingly, he affected a release of the innocent parishioner from the bishop’s grasp. Father Tim was articulate and knew well his scripture. Catherine found in him an ally to fight the battle against the Inquisition.
