A great deal had happened since Francesca had left Florence, and her mother's few letters had said little other than that the wool merchants were having difficulties, as England was now weaving its own cloth. Orianna had also mentioned that Milan was now manufacturing silk in compet.i.tion with Florence, although she said the weave of their own silk was tighter, which made the material softer. But Milan's silk was less expensive. Orianna wrote nothing of politics.

Before Francesca had returned from her grandfather's house in Venice and prior to her journey to Terreno Boscoso, a rival family to the di Medici, the Pazzi, encouraged by the pope, had attempted to a.s.sa.s.sinate the di Medici brothers in Florence's cathedral. Lorenzo's younger brother, Giuliano di Medici, had been killed. Lorenzo was wounded but fought off his attackers. The archbishop and several priests were involved. The Pazzi had been certain the Florentine population would rise in support of them. Instead the citizens of the republic turned against them as the great bell, the vacca, was tolled in the Palazzo della Signoria. The di Medici family was popular with the people of the city. They identified with them. The Pazzi, however, were descendants of an ancient n.o.ble family, and they never forgot it. Florence sided with Lorenzo di Medici.

The archbishop and all those considered part of the conspiracy or sympathetic to it were caught and hanged from the windows of the Palazzo della Signoria. There was very little mercy shown to them. Some were sentenced to prison. Lorenzo's own sister was married to a Pazzi, but her husband had had no part in the conspiracy and was merely confined to his villa for a brief time. All evidence of the Pazzi family was removed from Florentine history. They were totally disgraced. The pope's involvement in the plot was made public.

The utter defeat of the Pazzi family roused total fury in their Roman enemies. Florentine bankers and merchants in Rome were arrested, but then released, for the pope had been reminded of his kinsman, Cardinal Riario, who lived in Florence. But it did not stop the Holy Father from taking all the di Medici a.s.sets, both property and gold, that he could find in Rome. Then the pope forgave the enormous debt owed by the Vatican to the di Medicis.

In Florence the di Medicis grit their teeth at this economic blow. But the pope was not finished with his revenge. He sent his nuncio with an order of excommunication against the di Medici family, Lorenzo in particular, and the entire elected Florentine government. They were to be turned over to papal justice; their homes were to be destroyed and their properties confiscated. Of course, none of this was enforceable, and the arrival of a Turkish force in southern Italy brought all the Italian states together again to fight the infidel who was their common enemy. A delegation of important Florentine citizens went to Rome, muttered an apology to the pope that no one could hear, and were forgiven in equally muted tones. The Turks withdrew with the death of their sultan, and peace came to Italy.

In Terreno Boscoso these things became known only when Raoul du Barry returned from Florence and told them. The duchy was so small that no one had ever paid a great deal of heed to it. It had been at peace for centuries with its more powerful neighbors. It had no army, and nothing anyone else would want unless they sought more territory. But before the Frenchman departed for his own home he mentioned that the di Medici banking system appeared to be failing.

"I am not surprised," Francesca told her husband. "Lorenzo is not the man for business that his grandfather was."

"It is fortunate we have never used their bank," Duke t.i.tus said. "We are too small for the di Medici to bother with, although I must one day remember to thank Lorenzo de Medici for sending you to us, my daughter."

"If the di Medici banking system is failing," Francesca said worriedly, "my father's business will be involved. He has always kept his monies with them. I hope he will not lose by his loyalty to the di Medicis."

But like many in Florence, Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo found it difficult to believe that the always-reliable di Medici bank was having difficulty. The di Medici banking system had always been there for Florence's citizens. Unfortunately not having a brilliant business mind at its head had taken a toll. Its branch managers had been allowed too much lat.i.tude. The general manager of the di Medici banking enterprise had not been chosen wisely. He was a man who was afraid to speak frankly to his master and always delayed bad news, thereby making the problem worse than it would have been.

Too much money had been loaned out to England's King Edward IV, causing the London branch to fail, as well as the one in Milan. The branches in Naples, Lyon, and Rome were all in jeopardy. There was too much incompetence on the part of those picked by Lorenzo to direct his family business. Lorenzo admitted to not understanding a great deal about his family's financial empire. Hearing that, Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo withdrew his remaining monies from the di Medici bank and placed them with a smaller but more conservative bank owned by a Jewish goldsmith, Jacobo Kira.

The di Medici bank in Florence could not refuse to give the silk merchant his monies. As head of his guild Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo was an important man in his own small way. His actions affected only himself. He made no public display of his decision. The di Medicis had always been generous to his family, but he could not allow Lorenzo's att.i.tude to destroy their security. He still had two daughters to marry off.

As it was, the economic climate was no longer a particularly prosperous one for the silk trade. Even his wealthy clients were spending less and less. Removing his monies from the failing di Medici banking system had been his way of protecting his family as times grew harder. Orianna was instructed to make changes in the way she spent her household allowance. Fortunately he had previously purchased his son Georgio's place in the church. His second son had been educated for the priesthood and only recently been ordained. At nineteen he was a secretary to a cardinal. It had been an expensive position to obtain, but the silk merchant was glad he had done it. His second son's future was now secure, for which he was glad. With the silk trade becoming less lucrative there was room only for his eldest son, Marco, in his business. Some of this Orianna wrote to Francesca, but not all.

"My madre is afraid," the young d.u.c.h.essa told her husband. "The world is changing around her and too quickly."

"The world does not change here in Terreno Boscoso," Rafaello answered his wife. "We remain the same no matter what happens around us."

"That is comforting," Francesca responded, "but I think perhaps now we cannot help but be affected as everyone else around us is. If Florence changes, then so does the rest of the world."

He laughed at her. "You are so serious, my love," he said. "You must not be."

But Francesca worried. Her husband did not see things with a woman's eye. He settled fairly and equitably the small disputes brought to him by his citizens. He hunted. He played chess with his father. His d.u.c.h.essa, however, saw that the harvest that summer was not as bounteous as in past years. She heard the rumors in the marketplace of the French incursions on their far border. So far, however, that had been nothing more than a patrol or two straying across the invisible line between the two countries. She mentioned it to Rafaello, but he did not appear concerned.

"The borderlands are porous," he told her. "The French and the Savoyards stray across the boundaries. They mean no harm."

Francesca was surprised by his words as she realized how sheltered in his little duchy her handsome husband was. No one had ever attacked or coveted Terreno Boscoso, but Francesca knew that larger powers did not encroach upon the territories of smaller ones by accident. If Francesca had learned one lesson from her mother it was to be aware of anything that would affect her life. Unlike her charming husband and his dear father, she was suspicious of French activity.

Old Duke t.i.tus realized her concern and sought to allay it. "Over the years the French and Savoyards have encroached on our lands, but they never remain. There is nothing here for them."

"There is land," Francesca replied. "King Louis recently inherited Anjou. He has secured it, and appropriated not only Anjou, but Le Maine and Provence as well," she explained to the elderly man. "His wife is a Savoyard. Adding Terreno Boscoso to his possessions would give the French an easy pa.s.sage into the Italian states. If the French invade us from the north and west, the Milanese would feel threatened and would come up from the south to protect themselves. Caught in the middle between these two powers, Terreno Boscoso could be destroyed."

"We must trust in G.o.d and the fact that we have never threatened our neighbors," Duke t.i.tus said. He turned to his son. "What think you of this, my son?"

"I agree with my father," Rafaello replied, to Francesca's frustration.

"Autumn is here," her father-in-law said, "and winter will be upon us before you know it. No one goes to war in winter."

Francesca had to take their word on this matter, but she was still concerned. Growing up in Florence she had learned the lessons of history and political maneuvering well. But her father-in-law was correct when he said most wars did not begin in winter.

As the days grew shorter and the winds blew from the north, the young d.u.c.h.essa recalled her adventures of the previous year in the forest. She a.s.sumed Alonza was now at the woodland inn, and that the huntsmen were beginning to slowly come to their winter shelter once again. Francesca wondered if the innkeeper had found a suitable serving wench to help her this season. She was almost tempted to suggest they visit the inn, but knew that would but raise suspicions in her husband's mind about Carlo. Still, she could not help but wonder about the huntsman who had so briefly been her almost-lover.

The winter holidays came, and they had been wed for six months. Francesca was concerned because there was yet no sign of a child on her part. Rafaello's childhood friend, Valiant, had visited the castle briefly. Louisa had given him one child and was already expecting another. Even poor Aceline du Barry had quickened swiftly after her a.s.sault. Her mother had borne seven healthy children, a rarity in their world. Yet Francesca seemed unable to conceive. She felt guilty, because she knew one of her a.s.sets as a bride had been the fertility shown by her mother. What if she were barren? It was unthinkable! She confided her fears to Terza.

"You are barely wed," her faithful maidservant said. "Besides, it took old Duke t.i.tus almost ten years to produce his only child. It is always the woman who is blamed, but what if the man's seed is not fertile?" Terza asked practically.

Terza's words, however, did little to rea.s.sure Francesca. Her duty was to produce an heir for Terreno Boscoso. Her seeming inability to conceive was very disturbing.

The winter deepened and was extremely hard. The north winds blew steadily. It seemed to snow every day until everything was white. The mountains beyond the castle, the tower roofs, the town. The courtyard was being constantly shoveled so that the stables could be reached and the animals fed. When two chickens froze in the night, the birds were brought into the kitchens, penned there for their own safety.

Everyone seemed to be suffering from the weather, sniffling and sneezing. Keeping warm was difficult, and then Duke t.i.tus began to cough. At first he seemed no worse off than everyone else in the castle, but his cough would not go away. Indeed it grew worse, deepening and sounding thick. Francesca dosed him as best she could. She fed him hot soup and rubbed his chest with a mixture of goose fat and peppermint. She kept him dressed warmly, and when he was strong enough to sit in the hall she saw that he was wrapped in a fur coverlet.

But the old duke grew worse despite her nursing diligence. He was suddenly quiet and would not eat. It reached a point where even Francesca could not get hot wine and herbs into her father-in-law to ease his cough. His body grew frail and shook so hard that she feared he would injure himself. "He is dying," she told Rafaello. "I can do no more, my lord husband."

The young duke nodded. He had eyes. If he had one regret it was that his father would not live to see a grandchild. "How long do you think he can survive?" he asked his wife. "If he could live until spring perhaps he would grow strong again."

Francesca shook her head. "Terza says he will die at any time now. He is not strong enough to last much longer, and certainly not until spring, which is two months away, my lord. I am sorry. I have done my best."

"I know you have," Rafaello replied, his eyes filling with tears as he looked at her.

Her own tear-filled eyes met his, and it was in that same moment that Francesca got the oddest sensation. Her husband's wonderful dark green eyes with their golden lights reminded her of something or someone, but she could not put her finger on it. Shaking off the strange feeling, she put her arms about Rafaello to comfort him. "We will do our best by our father, my lord," Francesca said softly.

Duke t.i.tus died several days later. Before he closed his eyes that final time, he had called his son and Francesca to him, giving them his blessing. The bells in the little town's cathedral tolled his pa.s.sing, and Duke Rafaello ordered a mourning period of two months. The old duke was interred in the family vault, which was located deep in the bowels of the castle itself. Francesca was thankful they had not had to dig a grave, for the frozen earth would not have yielded easily until the spring thaw.

And eventually winter began to release its hold on Terreno Boscoso. The snows melted slowly from the nearby hillsides, although the high mountain peaks beyond remained white. There were patches of green here and there. The winds began to come again from the south some mornings. The sun shone more and more each day. And then when the danger of snow seemed past, word came from travelers along the High Road that the French were moving a small military force into Terreno Boscoso.

"I knew it!" Francesca said. "Last year's incursion was to see if there would be any resistance, and of course there wasn't, because this duchy has never been threatened."

"There has to be a mistake," Rafaello insisted.

"There is no mistake. The French want something of you. They know we have no armies to contest their incursion. You will have to wait to see just what it is they want. We cannot wait too long, however. If you do not at least protest their incursion they will believe the duchy is theirs for the taking."

"Perhaps they will withdraw," the young duke suggested.

Madre di Dios, he is so trusting of the world, Francesca thought. Well, she would be patient. After all he had not been raised in her father's house in the city of Florence. He could not imagine the machinations that went on among the powerful. "First," she said to him, "we should learn who has ordered this force to invade our territories. If it is some minor lord we will protest to the French king and send to Milan for aid. But if it is King Louis himself we have a greater problem, and Milan must be notified, else they believe we are in collusion with the French. Remember that Milan's duke is a child. His mother and uncles are quarreling among themselves for his authority. News of a French incursion will not please the Spanish either."

"How are you so knowledgeable in such matters?" he asked her.

"If you had grown up in Florence, my lord, you would know these things too," she told him. "The world is a hard place, but you have been so sheltered here in your little duchy that you are not aware of such matters. Men of wealth and power always seek more wealth and more power. We will set a watch on the High Road and wait to see what will happen. Remember, my lord, that nothing ever remains the same. The world is always changing, and changing whether we will it or no."

They did not wait long. Several days later a small party of French arrived. It was led by the Comte du Barry, which surprised Francesca. What mischief was this man up to? She thought their kindness of the previous year had been accepted. Obviously it had not.

Francesca spoke privily to her husband before they greeted the Frenchman and his party.

"Do not accuse, but ask him what purpose he has encroaching upon our lands," she said. "He should know you are aware of the French presence and disturbed by it."

Rafaello nodded, and then together they went into the castle's hall to greet their unwelcome visitors. "My lord du Barry," the duke said by way of greeting.

The comte bowed. "I bring you greetings from King Louis, my lord duke."

"While I am flattered, I am puzzled as to why France's king would trouble himself with me," the duke responded. "Certainly I hold no importance for King Louis."

"There you are wrong," the comte answered him. "Terreno Boscoso is of great interest to the king."

"Why?" the duke asked.

"It offers an easy gateway into the Italian states where Spain is interfering. King Louis would like to have your fealty, my lord duke. He needs to know his armies may pa.s.s through your little duchy unimpeded if needs be," the Comte du Barry responded.

"Terreno Boscoso has never taken sides in any conflict between the larger powers. If I swear fealty to France, then Milan will feel threatened. France will not come to my aid if that be the case. My duchy will end up being menaced from all sides. If your king invades the Italian states again as he did several years ago, let France's armies pa.s.s the same way as they did before," the duke told the Frenchman.

"The northern route takes longer, and time could be of the essence," the comte protested. "France needs to come through Terreno Boscoso if necessary. You cannot be permitted to refuse King Louis!"

The duke signaled his servants to bring wine, hoping his hospitality would cool the Frenchman's rising temper. The foreign delegation accepted the goblets offered.

"I am amazed that King Louis even knows of our existence," Francesca murmured. The duchy had been left in peace for centuries. They had never taken sides in any of the disputes that arose between larger powers. How had the French king even come to know of Terreno Boscoso?

"King Louis is very well informed on all matters," the Comte du Barry replied in answer to her query. Then he turned back to the duke. "I have with me a doc.u.ment for you to sign, my lord. In return for your fealty King Louis will defend your rights and that of your heirs to rule this duchy in perpetuity."

Rafaello burst out laughing. "The Cesare family is descended from the Caesars, and have held this territory since ancient times. Times before your king's original ancestors even came into existence. The first ruler of this duchy was a Roman general, t.i.tus Flavius Caesar. I do not need King Louis's permission to rule, nor for my descendants to rule. We have held this land for centuries, my lord. I will not permit my people to be put in danger by the squabbling of great lords and kings."

"You have no armies," the Comte du Barry pointed out.

"We have never needed any," Rafaello responded. "We are neutral."

"If you do not cooperate with King Louis we will take Terreno Boscoso from you in his name," the Comte du Barry threatened.

"I will protest to Milan and to Florence," the duke said, his temper beginning to rise with every pa.s.sing minute.

"Neither will aid you," the Frenchman replied smugly. "Milan's duke is a child caught in a power struggle between his uncle and his mother. As for Florence, the di Medicis are too busy attempting to salvage their crumbling banking empire to be bothered with an unimportant duchy that holds nothing of value for them."

"If it is explained that your king wants my lands so he may invade the Italian states easily, both Florence and Milan may think better of my plea for help," the duke said.

The Comte du Barry shrugged. "There is peace between us right now. King Louis considers the future. Both Milan and Florence are too far away to be bothered with you. Sign the doc.u.ment I have brought you, and you will continue to remain at peace."

Francesca murmured something to her husband, and the duke said, "I must think on it, my lord. I am content to offer you and your delegation hospitality for the night, but tomorrow you must be gone."

The Comte du Barry bowed politely in response.

Francesca excused herself from the hall. She didn't like being stared at by some of the comte's companions. They had been eyeing her as if she were some prize to be gained. This is a dangerous situation, she thought. She spoke to Piero as she departed, telling him to see that their guests were well fed and housed in the hall overnight, even the Comte du Barry. "Take care for your master's safety. I do not trust these men," she warned him, and the servant nodded. Francesca hurried to her own apartments.

"What is happening?" Terza asked her. "Roza said she saw that the Comte du Barry is among those men now in the hall."

"He is," the d.u.c.h.essa answered her serving woman. "King Louis has sent him to demand that the duke swear fealty to France."

"How did an unimportant fellow like that become a king's messenger?" Terza asked aloud. "And how did the French king learn about our little duchy? And why would he seek the duke's fealty?"

"I do not know the answers to any of your queries, but these are questions that will need answers, and quickly," Francesca said. "When my lord has fed and settled these unwelcome guests he will come to me so we may discuss it." She did not tell Terza that the French wanted easy access into the Italian states and would come through the duchy if there was war again.

Francesca dismissed her serving women and waited for her husband to join her. When he did his handsome face was grim. She poured them both some wine from the tray on the sideboard in her dayroom. Then together they sat by the hearth and talked.

"Not only do the French want easy access to our neighbors to the south," he began, "they want to quarter troops here as well. Terreno Boscoso has never in our long history been occupied by a foreign power," Rafaello told her. "I cannot allow it, yet if I forbid it they will force themselves upon us. Du Barry even hinted that our lives are at risk if I refuse them. I do not understand the French king's sudden need for my duchy."

"We might have hidden from public knowledge the fact that you signed an agreement with France and swore fealty to King Louis, but we cannot keep secret an occupying force," Francesca said. "Because we have no army of our own we are at a huge disadvantage with all of our neighbors. You will refuse this demand, of course."

He nodded. "Du Barry cannot force his king on me now, for he has not enough men with him. If I call King Louis's bluff he may let this go. The truth is that if he wanted to move his armies through the duchy we could not stop him. I do not understand this need to gain my fealty," Rafaello said.

"Perhaps this was not King Louis's idea. Perhaps it was du Barry who brought us to his attention and has convinced him of the wisdom of having Terreno Boscoso in his purview. I remember Aceline bragging to Louisa and me that her father was a cousin of Louis's queen, Charlotte of Savoy. This kinship would give him a certain easy access to the French court."

"But why is he doing this?" Rafaello asked his wife. "Can you divine his reasoning?"

"He seeks revenge for what happened to his daughter. I believed the knowledge that you were not responsible for her child and our kindness in arranging for Santa Maria del Fiore to give Aceline and her infant a home would have contented him. But he is angry, for his daughter had value to his family as a marriage prize. If you did not choose her, he had another man eager to take her to wife. That was another thing she bragged about. Her father sent her here at your father's invitation in the hopes of gaining a duke for a son-in-law, but the other man was very wealthy, according to Aceline.

"The Comte du Barry has a guilty conscience because he did not send enough men-at-arms to guard his daughter in her travels here to Terreno Boscoso. He requested of your father that he feed and house these men until a decision was made one way or another. Duke t.i.tus appreciated the comte's practical side. But having so few men escort his daughter home in early autumn was the cause of her unfortunate tragedy. Raoul du Barry knows this on one hand, but on the other he wants to hold Terreno Boscoso responsible for what befell his daughter. It is not our fault, but du Barry is unable to see that now. Revenging himself on us will not change what has happened, but regretfully you will not be able to convince him of that."

"I will refuse him, refuse King Louis. I have no choice in the matter. We are a sovereign nation. I will not permit the troops of another nation to occupy us," Rafaello said. "I must take the chance that having said no the French will permit the matter to drop, and we will hear no more of it."

"And if they don't?" Francesca asked her husband. "What will you do then? Have you considered it, my lord?"

"I don't know what I will do," he admitted to her. "I could keep a pact of fealty between me and the French secret, but there is no way I can keep it secret if French troops march into my duchy and remain."

Was he correct in his a.s.sessment of their situation? Francesca honestly didn't know. What she did understand was that this was a dangerous situation in which they now found themselves. She had no experience in governing, and so she could offer her husband little advice. However, she did realize that whatever he did, Rafaello was taking a chance when he defied the French. Yet du Barry was correct when he said that neither Milan nor Florence would come to their aid, being too involved in their own difficulties right now. Silently she d.a.m.ned Raoul du Barry, whose parsimony had cost his daughter so much misery and would now cost them.

Neither the duke nor his d.u.c.h.essa felt like making love that night. They slept restlessly in each other's arms, waking with the dawn. Freshly bathed and dressed they descended together into the castle's Great Hall. Rafaello had wanted to go alone, but Francesca insisted her place was by his side at all times.

"It will not be pleasant," he said.

"But we will stand together," she replied.

Their guests were already breaking their fast. The Comte du Barry rose from his place at the high board as the duke and d.u.c.h.essa joined him.

"Have you made your decision, my lord?" the Frenchman said, and reseated himself as they sat.

"I have," Rafaello answered him.

"And that decision is?" the comte persisted.

"You already know," the duke told him. "I cannot in good conscience sign a treaty of any kind with France, my lord. Terreno Boscoso has been a sovereign realm since the days of t.i.tus Flavius, its first lord. The key to our survival has been our neutrality, and so we will remain. We will not favor any side, as we have done all these centuries. I would not offend King Louis, but neither can I offend my other neighbors. If your king needed to access my lands in time of war I could not prevent him from doing so. Yet the French have always taken an even more northern route into the south. Your king has my respect, but I will not cede my duchy to him."

"I beg you to reconsider, my lord," the Comte du Barry said with false courtesy.

"You ask the impossible of us, my lord," the duke replied. "When you have finished your meal I will expect you and your men to depart."

The Comte du Barry acknowledged this request with a polite nod, but then he turned to Francesca. "Tell me, madam. Do you agree with your husband's decision?"

"I do," she answered, "and if I may speak frankly, my lord, I find it ridiculous that King Louis would attempt to take our little duchy from its rightful ruler. Terreno Boscoso has never been a threat to any of its neighbors." She was surprised that he would ask her such a question, as if he expected her to publicly disagree with her husband.

"My king consolidates his own rights, madam," the comte answered her. "He has already this year annexed Burgundy, and will soon possess both Artois and Franche-Comte. With the death of his brother, King Louis has also seen Guyenne revert into his hands. France is a mighty power."