Lucianna

by Bertrice Small

  “I did suggest we needed a standing army to protect England. It would thwart challengers to the throne, for the king is not yet entirely secure. He actually agreed. Said he would choose several of the more martial of his lords to do so, as well as build a navy for England. I pointed out we must control our seas if we are to discourage foreign invasion.”

  “All very wise,” Lucianna said, “but that should not account for the exhaustion I see upon your face, my lord.”

  “I had to go home to my estates briefly, for I had not been there in months. I am the local magistrate, among other things. My bailiff and my steward can do only so much without my authority. Hereford is some distance from London, so they cannot send to ask my permission or opinion on every little issue that nonetheless requires my approval or disapproval. I rode alone, stopping only long enough to rest my horse in the dark hours. More times than not, we were in the open at night.”

  “And you hurried back the same way so as not to leave the king without your counsel for too long?” Lucianna finished for him as she sat him down by the hearth in her little hall. Then she put a goblet of strong red wine in his hand. “Can you remain?”

  He drank deeply, and then sitting back, sighed deeply. “Aye. May I take advantage of your kind offer from the last time we were together? To sleep here tonight?”

  “I told you, my lord, that you might make free to consider my little home yours when you are in London,” Lucianna said quietly. “I do not make offers lightly, Robert. Where is this Hereford of yours?”

  She sat down opposite him, hands folded neatly in her lap.

  “North and west. It borders Wales, which pleases the king. He is not ashamed of his Welsh heritage. Most of those surrounding him are English, but like the Tudors, my family is mixed with English and French,” the earl explained to her.

  “I understand,” she said. She wondered if she was gushing. She could not say it to him, of course, but she had missed his company. She had missed him. But despite his past kisses, she did not really understand his attentions. He suggested marriage, and yet Lucianna was not a fool. Would an English nobleman of an old family want a merchant’s daughter, a shopkeeper, for a wife? Lucianna somehow could not believe it.

  The color was beginning to come back into his face. “Lady Margaret would very much like to meet you,” he told her. “She has requested I bring you to her midmorning tomorrow. You must send to Baram to open the shop and manage your business. I believe he is capable, is he not?”

  “He is,” Lucianna agreed. “I will send one of my lads in the morning with a message for him to do so. Why does Lady Margaret wish to meet me? I am just a shopkeeper.”

  “Do not be modest, Lucianna,” he said to her. “You are far more than just a shopkeeper. The king’s mother is curious to learn if you can be of any use to her, or to the young queen. She asks to meet no one without a purpose, but I would have no idea what, for she does not often share her thoughts with anyone, wisely keeping her own counsel.”

  “I have never been to any royal court, Robert. What should I wear to meet a king’s mother?” she asked him.

  He chuckled. It was such a feminine question. “I would imagine your best day gown would suffice. This is not a formal occasion.”

  “Will the young queen be there?” Lucianna wondered aloud. “When I write to my mother, she would be thrilled to learn I had met a queen.”

  “I have no idea. Lady Margaret wants to meet you first, I would guess. She will take your measure, ask questions, and then if she likes you, she will probably invite the queen to join you. It is her usual way,” he explained. “She is a very wise and clever woman, else she could not have made her son a king, or survived the Yorkists, considering her activities during their reign. She was always carefully manuvering to see that Henry was in an advantageous position when the time came.”

  “She was a good and dutiful mother,” Lucianna said. “Much like my own mother. Orianna has always been involved in her children’s lives. Now she concentrates more on the boys, for my eldest brother, Marco, while sweet in nature, cannot seem to grasp being an adult. I can only imagine the misery he is in without his mistress. Giorgio, of course, makes her the proudest, being in Rome.”

  “And your twin brother?”

  Lucianna laughed. “Luca was always the soldier,” she said.

  The servants began bringing in a hot meal, and his hostess saw him to the high board, where she filled his plate not once, but twice.

  “You are not eating,” he observed.

  “I ate earlier. It suits my disposition,” Lucianna told him.

  “You keep country hours, up with the sun, and to bed soon after it sets,” he said with a smile as he helped himself to some cheese.

  “Shopkeepers are little different from country folk,” she agreed.

  After his meal, they sat again by the fire, talking quietly for a time. He told her of his home in Hereford. “It is pure country, green and lush. The Mintons have held it for several hundred years, and the earldom since the time of Henry the Fifth. One of my ancestors married an heiress whose family name was Lisle. When Henry the Fifth offered an earldom to him, he asked it bear the name of Lisle in her honor, for he loved her dearly.”

  “How lovely, and how very romantic,” Lucianna exclaimed.

  “I never actually considered it that way,” the earl said. “I suppose I am not a particularly romantic fellow.”

  Lucianna did not know if she agreed with his assessment, but she decided that would be a good time to end the evening, which she did.

  • • •

  In the morning, she awoke to find her tub already filled and awaiting her. Yawning, she exclaimed her surprise.

  “You’ll not go dirty to meet the king’s mother,” Balia said sternly.

  Lucianna laughed, thinking her mother would approve her tiring woman’s words. Getting up, she stripped her chemise off and climbed into the tub. Balia saw her scrubbed, and washed the golden hair with its reddish highlights. Once out of the tub, she was dried and seated by the fire while her hair was first toweled and then brushed dry. A clean long-sleeved camicia was followed by an underskirt, and finally a gown of dark green velvet with a small V-neckline. The neckline was embroidered with wide green and copper-colored braid that ran down the front of the gown and about the hem. The turned-back sleeves were also quite wide and trimmed with the same braid. A belt of the same material hung at hip length. It was an elegant and flattering gown. Lucianna wore it on the days she knew she would be receiving an important buyer. Today, she would wear a soft hood with a veil.

  She had eaten a small meal of hot oats and watered wine while Balia had brushed her hair dry. Although the king’s mother had requested her presence this morning, who knew when she would next see food again that day? If she was indeed the king’s silent adviser, Lady Margaret might have much more to do than chatter with a Florentine shopkeeper this day. Lucianna had heard that she would probably wait before she actually was ushered into that august lady’s presence.

  Balia now slipped a pair of low-heeled leather boots on her feet. “These will serve you better today than fancy slippers. With all this rain, these English streets are muddy.”

  Lucianna nodded, agreeing. Besides, she knew no one would look at her feet. They would be far more interested in the jewelry she was wearing. About her neck was a short gold chain from which hung a small gold crucifix. She slipped several different rings on her fingers.

  Standing, Lucianna now viewed herself in the beautiful full-length mirror she had brought with her from Florence. It had been a gift from her grandfather in Venice upon her marriage, and she treasured it. She smiled, pleased by what she saw. Yes, she would do her family and Florence proud this day.

  Balia chuckled at the look of satisfaction upon her mistress’s face.

  “Yes, you are beautiful, and the king’s mother will not find
you wanting, my lady. Now hurry, for the earl is waiting for you.”

  Downstairs, Robert Minton’s eyes showed his pleasure in her appearance. Balia gave him time for a good look, and then she silently placed a dark green wool cape lined in warm marten about Lucianna’s shoulders, handing her a pair of dark leather gloves lined in silk. Outside, the horses awaited them, for they would ride to Lady Margaret Beaufort’s house.

  It was cold, and there was no sun, but there was also no wind. They rode through the busy streets, keeping to the center and listening for the warning cry of “Ware!” as an occasional night jar was emptied from above. It was not a great distance to Lady Margaret’s house, and upon arriving, their horses were taken, and they were shown inside.

  Lucianna shivered as they were taken to a small antechamber to await their summoning. “I cannot quite get used to this damp cold,” she said, rubbing her gloved hands together and holding them over the small fire available to them.

  “It is not as damp in the country,” he answered her. “It is cold in Hereford, but not dank as it is here in the city. It is the river, and the nearness of the sea, of course.” He drew a small straight-backed chair next to the fireplace. “Sit down,” he said.

  She accepted his invitation, and after a few minutes the heat of the flames in the small hearth began to warm her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she pulled off her gloves, tucking them in an inside pocket of the fur-lined cape. “Ah, this is better,” she told him.

  The door opened and a black-robed priest entered the room. “Good morning, Robert,” he said, and he smiled at Lucianna, who had risen out of respect. “This will be Mistress Pietro d’Angelo,” he remarked, with another smile. “She has sent me to fetch you. I am Father John Fisher, Lady Margaret’s confessor. You need not come, Robert, but are free to wait for Mistress Pietro d’Angelo.”

  The earl quickly removed Lucianna’s cape and gave her a small smile. “I’ll find you when you are ready to depart,” he promised.

  Lucianna followed the priest, who swiftly led her from the antechamber down a hallway, opening a door at its end to usher her inside. There were two or three ladies seated within the chamber, who smiled at her in a friendly fashion. Then the door to another room opened, and a tall woman emerged as the others came to their feet, curtsying.

  She had a face that was long rather than round. Her eyes were round and dark blue, with elegantly arched brows above them. Her nose was long and extremely aristocratic. Her mouth was neat and small. She was garbed in a beautiful, elegant dark gown, her only jewelry being a simple, heavy, red-gold cross. Upon her head she wore a silk veil such as a lady would wear in her home. “Good morrow, Mistress Pietro d’Angelo,” she greeted Lucianna as she seated herself in a tall-backed upholstered chair. “Please,” she invited, “come and sit by me.” She indicated an upholstered stool by her chair. “Thank you, Father.”

  The priest nodded, and departed the chamber.

  Lucianna curtsied first, and then sat as she had been directed, saying, “Thank you, madame.”

  “Robert tells me you are quite fluent in the English language. I am impressed, for it is a difficult language to learn. There will be times, however, when I will speak to you in Italian because I do not want our conversation overheard. I believe my Italian to be fairly acceptable.” The last sentence was spoken in Lucianna’s own language. “Yes?”

  “Indeed, madame, yes,” the younger woman said politely.

  “Tell me how you like London. Is it very different from your Florence?” Lady Margaret inquired.

  “I like London very much, but then I have been a city dweller my whole life, but for a few months in the summer when we went to my parents’ villa in the Tuscan hills,” Lucianna explained. “Both cities are old and busy, but we have gates to certain roads. I have seen no such gates in London.”

  “You are a widow.” It was a statement.

  “Yes. My husband was many years my senior. He was a kind man, and I was fond of him. I like to believe I made his last years a comfort. I am told it is so, but I think a woman is always concerned as to whether she is doing her best by her lord.”

  “A good woman is,” Lady Margaret responded, her voice approving. The girl seemed intelligent and kind. She would not have been as concerned as she was in Lucianna’s character, but Robert Minton had hinted to her of his interest in the Florentine girl.

  Indeed, she seemed more girl than woman. “Tell me about your shop. I understand the silk merchants’ guild in Florence sent you to represent them. Why a woman? Is not such an undertaking more a man’s task?”

  “Milan seems to believe so,” Lucianna said, “but in Florence our guild is more enlightened.”

  “And cleverer,” Lady Margaret noted, with a small smile.

  “My father is head of our guild. I was sent because I knew the business of silk, and it was believed a woman could present it better. I can, too. Now that we have managed to keep the street upon which my shop is located free of young men coming to see the phenomenon I seem to be, my sales have become quite brisk.”

  “The Milanese will give you some competition when they arrive,” Lady Margaret noted.

  “Their silk is inferior to ours, as a discerning eye will quickly discover. That is why the silks His Majesty sent the Earl of Lisle to purchase came from our shops, and not Milan’s,” Lucianna said proudly. “My father personally traded with the China folk in his younger days. Only when he married my mother did he cease his travels and send a representative.”

  “Does your mother come from a silk family?” the older woman asked Lucianna.

  “Oh no! My mother is a daughter of Prince Alessandro Venier, a Venetian. She was very outspoken as a girl, and to add to that, her dower portion was small. While her older sisters had married into Venice society, none sought her. My father had frequently sailed east from Venice. He admired her beauty and spirit. When he learned that she had no hope of marrying because of what were considered her flaws, he was daring enough to offer for her. He says he fully expected Prince Venier to throw him into a canal for his boldness,” Lucianna said with a small smile. “Instead, my grandfather accepted his offer, with the condition he cease traveling, and my parents were married.”

  “Was your mother happy to finally be wed?”

  Now Lucianna laughed. “No. She fancied herself in love with another, and she decided Florence was gloomy compared to Venice. Nonetheless, she made my father an excellent wife, for she understands her duty. I am one of seven siblings, and our mother has had a strong hand in raising us.”

  “Are you said to be like her?” Lady Margaret asked candidly.

  “I don’t believe so. My sister Francesca is more like her. She was wed to the Duke of Terreno Boscoso. He was murdered by a servant in the pay of the French, but Francesca saw this traitor executed, and now rules the duchy while her son grows into manhood.”

  “Ah, now there is a woman I can understand,” Lady Margaret said. “My son was born to a deceased Lancaster lord, and I had to see him protected, for he was in line for the throne—especially once the two little Yorkist princes disappeared and King Richard’s only son was killed in battle. So your sister protecting her son’s inheritance is most understandable.”

  The two women spoke a while longer before Lady Margaret said, “I have kept you too long from your place of business, Mistress Pietro d’Angelo.” She stood, and Lucianna did too. “Thank you so much for coming and satisfying an old woman’s curiosity.”

  “Why, my lady,” Lucianna said ingenuously, “you are not old.”

  “You are kind, my dear, to say so,” Lady Margaret answered her. “Lady Mary, please help my guest find the earl.”

  Lucianna curtsied deeply and then was ushered out by Lady Mary, who said, once they were free of being heard, “You could not have said a kinder thing to her, Mistress Pietro d’Angelo. She is not really old, of course, but she worries a
bout not being here to help the king. She is a very good mother.”

  “Indeed, I could see her concern for the king,” Lucianna responded.

  Lady Mary brought Lucianna back to the same antechamber. “You wait here, my dear. I will find the earl for you.” With a polite curtsy, the two women parted.

  Lucianna sat down to wait for Robert. It had been a very interesting meeting, and she would write to her mother in great detail about it. She knew how much Orianna would enjoy learning everything her daughter could tell her about the king of England’s mother—and how very much Orianna would enjoy bragging about her daughter’s small adventure. She imagined it was difficult for Orianna to deal with the gossip that was certain to be circulating about her third daughter’s travels and business in England. It had been difficult for her mother to accept an elderly bookseller as a son-in-law when she had always hoped to make great and grand marriages for her girls. Hopefully, Lucianna thought with a smile, she would gain her heart’s desire with the baby of the family.

  The door to the room opened, and the earl stepped in. “Did you enjoy meeting Lady Margaret?” he asked her. “She is a most fascinating woman to my mind.”

  “I found her charming,” Lucianna said. “And most gracious to me. She did not appear to be a king’s mother in attitude.”

  “She is too wise for that,” Robert noted. “Here is your cloak.” He carefully put it about her shoulders.

  “It is warm!” Lucianna exclaimed, surprised.

  “It’s been toasted by one of the kitchen fires,” he told her, with a smile. “Where do you wish to go? To your shop, or your home?”

  “Where will you go after you deliver me?” Lucianna asked as she carefully fastened her cloak.

  He looked surprised by her query. “I hadn’t considered it,” he said. “I did not know how long Lady Margaret would keep you, and so I planned nothing else for this day.”