Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to For King and Court. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Locked Topic
the girl who would be Queen; tag: WillSpencer
Topic Started: Jan 24 2011, 11:26 AM (380 Views)
Queen Francesca de' Medici
Unregistered

February 1501

Letting out a shrill laugh, with hands full of stolen oranges from the garden of Cardinal Sforza, the little slip of a five-year old stole down the arcade in the cloisters of her father’s palace. Somewhere far away, the echoes of an angry nurse could be heard, yelling at her charge to take her geography lessons with one of the great scholars of the time. Francesca ignored all that. That morning, she had been taken to the orange orchard near the palazzo to study, on account of the inordinately good weather they had been experiencing this February. The place was technically the property of Cardinal Sforza, but he had opened it up to his Medici friends. Taking advantage of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza’s kindness, Francesca had climbed a particularly bountiful tree and plucked from it the best oranges she could find. It was then that, finding her tutor distracted with a serving girl, Francesca ran from the orchard and back to the palace, triumphant in her escape.

She would run past to the stables and beg the stable boy to take her to the Vatican palace so she could play with Giovanna. He would be given the oranges as a reward for his services (and to take the blame off Francesca’s five-year-old hands), while Francesca camped out in the Vatican until her father had to send Uncle Giulio or Giuliano to retrieve her.

Her father was busy anyway. A strange man had arrived that morning with a rather pompous retinue and asked for the Cardinal. They seemed to know each other, and Francesca concluded that they had met when the Cardinal was travelling through France or some such place. Certainly, the man spoke French, but that was no indication of nationality nowadays. Brought up fluent in the language, she nonetheless felt uneasy about the man that she had heard being called something like de Guise. The two men had retreated back to her father’s study and walled themselves in. Francesca would have given anything to be able to listen, but after the last about five times she was caught eavesdropping, Giovanni had installed new supports for the door. Now the only way Francesca could eavesdrop would be if someone had a ladder or gave her a leg up. She had given up for now, but soon her little mind would turn in other ways to find a way in. She always did.

The luxury of the courtyard knew no bounds but Francesca was used to it. The heavy smell of oranges and lemons from the orchard cloaked the scent of the streets of Rome effectively. In the centre was a Donatello bronze casting of Judith and Holofernes overlooking the stony courtyard. The small trees in pots surrounding it were scented flowers, now just preparing for their first bloom. Remarkable pieces of art decked the corners and the intricate stone carving of the Corinthian columns and marble archways were designed to impress. One could not expect less from the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Such treasures were only hints at the true wealth of the Medici, the one that they left behind in Firenze.

The way Francesca stepped easily around the large and priceless statues was indication that she had done this before. Daring to peer back from behind her, she lowered her voice when she heard her father’s low guffaw with that of the strange man. Yet, this prevented her from seeing the boy in front of her. When she turned back, her eyes met his, but she could not stop in time, and they collided. Oranges rolled out of her hands as she scrambled to pick them up, rubbing her scratched knee precariously. Turning her large black eyes, she narrowed them at the boy. ”You ruined my oranges!” She said accusingly, ”My daddy will hear of this!”
Goto Top
 
William Spencer
Member Avatar
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
William Spencer had grown quite used to his new circumstances in life, even if they brought him away from France and away from his siblings and friends. He had been set to accompany his uncle, the Comte de Guise, on an excursion to Italy. It was hardly an academic visit but rather a warlike one. Italian Wars had been going on for some time, and his uncle had set to the task of preserving the rights of the Anjou line to the Kingdom of Naples. De Guise had inherited the Angevin claim to it from his uncle, Charles IV Duke of Anjou and King of Naples, and it had not exactly been as simple as all that. William's other uncle had died in the task, and de Guise had been required to fight over it. A fight which he had finally won, although the fighting was hardly over. William doubted it would ever be over.

He had originally been meant to go with his uncle and his cousin, but his cousin had been sick most of his life and had died. He was quite certain that the reason for him going was still the same: one day he would inherit the same claim from de Guise. Nobody had ever thought the man's son would make it to adulthood; thus, the need for William. The need was just more clear now that the man seemed destined to not have viable sons. A common plague in the Anjou line it would seem, especially in the last three or four generations. The reason why William's birth had been far more exciting for his French family than his English one which was perfectly fine with William. What boy would not wish to be where he was wanted?

The lean, tall twelve year old with a blue doublet to match his eyes, was the presumptive heir to his uncle, the Viceroy. That also made him the presumptive heir to all that was his grandfather's as well. For the first time everything seemed to be coming together rather nicely for William. As his father's second son, he had been destined to get nothing from him other than noble blood and the trappings of it. But as the heir to his French lines, he would be titled and inherit lands and money. It did not take more than the mind of a twelve year old to know that his situation had changed from one of dedicated service hoping to earn a title through combination of merit and his kinship to the King and future King, to one of entitlement and privilege. So long as his uncle did not manage another son which everyone seemed doubtful of as his wife was past good age for it. No, William Spencer, son of an English father, would one day be a French duke and had the benefit of being a childhood friend of the future king and the godson of the current king. There could be no better set-up in life, and he was grateful to God for sending him such simple circumstances even if he had to play attendant to his uncle for years, doing his every bidding. Such was the way of life. One must learn to obey before he could learn to command. So he would do his duties as valet and listen and learn.

William had accompanied de Guise to the Cardinal's palace and had stayed dutifully standing behind him to his right, holding the required gift needed for an exchange between two great men. It had not been overly long before he had been dismissed once pleasantries and a lot of simple talk were concluded. It was almost a blessing. While William rather learned a lot listening to talk and strategy and the like, it was tedious to stand there like a statue with a bunch of men (or just two) sitting around talking and drinking. He sometimes felt like an end-table with arms. Or a gargoyle.

He's walked through the grand hallways and out into the courtyard, knowing that he would have some time before he was sent for or they were leaving. The ground were astounding, and he had found himself rather liking Italy. The weather was quite fine too.

Turning down the way, he saw a little girl playing and smiled a bit, walking about aimlessly with his hands behind his back. As he went to walk by, he was not expecting the girl to change course and run right into his stomach. He tried to put his arms around to grab her to prevent her from falling, but the bounty of oranges and the girl fell prey to his larger form.

"Mi dispiace," he said, apologizing in Italian, even as the girl turned to him imperiously and...said she was going to tell her father on him? "And who is your father?" he asked in the same language, quirking a brow as he knelt down to help her pick up her 'ruined' oranges. He would not assume that she was the daughter of a Cardinal, because who would assume that. Men of cloth were not supposed to have children. Although, he was not keen on the idea of being 'told on', as any such thing (no matter how ridiculous) was likely to be met with a severe reaction from his uncle. A man of paramount importance. How many times William had heard about now representing a kingdom. His uncle expected perfection and unquestioned obedience and diligence. Breaking rules, expectations, or standards of behaviour were just not going to be tolerated in the least. Not that they ever were.

"They are most fine, that is why they have rind, is it not?" He held one of the oranges up and examined it with a shrug. "I am more concerned about your knee, are you all right?"
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Queen Francesca de' Medici
Unregistered


The young girl looked up at her attacker with a pout, taking the oranges back without giving thanks. Childishly, she pulled her dress up to look at her knee. Only a small scratch, it was not bleeding, but Francesca realized she had broken some sort of rule with this action and looked up at the boy. He was tall, Francesca didn’t know how tall, but to her, he seemed like a tower, so she stood on tiptoe, her round black eyes raised up to see his face.

”The Cardinal Giovanni, of course!” As if everyone should have known it. Francesca never met anyone that didn’t know, really. Almost making it to seem like the most natural thing in the world, the five year old didn’t see any discrepancies between herself being the daughter of a cardinal and the idea that a cardinal was supposed to be celibate. It didn’t seem like anyone had thought to tell her the real meaning of celibacy.

Shaking her hair, messing it up even more than it already was, she stepped away from the boy suspiciously, and backed into a Corinthian column, her back pressed against the strong marble, the carved images of a Roman goddess pressed against her delicate skin. ”I’m okay. Those oranges are for my father.” The lie came easily from her lips. Even at five years old, Francesca was intelligent. She had gathered from observation that whenever her father’s name was mentioned in association with something, people would hesitate. The ploy was something Francesca was used to already, something she had developed a habit into doing.

Brushing the dirt off her fine dress, of the most expensive Eastern silk, Francesca looked quite a little heathen. She was as dark as a gypsy, a result of her ambling about the gardens escaping her maids. Her olive skin was tanned dark, with her dark hair falling about her, landing in her eyes and down a tangled mess on her back. There was nothing about the girl that suggested that she was trained in the womanly arts and educated in the classics, except for her imperious bearing and the tone of authority that slipped into her speech almost naturally, ”I’m Francesca.” she introduced herself, ”Who are you?” Her voice was a command. He was to obey it. She didn’t expect anything less.

Without waiting for him to continue though, Francesca began talking herself, ”You’re with the de Guise man, aren’t you? You are French. Who is he? What does he want?” A flood of questions came out before Francesca could help herself. Nevertheless, she expected them answered.
Goto Top
 
William Spencer
Member Avatar
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
The oranges were taken back without a word, and William did not really know how to deal with that. It was not his place to care, but where he came from children did not act like little wild animals. Then she informed him that her father was the cardinal. William blinked, trying to piece that together in his head until it fit: illegitimate AND a bastardization of God's laws for clergy. He definitely did not know what to think about that. Again, far too above him for him to aspire to think about it. The affairs of his elders and betters were just something he listened to. One thing he had learned: powerful men did as they pleased.

Cardinal Giovanni had DEFINITIVELY done as he had pleased.

"Apologies, I did not know," he continued, in Italian. He nodded as she said the oranges were for her father, not seeing anything amiss about it. William was used to dealing with children younger than him. He had been in the household of the Duke of Valois since he has just started walking, and William was a few years his senior.

"Would you like my help?" he asked. To be quite honest, William had no idea how to call the bastard daughter of a cardinal. That was simply not anything that had ever been covered, and his intuition was that it would not be anything very grand. He would simply avoid it for now. She was tiny, what exactly could she do to him?

"I am Francesca," she informed him in that commanding tone. He had heard it in children before, so that hardly surprised him. She was, a bit uncouth, even for a young child. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but she was already asking him a slew of questions. He watched as she backed into the statue.

"I am Guillaume, Count of Pardiac. Monseigneur de Guise is Viceroy of Naples and commander of the french armies here, and my uncle and master," he replied with a small smile, using his french courtesy title, a lesser property of his grandfather's. "I am heir to my french family, but I am half English as well, second grandson of the Earl of Wilmington," he replied, when she asked if he was French. "As to what my uncle 'wants', I do no fully know. I expect he wishes to speak of politics and other things powerful and influential men talk about. Surely nothing of much interest to you...are you supposed to be outside?" He paused, his hands still resting behind his back. "Unattended?" His brow furrowed a bit. "I think we should go inside, I do not wish to be far when Monseigneur de Guise calls for me. I will help you carry your oranges."
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
Queen Francesca de' Medici
Unregistered

Did not know? How could he not know that she, Donna Francesca, was the daughter of His Eminence the Cardinal Giovanni? Who did the boy think he was? Francesca’s young mind struggled to comprehend it. Petulantly, she shook her head, gathering the oranges up in her arms. The tangled mess of her hair fell long past to her knees. Her tiny little slippers had slipped off her feet, now scattered over the ground. Francesca didn’t seem to notice as she studied this boy.

She decided that she liked his face, even though she didn’t know why. He reminded her of some statues. Handsome was not yet prominent in Francesca’s vocabulary, but her artistic sense had been so tuned by her decadent surroundings that she felt it even if she didn’t recognize it. Squinting slightly, Francesca thought that he was rather high class. Certainly his clothes betrayed that of him, but Francesca couldn’t fathom anyone being of higher class than her father, save for the Holy Father himself, and of course the Duke Valentino. But those people Francesca knew. Those people were Francesca’s friends and allies. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

But she was going to take every advantage of it.

”What can you help me with?” She demanded, walking over to the side of a wall and setting the oranges down one by one in a straight orderly fashion. ”These oranges are all ruined! They’re all bruised, and they’re the first harvest of the season! I shall tell papa, and he shall never forgive you.” That was another lie, but Francesca didn’t care. She stood up again and walked towards William, her hands on her hips, looking more like a street urchin than a lady.

As William introduced himself, Francesca slipped easily into the French language, now speaking in a mixture of Italian and French, fluent in both and generally confused about which was which. ”A count! Like Conte Montferrato! You don’t look like a count.” Francesca mused, ”But what is an Earl… Wilmington, what a horrible sounding name! I’m glad that I am not English.” She gave him a mischievous grin, to show that she was joking.

Francesca just opened her mouth to reply to William’s inquiries when a laugh rang out from behind a closed door. She closed her mouth, turned, her mind quickly switching into mischief. ”They’re in there aren’t they?” she pointed rather blatantly to the door. Then, she indicated the oranges, ”They’re for him, but I want to listen.” She turned back, ”Give me a boost, and I shall not reveal your mistreatment of me to your uncle.” It was a command, more than a threat, and Francesca’s large black eyes showed every resolve that she was going to carry it out. ”And then we can give the oranges to both Monseigneur and papa.” Walking to the door without even waiting for his agreement, she stood beside it on tiptoe, holding her ear gently to the crack for a moment before turning back to William. ”Well? I’m waiting.”
Goto Top
 
William Spencer
Member Avatar
Lord Winchester (courtesy)
William had been born in Auvergne, France; consequently, he knew more about grapes and other such fruits than oranges. He was bound to believe about anything this little native Italian told him. So, when she informed him that they were ruined, while this perplexed him as they looked fine, he was apt to believe it. He hardly wanted Cardinal Giovanni to be cross with him. What if it impacted whatever his uncle was talking to the man about? How angry would the Viceroy be? William stood there unmovingly, but swallowed.

"Please do not, that is cruel. It was an accident," he protested mildly.

When she said that he did not look like a count, he frowned a bit. What was a count supposed to look like? He knew many counts who looked like him! Perhaps because he was not Italian?

"I am count because I am heir to my family after Monseigneur, it is a lesser property of my grandfather's. He has very many titles," William said with a congenial smile. "But I do not like Earl either, I am glad I am not to be one. English is a very ugly language I think, and English had very poor manners and are very poor dancers." He confirmed this with a strong nod. Indeed, he had gone there several times, but he was always glad to return to France.

Suddenly a laugh burst out, and William craned his head to look, although he knew he would not see anything. The door was obviously closed, and it was not as if moving his head slightly would be his ear any closer and make it any louder.

”They’re for him, but I want to listen...Give me a boost, and I shall not reveal your mistreatment of me to your uncle.”

The boy raised a dark eyebrow. Give her a boost? As in pick her up? And she wished to listen at the door? William blinked. He did not wish part in this but surely her telling of his unintentional slight with the oranges might ruin things for his uncle! What if the man was very mad and refused the Viceroy? William had no idea what they were talking of, but it could be very important. He did not pay much mind as she spoke of giving the oranges to the men. He was still debating giving her a boost.

As she harped at him, and he stepped forward. "Not a word, you promise. I do not wish to harm things for my uncle."

William picked the small girl up, centering most her weight on his left side because of the tenderness of his right shoulder. Her long hair tickled him, and he blew it from his face, scrunching his nose. After that, everything happened so quickly. One instant he could smell the door and oranges as he held the girl, and the next the door was opening and they were falling in. The shift in weight took him by surprise, and he went stumbling and falling, the girl right on top of him. He let out a momentary yowl as he hit the floor. She landed on him, and he hopefully broke her fall, even though his shoulder was screaming so loudly that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

The sound of de Guise's voice rang in his ears through the screams of pain from his shoulder, "What is the meaning of this!" the bellowing was quickly followed by, "I am very sorry and very embarrassed, Your Eminence." William barely got a knee and an arm up before his uncle hauled him up by his left arm and shook him, giving him a pert slap to the cheek. "You would commit a deception, a disobedience, in the house of a Prince of the Church? You will apologize to His Eminence and answer to any punishment he sees fit," the man said in a steady voice, authoritative yet somehow controlled and retained from anger.

For a moment, the boy looked between the two men with wide blue eyes and then to the girl. His pale face, still trying to hide the pain from his shoulder, turned back to the girl's father. He would have his shoulder be the worst pain he felt that day, but now that was a prayer lost on the wind.

Offline Profile Goto Top
 
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Register for Free
« Previous Topic · In the Past Graveyard · Next Topic »
Locked Topic