The Kadin (2 page)

2

S
AN
L
ORENZO
basked beneath the warm September sun. Its emerald-green hillsides, tumbling gently to the sea, flashed occasional spots of red, yellow, and orange flowers. To the south, the vineyards burst with plump purple and gold wine grapes; and in the valley beyond the coastal hills, the ripening grain eagerly awaited the harvest

Perched precariously above the Mediterranean in wild and colorful disorder was its capital. The cobbled streets of the town ran up and down past houses of every hue, not one the same. Hence its name, Arcobaleno, meaning “rainbow” in Italian.

Overlooking the town sat the palace of Sebastian, duke of San Lorenzo. Slightly below it facing on the sea, was the pink marble villa where his excellency, Patrick Leslie, earl of Glenkirk, ambassador of His Most Catholic Majesty, James of Scotland, had resided for two years.

Lady Janet Mary Leslie sat cross-legged upon her bed, brushing her long, red-gold hair. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously at her eight-year-old brother, Adam, who impatiently paced the room.

“For heaven’s sakes, Jan, can’t you hurry? You’ve kept Rudi waiting almost an hour now!”

She laughed. “You may go on if you wish, Adam, but I’ll bet Rudi won’t go without me.”

“You are a vixen, Janet Leslie, just as father says,” retorted the boy.

“And you, Master Saucebox, are allowed to ride with us only because ‘tis more seemly now that I am of marriageable age!”

“Hah,” snapped Adam. “Marriageable age, indeed! Father will not allow your bethrothal to Rudi until you are at least fourteen!”

“He never said that to me.”

“One does not discuss these things with a mere female,” said Adam loftily.

“You were eavesdropping! Oh Adam, tell me what father said! I’ll give you one of Fiona’s puppies when they’re born.”

“Pick of the litter?”

Janet debated. She wanted to give Rudi the best pup, but her curiosity was too great, so she nodded her consent

Adam climbed upon the bed next to his sister and said in a conspiratorial voice, “I wasn’t really eavesdropping, Jan. Father forgot I was waiting for him. I overheard him talking to Duke Sebastian last night He said he felt even fourteen was too young, but he’d permit it provided the marriage isn’t celebrated until you are sixteen or seventeen.”

“You’re a liar, Adam Leslie!”

“I am not! Ask him yourself!”

Janet jumped off the bed and, giving a shake of her hips to settle her long skirt ran from the room She was a tall girl for her age, and the recent onset of puberty had matured her slender body. Her mind raced as she traveled the corridor to her father’s suite. She had hoped next Christmas would bring the announcement of her bethrothal to Rudolfo, heir to the duchy of San Lorenzo, with their marriage to follow within the year. Pushing past a startled servant she burst into her father’s rooms.

Patrick Leslie had been lying upon his bed fondling a well-endowed, golden-skinned brunette. He leaped up, smothering an oath. “You have been told not to enter my chambers without knocking, Janet!”

“You would not have heard me, my lord father.” She mocked a curtsy. “I want to speak with you on a matter of great importance.”

Patrick turned to the girl on the bed. “Get out!” The girl rose slowly, her mouth sulky. “But don’t go far,” he added. Her mouth turned up in a smile, the girl slipped out

“And now, my lady, what is so important that you burst into my rooms unannounced?”

“Adam said he overheard you tell Duke Sebastian you would not permit my bethrothal until I was at least fourteen, and then no marriage until I’m sixteen.”

“Your brother has large ears and talks too much,” answered Patrick.

Then it’s truer?”

“Aye, Jan.”

“Why, father? Why must you do this to me? Fourteen Is not too young to be wed.”

“I will not have you die at fifteen in childbirth, like your mother, or Adam’s!”

“God’s foot!” she swore. “I’m nothing like Meg in either face or form, and as for Agnes, she was frail. Leslie women have always been good breeders, and I’m Leslie-born.” The last was said proudly.

Patrick winced. He adored his daughter and always had. Why did time go so quickly? Yesterday she was but a wee lass climbing into his lap to wheedle a story out of him. Now she stood before him, no longer a child, but—dammit!—she was not yet a woman, either.

Janet continued. “Look, father.” She pulled her skirt tight across her flat belly, revealing a wide span between hip bones. “Grandmother says I’m meant to bear children. So do Brother Dundas and Padre Gian.”

“Goddamn your grandmother and those prattling priests to Hell!” he shouted explosively. “I’ll not see you wed at fourteen! What do you know of marriage, and for God’s sake, don’t quote the catechism to me! You think it will be all fetes and hunting parties. Well let me tell you, my fine lady, it won’t be! You’ll be expected to produce an heir posthaste, and then protect the precious succession with a gaggle of brothers and sisters. At the first sign you are with child, you’ll be cloistered like a nun. As for Rudi, you’ll scarce see him, except for the bed!”

“That’s not so!” Janet stamped her foot at him. “Rudi is every bit the gentle knight”

“Aye, in the courting. But once the marriage is consummated and you are big with child, he’ll be off with some appealing creature like the one who waits for me now.”

“I’ll have him get me with child,” she retorted defiantly. “Then you’ll have to let us wed!”

Patrick Leslie grabbed his willful daughter by her arms and stared down into her face. His fingers pressed cruelly into her soft flesh. His voice was dangerously low. “I’ll not be defied, mistress. If you should dare to try to force my hand, I’ll ship you back to Scotland to a convent; and, bairn or no, you’ll remain there until you rot! Do you really think Rudi would wait? He’d marry some Medici or some princess from Toulouse.” Releasing her, he took the heart-shaped face in his strong hand and looked down at his stubborn daughter. “Och, Jan. I’ve had you such a short time. Would you leave me so soon?”

“But, father, I am a woman.”

“By scarce two months,” he observed wryly.

“Oh, you are impossible,” she shouted.

Patrick burst into laughter. “All right, you witch. I’ll compromise with you, but only providing my physician says you are strong and fit If he agrees, the betrothal will be announced next Christmas as Duke Sebastian desires.”

Janet’s face lit up.

“But” he continued, “the wedding will not take place until your fifteenth birthday.”

Janet picked up her skirts and danced about the room. Thank you, father! Thank you! I must go tell Grandmother Mary and Adam.” Whirling by him, she planted a kiss on his cheek and danced out of the room “You may go in now,” she told the waiting brunette.

3

J
ANET
L
ESLIE’S BETROTHAL DAY
dawned clear, bright and warm. It was December 6, the feast of Saint Nicholas. Lying quietly in her bed, Janet allowed herself the luxury of a few moments’ peace before the day to come. She was very excited and, at the same time, frightened at the finality of the step she was taking.

At noon her father would lead her into the cathedral in Arcobaleno where she and Rudi would be formally betrothed by the bishop. On her fifteenth birthday, which was just two years and six days away, she would be wed. She shivered in happy anticipation.

Entering the room, Flora, her maid, called softly, “Mistress, it is time you were up. Your bath is waiting.”

She helped the girl arise and removed her nightgown. Walking across the cool tile floor, Janet stepped into her bath. It was scented with roses. Flora, a stern older woman who had been with Janet since she was four, scrubbed the girl vigorously, then, commanding her to stand, poured clean water over Janet to rinse her creamy skin. Toweling her dry, she sat her young mistress down and pared both her finger-and toenails.

Mary MacKay entered the room, followed by two servant girls who carried Janet’s betrothal gown. It was her first adult dress, and she eagerly stepped into it Mary looked fondly at her granddaughter. There is nothing at all of my Meg in her, she thought Janet is pure Leslie.

Gazing at her image in the mirror, young Lady Janet Leslie knew she was beautiful. Her gown was of heavy white silk with a deep-cut square neckline and long, flowing sleeves. Beneath it she wore a low-cut bodice and a petticoat of silk. An inverted V, embroidered with gold flowers, divided the skirt into two panels. Between the panels the pristine silk glistened. At the point of the V she pinned a broach fashioned of gold, diamonds, and topazes—her betrothal gift from Rudi.

Flora set a cape of topaz-colored velvet about her shoulders. Her grandmother gave her hair, which was unbound to show she was a maiden, a final brush, and placed a small cap of gold mesh upon her head. She was ready.

Patrick Leslie, equally resplendent in a suit of dark-green velvet, felt a pang of remorse at the sight of his daughter. Damn James Stuart, he thought. If it weren’t for him, this betrothal would not have happened. But in his heart the earl knew that whether it be Rudolfo di San Lorenzo or some other lad, he would have lost his daughter someday. He consoled himself with the fact that the wedding would not take place for almost two years.

“You are most bonnie, little sweetheart,” he said.

Janet smiled at him and, placing her hand in his, accompanied him to the waiting horses.

The day had become unbearably hot for December. Even within the cathedral, with its thick stone walls, the moist, sticky heat prevailed. The old bishop droned on longer than usual, and Janet silently sent up a prayer of thanks that she had forbidden a Mass on this occasion. The High Mass should be reserved for the wedding, not a simple betrothal ceremony, she had told them.

Then, mercifully, it was over, and she and Rudi signed the official documents which contracted them to marriage. As they left the cathedral, they stopped and stood a moment on the top steps of the church. The slender, red-haired girl, and the tall, handsome, curly-headed boy heard the joyous cries of the San Lorenzans. They were both so young, so beautiful, and so touchingly innocent that the people below, taking them to their hearts, cheered louder.

Rudi’s tanned face flashed a smile. “I have a present for you,” he said.

“A present? But I thought the broach was my betrothal gift”

“It is. By tradition. This is something that I have personally picked for you.”

She smiled back at him. “What is it?”

“A surprise,” he answered, leading her down the steps and setting her upon her horse. “You’ll see it when we get back to the palace, but I assure you you’ve never had anything like it before. You will be the envy of every woman in San Lorenzo.”

They rode back up the hill to the palace to accept the congratulations of the entire ducal family, the clergy, and the other nobility of the region. Afterward, alone with their immediate family, Rudi slipped his arm about her tiny waist

“Did I tell you I love you today, cara mia?”

“Just today?”

“Every day, my sweet” and he kissed the tip of her ear.

She blushed, and he laughed. “Being my fiancée officially has made you more demure. It is most charming.”

“Rudolfo,” boomed the duke,
“I
think this would be a good time to present Gianetta with her gifts.” He clapped his hands, and a troupe of servants entered bearing trays of packages and bouquets. Much to everyone’s amusement Janet cried out in delight

“Now you see why I am hesitant about letting her wed so young,” chuckled Patrick to Duke Sebastian.

“Marriage will mature her,” replied the duke.

The white-leather case Janet first reached for contained the San Lorenzo pearls—the traditional gift of the reigning duke to his future daughter-in-law. The duchess presented her with a red morocco toilette case containing two combs, a brush, and a mirror of gold; a gold box holding tortoise-shell hairpins; three Venetian crystal scent bottles, one filled with rosewater, one with lavender, and the third with rare Eastern musk; and a pale blue velvet bag containing pure white wax candles and a crystal-and-gold candlestick.

Young Adam had brought his sister a gold ring fashioned with the Leslie coat of arms and engraved inside with the words, “To my own dear sister, Janet from Adam.” She rose, walked over to him, and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are the sweetest brother any girl could have.”

Adam flushed and wriggled in embarrassment.

Janet turned back to her gifts. On the last tray was a beautifully carved leather saddle.

“Oh, Rudi,” she exclaimed, “it’s wonderful!”

“But it is not from me, cara. It is from your father.”

“But you said you had another gift for me, and there are no others left”

“Greedy wench,” said Patrick.

“Oh, father,” she giggled. “I’m sorry. The saddle is a marvelous gift”

“It goes with something else, little sweetheart. Come out on the terrace and see what your grandmother has for you.”

The entire family adjourned to the terrace. There, standing quietly, was a beautiful white mare, and holding her bridle was a young black man wearing bright red satin pantaloons, a yellow turban with a white plume, and a gold earring in his left ear. His bare chest had been oiled, and it glistened in the bright sun.

“The mare’s name is Heather,” said Patrick.

“And this,” said Rudi, placing a hand on the black man’s shoulder, “is Mamud. He is a tamed and Christianized African, and my special gift to you. I purchased him from a trading ship that put in here last week. He is gelded, and therefore a eunuch.”

Though Janet was delighted with Mamud, Mary Mac-Kay was not She was quite horrified. “Black as a crow, and he’ll bring bad luck, too,” she said. “What could Master Rudi have been thinking to give ye such a gift?”

Mamud regarded the Scotswoman warily out of liquid brown eyes and immediately summed her up as the enemy.

“Don’t be silly, grandmother. Blackamoors are becoming quite the fashion.”

“If he were a child, it would be one thing,” persisted the older woman, “but he is not Gelded or nae, I dinna like the looks of him.”

That evening, Janet stood on her balcony overlooking the sea. The day had been a long one, and she was relieved that it was over. A jagged streak of lightning cut across the sky, followed by a nimble of thunder that echoed into the hills. Soon the rain would begin, bringing an end to this awful heat

Janet moved from the balcony and lay down on her bed. Closing her eyes, she let her body relax and her mind wander. Something had happened to her this evening that seemed to indicate that Rudi was as eager as she to be wed.

They had been sitting in the duke’s garden. Rudi, who up to this point had given her no more than an occasional kiss on the cheek, had slipped his arm around her and kissed her on the mouth. At first she had been startled, but as Rudi whispered soft endearments in her ear, she had allowed herself to be kissed again. Her innocently ardent response had encouraged his hands to begin a gentle fondling of her breasts. Janet had heard herself murmuring in soft contentment as her body grew warm and strangely weak. But the sudden loud sounds of her brother and Rudi’s younger brothers playing a boisterous game nearby had roused her, and she had pulled away, suddenly frightened.

Rudi had smiled slowly at her. “It is a long time until our wedding day, Gianetta.”

“I know,” she had sighed, “but father is firm.”

Reliving that moment in the privacy of her bedchamber, Janet began to wonder if her father weren’t right She loved Rudi terribly, but he had awakened feelings in her she wasn’t sure she was equipped to handle at this moment Perhaps she
was
too young.

Maybe, she thought, I shall ask father to move the wedding date, and maybe not I have plenty of time to decide.

The rain came in a rush and began to beat fiercely on the red-tile roof of the villa. Flopping over on her stomach, Janet allowed the sound of the rain to lull her, and promptly fell asleep.