Read The Book of Love Page 16


  The villagers came to plead to Duke Godfrey, who was now their feudal lord, to restore their holdings and aid them in rebuilding, while providing them with troops for protection. But most of all they came to see their legendary little countess, for she was Tuscan born and the child of a great prophecy. It was Matilda who represented the gleam of hope for the people of northern Italy. It was Matilda who would restore Tuscany to its former, glorious state of peace and prosperity.

  The people were certain of it, and so was Matilda.

  There exist forms of union higher than any that can be spoken,

  stronger than the greatest forces with the power that is their destiny.

  Those who live this are no longer separated.

  They are one, beyond bodily distinction.

  Those who recognize each other know the unequaled joy

  of living together in this fullness.

  The time returns.

  When the Families of Spirit come together on earth, there is great rejoicing in the house of El and Asherah. Those who recognize each other in this life live in a fullness that is unknowable to those who do not have this blessing.

  The only joy greater than union…is reunion. There is an awakening that must happen here. You must awaken while in this body, for everything exists within it, and only through this awakening will you have eyes to see and ears to hear. Only through this awakening will you recognize and remember those with whom it is your destiny to reunite.

  For those with ears to hear, let them hear it.

  FROM THE BOOK OF LOVE,

  AS PRESERVED IN THE LIBRO ROSSO

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Florence

  1057

  Duke Godfrey chose Florence for their new home as he much preferred it to Mantua, where it was hard to compete with the local people’s memory of Bonifacio. From Florence, he could operate in a more cosmopolitan and politicized environment. Mantua, Modena, and Canossa were more provincial in comparison. He expanded and renovated an aging palace that existed in the center of the city, near the stunning octagonal Baptistery that dominated Florence.

  Matilda settled into life in Florence, heralded by an emotional reunion with her beloved Isobel. Beatrice, who was now working hard to run the Tuscan holdings in her daughter’s name, was far too busy once again to indulge in maternal matters. While their time in Germany had brought mother and daughter closer than they ever had been, Matilda would always need and crave the nurturing that came from Issy.

  Isobel was concerned about the edge that Matilda had developed while in captivity in Germany. She had lost a portion of her innocence and would be slow to trust anyone new who entered her life. And she had become restless and combative in her newfound passion for justice. Isobel and the Master realized that they would have to work hard to emphasize that the desire for justice must not be colored by revenge. For while one was the work of the light, the other was the work of the darkness. As a leader, Matilda must learn to come from the place of love whenever possible. Love conquers all.

  More to the Order’s purposes, Matilda had also not had any real spiritual education for almost two years, critical years in a child’s development. During her captivity, her only religious training had been the harshly orthodox scriptural interpretations that were the daily bread of the German royal family. Working to undo that damage was in itself going to be a challenge. As a result, the inner circle of the Order of the Holy Sepulcher in Lucca had come to the conclusion that emergency measures must be taken. The Master would relocate to Florence, where the Order had a base, a monastery at the edge of the river Arno which had been named for the Holy Trinity, Santa Trinità. A secretive and somewhat mysterious community of monks with ties to the Order had built a monastery there in the tenth century, under the patronage of Siegfried of Lucca, Matilda’s legendary great-great-grandfather. The monks were not only sympathetic to the origins of the Order, some of them were descended from the most powerful bloodline families themselves and were sworn members.

  Here at Santa Trinità, Isobel and the Master would resume Matilda’s training in earnest. They would reclaim their child, their precious Expected One, and bring her back into the fold of the Way of Love. They would ensure that she was given every opportunity to fulfill her destiny. They would teach her that God had given her this trial of imprisonment and injustice for a reason, so that she would know and understand the pain of such treatment. She should use this learning to color her own decisions as a leader, to remember the humanity of each and every one of her vassals, to remember that the Book of Love taught that all human spirits were equal, with no man or woman having more value than another. Some might have destinies that appeared more exalted, but that was in human perspective. In the eyes of God, all souls were equal in value.

  While Matilda’s lessons had been harsh for someone so young, the Master would emphasize that they were clearly a part of God’s plan for Matilda’s destiny. They would shape her into the greatest and most benevolent of leaders.

  Another cause for concern was that Matilda’s experience with the young Henry had tarnished her relationships with other children her age, particularly boys. The future would depend on her diplomatic abilities, usually with men, so this was an issue that had to be addressed. The Master decided to begin instructing Matilda in the presence of other children, starting with an orphaned boy who had been sent up from Calabria for training owing to his exceptionally quick mind and displays of leadership. He was of a similar age, and the Master believed the boy would be a worthy companion to their little countess. His name was Patricio, and at nine he was already proving to be intellectually and spiritually gifted. Patricio was a lovely child, blessed with a sunny disposition and yet also a strong will. He would be able to keep up with Matilda and even to challenge her; they were enough alike to get along but also to push each other. It was a perfect solution that could prove tremendously healing for Matilda.

  Florence

  1059

  “MOTHER, I wish to be trained as a warrior.”

  Beatrice set aside the accounts she had been examining as her daughter, now thirteen and exceptionally beautiful, addressed her from the doorway.

  “Come in and speak to me properly, Matilda. I cannot have you shouting such things from the hall where the entire household can hear our business.” Beatrice smiled at her to indicate that she wasn’t really displeased by her daughter’s typically impetuous behavior. She not only expected it, she found it charming. “Sit down, my dear. Now, what is this fancy of yours and whence does it come?”

  “I have been studying the law of inheritance.” Matilda sat opposite her mother on a bench at a wooden table made of rough-hewn beams. It was a dining table, but Beatrice preferred to work here as there was plenty of room for her to view all of the accounts in one place. She had become, by necessity, a shrewd and effective business manager for both her husband’s and daughter’s interests.

  Beatrice gave Matilda her full attention. She was clearly intent on pursuing this subject, and when Matilda was serious, she would not be denied. By anyone.

  Matilda continued with customary passion. “And while the law says that a woman cannot inherit such properties as we hold, it is specific as to why. It says that a woman cannot perform military service, and that the lords who control property must be capable of military service in defense of those lands. So…I would take up the sword and prove that I can lead an army. If I am capable of military service—and I intend to be as capable as any male warrior or more—then there is nothing I can see in the law to block my inheritance. I am already more skilled on a horse than any man in Tuscany, and Godfrey says that my understanding of strategy is greater than that of many of his advisers. I just need the skills in weaponry to become a complete warrior with the capability of defending my own lands.”

  Beatrice nodded thoughtfully. If Matilda had been born male, there was no doubt that she would already have been well on her way to being the most accomplished military hero of her time. A geniu
s at strategy, she had delighted her stepfather Godfrey with her skill in chess and in the military games that he devised for her on paper. He even allowed her to sit in on his meetings when the regional Tuscan chiefs came to Florence to give their reports. While the duke of Lorraine was generally considered to be a hard man, he had learned to love both of these extraordinary women in his life and treated them like the family they had become. With Beatrice, he had discovered a solid and worthy partner in the complex ruling of an extensive kingdom. While their marriage was necessarily unconsummated, they had established a fondness for each other that was based first on respect but later on warmth and emotion. In several legal documents pertaining to her life, Beatrice referred to Godfrey fondly as “my man.”

  The duke had developed a special weakness for Matilda’s strength and intelligence and had come to treat her like his own child, and with no small degree of respect. Beatrice considered this now and replied, “Your stepfather is indulgent of you, but he may not allow this. Lorraine is a far more conservative place than Tuscany. He must think of his reputation in both locations.”

  “He will allow this. He must. And with both of us insisting on it, he will have little choice but to give in. We are the two most convincing women in Europe, doesn’t he say so himself?”

  “I do dare say. You have thought this through, I see, and no surprise. Tell me, does Isobel know that you intend to train as a warrior?”

  Matilda nodded. She had discussed her strategy with both Issy and the Master. “They do not object to anything that could ensure my inheritance and protect our ways. My strength is their strength. They know that I will use it to preserve the traditions along with my rights. And they feel that God will grant me special protection in battle.”

  Beatrice nodded. Nothing from this child of the two greatest families in Europe would ever surprise her again. While she was not herself a follower of the prophecies revered in Lucca, she was more certain each day that her daughter had been born for a special destiny. Perhaps she was indeed the child of the prophecies of which the Tuscan people had whispered since her propitious birth. She was certainly unique in her strength, beauty, and flourishing wisdom. Beatrice was proud of her and was certain that Godfrey would be impressed by Matilda’s astute grasp of the law. No doubt he had given her the legal documents to review himself and wouldn’t be terribly surprised at her savvy interpretation.

  “So be it. I will raise a warrior daughter if that is what you wish. And I will speak to Godfrey tonight when he returns. He will need to find you an appropriate weapons master, and sparring partners who—”

  Matilda cut her off. “Who will what? Go easy on me? I think not, Mother. What good to train in weapons if it is only against weak boys who have been told to be gentle with me? I want the best men in Tuscany, and the most hardened. Nothing less.”

  “Of course you do.” Her mother was justifiably nervous that Matilda’s bravado might get her into trouble. But she was equally certain that the girl would have her way in this, as she did in everything. “And that is what you shall have, if Godfrey consents to it.”

  “Thank you.” Matilda rose, curtsying gracefully and with respect. “And Mother, it is for you that I do this as well. Never again will anyone take anything that belongs to us. And never again will a German king ravage Tuscany, steal our resources, and terrorize our people. Never.”

  Beatrice looked at the strikingly beautiful girl who stood before her. The set of her daughter’s jaw—pure Tuscan warrior—put her so much in mind of Bonifacio that it brought tears to her eyes.

  “He would be proud of you, Matilda.”

  Matilda’s own eyes welled up immediately. Not a day went by when she did not miss her father. Indeed, she spoke to him every night when she said her prayers. “He sees me, Mother. I know he does. And I will make him proud.”

  It would be a mistake for any man in Europe to assume that this petite and fine-boned female could not and would not defend what was rightfully hers. Godfrey of Lorraine would not make that mistake. He agreed to Matilda’s request with surprising readiness, and personally oversaw the selection of her primary military instructor. He knew just the right man.

  The knife hit the target squarely in the center, and with such force that it shook the tree. The fearsome warlord who had hurled the weapon turned to face Godfrey of Lorraine with the full force of his wrath.

  “Do I look like a whimpering nursemaid to you?”

  At the moment, Conn of the Hundred Battles could not have looked any less like a nursemaid, whimpering or otherwise. He stalked toward the target to withdraw his knife, moving with an uncommon grace for such a gigantic man. It was the hottest time of the day and his broad chest was bare and dripping sweat. His long hair, an extraordinary ginger color that matched his beard, was tied back with a leather thong, giving Conn the look of a Celtic god from ancient legend. This giant did, in fact, hail from the magical and misty lands of the Celts and had come to Florence several years prior, for reasons he chose not to reveal, in search of a mercenary command.

  “Not a bit, Conn,” Godfrey replied with no small degree of amusement. Here was a man whom he counted as one of his most loyal warriors and a trusted friend. During their first interview, Conn had been guarded about his personal history. But Godfrey was an astute judge of a warrior’s character, and he could see that there was intelligence and something else behind the pure brute force that confronted him. Over the three years that they had been allied, the duke had discovered extraordinary layers in the man who fought beside him with such strength and loyalty. He also knew that on the surface, Conn was too proud, arrogant, and harsh to consent immediately to instructing Matilda, and certainly not within earshot of his men, as he was now. This would be a bit of a struggle, but one Godfrey was certain to win. Because he knew something else about Conn. The Celtic giant had a soft spot for the girl and often commented on her extraordinary skills as an equestrian and how mythical she looked perched upon a horse and riding like the wind.

  There was nothing soft about the glare that Conn turned in Godfrey’s direction as he wrenched his weapon from the target. He lowered his voice as he addressed the duke.

  “You will make me a laughingstock with the other men. I won’t do it.”

  “You can handle the other men, methinks.” But then Godfrey nodded, looking more serious. “I understand your concerns, Conn. But I need you. You are the best warrior and strategist in Tuscany. This is not a fancy for Matilda. She is deadly serious about her training. It is of the utmost importance that she be as prepared as possible in terms of real war. I cannot lose her on the battlefield because she is ill-equipped to survive. It would destroy her mother, it would imperil the future of Tuscany…and it would kill me as well.”

  Conn grunted, shoving the knife into his belt as he did so. Godfrey placed a friendly hand on the warrior’s shoulder.

  “Incidentally, this is a high-paid commission. And if that is not enough to sway you, think of it this way.” Godfrey was fully prepared to use all his wits to garner Conn’s acquiescence, in this case playing to the love of his Celtic heritage. “When Matilda is the most legendary warrior queen who ever lived, you will be remembered as the great man who trained her.”

  He had him. The promise of both wealth and legendary honor was too much for a man of such heritage. Godfrey could see in the big Celt’s eyes that he was actually relishing the idea. He closed the deal.

  “Besides, it takes one wild, red-haired creature to understand another. And when Matilda is older, the two of you will look like a ferocious brother and sister as you ride out to do battle together. Your enemies will cower at the very sight of you and the chroniclers will write about your adventures in perpetuity.”

  With a final grunt, Conn continued his show of disdain and pushed past the duke, determined not to reveal to anyone that he was secretly delighted by this task. He shouted his parting line for the benefit of the other men who may have been eavesdropping.

  “Fine, but y
our version of high-paid and mine had best be the same.”

  “Come in, little Boudicca.”

  While Conn sat on a stool with his back to the door, he had the acute hearing and highly tuned senses of the most experienced warlord. Knowing who came up behind him was a skill that determined life over death on the battlefield.

  Matilda swallowed as she stepped into the soldier’s chamber, a weapons room that adjoined the stables. Swords and pikes hung from the walls, while axes and smaller knives were displayed on a rough table. She glanced at them as she approached the man who would be her new weapons master. While she was secretly thrilled that Godfrey had taken her seriously enough to entrust her training to his most hardened warlord, this huge man’s reputation for fearlessness in battle was daunting. Matilda was not sure what to expect from him, but she was determined not to be intimidated.

  Conn gestured to the table where he sat, staring at a chessboard. He still had not looked up at her. “What move would you make here, if you were I? This one?” He indicated the black knight. “Or that one?” Pointing to the black bishop.

  Matilda contemplated the board for a moment before responding. “Neither.”

  Conn looked up now for the first time, coming face-to-face with the teenage girl who would be his protégée, and caught his breath. He had seen her from a distance when she rode with Godfrey, but up this close he was completely taken aback. Even in her rough training garments, she was as utterly gorgeous as if she were gowned in silks and jewels. Perhaps that would be to her benefit in battle, as men would be disarmed by her appearance. He would need to find as many angles as possible to give her advantages in war, as her petite stature was going to be problematic.