Read Online Francesca by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online

my side. Not since my beloved Antonia died. She was many years my junior, you know, and gave me my only child.”
    “You miss her,” Francesca replied putting a comforting hand on his. “I am sorry to have made you sad,
signore
.”
    “No, child, you did not. I can never, it seems, think of Antonia without growing tearful, despite the many years she has been gone,” the old duke admitted.
    They had been watching a small jousting tournament, and now in an effort to distract him from his sad thoughts Francesca said, “Oh, look! Rafaello and Valiant are going to go up against each other.”
    “Valiant will win,” Duke Titus said with a chuckle. “My own son is little interested in jousting. He says there is no practical use for it. Now and again he will overcome Valiant but ’tis only by chance.”
    Francesca felt Louisa grab her hand and squeeze it hard as the two horsemen sat at either end of the jousting course, awaiting a signal from the tourney’s master at arms.
    “Tell me what happens,” she whispered. “I can’t look.”
    Francesca repressed a chuckle, knowing Louisa’s fear was for Valiant, not Rafaello.
    “Ohh,” squealed Aceline. “Are they not magnificent? But of course my Rafaello will win. He is so brave and so very gallant.”
    A horn sounded and the two riders began their gallop down the field, lances lowered. The sound of the horses’ hooves was almost like distant thunder. The tip of Valiant’s lance hit the direct center of Rafaello’s shield. He struggled to stay ahorse, but lost his seat and went down with an audible thump. The crowd burst into laughter, for this was an old story to them and they knew no harm had been done the duke’s heir by his best friend. The fallen warrior gave them a good-natured wave of his armored gauntlet, and it was then they cheered him and Valiant.
    Aceline gasped, shocked, and pushed her way from the duke’s box to run down onto the jousting field, shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Rafaello! Rafaello!” She turned angrily on Valiant, who had dismounted, and was checking on his friend. “Monster! If you have killed him I will kill you! How dare you win? He is your lord’s son, and when we are wed you will be forbidden from the court, I swear it.”
    Valiant ignored her and knelt by Rafaello’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked.
    Rafaello laughed. “If you do not take into consideration my bruised bottom and my equally bruised ego, I’m fine. Help me up.” He had already removed his helmet.
    Valiant and a squire pulled Rafaello to his feet.
    Aceline pushed Valiant away and clung to Rafaello. “You are sooo brave,” she cooed at him. “I am so very proud of you. He took you off guard, else you should never have fallen victim to this coward,” she declared vehemently.
    Rafaello shook her off angrily. “Valiant and I have been jousting ever since we were small boys,” he told her. “He is the better warrior and everyone knows it. How dare you call him a coward, you little shrew?” He pushed her away when she attempted to reattach herself to him again. “And how dare you make a spectacle of yourself here on a field of honor? You shame your family by your behavior.”
    Aceline burst into fulsome tears, but cleverly disguised her outrage at him by saying loudly for many to hear, “Thank God you are safe,
amore mia
!”
    “I am
not
your
amore
,” Rafaello snapped irritably. She was fair to the eye. She was of noble blood, but she was spoiled beyond redemption and had a sharp tongue. She was obviously determined to have him, no matter the cost. He was surprised she hadn’t thrown off her clothing and had her way with him on the jousting field before all the spectators watching. “Valiant,” he said to his friend, “you must crown your queen of love and beauty, having triumphed over me this day.”
    Together the two men turned away from Aceline and walked to Duke Titus’s box. The French girl, now in serious danger of being publicly