Read Online Leonardo's Swans by Karen Essex - Free Book Online Page A

and standards bearing his symbols, the head of a Moor and the mulberry tree, blooming in a remarkable shade of violet. As the horsemen turned the standards to the crowd, the shouts of approval for Il Moro amplified. What a great prince she was to marry, Beatrice thought. He looked at her so pleasantly as they rode side by side through this city of his ancestors, the great Viscontis, as if nothing could please him more than having her at his side; as if, had he known how lovely she was, he would have not postponed their rendezvous.
    A convoy of knights wearing Ludovico’s colors of scarlet and blue awaited the procession at the end of the street, in front of the old Certosa. One in particular, whose curls pranced as he trotted toward them, rode ahead of the others on his white steed. He was younger than Ludovico and, if possible, much more handsome. A great white smile cut across his olive skin. He radiated light, or so it seemed. If the rest of the city was in midwinter, he alone looked as if he was living in an eternal summer.
    He descended from his horse, bowing to Beatrice. “Galeazz di Sanseverino, madam. At your service and your command. From this day until the end of my life, no favor, no courtesy, no feat is too great for you to ask of me. There is nothing I will not do for you.”
    He looked up at Beatrice, his golden eyes dancing. Galeazz di Sanseverino: son of a great knight; one of twelve brothers renowned for their mastery of the arts of war. But this one was the most famous of all, the finest jouster and equestrian in all of Italy. He was undefeated, or that was his reputation. She did not know how to respond, but respond she must. And yet nothing came from her mouth.
    “Your reputation precedes you, sir,” Isabella said, walking her horse to the front of the procession and diverting the knight from Beatrice.
    As Galeazz switched his attention to her sister, Beatrice felt all the air go out of her body. Yet it relieved her of the burden of speaking to him.
    “As does yours, Marchesa,” he answered. “Though for once, the wagging tongues have been too modest in describing your beauty.”
    “I wonder if that is true of yourself,” Isabella said, her voice suddenly sweet with honey and seduction. “Are you the master of the lance, as they say? Like the knights of old in the days of Charlemagne, knocking all contenders to their deaths, thrilling the ladies with their jousts?”
    Galeazz stood up straight. He was tall and cut a fine figure, broad at the shoulder, narrow at the waist, strong at the calf. “Madame, in those days jousts were held with rude bats and stubs. I will soon enough show you contest with a lance, the length and breadth of which you shall never forget.”
    His impertinent eyes made his meaning clear, and Beatrice expected a haughty retort from her sister. Instead, Isabella returned his suggestive tone.
    “I am looking forward to that unforgettable moment,” she laughed. “They say you are unrivaled.”
    “I am unrivaled at many things,” he added.
    Beatrice could not believe that her sister, a married woman, was inviting these implications from a courtier she had just met. She wondered if she had misunderstood the reference, or if this was simply the way that married women joked with men. Maybe the marriage bed changed a woman. But so quickly? She had never heard her mother utter such words, but then perhaps one hid these tendencies in front of one’s children. She must learn quickly these subtleties of womanhood before she gave Ludovico, or this marvelous Galeazz who has offered her his service, a reason to think her childish. She must watch her sister for clues, and think on her as a mentor, not a competitor. That was the old model. Now she could observe Isabella quietly and steal her tricks.
    “Captain general of my army. And my son-in-law,” Ludovico said proudly and dryly, presenting the cavalier. Galeazz was betrothed to Ludovico’s daughter, Bianca Giovanna, by one of his