'Volo,' he said.
I do. His voice sounded clearly in the chapel.
She stood in front of the altar, in front of a man she didn't know. He looked back at her with dark eyes with long lashes.
'Will you take this man as your husband?'
She felt her uncle's eyes pierce in her back. He had organised this, this to secure one of the most powerful bonds ever made. She was by one of the mightiest families of Italy. Mighty, but with many foes. During their generations of success, they had made enemies. Jealous nobles, Italian families. Now these enemies were uniting, rallying against them, building an army. Their old rivals were on their borders on one side. On the other, the French, having just invaded Italy, and captured the stronghold of Milan.
Is this precarious time, they had taken a risk. Their family had to secure their power. And it was going to be through her.
After weeks of negotiating, it had been settled. A bargain had been struck. And the price? The price was her. She was to wed the French prince. And that would bring peace to Florence, her uncle thought. Marrying her to the foreigner invading their country.
She hadn't ever thought it would be like this, but she had known all her adult life she had to be married. Ever since her father died, she, as his only living child, had become the highest member of their mighty family after her uncle, and the richest woman in the peninsula. And her uncle had made it well clear that she served one single purpose: To be given away when the time was ripe, to secure a marriage that would further his position.
All her male friends from the city had been mercilessly rejected by her uncle, suitors turned away, even if they were from the highest nobility in the city. But then the moment came. France invaded Italy, and halted at Milan. They had to choose. And her uncle hadn't taken long to side with the enemy, given the instability at home.
'It is done,' he said, when he returned from Milan. 'You'll marry the French prince and King Henry and Florence will be allies. The wedding will take place on Wednesday'.
And here she was, standing in front of her husband to be. He had come alone, with a small retinue. His father had stayed in Milan. They were in the private chapel of their family, as a public marriage was sure to cause to be disturbed, given the position of the other nobles in the city on this marriage.
'Ciara Cadici,' she heard the priest repeat.
'Do you take this man as your husband?'
She looked down at her hands, demurely. Philippe held both her hands in hers.
'Volo,' she said, looking up, meeting his gaze.
****
The banquet was formal, but short. Next to her husband, she sat at the head of the table. A bit awkward. They had literally met a few hours ago.
When the clock hit 12, her uncle raised from the table and held a speech. 'Thank you for your presence and kind gifts, my friends.' he said. 'This union is blessed and will bring great prosperity to France and Florence. But the ritual of marriage is not finished yet!' Subdued sniggering rose from the table.
'It is time to go to bed!' her uncle said, raising his glass. 'My niece will make herself ready, and my nephew will follow soon after.'
All the guests got up, sliding their chairs back, lifting their glass. Ciara and Philippe got up as well. Her uncle walked to Ciara and took her hand. With a kind gesture of his head, he begged her to follow him, leading her out of the room.
They stepped in the patio. He handed her over to her maids, who were waiting for her to take her upstairs. 'Now go do your duty,' he said, harshly, his voice hard and cold.
****
She sat on the bed, looking down, waiting for her husband to come in. Her ladies had helped her undress. She wore nothing but her night shift, and a heavy embroidered dressing gown.
He came in. She heard him close the doors, silently.
He walked to her and stood still, shadowing over her. She hardly dared to look at him. Then, to her surprise, she sat next to her on the bed, taking her hand.
'I know you didn't want this marriage,' he said, softly, voice warm like molten honey.
She looked up at him and again met these deep, brown eyes. She didn't know what to say. He wasn't wrong.
'I had no choice,' she said, looking bravely into his eyes. He was dressed in his breeches and his shirt, opened at the neck. 'But I will do my best to be a good wife.'
He let out a small laugh, a chuckle. Almost as if that didn't seem to matter to him. Then he laid his hand on her cheek, stroking her soft skin with his thumb.
'At least you will be a beautiful one,' he said, with a hint of tease in his voice, but with a serious undertone.
She averted her eyes, blushing. He looked at her, her dark curling raven hair flowing around her shoulders, long lashes turned downward. High cheekbones, fine nose and soft lips glowing in the candle light. Apart from being blessed with great riches, Ciara Cadici had been blessed with great beauty. Her reputation had gone beyond Florence.
'You know...' he said, scooting a little away from her. 'It doesn't have to be tonight.' They both knew what he was talking about. 'We can do it whenever you want to,' he said softly.
She looked at him, confused. Could he read her mind? In truth, she had been scared, scared to be held in the hands of this man. And scared all her life of what she had heard was a painful part of womanly obligation. Scared of how her body to satisfy this man's lust. This man that she hardly knew.
She could hardly believe that her husband would take her thoughts into consideration on this matter. In fact, she didn't. She thought it was a trick.
'I want to do my duty,' she said, again averting her eyes downward. She lifted her hands and took the ribbons tying the low neck of her night shift. Trembling, she tried to undo them, getting ready to undress.
All of a sudden, he took her hand, closing his hand around hers, stopping her. His hand brushed the top of her breasts and rested on her skin as he held her. 'No,' he said softly. He squeezed her hand. 'I wont take you against your will.'
Frozen, she sat there, not knowing what to believe. She breathed in deeply, letting out a slow sigh of relief. Was he serious? Did he really care how she felt about this? Was he really doing this, for her?
'Come here,' he said, getting up. He pulled back the covers. 'We can just sleep tonight. First learn how it is to lay beside a man, before you learn to lay with one.'
Uncertain, she stood up. Before carefully stepping into the bed, she quickly let the dressing gown fall off her shoulders. Prudently, she went to lie on her side, with her back to him. Listening, she hard him blow out the candle and felt him step in the bed, behind her. He lay next to her, not touching. Nervous, she stayed awake, but he didn't make a move towards her. After a while, she heard the deep, long, calm breathing of sleep arise from his chest. Finally, she fell into a deep sleep.
