Read Daughters of the Doge Online

Authors: Edward Charles

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

Daughters of the Doge (8 page)

 

January the 9th 1556 – Bolzano, Alto Adige

 

Dear Father and Mother,

So much has happened since I last had an opportunity to write.

We have travelled right across Germany, led by a new guide, a German called Eckhardt Danner, who joined us at Cologne. The weather has been kind to us and the German people, generally, have been helpful and friendly.

We spent Christmas at Tübingen, a beautiful old city with a very ancient and prestigious university. There Professor Fuchs, who is a famous physician and expert on plant medicines, entertained us.

From there we passed to Augsburg, a great city, perhaps larger than London, and certainly much wealthier. It is the home of the Fugger family, wealthy merchants, who finance trade all over the world, but especially between Venice and northern Europe. We left Augsburg on January the 2nd and began to climb into the mountains as part of a larger travelling party. We accepted our Fugger guide’s recommendation that our carts should be modified to allow them to be towed by oxen. His Grace was concerned that oxen would slow us down, but their ability to maintain a steady speed in the face of steep hills is remarkable, and by the time we reached Garmisch Partenkirchen, we were pleased to have made the change.

Most of the merchandise using the route comes north, and so there are many carts returning south half-empty We have therefore been able to ride these carts, and all of our horses have been able to walk unburdened and unsaddled, at oxen pace, which has eased the challenge of the mountains for us and for them.

When we joined the Fuggers, there were over thirty strangers travelling in the party. Slowly, we have begun to speak, and with little to do but ride the carts, we have become a sort of family, with each of us falling into a role within the group. Amongst our travelling companions are a prioress, two nuns, a friar and a number of other priests, most of whom are travelling on to Rome.

Thomas has been accepted as the physician, giving advice and caring for the ailments of our party, although to date there have been few. His Grace, however, does not join us in the carts, but has a tendency to ride on ahead as we approach our final destination for the day, taking charge of the sleeping and eating arrangements. I do not believe he trusts anyone else to look after his interests, and he always seems to have the best room when we settle for the night. Some of the English members of the party have christened him ‘The Knight’, for he is fond of wearing some of his armour outside his clothing when on the road. I think he believes it sets him apart from the rest of us. He certainly manages to look a picture of chivalry and has been catching the eye of a married lady from Baden-Baden, who is travelling south to join her husband in Verona.

Many of the travellers are merchants who seem to travel vast distances across Europe and into the Byzantine Empire. They appear tough and self-sufficient but are extremely interesting once they start to talk. We also have some sailors: one shipman tells me he has crossed the Atlantic Ocean and visited a place called Caracas. He says the Fuggers financed the original voyage that discovered it and now they own it. It is hard to understand people owning countries but, having seen the wealth in Augsburg, I am willing to believe anything.

By January the 4th I assumed we had crossed the high mountains, for we began to descend again into a beautiful valley called Seefeld. From there we followed a precipitous path into an even larger valley and proceeded to the city of Innsbrück. As we approached, any thoughts that we had already passed the highest mountains were dashed by the snow-topped peaks that came into view. For the next two and a half days, we paid the price of climbing downward by having to ascend again; this time much higher. Amazingly, the road is magnificent. I have no idea how these mountain people make roads so wide and comfortable, but having done so, they reap their reward, for we have to pay handsomely for every ox, cart, guide and resting-place along the way.

Finally on the afternoon of January the 7th, we reached the highest point, known as the Passo di Brenna. It was as if the earth had fallen away from us. But the guides would not let us rest and drove the party forward with renewed energy. We entered the valley of the Adige River and followed it down, and down, and down again, through Chiusa, eventually arriving here in Bolzano.

Even now, we have not fully reached the plain below, but the country is beginning to flatten out and finally we can safely say the mountains are behind us. The last week has been a most miraculous experience and I was so pleased, when we rested last night, to meet a merchant, a manciple, who is travelling in the other direction – all the way to London – having completed his purchases in Venice. He has kindly agreed to take this letter that far, and I hope it will finally reach you. By that time, we will have reached our destination. It is feeling warmer already.

There is one amusing incident I must tell you of before I give this message to our carrier. Last night I wandered the market here, buying bread and enjoying stretching my legs. I decided to practise my Italian, and the baker asked me if I was from Venice. He said I had a Venetian accent! I thought long and hard about this and remembered that Lady Jane had regularly practised her Italian at Court with the Venetian Ambassador. Strange, but I suppose it would have been stranger still had the baker in Bolzano recognized a Devon accent!

The carrier is waiting, so I must end. Do not worry about me. All is well, and also with Thomas. Please pass this message to his family, in case his letter (which travels also with the manciple) does not succeed as well as this one. I will write again on arrival.

Your loving son,

Richard

 
P
ART
2
Arrival
 

C
HAPTER
12

 

January the 14th 1556 – Albergo Il Bo, Padua, Republic of Venice

 

‘Padova, La Bellissima!’

I looked across at Thomas and was surprised to see he had tears in his eyes. It might have been relief, I thought, for it was over fifty days since we had left Louvain, and apart from our four days’ rest over Christmas we had been travelling fairly continuously for over seven weeks. But it soon became clear he was overcome by the sheer pleasure of returning to this beautiful city where, as he had told me many times, he had spent four very happy years as a young medical student.

‘It is such a pleasure to see you again.’ Thomas was leaning on the pommel of his saddle and staring, lost in thought, across the frosty plain, quietly talking to the city walls as if they were old friends.

It could not have been a more perfect setting for his return, for the weather was clear but almost windless. With the sun setting behind our right shoulders, we could almost feel the warmth radiating from the city walls, their deep orange glow tinged with purple as the sun dropped behind the hazy blue Euganean Hills, now sticking up like a row of upturned cups along the ruler-flat plain only a few miles to the south-west.

‘I don’t think I was ever as happy as I was here.’ Thomas was indeed a picture of happiness as we rode together towards the great gates. ‘We were young, fit and keen to learn. We worked hard, we played hard and we took our leisure with the enthusiasm of youth. And this fine city offered everything a young man could ask.’ He looked across at me and winked. ‘Yes, and I mean everything. I was unmarried then, and even though I never seemed to have any money, life was very good to me.’

I was surprised at what sounded like a hint of regret in his voice, as I had always known him as a committed and contented family man. ‘Surely, Thomas, you have no regrets about life since returning to England, to medicine and to marriage?’

He laughed. ‘None whatsoever, but returning here is like seeing myself over twenty years ago, with all that hope and all that energy. If only I had had the knowledge I have now with the energy I had then.’

I grinned back at him. ‘Perhaps it was gaining all that knowledge that drained you of all that energy?’ It was said in jest, for even in his forties Thomas could not be matched for energy and had the steady pulling power of a Suffolk Punch. He smiled, turning in the saddle to be sure that the rest of the party had not fallen too far behind.

   

 

It was an hour later but still warm and light when we finally arrived at the Albergo Il Bo, under a sign depicting an ox. All around us was the evidence of wealth and faith in the future: new buildings being constructed; busy people looking confident and comfortable. Before leaving us in Bolzano, Niccolò had promised me that I would feel the standard of living rising as we approached Venice, and I could certainly feel that now.

‘There’s the medical department of the university opposite us,’ called Thomas excitedly, and I could see him reliving the past as he looked across the narrow, cobbled roadway at the yellow plaster-work building and the dark, arched stone doorway through which he must have passed a thousand times as a young man. I looked through the darkness of the archway and could see the light still streaming down into the courtyard beyond.

Suddenly I felt as if I understood what our endless days of travel had been about. The largest part of our journey was done; we had arrived at the first of our destinations.

Eckhardt made his farewells to us here, for he planned to join friends in the city. His Grace, Thomas and I entered the inn to see what, if anything, they could offer for our comfort. Luckily they had plenty of room and we were able to establish ourselves quickly, without having to undergo the earl’s usual ritual of manipulating the conversation to be sure he got the best room. To be fair, it was he who settled the accounts at the end of each stay, but occasionally I wished that we were not reminded quite so frequently of his status in our little group.

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