guest was treated. He was a young man, too, and good looking, if one favoured the dark skin and brown eyes of the south.
His hostess would need to have a care — this man, his obviously familiar presence at Sir Mathew’s table, would be yet another cause for scandal if it were generally known.
‘Dear Lady Anne, you honour me, a poor Friar.’ The merchant had difficulty in keeping the scorn from his face, for Friar Giorgio was hardly the picture of a poor man. His habit was made from the finest, most densely dyed black woollen cloth and he wore boots of fashionable, soft leather instead of the customary sandals on his feet.
The friar stood and raised his right hand, slowly tracing the sign of the cross over the people below the dais where he’d been sitting. ‘May the good Lord look down upon our work this day and, at this its end, may we sleep the peaceful sleep of the just and the worthy in God’s sight. Amen.’
William was surprised — he’d been expecting the priest to speak in Latin, but the blessing was well and gracefully made in French, with hardly a hint of an Italian accent. This was an educated man, plainly, not like some of the ignorant brigands who claimed the shelter of a cleric’s robes.
‘Amen,’ echoed Anne with the household and, after a moment for quiet reflection, she smiled warmly at her guests. ‘Father Giorgio, we are most grateful for your blessing. I shall look forward to our conversation later today, perhaps after None? You must be very tired after your long journey. I think Deborah has the guest chamber prepared — you must rest well before we speak.’
William did not know, and Anne was not about to tell him, that Father Giorgio was part of a long-term plan she had. Before her son was born, they’d met at the convent where she’d been hidden, at which he regularly said mass for the sisters. He knew her secret — but then she also knew his.
He was a worldly man, this priest, and yet devout, but his great weakness was a love of young men. He flogged himself for it, but could not resist. Anne had once found him with a young shepherd who tended the sisters’ flocks in the fields outside the convent. She could have destroyed him with what she saw, but though the Bible condemned his feelings for the beautiful young peasant boy, and the acts they had performed in the fields together, she could not blame another human being for seeking the comfort of love, wherever it was offered.
She too understood how hard it was to love what was forbidden in the eyes of the world. No, she was not shocked by his passions, but she was sorry for him, so sorry that he was trapped in a life which could not allow him to express who he truly was. And her compassion made her a friend for life — and a commercial ally — for the priest was a well-travelled man.
Now, for the first time since her son was born, Friar Giorgio had come to visit Anne in Brugge with precious information: news of fashions in Italy and Paris — even bringing her samples of new fabrics with drawings of clothing and the ways women were dressing their hair. He was an amusing and adroit penman, amongst many other talents.
Since he was good-looking and personable too, he had told Anne that many other fashionable, well-bred women in Rome, Venice, Florence and Paris welcomed his occasional visits, inviting him to their houses and to their tables, and in return for saying mass, they gave him news and amusing gossip. Giorgio’s taste mirrored Anne’s own and they had much to offer one another if her plans to become a trader were realised. He could be her eyes and ears in the world — they could help each other to prosper.
Giorgio kissed Anne’s hand like a courtier, with a deep flourishing bow, as Maxim escorted him from the hall, but phlegmatic Englishman that he was, Caxton found he deeply distrusted this priest who smelled very faintly of roses.
With a start, he remembered again that he must find a way to persuade his
His hostess would need to have a care — this man, his obviously familiar presence at Sir Mathew’s table, would be yet another cause for scandal if it were generally known.
‘Dear Lady Anne, you honour me, a poor Friar.’ The merchant had difficulty in keeping the scorn from his face, for Friar Giorgio was hardly the picture of a poor man. His habit was made from the finest, most densely dyed black woollen cloth and he wore boots of fashionable, soft leather instead of the customary sandals on his feet.
The friar stood and raised his right hand, slowly tracing the sign of the cross over the people below the dais where he’d been sitting. ‘May the good Lord look down upon our work this day and, at this its end, may we sleep the peaceful sleep of the just and the worthy in God’s sight. Amen.’
William was surprised — he’d been expecting the priest to speak in Latin, but the blessing was well and gracefully made in French, with hardly a hint of an Italian accent. This was an educated man, plainly, not like some of the ignorant brigands who claimed the shelter of a cleric’s robes.
‘Amen,’ echoed Anne with the household and, after a moment for quiet reflection, she smiled warmly at her guests. ‘Father Giorgio, we are most grateful for your blessing. I shall look forward to our conversation later today, perhaps after None? You must be very tired after your long journey. I think Deborah has the guest chamber prepared — you must rest well before we speak.’
William did not know, and Anne was not about to tell him, that Father Giorgio was part of a long-term plan she had. Before her son was born, they’d met at the convent where she’d been hidden, at which he regularly said mass for the sisters. He knew her secret — but then she also knew his.
He was a worldly man, this priest, and yet devout, but his great weakness was a love of young men. He flogged himself for it, but could not resist. Anne had once found him with a young shepherd who tended the sisters’ flocks in the fields outside the convent. She could have destroyed him with what she saw, but though the Bible condemned his feelings for the beautiful young peasant boy, and the acts they had performed in the fields together, she could not blame another human being for seeking the comfort of love, wherever it was offered.
She too understood how hard it was to love what was forbidden in the eyes of the world. No, she was not shocked by his passions, but she was sorry for him, so sorry that he was trapped in a life which could not allow him to express who he truly was. And her compassion made her a friend for life — and a commercial ally — for the priest was a well-travelled man.
Now, for the first time since her son was born, Friar Giorgio had come to visit Anne in Brugge with precious information: news of fashions in Italy and Paris — even bringing her samples of new fabrics with drawings of clothing and the ways women were dressing their hair. He was an amusing and adroit penman, amongst many other talents.
Since he was good-looking and personable too, he had told Anne that many other fashionable, well-bred women in Rome, Venice, Florence and Paris welcomed his occasional visits, inviting him to their houses and to their tables, and in return for saying mass, they gave him news and amusing gossip. Giorgio’s taste mirrored Anne’s own and they had much to offer one another if her plans to become a trader were realised. He could be her eyes and ears in the world — they could help each other to prosper.
Giorgio kissed Anne’s hand like a courtier, with a deep flourishing bow, as Maxim escorted him from the hall, but phlegmatic Englishman that he was, Caxton found he deeply distrusted this priest who smelled very faintly of roses.
With a start, he remembered again that he must find a way to persuade his
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