As they knew, nothing is for free. Having the ability to trade with Venice is a luxury not many countries are afforded. For Wales to be able to do so is a huge victory. It transforms the face of things. It provides a new economic landscape for the province, not only for Wales but also for Suffolk.
In the kingdom, those are the only two provinces that have exceeded fiscal expectations, two years in a row. Wales and Suffolk have the lowest taxes by far in the whole of the country. They also have the most people working per capita, less crime, and overall happy, healthy citizens. The same cannot be said for many of the other provinces, which are severely mismanaged in different locations.
So this commerce with Venice will allow even more new jobs to be created. This boon means even fewer people will be in poverty, fewer taxes, and lower prices. All around it's a super boost, maybe even for the whole country. But as all things go, heavy is the head wearing the crown.
At what cost does all of this come? What has to be given up, to get what is wanted? Power is being able to make decisions. The one with the power holds all the cards. And if it doesn't work out, then is it worth it, to begin with. The bottom line is Wales doesn't need Venice, but Venice doesn't know that. So the Prince has the upper hand and being the master card player he is, those cards are held close to his vest.
Wednesday afternoon, Dogaressa (which is the fancy Italian word for Dutchess) Benedetta of Venice met with the Prince and Princess of Wales. Early in their marriage Charles established a rule— never meet with a lady alone. It creates a lack of impropriety. If his wife can't be with him to meet with women, then he rescheduled the appointment. And so the three monarchs met.
All the terms of trade were laid out and everything was going smoother than expected. Then the talk of payment ensued. That is when things began to get tricky. Dutchess Benedetta Gritti spelled out what she wanted as payment. "Your son's hand in marriage."
Charles steepled his fingers together on the table. "I see. I have two sons, both of them are one year old. How old is the lady you're speaking of?"
The Dogaressa laughed. "Well, she is not a lady. She is my granddaughter and barely even a young lady. In fact, she was just born last year to my eldest son, Francisco, and his wife Nicola. So my granddaughter and your daughter are the same age. Except your Gillian beats my Viviana by two months. Viviana Nicola Gritti or as the English would say— Vivian Nicole."
That changed things considerably in the Prince's mind. He wasn't sure how old of a girl he was expecting, maybe one of seven. But a baby was a welcome surprise. It must have changed things in his wife's mind too if the squeeze to his thigh was anything to go on. Eager to know more, he asked "What is your granddaughter's personality like? What kind of temperament would you say she has?"
A sigh of relief could have passed through Mary's mouth, but she held it in. She too wants to know this as well. Depending on the babe's nature, she could be a good fit for one son or the other.
With the smile only a grandmother could wear, Lady Benedetta pulled out a cameo brooch. Opening it, she handed it to the Prince and Princess. Inside is a miniature painting of Viviana. Mary cooed. The sweet little girl is very attractive with her dark hair and hazel eyes.
"That is my Vivi. Both of our sons have had nothing but boys. She's our first granddaughter and the love of her grandfather's life. She is quite spoiled," the Dutchess laughed.
Mary can understand that. So far Gillian is spoiled rotten by her father and anyone who meets her. She just wishes her daughter's grandfather would take a liking to her. But that might be like asking it to snow in the summer. "She's very attractive," the Princess told her passing the brooch back.
Looking at the picture, Lady Benedetta shared a bit of information with her two new friends. "I realize everyone speaks highly of their children, always wanting to seem important. Having raised my two boys and two daughters, as well as our previous grandchildren, Vivi is a breeze. She is a sweet-natured child and a pleasant baby. When she does cry it's because she's wet, hungry, feeling bad, or tired. This is rather humorous because her father was not like that as a child at all. If he was ignored, even the tiniest bit, he would wail something awful."
An expression of understanding crossed the Princess's face. "Our Gillian is like that. She's a very happy baby, definitely not a cry baby."
Charles agrees. "I think your granddaughter sounds like a perfect fit for our Owen. Owen is the second-born twin. He's a lot more headstrong than William. William is very compliant and calm. Viviana could be exactly what Owen needs as he matures into manhood. Someone calm, peaceful, thoughtful, and patient. My wife is like that with me." He looked at his wife, who looked at him. They shared an endearing smile.
Continuing to talk, the Prince proposed a deal. "If your family would agree to it, then we would like to offer our son, Prince Owen Henry Brandon as the betrothed of your granddaughter, Viviana Nicole Gritti. They would be the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk upon marriage. Suffolk holds a special place in both of our hearts, as that was our first title as a married couple."
A considerate look passed over the Dogaressa. "To be honest, our family would be happy with either of your sons. I know most people hold out for the firstborn, but that is not how our family operates. We are foremost, part of the merchants of Venice. To win at business you must have some authenticity and integrity— to be sincere. I can tell that's what you are, sincere— without wax as they say in Greece. So yes, on behalf of the Gritti family we accept your son Prince Owen Henry Brandon for our granddaughter. And we welcome you into our family."
The stately lady rose from the seat to hug and kiss the cheeks of the Prince and Princess. Then they discussed betrothal details, which made Mary excited. Neither Charles nor her knew of Italian betrothal and wedding customs, but Benedetta explained everything. One thing she informed them about is the Cassoni— a pair of marriage chests to celebrate the union and to hold the bride's possessions.
The Cassoni tell stories and teach lessons relevant to marriage. To create meaningful memories and connect the past to the present. It was decided that the bride's family would commission one and the groom's family another. Mary's mind began thinking of what she wanted it to look like, in honor of Owen's family.
After this, the Dogaressa and the Prince discussed the dowry. This made Mary think of her own wedding with no dowry. She still feels poorly about that. It's a mark of shame, even though her father gave them Hapus House in place of one later on. Once Charles and Benedetta signed their names on the legally binding contract everything became official. And she knew it was official because her husband never backs out of his word, ever. Her second baby boy would be marrying an Italian girl. Just like Charles, she doesn't care to think about that at present. Her baby is only one.
Both parties hugged and left the meeting room better off than they entered. Needing a breath of fresh air, His Highness suggested a walk around the gardens and maze. Mary eagerly agreed. As they walked, Mary asked, "I understand why Owen seems to be the better choice for Viviana, but why didn't you offer William?" Really, she thinks she already knows the answer but needs to hear it from him.
His eyes regarded her and what she said. "Well My Darling, he is our oldest son. Since he's our heir, his position will garner more scrutiny. I don't want him to be chastised for who he marries. Plus we don't know what the future holds. He very well could one day be the King of England. Even if he's not, your father is going to want us to make a deliberate match with some ruling monarch somewhere. I can see him having us betroth him to one of the Royal families of France, Portugal, or even Spain."
Scrutinizing his words, Mary's forehead wrinkled. "I wish he could marry for love. But you're right. My father will definitely want that. In the meantime, I'm very excited about the partnership with Venice." The two of them walked and talked about the trade agreement. Both are on the same page and are excited to see what Venetian trade will do for their provinces.
His Highness, in a burst of enthusiasm, grabbed his wife's hand and began rushing into the maze. He knows a good spot where they can kiss. However, as they rounded a corner moans could be heard. Moans that were definitely of an intimate kind. Putting a finger up to his mouth, for her to be quiet, he tightened the grip on her hand and pulled her close.
The two of them, quiet as could be, peeked around the other side of the maze corner. What they saw left them aghast. Edward Seymour and Princess Madeleine were having a sexual encounter right there in the palace maze. The palace maze! His pants were around his ankles and her dress was... Well, it's just inappropriate. The whole thing is unseemly, improper, and defamatory.
With a hand over her mouth, Mary could not believe it. Charles on the other hand is offended but not completely shocked. Taking his wife's arm, he led her out of the maze in silence. When they were out, he took off running with her hand-in-hand to the stables. They both laughed as they went.
Finally alone, he put his hands around her waist and helped her up onto a stack of hay. Once she was situated he joined her. Unable to be quiet any longer, the Princess spoke. "I cannot believe Edward Seymour would do such a thing! He's married to Anne Stanhope. And with Princess Madeleine no less. It's just so, so—"
"Uncouth," her husband finished. Seeing her scandalized face made him chuckle. "Was that worse than seeing your father?"
Shaking her head, she told him "No. I will have nightmares of both encounters." She shuddered with fright at the thought of it.
Again he laughed out loud. "But My Love, we did the same thing. Have you forgotten that's most likely how Gillian came to be?"
Taking a piece of hay, she pointed it at him. "No. No. No. What we did was totally different from them. We made love in our own private maze, at our own house. They are going at it in a very public place, in one of the palaces of England. The whole of the maze is now ruined for me. The Royal Gardener needs to sanitize it."
She's just severely appalled at this. Never can she ever think of Edward Seymour in the same light. She may never be able to look at him without some element of yuck factoring in. "I mean, why would he do such a thing? That's a huge risk." Then she had to know. "Besides the things we get up to, have you ever done such a thing with another woman?" He nodded. "Why?"
The answer is simple, so he told her. "Hormones went haywire." She did not look amused by this response. "It's a little thrilling too. Plus you're just so in lust you can't think clearly. But you're right. You and I are actually different because we're married. Although the only intimate, public acts we've ever done besides the maze have been that time on the beach at night, in the carriage, and deep, deep, deep with a blanket into the forest surrounded by fireflies."
Then he thought about it and scooted closer to her. Taking his own piece of hay, he ran it up her arm in a seductive manner. "However, we're very alone here. We could get up to something of our own." He waggled his eyebrows.
With a huff of breath, she communicated to him "Absolutely not. Anyone could walk in at any moment. Plus its hay. It's scratchy and uncomfortable. And what would people think of us? You the Prince and me the Princess."
Now he huffed out a breath. "Oh, Mary! You're only young once. Live a little." His blue eyes sparkled.
She angled herself to him. "Says the man who encouraged me to drink three glasses of wine the other night. I was so out of it and I have your love bite to prove it, in a place a lady shouldn't talk about. I live just fine for my young life, old man." She knew taunted and woke up the beast, but sometimes it's fun too.
His eyes narrowed. "Old man? I'll have you know I'm not yet forty. I'm not even thirty-five. Hardly old. In fact, I'll show you how old I really am." He then kissed her for all she's worth taking the breath out of her. It was, to put it mildly, glorious. They may not have done what Edward Seymour and Princess Madeleine did, but they came very close.
And when the pair returned to the castle, they met Anthony and Dot in passing. Dot's eyes inspected her friend with intrigue because she seems a little off-kilter and mischievous. Her eyes grew ten times as she pointed to the Princess's hair. Reaching a hand to where Dot pointed, Mary pulled a piece of straw out. She handed it to her husband as her face turned as red as her embellished dress.
It seemed like the rest of the time at court went by quicker than planned. Many new deals and agreements were made for the King and the kingdom, but the only one with Venice (a booming trade capital) was the one made with the Prince of Wales. The final day of the royal delegations ended with the afternoon archery tournament. Charles won, of course, cause not only does he have military prowess but is also incredibly athletic. His archery skills are top-notch. When he won an idea came to him, and he told the head judge about it who agreed.
Walking over to the Royal stands, he bowed to his wife. "Your Beautiful Highness, a wager if you will."
Narrowing her blue eyes, she told him "Continue." She just knows he's up to something.
With a smirk, he shared his plan. "I wager that I can beat you at archery. I think my aim is much more controlled than yours. I'm the Robin Hood to your Maid Marian. I'm the archer to your archeress." He knows he's goading her into it, but he has to start somewhere. All the eyes of the court were on them both. Chancing a look at the King, he seemed very entranced.
A peeved expression etched onto her face. "Oh really? You think you're better than me?" She stood up. "You and I have had this discussion before. I can beat you. I just choose not to. But now, Charles Brandon Prince of Wales, I am tired of letting you win and having this same tired conversation." Leaving her frilly fan in her seat, she walked down the stairs with her head held high. Dot and Paisley followed.
She never saw her husband motion to his squire to go bring her equipment, but he did. Once she was on the field, he directed her to the targets. Just as she rounded on him and poked her finger in his chest, the squire returned with her bow and quiver sets. A gasp left her mouth. "You planned this all along. You sneaky, sneaky man."
Taking her finger, he held it. "I did. I agree. It's time to see who's better. Just don't be mad when you lose. When you do so, you will have to feed me breakfast in bed for a whole month and go riding with me first thing. I promise I will make it worth your while."
A scowl formed on her pretty face. "You mock me. Well, let's just see who wins, shall we? And when I am the one who wins, don't complain. This is your idea, not mine. Therefore you will take me on a trip to Spain, as you know I want to see where my mother was born. Plus you will not roll your eyes at poetry or frilly shirts for a month."
They shook on it and began getting set up. Before the contest started, Charles told her "Mary, don't let me win. Treat me like a competitor."
Oh, she's going to treat him like one. That's for sure. Winning is the best kind of dessert. They set up the quivers for the sixty arrows. Going through her quiver, she made sure her special arrow was in there. Seeing it in her set, she felt excitement well up inside her. Reaching for her recurved, pearwood bow whose bowstrings come from the tail of an Irish Draught horse, she felt excited. Overall she is confident and ready.
With her arm guard on, she looked to her husband who signaled for her to go first. Nocking the first arrow, she drew the bow and loosed it. Nine points. She did the rest of the set of six arrows. She scored a good score of fifty. However, Charles scored two points higher with fifty-two.
On and on it went, back and forth the score volleyed. Until the final round. The Princess's score is currently five hundred sixty-two, and the Prince's is five hundred sixty-six. It's very close. For this round, they decided to take turns going back and forth. And Mary told him "I want you to go first."
For one reason she is hot and feeling sweaty. Thankfully Dot and Paisley kept her supplied with fresh water, wet cloths, and fans when it wasn't her turn. Charles eyed her with caution but decided to allow this change. He went first and nocked his arrow. When it loosed, it hit an eight spot. Not the best to start out with.
But on Mary's turn, she nocked her own arrow, drew the bow back, and let it loose. She added a little bit more power behind it and it bested his eight with a nine. The thing is, the previous rounds were child's play. She didn't even put her full strength behind them, in order to save it for the last round. Now she's going to go full speed ahead.
And that's how it went. Every time his arrow hit, she would beat it. However, his last arrow was a perfect ten. In order to best that she would have to Robin Hood it, as they say. It's nearly impossible, but not improbable. Taking her special arrow, made of the black swan feather with the golden arrowhead, she smiled.
Her husband saw it and said, "What the heck is that?" He's never seen an arrow like it before.
Not affected, she explained, "It's regulation grade materials and if I do what I think I can do, then I will tell you about it after." With intense concentration, she nocked the special arrow. The pearwood bow was drawn back with all her strength and it flew threw the air straight to the center of the target. Charles's arrow had landed in the middle, but a little off-center. Hers was perfect, right on the spot. The crowd clapped wildly and she took a curtsy.
When she saw the arrow perfectly placed, a huge smile broke out on her face. Turning to His Highness, she saw his mouth gaping open. His final score is six hundred fourteen. Her final score just happened to be six hundred fifteen, one point ahead of him for the victory. She did not gloat but simply declared "I would like to go to Spain sometime in the new year. And since it was such a tight game, I will go riding with you every day for a month. But you have to make it worth my while, as you said."
He sidled up to her and held both of her hands. "That's great but what I really want to know is all about that arrow."
With her own cheeky grin, she informed him "It's my black swan arrow made of hawthorn wood and a golden arrowhead. Everyone knows a black swan is unexpected and unforeseen. No one thought I would beat you. It was an unforeseen victory. Hence my black swan arrow."
His head shook in disagreement. "Oh Mary, you are so wrong. I knew you could beat me. That's why I wanted you to take the challenge. I have faith in you. And I think I have my own black swan..." He pulled her close and the same as the last time she won an archery competition, he dipped her back into a kiss. She wasn't expecting it and let out a little "oof". The unexpected makes life a little sweeter.