Five Husbands for Margherita

By Yvonne Taylor

This is the story of a powerful woman in Italian medieval times. While it is true that many stories circulated about a seductive Margherita Aldobrandeschi, some believe she had little choice in her marriages or even the number of them. The author carried out vast research while looking for the truth about Margherita. In her account the facts that surround Margheritas five marriages are, for the most part, true. However, she has made some changes or inventions to facilitate the story. She hopes any historians reading this book will forgive her for these manipulations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504941709

Yvonne Taylor

Yvonne Taylor was born in England but spent most of her life in foreign countries. During the many ensuing international encounters her wish to become an author grew steadily. This is her sixth book. Taylor now lives in Tuscany where there is plenty of inspiration for further fiction.

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© 2015 Yvonne Taylor. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/24/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4169-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-4170-9 (e)

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M argherita viewed herself in the mirror. Her dress looked heavy and unproportionate on her small frame. Elaborate lace and embroidery bordered the mutltiple layers of precious silk and finest cotton in various shades of white and cream. The best seamstresses in Siena were set to work by her father to make the wedding dress of his only child, but it gave her no pleasure. She knew the dress was merely a demonstration of her father’s unquestionable status. His object was obviously to leave no doubt with the onlooker as to his family’s wealth and power. While Margherita stared silently at the reflection of herself in the exclusive attire, tears welled in her eyes. A great sadness overcame her when she considered what fate her father had laid out for her. Ildebrandino Aldobrandeschi, Count of Sovana, the most powerful man in Southern Tuscany, would not allow his daughter to marry the suitor she desired. A week ago her father summoned her to the grand hall and informed her, in his usual cold and aloof manner, of the name of her husband-to-be following his audience with the Pope. A name she had never heard before.

Margherita looked away from the mirror and down at the small momento which lay in her hand. Then she closed her palm and held it tightly. Only ten days previously a handsome young viscount discreetly passed it to her when he neared her chair at her father’s annual banquet in Scarlino Castle. At the time she was not aware that the viscount was already watching her for quite a while wondering how to make her acquaintance.

The young viscount stood as casually as possible beside the ornate fireplace and observed the young woman who sat at the far end of the ballroom. He was attending his very first banquet in a grand castle and, while chatting to the cousin who accompanied him, he asked who she was. His cousin looked in the direction of his stare and shook his finger warningly. He was well aware of the status of the lady in question and told him not to waste his time. His advice was to no avail because the young viscount was already smitten with the beauty of the young woman seated so demurely on her red velvet seat. The viscount remarked that she seemingly looked permanently straight ahead and spoke to no-one. Sadly her eyes never wandered in his direction. His cousin warned him once more that it was out of the question to approach the young lady and gave him a stern look. The viscount did not heed the warning and said he was determined to catch the attention of the most attractive young woman in the hall. It fascinated him that although she was beautiful, she appeared exceedingly shy. He continued to watch her behaviour long after his cousin left his side to join other friends. The viscount saw that she was obviously unaware of the attention directed at her from practically all the men in the room. His gaze was transfixed on her until the moment he realised he was making a fool of himself by staring across the hall at her for hours. He concluded this was not the way a gentleman should invite her interest. He respected her status and would not embarrass her by speaking to her without a formal introduction, but he would leave a sign with her to ensure she knew who he was. After battling with his thoughts for several minutes as to the best way to carry out his undertaking, his mind was made up and he brushed his tunic down, smoothed his boyish beard and tugged at his thigh long boots to straighten them. He hoped he wouldn’t regret his act of spontaneity and courage and make himself look ridiculous but there was no going back now. He took a few unsteady steps with his feather hat held on his left arm and his right arm ready to fold beneath his chest in a bow, should anyone above his status appear before him. While he continued to walk towards her he saw that her hands were folded and rested gently on her lap. Clearly she was acting just as she had been taught but he wanted to place something in her hands without arousing anyone’s attention. Every step took him closer to the shy young woman sitting immediately next to an older lady, who his cousin told him earlier was her distraught mother. Then while he neared them he noticed the bitter expression on the face of the unhappy mother and it almost made him retreat from his undertaking. But he did not want the evening to pass without at least attempting to approach the young woman who intrigued him. Finally his bravery won the day and he stood in front of Margherita’s chair. She looked up at him in surprise. Her dark brown eyes shone in the light of the hundreds of candles which hung from the chandeliers the whole length of the hall. Her expression was one of innocence and she seemed taken aback that someone stood before her. While their eyes met time seemed to stand still for the anxious young man and he felt his mouth dry out and his knees buckle. The young viscount’s nervousness was growing uncontrollably but he knew the next moments were of utmost importance. He looked at Margherita with a determined expression and gathered all his courage together. With a swift tug he ripped at an emblem fixed inside a golden mount on the feather of his hat. Margherita let out an almost silent gasp while she tried to comprehend what he was doing. He watched her reaction and was pleased. The woman he admired from afar practically all evening, and finally so painstakingly and awkwardly approached, instantly stole his heart. He battled his overflowing emotions and with shaking hands secretly and swiftly placed the precious emblem between her fingers. Then he bent towards her and whispered in an unsteady voice that it was a token of his undying admiration. He turned away and quickly departed from the grand hall, winding his way between groups of people who were chatting and laughing together.

Margherita watched him walk away and felt a tug in her heart while he marched steadily towards the door. Two footmen stood to attention and opened the double doors for him and he left the grand hall without looking back. She saw his boots disappear around the corner and the heavy oak doors were once again closed. Then she looked down at the emblem and smiled. She was happy that he noticed her and wanted to leave a sign with her, although she pretended not to notice him all evening. She too was fascinated by the handsome young man who stood so nervously with one elbow rested on the mantlepiece of the grand fireplace, but her upbringing did not allow her to let it be shown. After he left she spent some minutes day-dreaming about him until her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by her mother. Perhaps her mother had seen the young man approach because she gave her a harsh look and told her to accompany her immediately. Tommasia di Baschi was taking her daughter Margherita to a further family castle in Piancastagnaio. Her mother quickly stood up from her chair before a footman who rushed to her side could assist her. She was complaining and obviously ailing once again due to her husband’s unbearable behaviour and she wanted to put as many miles as possible between herself and her spouse. Margherita sighed and unwillingly followed her mother from the grand hall, although she was almost glad to hear that their sudden departure was not because of the young viscount. It was disappointing to leave because she was enjoying watching the people chatter and listening to the musicians playing their instruments close to where she sat. The melodies were audible over the loud chatter of hundreds of guests and she loved listening to any kind of music. But earlier she was also keen to give the impression of being completely absorbed by the music while she observed the handsome young viscount at the other end of the hall.

This evening was to be the first of many occasions for her to be shown off by her father and thus attract as many wealthy suitors as possible for him to make the best choice. Margherita herself was not aware of her father’s intentions but the evening proved to be an immense relief from the usual boredom of her days. While she hastened to keep up with her mother as she made her exit, her father did not come to say goodbye. It did not surprise her. In the past she often heard the servants whispered gossip that he ignored his wife while women never failed to encircle him, whenever he made his appearance at his popular events. Margherita looked back into the room and saw that he was occupied with a group of ladies.

Footmen saluted mother and daughter and ordered a carriage to be brought for Tommasia to the main entrance. Margherita stood on the steps and looked around while the footmen located one of the castle’s carriages and nervously shouted for drivers. When the carriage finally stood before them her mother heaved her heavy body from the tiny step to the leather bound seats in the interior of the elaborate coach. Margherita observed her mother’s difficulty and attempted to help. She was pushed aside. She too climbed into the carriage and sat on the opposite seat. She gazed expectantly out of the carriage window. Torches burnt all over the huge courtyard and she could see every detail of her surroundings even though night had fallen hours before. Her eyes were bright and mischievous as they swept the entire courtyard while the carriage pulled away. Perhaps the viscount was nearby and she could casually ask her mother who he was. She would have loved to know his name and where he came from. But there was no sign of him between the many horses and carriages jostling for space in the grand courtyard. The horsemen attempted to order the carriages behind each other to allow exit from the castle. The rich and powerful from the region would soon be sitting impatiently on their carriage seats waiting to be taken home.

It was a long and tiring journey to Piancastagnaio Castle, not least because her mother was distressed. She knew the two possible moods of her mother well. She was either wailing about the disgraceful behaviour of her husband or sitting in complete silence while ignoring her daughter’s existence. It seemed everyone was aware of her mother’s predicament. Margherita often heard the gossip of her father’s guests when she hid behind a door or curtain to view the fine attire of those present at his various events. According to the gossip it was common knowledge that her father did not wish to spend time with his wife on occasions such as their annual banquets. He preferred the admiring faces of other women and, on each occasion, the outcome was predictable. Margherita’s mother grew visibly weary and sickened as the evening wore on. When she could no longer attempt to ignore his outrageous behaviour it was time to depart to a place where she did not have to face him for a while. At these times, when Margherita was just a small child, she was whisked from her bed by the nursemaid and carried down to the awaiting carriage. Wrapped in her blankets she attempted to fall asleep again. Now she was older and well accustomed to these incidents and they no longer disturbed her. The procedure was always the same. She was woken up and summoned to accompany her mother. She always dressed quickly and hurried down to the main doors of the castle where her mother waited. She sat quietly in her mother’s carriage during the escape, knowing that any form of conversation was not welcome. It was no different tonight at Margherita’s very first appearance in public, except that she herself was allowed to be present in the grand hall. Now the pleasant evening was abruptly over for her and the carriage sped into the night. Margherita’s hope of seeing the young viscount disappeared into the darkness.

The following afternoon Margherita was embroidering a lace handkerchief at the window of her room. It was a pastime that bored her, but girls of her station had very little to do while the years slipped away until they were of a suitable age to marry. She was an only child and there were no siblings to spend her days with. Her tutors were her only companions but they were old and didn’t want to share idle conversation with a young girl who was rapidly changing into a woman. Margherita watched the townfolk and soldiers pass beneath her window and wished she could be involved in any form of activity just to be among people. While she stared at the passers-by in the courtyard below a parchment was passed under her door. She heard the sound of paper against the stone floor and was surprised that nobody knocked and waited for her to open the door. She got up to retrieve the letter and picked it up hesitantly, then turned it in her hands. It was folded neatly and sealed with wax. Her heart thumped wildly when she saw that the crest on the wax was the same as that on the precious emblem the young viscount gave her the evening before. It was also the same crest as he wore on his tunic. She hastened to break the seal so she could read the contents of the letter. When she unfolded the parchment it made her smile. She saw that the writing was confident and full of beautiful flourishes and that the parchment was water-marked with the same family crest as was displayed on the wax seal. Her eyes went immediately to the signature at the bottom.

She wanted to savour the words he wrote so she went back to the window and sat on the chair before starting to read. She held her breath while she took in the wording. A slight blush began to appear on her face. The viscount had written his bold and passionate words in no uncertain terms, telling her that he was infatuated by her angelic face and wished to spend the remainder of his days on earth with her. She trembled while reading his declaration of love for her. The romantic prose continued in a promise that he intended to ask her father for an audience. He would then request a betrothal to the only daughter of the Count of Sovana. Margherita’s hands shook uncontrollably when she finished reading the letter. It was the first time in her life that she received compliments of any kind and the slight blush grew deeper and spread all the way from her neck to her forehead. She held the letter close to her heart and cried tears of joy. She did not consider who secretly pushed the letter under her door. In her heart she was certain the viscount would soon stand before her and her life would begin.

But someone had intercepted the letter and masterly repaired the seal after breaking it and reading the content of the secret message. The information it contained was rapidly passed on to Ildebrandino Aldobrandeschi. On hearing of the unwelcome declaration of love to his only daughter, Margherita’s father went into one of his common rages.

The young viscount was merely the son of an inconsequential landowner north of Siena. His origins were insufficient for the daughter of the Count of Sovana, known as Rosso, the Red Count, the most powerful man in southern Tuscany. Margherita’s father stepped in to prevent any further contact with the young viscount. Her father ensured that she married a man worthy of her status. The wedding to a desirable person was carefully planned by him and blessed by the Pope. Then Margherita was informed. On 10th August 1270 Margherita was 15 years old. It was her wedding day.

Margherita’s mother, Tommasia, did not come to assist her with her wedding dress. She was feeling poorly, as always, when she disagreed with her husband’s acts and was forced to concede that any opinion of hers was overlooked. It would have been Tommasia’s decision to wait several years longer until her daughter had to bear the misery of marriage and all it entailed. So Margherita stood alone in her room with her sorrow and only a maid was sent to help her into the dress and to order her hair.

Margherita realised long ago that her mother was out of favour with her husband. She did not need to hear the gossip of others. Her mother failed to bear more than one child to inherit the massive swathes of land the family owned. Thus to be the only child and merely a girl cemented Margherita’s fate. She would be required to marry as powerful a man as possible in order to increase the wealth and power of the Aldobrandeschi family.

Margherita was the sole heiress to Sovana and Pitigliano. Her, as yet unknown to her, husband-to-be was Count Guido di Montfort of Nola a son of the 6th Earl of Leicester, Simon di Montfort. They would marry in the papal city of Viterbo. The marriage had the consent of King Charles I of Naples, King of Sicily. But most importantly for the Red Count, the marriage would prevent a potential entanglement with an attractive young suitor who he considered below the status of the Aldobrandeschi family.

Margherita patiently waited for the maid to finish attaching a small white crown of silk entwined with fresh flowers to her hair. Then the maid curtsied her and left without a word. Margherita was once again alone and stood shaking at the window in her room waiting for instructions. After a few minutes a guard of her father’s private army appeared at her door. He saluted her and then said she had been summoned to the main entrance. He told her that her father’s carriage was waiting there. Without looking into her face he said that her father would accompany her to Viterbo Cathedral, but her mother was indisposed and would not attend the ceremony.

While the guard spoke these words Margherita had an insurmountable desire to run away. At this moment her only wish was to marry the handsome viscount, instead of having a marriage with an unknown man forced upon her. But there was no news from the young viscount and she had no idea of his whereabouts. She worried that he may be punished for approaching the daughter of the mighty Red Count. She did not wish to put his life in danger by attempting to find him. So she walked obediently behind the guard and considered that if she was to flee she would not be able to do it alone. She would need help but she knew of no servants who would be willing to risk their lives by aiding their young mistress and opposing their master. In fact Margherita knew nobody at all that could or would help her escape from an unwanted marriage. The tears ran down her face while she followed the guard’s steps. It felt almost as if she was headed for the gallows.

A week earlier when her father told her about her imminent wedding, he said nothing about her husband-to-be, apart from his name. She could only imagine him as an old and ugly person who she would detest. In her mind she was certain he was repulsive and desperate to marry a young bride like herself. Margherita was not prepared for marriage. Her mother never spoke of the demands a husband put on an unsuspecting bride. She was an innocent child about to be delivered like a package to an unknown person and she had no idea what to expect.

Margherita gave up hope of running away and felt lost and confused while she followed the guard down the huge winding staircase and outside into the heat of the day. Nobody helped her by holding her dress and she almost tripped on the wide stone steps. There were guards at the side of the steps but their faces were apparently made from stone and they showed no sign of concern while she swept up her dress in order not to fall. She saw how her father sat waiting in the carriage with an impatient expression on his face. A footman opened the carriage door and, without looking at her, the Red Count told his daughter to hasten while she struggled to climb into the carriage with the unfamiliar weight of her wedding clothes pulling her down and impeding her steps. She held her head low so he couldn’t witness the tears forming repeatedly in her eyes. She sat opposite him as she was ordered to do. The horses were given free rein and they pulled the carriage swiftly away from Castle Piancastagnaio. She looked back and felt utter dismay while the castle disappeared from view. It was the only place which gave Margherita some sense of home during her childhood years. This castle within its beautiful grounds was used by her mother as a safe