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Though you may find it hard to believe now, I was once a pretty girl when the bloom of youth still gilded my cheeks. I used to receive many admiring glances and love notes from the young bucks of the town when I was sitting in church on a Sunday, especially if they thought my father wasn’t looking. Now I am as you see me, with white hair and wrinkled skin, although my teeth have survived the ravages of time, thank God or good fortune. Sadly my waistline betrays my fondness for too many honey and almond pastries, although there was a time when a man could girdle my waist with his two hands. It all seems so long ago now, but inside, I am still that young woman.I was born in the great port of Kings-town, on the banks of the River Hull where it runs into the great estuary of the Humber a days sail from the sea. My father was a merchant with a fleet of three fine cogs, and a great warehouse on the waterfront. His trade was mainly in cloth, and he was well thought of by the monks of the Abbey at Meaux for offering them a good price for export of their wool. In those days there was a great demand for rich silks by the great nobles and he would send a ship to Italy once in a while. Sadly, that has all ended with the Great Pestilence, and many in Kings-town now live in penury, those that were spared, that is. Besides, there are too few sailors to man all the great vessels of the town, and they now sit idle and rotting along the banks of the river.My father’s success meant that we became very wealthy, and could afford to eat meat every day of the week, except Friday, of course. My mother was taken in childbirth not long before my eighteenth birthday, and my father decided to go to Genoa for a year to establish a presence in that fine city in order to increase the volume of his business there, being as it was, considerably more lucrative than the trade in woollen cloth. Rather than leave me at home in the care of my elderly aunts, my father decided to take me with him, with one of his widowed sisters to act as my chaperone. He said that it was because he would miss the musical sound of my soprano voice, and even my nonsensical prattlings. I thought it was more likely that he didn’t trust the young men of the town – as a good business man he was sharp of eye and keen of ear, and I’m sure he had been aware of their approaches in church when they thought he was lost in prayer.Anyway, on a fine spring day we set sail down the River Hull and out into the Humber. I had been taken on the ships many times in my childhood, though never beyond the place where we dropped the pilot, when we would disembark and take a lift with a carrier back to Kings-town. So I had long since lost my fear of the water, and I had never suffered from the sickness brought on by the movement Anadolu Yakası Escort of the ship upon the waves, unlike my mother who would go green as soon as she set foot on the deck.It was wonderful to stand on the forecastle and watch the billowing canvas glowing white against the blue of the sky; serenaded it seemed by the calls of the busy sailors, trimming the sails to take best advantage of the wind, and the piercing cries of the gulls. My poor aunt suffered the same as my mother and rapidly disappeared below decks to the safety of her berth. I was so excited at this great adventure, free from the cloying familiarity of my home town and with the lack of caution of the young, that my father eventually had to order me below when the wind grew fresh and the vessel started to roll, for fear of me being washed overboard he said.It took the whole of the day to reach the sea, and rather than set out on those treacherous waters at night, we anchored in the lea of the spit of land that juts out over three miles from the land, and which makes the safe haven for ships when the autumn storms blow from the north — no sensible man will venture out in winter.The voyage took two months, and we rarely ventured far from sight of land. But at last we anchored in the straits outside Genoa, waiting for a berth to become free in the harbour. The sight of the city even from the sea was wondrous fair, so different from our home port. The buildings seemed to go on for miles, and in the rays of the evening sun they glowed with a rainbow of colours from pale green to flaming red.My father has sent an agent ahead of us many months before to find us a suitable house in a fashionable quarter of the city — in business, he said, appearances are so important. When I first saw the house, I had to clap my hands with joy. This was the first stone-built house that I had ever seen, not at all like the timber and brick houses of England. Above the main entrance, there was a balcony with a carved balustrade, and there were statues of Greek heroes either side of the main door, which was approached by a grand staircase. Inside, the rooms were cool, and at the end of the wide passageway, doors opened onto an enclosed courtyard with a raised pool in the centre with a tinkling fountain. Up to that point I had thought that our house in Kings-town was grand, but it was no better than a hovel compared to the splendour of the palace — which is how I thought of it — that was to be my home for the next year.The next few weeks passed uneventfully. My father was away most of the day, meeting with other merchants and agents from far away in the east. At night we would dine off silver in the great dining room, and my father would often ask me Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan to be hostess when he entertained influential men of the city and beyond. During the day my aunt and I would venture out into the city to see the sights, either in the cool of the morning, or more often, late afternoon. The heat of the noonday was such that few ventured out of doors, and we followed their example, preferring to spend the hottest hours in the cool of our rooms, with their thick stone walls, or sitting by the fountain in the courtyard.My story really begins, however, in early September, when my aunt fell ill and took to her bed. I was under instructions not to venture out alone, but I was a headstrong girl, and I reckoned that taking one of the servants with me was not strictly breaking the rules. So it was that one glorious Tuesday morning I found myself sitting on the low wall surrounding an ornamental fountain in one of the city’s many squares, with my servant at a respectable distance — he was of a lower class after all. I was doing nothing in particular, just enjoying the feeling of freedom, and possibly enjoying it all the more because it was slightly naughty.I was sitting idly running my fingers across the surface of the water and daydreaming when I heard a strange man’s voice, apparently addressing me. “And what, pray, is a beautiful young lady doing here all on her own? Do you not know that it is not entirely safe for someone as fresh and lovely to go around unattended.”I turned to see from whence the voice came, and gasped, putting my hand up to my mouth in my confusion. There just an arms-length away stood the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, so beautiful he could not be human. He was obviously a prince, dressed as he was in a gown of finest silk shot through with threads of silver and gold. His striped stockings of white and red — hose is too crude a word — fitted his shapely legs so perfectly that you could see every detail of his muscles, and on his feet were shoes so dainty they were more like ladies slippers. But best of all was his hat, set lightly on his dark curls and surmounted by a long feather at a jaunty angle.Once I had gathered my wits, I answered him in the firmest tone I could manage, “But I am not alone, kind sir, see there is my servant over there,” and I gestured across the square to where a group of youths were playing dice, my servant among them.“That may be so, my lady, but it will soon be getting uncomfortably warm. Why don’t you come with me to my house?” And he gestured in the other direction to what truly looked to me like a palace, “And then, over a glass of chilled wine, we can get to know each other better.”I should have done the sensible thing, Escort Anadolu Yakası I know, but I was absolutely smitten by this figure of a god, and all I could do was meekly nod my head. Within what seemed like seconds, I was in such a dream, I found myself sitting across from this dark, and unbelievably handsome stranger, sipping a glass of wine such as I had never tasted in my life, telling him my life story.He listened very politely to my long speech, only interrupting me to say things such as “how interesting” or “how pleasant for you,” but at last my prattle petered out, and after a comfortable silence, he started to tell me a little about himself.He was not a prince or a god, as he had seemed to me, but a member of the ruling aristocracy and younger brother to the doge, their name for the elected ruler of the city. He was about fifteen years older than me, with a young wife who had just been delivered of a baby, and was now in their house in the country, a much healthier place for a child to be brought up, he said.After a while, Niccolo, for that was his name, looked across at the sundial in the corner of the courtyard where we were sitting and said, “It is about time we got you home, otherwise your family will be getting worried. I will send my footman to escort you and your servant safely through the streets. We can’t have you coming to any harm, especially before I have got to know you properly. But perhaps you would care to join me on Friday for a light meal of fish, and we can continue this extremely pleasant discourse,” and he lifted my fingers to his mouth and kissed them delicately.It was not until our third or fourth meeting that events took a turn for the better, or worse, it depends upon your point of view. But a dramatic turn it most certainly was. “Mia cara signorita,” he said in that gorgeous musical voice, “you are exceedingly beautiful, and I am a connoisseur of beautiful things and women, but,” and he leaned forward and gently brushed his fingers across my breasts, “such beauty should not be hidden behind muslin, or even silk. Why don’t you let me take you inside to the seclusion of my boudoir, and there let me remove those ugly wrappings that conceal your perfection?”I should have said no, and asked to be escorted back to my home, but in truth, I was totally under his spell, and I meekly let him lift me up, as easily as if I were a feather, and carry me to his room. What followed was an afternoon of such heavenly delight that it still makes my body grow warm with the memory of it, for that afternoon I ceased to be a maiden and became a woman.He gently undressed me, and when I was naked, began to run his fingers lightly from my neck and down to my breasts. His touch was so delicate, and yet so commanding, and exquisite sensations ran from the tips of his fingers throughout my entire body. To my surprise, for it had never happened before except when I was very cold, my nipples started to harden, and when he leaned forward to suckle them, I cried out with the sheer joy of it. But that was only a prelude to the incredible delights which were to follow.
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