Summer threw one swift glance back at her father, who raised his eyebrows before flicking a hand in acquiescence. Proprieties met, she tucked her hand in Humphrey’s offered arm, offering him a wide smile. “I did know that, my lord. Perhaps some day I may pay you a visit there. Will you tell me of it?”
She knew there were eyes on the pair of them as Humphrey led her quickly outdoors, but that was surely to be expected to one who was the King’s brother. Summer took a long moment as they walked to truly look at him, to observe details torchlight had obscured in the night.
Tall, of course, as all the Lancaster were; dark hair that curled down his throat; a long elegance of limb that showed well in his walk; dark blue eyes that just now glittered with animation. He was a fine specimen of a man, this Humphrey of Gloucester. Strange that he should fixate on her.
“I wish I could my lady,” He admitted. “Yet I shamefully admit that I am yet to visit. I only received it a few months back.” Humphrey kept thinking of something she said, how she wouldn’t mind the pleasure of Gloucester, to know the mind.
“I keep thinking what kind of pleasure you associate me with, my lady Summer, for I have many.” He said in a tone that ended up more serious than he intended it to be. “If you refer to those rumours of wild orgies in Greenwich or Hadleigh, you shall be disappointed. I prefer to indulge in the pleasures of the mind when away from London, despite the contrary belief.”
“Do you read, Lady Summer?” he asked curiously. “Chaucer, Lydgate, Hocclave? Maybe some of the known Italian poets, like Petrarch? His love poems are heartbreakingly marvellous. As if he intended to make us believe that love can be only true if it is hurtful although I shall say, it never hurt me.”
The moment Humphrey mentioned ‘wild orgies’, Summer had to press her lips together to keep from laughing aloud. Her eyes sparkled with it, but fortunately for Humphrey’s pride, she was diverted by his question. “I do read! It is one of my great pleasures. I regret to say I have not encountered Petrarch, but I have become quite fond of his countryman Aligihieri. His Commedia is so beautiful! ‘Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate’,” she quoted. “Of late I have become terribly fascinated with the legends of King Arthur, though.”
Humphrey was truly impressed. He stopped, and looking back and seeing no one watched them, turning to her he kissed the back of her hand chivalrously. “Lady Summer, I have never known a maid quoting the Supreme Poet to me before, especially in Italian. Very impressive.” he said, looking deeply into her eyes while pressing the soft kiss on her hand, a light sparkle hinting the flirty undertone of the gesture. “I must confess, I do not speak Italian but little, yet, my Lady I hope that means not that I am to give up all my hopes? And I am but sure I shall not have to enter the Gate of Hell as long as having you by my side.”
He placed her hand back where it rested before on his arm, and continued walking. “Did you know that Dante is called one of the Three Fountains of Italy? He shares this illustrious title with Boccaccio, and the said Petrarch.”
“It seemed no time to be on guard against love’s bows; therefore I went my way secure and fearless – so, all my misfortunes began in midst of universal foe…” He started the poem,
“And this is where ‘Love found me all disarmed and found the way was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes which have become the halls and doors of tears.’…”
“Hitherto my lady, I shall return to my duties in the council chamber with a heavy heart, for I enjoyed this little occasion. Maybe we shall find better time and place for it to continue,” he said turning to her, “… Unless it is so, ‘It seems to me it did him little honour to wound me with his arrow in my state and you, armed, not show his bow at all.’”
“Must you depart so soon?” Summer blurted. She blushed, ducking her head, and tried to cover her confusion with another bit of Dante. “‘In that book which is My memory… On the first page That is the chapter when I first met you Appear the words… Here begins a new life.’” Delicately she slipped her hand from his. “Ah, but I am remiss; I have no right claim on your time. Yours is the business of governance.” She smiled up at him, glad to at last have found someone who shared the joys of reading and poetry with her.
“A word to my father will always find me, your grace. I’ll depart with this: ‘Bocca baciata non perde ventura, anzi rinnuova come fa la luna,’ and perhaps you can say it to me in English if we meet again,” she teased, then caught up her skirts for a quick curtsey.