Duty and Duplicity; Book 5 of Poacher's Progress
Chapter 5: Firenze, an Old Friend, and a Falcon

Copyright© 2017 by Jack Green

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 5: Firenze, an Old Friend, and a Falcon - It is said that travel broadens the mind, and Jack Greenaway enjoys a plethora of new experiences during his visit to Europe, ranging from the sublime to the terrifying. However, three factors drive Jack's peregrination through the continent. One is his quest for his disappeared sister. Another is investigating the whereabouts of Eloise de la Zouche, the woman responsible for the deaths of Jack's wife and children. The third, and most exacting, is the machinations of the British government.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Historical   Military   Violence  

I arrived back from my visit to Mary Shelley to find first a packet of mail from England, secondly a message from the Grand Duke of Tuscany asking I attend him in Firenze at my earliest convenience, and thirdly Otto Blackmore, who had returned from his furlough looking tired but happy – I assumed Livia would be looking equally tired and happy.

Otto enthused over the delights of Firenze, saying it was the most beautiful city in the world, and I would be denying myself an uplifting experience if I did not visit this jewel of Tuscany. When I informed him I would be visiting Firenze to attend the Grand Duke, Otto attempted to give me an itinerary to follow to take full advantage of my visit.

“I’m sure Firenze is as wonderful a place as you describe, Otto, but remember I will not be viewing the city with such an agreeable partner on my arm as you had on yours – the wearing of rose coloured spectacles come to mind.”

“There are Firenze females aplenty, who would be only too pleased to show you the sights, Colonel,” he grinned. “All of the sights, if you take my meaning.”

Indeed I did. However, I had not the slightest inclination to fornicate, even with the most alluring of females. To all and intents and purposes John Thomas had taken French leave.

After supper I sat and read my mail. I had told those who wished to write to me while I was in Tuscany to address the letters to me care of the Foreign Office. From Whitehall my mail was dispatched, via diplomatic bag, to the British Embassy in Milan, who then arranged to have it delivered to me in Livorno. The batch just received included letters from the Slades, the Jayne-Braithwaites, and the Crawshays, all giving long details of their lives, of which I will not bore you, but generally, they were all enjoying life, love, and happiness.
There was also a letter from Sir Boris Crossley giving a short account of our joint business venture, which was making a tidy profit.

I was disappointed not to have any news from Mimi Renoir at Château Blanchard, but I knew the winter in Flanders had been particularly harsh, and the spring extremely wet, and assumed managing the estate in such trying times had engaged all her energies and attention. I sighed – I missed knowing of the daily life of those at Blanchard’s, in fact I felt more of an affinity to that French château than to my family’s farm in Lincolnshire.

Next morning I readied myself for the journey to Firenze. I would need to wear my Ducal Guard uniform when appearing before the Grand Duke, but as I then intended spending sometime in the city as a sightseer, as well as paying a courtesy call on the British Consul-General, I also packed civilian clothing. With the amount of luggage involved I decided that rather than ride I would take passage along the Livorno–Pisa canal, and then transfer to one of the many barges plying the River Arno between Pisa and Firenze.

The canal journal brought back memories of the Kennet and Avon canal, although my eight hour journey on the Livorno–Pisa canal lay through a flat, uninteresting, wetland plain, rather than the picturesque vista gained along the Kennet and Avon – and the that canal did not suffer from the plague of midges and mosquitoes of the Livorno-Pisa. I was more than glad to quit the canal in Pisa and board a well-appointed, oared, barge for the journey to Florence.
As a member of the Ducal Guard, I merited a prime place on board, and my merest wish was instantly gratified. I sat in splendour, waited on by uxorious flunkies, as sweating oarsmen rowed along the broad, sluggish, river. We stayed overnight at Pontedare. Although the distance between Pisa and Pontedare was somewhere near a dozen miles as the crow flies, the many bends of the river easily doubled that distance. The next morning we set off at sunrise, and by mid-afternoon Firenze came into view.

There are many ways to approach Firenze, but I maintain the most beautiful is the one by river. Surrounded by hills, the towered and domed city has a backdrop of terraced, vineyarded slopes, with the whole area bathed by afternoon sunshine, making the red tiles of the houses glow, and those of the dome of the cathedral dazzling, all suffused by the especial, luminous, light of Tuscany. The barge pulled alongside a jetty near a bridge with houses built on it – reminiscent of Old London Bridge – this was the Ponte Vecchio, the Old Bridge.
I disembarked and hired a couple of brawny loungers to carry my trunk. Fortunately for them it was but a short walk to the Ducal Palace, or Palazzo di Pitti as it is known.

I introduced myself at the Palazzo guardroom, and was shown to a comfortable room in Forte di Belvedere.
Next morning I kicked my heels for two hours waiting in the Audience anteroom before eventually paying my respects to the Grand Duke Francisco, who appeared ill, being weak of speech and intellect.
Fortunately, his son Leopold was at his side and conducted the audience, which was over within a few minutes, although Duke Leopold asked me to meet him in his suite after the presentations in the Audience Room were over. An hour later, I was seated in front of Duke Leopold in his private suite, where he asked searching and pertinent questions relating to the progress of the training of the Greek volunteers.

“The thing is, Colonel, once these men return to Greece we have no idea how they behave on the battle field, if indeed there have been any battles. News from Greece is sparse and confusing.”

“The men are well trained and prepared to fight when they leave Livorno, Your Highness. How well they perform in battle will depend on the calibre of their officers.”

“Quite so, quite so. A weapon is only as good as the warrior who wields it.” He pursed his lips in thought. “It may have been as well to institute a training regime for their officers?”

I nodded, but thought it most unlikely that the class of men who would be the officers would deign to be taught. The ruling class, of any and all countries, believe they have been ordained, by that figment of men’s imagination, to be born leaders, and need no practise in the art.

“I will visit Livorno, and see for myself the training of these Greeks, Colonel.”

“Certainly, Sir. After seeing the British Consul-General later today I will return to Livorno and set things in motion for your inspection.”

“You need not run off so soon, Colonel. I suggest you stay to enjoy the many delights Firenze has to offer for at least a week or two. A galloper can be sent to acquaint your aide-de-camp of my impending visit. Is a he competent officer?”

“Indeed he is, Sir. Lieutenant Blackmore served as ADC to his father, who commanded a regiment at Waterloo. An inspection, even by some one of your importance, will not confound him. But of course I will be on hand to face any criticism you make during your visit.”

“I’m sure that is something which will not come to pass,” he said, smiling.
I then broached the subject of my absence from the training team during the Congress of Verona.
“The congress begins on October the tenth, Sir. The Greek volunteers who arrive at the beginning of September will still have three weeks of training to complete when the congress begins. Lieutenant Blackmore and I will need to leave Livorno at least a week before the start of the congress...”

Leopold interrupted me. “Probably more like two weeks – and when does the congress end?

“There is no fixed date, although I would hope the discussions do not continue for as long as those of the Congress of Vienna.”

Duke Leopold frowned. “They spent nearly a year bickering and squabbling, and I suspect the delegates would be still be there arguing if Napoleon had not escaped from Elba.” He thought a moment. “Do you have full confidence in the two British officers you have on the training team?”

“Absolutely, Sir. Lieutenants Hughes and Eliot have exceeded all my expectations. They have done a superlative job in running the training program, ably and professionally assisted by their NCOs. I have complete faith in their capabilities.”

He smiled. “Well, in that case those two gentlemen should function just as efficiently when you are absent. I suggest you and Lieutenant Blackmore leave for Verona at the end of September – travel at that time of year can be difficult, and I would not want the British delegation to be without your expertise when the Congress opens. When the Congress of Verona concludes, which I would hope to be by the end of December at the latest, send Lieutenant Blackmore back to Livorno to deal with any administrative tasks. You are then permitted to take a leave of absence until March of next year. You have carried out your duties, as commander of the training team, and military advisor, efficiently and competently. I feel you deserve some reward for your diligence.”

He stood up, indicating the meeting was at end. I thanked him profusely, saluted, and left the room.

Outside in the corridor I wondered what I would do with all the free time surprisingly awarded me. I contemplated visiting Château Blanchard, although travelling across Europe in the depths of winter is not an expedition to be taken lightly. However if the Congress of Verona finished in November I would have plenty of time to make the journey.
With the prospect of seeing Château Blanchard, and Mimi Renoir, a bright thought in my mind I went looking for someone to direct me to the residence of the British Consulate-General.
As good fortune would have it, I encountered Lieutenant Federico Fellini, the young Ducal Guard officer who had welcomed Otto and me to Livorno.

“Your Consulate is situated on the other side of the river in the Piazza della Signoria. As you are a member of the Grand Duke’s household you are allowed to use the Corridoio Vasariano to get there.”

“The what?”

Fellini explained that the Corridoio Vasariano is the enclosed passage that connects the present ducal palace, Palazzo di Pitti, to the former ducal palace of Palazzo Vecchio, situated on the Piazza della Signoria. The covered way crosses the River Arno via the Ponte Vecchio, and was built for the Grand Duke Cosimo to travel between his residence and the seat of government without seeing, or being seen by, the local populace -- most sovereigns would applaud his acumen, and his paranoia.


“I have received many favourable reports of you, Colonel, from no less a luminary than Leopold, Duke of Chianti, and the even more illustrious Sir Boris Crossley.” Sir George Mainwaring laughed when seeing the astonishment on my face.
“Boris and I served together in our embassy in Vienna, oh, a long time ago. He and I still keep in touch.”

 
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