Bianca (20 page)

“Why does she hate me and not you?” Orianna asked him afterwards. “It was your decision, not mine, that married her to Rovere. I protected her for as long as I could. And when I learned of the abuse she was suffering, I took her from Rovere’s palazzo and hid her. It was I who begged my father to help us intercede in the matter of an annulment. Yet she hates me.
Me!
”

“You were her friend as well as her mother,” Orianna’s husband explained. “She knows you were the guiding force that took her from the man she loves. Do you not consider that a great betrayal, wife? Our daughter does.”

“But, Gio, this prince is an infidel!” Orianna wailed.

“And the man you loved before you were wed to me was married to another,
cara mia
. That did not stop you from loving him, or trysting with him in defiance of your family. You have never ceased loving this man, although you were required to wed me, yet you have been an exemplary wife to me. So do not, I beg you, be surprised at our daughter’s behavior over her prince. Like you, she will give her heart once, and she has done so.”

“Would you allow this foreigner to carry her off?” Orianna demanded. Although she had always known her husband was aware of her youthful passion, he had never until this moment spoken of it. It made her uncomfortable to hear him voice her girlish indiscretions aloud, to understand that he knew her so very well when all she realized she knew of him was that he had been indulging her all these years.

“Prince Amir is an infidel,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said quietly. “Any serious or permanent liaison between him and Bianca is unthinkable. I do not disagree with you, Orianna, but I also believe that Bianca will recover more fully away from the mother she believes betrayed her. And she will have Francesca for company. Despite the four years difference in their ages, they always get on well. Her younger sister will divert her.”

“They have not seen each other since Bianca married Rovere,” Orianna pointed out. “Bianca is already eighteen, and Francesca thirteen. My father writes that he believes she will be ready for marriage in another year. He will choose the right man for her, you may be certain, for he adores her. Now, however, he will also have to seek a husband for Bianca. Still”—and Orianna laughed—“Papa does enjoy ruling his little world. Bianca will not be able to get around him easily. He did have five daughters himself.”

“Then you agree that Bianca should go to Venice,” the silk merchant said.

“Yes!” his wife replied. “The sooner, the better, for I will admit to you, husband, that my nerves are in shreds from dealing with her.”

By chance, Agata spotted Krikor in the small market that catered to scent makers near the Ponte Vecchio. She made her way through the crowds until she was standing next to him. “Do not turn your head, Krikor. It is Agata. Tell your master that the
signora
is being sent to her grandfather in Venice soon. He is Prince Alessandro Venier,” Agata murmured in a low voice.

“Tell your mistress that a troop of the sultan’s Janissaries arrived today. We leave for Istanbul tomorrow,” Krikor replied, and then he moved away from her.

Agata made a small purchase of a carved ivory bottle filled with attar of roses, and then hurried home so she might report her news to Bianca.

“Perhaps he will take us on the road to Venice,” Bianca said hopefully.

“No, that is unlikely,” the practical Agata said. “The Janissaries will travel quickly with the prince, for they will want to bring him to the sultan as swiftly as possible. But perhaps he will find you in Venice. I told Krikor your grandfather’s name, and he will tell the prince. He has promised that he would find you, mistress, and he will. Will you, however, want to go with him then?”

“Yes!” Bianca said. “I will never cease to love him. My heart is not a fickle one.” And then she began to consider the road that Amir and his escort would traverse come the morrow. They would certainly begin by taking the Venice road, although they were unlikely to go to Venice. They would go early, of course, and if she was fortunate and quick enough, she might at least get to see him pass by.

She didn’t tell Agata. Her servingwoman was loyal and loved her mistress, but she was likely to discourage such an adventure. Instead she sought out her younger brother Georgio. “I know you are responsible for Rovere finding me,” she said without any preamble. “You owe me a debt for that, little brother.”

“I had no choice in the matter,” her sibling said, flushing with his guilty shame.

“I know the man who threatened you. You were right to be afraid of him, but that does not erase your debt to me,” Bianca said in a hard voice.

“What do you want from me?” Georgio asked her.

“Two things. Your company early tomorrow, and your silence about it,” Bianca said to him.

“Will it distress our mother?” the boy asked her.

“Only if she knows, but you will not tell her, Georgio, for if you do, I will revenge myself upon you in a manner you would not like,” Bianca threatened.

“Oh, very well,” the boy conceded. “Where do you want to go?”

“Before dawn to the gate leading to the Venice road,” Bianca said. “There is something there I would see, and when I have I will return home.”

“You swear it?” he asked her.

“You have my word, Brother,” she said.

“And my silence?” he inquired.

“You will understand tomorrow,” Bianca told him.

“And all debts between us are satisfied if I do this?” he said.

“Yes,” she promised him.

“How early?” he wanted to know.

“Two hours before the dawn, for we must walk the city to reach there,” Bianca replied. “I suspect the early streets could prove dangerous.”

“They could, but if you dress discreetly we will not attract any attention,” he told her. “Do you have a dark cloak with a hood, Sister?”

“I do, and I will wear it,” Bianca said.

“Wear sturdy shoes, for the streets can be dirty and wet at an early hour,” he advised his sister. “You’ll destroy a pair of silk slippers if you wear such on your feet.”

“I’ll wear my boots,” she replied.

“The trick to getting in and out of the house at that hour without attracting attention is to be quick, and to be stealthy. I’ll meet you at the front door, Bianca.”

“I’ll be there before you, Georgio,” she told him. “Do not be late.”

He laughed. “Why didn’t you ask Marco?” he wondered.

“The debt Marco owes me can never be repaid,” Bianca replied to his query. “He has suffered over it, and I would not give him any more pain than he gives himself,” she explained to her younger brother.

He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

There! It was done. If she was fortunate, she would get a passing glimpse of Amir as he departed Florence. She needed to see that he was unharmed. She slept poorly, rising carefully and quietly so as not to disturb Agata, who lay upon her trundle snoring. She dressed quickly in a simple dark gown, and pulled on her boots. Then, gathering up her cloak, she slipped from the bedchamber. She had not bothered to undo her plait and brush her hair, for fear of awakening her servingwoman.

Bianca crept down the stairs of the house, careful to avoid the two steps that creaked when trod upon. She hurried to the front door to await her brother. There was a single lamp burning in the entry rotunda. Other than that the dark silence engulfed her. On a stool by the door, the doorkeeper slept heavily. She stepped back into the shadows as she heard a soft footfall on the stairs.

Georgio quickly came into view, and Bianca stepped forward. He said nothing, instead opening the door of the house just enough for them to slip through. The doorkeeper never even stirred. Bianca suspected her brother had drugged the unsuspecting servant, and found she was grateful. He took her hand and together they began walking. The streets were dark and Bianca realized that without her younger brother leading her she could never have found her way. Several times her foot struck some object and she stumbled, but Georgio kept her from falling. Twice she felt something—a rat she imagined, shuddering—run over her boot. The air for the most part was damp with a faint hint of rot. But the sky was growing lighter as they hurried along.

“We’re almost there,” Georgio said softly. “What do you want to do when we finally get there, Sister?”

“I would simply stand by the side of the road,” Bianca said to him.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

“You will see,” she said to him.

They reached the city gate to the Venice road. No one had gone through it yet, for the gatekeepers were just now removing the great bar that helped to keep the gate closed. They slowly opened the gate and a small line of traffic made up of vendors carrying fruit, vegetables, meat, poultry, and dairy products, along with flower sellers and others, began to slowly file into the city on their way to the various markets and other places of business.

Suddenly Bianca’s ears caught the sound of many horses coming at a trot. She flung back her hood as the troop of Janissaries came into view. They were distinguished from other soldiers by their red and green garments, and the glossy brown horses they rode. From the pommels of their saddles hung metal-tipped whips that, when necessary, they used to disburse crowds. There was no need for that this morning. Because of the traffic coming from the opposite direction, they slowed their horses to a walk to avoid any accidents with the Florentine populace. Foreigners must be careful.

She saw him on his great gray stallion in the middle of the group. Her heart contracted with joy, for he looked healthy and well. Darius walked by his master’s side. It was the dog who spotted Bianca, and barking, ran to her. Amir looked in the direction his hound had run. His deep blue eyes widened with a mixture of joy and pain.

Bianca put her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and flung her hand in his direction. His gloved hand reached up to catch her kiss, his fingers closing over it, then opening to press against his heart. Bianca’s eyes filled with tears as she sent Darius back to his master.

Then she heard him call out, “I will find you, beloved!”

“
Amore mio!
I love you!”
Bianca called back to him. Their eyes met briefly.

The troop of Janissaries suddenly moved on more quickly as the traffic lightened, allowing for their swifter passage. Bianca stood for a long moment watching them go. He still loved her. It was all that mattered to her. She could go to Venice knowing that by the time they found a suitable man to wed her, he would come for her. They would be together forever. Nothing would part them again.

“Let us go home now, Georgio,” she said to her brother, who had silently and sympathetically watched all that had transpired with his sister.

“That was your prince,” her sibling said.

“Yes,” Bianca replied. “That was my prince.”

“It will be full light when we get back home,” Georgio said. “We had better go to Mass and pretend we only went out for that.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Did you drug the doorkeeper?”

He nodded. “He has a weakness for sweet wine. I do it all the time when I want to get out and go whoring. Marco taught me that neat little trick and one day I will pass it on to Luca.” He chuckled.

Bianca laughed. “Our poor mother,” she said. “Here she believes she is in full charge of all of her children, and she actually has little authority at all.”

“Please stop torturing her, Bianca,” Georgio said. “She only does what she does because she loves her family.”

“Did you know she was in love with an unsuitable man before she was wed to our father, little brother? I think she did not want me to have Amir because she could not have her true love,” Bianca told her brother. “I believe even if he had not been an infidel she would have found some excuse to separate us.”

“If that is so,” Georgio remarked, “then perhaps you should be kinder to her, Sister. She has been a good wife to our father, and a good mother to her children. Yet she is unhappy, and still loves another man. I find that very sad, don’t you?”

“You sound like a philosopher,” Bianca teased, heeding the householder’s warning and dodging the contents of a night jar that were being hurled from a window above. “Or perhaps even a priest.”

“I am considering the priesthood,” Georgio admitted to his eldest sister. “Marco is Father’s heir, and he is a worthy one. Luca is a little roughneck savage, and I think he will become a soldier one day. I am a thinker, and I seem to feel the pain of others. I want to ease that pain. For instance, I did not know what it was you planned to do this morning, but I sensed that you very much needed to do it, which was why I agreed to accompany you. Not just because of the debt I owed you, Bianca, but because I can feel your unhappiness even when you smile these days. This prince you love may not be suitable in the eyes of our society, but I believe you will never be happy unless you are with him, Sister.”

“Do not be a priest, Georgio,” Bianca said. “Your heart is too good, and I do not believe that you can live with all the rules the Church sets forth. To dismiss a good man because he does not worship as we do does not seem right to me. Does it to you?”

“No,” Georgio agreed, “it does not, Bianca. But could I not teach humanity kindness within the tradition of our faith?”

“They would try you for a heretic,” Bianca said cynically.

They reached their own piazza just as dawn was breaking, and entered the church for the earliest Mass. Afterwards they walked back across the square to the palazzo and entered the house, smiling at the doorkeeper, who still looked sleepy but was awake.

“I did not see you go out, young master,
signora
,” he said nervously.

“A bit too much of your sweet wine last night, Aldo,” Georgio teased the doorkeeper. “We won’t tell. My sister and I went to early Mass together. Father Silvio said Mass this morning. I think old Bonamico grows too old for such an early hour.”

The doorkeeper chuckled.

“You do that too easily,” Bianca said, smiling at her younger sibling, “but then our father says you are the one with the charm. Thank you, Georgio, for helping me.” She felt better now than she had in weeks. Seeing Amir had given her new courage and strength now that they were preparing to send her to Venice. And Venice was closer to Istanbul than was Florence. Did her parents not realize they were helping her to rejoin her lover rather than keeping them apart?