Bianca (9 page)

Ilario recognized her, but said nothing. He and his helper picked up the litter and began the journey. As the streets were not yet crowded, they made excellent time. When they had exited through the city gates and reached the convent Ilario said, “You will want us to wait,
signora
?”

She nodded wordlessly, and then hurried through the small gate that opened to her knock. Less than an hour later, she exited, reentered the litter, and softly directed him back to the market square, where she paid him double the fee and hurried off. Coming forth from the church several minutes later, the hood no longer shielding her face, she walked slowly across the piazza to enter her house.

Fabia greeted her. “You made good time,
signora
,” she said lowly. “The beast has not arrived yet, and the master is just now getting up.”

Orianna nodded. “Is he aware I have been gone?” she asked.

“I believe so, for you slept in his bed last night,” Fabia responded, and then she chuckled. “His servingman said he awoke smiling and in good humor.”

“Tell the servants to feed him well, for he will want a full belly when he has to deal with that monster. Then come and help me change my gown.”

“Yes,
signora
,” Fabia said. “The young mistress was all right this morning?”

“She says she slept well for the first time in months, knowing she was safe,” Orianna said. Then she hurried off to her apartments. Seeing Francesca skulking about, she called to her second daughter and the girl came to her. “You will remain in the nursery rooms with your sisters and little brothers until I tell you that you may come out. I will warn the servants to watch for you. If you are seen outside your apartments, Francesca, I will personally whip you. Not your father, who is too softhearted, but I will myself wield the switch. Do you understand, my daughter?” The mother looked sternly at her young daughter.

“Is it about Bianca?” Francesca asked.

“Do you understand me?” Orianna repeated quietly.

“Yes,
Madre
,” came the reluctant reply.

“I will walk with you to your quarters.” And taking Francesca’s hand, the mother led the daughter to where she needed to be. Stepping into the nursery of her house, she instructed the three nursemaids as to her wishes, with a special admonishment to Francesca’s servant. “If she is caught outside of this room, you will receive a whipping too,” she warned the woman, who adored and indulged her charge.

“Yes,
signora
,” the woman said, “but sometimes the child can be so persuasive.”

“When you feel yourself yielding,” Orianna said with a small amused smile touching her lips, “consider the cut of the switch on your plump bottom.”

“Yes,
signora
!”

“Good! It is important that the household remain silent,” she said, giving them her final word. Then she left the nursery quarters of her home to go to her own apartments, where Fabia was already awaiting her.

The servingwoman had laid out three gowns for her mistress’s approval.

“The black makes me look sallow and weak,” Orianna remarked. “The burgundy is too festive for this occasion. I like the medium blue, but it is too beautifully adorned. Find me a simple gown that is elegant but will not imply that his visit to my house is an honor.”

“You have a dark brown velvet that is plain. The embroidery along the neckline is black,” Fabia said. “It makes you appear stern, and perhaps even a bit older than you are. With the gold crucifix your father sent you last year to commemorate your natal day, it will give you an imposing appearance.”

“Yes, that will do,” Orianna agreed.

When Fabia finished dressing her mistress and arranging her auburn hair into an elegant chignon, she helped her lady fasten the crucifix about her neck. Then stepping back, she nodded. “It is perfect,
signora
.”

A rap sounded at the bedchamber door, and Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo stepped into the room. He was garbed as soberly as his wife, but in black. He nodded, pleased by her appearance. Then he held out his hand to her. “Come,
cara mia
. He is here and awaits us in my library.”

She took his hand and together they went to meet Sebastiano Rovere.

Chapter 5

W
hen they entered the room where he was standing, he could see they were dressed for battle.
Well,
Sebastiano Rovere thought
, the law is on my side. I will have their daughter back in my house by noon today. I will beat her well for this breach of wifely trust. Then she will take my cock before she takes that of my little donkey. Nudara says the creature is quite proficient and as skilled as any man.
He glared at the Pietro d’Angelos. “Where is my wife?” he demanded.

“I have absolutely no idea,” the silk merchant said quietly.

Rovere’s face turned red with his anger. “I doubt your duplicitous wife can claim the same ignorance.” He turned to Orianna. “Where is my wife, you Venetian harridan?”

“Safe,” Orianna replied. “Safe, where you can no longer harm her with your disgusting perversions and bad breath.”

“I have the law behind my request,” he told her through gritted teeth.

“Then use the law to gain what you want,” Orianna said. “But if you do, be certain that the Church will be told of your outrageous depravity; of what you did to my innocent child on her wedding night. I doubt even the law will condone your behavior when they learn how low you have sunk in your immorality to put your younger son to my daughter as if you were breeding a pair of animals,” she warned him.

“Do not threaten me with the Church,
signora
,” he said. “Need I remind you that my kinsman is Cardinal Rovere? I will deny before him everything your daughter has said of me. The Church will not believe the hysterical ravings of a young woman over a man of my reputation. Women are known to lie more times than not.”

“If a man’s word is so sacrosanct,” Orianna said, “why did you permit your son to dispose of a dead courtesan rather than simply leaving her to be found in her bed? If your son told you the truth,
signore
, and the woman simply expired of excess, there would have been no marks of violence on her body to say otherwise. Once Stefano and our Marco came to you and told you what had happened, you became as complicit in their actions as if you had been involved personally. I do not believe that is proper behavior for a man of the court, is it?”

“Is it your habit to let a woman speak for you, Pietro d’Angelo?” Rovere demanded angrily. The bitch was far too clever.

Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo almost felt sorry for his son-in-law. He knew better than most that if her sex had not relegated her to the role of wife and mother, Orianna could have ruled Venice and Florence both. “I am a man of few words, Rovere,” he said drily. “My wife, however, makes an interesting point.”

“You will give Bianca an annulment,” Orianna told their guest.

“On what grounds?” Rovere demanded angrily. “I have used your daughter well these past months. And you cannot claim I am at fault! I am known for my passion, and for my prowess. There isn’t a courtesan in Florence who would say otherwise,” he bragged with a smug smirk.

“Is the world privy to your marriage bed?” Orianna wanted to know. “You will say that Bianca has denied your husband’s rights. That she has said she will give you no children. The Church will be satisfied, and our generous gifts will grease the way. There need be no shame upon you,
signore
. You do not love Bianca, and certainly she holds no love for you. You have had what you wanted of her. Now let her go.”

“She will wed again, have children, and give lie to such charges,” Rovere said. “It is then that people will talk, and I shall be made to look the fool.”

“You have spoiled my daughter for marriage,” Orianna said. “It is unlikely she will wed again but for love, and if she did it would not be in Florence. When the annulment is granted, she will go to live with one of my sisters. She will be gone from this city, and its excesses.”

“You have figured this all out to suit your purposes,
signora
, but Bianca is
mine
. I will not let her go. You will return her to me, and she will live in my palazzo until she dies there,” Rovere snarled at Orianna.

It was then that Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo spoke in a quiet but commanding voice. “My eldest daughter will never be returned to you, Rovere. If you would now accuse my son, Marco, of that courtesan’s death, know that I will accuse Stefano. Your eldest son is now married into a good family. I am told his wife is expecting her first child. Will you expose a foolish and youthful indiscretion for the sole purpose of forcing an unwilling woman back into your bed?

“I must take a certain amount of blame for this travesty, for I should not have allowed the marriage between you and my daughter to take place at all. My wife begged me to reconsider, but I was not thinking clearly, and could only see misfortune if I did not acquiesce to your demand. I was wrong, and Bianca has paid for my error in judgment. I will not allow her to be further abused. Grant her an annulment, and let us be done.”

“Never!”
Sebastiano Rovere spat. “I will find her! It matters not where you have hidden her. I will find her! You cannot keep her from me. She is my wife.
Mine!
I will be certain she pays for her duplicity towards me. Her punishment will be slow, and it will be painful. I will break her proud spirit, and she will never again defy me.”

The more he spoke, the darker his face became with his rage. There was spittle at the corners of his lips as his voice rose until he was shouting at them.

“You are a fool,
signore
,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said. Then he called for his servants to remove the furious man from his home. “Put him out in the street where he belongs. He is not to be admitted to this house ever again.”

Two strong servingmen literally dragged Sebastiano Rovere from the palazzo. Having lost all sense of dignity in his outrage, the man struggled and cursed at them. They in turn were not inclined to treat him gently or with respect. One of the men in fact put a boot to Rovere’s behind, giving him a final hard shove out the front door of the palazzo, where Rovere sprawled facedown on the cobbles.

He scrambled up quickly, shouting and shaking a fist. “You will regret this, Pietro d’Angelo! I will have my revenge on you and your family! See if I don’t!”

They did not hear him inside the palazzo, for the walls of the building were several feet thick. After Rovere had been dragged shouting from the chamber where they had all been, Orianna collapsed into a chair, her face in her hands. Her husband heard a sob, but only one, and after a moment or two she uncovered her beautiful face. Her look was determined. Giovanni had seen that look several times over the course of their marriage. It meant she was ready to do battle, and she would not lose.

“He is a mad dog,” Orianna said quietly. “He should be put out of his misery, as a mad dog would.”

“Under the circumstances, the crime would be laid at our door,” her husband told her in practical tones. “There is another way, I am certain, and we will find it,
cara mia.
”

“He has no trade to ruin,” Orianna replied. “Every judge and lawyer in Florence accepts bribes. It is considered commonplace to keep the business of the law efficient. It is the worst of his vices that we need to expose to the light of day.”

“There are plenty of rumors,” Giovanni remarked, “but he has been reasonably discreet. So much so that even the Church looks the other way.”

“We cannot allow him to regain custody of Bianca,” Orianna said. “And now with his intransigence, none from this household may go to her, for he will already have put a watch on our house.”

“Did you not go early this morning?” her husband asked, smiling.

“Gio! How could you know that?”

“Because,
cara
, I know you. And did you really think that after the wonderful night we spent together I would not miss you the moment you left my bed?”

She laughed. “I went to an early Mass, and afterwards spoke with Father Bonamico. He suggested I use the church’s little back garden gate as my means of coming and going,” Orianna explained to Giovanni.

“You cannot go again,” he said. “The danger is too great for Bianca.”

“I know,” she agreed, “and so I told Bianca. I have spoken with Reverend Mother Baptista. Bianca will be kept within the convent walls. Even if Rovere eventually learns where she is, he will not break the laws of sanctuary.”

Giovanni nodded. “I concur,” he replied to his wife. “We must find another place for her, far from the city,
cara
. For now, however, she must remain where she is. Our opportunity will come if we are patient.”

The Pietro d’Angelos shortly afterwards departed Florence for their villa in the Tuscan countryside. It was cooler, and the children had more space to run free in the long, sunny days. They knew that Sebastiano Rovere had set a watch on their summer home. Marco, who remained behind to oversee his father’s warehouses, sent them any news of their son-in-law. His guilt had been great upon learning of his sister’s trials.

In the early autumn, the family returned to the city just as a great scandal involving Rovere broke open, giving them the opportunity to move Bianca from Santa Maria del Fiore to a new hiding place many miles from Florence. The lawyer had given a large party for a number of the city’s prominent men. There had been rumors for weeks about some new perversion Rovere had found, and the guests came eager to partake of whatever it might be, for the lawyer was known for his originality.

No one was aware that the lawyer’s bride had fled his house. As highborn Florentine ladies were rarely observed outside their homes, Bianca’s flight had not become public knowledge; and she would certainly not be present, or even seen by her husband’s guests, at such a gathering as they were planning to attend.

The night after what could only be called an orgy of spectacular proportions, the lawyer was arrested on a complaint brought against him by the head of the Arte dei Medici, Speziali e Merciai. His sixteen-year-old niece had been kidnapped the previous afternoon as she left his apothecary shop to bring a headache powder to her widowed mother, who lived in the house next to the shop. The distance was not more than half a dozen steps, but two villains had grabbed the girl and made off with her. She had been found battered, bruised, and barely conscious on the banks of the River Arno early the following morning by a fisherman. With great effort, the girl had cried out for her uncle.

Wrapping the naked girl in a blanket, the fisherman carried her to the apothecary, where, after drinking some wine with strengthening herbs, she told him her story.

The two men who had taken her had covered her head with a cloth so she could not see and brought her to a house. She was then taken away by a beautiful olive-skinned woman to be bathed and perfumed. They fed her wine, which made her feel strange. The woman was kind to her, and let the girl pat her pet, a tiny gray donkey. But then the woman brought her into a large chamber filled with men in fine robes, most with goblets in their hands, some already half drunk.

They howled with delight to see the naked girl. When they had finished with her, she was dragged from the chamber, taken from the house, and dumped on the riverbank, where she had been found.

Because she had heard his name and had seen his face, the unfortunate girl was able to identify her kidnapper. They carried her to his palazzo, and she identified it as the house from which she was taken after her shame. They brought five men before her, and she pointed to Sebastiano Rovere. He was immediately arrested and jailed, along with the two servingmen who had taken the girl and had been the first to rape her. The city was abuzz with the shameful scandal of an innocent maiden being so abused.

“This is our opportunity to get Bianca to safety,” Giovanni told his wife.

“He will buy his way out of this difficulty,” Orianna replied.

“Aye, he will,” her husband agreed, “but not easily, or too soon, which is why we must act quickly,
cara
.”

“What of those watching the house?” she wanted to know.

“They have hardly been discreet. I know where they are, and they shall be removed so we have time to do what must be done,” he answered her. “I will send Georgio to Santa Maria del Fiore to tell Reverend Mother Baptista to see that Agata and Bianca are ready to leave in another day.” Georgio was the Pietro d’Angelos’ second son.

“So soon?” Orianna asked.

“The sooner the better,
cara
. She will be safe at Villa Luce Stellare,” Giovanni replied. “Very few people know of its existence. It was part of my mother’s dower, but she rarely left Florence, and she preferred the countryside to the seaside. These past weeks I have had it opened up and cleaned so Bianca might be comfortable. I have employed local folk to serve her, and they but await her arrival,” he told his wife. Then he called a servant and said, “Find Georgio, and say to him that his father says it is time.”

“Yes, master,” the woman said, hurrying off.

Two days later, word spread across the city that the victim of Sebastiano Rovere’s perversion had died from the excesses that had been forced upon her. The imprisoned lawyer demanded his release, as there was no longer a witness against him. He was supported by the members of his own guild, the Arte dei Giudici e Notai. But the Arte dei Medici, Speziali e Merciai, the apothecaries and doctors, stood with their leader and his family. The girl’s testimony had already been taken by the Church and recorded. They wanted murder added to the charges of kidnapping and rape.

Rovere testified that he had sent his men to find him a willing whore who would be paid for her services. His two servants, however, eager to avoid further torture, said he had told them to find a young maid, a virgin if they could. He had promised them they would get to have the girl’s virginity so that when she entertained his guests, she would be free of any impediment to their pleasure. The men knew the apothecary had a niece upon whom he doted. She was sure to be a virgin, and she had been.

Rovere said the girl had no value to her family. They would be fortunate to find a husband for her, as she had little to recommend her. Highly insulted, the apothecary declared his niece was prettier than most, and he had already had several inquiries from fathers looking for a good wife for their sons. He said he had been training her, as she was a naturally skilled herbalist. She also cared for her widowed, ailing mother. Her family had loved her. Had it not been for Sebastiano Rovere’s debauchery, the girl would have lived a good life. The apothecary, his guild standing behind him, wanted justice.