The Wind Dancer (42 page)

"Stop." He was smiling faintly. "You'll have to give me many sons to work in my
shipyard to make it flourish enough to provide you with all those riches."

She smiled back at him. "That was my intention. One to be master of the castle, one to
send exploring to distant lands, one to help you in the family business. I think we should
have at least five children if that would be of no bother to you. Shall we--"

"Lord Andreas, you honor me with your presence." Basala was hurrying toward them, a
warm smile on his thin, intelligent face as he struggled into his leather jerkin. "May I
express my regret at your loss? God has not been kind to you of late. When your man
arrived here with the news of the burning of Mandara"--he shook his head--"what a
blow to you, my lord."

Lion nodded. "You issued them the sum Lorenzo requested?"

Basala nodded. "But there is not much left in the coffers." He hesitated. "Have you
decided what you'll do here? I do not wish to hurry you, but the guilds have been most
insistent I either release their members or put them to work again."

"We will talk of that later." Lion gestured to Sanchia. "You remember Madonna Sanchia.
As you can see, she's once more in dire need of clothing. Can your good wife find
something for her to wear?"

"If she has nothing herself, I'm sure she can persuade the master carpenter's wife to
accommodate the madonna."

"That would be most generous of her," Sanchia said. "I understand your wife furnished
me with two gowns when we left for Genoa. I'm sorry I was too ill to thank her at that
time."

"She was glad to be of help and my lord was most generous. He gave her thrice their
value." Basala studied Sanchia. "May I say you look considerably more robust than you
did then? You were so pale and wan I thought you'd surely die before you reached
Genoa. Is your hand healed?"

"Entirely, except for a slight stiffness in one of the fingers."

"But it must have been a long and terrible illness to turn that pretty hair white. The same
thing happened to my second cousin who underwent--"

"White?"

"Madonna Sanchia needs to bathe and rest, then break her fast," Lion said quickly as his
hand grasped Sanchia's arm and urged her forward. "If you please, Messer Basala."

"Of course, of course. This way. I believe my wife is already heating water for a bath for
Messer Vasaro." The shipwright hurriedly led them toward the house.

"White?" Sanchia asked in bewilderment. "What did he mean?"

"It doesn't matter, cara. It only makes you more beautiful."

Then they were in the house and Sanchia was meeting the shipwright's cheerful, vigorous
wife, Lisa. It was not until Lisa Basala led Sanchia to a small antechamber for her bath
and left to go to the kitchen to heat more water that Sanchia's question was fully
answered.

She stood before a highly polished oval of brass and gazed at her reflection with
wondering eyes. The face in the mirror was the same face she had always known,
smooth, unlined, the face of a woman still in her sixteenth year. It was the hair framing
her face that was changed. A single lock of startling white shone against the dark auburn
of the hair brushed back from her left temple.

So the Medusa had not left her untouched after all.

"I told you it only made you more beautiful." Lion stood in the doorway behind her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Women are sometimes strange about such things. I didn't want to disturb you. It wasn't
important."

She reached up to touch the shining white streak. "Another scar."

"No." He moved behind her and pressed his lips to her left temple with the same infinite
gentleness he had displayed toward her since she had awakened in the winery. "A
medallion of courage." Then he was gone, leaving her to gaze at the familiar stranger.

Lion and Lorenzo were deep in conversation when she entered the salon two hours later
but broke off immediately when they saw her.

"That shade of blue is entrancing on you, but I admit I do miss your barbaric blanket,"
Lorenzo said as he rose to his feet. "Gowns are rather ordinary, are they not?"

"Basala and his wife will return shortly and we will have dinner," Lion said. "I sent him
to make a few arrangements, and his wife went to the
mercato
to see about having shoes
made for you."

Sanchia came forward and stood before them. "Those 'arrangements' wouldn't be
concerned with purchasing passage for me on the first ship to Marseilles?"

Lion stiffened. "And if they are?"

"I would not go." She held up her hand to stop his protests. "Do you think me so simple I
wouldn't guess your plan? You intend to whisk me off to a place where you think I'll be
safe while you both go after Damari. I would have had to be blind and deaf not to notice
the two of you whispering and plotting on the way here from Mandara."

"We didn't want to disturb you," Lion said. "You said yourself you wanted peace."

"But not until I've earned it."

"Santa Maria, who could have earned it more than you? What you went through at
Mandara should have earned you a lifetime of peace."

"Not while Damari's alive."

"Lorenzo and I will attend to--"

"No." Sanchia met his gaze. "After Solinari I just wanted to forget what Damari had done
to me, but for what happened at Mandara there can be neither forgiveness nor
forgetfulness."

"
Cristo
, Sanchia. I will not involve you again with that bastard."

"Then I'll involve myself," she said fiercely. "You forget I was there. I have memories
that will be with me all my life and there must be justice. I will not be able to bear to
remember what he did unless I can remember he was justly punished and I had a part in
seeing to his punishment. Do you realize what he did to Piero? He was only six years old
and--"

"Shh, we know,
cara
. We know."

"And Caterina. She didn't deserve to die. None of them deserved to die."

"She's right," Lorenzo said abruptly. "She's entitled to her part in this, Lion."

"And is she entitled to the danger? You saw what happened to her at Solinari and then we
had ducats aplenty to pave our way. Now we only have our wits against Damari and his
condotti."

"Then they'd better be exceedingly sharp wits." Lorenzo moved over to the window to
stand looking out at the ruined hulls in the shipyard. "And we obviously need all the help
we can muster. If you won't take her, then I will."

Lion made a violent motion with his hand. "Damn you, Lorenzo, what if I--" He broke
off as if afraid to speak the thought gripping his mind.

"What if you lose her, too? Don't worry. You're so besotted with Sanchia that you'd
probably die gloriously defending her and therefore have no time for foolish regrets."

Sanchia gazed at Lorenzo blankly and then began to laugh. The laughter was tentative,
rusty, but still it was laughter and she felt the knot of anger and sorrow within her
miraculously loosen. "That has all the macabre logic I would expect of you, Lorenzo."

"I am always logical."

"I don't like it." Lion shook his head wearily. "But I obviously can't move either of you."

"It's very wise of you to surrender, for you may well need Sanchia." Lorenzo turned away
from the window. "Because I won't be able to help you with Damari."

Lion's gaze narrowed on his face. "That is your choice, of course."

"You think I back away from the task?" Lorenzo shook his head. "But you speak only of
Damari. You've forgotten that he wouldn't have been able to do what he did if he hadn't
had the approval and support of Borgia and the pope. Damari was the sword, but the
Borgias were the ones who wielded it. In my eyes it's Cesare and Alexander who bear the
brunt of the blame."

"Certainly a good portion of the blame."

"And consider this, throughout his entire career Cesare Borgia has adopted whatever
methods he found at hand to conquer the cities in his path. The ploy Damari used to
defeat Mandara had the advantages of economy and complete devastation. Who is to say
Borgia will not choose to use the plague again if the need arises?"

"Dear God," Sanchia whispered.

"Exactly. If justice is to be done, it must be done to all three." Lorenzo smiled. "And, as
I'm the most qualified for the task, I'll volunteer to be the dispenser of justice to the noble
house of Borgia."

Sanchia and Lion gazed at him in astonishment.

"You would kill the pope?" Sanchia whispered.

"Do you not believe he deserves it? He's totally corrupt, a man who has lusted for power
his whole life long. Did he not buy the papacy with blood and ducats? Does he not have
the blood of any number of people on his hands?"

"No one is saying the world would not be better off without him." Lion hesitated. "But,
Dio, it would be hazardous, if not impossible. Both Borgias are surrounded by guards at
all times. How would you manage it?"

"I have no idea. Something will come to me. I'm most ingenious when offered a
challenge of this magnitude." Lorenzo paused. "But you may be sure their deaths will not
be easy."

He had asked if Caterina's death had been easy, Sanchia remembered, and she had told
him that none of the deaths at Mandara had been easy.

"So Damari is mine," Lion said.

"And Sanchia's. Don't be selfish, Lion." Lorenzo turned toward the door. "I'm going to
Cesena to make a few inquiries regarding the whereabouts of Duke Valentino. I should
be back in a few days. Will you still be here?"

Lion nodded. "I've decided to sell the shipyard to Basala and keep only the one in
Marseilles. It will take that long to complete the transaction."

Sanchia looked at him in surprise. "You're leaving Italy?"

"
We're
leaving Italy. There's nothing here for us now. I told you once that Mandara was
my country." He shrugged. "And now there is no more Mandara."

Lorenzo nodded. "It's best to put Mandara behind you." He opened the door. "We'll talk
more when I return."

Lorenzo returned on the evening of the third day as he had promised.

"Borgia has left for Rome," he announced. "He departed almost immediately after he was
paid a visit by Damari. The good duke was said to be in excellent spirits, so it's safe to
assume that he journeyed to his father with the Wind Dancer."

"And Damari?" Lion asked.

"He was planning on returning to Solinari 'to dispose of Andreas at leisure,' " Sanchia
quoted bitterly.

"But he won't stay there long. It will worry him that I haven't launched an attack on
Solinari, and he'll need to know if I've spread the disease so he can take steps to protect
the Borgias. He'll probably come here to Pisa first." Lion frowned. "And bring enough
men to make sure we have no chance to resist him."

"Then I believe it's time to complete our plans," Lorenzo said with a faint smile.

Lion nodded. "And to put them into motion."

The next morning Lorenzo left Pisa for Rome.

The following day Lion and Sanchia departed for Florence.

It felt very strange to Sanchia to be riding through the same Porto San Friano from which
she had departed those many months ago. Yet it had not actually been so long, she
realized with a slight sense of shock. They had left Florence through this gate in early
March and it was now only late July. It seemed a lifetime since Lion had come to
Giovanni's shop for that frightened, nervous child.

She was thinking of that other Sanchia as if she were some other person entirely, she
thought sadly. Well, and so she was.

"You're very quiet." Lion asked, "Are you weary?"

Anxiety threaded his voice and Sanchia tried to smother the impatience it aroused in her.
His cosseting at first had brought her a sense of security and comfort she had badly
needed, but now that she was stronger it was unbearable. "I was thinking about how
many things have happened since I left Florence. I'm no longer the same person."

He flinched. "Who would not change after the punishment I've dealt you?"

"You meant me no harm."

"That didn't stop harm from coming to you. I am to blame."

Sanchia sucked in her breath. Lion's pampering, the way he avoided touching her as if
she were one of the holy saints instead of a woman he wanted, all stemmed from his
sense of blame. "Who knows what would have happened to me if I had stayed here?" she
asked softly. "It could have been as bad. No place is entirely safe."

"If I hadn't taken you away, you would never have known Damari."

"But there was already a Caprino in my life."

"It's not the same."

Dio
, the man was stubborn. It would obviously take more than words to change his mind.
"Do you think Giulia will help us?"

"We'll find out shortly. Her casais--" He broke off with the sharp intake of breath of a
man struck an unexpected blow.

Sanchia looked at him in alarm. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just forgot about the doors." Lion reined in and sat looking at the magnificent
bronze doors of the baptistery of the cathedral of Florence, his eyes glittering with
sudden moisture. "Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise. When Marco and I were boys my father
brought us to Florence whenever he visited Lorenzo de' Medici. My father insisted I go
with him to the palace to learn the ways of dealing with princes, but he permitted Marco
to run free. Marco was giddy with joy. He was drunk with the art of Michelozzi and the
ideas of Alberti, the beautiful statues and the paintings." He stopped, unable to go on for
a moment. "And most of all he loved those bronze doors. He'd get up before daybreak so
he could see the first light of dawn strike them, he'd go four streets out of his way to
catch a glimpse of them. Once he said to me, 'Lion, if I could sculpt something as
beautiful as those doors I'd never ask for heaven. I'd stand outside all day long and ask
everyone who passed, Did you see them? Did you really look at them?' "