Silk Merchant's Daughters: Bianca Part 6

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 circ.u.mstances, 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 Ma.s.s, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 wh.o.r.e 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.

The day before Rovere's victim died, and while he lingered in prison, Bianca was moved from Santa Maria del Fiore many miles from the city of Florence to a small coastal villa with the silly yet charming name of Luce Stellare, which simply meant "Starry." Her parents came to bid her farewell, but they did not go with her. Even though Rovere was imprisoned for the moment, and Giovanni had removed the minions he had sent to watch their palazzo, the Pietro d'Angelos would draw no attention to themselves by leaving the city. Bianca traveled by horseback with Agata, surrounded by a group of men-at-arms sent by her grandfather in Venice. There was no one to return to Florence and gossip. Every precaution had been taken to keep her safe.

She wept, knowing she would not see her family for some time. "Will you ever be able to come to me, Madre?" she asked Orianna.

"Not until Rovere either grants you an annulment, or is dead" was the reply. "We can take no chances in him finding you, my daughter. Every day he does not have you in his clutches, his anger and need for revenge against you grow."

Bianca nodded. "I understand," she said sadly, and she did. She had convinced her husband that she was finally becoming his willing wh.o.r.e. Now he knew she had done it to gain a victory and escape him. He would not be merciful. "I would kill myself before I allowed him possession of me again," she told her parents.

"It should not come to that," her father told her. "No one knows of my mother's villa, not even your brothers. You will live peacefully, and be safe there."

It had been so difficult to see them go. Ever cautious, they had come and departed under the cover of darkness in the hours before the dawn. She and Agata had left immediately afterwards, bidding Reverend Mother Baptista farewell, giving her their thanks for tendering them her protection.

"I will pray for you each day, Bianca, my child," the nun said. "The blessed Mother will protect you, I know."

Then they were absorbed into the middle of an armed and mounted troop of hors.e.m.e.n to begin the journey to the coast. The silk merchant had instructed the captain of the guard not to allow Bianca to be seen if he could avoid it. They were not to stop in any public place. Consequently, a small pavilion was set up for the two women when they stopped for the night. The captain himself brought them supper and made certain that the charcoal brazier that heated the tent was properly lit.

"We should reach the seacoast by tomorrow, madonna," he told Bianca. "There will be no need for you to spend another night in the wild. Your grandfather would not be pleased with these arrangements at all."

Bianca could not help but smile at the remark. She had met her grandfather only twice, but she understood exactly what the soldier was saying. "Please tell the principe that I am very grateful for his help," she responded.

"He wishes you had come to Venice, madonna," the captain said. "He would have protected you."

"But then the matter with my husband would have become public knowledge," Bianca said. "My father did not wish that. Perhaps one day I shall come to Venice."

"That would please the principe, madonna," was the reply. Then the captain politely withdrew, leaving the two women alone.

"I miss the bells," Bianca said to Agata. "And the incredible quiet of the convent. I felt at peace there, although I have no wish to become a nun. It is strange being free and out in the world again."

"We are not so much out in the world as we might be," Agata said. "The villa will be a quiet place too." She helped her mistress from her garments and brought her a small basin of water in which to wash.

"There will be new sounds," Bianca noted. "The sea, the wind, birds, and farm creatures." She quickly washed her face and hands, drying them on a linen cloth that Agata handed her. Then she lay down upon the small camp bed that had been provided for her as Agata drew up the silk quilt.

"I hope we can sleep on these things," she said as she took her place on the second narrow camp bed and drew up the coverlet. "They have not built them for comfort."

But sleep the two women did. It had been a long day, their journey beginning before dawn and not ending until sunset. Agata awakened before the dawn, hearing the encampment stirring about them. She arose and quickly dressed, going outside to hail the captain. "Shall I wake my mistress?" she asked him.

He nodded. "If we leave before first light we shall reach our destination in early afternoon. Go and get something to eat."

Agata followed his instruction, fetching bread, fruit, and cheese for herself and for Bianca. Then she returned to the pavilion to awaken the younger woman. Like her mistress, she had lived in Florence her entire life, and other than trips to the Pietro d'Angelos' villa in the countryside, she had never left it until now. She was curious to see the sea.

They reached Villa Luce Stellare, as the captain had promised, in midafternoon. Their party came down the hillside road they had been traveling to find the blue waters of the Ligurian Sea spread out before and below them. They had pa.s.sed through no villages that day. Now they turned off onto a narrow dirt path that went down a rocky slope. At the bottom of the path lay a small villa that was painted yellow. They stopped.

The captain hurried to help the two women from their horses. "Here we are, madonna. This will be your refuge." He walked to the large oak door and banged on it.

Bianca looked around her. It was certainly isolated, and the little villa could not be seen from the road. Perhaps, she thought, a tiny tendril of hope curling in her, perhaps I will be safe here from Sebastiano. I can make a life for myself at last.

"Here is the mistress of the house," she heard the captain say.

Bianca turned her eyes to the door of the villa.

A small, plump woman stood there, smiling broadly. "Welcome to Luce Stellare, signora. Your father sent us word to expect you. Come in! Come in!"

Bianca turned to the Venetian captain. "You will remain the night?" she asked.

"Nay, signora. We were instructed to deliver you safely, but then be on our way immediately in order not to attract any unwanted attention to your arrival. The principe and your father were most firm in their instructions. We will begin our return today and follow the road above along the coast into Modena. Its duca has given your grandfather permission for us to travel through his domain into Venetian territory. I thank you for the offer of hospitality. I will tell your grandfather of your kindness, signora."

"Mille grazie," Bianca said. "Please tell the principe that I am grateful for his protection, Captain."

He bowed smartly, and then mounting his horse, led his men back up the path to the coastal road they would travel.

Bianca stood a moment and looked about her. It was quiet, and the air was so sweet. There was a beach below the house. It was a narrow sandy strip that ran into a narrower span of small rocks. She would ask the servants if it could be walked, and how to get down to the beach. She turned and saw that the front door of the villa was flanked by a large, glazed blue pot on either side. The pots were planted with white roses, her favorites. She was certain her father had seen to that.

Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo could be a sentimental man. The roses, she suspected, were a peace offering. He had apologized to her for having insisted upon her marriage instead of seeking another solution to Sebastiano Rovere's blackmail. She had forgiven him easily, for he could not have known how brutal Rovere would be to a wife. The silk merchant was more than aware of the reputation for debauchery that his son-in-law possessed, but he had a.s.sumed that Rovere would not visit his vices upon his bride, an innocent girl of good family. That he had would trouble him for the rest of his life.

Bianca stopped to smell one of the beautiful roses. Its almost exotic fragrance was intoxicating. "Have it cut and brought to my bedchamber," she said to the patient servingwoman, who was still waiting for her to enter the villa.

"Si, signora," the servant said. "You enjoy the flowers?"

"I do," Bianca told her. "Very much."

"I am Filomena, signora. It is my duty to oversee your servants. All, of course, but your own personal servingwoman," she amended carefully. "Come in now. Come in! They are all awaiting you. It is a small staff, for the signore, your father, said you would prefer your privacy and are little trouble."

Bianca chuckled at this observation. "My father knows me well," she agreed.

The servants had all lined up in the beautiful entry of the house to meet her.

There was Gemma, the cook, and two young maidservants-one to help Filomena and the other to help the cook. Along with Agata, they const.i.tuted the household staff. There would be no men in the house, and again Bianca saw her father's hand in this arrangement. The outside staff consisted only of two brothers of indeterminate age, Primo and Ugo. They would care for the gardens and the animals.

"We grow much of our food," Filomena explained. "When your father came to open the villa after so many years, the old gardens were still visible among the weeds. The brothers have reclaimed much of it in the past few months, and will regain all of it by next year. There is a small grove of olive trees, and another of lemons. Primo says it may be possible to put in a little vineyard high up on the hillside. He says there was one there once, long ago. Some of the vines still survive. He brought some of the grapes for you this morning."

Bianca turned and smiled at Primo. "Thank you," she said.

Filomena nodded for the little group of servants to go about their business. "I will show you your new home," she said. "I imagine it is smaller than what you are used to, signora, but you will be comfortable. Your esteemed father has told me that you have been ill, and that life in the city is no longer for you. Is your husband dead?"

"No," Bianca said. But I wish he were, she thought silently. "I am seeking an annulment, Filomena. It was only discovered what an evil man my husband was after the marriage had taken place. He is now in prison awaiting his fate."

"Perhaps they will execute him, and then you will not have to bother with an annulment," Filomena said cheerfully. She was a country woman, and for her, simple solutions were always the best resolutions to any problem.

Bianca burst out laughing. "Yes, that would be a good result, but it is unlikely to happen. My husband is a wealthy and powerful man in Florence. He will escape his just due, but I will eventually get my annulment. For now, I hope I am well hidden."

"We will protect you, signora," Filomena said. Then she showed Bianca her new home, and was content to see that her signora was very pleased.

The entry to the villa was open and s.p.a.cious. It had a center staircase leading up to its second floor. The main level of the house consisted of two small salons that were furnished with upholstered wooden chairs and tables. There was a little library with a long table and a straight-backed chair, as well as a dining room that held a table for six, and chairs to match. All of the rooms had doors leading outside into the gardens. The walls were paneled in light-colored fruitwood, and the floors were tiled in squares of pale beige. The dining room walls, however, were painted in a mural depicting a stag hunt. The library walls were built-in bookcases. Its ceiling was coffered.

Bianca followed Filomena up the wide staircase to the second level. There were three bedchambers, each with a tiled fireplace. Two of the bedchambers had alcoves to house a servant. But the chamber that was Bianca's had a small separate windowed room for Agata. Bianca's canopied bed was hung with pale pink silk brocade. Her windows overlooked the gardens and the sea. There was a tall painted armoire on one wall, and a matching chest at the foot of the bed.

"I hope this chamber will be suitable, signora," the housekeeper said.

Bianca looked around the chamber. The tiles surrounding her fireplace were painted with a vine that had magenta flowers. The vine with its flora twined from tile to tile, giving the impression of a living plant. "It's lovely!" she said, smiling.

"I will leave you then to settle yourself, signora. Agata will be with you shortly." Then Filomena hurried off.

Bianca quickly realized that the windows overlooking the sea were actually doors that opened onto a balcony with a decorative black iron railing. Opening the doors, she stepped out and looked about her. To her left, she could see nothing but the steep, rocky green hills, but to her right and perhaps a mile in the distance there was another villa. She wondered if it was occupied.

Agata bustled into the bedchamber, calling her inside. "It is not your father's palazzo in Florence, but it is charming, mistress. Can you be happy here?" She looked anxiously at Bianca, her warm brown eyes filled with concern.

"Yes," Bianca said, "I can be happy here. I could be happy in a peasant's hut as long as I do not have to put up with Sebastiano Rovere, Agata."

"May he burn in h.e.l.l, and soon!" Agata said, making the sign of the evil eye.

Bianca settled easily into country life at Luce Stellare. She actually had more freedom in her life than she had ever had. She spent time exploring the gardens that Primo and Ugo were restoring. Unlike her father's palazzo, which had its kitchens on the lowest level of the house, the villa's kitchens were in the rear of the main floor. Outside its door was a thriving herb garden with both sweet and savory herbs. There was a small kitchen garden of vegetables, but there was also a large vegetable garden in another area that had two apricot trees as well.

The flower gardens were a delight not only to the eyes but also to the nose.

As autumn progressed, of course, the gardens died back, but the roses would continue to bloom until a frost signaled to them that it was time to rest. Frosts were light here on the coast, as the sea warmed the air. In Florence, it would grow wet and chilly, but here at Luce Stellare the weather would be mild.

The beach was safe to walk, Filomena told Bianca. She might even ride her horse, but the truth was Bianca enjoyed walking along the water. To Agata's relief, she wanted no companion with her. The servingwoman liked the gardens, but now having seen the sea, she was wary of it. She was content helping with the poultry, and she much enjoyed herding the goats. It was a calling she would have never suspected she possessed.

"There is a country woman in you somewhere," Filomena teased her.

"Bah! Even my old grandmother was born in Florence," Agata said.