Silk Merchant's Daughters: Bianca Part 9

Bianca grew pale and jumped to her feet, calling for Agata. Had he found her? She had to escape the villa. She would not allow Sebastiano to force her back to Florence as his wife. "Agata! Agata! Where are you?" She was becoming frantic with her fear.

Prince Amir saw the terror in her eyes, in her face. Jumping to his feet, he said, "I will protect you, Bianca! I will protect you!"

Agata ran into the sala da pranzo.

"Tell Primo to saddle my horse," Bianca cried. "I must get away! He cannot find me, Agata! He cannot! Hurry! Hurry!"

There came a loud knocking on the oak doors.

"See who is at the door," Prince Amir said sternly to Agata.

"No! No! I must escape! I must!" Bianca sobbed now, thoroughly frightened.

The knocking resounded again.

"Go!" The prince told Agata.

Pale herself, the servingwoman scurried off to do his bidding. Reaching the door, Agata pulled it open before her courage failed her. "Signora! Oh, signora! You have given us such a fright," she said to Orianna Pietro d'Angelo, who stood before her. "Come in! Come in! Mistress! Mistress! Come quickly! It is your mother!"

Bianca flew from the dining room, running straight into her mother's outstretched arms. "Madre! Oh, Madre!" And then she began to weep.

Orianna hugged her eldest daughter as the tears p.r.i.c.ked the backs of her eyelids, but she would not let them fall. "Bianca, Bianca," she murmured into her child's dark hair. "I could not let another birthday pa.s.s without seeing you." She kissed the tears from her daughter's face. "I only wish I brought you better news."

"Have you eaten, Signora?" Agata asked and then answered her own question. "Of course you haven't. I'll have Gemma fix you something immediately."

"My men . . ." Orianna began.

"Primo or Ugo will have taken them to the kitchens. Their horses will be stabled, and they will sleep dry and warm in the barn, signora."

Bianca ushered her mother into the dining room The prince came forward immediately to greet her. "Signora Pietro d'Angelo, I am Prince Amir ibn Jem." He politely seated her at Bianca's right hand. "I am your daughter's neighbor."

Orianna was rarely surprised, but Prince Amir's presence was totally unexpected. She sat down at the rectangular oak table. Surely Bianca hadn't taken a lover.

"We walk together, we ride, and occasionally he can even beat me at chess," Bianca said, smiling at the prince.

It was a warm smile that a woman gives to a man she is in love with, and Orianna heard in her daughter's voice something she had never before heard. Madre di Dios! Do not let her have acted foolishly. "Is that all you do together?" she heard herself asking.

Bianca looked puzzled, not quite comprehending her mother.

The prince, however, did. "You have raised your daughter to be a moral woman, signora," he said. "And I have no need to seduce her or bring shame to your name." He went to Bianca, who suddenly realized what her mother meant. Mortified, she wasn't certain what to do next. Amir took her hand up and kissed it. "Thank you for your hospitality, Bianca," he told her.

"Will you come tomorrow?" she asked, looking up at him.

"The day after, perhaps. You have your mother for company now, and I am certain she has much to tell you or she wouldn't have risked the journey," the prince replied. Then he looked directly at Orianna. "Can you be certain you were not followed? You have possibly endangered Bianca's safety by coming, signora."

"Rovere is in Rome," Orianna said. "My journey was planned in advance, and I did not depart from our palazzo, signore. I would never knowingly expose Bianca."

Amir nodded, and then, turning on his heel, left.

"You were rude to him," Bianca said quietly.

"Is he your lover?" Orianna asked bluntly.

"Of course not, Madre. I am a married woman, no matter the difficulties with Sebastiano. You did not raise me to be a loose woman," Bianca replied indignantly.

"Then why is he in your house and alone with you?" Orianna demanded to know.

"Because he is my friend," Bianca said. "It is my natal day, and he brought me a gift, which I, for the sake of my good name, was forced to refuse. I asked him to share my meal. I am never really alone with him. I am surrounded by my servants. There is nothing improper in our friends.h.i.+p, though I tell you I wish it were otherwise, Madre. He is kind, which the blessed Mother knows my husband has never been. He treats me with respect, which Sebastiano has never done, beginning with that travesty of a wedding night. I am a grown woman, Madre, not an innocent girl who is dazzled by a handsome man."

"He is very handsome," Orianna noted. "And proud too. However, you are correct in that he is respectful of you, Bianca. I will admit to being impressed by his care of your good name. Does he know the situation in which you find yourself?"

"Does he know I am a married woman and that I seek the dissolution of my marriage? Yes, Madre, he does," said Bianca.

Orianna nodded. "I will remain with you tomorrow, and then I must return to Florence. Your father did not want me to come and was fearful for us both, but I could bear our separation no longer. With Rovere in Rome, it was the perfect opportunity. My father sent half a dozen men from Venice to accompany me. I slipped through the church garden and met them outside of its gate. I will return the same way. My absence has been explained by saying I am making a retreat for a few days at a nearby convent."

"You said the news you brought was not good, Madre," Bianca reminded her mother. "What is it?"

Orianna sighed painfully. "The influence your grandfather has is limited to two elderly cardinals. Rovere, on the other hand, has his kinsman, and I am told that because of his predilection for debauchery, even in Rome, he has attracted the interest of several other high churchmen whose tastes are similar. The matter of your annulment has become a matter for study and further consideration."

"In other words, my husband has won," Bianca said.

Orianna said nothing. She could not deny it.

"I will die before I return to him," Bianca told her mother quietly.

"He will not care," her mother replied. "He is a gamesman, and his only interest is in winning. To have the most beautiful girl in Florence flee him six months after their marriage and demand an annulment was a serious blow to his pride. But to have the Church postpone her request for her freedom gives him the victory he needs to salvage his damaged reputation. And having that influence with the Church makes him more powerful in Florence. The di Medici are not pleased at all."

"But the di Medici cannot legally protect me from my husband," Bianca responded. "They must be careful of their own reputation, for we all know there are certain families who would topple them from their position of power and influence given the opportunity. There is nothing left for me now if I cannot be free of Sebastiano Rovere, Madre. I will remain here at Luce Stellare. Eventually it is to be hoped he will either die of his excesses or decide to let me go. If he should ever discover where I am hidden, I will find a way to kill myself, but I will not return to that man or his house ever again."

While she enjoyed her mother's company the following day, she actually wished Orianna gone so she might speak with Amir. But when Orianna did depart the following morning, Bianca felt an even deeper sadness, for she did not know if she would ever see her mother, or the rest of her family, again. Taking her horse, she guided it down the steep path to the beach and rode towards the prince's villa. She needed the comfort of Amir's presence and his strength.

To her surprise Darius came loping down the beach to greet her, his golden fur gleaming in the suns.h.i.+ne, the long, slender curl of his tail wagging as he reached her. Then she saw Amir on his own mount, waiting for her in the shadow of the caves. She urged her mare to their meeting, and almost leaping from the animal's back, flung herself at the prince in a display of utter desperation.

"What has happened, Bianca?" he asked as his arms closed about her. Allah! She had to be in great distress to behave so incautiously. Unable to help himself with her warm body pressing against him, he buried his face in her hair, which had come undone in her race to reach him. He breathed in the essence of her. Sweet! Sweet! Allah! He wanted her so much. If he had been another man, he could have easily taken advantage of her unhappiness, but he would not. "Tell me what is wrong, Bianca," he heard himself repeating. Then he set her back from him, looking into her tearstained face. "What has your mother told you?"

"Rovere has won," she began with a sob, but then recovered herself. "The Church in Rome has decided my request for an annulment from him is a matter for further study. It seems he and his kinsman, the cardinal, found among the church's holy men several with a similar nature to my husband. They, in turn, have used their influence to block that of my family. Even my princely Venetian grandfather's prestige is not enough to save me. Now Sebastiano will find me, and when he does he will kill me. He has that right as my husband, and none can gainsay him, Amir." She began to weep again.

"Come away with me!" he heard himself saying.

"What?" She had not heard him correctly.

"Come away with me," he repeated. "I will take you to my home on the Black Sea. He will never find you, and I will keep you safe forever, Bianca."

She closed her eyes briefly, imagining a life with this gentle, handsome man. It would be a good life, Bianca instinctively knew, and for the first time she was tempted beyond all reason. She was so tired of being afraid. Then she heard his voice.

"I love you," the prince said. "I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I will always love you, beloved."

"I love you too," Bianca heard herself admitting, and she did. Then she drew in a long, deep breath. "But we are honorable people, Amir. I could never be truly happy knowing I had run away and shamed my family's name. I will not become your lover until I am free of Sebastiano Rovere. Religion and nationality mean little to me. I am a Florentine Christian woman, and you are an infidel Turk, but we love each other nonetheless. However, you cannot dishonor your name any more than I can mine." She felt suddenly stronger, and knew it was the knowledge of his love that had made her so.

"If Rovere finds you and comes to take you back, I will kill him myself," Amir told her. "Then you would be mine."

"They would arrest you," she said softly. He would kill for her. He loved her. No man had ever said such things to her. Bianca's heart raced with both fear and excitement.

"Not if they do not find his body," Amir replied. "Nor would they find us."

"We would have to wait several years for him to be declared dead if there was no body," Bianca countered. "I would be an old woman, and you would not want me then."

"I will always want you, beloved," he promised her.

He rode back with her to the villa, remaining to eat and play a few games of chess with her. By the time he departed, Bianca was feeling much better. If Sebastiano came, Amir would kill him. She believed it would happen and rested easier now. The rainy season came once again and all remained quiet at Luce Stellare. It was late winter before her fears were finally realized and Bianca was forced to face her husband for the first time in over two years.

He burst through the front door of the villa with a small party of men at dusk. His voice thundered through the small villa as he called her name, demanding her immediate attendance upon him. "Bianca! You will show yourself immediately, my disobedient wife. I have come to take you home, b.i.t.c.h!"

Bianca had heard the commotion as her doors were rent asunder. She had been in the little library by the fire sewing a silk s.h.i.+rt for the prince. Putting her work aside, she heard her husband's voice calling for her. She was not going to hide, she told herself. Amir would come, and Rovere would finally meet his fate. She rose, pale and frightened, but she was determined to stand up to him. He would be quite surprised.

Agata sidled into the room. Her face was pinched with fright. "I have sent Ugo for the prince. There are only four men with your husband."

"You and Gemma hide with the girls," Bianca said. "If you don't, I am afraid they will be raped, for he will set his men on my women, and I don't want that."

"I must stay with you, mistress," Agata said loyally.

"I will manage Rovere as best I can," Bianca told her servingwoman. "See to the other women for my sake, if not your own."

Reluctantly, Agata slipped away, and drawing herself up to her full height Bianca came forth from her library into the gracious entry of her home. "You are hardly welcome here, signore," she told him boldly. "My absence from your home these few years has surely made it clear to even you that I do not choose to cohabit with such a husband. You should not have interfered with the annulment I sought from you."

Madre di Dios, he had changed. The once-handsome face was now bloated and puffy, marred further by broken veins near and on his nose. His hair had thinned considerably.

He advanced on her menacingly. "You little b.i.t.c.h," he snarled at her. "How dare you make me the laughingstock of Florence by leaving me?" He was infuriated by her calm beauty. Even in a modest gown of dark green velvet, she enticed him, and it angered him. His hand flashed out to make hard contact with her pale cheek.

She was startled by the unexpected blow, but though her heart was hammering in her chest, Bianca held her ground. "How dare you treat your wife like a wh.o.r.e?" she countered. Her cheek was burning, and she knew it was scarlet with color now. A tiny frisson of fear began to bloom within her. Bianca thrust it back angrily. She was not going to allow this brute to terrorize her any longer.

"You are a wh.o.r.e," he shouted. "All women are wh.o.r.es, even those like you from respectable families." He turned to his men. "Find whoever else is in this house, and drive them out of it. Amuse yourselves with the women if you must. My wife and I have business to transact this night." He turned back to Bianca.

"Get out of my villa, and take these bandits you hired with you," Bianca said bravely. "There is nothing further we have to discuss, Sebastiano. I hate and despise you. Get out! Get out! Get out!" And she stamped her feet at him angrily. "Understand that I will never be your wife again, in any sense."

His face grew purple with his rage now. When she turned to leave him standing there, his fury broke. Stepping quickly forward, his fingers dug into her hair, causing the neat chignon she wore to come loose. Wrapping the long, dark ebony locks about his hand, he yanked her back and around so she was facing him once more. His breath, always unpleasant, was now absolutely rank as he screamed at her, "You are mine! Mine, b.i.t.c.h! Mine to do with as I please." His hand descended several times, beating her about the face and shoulders. "First I intend to punish your disobedience with my hands. Then I will spend some time f.u.c.king you into compliance with my wishes. Finally I will give you such a sound beating, there won't be a place on your silky white body that doesn't bear my mark. In the morning we will return to Florence, where my little donkey is eagerly waiting for you. I warned you long ago, Bianca, that you are my property, and mine to do with as I will. But before I kill you, cara mia, you will grovel at my feet and thank me for ending your torture. What say you to that, b.i.t.c.h?"

She looked up at him, one eye already swelling, her nose bloodied. "May you rot in h.e.l.l of the French pox, my husband," she managed to say before striking out at him with her two fists. Her whole body was aching with his blows, but she would not give in to this wretched excuse for a human being. She clawed at him and spat at him. She covered him in the worst curses she could think of, seeing the brief surprise on his face. Then he laughed at her and began to beat her once more with his punis.h.i.+ng hands while Bianca attempted to defend herself from his attack.

Suddenly, to her astonishment and relief, her five women servants rushed into the wide entry armed with brooms and pans. They first yanked Rovere away from Bianca and next began beating him with their household weapons as they shouted curses at him, pus.h.i.+ng him roughly out the front door of the villa. There, Primo awaited to force the surprised man onto his horse, sending him away into the deepening night with a hard smack on the horse's plump flanks.

It had been done so quickly that Rovere could scarcely believe what had happened. Where were his men? What had happened to them? The cowards had probably fled. But without their wages? He would probably find them farther on down the road. The night was cold and damp. He was finally forced to stop in the open, for he could no longer see the road ahead of him. He huddled down in the dark, cursing his fate at a light rain began to fall. As soon as it became even vaguely possible to move on, he mounted his beast and got back onto the country road again.

His men were still nowhere to be found, and he was yet miles from the main road to Florence. He was hungry and he was thirsty, but having no choice rode slowly on. Every small wood he traversed, he did so nervously. And then suddenly ahead of him on the hilly road he saw a small party of riders. His men? No, there were at least a dozen of them. Well, they could have what little money he had on him just as long as he managed to gain the main road to Florence. As expected, the masked hors.e.m.e.n surrounded him.

"I am Sebastiano Rovere of Florence," he said boldly. "You can have what monies I carry, but allow me to pa.s.s so I may reach a respectable inn by tonight."

"Get off your horse," a deep voice ordered him.

"Do not be unreasonable," Rovere said. "The animal has little value, but I cannot walk to Florence." Then to his amazement he was yanked rudely from the beast's back.

"We do not want the beast or your money, Rovere," the deep voice said. "We seek your life in exchange for your many sins."

Sebastiano Rovere's mouth fell open with his surprise at the words uttered by the bandit. "Who are you?" he asked, now truly frightened. They were going to a.s.sa.s.sinate him. He should not have to die like this out on the open road.

"I will give you whatever you desire," he began, "if you will spare my life."

The party of masked bandits laughed heartily, and their spokesman said, "There is no amount of gold that could buy your life, Rovere. Your sins are too many and too great, I fear. No. Your time has come, and like your many victims, there will be no mercy shown to you."

"Gold! Women! Whatever you desire," Rovere babbled, and he peed himself in his deepening fear of his impending death.

Again the bandits laughed. "We are not barbarians, Rovere. Say whatever prayers you say so we may be finished with this and have justice done at last."

"At least let me know who you are," Rovere begged. "I want to know who delivers what you dare to call justice to a respected man of Florence."

"You are not respected, Rovere. You are feared by the weak and despised by your betters, of whom there are many. You have fallen too low to be saved now. Your evil has run its course, and it is time for you to meet your master, the devil."

Two men stood on either side of the unfortunate man. They held his arms tightly, preventing his struggles.

"I want to know who you are!" Sebastiano Rovere screamed as his executioner stepped forward.

"You have been tried by the good and found guilty of your sins," the deep-voiced man on the horse said. "You are sentenced to death. The weapon's tip has been poisoned, for although we know you are heartless, we have granted you the mercy you never gave to so many of your unfortunate victims."

"Nooo!" Rovere shrieked as he felt the dagger plunge deep into his chest. He screamed as it was twisted several times, and he felt the poison beginning to work as his lungs ceased to expand and he could no longer draw a breath. His executioner lowered the cloth that was s.h.i.+elding the face behind it.

"You?" he gasped, disbelieving with his last breath, and collapsed onto the road as he was released from the hold of the two men.

"Check to make certain he is dead," the leader ordered. "Cut his throat for good measure," he told the men who had been restraining the prisoner. "Cut off his c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s too. Stuff them in his mouth for whoever finds him to see. It is a fitting ending for a debaucher of women."

One of the men immediately complied. Rovere's blood pooled in the dirt of the narrow road, then began to congeal. His mouth bulged wide open as his genitals were pushed between his lips, which were even now turning blue.

His executioner turned away without a word, drawing the face covering up again.

"Leave his horse and his purse," the rider with the deep voice said. "Let whoever finds him know that the murder done was personal and not for gain." Then seeing all his companions mounted, he gave the signal and they rode away. Above the body of the dead man, carrion birds began arriving with noisy cries of antic.i.p.ation in the gray skies above.

It was almost a month later when word reached Bianca that Sebastiano Rovere had been set upon and killed on the road as he returned to Florence. She was almost healed now from the beating he had administered before her female servants had driven him out of the villa. She had learned from Agata that they had quickly dispatched the four men-at-arms who had accompanied her deceased husband. Rufina and Pia, the two pretty housemaids, lured them with bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s and raised skirts while Filomena and Gemma had slit the throats of each man as he eagerly fell upon a girl.

"They would not allow me to help them with those men," Agata said, sounding relieved. "They said a city woman had too great a conscience, whereas a country woman did what must be done without regret."

"What happened to the bodies?" Bianca wanted to know.

"We put them in bags weighed down with stones. A cousin of Gemma's is the fisherman who supplies us with our fish. He took the bodies one by one out to sea and dumped them. They were sc.u.m hired by Rovere, and not his own men. They will not be missed by anyone," Agata a.s.sured Bianca.

They had been living in fear that Bianca's brutal husband would return with a stronger force to retrieve his wife and take his revenge on the women of the villa. Then had come word of his death. It had been a shock, for Bianca had never considered that her husband might be a.s.sa.s.sinated by an enemy, though such a thing was not uncommon in Florence. But as the shock quickly evaporated and relief flooded her, Bianca realized that she was at last free.

"Send Ugo to the prince with word that I must see him urgently," Bianca told Agata, and a smiling Agata hurried out to send the manservant on his way.

That fatal night that Rovere had arrived at Luce Stellare, Ugo had taken a horse and raced down the beach to the prince's villa to fetch him. When he had arrived he had learned that both the prince and his servant, Krikor, had gone to the city several days prior. He had quickly brought back word to Agata, and it was then the women had acted to drive Sebastiano Rovere from the house and rescue Bianca.