"It has to be now. No later than tomorrow."
"I said it couldn't be done. You must be--" Caterina broke off as she noticed the desperation in Sanchia's expression. "Ah, he does stir you. Can you not withstand him for a few more days?"
"I don't know," Sanchia whispered.
"Let me think." Caterina rested her head against the high back of the chair. "Sit down. Together we should be able to find an answer to this problem."
Sanchia sat down on the stool Lion's mother had indicated and folded her hands in her lap. Her position was one of subservience and yet, curiously, she didn't feel at all servile at this moment. The silence between them was companionable and she felt a strong sense of kinship toward Caterina Andreas.
"Ah, I've thought of it." Caterina leaned forward, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. "A solution that will suit us both very well and turn the good Messer Vasaro's words back against himself."
Sanchia frowned in puzzlement at the reference to Lorenzo, but leaned forward to listen eagerly as Caterina started to speak.
"Lion!"
About to go out the door, Lion turned at the sound of his mother's voice. She was rushing down the stairs toward him.
"You mustn't leave now. I'll require your presence at supper tonight." Caterina had reached the last step and paused with her beringed fingers resting lightly on the bannister. "We have guests and it would be rude to ignore them."
"Guests?"
"Only a dozen or so. Messer Guido Ralzo and Fra di Bresgano, Lucretia Montagno and her daughter, Mona. Messer Della Rosa and his son who recently has returned from the university at Ferrara."
Lion's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you at, mother? You take little pleasure in entertainments of this kind. I can't remember the last occasion when you invited anyone to sup with us."
"Then it's time I did, isn't it?" Caterina asked with a bland smile. "It's my duty to the citizens of Mandara. And your duty, too, Lion."
"I must go."
"Yes, I know. We've seen little of you since you've come home." Her tone sharpened. "Would it do you harm to sit at the table for one meal with your mother?"
Lion hesitated. "If you had let me know you had invited half the city of Mandara, I would have--"
"A dozen guests is not half the city." She smiled faintly. "Though I'm planning a more festive entertainment in a week's time to which we'll invite five times the number. Naturally, since I've given you warning, you'll be happy to attend."
"We shall see."
"Yes, we shall see." Caterina moved forward and placed an affectionate hand on her son's arm. "But I think you'll be persuaded to play the host. I don't ask a great deal of you, Lion."
His expression softened as he looked down at her. "No, you ask very little. You rule Mandara much better than I."
"Nonsense. I merely devote time and effort where it's due. If you'd give up this playing at the building of boats and return where you belong, there is no telling what we could do with Mandara."
"But why would you wish to improve on perfection?" Lorenzo asked as he descended the steps. "Besides, what could you have here that you don't have now? If Mandara were larger and more powerful, you'd also have more poverty and corruption." He smiled as he stopped before Caterina and Lion. "No, Lion is right, Lady Caterina. Mandara is truly blossoming under your benevolent rule."
"There are times when I don't feel at all benevolent," she said turning to face Lorenzo. "And this is one of them, Messer Vasaro."
"But I'm sure you'll soon recover to become your usual gracious self." Lorenzo bowed mockingly. "Run along, Lion. With a hostess so exquisite at the table, your presence would be superfluous."
"No," Caterina said through gritted teeth. "At least stay for supper, Lion. I will make no argument if you wish to leave afterward."
Lorenzo looked at her with surprise. "Compromise? Now I wonder why you're willing--"
"I'll stay," Lion interrupted impatiently. "But I'll leave immediately after supper."
"If you like." Caterina's hand squeezed Lion's arm. "It will be delightful to have you with us for even a short time. Thank you, Lion."
"As Lorenzo said, no one will notice I'm at the table but if it pleases you I'll--"
Bianca's excited laughter trilled from the landing. Lion's gaze lifted to see Bianca rounding the curve of the stairwell. "Oh, Lion, is it not wonderful?" She called over her shoulder, "We're having such a superb time, aren't we?"
"A splendid time."
Lion froze as his gaze traveled past Bianca to the woman now coming around the curve of the stairwell.
Sanchia paused for a moment on the stairs to look down and meet Lion's stunned gaze. "My lord." She nodded and then turned to Bianca, who was now affectionately linking her arm with Sanchia's.
Lorenzo murmured an imprecation beneath his breath and then began to laugh softly.
"Is it not a lovely surprise, Lion?" Bianca pulled Sanchia swiftly down the stairs. "Your mother put Sanchia in my dressing room so that I can watch over her until she's completely healed and that sweet little Piero is in the chamber next to mine. Sanchia and I have been chattering and making plans all afternoon."
"Lovely." He stared intently at Sanchia's face. "And yes, a complete surprise."
Sanchia steadily returned his stare. "How could I refuse your mother's kind invitation?"
"Yes, how could you?" Lorenzo asked. "We've just been discussing how charming Lady Caterina can be."
"It's time for Sanchia to be among people who can care for her properly." Caterina stepped forward and gently took Sanchia's hurt hand in her own. "Solitude is all very well, but she'll be much better off here at the castle. Since, unfortunately, Sanchia appears to have no last name, I've chosen to give her one. I've informed my guests I have a young kinswoman here by the name of Sanchia Salmona. Do remember that, won't you, Lion? Now, come along, my dear, and I'll introduce you to our guests. I sent them to wander in my garden while it's still light enough to see how beautiful it is. I'm very proud of my rose garden."
"I'll escort Sanchia, mother." Lion's face was impassive as he stepped forward. "Like the dutiful host you propose to make me."
"I'll come too." Bianca smiled eagerly. "I'll show you the arbor where Marco painted my portrait, Sanchia."
"Yes, of course," Caterina said, "you must show Sanchia everything, Bianca. We want to make certain she knows how welcome she is here."
Lion darted his mother a cold glance. "Come along then, Bianca," he said.
A smile lingered on Caterina's face as she watched the three of them walk away from her.
"A bold move."
Her gaze shifted to Lorenzo. "It was your suggestion that I invite her to the castle, remember?"
"Because I thought it would annoy you." He grimaced. "And because I hadn't thought out the full ramifications."
"Neither had I until she came to see me."
"Sanchia came to you? Interesting. Am I to assume this is a concerted foray?"
"Yes."
"You know, of course, that this move has an element of risk? You're placing Sanchia constantly within Lion's reach."
"Extremely well chaperoned by Bianca, Marco, myself, and some dozen house guests."
"Ah, you didn't mention your guests would be staying at the castle."
"Perhaps I forgot." She looked innocently at him. "Why should I not rejoice in Lion's homecoming by celebrating with a few friends?"
"No reason whatever."
She made a face as she started to follow the others to the garden. "At least you could have the sensibility to behave as though you are properly dismayed and annoyed with me."
"I'm not annoyed. I revel in your cleverness and ingenuity." He fell into step with her. "I was wondering when you were going to make a move to correct the situation to your own satisfaction. You've been entirely too meek and retiring of late."
"You find me retiring? We must discuss that at a more convenient time."
"I'm always willing to be
proved wrong by someone of your stature, Lady Caterina."
She paused as she reached the door leading to the garden and glanced at him with a frown. "Are you truly not angry with me?"
He smiled. "I detest disappointing you, but I couldn't be more pleased. This delay will make no difference in the long run, you know."
"It most certainly will."
He shook his head. "They want each other and lust overcomes all obstacles. You've merely made the consummation of that lust more difficult and therefore a thousand times more appealing. One of the foibles of human nature."
"I've made it impossible."
He chuckled. "At any rate, a magnificent challenge I look forward to meeting. Though I'm sure Lion will not be as pleased at your interference."
"Sanchia is pleased."
"She only thinks so, perhaps. Part of her may conspire to aid Lion in achieving his intentions. It's the nature of woman to want to propagate the species."
"You know nothing of a woman's nature. We do have needs besides that of birthing babies and providing a receptacle for a man's--"
"My dear lady, please spare me your lecture. I was speaking of the feminine gender as a whole, not of yourself. We all know how extraordinary a woman you are." He bowed politely. "And now I must mingle with your guests and leave you to play the grand lady. I've been by your side too long."
Without giving her a chance to reply he bowed again and strolled toward a group of ladies and gentlemen standing by the marble fountain in the center of the garden.
Caterina gazed after him a moment, feeling oddly flat. The garden seemed suddenly drained of the vibrancy of its glorious color. She also felt drained of color. When she was with Lorenzo she always felt clever and witty and wonderfully desirable. Perhaps because that was the way she saw herself mirrored in his eyes.
But this was foolishness. She was witty and clever and desirable. She certainly needed no man to mirror her qualities in order to pamper her feelings of her own consequences. She needed no man at all.
She deliberately looked away from Lorenzo and strolled down the path toward the arbor where Lion and Sanchia stood watching Marco push Bianca in the flower-garlanded swing hanging from the oak tree several yards away.
"What do you think you're doing here?" Lion asked in a fierce undertone, his stare fixed unseeingly on Marco and Bianca.
"Enjoying the sunshine," Sanchia answered, not looking at him.
"Enjoy it on the balcony of your house on the piazza."
"It has different hues here."
"Sanchia, I'm not--" He drew a deep breath, trying to control his temper. "I don't want you here."
"But I want to be here, your mother wants me here. Even Bianca wants me here."
He was silent a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was cold. "You think to avoid me?"
"It seems for the best. I told you--"
"I weary of what you tell me," he interrupted. "You had no need to run from me. I was giving you time." He turned to look at her. "But I'll give you no more. You've chosen your way. So be it." He turned on his heel and strode up the path, meeting his mother on her way to the arbor. He nodded tersely and would have marched past her had she not stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"It's for the best, Lion," she said quietly.
"Sanchia used those same words." Lion moved to the side so that her hand dropped from his sleeve. "Between the two of you I'm beginning to be convinced you must be correct. You chose for her to come here. Who am I to argue?"
"Lion, you don't want--"
"You don't know what I want. Your ambitions blind you. Yes, blindis an excellent word, for you will not see what you've done here today!" He paused. "I've tried for thirteen years to avoid hurting you and Bianca, but I'm done with it. I will not be coerced by you and Sanchia, Mother."
She glanced quickly at a couple who had stopped to admire the roses a few yards away. "Hush, someone will hear."
"Then let them hear. I no longer care."
"Bianca."
"You brought the threat to Bianca here when you took Sanchia from the house on the piazza and settled her so cozily next to my lovely wife. You try to keep the threat at bay now." He took a deep breath. "But, by God, you'll not succeed."
"Bianca is very happy you're here."
Sanchia turned from watching Lion stride away to see Marco walking toward her. Bianca was still sitting in the swing, looking dreamily at the boughs of the tree above her. Marco glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He turned to Sanchia. "It would be a kindness if you would not disappoint her."
"I wished to speak to you, Marco. I know I promised I would leave Mandara and that's still my intention. Let me explain why--"
"No explanation is necessary. The situation is more than clear. You came here to escape Lion, not to pursue him." He made a face. "Though my mother and Lion consider me a dreamer, I'm not a fool. As far as I'm concerned you're welcome here as long as you do nothing to hurt Bianca."
"I do not think you a fool." Her gaze went involuntarily to Bianca.
He shook his head. "No, there's nothing of the fool in the way I feel about Bianca." He smiled gently as he, too, looked at the child-woman on the swing. "She's the best part of what I am. She looks at me and sees me as I want to be. I'm not really a wonderful artist, you know. Compared even to the apprentices of Da Vinci and Botticelli I have no talent at all. But I work hard and I do grow better and perhaps someday... " He shrugged. "But, if I never develop more skill, if I never receive great inspiration, I'll be enough for Bianca. Just as she'll always be enough for me."
When Sanchia didn't speak, he glanced at her and then nodded slowly. "You find that a surprise? Yes, I know that she'll never be more than a child--though I didn't at first." He paused, searching for words. "When she first came to Mandara I thought she was the most loving, the sweetest maid in all of Italy. She touched my heart and made me feel as if it were always springtime when she was near."
"She is so very lovely."
"Yes." His gaze returned to Bianca. "When I realized she would never change, never become a woman who could be my--" He sighed. "You understand that I would never do anything to hurt my brother, but still there was the smallest hope. And then, suddenly, there was no hope. It wasn't an easy time for me."
Sanchia was unbearably moved. "You don't have to tell me this, Marco."
"Yes, I do. I like and admire you and want you to understand why I seem to be callous to your own needs." Marco shrugged. "We will say no more about it." He started to turn away. "She's becoming restless. I must return to her."
"Marco." Sanchia hesitated. "You said it wasn't easy for you. Why did you decide to stay here with her?"
"But you don't understand. It was too late for me." His smile held sadness as well as sweetness. "And though I know summer will never come, it's not every man who's privileged to live in eternal springtime."
Sanchia watched him walk away from her and heard Bianca's laughing greeting as he came near. A slanting beam of sunlight struck through the leafy branches of the oak tree and surrounded them in a pool of radiance as Marco pulled back the rose garlanded swing. Then, gently but strongly, he pushed Bianca forward so that she left the earth and soared toward the heavens.
"A message?" Borgia asked as he turned away from the window to look at Damari. "Why is it necessary for me to write to my father?"
"A mere precaution." Damari smiled ingratiatingly. "I believe I've found a way to obtain the Wind Dancer with absolutely no expense to you or His Holiness. But there's a certain risk that all of us might be less than adored by the populace should the method become known. Of course soldiers such as ourselves can dispense with the love of the masses, but a pope must be more careful."
"I'm sure your consideration for my father's position will be much appreciated." Borgia dropped onto a chair and looked up sardonically at Damari. "However, he can be persuaded to take a few chances if the rewards are great. What is to be the point of this message of mine?"
; "Word has come to me that there are certain conditions prevailing in the small village of Fontana that would aid us in our purpose." Damari began to speak quickly and persuasively, outlining his plan with clear, stark phrases. It took only a few minutes and then he fell silent, waiting for Borgia's response.
Borgia was also silent, thinking. Finally, he nodded slowly. "It could accomplish our purpose. Though it offers a certain danger to you."
"I'm willing to take the chance. As I told you, my lord, I believe in my own destiny."
"You would have to believe very strongly to joust with fate in this fashion. However, as I said, it might possibly work."
"There's no question about it." Damari tried to keep the eagerness from his voice. "Naturally, if you consider the means too dangerous for you or His Holiness, I'll yield to your judgment. But I can do this, my lord."
"The sheer boldness of the plan endears it to me." Borgia nodded. "I'll write to my father and put the scheme before him."
"Immediately? Time is of the essence, as you can see."
"At once." Borgia stood up and moved to the bellrope across the room. "I'll send a messenger with instructions to wait for an immediate reply. You'll stay here at Cesena until word comes with my father's approval."
"Do you think he'll give his approval?"
Borgia smiled. "I can be very persuasive, too, when I wish."
Damari was reassured. Borgia wanted the statue enough to take the risk, and everyone knew his influence over his father was growing stronger with every passing day.
"Perhaps you could emphasize the legendary powers of the Wind Dancer?"
"No need to prod him. He's already mad to have it. In his last communication to me he was babbling about some equestrian statue at the Ponte Vecchio in Florence where Buondelmonti was slain and supposedly started the feud between Guelph and Ghibelline. He's sure our fate rests with the Wind Dancer." Borgia sat down at the desk and drew out a piece of fine parchment from the middle drawer. "No, he's eager enough to possess the statue, but he's an old man and grows cautious with his years. I must stress that your plan can be accomplished without any real danger of discovery of his part in it." He glanced over his shoulder. "And your plan is not quite complete, Damari. I can add a few embellishments that will better please my father and myself." He picked up his quill pen and dipped it in the onyx inkwell. "You're right. Were my father's part in the scheme to overcome those at Mandara become known, he could be forced from the Vatican." He began to write. "Therefore there must be no knowledge of it."
The Wind Dancer Page 24
