The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds

by Iris Johansen

  “He betrayed us.” Lion’s gaze was on her face. “He deserved to die. He was as guilty as Damari.”

  “What happened at Solinari is over. At first I was so angry I thought I wanted revenge, but now I wish only to forget about it.”

  “I’m not so gentle-natured. I told you I returned good for good and evil for evil. Solinari will be over when all who are responsible for what happened to you are punished.” He swung onto Tabron’s back. “I’ll visit you this evening. There are things I wish to discuss.” He glanced over his shoulder as he turned his horse and tightened his grip on the mule’s lead rope. “You’d better feed the boy. He’s eaten scarcely a morsel since we set out.”

  “I will.” Her voice was still muffled with tears. “Lion?”

  He reined in and looked back at her.

  “Why?”

  His gaze met hers, his expression impassive. “Solinari.”

  He turned and rode down the street in the direction of the castle.

  “Sanchia.” Piero was stepping back, wriggling out of her arms. “I’m staying, Sanchia. He said I could stay, but even if he hadn’t, I’d stay anyway. I’m not going back to Elizabet.”

  “Shh, it’s all right.” Her palm cupped his cheek. She had forgotten how soft and warm a child’s cheek could be. “You don’t have to go back. But weren’t you happy there? You look well.” She grinned. “I can tell you’ve been living with a baker. You’ve grown plump as a pigeon since last I saw you.”

  He shrugged, his gaze fixed on her face. “I didn’t belong there. I belong with you. I told him so when he asked me.”

  “Lion?”

  “Lord Andreas asked if I’d be willing to come to you. He said that you’d been hurt and were lonely for me. Have you been lonely, Sanchia?”

  “Yes.” She hadn’t realized how lonely until she had seen Piero on that mule coming toward her. “I’ve missed you; too.”

  “It’s because you belong to me and we should be together. That’s what I told Lord Andreas,” he said solemnly.

  “And what did he say?” She lovingly smoothed Piero’s hair back from his face.

  “He said he understood and that I was going with him to Mandara.”

  Yes, Lion would understand about belonging and possessing, she thought without bitterness. As she gazed down at Piero, she was too filled with passionate gratitude to have any room for resentment. If Lion had taken much from her, he had also given back. “And you did come to Mandara.” She hugged him quickly. “And didn’t let Lord Andreas stop or rest until you got here. You’re lucky he didn’t smack that mule and send it running back to Florence.”

  Piero’s jaw was set with determination. “I wanted to see you.”

  “And I’m glad you hurried.” She rose from her knees and took his hand. “Now, come inside and I’ll get you something to eat and a bath to cleanse you of the dust of the road.”

  He hung back, looking after Lion, who was disappearing into the distance.

  “Piero.”

  “He understood, Sanchia. I didn’t think he would, but he did.”

  She nodded, her gaze following Piero’s with joy, bewilderment, and trepidation. She had been trying to develop more resistance to Lion since the day he had left Mandara but now found herself once more disarmed and uncertain. “I know, Piero.” Then she turned and pulled him gently toward the door. “I think you’ll like living here. It’s even prettier than the baker’s house.”

  “My Lord Andreas,” Rosa announced and then scurried from the salon.

  Lion frowned as he gazed after her. “What’s the matter with the wench? She looked at me as if I sported horns.”

  “She’s only timid.” Sanchia rose to her feet. “You should see the way she stares at Lorenzo.”

  “No doubt that’s why he hired her for your service. It amuses him to prey upon the fear in which he’s held.”

  “The fear is well deserved,” Sanchia said, remembering how skillfully Lorenzo had kept her from attempting to leave Mandara with a few words a little over a week before. “He’s a formidable man.”

  Lion studied her intently. “Did I detect a note of bitterness? What’s Lorenzo been doing to you while I’ve been gone?”

  “Nothing. He’s been very kind to me for the most part. He calls on me every day to bring me a book from your library, and teaches me things he thinks I need to know.”

  “What things?”

  “Oh, table manners and how to dance the pavane and the moresca and the difference between bad wine and good.” She made a face. “Giovanni would have been delighted with that lesson.” She met his gaze with bold directness. “He teaches me anything that he believes would prepare me to live in your house as your mistress.”

  “And you accepted the lessons?”

  “Knowledge is never wasted.” She paused. “Even though it may never be used in the way intended.”

  His lips tightened but he failed to rise to the challenge. “My mother tells me she called on you.”

  “Yes, to tell me she didn’t want me here.” She smiled. “And I told her I didn’t want to be here either. Consequently, we agreed that I would leave as soon as possible.”

  “You think to annoy me with your defiance? I don’t want you here either. We’ll return to Pisa next week.” He paused. “If you agree to my terms.”

  She stiffened. “Terms?”

  “I’ve been thinking this last week and … I feel something for you that is out of the ordinary for me. There is not only lust, there is …” He paused again, searching for words. “Feeling. I don’t believe I could be content now with just …” He halted again and then burst out with sudden fierceness, “Listen to me. I sound like a stupid, bumbling oaf.” He took two steps closer. “Enough of this. I want you to live in my home and sleep in my bed, not only now but for the foreseeable future. I wish you to bear my children. In return I will give you your freedom, honor, and respect. What do you say to that?”

  She stared at him, stunned. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He suddenly smiled. “Then say yes. It’s a good bargain; you’ll never find a better. I have wealth enough to give you whatever you desire, and I won’t ask you for more than I told you.”

  “What of Bianca?” she asked slowly.

  His face became shuttered. “There’s no need to hurt Bianca. She’s content here at Mandara and we’ll be equally content in Pisa.”

  “And will your mother also be content? Lorenzo said she is determined—”

  “She will surrender her ambitions in time.”

  “Or perhaps you will surrender to her ambitions … in time.”

  “Sweet Mary, I have no desire to force Bianca back to my bed.” He smiled cynically. “I was even relieved when I discovered Marco was besotted with her. It gave me an excuse to let her go her way and I to go mine.”

  “Unless you change your mind and decide your mother is right.”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

  “How do you know? Everything changes. A month ago I was a slave in Giovanni’s shop. Today I live in a fine house and Lord Andreas wishes to make me his mistress.” Her voice was shaking. “Next month or next year you may decide you want a legitimate heir for Mandara and return to beget it. Then where would I be? Or you might grow bored with me and this ‘feeling’ would disappear. Would you take my children from me and let me go to another man?” She shivered. “I don’t think I would like the life of your mistress any more than I did the life of a slave.”

  “I would not grow tired of you.”

  “How can you be certain? You have no knowledge of my mind, only my body, and you’re still a stranger to me. I don’t really know any more about you than I did when you first came to Giovanni’s shop.”

  He stiffened. “Are you telling me you’re refusing me? Perhaps you think to marry some other man who will give you the respectability you seem to crave.”

  “I have no thought of marriage. Who would marry me? I’m no longer a virgin and there are
many women more comely.” She moistened her lips. “But there’s too much risk in what you offer me. I am to give everything and you may leave me tomorrow. I’ve been at risk all my life, but this would be different. This would put my children at risk also.” She averted her gaze. “And I like Bianca. I would not want to hurt her.”

  “Cristo, not you, too? Everyone is trying to protect Bianca—Marco, my mother, you.”

  “And you. Why else would you want me to leave Mandara?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a weary shrug. “Very well, I don’t want to hurt her. God knows I’ve been careful these past thirteen years to bring no woman here to cause her shame. I saw my mother suffer enough over my father’s adulteries.” His voice suddenly vibrated with anger and exasperation as he continued, “But, by God, I want you and I will have you, Sanchia.”

  She dumbly shook her head.

  Lion’s eyes glittered with anger. “I will. You say you have no knowledge of me. Let me tell you of myself. I am not inconstant. I do not tire of things or people I value. But you don’t believe me, and it seems I must demonstrate my ardor and steadfastness. How fortunate I have you here in my own house with time to persuade you to my way of thinking.”

  “Persuade?”

  “Is that not how free women are tempted to couple with men?” He took a step closer. “You did not find me displeasing before. I believe we can assume that in future you will again find me pleasing.” His hand reached out and gently cupped her breast.

  She inhaled sharply and felt the color rush to her cheeks.

  He smiled. “I’ll tell Lorenzo to stay at the castle tomorrow and come to you myself. I also have lessons I’d like you to learn.”

  “You cannot change my mind.” She tried to ignore Lion’s hand fondling her through the fabric of her gown and hoped desperately he couldn’t feel the response that caress was kindling. “I was going to take Piero for a walk around the city.”

  “In the morning. In the afternoon I’ll send a groom to take him riding. We have a small pony in the stables that might do better for him than the mule.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “Send Rosa away also. I want no one in the house when I come.”

  “No, I don’t—”

  “If she’s still here, I’ll send her away myself.” He held her gaze with compelling force. “Don’t argue with me, Sanchia. It’s not easy for me to leave you tonight. I’ll have no interference tomorrow. Not from Rosa.” His clasp on her breast compressed gently and then released. “Not from Piero.” His hand dropped slowly away from her body and he stepped back. “No one.”

  He turned and strode toward the door. Before reaching it he stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his gaze searching her face. “You said you wouldn’t be here when I got back, but I questioned the captain of the guard, who tells me you made no attempt to leave. Why?”

  “Perhaps I was waiting for an opportunity,” she said evasively.

  He shook his head. “Too tame. You may not think I know you well, but I realize you’re not a person who waits for opportunities. You make them.”

  “I was waiting to find—” she stopped. “What difference does it make? I haven’t changed my mind. I still intend to leave Mandara.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Lorenzo suggested I might be with child. I was waiting to see if he was right.”

  His expression became arrested. “A child …” His gaze on her abdomen was a lingering caress. “And are you with child, Sanchia?”

  “I still don’t know.”

  “That would change things, would it not?” he asked thoughtfully. “A woman burdened with a child would have no easy time of it alone in the world.” He suddenly smiled. “Lorenzo did well.”

  “I don’t believe I’m with child.” She added defiantly, “And even if I am, it would only mean I’ll have to plan my departure carefully for the babe’s sake.”

  He shook his head. “You’re wrong, Sanchia. It would mean more than that if you carried my child.” His smile widened. “A great deal more than that.” He turned back to the door. “Until tomorrow.”

  When Sanchia opened the door the next afternoon it was to see Lion garbed in the same wine-colored velvet jerkin he had worn the first time she’d seen him in the piazza in Florence. She was immediately deluged with memories of that day: Lion’s power and dominance, her own servitude and fear. She wondered resentfully if he had intended to remind her by wearing the garment today.

  “Have you sent your servant away?” he asked briskly as he strode past her into the salon.

  “Yes, but only because I knew you would—what do you have there?” She noticed for the first time that he was carrying two rolled-up parchment scrolls of about two feet in length under his arm.

  He tossed one of the scrolls on the table and began to unroll the second scroll. “Sit down on the floor.”

  “What?”

  “Sit down on the floor.” He dropped down on the rug and smoothed out the parchment with careful hands. “How can I teach you, if you can’t see what I’m talking about?”

  She drew closer and looked warily down at the parchment.

  Lion reached out, grasped her wrist and drew her down to her knees beside him. “This is the second Dancer. I call her Caterina’s Dancer. You sailed to Genoa on the first Dancer I had built. This one will be much larger when it’s finished.”

  She gazed in bewilderment at the sweeping lines and minute mathematical equations inscribed on the parchment. “This is a ship?”

  “A design for a ship. The ship itself is only in the first stages at the yard in Pisa. Now.” He pointed to one of the many slots in the side of the ship. “This is where the oars will be placed. You notice this is a trireme, which means that each bench on the galley is manned by three rowers, rowing with three separate oars.”

  “There weren’t any oars on the ship that I was on.”

  “That’s because it was a round ship with fully rigged sails, not a galley. I prefer the round ship, but many merchants will ship their goods only by galley because it’s safer on the longer trips. The galley depends on the wind to carry it from one port to another, leaving the oars idle most of the time. But the moments when the oars are used are vital. Galleys don’t have to sit off a dangerous shore and perhaps be blown onto the rocks or out to sea again. They can maneuver to land at many ports not possible for a round ship and—” He stopped as he glanced up and saw her expression. “What’s wrong? Don’t you understand?”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.”

  “You said you didn’t know me.” He met her gaze. “This is my life now. I thought it best to let you learn this part of me before any other. You must stop me if I go too fast. I fear I’ll make an impatient tutor.”

  “Lessons. I thought you meant—”

  “Oh, I did.” Rueful humor twisted his lips. “But I decided this would be a better way to proceed. Not the most enjoyable but the least threatening to you. I hope you rid yourself of doubts soon as I don’t promise how long my patience will last.” He glanced down at the parchment. “There are three kinds of wood used in the building of every ship. Oak for the hull, ribs, stem, stemposts, beams, and planking; larch beams for the wide clamps and interior bracing; and fir for the masts and spars. I try to get my oak from Trevisana, but those forests are running low and I’ll soon have to look farther afield. Perhaps the Po valley will yield—”

  “I don’t need a lesson in shipbuilding in order to learn your way of thinking,” she interrupted. “My mind is awhirl with spars, masts, and triremes.”

  He looked up. “Then what do you need to know? Tell me, and I’ll try to give you what you want.”

  For the first time he was completely open to her, and she suddenly found the temptation to explore his ideas and feelings irresistible. “Why shipbuilding? Why did you not go journeying like Messer Columbus?”

  “Someone must build the ships for such enterprises. Safe ships, st
rong ships, ships that will last a journey around the world and back again.” He added simply, “I wanted it to be me.” He began to roll up the parchment. “I like the feeling of building something. From the time I was a small boy I knew only destruction. Perhaps I wanted to … I like the feel of it.”

  It was more than liking, Sanchia realized. There was an intensity, an excitement in his expression she had never seen there before. “But you talk of merchants and cargoes, not explorations.”

  “Commerce feeds discovery. Would Queen Isabella have given Columbus his ships if she hadn’t believed there would be riches for her at the end of his journey? The clink of coins is a siren call and I’m not such a fool that I want to go begging myself. A balance can be struck that will give me both.” He grinned. “As you can see, I’m an exceptionally greedy man.”

  He reached up and took the second scroll from the table and spread it out on the floor. “This is the plan for the round ship I’m building at the yard in Marseilles.”

  She vaguely remembered he had said he was away in France when the Wind Dancer was stolen. “Why did you purchase a shipyard so far away?”

  “There’s little interference from the local magistrates such as we suffer here, and the guilds are more concerned with the excellence of their members’ workmanship and less with their contributions to charity. I’ve hired a fine shipwright there who will oversee the building of the ships. I expect better production there within the year than in the yard at Pisa.”

  She hid a smile as he went on in depth with the problems of dealing with the guilds and sailmakers and caulkers. He was so absorbed in describing his ships and the procedures for their construction that he seemed to overlook completely the fact she couldn’t possibly comprehend half of what he was explaining to her.

  “Then you have to consider the problem of battle engagements. The galley is better built to withstand attack, but the round ship is better in the attack itself. You must weigh the two and decide which is best for you.”

  “I shall do so,” she said solemnly. “As soon as I have the ducats to commission the building of either.”