The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds

by Iris Johansen

  “You’re trembling.” Lion’s hand tightened on Sanchia’s as they walked up the steps to the cathedral. “There’s no reason to be frightened.” He smiled. “After you’ve braved the plague, marriage to me cannot be so bad.”

  “It’s not fear.” Sanchia moistened her lips with her tongue. “I don’t know why I feel so uneasy.”

  “Are you not content with this marriage?”

  She nodded. “More. I am happy with this marriage. I love you. I will always love you, caro.”

  He leaned forward and brushed his lips to her temple. “As I will always love you.” He stopped as they entered the dimness of the cathedral. “Wait here. I will talk to the priest.” He genuflected and moved swiftly down the aisle.

  She watched him walk down the marble aisle toward the priest, who had turned away from the altar and was gazing curiously at them. Lion was all that was strong, forceful, and beloved. She had never dreamed she would possess a love so powerful and passionate as this. Why then was she feeling this sudden anxiety at the thought of linking her life to Lion’s?

  Perhaps it was because she had read too many stories of noble courtly love and her own love was so very much of the earth and the living.

  A ray of sunlight struck the stained-glass windows, and as it passed through, it turned into a rainbow, effulgently bathing Lion and the robed priest. The scent of flowers, incense, and candles drifted to Sanchia, enfolding her in their heady fragrance.

  Lion turned away from the priest and held out his hand to her.

  She genuflected and started down the aisle, her gaze fixed on Lion’s face.

  Then he smiled at her and she was suddenly filled with a sense of wonder and a joy as radiant as the light streaming through the windows. The radiance swept through her, lifting her up, until she felt as if she was sparkling with the same jewellike brilliance as the light surrounding Lion and the priest.

  Dear God, it was so simple. Why hadn’t she understood before what was so clear now?

  Love, like life, was composed of plateaus and valleys, of serene silences as well as the clarion peal of trumpets. Pain and turmoil were necessary.… How else would they learn to appreciate moments such as this?

  Splendor.

  Twenty

  Why have you chosen to meet me here?” Damari gazed at Giulia with suspicion. “Why not at your own casa?”

  “This is a pleasant enough inn, a safe distance from Florence.” Giulia turned away from the window overlooking the stable yard. “I see you’ve brought a sizeable detachment of your men. I assumed it would be so.”

  “I will not lose Andreas or the woman again.”

  “But you cannot lose what you do not have.” Giulia paused. “Yet.”

  “I will have them.”

  “If the price is high enough.” She motioned to the men in the courtyard. “And you’ll not take them away from me with those numbers. I have the money to muster thrice this force to guard what is mine.”

  “You? A whore?”

  “Did you not recognize Santini? He’s only a sample of what I’ve taken from Caprino. I shall soon be the most powerful woman in Florence. Caprino was a clever man and I learned much from observing him over the years.”

  “I do not deal with women.”

  “I know. You prefer to abuse them.” She shrugged. “I’ve not forgiven you for Laurette. It will drive my price higher.”

  Damari hesitated. “You have them? Truly?”

  “In the palm of my hand. They came to me to ask me to help them lure you into their net. They offered me five hundred ducats. I warned them it was not enough to satisfy me, but Lion was foolish enough to believe me when I finally agreed.”

  “And how much would satisfy you?”

  “Fifteen hundred ducats.”

  “Ridiculous. You’ll take far less.”

  She shook her head. “If you want Andreas and his whore, you will pay my price.”

  Damari seethed with fury. The greedy slut meant what she said. “Where are they?”

  “Safe from you.” She smiled. “But not from me.”

  Damari’s hands closed into fists at his sides. “I will pay a thousand ducats, you filthy strumpet.”

  “I don’t like being insulted. The price will now be sixteen hundred ducats.”

  “You daughter of filth, you cannot—” Damari, seeing her expression, tried to smother his rage. “I will pay your price.”

  “Excellent.”

  “But I do not have that large an amount with me. You’ll have to wait for payment. When I return to Solinari I’ll send you the fee.”

  She laughed in genuine amusement. “I am to trust you?” She shook her head. “By all means go back to Solinari, but without what you came for.”

  “I tell you, I do not have the ducats here.”

  “Then we will have to think of something else.” She was silent a moment. “I will bring them to you at Solinari. We will exchange the merchandise for the ducats on the spot.”

  “How will you get them there? Andreas is no fool.”

  “But he trusts me.” She added, “With reservations. It’s difficult for a man to believe a woman who has given him pleasure would betray him.”

  “I want his woman too. For such a price I’ll not be cheated of her.”

  “The woman also,” Giulia agreed. “God knows I have no fondness for her.”

  “How will you do it?”

  “As you so delicately pointed out, I am a whore and therefore familiar with many powders and potions to make the women in my house more compliant. A little bigger dosage and Lion and his little slave will sleep all the way to Solinari.” She lifted a brow. “Unless you want me to kill them? It’s all the same to me.”

  “No,” Damari said. “I want them alive.”

  “I thought that would be your wish. Well, you’ll soon have them both at Solinari to do with as you please.”

  Damari felt a sweet surge of pleasure that almost submerged his anger and frustration at the arrogance of the bitch. Well, perhaps the whore would have a surprise waiting for her when she rode through the gates of Solinari. She had a streak of iron within her that might be very exciting to break. “When?”

  “Give me a day or two to ease their suspicions and then I’ll slip the powders in their wine.” She moved toward the door. “It can be no longer, as they’re expecting me to receive a message from you any day.”

  “Then in a week’s time?”

  She nodded as she opened the door. “If all goes well, you can expect them to be delivered to you one day next week.”

  “Why not slip the branches into the pile meant for the fires in their bedchambers?” Luigi asked. “You said the smoke would kill.”

  “It’s not a certain enough method,” Lorenzo said. “It is August and a fire is not needed often. We might wait weeks for a fire to be lit and even then, if the chimney is clean and draws well or if they do not come too close, the fumes might only make them ill. No, it’s best to use the branch as a spit to roast the meat for the table. The wood of the branch will poison the food as it cooks.”

  Luigi stooped and picked up one of the long branches, gazing at it in fascination. “What bush is it that bears death as well as pretty flowers?”

  “The oleander.” Lorenzo smiled at him. “A very useful plant. There’s not one part of it that’s not deadly. One leaf will kill a man. Even the nectar of those ‘pretty’ flowers will send a man to his grave.”

  “You’re sure they’ll get enough poison in the meat to do the task?”

  “No, but it’s our best chance.” Lorenzo lifted his goblet to his lips and gazed at Luigi over the rim. “Now you remember what you’re to do?”

  “I’m not stupid. You’ve told me enough times,” Luigi said sourly. “I slip the branches into the kitchen woodpile tomorrow morning.”

  “But today you make sure the chimney in the kitchen is drawing strongly.” Lorenzo added grimly, “Even if you have to sweep it yourself. If you don’t, I may find myse
lf as dead as His Holiness since I’ll be tending the spit.”

  “You know the scullery maid usually tends the spit.”

  “Tomorrow I will tend the spit. Create a new sauce with which to baste the meat and insist to Simonedo that you cannot trust the maid with the task. That will give you a reason to keep others away from the hearth. We don’t want anyone breathing the smoke and becoming ill before the meat is done. Immediately after the meat goes on the spit you claim illness and leave the kitchen. I’ll slip away as soon as the meat leaves the kitchen and join you here. Be ready to depart Rome at once.”

  “A new sauce is not created overnight,” Luigi said, outraged and ignoring all the details except the one most important to him. “It takes time and many efforts before the right mixture is blended in the right proportions. Anyone who knows anything about fine cooking knows you cannot create a sauce—”

  “Perhaps for common, ordinary cooks, but you tell me you’re extraordinary.”

  “You know I’m extraordinary.”

  “Then prove it. A new sauce by tomorrow morning.”

  Luigi scowled. “You believe you are very clever. Well, I refuse to commit the sin of desecrating one of my dishes. We will murder the Borgias next week.”

  Lorenzo shook his head. “Everyone knows Cesare is importuning his father for fresh funds for a new campaign. He may not be in Rome next week.”

  “But I cannot concoct …” Luigi frowned fiercely. “Honey. Perhaps I can use honey with just a sprinkle of cinnamon …”

  Lorenzo smiled with satisfaction as he leaned lazily back in his chair and stretched his legs out before him.

  “Why is Giulia being so kind to me?” Sanchia asked as she turned in a circle before Lion. “Look at this gown. It must be one of the finest in her wardrobe, yet she not only gifted me with it but also sent a servant to alter it. Do you not think that’s strange?”

  “It’s a very pretty gown. I like those blue ribbons on the bodice. Perhaps white does not become her as it does you.”

  “She looks beautiful in anything.” Sanchia made a face. “And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  “I notice only the beauty of my own wife, as is proper in a virtuous married man.” A glint of mischief appeared in his dark eyes. “Though I admit I prefer you without the gown. It could be that Giulia is not being kind to you, but cruel to me.” He tilted his head and looked at her critically. “Yes, you’re entirely too fully clothed. Send the gown back to her and we’ll—”

  A knock interrupted and they both turned as the door opened to Giulia’s touch. She carried a silver tray which held three silver goblets and smiled as she moved gracefully toward them. “That gown looks enchanting on you, Sanchia. It never suited me.” She set the tray on the polished table and picked up two of the goblets, handing one to Sanchia and one to Lion. “I found this Mandara wine you brought the last time you came to see me, Lion. You always liked it better than any wine Florence could boast.” She picked up her own goblet. “Drink,” she said softly, her smile lighting the luminous beauty of her face. “And then I’ll tell you of the good news that’s come to my ears regarding our friend Damari.”

  The whoreson chimney was not drawing well!

  Dio, only minutes ago the flames had been drawing perfectly, and now it was casting thin billows of smoke into the kitchen!

  Lorenzo turned his face away from the spit on which the honey-basted lamb was roasting and took a deep breath. Then, holding that breath, he turned back and leaned closer to the flames to peer up the chimney and try to see where the blockage occurred.

  “How goes the lamb?”

  Lorenzo turned to see the head cook, Simonedo, frowning impatiently at him.

  Lorenzo hurriedly averted his gaze and muttered, “It’s almost done, only a few more minutes, but the chimney …”

  “What? Speak up, dolt.”

  “The chimney does not draw well.”

  “It’s probably only another pigeon.” Simonedo turned away. “There’s a crook in the chimney and every now and then a pigeon flies down and becomes caught. We’ll send a sweep up tomorrow to remove it. Douse the fire after the lamb is done.”

  A pigeon. Mother of God, a pigeon!

  Lorenzo smiled grimly as he settled before the fire, carefully blocking the fumes from the rest of the kitchen with his body and trying to avert his face and take shallow breaths.

  Cristo, if this smoke continued to billow, it was not only the lamb that would be done this night.

  The pounding on the door was oddly erratic.

  When Luigi threw open the door he saw Lorenzo on his doorstep.

  “Santa Maria, why are you knocking? You’ve never showed me such courtesy since that first night you barged into my life. Where have you been? You should have been here hours ago. Did all go well?” Luigi grinned. “My sauce was superb. It’s too bad the duke and His Holiness won’t appreciate it. I was tempted to stay and hear the outcry.” He paused. “Why are you just standing there? Come in and I’ll give you a glass of spiced wine and you can tell me how Cesare choked on his own bile. You told me not to stay, but you couldn’t resist lingering yourself, could you? It’s just like you to deny me the pleasure but take it yourself.”

  “I did not stay.”

  “Then where have you been?”

  “I became … lost.”

  “Lost? How could you become—” Luigi broke off and suddenly reached out a hand and pulled Lorenzo into the room and into the circle of light from the candle. He inhaled sharply. Greasy sweat coated Lorenzo’s face and blank, dilated pupils dominated the gray of his eyes. “What happened?”

  “A pigeon. Is that not amusing? A pigeon … in the chimney. I thought of everything but—”

  “Why did you not leave or make some excuse to douse the fire?”

  “We were too close.”

  “Stupido. Idiotto.” Luigi’s dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. “You tell me to stop and get out if anything goes wrong and then you do this. You have the brains of an ox and no more sense than a beheaded chicken.”

  “I truly wish you would stop … calling me vile names.” Lorenzo swayed, his eyes glazing. “I’m sure it’s not proper behavior”—his knees buckled—“toward … a dying man.”

  “Madonna Giulia Marzo is at the gates with a wagon, my lord.”

  Damari felt a rush of excitement. “I’ve been expecting her.” He stood up and motioned for the lackey to leave. “Let her in.”

  “She has a company of men with her.”

  “What!”

  “She says she will not enter your gates without protection.”

  “How many men?”

  “Fifteen.”

  The bitch was craftier than he had thought. Fifteen men were no threat to the palazzo, but there was a possibility he would have to let her return safely to her casa in Florence.

  Damari cursed steadily beneath his breath as he strode out of the palazzo and across the grounds, his gaze fixed on the multitude of torches held by the soldiers beyond the gates.

  He stood just inside the gates and shouted. “You have brought me what you promised?”

  Giulia Marzo rode her horse forward from her position beside the wagon and smiled at him in the torchlight. “In the bed of the wagon. See for yourself.”

  “I will. Draw your soldiers away from the wagon.” He turned to the guard. “Open the gate. Four of you come out and surround me while I’m beyond the gates.”

  A moment later he was kneeling on the hay in the wagon and peering down at Lionello Andreas and Sanchia. They appeared to be in a deep sleep, but he had to make quite sure.

  He raised his hand and then brought it cracking down with vicious force onto Sanchia’s left cheek.

  She did not stir.

  “Satisfied?” Giulia edged her horse closer. “My powders do not fail me. Now, my money.”

  “Come in and get it.” He smiled. “But naturally I can’t permit your hired soldiers to accompany you.”

&nb
sp; “Then I cannot permit you to take my merchandise.” Her lips tightened. “I’ve gone to much trouble to bring them here, and you’re beginning to make me angry. Perhaps I should forget our bargain and return them to Florence. I’m sure Lion is desperate enough to take your life to reinstate his offer of five hundred ducats.”

  “No!” He jumped down from the wagon. “Open the gates,” he called out as he strode through the soldiers toward the gate. “Someday, Madonna Giulia, I’ll take great pleasure in introducing you to my friend, Fra Luis. As a matter of fact, he’s at the palazzo now awaiting the arrival of Andreas and Sanchia. A pity you cannot stay and join us.”

  He stood aside and watched as the wagon and the riders rode through the gates.

  He took a step nearer to the wagon, his gaze searching Andreas’s face. “They’re lying very still. You haven’t killed them, have you? I want them ali—”

  A sword was pointed only inches from his throat!

  Lion’s dark eyes glared fiercely at him as his blade jabbed at Damari’s throat. How had that whoreson Andreas snatched a sword from beneath the hay and moved so swiftly? Damari’s hand dropped instinctively to the hilt of his own sword.

  “Do not draw it,” Andreas said coldly. “I’d like nothing better than to slit your gullet.”

  “To me!” Damari screamed. “You fools! To me!”

  “They’re occupied at the moment,” Lion said as he again pricked Damari’s throat with the sword. “That was my first instruction to Giulia’s men. As soon as we were through the gates, a sword point at the back of every guard.”

  Andreas’s words were confirmed by the glance Damari darted them out of the corner of his eye. “You fool, there are more guards in the palazzo. You cannot fight all of them. We outnumber you.”

  “You won’t for long.” Andreas motioned to one of the soldiers, who immediately rode to the open gates and waved a torch in a wide arc three times. “There are some seventy-seven men waiting in the woods who will be here shortly. That should be a sufficient number since your men are hired men just as are these soldiers of Giulia’s. They owe no loyalty to you, and I imagine the first thing they’ll do once you’re dead is strike a bargain so they can have their share of the sacking of the palazzo. They certainly won’t waste time trying to vanquish a dead man’s foes.”