The Wind Dancer (32 page)

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."