The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds by Iris Johansen
“And where else would she go?” Giovanni asked. “I’ll give her a roof over her head and food for her belly. She can’t expect more. I may take Bartolomeo, too, but Piero will have to go. He’s too young to be of any help.”
“You’ll not keep any of them.” Sanchia turned to Elizabet. “Go find Bartolomeo and Piero and meet me in the piazza.”
Elizabet gazed at her in confusion.
“Hurry!” Sanchia gave her a little push. “All will be well.”
“Stay,” Giovanni ordered. “Obey me, Elizabet.”
Elizabet gave him a frightened glance and fled from the shop.
Giovanni began to curse vehemently and obscenely as he turned to Sanchia. “They’ll starve in the streets. You’ll see, you arrogant bitch.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll not let them starve.” She gave him a level look over her shoulder as she moved toward the door. “And I’ll not let them be used by you either. I know what you’d do to them if I weren’t here. Bartolomeo would soon be as much a slave to you as I was and Elizabet would become your whore. I’ll see you burn in hell before I let that happen.” She turned to Lion. “We can go now.”
“Thank you.” Heavy irony laced Lion’s tone. “May I remind you that it’s you who belongs to me and not I to you?” He followed her from the shop into the street.
“No reminder is necessary.” She drew her shawl closer to ward off the chill that came as much from the emotions storming through her as the coolness following the rain. She had to plan, she thought dully, but she was so exhausted and dazed it was difficult to think. “Why did you buy me?”
“Because it suited me, a whim perhaps.”
She shook her head. “You’re not an impulsive man. I don’t think you’d do anything without a reason.”
“You find me so easy to read?” Lion asked softly. “You’d be more clever to hide that ability.”
“I have to understand you.” She turned to look at him, desperation threading her voice. “I have to try to see what you are and what you want so that I can give it to you. So that I can find a way …” She stopped and drew a shaky breath. “Are you angry with me for stealing from you? Did you buy me so that you could torture me at your leisure?”
His lips tightened. “It doesn’t amuse me to torture children.”
“I’m not a child. I’ve reached my sixteenth year.”
A sudden glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “In that case, perhaps I’ll change my mind. I’ll have to see if I can’t rummage up a few instruments in the dungeon with which to torment you when we arrive at Mandara.”
“We’re leaving Florence?” She frowned. “That may present a problem.”
“My profound apologies. You must be sure to inform me if my plans further inconvenience you.” His sarcastic expression was quickly replaced by a grim look of warning. “We’re leaving Florence tomorrow, and I’d advise you not to defy me as you did your former master.”
“You’re not like Giovanni.” Her answer was as abstracted as her gaze. “But I have to know what you want from me.”
“It’s very simple. I want a slave who’ll obey my every demand without question. Why else would I have bought you?”
“I won’t kill for you.”
He lifted a brow. “If that’s your only reservation, I believe I can accept it.”
She braced herself and then said in a little rush, “I’ll make a bargain with you.”
“Everyone in Florence appears to want to bargain with me,” he said dryly. “I can see why it’s known as a city of merchants. But I feel bound to draw attention to the fact that I’ve no need to bargain with you. I’ve just paid fifty ducats for the doubtful privilege of owning you.”
“And you wouldn’t want to lose your money, would you?” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “If you’ll let me have seventy-five ducats, I’ll promise I won’t run away from you and I’ll serve you in any way you choose with complete loyalty. No matter what you ask of me.”
Lion went still. “A threat? Do you know the punishment for a runaway slave?”
“Yes.” Her voice was uneven. “But I’d still have to do it. I couldn’t leave Elizabet and the others here unprotected. They belong to me.”
He gazed at her a long moment and she could feel the perspiration bead on the back of her neck. Dio, she was taking a chance. She had known from the moment she had seen him in the piazza he was a dangerous man.
“What do you want to do with the money?” he asked.
“Ten ducats for Bartolomeo so he can apprentice for Messer Arcolo in his print shop. Arcolo is fair, and he has no sons to carry on the business. He’ll give Bartolomeo a chance to be more than an apprentice once he realizes what a hard worker he is. Fifty ducats for Elizabet. Alessandro Benedetto, the baker’s son, would take her to wife, but his father won’t permit it unless she has at least a token dowry.”
“She has a fondness for the boy?”
Sanchia shrugged. “Elizabet has a very gentle nature. She likes Alessandro well enough and would grow to love him in time. At least, she’d be safe from Giovanni and Caprino.”
Lion’s gaze became intent. “Caprino?”
“Caprino wants to use her in one of his brothels. I won’t let that happen, but Caprino will have her if I’m not here to prevent it.”
“I see.” Lion’s lips tightened. “A very cunning man, Caprino.”
“You know him?”
“I’m beginning to know him better as time goes on.”
“He mustn’t get Elizabet. She wouldn’t live more than a year in a brothel. She’s too—” She stopped and then went on. “Fifteen ducats for Piero. Elizabet would take care of him, but I couldn’t expect Alessandro’s family to accept him without compensation.”
“A dowry for Piero, too?” Lion murmured. “I’m beginning to feel like a matchmaker.”
“It is not much money for a rich man,” she said urgently. “And it would mean they’d all be safe and cared for.”
“And give you no reason to run back here.”
She nodded earnestly. “I told you I keep my promises. I’ll be whatever you want me to be, if you’ll only help them.”
His gaze searched her face. “Complete obedience without question?”
She nodded.
“Absolute loyalty to me for as long as I own you?”
“Yes.”
A crooked smile touched his lips. “Seventy-five ducats. So that’s the price for the purchase of a soul these days.”
She was bewildered. “What?”
“Never mind.” He shifted his gaze from her face to the piazza a short distance away. “You shall have your seventy-five ducats.”
Sanchia felt dizzy with relief. “Now?”
“Why not?” He nodded at a slim, elegant man seated at table beneath the arcade. “I’m sure my friend Lorenzo will be overjoyed to go with you to settle your flock in their new havens. He has such a sweet nature.”
Sanchia’s eyes widened. “You’re jesting.” She was sure there was nothing sweet about the man sitting at the table gazing down at the open book on the table in front of him. Neither a sweet temperament nor good looks, she thought as she stared at him. His dark brown hair was frosted with silver at the temples, his nose was too long and his complexion swarthy. The hollowed planes of his face and his deepset eyes reminded her vaguely of Fra Savonarola, who had been burned in the Piazza della Signoria when she was a child. Then he suddenly glanced up and Sanchia tensed. The man’s gray eyes did not burn with a fanatical fervor as had the monk’s but were as remote from human emotion as the stars on a winter night.
He closed the book and, as they approached, his gaze ran over Sanchia in cool appraisal. “She’s younger than I thought. Will she be adequate?”
“She’d better be.” Lion grimaced. “She’s becoming a very expensive acquisition. If we don’t get out of Florence soon, I may have to sell Mandara to pay for her.”
Lorenzo stood up and bowed mockingly. “Lorenzo Va
A hint of mischief crossed Lion’s face. “As a matter of fact, there is a service you can do her. How kind of you to offer.”
“There they are.” Sanchia had spied Elizabet, Bartolomeo, and Piero across the piazza. “I’ll go get them and explain …” Her words trailed away as she started off at a run toward the children.
Lorenzo’s gaze followed Sanchia across the wide piazza. She reached the children and began speaking quickly and with great urgency. “You haven’t, by any chance, bought those other waifs, too?”
“Not exactly. But it appears our Sanchia has a very motherly nature and wishes to get her brood settled before she leaves the city. Go with her and spend what you need to make sure the children are safe.” He frowned. “And get her something to eat. She looks half starved.”
“Our Sanchia?”
Lion shrugged. “My Sanchia, then. It seems reasonable to set her mind at rest before taking her to Solinari.”
“Very reasonable,” Lorenzo said solemnly. “I can see that you’d never want your slave to suffer the distresses of worry.”
“You find it amusing?” Lion asked. “Gold doesn’t always buy what we want, and I need her loyalty.”
“And you think settling these three children will purchase what you want from her?”
Lion’s gaze flew to Sanchia. She was kneeling on the flagstones beside the smallest child, speaking persuasively, her features illuminated with such a loving radiance that Lion found himself unable to look away from her. “Yes,” he said slowly. “This will buy me what I want.”
Three
Where are you taking me?” Sanchia asked as she hurried to keep up with Lorenzo’s long strides.
“The casa of Giulia Marzo,” Lorenzo answered. “We’re staying there while we’re in Florence.”
“I’ve heard of her. She’s a famous courtesan and has many rich lovers. Is my lord Andreas rich? I guess he must be or he wouldn’t have been able to pay so much for me. He mentioned a place called Mandara. Is that where we’re going when we leave Florence? I’ve never been away from Florence since we came here when I was three. That’s when I was sold to Giovanni and—”
“Enough!” Lorenzo sighed. “Don’t you ever stop talking? You’ve chattered unceasingly since we left the baker’s house.”
“I always talk when I’m frightened.” Sanchia smiled tremulously. “And I’m very frightened right now. I feel … strange.”
“You didn’t appear frightened when you were arguing with that baker about your pretty Elizabet’s dowry.”
“That was different. Messer Benedetto had to be made to realize what a bargain he was getting in Elizabet. He has a very prosperous shop and could make a much better match for Alessandro. I was worried that if he wasn’t totally satisfied with Elizabet he wouldn’t accept Piero.” She turned to look at him. “Thank the saints you were there. You helped to settle it far more quickly than I’d hoped.”
“Me?” He lifted a brow. “I said nothing.”
“I know, but that didn’t matter. You made him feel uneasy and he wanted you gone. I think you must make most people uneasy.”
“I don’t appear to intimidate you,” he said dryly. “Did no one ever tell you that it’s not wise to be so frank? Many men wouldn’t like to be told their presence makes one uneasy.”
She looked at him in surprise. “But you don’t mind. You’ve lived with it so long it’s become a part of you.”
“You’re very perceptive.” He studied her face. “You read people well. I noticed that with Messer Arcolo and then again with Benedetto. You sought out their desires and motives and then used them to suit yourself.”
“It was necessary,” she said simply. “Sometimes our wits are the only weapons we have. Haven’t you found that to be true, Messer Lorenzo?”
“Yes.” He was silent a moment. “But I wouldn’t attempt to manipulate Lion as you did the good baker. It might prove dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I’ve given him my pledge.” She tried to smile. “But it would make me feel better if you’d tell me something about Lord Andreas. I’ve never belonged to anyone but Giovanni and that wasn’t like being a slave at all.”
“Indeed? Because he was so kind to you?”
She shook her head. “Oh no, Giovanni is too selfish to be kind to anyone. It’s too much trouble for him. When I was a child I resented him, but when I came to realize what a stupid man he is it was easier.” She shrugged. “All I had to do was give him what made him comfortable and he would leave me alone.”
“Manipulation again,” Vasaro murmured. “Taking in three children off the street doesn’t seem the act of a selfish man.”
“I had to convince him that it would be a purely selfish thing to do,” Sanchia said. “Bartolomeo and Elizabet are brother and sister and lived next door to Giovanni. When their parents died of the fever three years ago they had no relations to help them and I couldn’t let them be tossed into the streets. So I told Giovanni how clever everyone would think him if he took them into the shop. It would be as if he had three slaves instead of one—and without having to pay an extra ducat for them. I promised I’d see to it they were no trouble and that I’d share my food with them.”
“Evidently you kept your word. You’re skin and bones.”
She made a face. “It didn’t work. There was never enough food to go around. Then when Piero came to live with us, I knew something would have to be done. I was a slave, so I could work for no one but Giovanni, and every time I asked him for extra money he would threaten to throw the children out.”
“So you began to steal.” Vasaro’s tone was expressionless. “That particular bit of charity could have cost you your hands.”
She winced. “I know, but it wasn’t charity.” They started across the Ponte Vecchio, which was lined almost exclusively with the shops of prosperous silk merchants and goldsmiths. Sanchia saw none of them as she gazed into the cloudy waters of the Arno. “They were my family. I was afraid but I’d still do it again. I was so alone before they came.”
“And now you’re alone again.”
“Nothing lasts forever.” She added philosophically, “I would have had to do something to protect Elizabet soon anyway. She’s too pretty and that’s a danger for a woman. And Giovanni was drinking more and more and the business was failing and that meant Bartolomeo would have had to take a position elsewhere.”
“And Piero?”
“Piero …” Her expression became wistful. “I hoped I could keep Piero for a while.” She shook her head and blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. How stupid to cry now when she had managed to stay dry-eyed all through their farewells. Elizabet wept when confronted with any change, and Sanchia had seen tears in Bartolomeo’s eyes when they had left him with Messer Arcolo. But Piero hadn’t cried. He had only gazed at her with those fierce blue eyes and grasped her hand so tightly it had hurt for several minutes after Sanchia and Lorenzo had left the baker’s shop. “But Piero will be safe with Elizabet. She’s very loving and—” Her voice broke and she drew a deep breath. “They’ll all be much better off than they were with Giovanni.”
“And what of you?” Lorenzo’s gaze searched her face. “Do you think you’re better off too?”
“I don’t know.” She looked directly at him. “Am I?”
“I, too, do not know the answer.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Lion has never had a slave before. It’s going to be interesting to watch his reaction to the situation.”
“And you’ll like that, won’t you? I think you must always stand back and watch as if we’re all players for your entertainment.” She was silent a moment and then asked, “If he doesn’t have any other slaves, why did he buy me?”
“I think I’ll let him tell you his plans for you.”
She grinned coaxingly. “Don’t you want to watch my reaction, too? If you tell me, I’ll promise you that my response will be very satisfying.”
L
“I’m sorry.” The vitality in her face faded and she suddenly looked like a weary child. “I suppose it’s become second nature. It’s not that I mean to …” She stopped and then continued haltingly, “I’m afraid. He frightens me.”
“Lion? You certainly didn’t act frightened when you persuaded him to provide a handsome dowry for your little friends. On the contrary, you were exceptionally bold.”
“Only because it was something I had to do.” She moistened her lips. “He makes me feel …” She paused, searching for words. “I feel like I do in that last minute before I steal a fat purse. Scared and trembling but excited too.”
“Hmmm. Interesting.”
“Help me.” Her hand clutching the wool shawl at her breast tightened. “I didn’t feel helpless with Giovanni, but I do with Lord Andreas.”
“Why should I help you? Lion is my friend and you’re nothing to me.” He spoke with complete detachment.
Sanchia’s hopes plummeted. “I can’t think of any reason why you should help me.” She paused, considering. “Unless it’s because you’d find it more amusing to make things a little easier for me. A scared mouse scurrying around Lord Andreas wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining for you.”
He suddenly chuckled. “You are anything but a scared mouse.” He paused. “Lion’s fair. Serve him well and he’ll not misuse you.”
Sanchia felt a surge of relief as she thought she recognized the slightest break in the wall that Lorenzo Vasaro used to distance himself from everyone around him. “He has the manner of a great lord. Is he very rich?”
He was silent a moment, and she began to think he wasn’t going to answer. “He’s lord of the city-state of Mandara. He has great wealth but only the one fief. His father was a condottiere and raised Lion to follow after him. Lorenzo de’ Medici gave Lion’s father Mandara in payment for waging war against one of his less friendly neighbors.”
“Where is Mandara?”
“To the south. Between Florence and Pisa.”