The three women left Bianca’s apartment and hurried to escape the house. Antonio was keeping the door that afternoon. Seeing the trio, he opened the portal of the palazzo and then turned his head the other way. The trio exited, but Orianna said to the servingman, “Leave this place with us. I will take you into my personal employ.”
“Grazie, gracious lady,” Antonio replied, closing the door behind them and following them out into the street. He helped the lady and his young mistress into the waiting Pietro d’Angelo litter. Then, walking beside Agata, the servants followed along.
The litter made its way to a busy market square, where it was set down.
“There are litters for hire here,” Orianna said softly to Agata. “Find a bearer called Ilario and tell him Signora Pietro d’Angelo is in need of his services.”
“At once,signora,” the servingwoman responded and hurried off. She returned a few minutes later with two litter bearers carrying a single chair litter.
The grizzled older man in front was smiling from ear to ear.“Signora!”he greeted Orianna. “It has been a long time. How may I serve you today?”
Orianna stepped from her family litter. “You may take me home,” she instructed him. “Antonio, you will attend me, please. Agata, get in with your mistress.” Then she murmured lowly to her head litter bearer. “Take my daughter and her servant to Santa Maria del Fiore. Tell them she is a kinswoman to the Reverend Mother Baptista, and seeks both shelter and sanctuary. Say I will come to speak with the Reverend Mother myself tomorrow.”
The Pietro d’Angelos’ head litter bearer nodded silently. Orianna climbed into her hired transport. With Antonio by its side, it was borne from the busy market piazza while her family’s vehicle took off in another direction, the four bearers moving quickly through the noisy, narrow streets towards one of the city’s gates. Seeing the city for the first time, Bianca was fascinated in spite of herself. The noise was incredible, the smells many and varied. Some pleasant, and some not so. Vendors hawked their wares. Children played in the puddles, and on the cobbles. Dogs, some mongrels, some with expensive collars, roamed freely. Her bearers never broke stride but moved swiftly along through one of the city’s gates. Down the highway and around a curve, they then stopped before a walled enclosure. The litter was set down, and the head litter bearer rapped on a small, almost invisible portal.
A tiny grille opened in the door. “Yes?” a voice inquired.
“I come from Signora Pietro d’Angelo, who is kin to the Reverend Mother Baptista. She wishes the lady I bring to you, and her servant, to have sanctuary. She will come herself tomorrow and speak with the Reverend Mother.”
“Wait!” the voice commanded.
Several long minutes passed, and then the small portal opened and a tall, austere nun stepped forth. She went to the litter, drew the curtains aside, and asked, “Who are you, my child?”
“I am Bianca Pietro d’Angelo, Reverend Mother,” Bianca replied.
“You are Orianna’s eldest daughter?”
“Yes, Reverend Mother.”
“The wife of Sebastiano Rovere?”
“Yes, Reverend Mother.”
“You wish sanctuary for yourself and your servingwoman?”
“Oh yes, please, Reverend Mother!” Bianca’s voice shook.
“Come in, then, my child, and your woman too,” the nun responded.
“Oh, thank you!” Bianca cried. “Thank you!”
Agata climbed from the litter and helped her mistress out, and together the three women entered through the gate into the convent proper.
“Tell your mistress,” Reverend Mother Baptista said to the head litter bearer, “that I shall very much look forward to her visit. And certainly you and your fellows know not to tell anyone where you have been.”
“We have served our master and mistress for over twenty years, Reverend Mother,” he told her. “We understand what is expected of us.”
“God and his blessed Mother be with you, then,” the nun said, blessing them.
Then she turned back, going through the small door in the convent wall. It closed behind her. She now turned to her waiting guests. “I will take you to the guesthouse that is reserved for ladies remaining with us for a time, as I expect you will be here a while. The convent grounds within these walls are safe for you to walk. Meals will be brought to you. You are expected to join us for the morning Mass and for Vespers in the evening. Are you skilled in sewing or embroidery, my child?”
“Both, Reverend Mother,” Bianca answered. “And my Agata too.”
“Good,” the nun said. “You may help us with certain pieces that our convent is commissioned to do by wealthy families and churches. Or if you are able, you are invited to join those of this flock who garden, but neither you nor your servant will be permitted to be idle while you are here. Too much slothfulness will not help you to grow strong again, and if you are your mother’s daughter, you are a strong woman beneath that aura of frailty and fear now surrounding you.”
Bianca was rather startled by the nun’s practical and candid speech. She had not thought that a woman from a convent far removed from the world would be so. She had always believed they spent their days in nothing more than prayer and fasting. She was quickly disabused of these notions in the days that followed.
The guesthouse to which she and Agata were shown was comfortable without being ostentatious. The furniture was sturdy and sensible. There were two bedchambers, a small dining room, and a salon. The bed in her bedchamber was hung with simple blue linen curtains. It had a trundle for Agata. There were two casement windows looking out upon an herb garden and a tiled fireplace. The floor was wood and had a woven rush rug.
