“There is a fortune to be made with the wench!” Alberto insisted. “If you could see how she takes that animal’s doughy cock with little cries of pleasure, and then wiggles her plump ass, you would understand. The public would pay through the nose to see such a spectacle. Give her to me! I will give you half of all I earn with her, and you can give that to your favored convent. No one need know that we are the ones profiting.”
Bianca looked at her stepson with distaste.Madre di Dios!He favored his father in his deviant tastes, which was unfortunate, but then with an unpleasant flash she remembered him on her wedding night. Catching herself, Bianca drew a deep breath. “Alberto, your brother will sell Nudara for me to the highest bidder with the monies to go to Santa Maria del Fiore. If, as you say, there is a great demand for this creature, then a publicly announced but private auction will bring out many bidders, and a great deal of gold.”
He looked at her with Sebastiano’s cold dark eyes. “I want Nudara, and if you do not give her to me, I will—”
“Will what, you pitiful little monster? You are about to make a great match, I am told. I wonder how they would feel knowing the kind of man they are entrusting with their virgin daughter. And you will know how to be certain she is a virgin, Alberto, won’t you?” Bianca said softly, but her eyes were like blue ice. “Of course, if your dear father was blackmailing them as he did my father, your marriage may not take place at all. The girl is a very wealthy heiress—pretty, I am told, and a desirable match. I am astounded they would choose you for her husband.”
“We are in love!” Alberto said.
“Then be satisfied that you and Stefano will split your father’s considerable wealth instead of having to share it with me. There are things I know that your family would prefer not be revealed to the public eye. Do you understand me?”
He nodded but then said, “When did you become so hard, Bianca?”
She laughed. “I am not hard, Alberto, except where I must be. If I could survive your father’s treatment of me, however, I can and will survive anything, including your attempts to force me to your will.”
“This is not how things are done,” the lawyer Guardini said, pursing his lips.
“Stefano, you are the eldest. What say you?” Bianca asked.
“I will see that your wishes are carried out, Bianca,” he told her. He turned to the lawyer. “She is to have exactly what she asks for, her dower portion plus interest, and the monies from the sale of the slave will go to Santa Maria del Fiore. The other slaves held by my father will be freed, and given a year’s wages as if they were free men.”
“The di Medici bank will decide the interest owed,” Bianca told them sweetly. Then she said, “Thank you, Stefano, for your generosity.”
“I agree,” Stefano said. “Brother?”
“I agree as well,” Alberto replied, defeated.
“Then is our business done?” Bianca asked the lawyer.
“I must draw up the papers making these changes,” Guardini said sourly.
“Please feel free to use the library. There is parchment in the drawer of the table you can use. And ink too. When you are done I will read it over, and if it suits me I will sign it. You will stay the night, of course,signores.”
She could read; why was he not surprised? Guardini wondered. He had heard that Sebastiano Rovere’s widow was a properly raised woman who was meek and obedient. This woman did not fit such a description at all. He had not heard until his client’s death that his wife had left him. He was not a part of Rovere’s circle of friends, and the truth was he hadn’t wished to be. Rovere had wanted his own representation to be competent and dull. Renzo Guardini was just that, and content to be so.
Rovere’s widow was like her father. He realized that, in spite of himself, he was admiring of her. He remembered the silk merchant seated in his chambers with Rovere, dictating the terms of the marriage contract. It was he who had insisted that if Rovere predeceased his daughter, half of his estate would go to the widow. Guardini had been shocked by such a request, and even more shocked that Rovere agreed to the terms. His client had just laughed and said, “If she can outlive me, she will have earned it.” The silk merchant had nodded grimly.
Well, she had outlived him, but chose not to profit from her husband’s death. He shook his head. Yet having met Bianca Pietro d’Angelo now, Guardini could not help but consider if she had a hand in her husband’s death. She would not be the first woman to pay for the assassination of her spouse. But then where would she have gotten the monies for such a deed? She had been in hiding from Rovere, and her honest surprise at learning she had inherited half of his estate, an estate she would not accept, really ruled out any malice on her part. No. Rovere’s wife had simply benefited from the man’s ability to make enemies. And the belief that he could escape justice had been Rovere’s downfall.
The lawyer set to work writing a document to be signed by Bianca and by Rovere’s two sons, who were now each twice as rich as they had believed themselves to be. It took him some time, for he was not used to doing such work himself but rather assigning it to his notary, but by late afternoon he had written the document out four times. A copy for Bianca; one for each of her stepsons; and another for the court. The document stated that Bianca Pietro d’Angelo renounced the bequest made to her by her late husband, Sebastiano Rovere, with two exceptions. Her dower with interest calculated by the di Medici bank would be returned to her, not her father; and the slave woman known as Nudara would be sold, the profit from such sale to go to the convent of Santa Maria del Fiore.
“It’s a simple enough document, but quite legal,” Guardini said. “You are empowered to act for yourself as Rovere’s widow. Sign here,signora.”
Bianca signed the four documents, passing them next to Stefano, who then pushed the parchments to his younger brother. All three parties having signed, Guardini put his own signature and seal to the documents. Then he gave one to Bianca and one each to Stefano and Alberto Rovere. They then adjourned to the dining room for the meal, and afterwards were shown to their chambers by Filomena. The next morning the three men departed after being fed a simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and wine.
“Will you be returning to Florence now?” Stefano asked her as his horse was brought from the stable.
“No, Luce Stellare is my home now,” she told him. “I am content.”
“Your father will want to make another marriage for you, Bianca. I hope it will be a happier one.”
“I want no more husbands,” Bianca said quietly. “Tell me, Stefano, do you know how your father found me? Few knew where I was.”
Stefano Rovere nodded. “Yes, I do, although I am ashamed to tell you,” he said, looking embarrassed.
“But you will nonetheless,” Bianca said.
He nodded again. “He kidnapped your brother Georgio, off the street one afternoon, brought him to the house, and showed him that damned donkey violating a whore. Your brother fainted with the shock of what he saw, for the whore screamed and screamed. When he was brought around to consciousness, my father threatened to put the donkey to Georgio unless he found out where you were hiding and told him. Of course the boy was terrified. He did my father’s bidding. I know this because my father insisted I be in the chamber when the violence was done so your brother would not run. And afterwards I took Georgio home. I am sorry, Bianca, and I am very ashamed.”
