“I’ll wear my boots,” she replied.
“The trick to getting in and out of the house at that hour without attracting attention is to be quick, and to be stealthy. I’ll meet you at the front door, Bianca.”
“I’ll be there before you, Georgio,” she told him. “Do not be late.”
He laughed. “Why didn’t you ask Marco?” he wondered.
“The debt Marco owes me can never be repaid,” Bianca replied to his query. “He has suffered over it, and I would not give him any more pain than he gives himself,” she explained to her younger brother.
He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
There! It was done. If she was fortunate, she would get a passing glimpse of Amir as he departed Florence. She needed to see that he was unharmed. She slept poorly, rising carefully and quietly so as not to disturb Agata, who lay upon her trundle snoring. She dressed quickly in a simple dark gown, and pulled on her boots. Then, gathering up her cloak, she slipped from the bedchamber. She had not bothered to undo her plait and brush her hair, for fear of awakening her servingwoman.
Bianca crept down the stairs of the house, careful to avoid the two steps that creaked when trod upon. She hurried to the front door to await her brother. There was a single lamp burning in the entry rotunda. Other than that the dark silence engulfed her. On a stool by the door, the doorkeeper slept heavily. She stepped back into the shadows as she heard a soft footfall on the stairs.
Georgio quickly came into view, and Bianca stepped forward. He said nothing, instead opening the door of the house just enough for them to slip through. The doorkeeper never even stirred. Bianca suspected her brother had drugged the unsuspecting servant, and found she was grateful. He took her hand and together they began walking. The streets were dark and Bianca realized that without her younger brother leading her she could never have found her way. Several times her foot struck some object and she stumbled, but Georgio kept her from falling. Twice she felt something—a rat she imagined, shuddering—run over her boot. The air for the most part was damp with a faint hint of rot. But the sky was growing lighter as they hurried along.
“We’re almost there,” Georgio said softly. “What do you want to do when we finally get there, Sister?”
“I would simply stand by the side of the road,” Bianca said to him.
“Why?” he wanted to know.
“You will see,” she said to him.
They reached the city gate to the Venice road. No one had gone through it yet, for the gatekeepers were just now removing the great bar that helped to keep the gate closed. They slowly opened the gate and a small line of traffic made up of vendors carrying fruit, vegetables, meat, poultry, and dairy products, along with flower sellers and others, began to slowly file into the city on their way to the various markets and other places of business.
Suddenly Bianca’s ears caught the sound of many horses coming at a trot. She flung back her hood as the troop of Janissaries came into view. They were distinguished from other soldiers by their red and green garments, and the glossy brown horses they rode. From the pommels of their saddles hung metal-tipped whips that, when necessary, they used to disburse crowds. There was no need for that this morning. Because of the traffic coming from the opposite direction, they slowed their horses to a walk to avoid any accidents with the Florentine populace. Foreigners must be careful.
She saw him on his great gray stallion in the middle of the group. Her heart contracted with joy, for he looked healthy and well. Darius walked by his master’s side. It was the dog who spotted Bianca, and barking, ran to her. Amir looked in the direction his hound had run. His deep blue eyes widened with a mixture of joy and pain.
Bianca put her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and flung her hand in his direction. His gloved hand reached up to catch her kiss, his fingers closing over it, then opening to press against his heart. Bianca’s eyes filled with tears as she sent Darius back to his master.
Then she heard him call out, “I will find you, beloved!”
“Amore mio!I love you!”Bianca called back to him. Their eyes met briefly.
The troop of Janissaries suddenly moved on more quickly as the traffic lightened, allowing for their swifter passage. Bianca stood for a long moment watching them go. He still loved her. It was all that mattered to her. She could go to Venice knowing that by the time they found a suitable man to wed her, he would come for her. They would be together forever. Nothing would part them again.
“Let us go home now, Georgio,” she said to her brother, who had silently and sympathetically watched all that had transpired with his sister.
“That was your prince,” her sibling said.
“Yes,” Bianca replied. “That was my prince.”
“It will be full light when we get back home,” Georgio said. “We had better go to Mass and pretend we only went out for that.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Did you drug the doorkeeper?”
He nodded. “He has a weakness for sweet wine. I do it all the time when I want to get out and go whoring. Marco taught me that neat little trick and one day I will pass it on to Luca.” He chuckled.
Bianca laughed. “Our poor mother,” she said. “Here she believes she is in full charge of all of her children, and she actually has little authority at all.”
“Please stop torturing her, Bianca,” Georgio said. “She only does what she does because she loves her family.”
“Did you know she was in love with an unsuitable man before she was wed to our father, little brother? I think she did not want me to have Amir because she could not have her true love,” Bianca told her brother. “I believe even if he had not been an infidel she would have found some excuse to separate us.”
“If that is so,” Georgio remarked, “then perhaps you should be kinder to her, Sister. She has been a good wife to our father, and a good mother to her children. Yet she is unhappy, and still loves another man. I find that very sad, don’t you?”
