“You sound like a philosopher,” Bianca teased, heeding the householder’s warning and dodging the contents of a night jar that were being hurled from a window above. “Or perhaps even a priest.”
“I am considering the priesthood,” Georgio admitted to his eldest sister. “Marco is Father’s heir, and he is a worthy one. Luca is a little roughneck savage, and I think he will become a soldier one day. I am a thinker, and I seem to feel the pain of others. I want to ease that pain. For instance, I did not know what it was you planned to do this morning, but I sensed that you very much needed to do it, which was why I agreed to accompany you. Not just because of the debt I owed you, Bianca, but because I can feel your unhappiness even when you smile these days. This prince you love may not be suitable in the eyes of our society, but I believe you will never be happy unless you are with him, Sister.”
“Do not be a priest, Georgio,” Bianca said. “Your heart is too good, and I do not believe that you can live with all the rules the Church sets forth. To dismiss a good man because he does not worship as we do does not seem right to me. Does it to you?”
“No,” Georgio agreed, “it does not, Bianca. But could I not teach humanity kindness within the tradition of our faith?”
“They would try you for a heretic,” Bianca said cynically.
They reached their own piazza just as dawn was breaking, and entered the church for the earliest Mass. Afterwards they walked back across the square to the palazzo and entered the house, smiling at the doorkeeper, who still looked sleepy but was awake.
“I did not see you go out, young master,signora,” he said nervously.
“A bit too much of your sweet wine last night, Aldo,” Georgio teased the doorkeeper. “We won’t tell. My sister and I went to early Mass together. Father Silvio said Mass this morning. I think old Bonamico grows too old for such an early hour.”
The doorkeeper chuckled.
“You do that too easily,” Bianca said, smiling at her younger sibling, “but then our father says you are the one with the charm. Thank you, Georgio, for helping me.” She felt better now than she had in weeks. Seeing Amir had given her new courage and strength now that they were preparing to send her to Venice. And Venice was closer to Istanbul than was Florence. Did her parents not realize they were helping her to rejoin her lover rather than keeping them apart?
She was measured for new clothing. The gowns and undergarments were fashioned and sewn. Everything was packed into her trunks along with her personal possessions. It was unlikely that when she left Palazzo Pietro d’Angelo this time she would ever return. Her family intended her for a new marriage in Venice. This time they expected her to remain where they sent her. Her new husband would be another older man. He would want children from her even if he already had them, if for no other reason than to prove he was still virile. She would live her life in a palazzo on a canal, traveling by her own personal gondola wherever she went. It might suit some women. It didn’t suit her. Bianca wanted more than the security of a rich husband and a gondola.
“Like me,” Orianna said to her eldest daughter, “you dislike being closed in as we are here in Florence. That is why you loved Luce Stellare so much. You liked the sea, and you liked the openness of it all. Venice is like that. It is an open city of blue water and blue skies. Except, of course, in the winter months when it is rainy, gray, and chill,” she amended. “Still I know you will like it there,” she continued. “And you will probably have Francesca for a lifelong companion. Your grandfather adores her, and I doubt I can make a marriage for her elsewhere because of that. I will have two daughters in Venice.”
“For a time, perhaps,” Bianca said. “But Amir will come for me,Madre, and when he does, I will go with him.”
“Nonsense!” her mother responded. “You will marry into a fine, noble family and be happy, Bianca. Your prince is gone, and he will not return.”
“I am not like you,Madre,” Bianca said to her mother. “I will not spend my life longing for a man I cannot have while wed to another.”
“You are impossible!” Orianna said, irritated. “I wish your grandfather good luck with you, Bianca. Be aware that he is not a gentle man. If you anger him he will not hesitate to whip you himself. Mayhap you need the stubbornness beaten out of you. I do not know what happened to the sweet and gentle girl you once were.”
Bianca laughed, and the sound was a harsh one. “You forced me into marriage with Sebastiano Rovere,Madre. I would have died had I remained sweet and gentle. To survive that monster I learned to be hard and resourceful. But do not fear. I will go willingly to Venice if only to escape the confines of this city, and you,Madre.”
“It cannot be soon enough for me,” Orianna said angrily.
Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo had decided to have his two older sons, Marco and Georgio, escort their sister to Venice. He did not choose to leave his business, and besides, Marco needed to see the great commercial port that Venice was, for the bolts of silk that were his trade came through there. That was what had brought Giovanni Pietro to Venice all those years ago when he first saw the woman he would marry. His father had sent him for the same purpose, to learn all about the shipping trade.
They departed Florence on a winter’s morning in a large caravan containing all of Bianca’s worldly goods along with lavish gifts for Giovanni’s father-in-law, who would now take charge of another of his daughters. They would travel through Bologna, and then across the small duchy of Ferrara before entering the territory belonging to Venice. Padua would be the last city they visited before reaching Venice itself. Because they were encumbered with a baggage train it would take a few weeks before they reached their final destination.
The weather was cold. And not all days were sunny. If there were no inns or religious houses in which to shelter, a group of pavilions was set up, each with a charcoal brazier for heat. They were uncomfortable at best, and freezing at worst. Bianca wondered whether her hands, her feet, and her face would ever be warm again. The wind from the north was biting most days no matter the direction in which they traveled. They rode huddled over their horses, shrinking deep into their fur-lined cloaks and attempting to avoid the damp cold that seemed inescapable.
Bianca eagerly looked forward to the two cities through which they would pass.
At least there they stayed in warm inns and ate hot food before they had to take up their journey once more in the winter weather. Perhaps if she had been nicer to her mother, Bianca considered at one point, her parents would have waited until spring for her to make this trip.
But then the land began to fall away, and the road they traveled was flat and there was water to be seen all about them as the coast with its many islands began to be revealed. In the distance they suddenly saw golden domes and towers springing up.
There was an almost magical and mystical look to it.
“Venice,” said the local guide, who had joined them in Padua, pointing.
Chapter 11
Finally they could go no farther by land. They reached a place where there were barges waiting to be hired to take the baggage carts and the horses along with the men-at-arms who had traveled with them into the city. The three siblings and Agata were settled in a large gondola that would ferry them to their grandfather’s palazzo.
“Prince Venier?” the gondolier said. “Yes! Yes! I know his palazzo.” He pushed off from the quay. “Are you Veniers? Have you come from the estates on Kythira or Crete? Have you ever been to Venice before?” He was very curious.
“We are Prince Venier’s grandchildren from Florence,” Marco answered the gondolier. “I am called Marco, my brother is Georgio, and our sister is Bianca.”
