The Wind Dancer

by Iris Johansen

  He meant it. Once again Sanchia felt panic rising within her. She muttered an exclamation that was half despair, half protest, turned and fled from the chamber and down the spiral steps.

  She stopped at the bottom of the first flight of stairs and leaned her cheek against the cold stone of the wall. She could not go back to the hall and face Caterina and Bianca. She had betrayed both of them. She had betrayed herself. She could feel the tears sting her eyes as she ran down two more flights of stairs and along the corridor toward Bianca's chamber. She would go to bed. She would go to sleep and not think of Lion or the way his face had looked when he had said he loved her or her own agonizing response to his words. It couldn't be love between them. Wouldn't love bring joy? Marco and Bianca loved each other and the joy shone from their faces. Surely if she loved Lion, it would be the same?

  The tears were running down Sanchia's cheeks as she paused outside Bianca's chamber. She had forgotten Bianca's maid, Anna, would be waiting up for her mistress. Sanchia could not arouse Anna's curiosity with these stupid tears or she would doubtless mention it to Bianca.

  She turned and ran down the hall to the chamber which Piero occupied next door, quietly opened the door, and slipped into the room. The fire in the fireplace had burned low and only the orange-red embers sparked up the chimney. The faint glow revealed Piero's fair hair gleaming on the pillow on the big bed across the room, and Sanchia immediately felt as if a cool, soothing hand had been laid upon her heart. Here was a love with no pain, a love that would leave her with honor and independence. Whole. She moved closer to the bed and looked down at Piero. His long lashes curved on his round cheek, and he appeared even younger than his six years now that she could no longer see the wariness in those bright blue eyes.

  Even as the thought occurred to her, his eyes opened to gaze up at her. He was instantly awake. "Sanchia."

  "Shh, all is well. I wanted to make sure you were sleeping." She tucked the coverlet more closely around him. "It was a fine, splendid party. I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

  He raised himself on one elbow. "Why are you crying?"

  She wiped her eyes swiftly with the back of her hand. "No reason. I'm merely tired."

  "You don't cry when you're tired. Is your hand hurting?"

  "No, next week I'll take off the splints and it will be quite well." She reached out and smoothed his hair. "Go back to sleep. I'll sit here awhile."

  His gaze searched her face and then he shook his head. "Lie down. I want you to hold me until I go to sleep. Will you do that, Sanchia?"

  She hesitated and then lay down on the bed beside him. "Why do you want me to hold you? Are you afraid of the dark?"

  "Of course not. I'm not afraid of anything." The denial came fiercely. "I just thought it would be... nice." His arms came around her and he held her tightly. "Good night, Sanchia."

  "Good night, Piero," she whispered. Her throat was so tight she could scarcely speak. She was obviously not lying here to comfort, but to be comforted. Piero, with that instinctive wisdom he had learned so young, had comprehended her pain and bewilderment and was trying to soothe it in the only way he knew how. Her heart swelled with poignant tenderness as she nestled closer to the warmth of Piero's small body.

  Yes, this was the only love she wanted in her life. This was the best kind of love.

  "You've made this garden into an Elysian field." Lorenzo's gaze ran admiringly over the rows and rows of brilliant blooms as they walked slowly toward the arbor. "I've always liked to stroll among your roses."

  "You've phrased it well. For over thirty years I've wrested peace and forgetfulness from this earth." Caterina's proud gaze followed Lorenzo's. "The castle grounds were overgrown, a tangle of thorn bushes when I came here as a bride." She paused to touch the petals of one full-blown damask rose before strolling on. "And the castle was in little better condition than the grounds. Carlo's father had been without a wife for over ten years and the servants had grown lazy without a mistress. It was foul as a pigsty. But I set to work and soon had it in order."

  "I'm sure you did." Lorenzo smiled at her. "I can see you tearing through the castle with a broom in one hand and a whip in the other."

  She shook her head. "I was not then as I am now. I had just reached my thirteenth year when I was given to Carlo in marriage and my home was very different from Mandara."

  "How different?"

  "Serene, well ordered. My mother would never have permitted conditions such as I found at Mandara, and she would have swooned if she had seen the kitchen."

  Lorenzo chuckled. "Do you think to make me pity that thirteen-year-old bride? You are not your mother. If you had not had a challenge to overcome, you would have ridden out and found one."

  "What a hardhearted rogue you are." She suddenly laughed. "But you're right. In those early days I would have gone mad if I hadn't had a great deal to do. I can remember kneeling in the dirt and digging and stabbing my spade into the earth. I spilled out all my rage and sorrow and loneliness to feed and water this garden. It's a wonder anything at all grew."

  "But you brought forth beauty."

  "Yes, it's strange how indifferent nature is to why we nurture it. It simply keeps on blossoming and giving as if we had lavished it with love instead of hate or despair." She was thoughtful for a moment. "And then one day we look around and see all this beauty we've helped to create and suddenly the love is there. Is that not queer, Lorenzo?"

  "It's the way nature tricks us into slaving to do her bidding. Children are the same. Nature makes infants winsome and amusing so that they won't be strangled when they bring so much trouble to their unfortunate parents."

  "Lion was a terrible baby, but Marco was as even-tempered as an angel."

  "But you preferred Lion."

  "I did not say that," she said quickly. They walked in silence for a moment. "Lion was so like me. Impatient, wild, curious. It was natural I should feel close to him."

  "Very natural. You're still very much alike."

  She shook her head. "But we grew away from each other when Carlo spirited him off." She dropped down on the marble bench beneath the arch of the arbor. "Lion was only seven when Carlo insisted on taking him on his first campaign. Scarcely more than a baby. He said Lion must learn the ways of war early as Carlo had done from his father. I screamed and ranted but it did no good."

  "And what did you do?"

  "I cleared another tract of land for an increase of my garden." She indicated a place to the left of the arbor in which roses of a deep red flourished. "And I dug in the earth from dawn until sunset every day for two months and every time I tore into the earth I pretended it was Carlo's heart. When he came back in the spring he told me how glad he was I had found such a gentle, womanly occupation to keep me from meddling in men's affairs."

  Lorenzo laughed and sat down on the bench beside her. "Cristo, what a dullard the man must have been."

  She pointed to the graceful marble fountain in the center of the garden. "Marco designed that fountain when he was only fifteen. He was... " She stopped and her hand dropped to her lap. "Why am I out here chatting about flowers and fountains? I should be doing something. Lion is somewhere inside--"

  "My dear Caterina, as inflamed as Lion was when he dragged Sanchia away, you can be sure the act has already been done. He's every bit as passionate as his mother. What is that pleasant little jingle I've been hearing?"

  Her gaze lowered to her left wrist. "I've forgotten to take off one of my bell bracelets." As she slipped the slender circlet from her wrist it gave off a silvery tinkle. She held the circlet between her slim, nervous fingers and turned it around and around, gazing down at it unseeingly. "Did I give up too easily?"

  "You've not given up at all. Tomorrow you'll be planning and plotting how to separate them again."

  "Yes, but perhaps I should have done something before this. I don't know why I was so lacking in determination. Am I getting old, Lorenzo?"

  "No, Caterina, no one is yo
unger than you."

  "I have gray in my hair."

  "You have steel in your soul."

  "I think I saw a line beside my mouth this morning when I looked in the mirror."

  "Impossible. It was a crack in the mirror."

  She was silent a moment, and then burst out laughing. "What sweet lies you tell me, and you say you always speak the truth."

  "I am telling the truth. Is your garden any less beautiful now than in its first flowering thirty years ago?" He shook his head. "It has only changed, grown, matured. It's been disciplined by harsh winters and your own hand, but each spring it renews itself. You're like your garden, Caterina." He looked out over the acres of flowers. "Perhaps you are this garden."

  She glanced at him in surprise before her gaze shifted back to the bells in her hands. "Trust you to be extravagant. You compare me not to a single rose but to an entire garden."

  "And the rich earth that nourishes it and the sharp thorns that protect it."

  "Lorenzo, I... " She stopped and shook her head. "I value our friendship."

  "Friendship is a fine thing."

  "It is so pleasant sitting here in my garden with you."

  "You don't have to make polite conversation with me. I am only Lorenzo. Sit and be at peace."

  She nodded and tilted her head to look up at the night sky. So many stars, remote and uncaring, as they shone down on a turbulent world. But no turbulence existed tonight in this garden. There was only Lorenzo, moonlight, the scent of roses, and the silvery music of the bracelet of bells she turned slowly in her fingers.

  "You must send me away," Sanchia said as soon as she entered Caterina's chamber the next morning. "Now. Today."

  Caterina looked coolly at her as she put her quill pen back onto the ivory inkstand. "I wasn't sure you hadn't changed your mind. You didn't appear overeager to leave Lion last night."

  A flush stained Sanchia's cheeks. "I made a mistake. I told you he makes me... That's why I must leave now before it happens again. You said you could find a way to smuggle me out of the city. It's been over a week since I came to the castle. Surely you've discovered some way for me and Piero to leave."

  Caterina nodded slowly. "The day after tomorrow, Messer Kalando's merchant caravan goes to Venice to sell wine from our vineyard. I'll send for the man and see if I can slip you out of the city with his train. However, they'll be moving too slowly for Lion not to overtake them, so you and Piero must branch off and hide until Lion has stopped searching the immediate area. Then you can rejoin the caravan before it reaches Venice." She paused. "You're welcome to leave Piero here. I've grown very fond of him in the last week."

  "He wouldn't stay. He says we belong together," Sanchia said. "But, if I find I cannot give him a good life, I'll send him back to you in spite of his protests. It's kind of you to offer him shelter."

  "I am not kind." Caterina rose to her feet and closed the account book. "Piero is welcome here because I like and admire the child." She met Sanchia's gaze. "As you would have been welcome under other circumstances."

  Sanchia's eyes widened in surprise, but she was given no chance to reply. Caterina was reaching into a drawer and taking out a soft leather pouch. "There are a hundred ducats here together with a ruby pendant worth ten times that amount. It should keep you very well until you find gainful employment." She held out the pouch. "Well, take it. Did you think I meant to send you out in the world to beg or steal?"

  Sanchia reached out mechanically to take the purse. "Thank you. I'll return the money as soon as I--"

  "It's a gift, not a loan." Caterina frowned. "Have the courtesy to accept it as such and say no more about it." She came around the desk and strode toward the door. "Now set to packing. I'll try to send your baggage to Messer Kalando this evening." She opened the door and stood waiting for Sanchia to depart. "This is the wisest thing for you to do, Sanchia."

  "I know it is." Sanchia crossed the room and would have left the chamber if Caterina hadn't stopped her by placing a hand on her arm.

  "If you have need of anything, you must send word to me. I will know no guilt over sending you away."

  Sanchia smiled with genuine warmth. "It's my choice. There is no guilt, Lady Caterina."

  Caterina gazed at her with a fierceness that suddenly reminded Sanchia of Piero's challenging glare. Was Lion's mother's ferocity used as the same armor? "I thank you for your help and I'm sorry if I brought you worry and pain. Good-bye, Lady Caterina."

  "It's not good-bye yet. You cannot leave until tomorrow night." Caterina hesitated. "I visit the sick today. Perhaps you'd like to delay your packing and accompany me." She added quickly, "It would keep you out of Lion's way."

  "I think I'd like to go with you." Sanchia was again conscious of that sense of companionship that was close to kinship blossoming between them. "If I'd be no trouble."

  "If I thought you'd be trouble, I would not have suggested you come," Caterina said gruffly. "I'll meet you in the courtyard when the chapel bell tolls the half hour." She released Sanchia's arm and almost pushed her from the room. "See that you don't keep me waiting."

  The door slammed in her face, and Sanchia turned and moved quickly down the hall. She understood Lion's mother even less than she understood Lion himself, but both of them fascinated her. It would do no harm to try to get to know Caterina a little better on this last day before she left Mandara. After tomorrow, it was unlikely that she would see either of them ever again.

  Not see Lion again? She was wrenched with agony and drew a deep breath to try to stifle her betraying response. Lion would never give up, and she would not have the strength to withstand him if she stayed here at Mandara.

  Yes, she and Piero must leave the city--and Lion as soon as possible.

  Chapter Sixteen.

  In the afternoon Piero disappeared.

  Sanchia, Caterina, and Bianca did not return to the castle until almost dusk, and Rosa was waiting when they rode into the courtyard.

  "It wasn't my fault," Rosa said as soon as she saw Sanchia. "It was that stupid groom's duty to watch over the boy. I couldn't be expected to trot after him into the town, could I?"

  Sanchia felt her heart leap and then begin to pound wildly. "Piero?" She got down from the mare and ran over to where Rosa stood on the steps. "What are you talking about? What's happened to Piero?"

  "It wasn't my fault. I always watch him like a hawk. You know that, Madonna Sanchia." Tears were streaming down Rosa's cheeks. "It was that stupid Donato who--"

  Sanchia grabbed Rosa's shoulders and shook her. "Stop babbling and tell me what's happened to Piero."

  "I don't know." Rosa gulped and her face twisted in an ugly grimace as she tried to suppress her sobbing. "He was out riding with Donato and the oaf lost him. He should have kept better watch over the boy. If I had been there, I would have--"

  "How could he lose him?" Sanchia shook her again. "Piero's not foolish. He wouldn't just wander away. How long has he been gone?"

  "All afternoon," Rosa said. "Donato told me they were in the mercatoand he turned his back for an instant and Piero was gone."

  "All afternoon? Why did no one send for me?"

  "A good question," Caterina said grimly. "And has anyone told Lord Andreas the boy's disappeared?"

  Rosa shook her head miserably. "Donato rode into the courtyard only five minutes before you came. He's been scouring the city for the child. He thought to find him before dark and had to return without him. I sent him to find Lord Andreas and confess he had lost Piero."

  "Surely nothing could have happened to Piero," Bianca said comfortingly. "After all, he's only a child. Perhaps he wandered away. I've often become intrigued watching all the tradesmen working at their crafts in their windows and found myself going farther than I intended."

  "Piero wouldn't have done that." Sanchia's hands dropped from Rosa's shoulders. "He would never--"

  "We'll find him, Sanchia." Lion was coming down the steps, pulling on his leather gauntlets. He gave a crisp
order over his shoulder and Donato started on the double across the courtyard. Lion turned to Bianca. "Find Marco and have him meet me at the stable. I last saw him painting in the garden."

  Bianca nodded and ran to the castle.

  "Piero is a sensible child," Caterina said sharply. "Sanchia is right. Why couldn't that dimwitted groom find him?"

  "We'll soon know," Lorenzo said as he joined Lion. "The people in the city know Piero is under the protection of this family, so no harm should come to him."

  "How do you know? So many things can happen to a child alone in the streets," Sanchia said fiercely. "You know that, Lorenzo."

  "Yes," Lorenzo said gently. "Evil things can happen anywhere, but Mandara is safer than the streets of Naples or Florence, Sanchia. Trust me. It is true."

  Sanchia turned to Lion. "I'm going back with you. Perhaps something frightened Piero and he's afraid to answer when called. He'll know my voice and come to me."

  Lion nodded. "Come then." He came a step closer, lifted her onto her horse and handed her the reins. He gazed steadily at her. "We'll find him, Sanchia. I promise you. We'll search until we do."

  "He's so little." Sanchia blinked back the tears. "We've got to find him, Lion. I love him so."

  "I know you do." For the briefest instant Lion's hand covered Sanchia's and then he was gone, striding across the courtyard in the direction of the stable.

  They found no sign of Piero that evening, though Lion ordered the search to go on far into the night. The next morning they returned to the city and searched the houses and shops from cellars to roofs.

  Piero was not found.

  In the late afternoon Lion rode at the head of a troop of men out the city gates to look for him in the countryside surrounding Mandara. It was to no avail.

  Piero was not found.

  Four more days passed while Lion searched neighboring villages and then in desperation traveled to a Franciscan monastery some eight hours distant.