Bianca: The Silk Merchant's Daughters

by Bertrice Small

  But to Amir’s relief, his uncle did not seem to consider his nephew culpable for his father’s actions. Captain Mahmud’s Janissary troop had gone back to Istanbul. Life at the Moonlight Serai took on a regular and almost placid pace. The prince’s trading vessels came and went regularly. The seasons came and went. Azura often thought how surprised her mother would be to learn of the quiet life her daughter now lived. She wondered if Francesca had managed to capture Enzo’s heart; how her younger sisters were growing up. Did they ever think of her? Or was Orianna so angered at having been foiled in her plans for the daughter she had named Bianca that her name was never spoken in the palazzo of the Pietro d’Angelos?

  And then one day she was surprised in a way she had not expected. Her husband came to her after speaking with one of his vessel captains. He carried a sealed letter, which he handed to her. Azura took it from him, a questioning look upon her face.

  “What is this?” she asked him.

  “Someone has written to you,” he answered. “It was given to one of my captains in Bursa, beloved. Open it.”

  Azura broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes widened at the familiar hand. “It is from my brother Marco,” she told him as she quickly scanned the missive. “He would come and see me, Amir.”

  She saw the prince’s face tighten with suppressed anger, and quickly said, “I do not need to see him, Amir. We will ignore this.” She slowly folded the parchment.

  “I wonder what he was doing in Bursa,” she said, almost to herself.

  “The Silk Road comes to an end in Bursa. He was undoubtedly there on your father’s business,” Amir told her.

  “But how did he know how to find me?” Azura wondered.

  “He undoubtedly learned of my ships, and sought out any of my captains in that port,” the prince reasoned. “That was very clever of him.”

  “I never thought Marco particularly clever,” Azura said drily.

  “Do you want to see him?” Amir asked her.

  “I do,” she admitted, “but if it disturbs you, I will not. Perhaps it is better to let sleeping dogs lie, my lord.”

  “No!” he replied, swallowing his pride and his anger that Azura’s family was again attempting to interfere in their lives. “Your family is curious, and will once more attempt to lure you back to them. Let him come! I will not release you, beloved. I will not!”

  Now Azura laughed, and slid her arms about his neck, her body pressing against his. “I don’t want to go back, Amir, my dearest love. I am simply curious about why Marco has chosen this moment to contact me, although he is undoubtedly curious about this life I live with you. I held him responsible for my marriage to Rovere. I believe he wants to see if I am happy with you. If you would have him come, then let it be according to your word. I am content to abide by it.” She kissed him a long, sweet kiss.

  Wrapping his arms about her, he enjoyed the kiss. How long had they been together now? Almost three years, and he was as happy now as the day he had brought her to the Moonlight Serai. No, happier, he reconsidered. “He may come, but he must sleep on the ship that brings him. I’ll tell my captain.” He kissed her a long, hard kiss.

  How vulnerable he is, Azura suddenly thought, enjoying his possession. “Of course, my dearest lord.”

  “He will not meet the others,” Amir said.

  “Certainly not!” Azura responded, shocked. She had come to have certain Turkish sensibilities. A man’s harem was sacrosanct.

  “And you will visit with each other in the salon used for visitors,” Amir told her.

  “Perhaps the garden as well,” she suggested.

  “If your companion wives do not wish to walk,” he added.

  “You are most generous, my lord,” she said.

  “You are making fun of me,” he accused her.

  “This is my older brother who wishes to visit, Amir, not a former suitor,” she replied, laughing softly.

  “Any other man who attempted to visit you who is not my uncle or my father would find himself with his throat slit,” the prince told her seriously.

  “Then I shall certainly tell Marco not to reveal the location of my home to anyone else, my lord,” she said. “I should not want the blood of innocents on my hands.”

  “Azura, this is serious,” he said. “It is unusual for the family of a woman such as yourself to come visiting under such circumstances. I don’t want to allow your brother here, but I can see it means a great deal to you. I will always strive to please you, beloved.” He sighed. “You know how much I love you.”

  “Loving me does not mean just possessing me, Amir,” she said, gently chiding him. “You must trust me, for I would never betray you in any way. I have an opportunity to do what so many women who are brought to the empire do not. I can tell my family I am well, and gloriously happy with you. Happier than I have ever been in all of my life. Being your wife suits me even if I must share you with Maysun and Shahdi. That is what I would tell my brother so he may tell our family. Let there be no doubts about how I feel. I love you, my lord Amir. Only death will part us.”

  “I am a jealous fool,” he declared.

  “You are,” she agreed, “and I am flattered by it, but I shall see Marco and reassure him of my happiness. Whether he agrees with me or not, he will tell our family what I have said.”

  Marco Pietro d’Angelo was brought across the Sea of Marmara and through the Strait of the Bosphorus into the Black Sea. When the ship anchored just off the north coast he could just see the white marble of the palace on the green hills above. He was rowed ashore, and met by a tall, handsome, fair-skinned man with deep blue eyes and dark hair who didn’t look foreign at all.

  “I am Amir ibn Jem,” the prince said, introducing himself. “Welcome to my home.”

  Marco bowed in spite of himself. The man before him had presence and dignity. “I am Marco Pietro d’Angelo, Bianca’s older brother,” he responded. “I must assume you have brought me here so I may see my sister.”

  “Come!” the prince said, not bothering to answer his visitor’s question. “We must climb this hill to get to the palace where your sister awaits you.”

  The prince climbed easily and quickly, but Marco, not used to physical exercise, was slower. By the time they reached the top of the hill he was puffing and out of breath.

  Amir smiled wickedly to himself. Azura’s brother would have to climb that hill each time he came to see her. He would be quickly gone. “Your sister awaits you in the garden, Marco Pietro d’Angelo,” the prince told his winded guest. Then he pointed.

  Marco looked in the direction the prince pointed. He saw a veiled female figure dressed in a violet silk robe standing quietly. “Bianca?” He walked forward, and when he reached her Marco recognized his sister’s beautiful eyes above the sheer veil.

  Azura lowered the delicate silk covering her face. “Marco,” she said, smiling at him. Then, leaning forward, she kissed him on both cheeks and, taking his hand, invited him to sit with her. “Why have you come?” she asked him. “You have distressed my husband by your actions.”

  “Your husband? You are married?” He looked surprised.

  “Under the laws of this land, yes, I am Prince Amir’s third wife,” Azura said quietly. “Did you believe I had been kidnapped and forced into carnal slavery?” She laughed. “I’m sure Mother spread such a rumor, for to admit that her daughter loved an infidel would have been beyond her.”

  “They said you screamed and struggled when you were taken from your bridal vessel,” Marco told her. “It created a great to-do in Venice, and a scandal when the doge refused to intervene with the sultan.”

  “It was not me who was taken from that flower-bedecked gondola,” Azura said. “It was Francesca. She was in love with Enzo, and I knew Amir was coming for me. So we conspired to switch places that day.
” She then went on to explain to her brother how when Amir discovered that the veiled bride was not Bianca he had with Francesca’s aid returned to their grandfather’s palazzo so they might again switch places. “Did Francesca finally capture Enzo’s heart?” Azura asked her brother.

  “No. He was married three months later to an Orsini. A widow who had produced two sons for her late husband,” Marco told her.

  “Ahh, poor Francesca,” Azura said sympathetically. “Is she married yet? I’m sure another husband was found for her.”

  “Grandfather sent her back to Florence. He said he was too old to have to contend with young marriageable girls any longer. He claimed that both you and Francesca have disgraced the Venier name. Mother was furious, as you can imagine.”

  “Yes, I can indeed imagine,” Azura said. “Are the others well? And our father?”

  “All thrive,” Marco told her.

  “I am glad,” Azura said. Then she arose. “You may come and see me again tomorrow, Marco. And you will tell me then why you have sought me out.” Turning, she left him standing surprised by her departure.

  A slave was at his elbow. “I am to escort you down to the beach, sir,” he said to Marco. “You will be taken back to the vessel, and my master says you are to return tomorrow at this same hour.” He led the guest from the prince’s garden and back down the steep incline to the shore, where a small boat was already waiting to return Marco to the anchored ship.

  Marco Pietro d’Angelo was disappointed. There were so many questions he had for Bianca, but she had controlled the conversation. Still, he had been told he might return. He would ask his questions then, and this time he would get his answers.

  Chapter 16

  Azura watched him go from a window in the harem. He had grown into a man in the almost four years since she had seen him. Yet he seemed a stranger to her in many ways. She had seen the many questions in his eyes. She would have to answer them if he was to depart satisfied. Amir’s arms went about her, and she leaned back against him.

  “You are sad,” he said.

  “Yes, oddly I am,” Azura admitted, “but not by the life I lead. Rather by the knowledge that my family has not yet come to terms with my decisions.” She told him what her brother had told her. “I can but imagine how angry my mother was to have her plans for me thwarted, but to have her second daughter sent home in disgrace must have been terrible for her. It will reflect upon my two other younger sisters, I fear. I wish I didn’t know. I wish Marco had not come.”

  “He does not have to come back,” Amir said.

  “Yes, he does, for I cannot send him away without giving him the answers to all his questions, my love. I must shut that door firmly and forever this time,” Azura said with a sigh.

  He knew she was right, but it pained him to see the distress that her brother’s coming had caused her. Tomorrow after they had spoken he would speak with Marco Pietro d’Angelo himself. Then he would send him on his way with instructions never to return. He didn’t want Azura upset like this ever again.

  The following day Marco came once more to visit with his sister. This time the slave escorting him led him into the charming little palace, taking him to a small salon. He was invited to seat himself amid the cushions set about a low table. A sweet drink and a plate of honeyed confections were brought to him. As anxious as he was to see Bianca again, he found himself easily settled amid the strange seating. He found the fruit drink he was sipping delicious, and the crisp little cakes, which he couldn’t resist popping into his mouth one after the other, irresistible.

  His sister entered the salon smiling. She was unveiled, and wore a rich robe of crimson brocade silk trimmed with gold and black embroidery. Her beautiful dark hair was loose and uncovered. “Marco, welcome,” she said gracefully, seating herself across from him, taking the small goblet of sherbet from the attending slave.

  “You are different today,” he noted. “You do not greet me veiled.”

  “We are indoors. I have no need to go veiled in my own home,” she explained. “I see our servants have made you comfortable, and that you still possess a prodigious sweet tooth, big brother.”

  “Your home,” he said softly, almost questioningly.

  “Yes, Marco, my home,” Azura repeated. “This little palazzo is called the Moonlight Serai. ‘Serai’ is the word for palazzo here. I live with my husband, Prince Amir, and his other two wives, Maysun and Shahdi. We are happy together.”

  “Did you know of the others before you came?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “Yes, I did, but it made no difference to me, Marco. I love Amir, and loving him was all that mattered to me. Not family. Not faith. Only him.”

  “Has he bewitched you, then?” her brother wondered.

  “Do not be foolish, Marco,” Azura said with a laugh. “Have you never really been in love that you would ask such a thing of me? But of course men rarely admit to tender emotions, lest they be thought of as weak.”

  “I do not understand what you mean by this all-consuming love,” he admitted. “I have a good wife. I have a child. I care for them, but there are other things in life to which I must attend. I do not have time for this love as you describe it.” He did look genuinely perplexed by her words, and by her attitude.

  “Why did you seek me out then, Marco?” his sister asked him candidly.

  “I would take you back home if you would go,” he said.

  “Oh, Brother, how naive you are,” Azura told him. “I don’t want to go back, but even if I did, there would be no way for me to return other than to a convent where I would be reviled by the good nuns for my wicked and lewd behavior, and expected to spend the rest of my days in the deepest of repentance for my sins. I have many sins, Marco, but loving Amir cannot be counted among them.

  “I do not wish to send you away today without you understanding that the choices I made were mine. I made them freely. I have no regrets about what I did. None! And it is really very simple. We are two people who fell in love, who wanted to be together despite all the obstacles others placed in our path to prevent our union. But we overcame everything. I am his wife, and I am happier than I have ever been in all my life.”

  “Do you not miss your old life at all?” he asked her.

  She laughed. “My old life and my new life are quite similar, Brother. In Florence or even Venice a married woman is cloistered in her home to protect her. She rarely leaves her home. In Turkey a married woman is also cloistered in her home to protect her, and she rarely leaves her home. I direct my slaves in their duties, although I share that chore with my sister wives. I would have done virtually the same thing in Florence or Venice. If I have a child, I will raise it here as I would elsewhere. When the child is grown I will seek a good marriage for it. When I die I will be buried. As you can see, there is little to no difference in my life here or there, Marco.”

  “You have no family here,” he pointed out harshly.

  “Our mother plans for great marriages for her remaining daughters, Brother. We both know that means the others will leave Florence when they wed. The daughter of a wealthy Florentine merchant is a prize highly sought after, especially by the nobility, who are always in need of funds. Our mother will find the best titles for my sisters, you may be certain. And once wed and gone, they will be as I am. Their husbands, their children, and those kinsmen around them become their family.

  “How much time do you have for our parents now that you are wed, Brother? The fact that you toil with our father in his silk trade is the only reason that you see him on a daily basis. Do you see our two brothers, Georgio and Luca? Or our sisters? Or our mother often now, Marco? I suspect you do not. Why should it be different for me? Go home. If you would please tell our parents that I am happy, I shall be content. Live your life for yourself and your family, not for others, Marco.”

  �
��As you so selfishly have?” he demanded angrily of her.

  Azura laughed, not in the least disturbed by his tone. “Yes!” she told him. “As I have. I will not apologize for what I have done to anyone.”

  “Your name is forbidden to be spoken in our parents’ house,” he told her.

  She laughed again, but this time there was a bitter edge to her laughter. “Yes, I expect my name is forbidden, but is it so because of what I did or because I was successful in defying our mother? But no matter. Bianca Pietro d’Angelo does not live in the Moonlight. Prince Amir’s third wife is called Azura for her beautiful eyes.”

  His face crumpled. “I will always hold myself responsible for what you have done, what you have suffered,” he told her. “Had Stefano and I not disposed of that poor woman’s body in the Arno, Rovere could not have blackmailed Father into giving you to him as a bride. You would have been spared his cruelty and brutality, Bianca. You would have made a good marriage and been happy.”

  Now she understood! He had not sought her out because their parents had sent him. Their parents comprehended that her decision to go with Amir had been irrevocable. It was poor Marco who didn’t understand. He believed her forced first marriage had caused her to take the wrong path in life. Reaching across the table, Azura took his hand into hers and looked directly into his troubled brown eyes.

  “Listen to me, Marco,” she began. “Yes, my marriage to Rovere was a nightmare, but because it was, I was able to recognize real and true love when I found it. I would not have otherwise. I would have gone through life a frightened but dutiful wife to a man I felt little for, even as our mother has. I know you don’t really understand what I mean by the love I have described to you, but you need feel no guilt for the path I chose to take, Brother. I should thank you, Marco, and I do. It is true that I once held you responsible for my misery as Rovere’s wife, but I no longer do. The unhappiness he caused me was his sin, not yours or mine. But without a knowledge of good and evil, I would not have found my own happiness, big brother.” She squeezed the hand she held and smiled into his familiar and troubled face. How much like a younger version of their father he had become, she thought fondly.