Bianca (31 page)

“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

A
zura 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.

“Now I want you to go home and be happy and content yourself,” she continued. “Become a prosperous silk merchant following in our father’s footsteps. Respect and care kindly for your wife and children. Gain proper prestige with an envied mistress. Serve the state as often as they will have you. Be charitable, remembering your many blessings. And when you happen to think of me, Marco, know that I am happy and content as the wife of my dearest infidel. I would have it no other way, nor should you. If you still perceive that you have sinned against me, Brother, I freely offer you my full forgiveness.”

His eyes were filled with tears, which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand. “Bianca . . .” he said, and then to her great surprise he broke down sobbing.

She moved quickly around the table to enfold him in her embrace as he wept.

“Dearest brother,” she said, “you must not grieve for me any longer. Please, oh please, tell me that you understand, Marco. It pains me to think you will go and not comprehend. What can I do to make you see?”

He had shocked himself with the emotions that had overcome him so suddenly. He had not cried since he was a small boy. Men did not weep like maidens or old women. And then, as the sound of her gentle voice calmed him, he came to realize that she had truly forgiven him, if indeed she had once held him responsible for her unhappiness. Her warm embrace soothed him. He gathered himself once again, easing himself from her arms. “I understand, Bianca,” he told her. “How can I not when I see you filled with such happiness and peace?”

She smiled at him, her delicate fingers brushing away the evidence of his sorrow. “I am glad then, and I can send you home without the burden of your unnecessary guilt, Marco. Give my love to Francesca, and tell her of my happiness. I will pray that she finds hers. And the others too.”

“You still pray to our God?” He had thought she would be forbidden to do so and be forced to pray to the deity of the infidels.

“Of course I pray to God,” she said, almost laughing. “Amir promised I should not be forced to give up my faith. I have no priest, it is true, but I know God hears my prayers even without one.”

He nodded, then said, “I did not ask you before, Bianca, but do you have any children? I would tell our father, who will gladly receive news of you, even if others will not.” They both knew he referred to their mother.

“No, but I hope to one day. Maysun and Shahdi are sterile, for it is not wise for Ottoman princes to have too many children, especially sons. Sons pose a danger to the sultan, to his heir, and to their family.”

“So that is why Prince Amir lived in Florence,” Marco said, fascinated.

“He told me when you are the sultan’s grandson, it is better to be a merchant than a warrior. His father even now quarrels with his brother, Sultan Bayezit.”

“Does that not put you in danger?” Marco asked, concerned.

“No,” Azura told him. “Amir has always been loyal to the sultan, whoever he may be. He does not involve himself in politics. His uncle knows he will not rebel, even for his father’s sake. We are told that the prince, Jem, now resides on the island of Rhodes under the protection of the Knights Hospitaliers.”

“I know little of politics except when it should affect the silk trade,” Marco told her. “I came to Bursa because it is there that the Silk Road ends, and I wished to speak with some of that city’s merchants. I have found a new source of particularly fine silk and silk brocade that will please our father greatly. The robe you wear is exquisite. With material like that, the Pietro d’Angelos could corner the trade in silk.”

She laughed. “You are Father’s true son, Marco. I know he is proud of you.”

“He does not say it if he is,” Marco grumbled, helping himself now to one of the small honeyed nut confections that was still left upon the plate.

They spent another hour or so in comfortable brotherly-sisterly companionship. The concerns between them were now settled. Azura knew she must be the one to end the afternoon. Finally she forced herself to rise, and he rose too.

“You must go, Marco,” she told him. “I am glad you came. It is unlikely we will see each other again in this life, Brother.”

“I know,” he admitted, “but I am relieved to see how happy you are, Bianca, and I am grateful for your forgiveness.”

The two siblings embraced, and then Azura escorted him from the salon, surprised to see Amir awaiting them outside.

“My lord?” she said.

“I will escort your brother back to the beach, beloved,” he told her.

She gave a little nod of her head. “You are most gracious, my lord.” Then she turned to her brother a final time. “Farewell, Marco. Remember my words, and go with God in your travels.” Then kissing him on both cheeks, she turned and hurried off down a corridor and out of his sight.

“Come!” Amir said to his guest.

“I am grateful that you allowed me to see Bianca,” Marco said as they exited the little palace and began the climb down the steep path to the shoreline. “She has put my mind at ease, and forgiven me for past wrongs.”

“I am glad, but you cannot come again,” Amir told him. “It was not easy for Azura to leave all that was familiar to her, but she did it for my sake. I can but hope a woman will one day love you that much, Marco Pietro d’Angelo.”

“It was difficult for me as well,” Marco told his companion, refusing to be bullied even a little by this prince. “She is my sister, the closest to me in age of all our siblings. I should not upset her willingly. If it be your will, my lord, that we not see each other again, then I accept it. My sister has already told me most firmly the same thing,” he concluded with a small smile.

Amir barked a sharp laugh. “Did she? Did she indeed? Ah, what a wonderful female creature she is.” His handsome face relaxed now as the threat of Azura’s family began to fade away.