The Wind Dancer (37 page)

"You must get some sleep," Caterina said briskly as she strode out on the battlement
toward Sanchia. "You've scarcely rested since the boy disappeared. Getting ill won't
bring Piero back."

Sanchia's gaze remained fixed on the vineyards to the north of the city. She lifted her
hand to rub her temple. "I can't remember if they tried the winery."

"The second day." Caterina paused. "Even the vats."

Sanchia shuddered. "He's dead, isn't he? He must be dead or we would have found him."

"Nonsense. We should have found him even if he was dead. So not finding him proves
nothing."

Caterina's abrasiveness was oddly comforting. "That's right. They would have found his
bo--" She couldn't say the word. Her hands clenched on the stone ledge, trying to fight
down the sickness the thought brought. "Bianca told me she's praying for him. I tried to
pray, but I'm not sure God listens to me anymore. I've broken so many of his laws. I've
stolen and lied." Her voice lowered to a whisper, "I've committed adultery."

"I've never been sure God hears me either. I have an idea He leaves alone the people
capable of solving their own problems and concentrates on those who can't. It may not
seem just to us, but we should not argue with Him." Caterina drew her crimson cloak
more closely about her. "It's growing cooler now that the sun has gone down. Come in
and sup with me. You can do no good out here. Lion will return when he returns and not
before."

"I'll join you shortly." Sanchia turned and once more gazed out over the countryside. She
suddenly stiffened. "Is that someone coming?"

Caterina squinted at the puff of dust barely discernible as horses and riders at a distance.
"Possibly. Yes, I think those are horsemen."

"Lion!" Sanchia turned and ran toward the door leading to the stairs.

"He's still far away," Caterina called after her. "Be careful. You'll hear nothing if you fall
down those stairs and crack your head."

"I'll be careful but I must... " Sanchia's words trailed behind her as she left the
battlements and started down the first curving flight of stairs.

It was almost an hour later when Lion rode into the courtyard. Sanchia ran forward, her
gaze searching Lion's face. "Piero?"

Lion smiled. "We found him. He's well, Sanchia."

Sanchia swayed and reached out to clutch at Tabron's saddle. "Where?"

"He'll be here soon. I rode on ahead to tell you." Lion swung down from the saddle and
put his arm around Sanchia's waist to steady her. "Marco's bringing him. Piero wouldn't
ride any longer in the wagon in which we found him, so Marco took him up behind him."

"You found him at the monastery?"

Lion shook his head. "Not three miles from here. We were returning from the monastery
when we saw a wagon pulled over on the shoulder of the road. Piero was in the bed of the
wagon lying on a pile of blankets. He was bound hand and foot and blindfolded."

"Bound." She was stunned. "But why would anyone do that to Piero?"

Lion shook his head. "God knows." His lips tightened. "But I intend to find out."

For the first time Sanchia noticed the deep lines of exhaustion graven on either side of
Lion's mouth and the dark circles beneath his eyes. Lion had been searching unceasingly
for five days with even less sleep than she had gotten. She took a step nearer and laid a
hesitant hand on his cheek. "You must rest. You look so weary."

"Now I can rest. The boy--"

"Sanchia!"

Sanchia's gaze flew to the mounted men who had just galloped into the courtyard.
Lorenzo and Marco, and behind Marco clutching at his waist a small, beloved figure.

"Piero!" She dashed across the courtyard.

Piero released his grip on Marco and swiftly slid off the horse into Sanchia's arms. "I'm
back." His arms were so tight around her she could scarcely breathe. "They took me away
but I'm back, Sanchia."

"Where have you been?" Her hands moved over him anxiously. "Are you all right?" She
wrinkled her nose, half laughing, half crying. "You smell terrible, and where did you get
those horrible rags?"

"I don't know." Piero's hands were moving over her hair caressingly. "I don't know
anything. I was walking in the market... and then my head hurt--" He took a step back
and looked at her gravely. "I couldn't see anything when I woke up. I thought I was blind.
Then I heard them talking about the blindfold and then I knew--"

"
Gran Dio
, the boy is filthy." Caterina came down the steps to the courtyard. "Ask him
questions after he's had a bath and a meal."

"A good idea." Marco said, making a face. "And a bath for me too. I must smell as bad as
Piero after having him cling to me all this way." He looked around the courtyard.
"Where's Bianca?"

"In the chapel praying." Sanchia took Piero's hand and gripped it tightly. "Why don't you
go tell her Piero's back safely?"

"Well, perhaps I shall just stop by." He dismounted and tossed the reins of his horse to a
hovering groom. "She'll want to know her prayers have borne fruit."

Lorenzo sniffed. "Rather overripe fruit. Be sure not to get too close or you'll overpower
her."

Marco grinned and started toward the chapel.

A small wagon pulled by a shaggy horse was being driven into the courtyard; it was
followed by the eight riders Lion had taken with him that morning. Sanchia looked hard
at the wagon as her hand tightened on Piero's. Why had he been tied up and left in the
wagon? More, why had he been taken in the first place?

"The bath," Caterina said firmly. She knelt and gave Piero a vigorous hug, then rose and
took his other hand. "Rosa will be very glad to see you. She's been weeping and wailing
ever since you disappeared, young Messer Piero. Come along now."

Sanchia hesitated as she passed Lion, her gaze on his strained, weary face. "Thank you,"
she whispered. "I'll always remember--" Her voice broke and she turned and hurried up
the steps with Piero and Caterina.

There would be time later to tell Lion how much Piero's return meant.

"I must see you."

Lion stood in the doorway to Piero's chamber. He was fully dressed, even to his cloak
and gauntlets and Sanchia hurriedly stood up from her chair beside the child's bed and
moved toward him. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I'm leaving for Pisa with a company of men." He drew her from the room and shut the
door softly. "A messenger arrived only minutes ago from Basala, my shipwright at the
yard."

"What message?"

"Damari has set a torch to all the ships in the yard."

"Oh no!" She grasped his arm, her eyes misting with tears. No wonder Lion's face was set
in lines of suffering. Damari might just as well have attacked Lion's family as those
ships. "All of them?"

"All four," he said hoarsely.

"Is Basala sure that Damari is responsible for the fire?"

"Damari made certain Basala
knew
who was responsible. He boasted he was going to
come back and burn the yard itself." He grimaced. "He may have done it by now."

"And if he has?"

"I'll follow him and set a torch to the bastard." He paused. "Will you be here when I
return?"

Sanchia hesitated, realizing he wasn't asking for an answer to a question, but a promise.
Her heart went out to him. He had spent five days in exhaustive search for Piero and now
must leave to face still another catastrophe. At this moment she would promise him
anything. "I'll be here."

"Good." He started to turn away, but stopped abruptly and asked, "How is the boy?"

"He is very tired. However, children have great recuperative powers and I'm sure he'll be
better after a night's rest." She frowned. "I don't understand any of this, Lion. Who took
Piero? None of it makes sense."

"What did he tell you?"

"Only that he was blindfolded the entire time he was gone. He heard nothing to indicate
where he was or who did this to him. He was evidently kept in a room by himself most of
the time and only taken out among people once or twice."

"That's all he knows?"

"He said he heard heavy breathing, moans... " She sighed in disappointment. "Maybe
he'll remember more in the morning."

"Perhaps. Go to bed now. You can accomplish nothing by sitting and watching him
sleep."

"I don't want to leave him yet. I just got him back and I don't want to let him out of my
sight."

"I'm leaving Marco and a full company of men here in Mandara with orders to watch
over all of you. They won't let anything happen to him." His hand touched her cheek
gently. "I should be back within a fortnight even if I have to chase Damari back to
Solinari."

"First the Wind Dancer and now the shipyard. Why does Damari hate you so much?"

His lips twisted. "Because of who I am--my father's son and therefore the master of
Mandara. And because of who he is. His mother once lived in the pretty house you
occupy on the piazza."

Her eyes widened in astonishment. "He's your brother?"

"
Dio
, no! His mother was the widow of a shopkeeper and he was two years old when she
became my father's mistress. She was a coarse, earthy woman but she held my father
longer than most." His expression darkened. "She flaunted the association and those
years were very difficult for my mother. Damari was seven when my father finally gave
in to my mother's pleas and sent him and his mother away from Mandara, but he came
back when he was twelve years old and asked to be taken into my father's service."

"And he wants whatever is yours."

"But he'll not get it." Lion turned away. "Good-bye, Sanchia."

"Lion." She didn't want him to leave. She had a sudden vision of Damari's face as he
stood over her in the dungeon. Malevolence. Evil. Death.

He looked at her inquiringly. No matter what she said, he would still go after Damari, she
realized. "Go with God," she whispered.

A brilliant smile lit his face, then he was striding away from her down the corridor.

"How is Piero?" Caterina asked as Sanchia entered the hall the next morning.

"Still sleeping. I thought I'd pamper him and bring breakfast to him in his chamber."

"A little pampering can do no harm." Caterina paused. "You know that Lion left for Pisa
last night?"

Sanchia nodded. "Damari."

"I would not have had this happen." Caterina frowned. "The shipyard was troublesome to
me, but I would not have had Lion lose it at the hand of that bastard."

"I know you would not," Sanchia answered. "And Lion knows it as well. He's too much
your son not to realize your thinking on the matter."

Caterina's brow cleared. "You're right, Lion is not fool enough to think I mean him
harm." She took an apple from the bowl and put it on the trencher with a piece of melon.
"Go feed the boy. I'll be along soon to see how he does and put a few questions to him.
We have to get to the end of this coil."

True to her word Caterina arrived in Piero's chamber only a quarter of an hour later.

"Still in bed?" She swept into the room with a smile and strode toward the bed.

"No!" Sanchia said sharply. "Don't come any closer." Her gaze never left Piero's face.

Caterina stopped short. "What's wrong?" Her gaze raked Piero's flushed face and
glittering eyes. "The boy is sick."

Sanchia nodded jerkily. "The blankets in the wagon where Lion found him. What did you
do with them?" Caterina frowned. "Why, I sent a lackey last evening to distribute them
among the poor. They were well-woven wool and--Why do you ask?"

"Piero said his left arm is sore." Sanchia's voice was low, the words barely audible. She
took the child's arm and raised it carefully over his head.

"Mother of God!"

A red and pus-filled boil as large as a hen's egg lay in the curve of Piero's armpit.

"Thirsty." Piero jerked his arm away and turned on his side. "Drink, Sanchia."

"Right away, carino."Sanchia moved toward the door. "I'll be back in a moment."

Caterina followed her out into the hall and closed the door.

Sanchia whirled to face her. "Is it what I think?"

"I'm not sure," Caterina said slowly. "I've never seen anyone who actually had it. I was
only a child when it came to Florence in 1470 and it never spread to Mandara, thank
God."

"But I've heard stories." Sanchia pressed her palms back against the panels of the door.
"That's how it starts."

"Sometimes. Sometimes there are no boils at all." Caterina turned away, her movement
sluggish for someone who was usually so brisk and forceful. "I have to... to do
something."

"What?" asked Sanchia. "What can you do?"

"I'll send someone to collect those blankets. No, I'll do it myself. Perhaps it's not too
late."

"I've heard anything spreads it. The wind... the touch of befouled clothing... " Sanchia's
eyes widened in horror. "The rags we took off Piero. I sent Rosa to burn them. She'll be
in danger too."

"Rosa, Marco, Bianca, and you and me," Caterina enumerated. "We all touched Piero.
Perhaps even Lion... Who knows who's safe from it?"

Sanchia closed her eyes and sank back against the door. "Pray God we're wrong."

"Well, we'll soon know. The plague isn't shy about making its presence felt."

Rosa fell ill that night and died at dawn the next day. No one else in the castle appeared
to be ill, nor was there any sign of illness in the city.

Caterina came into Piero's chamber to give Sanchia the news that no one besides Rosa
was ill. She lingered to stand looking down at Piero. "How does he?"

"I don't know." Sanchia shook her head wearily. "He's in great pain. He wakes and sleeps
and wakes again."

"He's fighting hard. It is said the plague has two heads and the one that produces the boils
is not so deadly as the other."

Two heads. It brought to mind a picture of a monster Medusa lying in wait to pounce on
the unwary.

"I'll prepare another poultice for the boils." Caterina turned away. "And then return to sit
with him while you rest."