Return to Paradise (Torres Family Saga) (46 page)

      
“Exactly what did you learn about Miriam?” His voice was deadly cold now.

      
Rani shivered in spite of the noon heat. “Servants' gossip. I know she was a physician like you and a Jewess and that you were betrothed until she wed your brother and went with him to the New World.” When he did not respond but merely continued up the stairs to her room, she asked, “Do you miss her, this doctoress?”

      
“Since you doubtless already know we were betrothed for over four years, would you not reason that I miss her?”

      
“Yes.” Rani's voice was very soft. She fought back tears.
Why did I ever bring up her name? Is it not enough that he cries it in his sleep!

      
Benjamin felt Vero nudge him as he paused at the door to her room. He shoved it open and stepped inside. The wolf loped past him as he placed Rani on her feet. Then he turned just as Vero gave a mighty shake of his thick pelt, spraying Benjamin with water that had a most peculiar essence of wolf emanating from it. “You mangy cur! Now look what you have done!” He inspected his damp clothes and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

      
“I was trying to bathe Vero when you interrupted me,” Rani said, asperity winning out over her earlier woefulness.

      
“Do you always bathe him by first removing all your clothes?”

      
“You have taught me to enjoy water sport...among other things.” Her mercurial mood shifted as she let the skirt drop to the floor, revealing her damp, sweet curves. She pressed her body close to his and reached up to encircle his neck.

      
“Tis the middle of the day and I have patients arriving at any moment. Besides, everybody in the household knows I am here.” He unfastened her clinging arms and turned to leave.

      
“What matters it that everyone in the house knows you lie with me? Are you ashamed of me, Benjamin?”

      
“No, Rani! I am not ashamed of you. You are bright and beautiful, but there are certain proprieties that must be observed while I live beneath my uncle's roof. And, speaking of propriety, from now on you bathe in the women's bath chamber like all other females in the house.”

      
After he left, Rani fumed impotently. “Tis all right for me to steal by dark of night into his bed, but he will not be caught making love to me in my lowly room!”

      
She sat disconsolately on the bed, then flung herself back and stretched, luxuriating on the thick, soft covers. Well, perhaps the room was not so lowly. In fact it was quite the most spacious and lavish place in which she had ever slept. But Benjamin did not share it with her. He prattled on about proprieties while he dreamed of his lost love, who had betrayed him with his brother. Rani had indeed heard all the servants' juicy gossip about the hasty Christian marriage between the Spanish half-caste and Benjamin's lady.

      
“How could any woman be so foolish as to let a golden, magical lover like Benjamin escape?” she asked the wolf, who lay stretched across the bed alongside of her. “Perhaps they were not lovers!” The sudden inspiration struck her. How foolish she had been. Perhaps Jewish
gadje
had the same strict morals as Rom and it was only Miriam Toulon who broke them. Perhaps there was still a chance for Rani Janos to win Benjamin's heart after all. She had only tried Agata's love philter once in the wine on their journey to Marseilles, but he had scarce drunk of it. The vial contained enough for several more doses.

      
“I shall go to the market and obtain some fine wine to tempt his palate—and to hide the taste of the philter. Perhaps a special goblet? No, he would ask where I came by it and grow angry when he learned twas stolen.”

      
Shrugging, she rolled from the bed and began to dress. There was much to do before tonight. Benjamin had been most generous with his coin, furnishing her with brightly colored skirts and soft linen tunics. She even had slippers for her feet, a nicety he insisted upon even when she protested that
Romni
only wore shoes when it was too cold to go barefoot.

      
The
gadje
had strange customs. Benjamin disliked all the beautiful gold jewelry she had spent her life accumulating and told her she looked far prettier when she wore but a small amount. As in the matter of bathing, she acquiesced, hiding her treasures in the bottom of a fine carved chest in her room. All her toe rings had to be dispensed with since she could not wear the slippers and them at the same time. Only a half dozen bracelets, two necklaces and one large pair of ear loops remained to adorn her person.

      
Rani brushed her hair until it glistened, falling in thick, tumbling curls below her waist. Inspecting herself in the mirror she decided she liked being clean, even if she did resent the dearth of jewelry. Her small feet neatly encased in soft kid slippers, she twirled her full aqua skirts before the mirror once, then slipped from her room.

      
The waterfront market stalls of Marseilles combined the most fascinating sights, sounds and smells of any fair she had ever seen in seventeen years of wandering the highways of Europe. Even Rome and Paris paled by comparison. The closest were those in Andalusia. Flower stalls were everywhere, for Marseilles was famous for its roses. The brilliance of the blood-red color was matched by their fragrance. A beet-faced, fat peasant woman hawked them to passersby, her own sweaty smell masked by the flower's sweetness. Big white lilies and spicy pinks lent their tang and delicate colors to the vendor's stalls. Ruth's gardens were filled with just such beautiful spring flowers, but the abundance here was overwhelming.

      
Rani also loved the contrasts, for set between the beautiful banks of fragrant flowers were spice sellers whose East Indian pepper and turmeric filled the air with a burning tingle. And, of course, the fishermen unloaded their bounty from the sea directly on the worn wharfs where the sun's heat quickly brought an incredible stench of tunny, sardines and mackerel that all the roses on earth could not drown. Rough fishmongers wearing red bandanas about their heads called out in Provencal. The soft whispers of Venetian silk merchants and the rhythmic accents of Arab traders blended together in wonderful cacophony.

      
Polishing off a flaky meat pastry purchased from a street vendor, Rani licked her fingers, a habit she knew Benjamin deplored. Such freedom! The sun shone, the cool ocean breezes wafted across the Lacydon—this was a day to rejoice. She felt her
Romani
blood stir and wanted desperately to set up a stall of her own and tell fortunes. Living with Benjamin had its compensations, but Rani Janos had grown up living by her wits. Life was an adventure to be savored. Sighing, she rubbed her hands on her skirts and felt her palms itch. She could at least keep her skills honed by stealing something.

      
“There is no reason for me to grow soft and slow as a
gadji
even if Benjamin has given me coins enough to purchase that wine,” she murmured to herself. Swishing her hips enticingly, she watched the scrawny little wine merchant's beady eyes narrow on her. Now she knew what such blatant male lust meant. Rani smiled. She would lure him into her snare, then shortchange him when she purchased her wine.

      
He would never know what had happened.

      
Henri watched the black-haired wench near his stall. At first he thought her a whore with her swaying hips and bold, tantalizing looks, but when she began to jingle a fat purse and inspect his wares, he decided she was probably some rich man's piece, kept well enough to pay a dear price for his best wine.

      
“Here, mistress, smell of this. Is it not like the sweetest perfume from Arabia?” He held up a fat wineskin and unfastened the neck.

      
Rani sniffed. “Tis sour. Surely you have better.” She let her coins clink meaningfully in the pouch at her waist.

      
“Ah, yes. I can see you appreciate the very best. This is from the north where steep hillsides and cool summers bring forth the finest ruby wines.” He gave her a taste and was pleased when she favored him with a radiant smile.

      
They haggled over the price and Rani let him exact a sum significantly higher than the wine was worth. Smiling, she gave him a large gold coin and watched as his eyes widened and he licked his thin grayish lips with greed.

      
Henri made change for her and handed her the coins. When he turned to cork up the skin container, Rani exchanged his larger denomination coins for coppers in the blinking of an eye and then let out a cry of outrage. “What means this! I pay you with a gold florin and you return coppers?”

      
“I gave you no copper but silver!”

      
A crowd quickly gathered as the tiny young girl and the skinny old man argued like two fierce gamecocks. Rani stomped her foot and let fall some prettily contrived tears, winning over a number of the men and even several older women who obviously disliked the crafty wine seller.

      
“Pay her what you owe her, Henri,” one burly fishmonger cried out menacingly.

      
Rani could sense the mood of the crowd turning to support her. “I do not want his miserable wine any longer. Here are the coppers.” She shoved the coins across the scarred table contemptuously. “Give me back my gold florin and I shall be on my way.”

      
Henri's face turned as red as the roses in Madame Gizelle's stall. “Never!” Then he looked at Gerard's looming bulk and reconsidered. With a snarled oath he withdrew the coin from his purse and threw it at Rani, who caught it deftly. He could have sworn she winked at him before she flounced off in a whirl of bluegreen skirts and gold jewelry!

      
With the silver coins jingling in the pocket hidden in her skirt, Rani strolled farther through the maze of shops and stalls. “Tis a pity I am bound in one place for so long. I cannot again use the coin trick else word will quickly spread.” She sighed, then considered other possibilities.
      
She was an excellent pickpocket and a clever fortune teller.

      
Rani turned toward the Torres palace after making several purchases, including a fine flagon of red wine that cost her less than half of Henri's silver. As she cut across one crowded wharf a sleek high-rigged Portuguese
nao
was being unloaded of its cargo. Everyone knew corsairs raided Spanish treasure galleons. Admiring the pirate's pluck as only a skilled fellow thief could, Rani loitered in the shadows, watching as a jaunty little man with an air of command about his lean, muscular body issued crisp orders. Obviously he was the captain.

      
“A pity. If he but had hair on that shiny pate, he would be rather handsome,” Rani murmured to herself.

      
Another figure called out from across the quay. “Captain Brienne!”

      
“At last. I have been waiting for you. The cargo is unloaded and on its way to your warehouse,” the captain said as he strolled briskly toward the other man.

      
“Then Española proved profitable once again.” The voice was obscured by the noises of the busy quay.

      
Rani strained to see the figure hidden by crates and barrels piled high between them. The word Española piqued her curiosity, for it was Benjamin's birthplace. She slid from behind a large crate and began to pursue the fading voices when suddenly a large meaty hand fastened on her shoulder and tangled in her hair.

      
“What is your hurry, pretty little tart? I have need of you more than the captain does.”

      
“Let me go, you oaf!” Rani flung away his hand, only to have the big sailor seize her with his other one. He was quite drunk in spite of the early hour. She let loose a volley of remarkable oaths as she twisted and kicked in his clumsy grasp. When the treasured flagon of wine slipped from her grasp and shattered on the cobblestones, blind fury overtook her. She broke free of the drunken sailor and turned with a snarl, kicking with one slipper clad foot at the place where it could inflict maximum damage.

      
Her suitor gave a gurgle of agony and clutched at his groin as he sank to his knees. Rani turned to run, but the watch for once was on patrol. Sailors from
Le Revenant
, Brienne's ship, flocked to comfort their compatriot as one guard seized Rani roughly.

      
“Whores who attack our seamen are dealt with severely, wench,” the watchman said.

      
“I am no whore! I live in the home of Isaac Torres. I was but shopping for wine in the market when this drunken lout seized me.”

      
“Shopping? Alone without escort?” The taller of the two watchmen looked at her with cold pewter eyes. “You have the look of a
caraque
about you.”

      
“I saw her in an altercation with a wine seller earlier, one man from the gathering crowd said. “She tricked a purse full of fine silver from Henri.”

      
“Pah! I say let us take her to the goal and toss her in,” the short, stocky guard said as he began to drag Rani by her arm.

      
“You are offal a goat would reject! Too vile for a leper to touch! Whoreson bastard! Take your hands off me while you still possess fingers!”

      
Returning home after visiting an ill seaman in a waterside inn, Benjamin heard Rani's strident voice and sighed in consternation. “What devilment now?” He turned Avarroes toward the dull roaring of a mob assembling on one wharf. Rani was being dragged off by two men wearing the livery of the city's watch. “God only knows what she has stolen!” He cursed with the fluency acquired during his sojourn with Pescara's army. Riding into the crowd, he used Avarroes to clear a path until he confronted the two watchmen and their thrashing, cursing captive.