Rose Red (29 page)

At
Valeria’s suggestion, a long table was set up on the terrace so the
evening meal could be served there. The cloth was of fine white
linen, Bianca arranged some of the flowers she had gathered into a
golden bowl for a centerpiece, and Rosalinda fixed wax tapers into
a pair of five-armed gold candelabra so the diners would have light
after the sun had set. Through the long, warm June twilight the
eight of them sat about the table, their spirits high, eating,
drinking Eleonora’s best wine, talking, and laughing.

Andrea sat next to Rosalinda, his hand often
touching hers, his nearness a source of pleasure to her in spite of
the many questions and lingering doubts in her mind. She pushed
both doubts and questions aside, refusing to consider them until
another time. On this evening of reunion she would allow nothing to
spoil Andrea’s happiness, or her own. They were together again. For
the moment, that was all that mattered.

All the others at the table seemed to feel
the same way. Even Eleonora did not speak of the mission on which
she had sent Andrea, instead spending much of her time conversing
with Francesco, who sat at her right hand. Only after the meal was
over and the servants had been sent away, when the cheerful company
lingered beneath a star-strewn sky with a last bottle of wine and a
dish of dried dates and figs for nibbling, only then did the
conversation turn serious, and it was not Eleonora who began the
discussion, but Francesco.

“After listening to Madonna Eleonora and
Bartolomeo describe their plans and your involvement in them,”
Francesco said to Andrea, “I have decided to join you, if you will
have me.”

“I was hoping you would volunteer.” Andrea
responded at once, looking pleased at Francesco’s offer.

“I want to be included, too,” Vanni said.
“You cannot keep me out of it.”

“Of course you will be included.” Andrea
grinned at his brother.

“However,” said Francesco, “I think a change
in plan would be wise.”

“What change?” exclaimed Eleonora. “Andrea
understands exactly what I want him to do, and I expect him to
carry out my orders as we agreed.”

“With the alteration I am suggesting, the end
result will be the same,” Francesco told her, “but if we take
Aullia first, it will then be easier to conquer Monteferro.”

“How so?” Eleonora demanded with a frown.

“I still have friends in the Aullian army,”
Francesco said. “I am certain that many of them will be happy to
join us against the Guidi. Their change of allegiance will reduce
the number of men available to back the Guidi family. That
desertion will make the conquest of Aullia easier. Those same men
will also enlarge the army available to us when we do march on
Monteferro.”

“An interesting suggestion, Francesco,”
Andrea said. “I will consider it most seriously.”

“You have no right to make such a decision
without consulting me,” Eleonora objected.

“I am a soldier, madonna. You are not,”
Francesco said, cutting off her further protest. “Believe me, I too
want revenge on Niccolo Stregone, for the personal reasons which I
have explained to you. As for the Guidi family, I was aware of
their depredations in Monteferro before you and Bartolomeo
described the situation to me. The Guidi have all but ruined a once
prosperous city-state during their years of control over it. While
the people suffer, the Guidi have amassed a huge fortune for
themselves. Now that they hold Aullia, they will soon impose on it
the same high taxes and corrupt government under which Monteferro
struggles.”

“My informants tell me the process of
draining the treasury of Aullia is already well under way,” Andrea
said.

“A large part of the treasury is certainly
draining into the pockets of that evil dwarf, Stregone,” Vanni
voiced his opinion. “If ever there lived a treacherous councilor,
Stregone is that man. Only let me get my hands around his throat
and he will not survive to arrange any more assassinations.”

Bianca made a frightened sound at this
declaration of violent intentions. When Vanni turned to her, to
touch her hand and reassure her, Bianca pulled her fingers from his
and moved her chair away by a few inches. Vanni looked puzzled but
did not comment and soon returned his attention to the
conversation, which was growing more intense.

“Stregone is a wily fox,” said Francesco,
“but we will bring him to earth. I know how to do it.”

“How wily can he be,” asked Rosalinda, “if he
was foolish enough to show himself here? He was almost drowned in
the river, and almost died again when he fell at the
waterfall.”

“He was following Vanni and me,” said
Francesco. “He could not let us get away, and I suspect he did not
trust his henchmen to carry out the task of finding and killing
us.”

“But you did get away.”

“Thanks to you, Madonna Rosalinda.” Francesco
smiled at her from across the table.

Bianca made another soft sound of fear,
making Rosalinda wish for her sister’s sake that the conversation
would change to a different topic. This was not to be. The very
person who should have been most aware of Bianca’s secret terrors
now took up the subject.

“Why was it so important to Stregone that you
and Vanni not get away from him?” Eleonora asked. She had been
listening with close attention to what the men were saying. With
her eyes narrowed in awakening mistrust, she addressed Francesco.
“Are you so dangerous to Stregone that he would try to kill you
himself?”

“Not I,” Francesco answered her. “Vanni. And
Andrea. He would then want to eliminate me as a witness to his
crimes.”

“Why?” Eleonora asked again, her voice
charged with a peculiar tension.

“To make himself secure,” Vanni said. “He
killed our father and tried to kill us, too. He would have
succeeded were it not for Francesco’s bravery in getting Andrea and
me to safety. We had to fight our way out of the city, the three of
us against Stregone and a dozen of his men. Then they pursued us
into the mountains.”

“I see.” Eleonora spoke somewhat absently.
She appeared to be deep in thought, but Rosalinda had no doubt her
mother was listening to every word Vanni spoke and was drawing her
own conclusions.

“I was wounded in the fight,” Vanni said.
“Stregone himself slashed my left arm, inflicting a deep wound. He
would have killed me had Francesco not seen what was happening and
hastened to my aid. That was when Francesco and I were separated
from Andrea in the confusion. That’s why Andrea and I believed each
other dead for the better part of a year.”

While Eleonora’s calculating glance swept
from Vanni to Francesco and then on to Andrea, Rosalinda put her
hand over Andrea’s. She had not known about the confrontation Vanni
spoke of, the desperate attempt of three men to win through to a
freedom that was scarcely less dangerous than the fight itself.
Andrea had told her only of the loss of his brother and of his
flight to the mountains, claiming that the rest of the details were
too painful to recount. Now it seemed to Rosalinda that Andrea had
never told Eleonora about that battle, either. Rosalinda saw her
mother regarding Andrea with a fascinated, speculative gaze that
suggested there were as many unanswered questions swirling through
her mind as there were in her daughter’s thoughts.

“There are few men important enough to be
assassinated by Niccolo Stregone himself,” Eleonora said, “and
fewer still of those men also have twin sons whom Stregone would
personally want to assassinate. I have asked this question of you
before, Andrea, and always you have evaded an answer. I allowed the
evasion because I needed you to work for me and because I believed
you would carry out my orders as you were sworn to do. Now I must
insist on an honest answer from you. What is your family name?”

“Vanni hasn’t told you?” As he spoke,
Andrea’s fingers closed around Rosalinda’s hand, holding her as if
he feared she would be torn from him if he relaxed his grip.

“Vanni put me off, as you have done,”
Eleonora said. “So did your friend, Francesco, though he was quick
enough to admit to his own family name when I guessed it. I should
have guessed your name, too. I would have done so, had I not been
distracted at that moment.” She shot an accusing glance at
Francesco.

“And what is your guess, madonna?” Andrea
asked in the softest, most dangerous voice that Rosalinda had ever
heard him use.

“Sotani.” Eleonora’s tone matched Andrea’s
for quietness and danger. “It is the name of a family of
vipers.”

“Not true, madonna!” Vanni cried. He would
have said more, but Francesco silenced him with a motion of one
hand.

“It is true.” Eleonora answered Vanni’s
outburst while keeping her eyes on Andrea. “The confirmation of my
assumption lies in Francesco’s insistence that you should use the
army for which I am paying to conquer Aullia first. You young men
are the twin sons of Federigo Sotani, the late Duke of Aullia.”

“Yes, .madonna, we are.” Andrea squeezed
Rosalinda’s hand so tightly that she winced. He did not seem to
notice.

“What a fool I have been!” Eleonora sprang to
her feet. “I am financing the return to power of the sons of the
man who arranged the assassination of my husband!”

“No!” Vanni shouted. He was on his feet, too,
confronting Eleonora face to face. “Our father would never have
condoned such a wicked deed.”

“Vanni is right.” Andrea had not moved. He
still sat next to Rosalinda, with her hand clasped in his, and he
spoke in measured tones. His voice was calmer than his brother’s,
and his face revealed nothing of his emotions. “Our father and
Girolamo Farisi were on friendly terms.”

“They were rivals!” Eleonora declared, her
eyes flashing.

“Friendly rivals,” Andrea insisted. “They
admired and respected each other. You insult the memories of both
men to suggest otherwise.”

“And you insult my intelligence with your
claim of an honest father!” Eleonora leaned forward, her palms
flat, her fingers splayed on the tabletop. “Here you sit, at my
table, having eaten my food and accepted my hospitality for the
night, clutching my daughter’s hand as if she could save you, while
your brother follows Bianca around as if he were a lovelorn puppy.
I tell you, Andrea Sotani, neither you nor your brother will ever
have a daughter of mine to wife!”

“On the contrary, Madonna Eleonora,” Andrea
responded with perfect composure, “I intend to make Bianca Duchess
of Monteferro just as you wanted and, in addition, to make
Rosalinda Duchess of Aullia. Do not forget, you have already
promised Rosalinda to me as my reward for carrying out your plans.
I will not release you from that promise.”

“Reward?” Shocked by this revelation,
Rosalinda snatched her hand away from Andrea’s grasp. “I am no
man’s war booty!” A white-hot fire was burning in her breast. She
knew what it was. Her heart was breaking. Ignoring the pain, aware
of where her duty lay, she got up from her seat to join her
mother.

“There, you see?” Eleonora snarled at Andrea.
“My loyal daughter will not have you.”

“As for Bianca,” Andrea went on as if neither
Rosalinda nor Eleonora had spoken, “You yourself have said to me
that she will need to marry a great nobleman who is strong enough
to hold and rule Monteferro in her name, since a woman cannot rule
on her own. What better nobleman than the brother of the
neighboring duke?”

“Marry?” Vanni exclaimed at this speech. For
a moment he looked stunned at the idea his brother had put forth.
However, he recovered quickly and smiled at the equally astounded
young woman sitting next to him. “Bianca, will you marry me?” He
reached for her hand.

“Marry the son of the man who killed my
father?” Bianca cried, scrambling out of her chair to get away from
him. Quickly, she moved to stand on the other side of her mother
from Rosalinda. “I would rather die!”

“Madonna Eleonora,” Andrea said, maintaining
his calm tones amid the passionate emotions being displayed by the
women, “I advise you to agree to the arrangements Francesco has
described to you. I can promise that Monteferro and Aullia will
exist side by side in friendship and complete harmony for as long
as Vanni and I live, and we will endeavor to see to it that our
children, who will be first cousins, will also live peacefully
together.”

“Do not try to manipulate me with false
promises,” Eleonora cried. “I have believed too many of your lies
to be trapped by them again. You are greedy for power.”

“I did not entrap you, madonna,” Andrea
pointed out to her. “It was your own friend, your honest retainer,
Bartolomeo, who first suggested this plan of capturing Monteferro
to me. Please remember that the entire scheme was originally your
idea.”

“Madonna Eleonora,” Bartolomeo broke into the
quarrel, “you will recall that I have always insisted that the Duke
of Aullia had nothing to do with your husband’s death. Though they
were often rivals, as you say, those two men were never true
enemies. I continue to believe the culprit was Niccolo Stregone,
acting on behalf of the Guidi family.”

“If that is so, why did Stregone flee to
Aullia as soon as my husband was dead?” Eleonora demanded of the
men. “Why did the Duke of Aullia accept Stregone into his court so
readily?”

“Stregone claimed to be fleeing from the
vengeance of the Guidi against him because he had been your
husband’s chief councilor,” Andrea said. “The claim seemed
reasonable and so my father, who was no friend of the Guidi, made a
place for Stregone at his court. It is my belief that Stregone’s
arrival at Aullia was part of a planned deception, that Stregone
secretly remained in the pay of the Guidi family, in return for
which he regularly passed information to them. I believe that
information helped the Guidi to take over Aullia.”