Rose Red (3 page)

“Your best hope of safety continues to lie in
that mistaken belief. Thus, two or three times a year, I pretend to
make a retreat to a monastery built high in these mountains. In
fact, I do stop at the monastery for a few days both before and
after I come here, in case anyone should enquire too closely as to
my whereabouts. Thanks to you, madonna, I now have a reputation as
a deeply religious man,” Luca ended on a chuckle.

“As long as I live, I shall always be
grateful to you, Luca, for your faithful honesty toward my family,”
Eleonora responded. “Wherever I am, there you are welcome.”

“As always, it is a great joy to see you
again, madonna. And no small pleasure to reassure myself of my
sister’s continued good health.” These formal courtesies completed,
Luca embraced Valeria and also Bartolomeo, who in his exile from
Monteferro was serving Eleonora as majordomo as well as supervisor
of the estate surrounding the villa.

The evening meal was more lively than usual
with Luca there. He regaled those around the table with the latest
gossip of the world beyond the mountains.

“
Genoa
and the Holy Roman Emperor have allied against the power of
Venice,” Luca said. “Sienna and Florence are at odds again. The
Sforza duke of Milan rules his city with an iron fist and holds out
against all challengers. By next month or next year, or even next
week, these alliances will change again as friends become enemies
and enemies, friends. These dukes and princes cannot be trusted, as
you know to your great sorrow, Madonna Eleonora.
Gesu,
what a time in
which to live! I fear this constant warfare born of greed and
treachery will never end. It’s bad for business, you know. Bankers
are forced to make loans to the rulers of these battling states so
they can wage their foolish wars. The loans are seldom repaid. And
then the bankers suffer.

“But enough of such depressing subjects,”
Luca went on with a smile. “As to more cheerful news, the Duke of
Ferrara is to marry the famously beautiful daughter of King
Ferrante of Naples.”

Rosalinda sat with her back straight, as she
had been taught to do, and she smiled and spoke when she was
expected to respond to some question or remark directed at her, but
she had little interest in gossip about people she did not know.
She did know her mother well, however, and Rosalinda was aware that
beneath the superficial talk there was an unspoken conversation
going on at the table. She could guess why it was so. Eleonora was
protecting her daughters. Again.

“Good night, my dears.” At last Eleonora rose
from the table, the others rising with her as a mark of courtesy.
She looked first at Bianca and then at Rosalinda. “It is time for
you to be in bed.”

At once the dutiful Bianca kissed her
mother’s cheek and said good night to the other adults. Rosalinda
followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. She was sure the most
interesting part of the evening was about to unfold and, as usual,
she and her sister would miss it. As she mounted the staircase
behind Bianca, Rosalinda glanced back to see her mother leading
Luca, Bartolomeo, and Valeria across the hall toward her private
sitting room.

“Always, they have secrets,” Rosalinda
muttered.

“You don’t want to know their secrets,”
Bianca told her.

“Oh, yes, I do.” Rosalinda paused outside her
sister’s bedroom door. “They think we are still children, but we
aren’t anymore. Were we not living in this strange exile, both of
us would have been married years ago. We would be mothers by now
and no one would treat us as if we were ignorant babies. Don’t you
want to be treated like a grown woman, Bianca? Or do you want to
continue to live like an untouched nun for the rest of your
life?”

“Of course I want to marry. I can remember
how happy Mother and Father were together, always laughing, always
touching hands. I remember the beautiful warmth that emanated from
them and enfolded you and me in their love. I want the same kind of
affection for myself. I want it for you, too, Rosalinda.”

“In that case, let us make a solemn vow,”
Rosalinda suggested. “Let us swear that we will marry only for
love.”

“For love alone.” At once, Bianca nodded her
agreement with this sentiment. “I do solemnly swear to you,
Rosalinda, that I will marry only if I can be assured of enjoying
the kind of love our parents knew.”

“And so do I most solemnly swear the same.”
Rosalinda put out her hand and Bianca clasped it. They stood there
in the upper hall, smiling at each other, until Rosalinda spoke
again. “Let us hope the loving men who ask for our hands will also
be brave and handsome.”

“How I wish it could be so,” Bianca said with
a little laugh. “But the truth is, in our situation we are not
likely to meet any suitable men who would dare to offer for us. The
vow we just made is meaningless, however much we wish our dreams
could come true.”

“I think we ought to take steps to change our
situation,” Rosalinda declared, “and work to make those dreams into
reality.”

“No!” Bianca’s face went white, her eyes
widened with fear. “You must promise me you will do nothing
foolish. Rosalinda. You simply do not understand how

an impulsive act on your part might be the
end of us, and of Mother. I could not bear to see violence done
again. You were not there on that dreadful day. You do not know how
terrible it was. I want no blood spilled on my account.” Bianca
shuddered, covering her face with both hands.

“Hush, don’t cry.” Rosalinda’s arms were
around her sister’s heaving shoulders. “I won’t cause trouble. I
promise.”

It took a while, but eventually Rosalinda was
able to convince her sister to undress and go to bed. She sat
beside Bianca, holding her hand until the troubled blue eyes closed
and Bianca’ s breathing was quiet and even.

Upon leaving her sister’s room to go to her
own bedchamber, Rosalinda noticed the gleam of light coming from
the lower floor. When she looked over the stair railing, she could
see that the light came from her mother’s sitting room, where the
door was slightly open.

Feeling a bit unnerved by her sister’s
display of fear, Rosalinda moved down the stairs, heading toward
the source of light and comfort, to the room where her mother was.
No one was in the hall to stop her. The house was empty and silent.
The few servants at Villa Serenita were the wives or the children
of the loyal men-at-arms who had come north from Monteferro under
Bartolomeo’s command. At this late hour none of them were about.
Save for the light around the edges of the sitting room door and
the quiet murmur of voices from within, the villa slept.

Consumed by curiosity about what was being
said behind that door, Rosalinda crept forward on tiptoe. When she
was nearer, she could hear her mother speaking in a low, passionate
voice.

“So,” Eleonora said with barely contained
pleasure, “at last the man who plotted my husband’s death has met a
similar fate. Federigo Sotani, the Duke of Aullia, is dead. This is
good news indeed, Luca. It would appear there is justice in the
affairs of men, after all.”

“Madonna, I know you have always believed
that the Duke of Aullia arranged for your husband’s assassination,”
came Luca’s voice, “but I still find it difficult to accept that
accusation.”

“In truth,” Bartolomeo put in, “from what you
have said over the years on this matter, Luca, no one knows who
backed Marco Guidi in his family’s bloody rise to power in
Monteferro. It might have been the Duke of Aullia, as you maintain,
Madonna Eleonora. Or it might have been Venice. The Venetians have
spies everywhere and, where profits from trade are involved,
murderous intrigues are not beneath them. Or it could have been
someone else, someone with a secret motive of his own.”

“Do not overlook the most obvious
conspirator,” Luca said. “We now know that Niccolo Stregone was a
secret advisor to Marco Guidi at the time he seized power in
Monteferro.”

“Ah, yes,” said Valeria, “but we also know
that Stregone fled across the border to neighboring Aullia soon
after we escaped from Monteferro, a fact that indicates he quickly
fell out with the Guidi and feared for his life.”

“He then took service with the Duke of
Aullia,” Eleonora noted. “Which only proves the truth of my
contention. The Duke of Aullia was in some way involved in the
death of my husband, Marco Guidi was little more than the duke’s
puppet in that sad affair, and Stregone was the connection between
Aullia and the Guidi family. Murderers and thieves always stick
together for their own safety.”

“And now the Duke of Aullia has been
assassinated,” Valeria said in a pensive tone. “How interesting
that Stregone should be in each city when its duke was killed.”

“Stregone.” Eleonora repeated the name in a
voice throbbing with hatred. “That nasty dwarf is vicious, devious,
and diabolically clever.”

“He is therefore a very dangerous man,” Luca
added, “who would not stop at murder if the murder would benefit
himself in any way. Which, madonna, is why I believe he was deeply
involved with your husband’s death, either in the planning or as
the actual instrument of the murder.”

“I thank all the saints in heaven that I no
longer have anything to do with any of these matters,” Eleonora
said. “Where once I was entangled in the maneuverings of those
power-hungry rulers, now I care more for my beloved children and my
garden than I do for wealth and power. I find I sleep more securely
here at Villa Serenita than I ever did at Monteferro.” She broke
off suddenly, turning her head to listen. “Who is there, outside
the door?”

“It’s Rosalinda.” She pushed open the door to
step into the room. “I wanted to talk to you, Mother. I am worried
about Bianca.”

“It is much too late for you to be awake,
child,” Eleonora scolded.

“Indeed, it is late.” Bartolomeo interrupted
with a smile for Rosalinda. “I am certain Luca must be tired after
his long journey. Madonna Eleonora, with your kind permission, may
we continue our discussion tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right, old friend. You are all
excused. Sleep well.” Eleonora waited until her company had left
before she held out a hand to Rosalinda. “Come here, child, and
tell me what is wrong with Bianca.”

Rosalinda did as instructed, pulling a stool
near to the chair where her mother sat. Eleonora took her
daughter’s hands and held them while Rosalinda recounted how, twice
in one day, Bianca had been overcome by her dreadful memories.

“Ah, the poor child,” Eleonora murmured. “No
matter how she tries, she cannot forget the terrible sights she
beheld at too young an age.”

“I think the distress she felt today was my
fault,” Rosalinda confessed. “Whenever I venture too far from the
villa for her comfort, Bianca becomes frightened. Knowing that,
today I made the further mistake of telling her I saw a bear.”
Rosalinda then told her mother, as she had not told Bianca, the
entire story.

“The bear ran out of the trees right into the
path of my horse,” she said. “When I pulled hard on the reins, the
bear ran off again, back into the forest. Only then did I notice
that the path just ahead had crumbled away in a rock fall, so there
was no longer a path there at all, but only a dangerous gap that
opened into a deep ravine. It was almost as if the bear intended to
warn me and, having done so, he then left the vicinity.”

“How very peculiar,” said Eleonora when she
heard this tale.

“Even stranger was my horse’s reaction,”
Rosalinda said. “It did not rear up in fright as you would expect a
horse to do when it suddenly comes upon a bear. It simply stopped
when I pulled on the reins and then stood there quietly until the
bear was gone from sight.”

“An angel must have been watching over you,
keeping you from harm,” Eleonora said. “Or perhaps it was your dear
father’s doing. You mentioned seeing an eagle.” Eleonora’s gaze
moved from Rosalinda’s face to the portrait of her husband.
Girolamo Farisi had been painted with an eagle perched upon his
wrist. He had insisted on the inclusion of his family emblem,
though certain people at the court of Monteferro, criticizing the
picture when it was finished, had whispered most unkindly of
ambition that soared as high as an eagle.

*’Oh, Mother, please,” Rosalinda said,
laughing at this notion, “do you imagine that in heaven Father has
obtained the power to command the eagles as they fly?”

“I can think of no other explanation for what
happened,” said Eleonora with a sniff of offended dignity. “I trust
you will have the good sense not to ride that way again.”

“I think it’s far more likely the bear was an
angel in disguise,” Rosalinda said gently. Well aware of her
mother’s undying devotion to the memory of Girolamo Farisi,
Rosalinda hid her amusement at her parent’s romantic notion as best
she could. And she did not say she would not ride the dangerous
path again. She was not going to make a promise she could not
keep.

* * * * *

Luca stayed at Villa Serenita for two days
more, resting from his long journey and holding private discussions
with Eleonora and her faithful companions, Bartolomeo and Valeria.
Rosalinda did not overhear anything they said on those occasions.
She suspected her mother of taking extra care to be sure that
Rosalinda, and especially Bianca, would not be privy to
conversations that might cause them distress.

On the day after Luca departed, Rosalinda
again went riding alone. At this time of year, each such excursion
was precious to her, for the weather was growing steadily colder.
Soon snow would make venturing into the mountains impossible.
Rosalinda chose the route she had taken on the day when she had
seen the bear. Just before she reached the curve in the path where
the ground had fallen away, she dismounted and walked to the edge
to contemplate the ravine below.