Ursula looked on, smiling while father and daughter whispered together. She felt generous in this final hour, knowing that the next morning would dawn without the irksome presence of either Alessandra or Emilia. Families were discouraged from visiting their daughters, as contact with the outside world was contrary to the purposes of the cloister.

Alessandra curtsied and kissed her stepmother's hand. Pierina jumped down from the cart and threw her arms around her sister, sobbing unreservedly.

"Come off with me for a moment," Alessandra said to her, looking at her father for permission. "Is it all right?"

Carlo nodded, and Alessandra walked off with her arm around Pierina, far enough away where they couldn't be heard. But no words pa.s.sed between them. Pierina's eyes overflowed, but she sniffed and stifled her sobs. They hugged so hard then that it seemed to each of them their hearts would break. Pierina asked, "How will I remember her without you here to help me?"

Alessandra had no answer for her.

Dodo wailed when she said good-bye, kissing her wetly with his red lips, as pretty as a girl's. Emilia cried freely, torn between sorrow at leaving three of the children behind and relief that at least there would be someone to watch over absentminded Alessandra.

At last, when every embrace was given and every word said, Carlo rang the bell and two black-clad nuns appeared. They attached themselves to Alessandra and Emilia like crows to carrion, leading them away, out of the daylight, into the cloister.

Nine

Emilia found herself with not enough to do for the first time in all her forty years. her forty years.

Alessandra had little need and less desire for a lady's maid. Emilia folded and refolded the items of clothing they'd brought along, and picked sprigs of lavender from the convent garden to tuck between them. She regularly brought out and aired the blue silk dress, making sure it was safe from mold and mice. But Alessandra shooed her away when Emilia tried to brush her hair or wash her feet, saying, "I cannot think, Emilia, with you fussing about me so!"

When the day was fair, Alessandra sat in the garden to plan and dream, with a prayer book, as often as not, sitting open but unread across her lap.

It was a silent convent, at least as regarded the professed nuns-and the lack of conversation was driving poor Emilia half mad. She'd taken to talking to Alessandra's two finches, complaining about the scant food, the inferior quality of the linens, and the cold. She spoke of the advantages of marrying young and marrying well, of the silliness of girls who thought themselves unready for marriage, despite the fact that she herself was married and a mother by the age of fourteen. She entrusted to the birds all sorts of confidences she hoped Alessandra would overhear and take to heart.

But Alessandra fled whenever Emilia launched into one of her one-way dialogues with the birds. She'd find a tall narrow window that let her sit and listen to the rain. She sat in the library and explored the books there-although there were only a few, and those of little interest, that weren't to be found in her father's library at home.

A couple of the novices were friendly, but mostly the nuns kept their distance from her. Emilia was surprised to see Alessandra-normally a curious and outgoing girl-show so little interest in the other inmates of the place where they would both be spending a year or more. Emilia made up for the indifference of her young mistress by forging good relationships, first in the kitchen and then in the laundry. It exasperated her that Alessandra hardly seemed to notice how the quality of both the food and their linens had improved after such a short time, thanks to Emilia's efforts.

For all the sweetness of her nature, Alessandra could indeed be exasperating. She seemed to keep a veritable a.r.s.enal of secret objects beneath her skirts now-a notebook in which she scribbled furiously whenever she thought Emilia wasn't looking, and oddly enough, a knife-a big dagger of the very sort that Nicco had lost. Had Alessandra stolen it from him? Did the girl have some reason to fear for her safety? Emilia shook her head and held her counsel, except when she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself anymore, and spoke of her troubles to the birds.

Carlo was paying a high price to have his elder daughter cloistered among the Sisters, and they treated her with a mixture of respect for her wealth and contempt-or perhaps it was envy-for the worldly destiny awaiting her.

Six months after her arrival, the Mother Superior sent a novice to summon Alessandra. Emilia, mad with curiosity and dread, followed along as closely as she could without actually treading on Alessandra's heels.

The Mother Superior eyed Emilia with disapproval before turning, rather deferentially, to the young signorina signorina. "A messenger has come with news from your home."

"Oh, Lord!" wailed Emilia. "Has that fool of a kitchen maid burned the place down?"

"Hush, Emilia!" whispered Alessandra.

Emilia looked fearfully from the Mother Superior to Alessandra and back again. "Not the master! Please, Reverend Mother, tell us that the signorina signorina's father is well!"

The expression on Alessandra's face showed alarm. "Who is the messenger, Reverend Mother, and what news does he bring?"

The Mother Superior pa.s.sed a scroll across her desk to Alessandra.

Alessandra-who read the note holding it close to her chest, so that Emilia couldn't make out a single word of it-looked pale when she raised her eyes, but her voice was steady. "Emilia, please ready our things-only the essentials. We'll need to leave immediately."

Rising, the Mother Superior put one hand on Alessandra's head and made the sign of the cross with the other. Alessandra bowed and thanked her for her blessing before she and Emilia hurried back to their chamber.

"Bad news, Miss?"

Alessandra began a.s.sembling a small pile of her belongings. "Don't stand there staring, Emilia! Pack your things!"

"So it's only a short time we'll be away?"

"Hush and gather your belongings! We're never coming back to this place."

Emilia was trying to puzzle out what it could all mean. Then a look of happiness dawned on her face. She opened the trunk and took out Alessandra's blue silk dress, briefly touching her cheek to the pearl-studded fabric and sniffing in the scent of lavender. "It will travel so much better in the trunk, Miss." She made a quick mental inventory of their room, trying to think of some other way to carry the dress safely.

Alessandra caught her gaze. "Leave it," she said quietly.

Emilia gazed back at her, as uncomprehending as an innocent animal looking into the butcher's eyes. "But why, my pet? You'll surely need your wedding gown."

"There's no time to explain now."

Emilia reasoned that Alessandra's fiance must be very rich indeed if such a dress were to be left behind! She placed it back into the trunk, wishing she herself were slim enough to fit into it-or that at least she could give it to one of her granddaughters. "But Pierina will want it, dear, even if you have no more need of it!"

"She can come get it then."

Slipping an escaped sprig of lavender into the silken folds, Emilia placed the dress back in the trunk. And then, furtively-as if she hoped Alessandra somehow wouldn't see her-she laid her hands on the finches' cage.

"Leave the birds, Emilia. We won't be able to carry them."

Tears leaked out of Emilia's eyes then. "We can't just leave them here, with no one to feed them! I will give them to Sister Paolina-I won't be a moment!"

Alessandra paused in her work of tying her little pile of things into a bundle. She looked at the pair of finches in their pretty cage. Their clipped wings had long ago grown back again. She wondered, even in her haste, if they would remember how to use them. "Let them go, Emilia-let them fly away." She pried the cage out of Emilia's hands, placing it on the ledge of the window-then lifted the latch of the gate. "Fly!" she whispered. She had to shake the birds out of their prison. And just as if they'd never been caged, they flew-beautifully-straight into the sky.

Fighting back her own tears, Alessandra flung the empty cage to the floor and continued her packing, not daring to meet her nanny's eyes.

It was a time of day when most of the nuns were at their work in the orchards and fields. Few saw Alessandra and Emilia leave with the comely young man who arrived on a horse and led a brindled donkey-the same that he himself had ridden two years before, when he'd arrived at their house in Persiceto.

Emilia mounted the donkey, with much drama and hoisting, sitting with her plump legs stretched out astride the saddlebags, distressed about the birds and the blue dress, and calling out to all the saints that she was about to fall off and break her noggin.

Alessandra climbed up to ride on the horse behind Giorgio. Although Emilia pelted him with questions, he was as silent as if he were one of the Sisters of Sant'Alba-and Alessandra refused to explain what in Heaven was going on.

After an hour's riding, Emilia called out, "The master's house is north, not south of here. We must turn at the crossroads. Alessandra, tell him to turn us around! Do his ears serve him as badly as his tongue?"

But Alessandra pretended not to hear, and Giorgio led them farther away and off the road completely, into a little stand of willows near a rushing stream. He and Alessandra both dismounted and suddenly, much to Emilia's horror, began stripping off their clothes.

"Santa Maria!" she cried. "They are possessed!" she cried. "They are possessed!"

When Alessandra had stripped down to her hose and chemise, she began putting on everything Giorgio had just taken off. Emilia watched, garment by garment, as her young mistress was transformed before her eyes from maiden to lad.

"Oh," she cried, shielding her eyes. "It is an abomination-an evil dream! Dio mio Dio mio, let me awaken!"

Giorgio, wearing nothing but his linen breeches and chemise, tried to help Emilia off the donkey, but she kicked at him and pulled his hair. "No, you devil! You shall not have my virtue!'

Alessandra rolled her eyes. "Calm yourself, Emilia, and get down from there."

"Run, my dear girl! Save yourself! I'll hold him off as long as there's breath in my body."

Alessandra came up close to Emilia and patted her leg. "You've often said you'd do anything for me." She coaxed Emilia down to the ground. "That's the way! Now-there's a set of lovely men's clothes for you in the saddlebag."

At these words, Emilia collapsed in a quivering heap. "Let G.o.d take my soul, Sant'Agata, while I am still a virtuous woman!"

Alessandra, out of patience, stamped her foot. "What a star-crossed moment it was when Papa thought of sending you with me! I beg you, Emilia-take off your gown and kirtle like a good girl and put on these breeches."

Emilia howled like a wounded animal.

Alessandra exchanged a look with Giorgio, who shrugged his shoulders. Turning back to Emilia, she said, "All right-don't put them on. But if you don't, I shall leave you here by yourself and the wolves will eat you as soon as darkness falls."

Emilia seemed suddenly to think better of her resistance, although she sniffed and sighed and muttered darkly about the sin of subverting one's gender, quoting chapter and verse from the Book of Deuteronomy. Alessandra stood by her, as if mistress and servant had changed roles, helping Emilia dress herself and stashing the capacious lavender-and sweat-scented everyday clothes in the newly emptied saddlebag.

Emilia's thin hair fit neatly beneath her cap. But when she looked down and saw how her much-used b.r.e.a.s.t.s, without the support of her kirtle, made for a convincing paunch-pooled above her belt-she shrieked in horror.

Alessandra, surveying her, looked quite satisfied. "The transformation is perfect! What do you think, Giorgio?"

Giorgio gave a nod of approval for Emilia but then shook his head at Alessandra. He touched his hair, which was cut short, in the usual style. "Y-y-y-your h-h-h-"

"My hair! You're right. Emilia, come here and put it in a braid for me."

"I won't!"

"What is the matter with you? You've been hovering around me like a mayfly for the past six months, wanting to braid my hair. Braid it now!"

"I won't let you cut off your curls, Alessandra Giliani, for I know quite well that's what you have a mind to do."

"Braid it, or I'll braid it myself-and I'm bound to make a botch of it." Alessandra got her knife out of its scabbard, now hanging from the belt at her waist. It glinted so fiercely in the noonday light and looked so long that Emilia screamed.

"You'll cut your very head off!"

"Please, Emilia-I beg you! The sun is past its zenith and we have a long way to go."

Emilia combed out Alessandra's chestnut curls, kissed them, and then quickly wove them into a thick, ropy braid.

"Stand back now," said Alessandra. She was also a bit worried about cutting herself with the knife, which she'd sharpened often but had put to little use so far, apart from dressing game when it still belonged to Nicco. She held the braid in one hand while hacking away at it, from the neck out, with the other. She'd never cut anyone's hair before and it shocked her how tough a rope the braid was. She had to saw away at it, and despite her full intention of being brave, tears sprang into her eyes as she did so. It felt as if she was sawing off one of her own limbs.

When the last strands broke free, Alessandra looked down at this part of her that was now a separate thing. Then she handed it, half tossing it, to Emilia, who cradled it against her.

"There," said Alessandra. And then, using a voice that seemed more masculine to her-in fact, imitating Nicco, she said, "There!" again.

Giorgio smiled at her.

"You're sure you'll be all right, Giorgio? You have nearly as far to walk, I would wager, as we have to ride."

He shook his head, dismissing her concerns. "I was beset by robbers," he sang as he ripped the undergarments he wore and then smeared dirt on them, "on my way back from Bologna. They took everything-the animals, their cargo, and even my clothes."

"What conspiracy is this?" said Emilia, looking up from the precious braid, her voice br.i.m.m.i.n.g with outrage.

"A well-planned one, Emilio!"

"Emilio?"

"From now on, you are Emilio. Now get back up on your steed, my good man!"

Emilia let herself be pulled and pushed back onto the donkey by her cross-dressed mistress and the half-naked illuminator, all the while praying aloud, "Oh, Lord, drive the Devil from her!"

"Honestly, Emilia! I'm no more possessed than you are."

"You've a hectic flush in your cheeks." And then, when she'd taken a good look at Alessandra, she spoke in a kinder voice. "Marriage isn't that bad, whatever anyone else has told you. Not so bad as to make you run away. A wealthy gentleman, my dear! And probably too old to give you much trouble beneath your skirts, once he's managed to have his squirt and plant a seed."

Alessandra's cheeks really did flush then. "Hurry and be well, Giorgio! Not a word to anyone but the one who already knows-and to him, my affection and grat.i.tude."

Giorgio touched his heart, waved, and then started down the road.

Alessandra called after him, "I'll send word of our address when we reach Bologna. I will never forget this-nor will my brother!"

She kicked her horse and started out in the direction of the city, with Emilia's donkey following close behind.

They could see the bristling towers of Bologna, so they knew they were getting close, and yet it seemed to take forever to arrive. Emilia was too tired and sore to even complain or ask questions anymore. Even Alessandra, who rode with ease (thanks to Nicco's instruction), was tired and aching in every part of her.

The sun was low and turning red behind them when they reached the closest northwest gate, the Porta San Felice. The top of the Basilica glowed in the last golden rays of light. A line of birds was gathered overhead on the highest westernmost edge, unwilling to surrender the day until the sunlight disappeared. Alessandra also wanted to savor this day and this moment. She had never been to the city without one or both of her parents. This day marks the beginning, This day marks the beginning, she told herself, she told herself, of my real life. of my real life.

The guard at the gate asked their business.

"I am a student," said Alessandra, trying to sound more like her brother than herself. She gestured with her thumb toward Emilia. "My servant."

The guard looked at them more carefully then, and Alessandra was certain that he would see through their disguises.