"There are none," said Vincenzo unconvincingly. "It was the house of an old woman. Some say a witch. But we do not believe in witches, do we, Vittorio?"

"Better a woman's house than a man's," I said as I turned to go. "It will probably be clean."

And so it was. Clean and tidy and, while quite small, hung liberally with shelves and cabinets containing every sort of herb and potion that a witch, or more likely a country apothecary, would ever need. There were scrubbed pots hung above the hearth, and the place was well stocked with candles-a great boon for a man alone at night in a dark wood. As promised, a small stream ran clear over its rocky bed just a stone's throw from the house.

It seemed a place of great comfort for the concocting of my plan.

I began to write at once.

The scheme itself was more than formidable. To be considered was the choice of conveyance and my stealing back into Florence unrecognized. There was Juliet's liberation from her father's house, though I had great faith in this part, remembering her intrepid adventuring on our wedding night. But even if we should escape undetected from Florence, where would we go from there? How would we live? My skills would be useful in anyone's orchard, but without a small fortune we would be no more than servants of another man. Did I dare ask Juliet to relinquish the privileged life she had known? Juliet, a lady's maid? A laundress?

I believed that my father would gladly sell a portion of his land to stake us, but the thought sickened me. And even if our fortunes saw us in comfortable circ.u.mstances, would we-my bride and I-be forced in our exile from home and family to relinquish our good names so as not to be found, and myself branded as a criminal?

I fell into the crone's bed, my head spinning, and slept fitfully. I awoke to a pouring rain that continued all that day, rendering the narrow path out too muddy to traverse. The forest was so sodden and lonely and gray that in quiet moments all manner of demon memories descended upon me. The senses that had cheered me so, now haunted and depressed me. Sight of the fiery inferno at Capelletti Silks. The feel of my clothing soaked through with Marco's blood. Jacopo's stinking breath. His evil whispers.

Acts of the blackest revenge festered and grew in my heart. It pained me to know I had come full circle from seeker of peace to purveyor of vengeance. I wondered if these were the same that my grandfather had felt for Juliet's family, causing him to push my father into the violence that had brought down so much misery on both our houses.

Worse still, my heroic plans of rescue seemed ever less coherent.

All that was clear were my thoughts of Juliet, a vision of her lovely face, and the feel of her warm, yielding flesh as real as though I was holding her naked in my arms. Verse began to come in fits and starts-phrases and odd stanzas.

Here in exile, expelled from her sight, all thoughts of my Juliet, faithful and light.

Not in flesh but in spirit she is here, in a house in the wood, now my refuge, my lair.

She is all that divides me from grief and despair, the taste of her, sound of her, scent of her hair.

Insubstantial as they were, the words were my salvation. Without them, without thoughts of my love, I would have gone mad. At times I believed I already had.

Chapter Twenty-three.

Wedding plans were immediately begun.

Papa went to meet with Lucrezia's father at the Palazzo Tornabuoni to join in with plans for the marriage. When he left, he took with him a small casket of gold florins, announcing for the hundredth time how proud he was of this privileged wedding celebration. He kissed me on the brow and reminded me of the honor I was bringing to our family.

My mother, frantic with happiness, took me to Papa's warehouse, which had, miraculously, been spared damage from the fire.Workers were gutting the burned office and showroom, and huge carts were arriving with loads of wood to rebuild the inner walls and floors.

I tried but could not avert my eyes from the place in the street where Marco had fallen on Romeo's blade, and words flew unbidden into my head.

b.l.o.o.d.y cobble where they stood, dazed, two friends in death's arms embraced.

What a dark poem about friendship that would have made for Alberti's compet.i.tion, I thought.

Mama pulled me away, tut-tutting that I mustn't be morbid on such a happy occasion. Inside, the head warehouseman had laid out on broad tables Papa's finest wares in every shade of virgin's white. From stark snow to rich ivory. From thick-cut pile velvet and gold brocade to gauzy Chinese silk.

Strangely, the giant scissors from the showroom had survived the fire, and now cleaned and polished, they seemed a proud symbol of the continuity of Papa's business.

With the sound of gay laughter three silkwomen fluttered in, carrying large cases in each hand. They were Florence's finest seamstresses, and I recognized that two of them had been called to work on Lucrezia's gown.

Silenced by my misery, I stood back as Mama took charge. Opening their bags, the women laid out amid the choicest silks their b.u.t.tons, ribbons, frills, and lace. One opened a wooden box filled with thousands of tiny seed pearls, another with sparkling gems of every color, made of paste.

"I like the pearls," Mama told them. "But we will provide our own jewels. Real ones. Come to the house when we are finished here and you can take them."

A stout older silkwoman looked around. "Where is our bride?" She found me hanging back and fixed me in her sight, appraising me closely. "She is quite tall and slender," she said, "but has a nice flare at the hips and a pretty bosom."

Mama smiled proudly.

The woman took my hands and drew me to her. "Come here. Let me measure you." As she wound the tape around my waist, she gazed deep into my eyes for an overlong moment. "What is this?" she said suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

She looked at Mama. "This girl is unhappy," the silkwoman fearlessly announced. And then to me, "You don't want to get married, do you?"

I thought I would die on the spot.

"Nonsense!" my mother cried. "She is the luckiest girl in the world. Imagine the honor. Sharing her wedding day with the Medici."

I was caught in the woman's honest stare as Mama blathered on about my marriage into the Strozzi clan, and the joy it would bring our family in a time of sorrow.

I wondered if my pain was so clear on my face, or if Mama was so terribly blind. But thankfully the silkwoman, who must have known my plight was irrevocable, took pity on me and plastered on a broad grin.

"You're right, Signora Capelletti. I think your daughter's only problem is a touch of gas."

Everyone laughed at that, and I forced myself to smile. I had never felt so helpless, so muddled.

"I'm going to see Lucrezia," I blurted suddenly.

"But we haven't chosen the silk for your-"

"You choose, Mama. You have a better eye for it than me. And I like the pearls, too. Lots of them."

Meeting no one's eye, I fled the warehouse. The litter bearers silently obeyed my orders to take me to Lucrezia's house and leave me there, returning to the factory to carry Mama home.

[image]

I found Lucrezia, who sat with her overblown mother and little Contessina de' Medici at the table, poring over plans for the wedding. I think I surprised Lucrezia as much with my unannounced visit as with the desperate look in my eye.

She said to me in a voice of soothing calm, "Come, sit down with us, Juliet. There is still so much to decide."

Elena Tornabuoni gave me a wary look. She liked me, but her daughter's day in the sun would now be partially eclipsed by a second bride. There was nothing to be done about it. Whatever ire might have been provoked, it was well hidden by efficiency and a veneer of good nature.

"The negotiations between your father and the Strozzi have been concluded, I a.s.sume," she said to me, more a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"And have you and Jacopo signed your marriage contract?" This was Contessina in a kindly tone. She spoke of a man's and woman's mutual pledge of marriage to each other, a paper that was crucial to the legality of the event.

"Not yet," I answered. I hoped they could not hear the dread in my voice.

"What are you waiting for?" Elena asked quite jovially.

The earth to open up and swallow me, I thought, but said instead, "I think it will be tomorrow." I thought, but said instead, "I think it will be tomorrow."

"Sit," insisted Lucrezia's mother, patting a chair next to hers. "We think we have come up with a graceful plan to mingle the two weddings, yet allow for each to bring great honor to the individual families."

I took a seat and tried to look pleased. I did not dare meet Lucrezia's eye.

"In most cases, as you know, the exchange of rings takes place in private," Contessina said, "but in this special circ.u.mstance, with so many who wish to celebrate-besides our families, friends, and guests, Florentines by the thousands will want to be there-we have decided to place this ceremony in the cathedral, under the eyes of the new archbishop of Florence."

I was thrown into silent but utter confusion. All I could see before me were visions of Friar Bartolomo in the modest chapel of San Marco at midnight. The rough weave of my gown, a doublet for my bodice, and the sweet eyes of Romeo as we married with the simplest words, the blessings of the church . . . and of Dante.

Now the archbishop of Florence!

Now a magnificent wedding ceremony under the cathedral dome.

A pearl-encrusted gown.

Thousand of onlookers.

"The archbishop is a young man, and still a little wet behind the ears," Elena said, "but such an occasion calls for a high church presence, don't you think, Juliet?"

"Oh. Yes. Very high."

"Of course there will be a notary there at the church...."

"Did we not decide on two," Elena said, "one for each couple?"

"Ah yes," Contessina agreed. "So that our sons can deliver a receipt for your dowries to them, and hear the mutual consent of bride and groom." Another legality.

"We were just saying that you and Lucrezia should go to him together," Elena went on, "and take confession. A little note to him . . . he will be delighted.We understand he is quite enamored by the wealth and importance of the Medici."

Always modest, Contessina blushed and lowered her eyes. But she, too, was consumed by these wedding plans for her son. "We thought that when the exchange of rings is finished-"

"Do you know whether Jacopo plans three rings or four?" Elena interrupted.

I shook my head. I had no idea, nor did I want to know.

Contessina, unperturbed by her in-law-to-be, continued. "-then we will proceed with the ductio ad maritum ductio ad maritum-"

"The initiation of cohabitation," Elena added, as though we two idiot girls did not understand the Latin. But of course every girl who ever dreamed of marrying knew what the words meant.

"-everyone escorting the two couples back to the groom's home. In this case we shall all go to the Palazzo Bardi."

Contessina looked pleased. "To my Piero's home, and here our two families' guests will celebrate with a great feast."

"That is the next order of business," Elena added, looking at me. "Your mother and Allessandra Strozzi will be paying for that."

I was squirming in my chair by now, thinking this could get no worse.

"When the festivities are over," Contessina went on, taking my eye and holding it, "Juliet, you, your family, friends, and your father's clients will leave for the Palazzo Strozzi...."

"And hope that not too many raucous youths will be out to taunt your cortege with their obscene noises and songs . . . ," Elena added playfully.

Even Contessina smiled at that. "Your wedding gifts will be awaiting you there, and then you and your new husband will be put to bed." She looked at her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. "Lucrezia and Piero have requested that the guests be ejected before their first coupling." Then she looked at me with kind eyes. "Is that your desire, too, Juliet?"

All that emerged from my mouth was a croaking sound.

Lucrezia stood suddenly. "I think Juliet and I should go to my room and write the archbishop."

"A splendid idea," Elena agreed.

Lucrezia took me by the hand and led me up the stairs. Several times my knees threatened to collapse under me. We went to her sleeping chamber, now crowded with marriage chests, open and overbr.i.m.m.i.n.g with gifts of linens and tapestries, gold plate, and Venetian gla.s.sware. The door closed behind us and I stood quaking in a cold sweat. Whispering like a criminal, I told her the truth. How Romeo had come to my balcony door on the night of the fire set by Jacopo. Romeo's account of Marco's murder. The true killer. Finally I spoke of our wedding bed and the joy-despite the horrors surrounding us-that we had given and received in each other's arms.

Lucrezia listened with rapt attentiveness, nodding and making small sounds of encouragement that helped me go on. By the time I had finished, all judgment had drained away as infection recedes from an angry, suppurating wound, and she was, again, my dear and loyal friend.

"So you believe me when I say that Romeo did not murder my cousin?"

"I believe that Jacopo hated Romeo. That jealousy festers in his heart. And I do believe him capable of such an act."

"And Romeo not not?"

Lucrezia smiled. "And Romeo not. For all his impetuousness and willfulness and love of danger, he is not a murderer." She took up both my hands in hers. "And he loves you so deeply. I wish . . ." She paused and her eyes filled suddenly with tears. "I wish that Piero loved me as much."

"Oh Lucrezia, he will! Once you are husband and wife and you share a life together"-I felt myself blushing-"and a bed, he will adore you. It may be a marriage of convenience now, but it will become a marriage of love. I'm sure of it."

"You cannot marry Jacopo," she said in the soberest tone.

"No, I cannot."

"It would be bigamy, and a sin against G.o.d."

A sin against the G.o.d of Love, I thought, then said, "But what can I do? Romeo is exiled. He would be killed on sight if he returned here." I thought, then said, "But what can I do? Romeo is exiled. He would be killed on sight if he returned here."

"Juliet." Lucrezia squeezed my hands tightly. "You cannot wait another day. You must tell your parents the truth."