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Sixteen

I n the afternoon Piero disappeared.

Sanchia, Caterina, and Bianca did not return to the castle until almost dusk, and Rosa was waiting when they rode into the courtyard.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Rosa said as soon as she saw Sanchia. “It was that stupid groom’s duty to watch over the boy. I couldn’t be expected to trot after him into the town, could I?”

Sanchia felt her heart leap and then begin to pound wildly. “Piero?” She got down from the mare and ran over to where Rosa stood on the steps. “What are you talking about? What’s happened to Piero?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I always watch him like a hawk. You know that, Madonna Sanchia.” Tears were streaming down Rosa’s cheeks. “It was that stupid Donato who—”

Sanchia grabbed Rosa’s shoulders and shook her. “Stop babbling and tell me what’s happened to Piero.”

“I don’t know.” Rosa gulped and her face twisted in an ugly grimace as she tried to suppress her sobbing. “He was out riding with Donato and the oaf lost him. He should have kept better watch over the boy. If I had been there, I would have—”

“How could he lose him?” Sanchia shook her again. “Piero’s not foolish. He wouldn’t just wander away. How long has he been gone?”

“All afternoon,” Rosa said. “Donato told me they were in the mercato and he turned his back for an instant and Piero was gone.”

“All afternoon? Why did no one send for me?”

“A good question,” Caterina said grimly. “And has anyone told Lord Andreas the boy’s disappeared?”

Rosa shook her head miserably. “Donato rode into the courtyard only five minutes before you came. He’s been scouring the city for the child. He thought to find him before dark and had to return without him. I sent him to find Lord Andreas and confess he had lost Piero.”

“Surely nothing could have happened to Piero,” Bianca said comfortingly. “After all, he’s only a child. Perhaps he wandered away. I’ve often become intrigued watching all the tradesmen working at their crafts in their windows and found myself going farther than I intended.”

“Piero wouldn’t have done that.” Sanchia’s hands dropped from Rosa’s shoulders. “He would never—”

“We’ll find him, Sanchia.” Lion was coming down the steps, pulling on his leather gauntlets. He gave a crisp order over his shoulder and Donato started on the double across the courtyard. Lion turned to Bianca. “Find Marco and have him meet me at the stable. I last saw him painting in the garden.”

Bianca nodded and ran to the castle.

“Piero is a sensible child,” Caterina said sharply. “Sanchia is right. Why couldn’t that dimwitted groom find him?”

“We’ll soon know,” Lorenzo said as he joined Lion. “The people in the city know Piero is under the protection of this family, so no harm should come to him.”

“How do you know? So many things can happen to a child alone in the streets,” Sanchia said fiercely. “You know that, Lorenzo.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo said gently. “Evil things can happen anywhere, but Mandara is safer than the streets of Naples or Florence, Sanchia. Trust me. It is true.”

Sanchia turned to Lion. “I’m going back with you. Perhaps something frightened Piero and he’s afraid to answer when called. He’ll know my voice and come to me.”

Lion nodded. “Come then.” He came a step closer, lifted her onto her horse and handed her the reins. He gazed steadily at her. “We’ll find him, Sanchia. I promise you. We’ll search until we do.”

“He’s so little.” Sanchia blinked back the tears. “We’ve got to find him, Lion. I love him so.”

“I know you do.” For the briefest instant Lion’s hand covered Sanchia’s and then he was gone, striding across the courtyard in the direction of the stable.

They found no sign of Piero that evening, though Lion ordered the search to go on far into the night. The next morning they returned to the city and searched the houses and shops from cellars to roofs.

Piero was not found.

In the late afternoon Lion rode at the head of a troop of men out the city gates to look for him in the countryside surrounding Mandara. It was to no avail.

Piero was not found.

Four more days passed while Lion searched neighboring villages and then in desperation traveled to a Franciscan monastery some eight hours distant.

“You must get some sleep,” Caterina said briskly as she strode out on the battlement toward Sanchia. “You’ve scarcely rested since the boy disappeared. Getting ill won’t bring Piero back.”

Sanchia’s gaze remained fixed on the vineyards to the north of the city. She lifted her hand to rub her temple. “I can’t remember if they tried the winery.”

“The second day.” Caterina paused. “Even the vats.”

Sanchia shuddered. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He must be dead or we would have found him.”

“Nonsense. We should have found him even if he was dead. So not finding him proves nothing.”

Caterina’s abrasiveness was oddly comforting.

“That’s right. They would have found his bo—” She couldn’t say the word.

Her hands clenched on the stone ledge, trying to fight down the sickness the thought brought.

“Bianca told me she’s praying for him. I tried to pray, but I’m not sure God listens to me anymore.

I’ve broken so many of his laws. I’ve stolen and lied.

” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “I’ve committed adultery. ”

“I’ve never been sure God hears me either.

I have an idea He leaves alone the people capable of solving their own problems and concentrates on those who can’t.

It may not seem just to us, but we should not argue with Him.

” Caterina drew her crimson cloak more closely about her.

“It’s growing cooler now that the sun has gone down.

Come in and sup with me. You can do no good out here.

Lion will return when he returns and not before. ”

“I’ll join you shortly.” Sanchia turned and once more gazed out over the countryside. She suddenly stiffened. “Is that someone coming?”

Caterina squinted at the puff of dust barely discernible as horses and riders at a distance. “Possibly. Yes, I think those are horsemen.”

“Lion!” Sanchia turned and ran toward the door leading to the stairs.

“He’s still far away,” Caterina called after her. “Be careful. You’ll hear nothing if you fall down those stairs and crack your head.”

“I’ll be careful but I must…” Sanchia’s words trailed behind her as she left the battlements and started down the first curving flight of stairs.

It was almost an hour later when Lion rode into the courtyard. Sanchia ran forward, her gaze searching Lion’s face. “Piero?”

Lion smiled. “We found him. He’s well, Sanchia.”

Sanchia swayed and reached out to clutch at Tabron’s saddle. “Where?”

“He’ll be here soon. I rode on ahead to tell you.” Lion swung down from the saddle and put his arm around Sanchia’s waist to steady her. “Marco’s bringing him. Piero wouldn’t ride any longer in the wagon in which we found him, so Marco took him up behind him.”

“You found him at the monastery?”

Lion shook his head. “Not three miles from here. We were returning from the monastery when we saw a wagon pulled over on the shoulder of the road. Piero was in the bed of the wagon lying on a pile of blankets. He was bound hand and foot and blindfolded.”

“Bound.” She was stunned. “But why would anyone do that to Piero?”

Lion shook his head. “God knows.” His lips tightened. “But I intend to find out.”

For the first time Sanchia noticed the deep lines of exhaustion graven on either side of Lion’s mouth and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Lion had been searching unceasingly for five days with even less sleep than she had gotten.

She took a step nearer and laid a hesitant hand on his cheek. “You must rest. You look so weary.”

“Now I can rest. The boy—”

“Sanchia!”

Sanchia’s gaze flew to the mounted men who had just galloped into the courtyard. Lorenzo and Marco, and behind Marco clutching at his waist a small, beloved figure.

“Piero!” She dashed across the courtyard.

Piero released his grip on Marco and swiftly slid off the horse into Sanchia’s arms. “I’m back.” His arms were so tight around her she could scarcely breathe. “They took me away but I’m back, Sanchia.”

“Where have you been?” Her hands moved over him anxiously. “Are you all right?” She wrinkled her nose, half laughing, half crying. “You smell terrible , and where did you get those horrible rags?”

“I don’t know.” Piero’s hands were moving over her hair caressingly.

“I don’t know anything. I was walking in the market…

and then my head hurt—” He took a step back and looked at her gravely.

“I couldn’t see anything when I woke up.

I thought I was blind. Then I heard them talking about the blindfold and then I knew—”

“Gran Dio , the boy is filthy.” Caterina came down the steps to the courtyard. “Ask him questions after he’s had a bath and a meal.”

“A good idea.” Marco said, making a face. “And a bath for me too. I must smell as bad as Piero after having him cling to me all this way.” He looked around the courtyard. “Where’s Bianca?”

“In the chapel praying.” Sanchia took Piero’s hand and gripped it tightly. “Why don’t you go tell her Piero’s back safely?”

“Well, perhaps I shall just stop by.” He dismounted and tossed the reins of his horse to a hovering groom. “She’ll want to know her prayers have borne fruit.”

Lorenzo sniffed. “Rather overripe fruit. Be sure not to get too close or you’ll overpower her.”

Marco grinned and started toward the chapel.

A small wagon pulled by a shaggy horse was being driven into the courtyard; it was followed by the eight riders Lion had taken with him that morning.

Sanchia looked hard at the wagon as her hand tightened on Piero’s.

Why had he been tied up and left in the wagon?

More, why had he been taken in the first place?