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He felt the tears sting his eyes even as he shook her. “You’re not dead, Sanchia. We’re both alive.”

“That’s right, you’re alive. You told me.” She suddenly stiffened, her eyes going wide with horror. “No!” She tore out of his grasp and backed away. “Don’t touch me. Are you mad? The plague…”

Lion went icy cold. “Plague? You said Damari, Sanchia.”

But she had turned and was running wildly back toward Mandara, the skirts of her tattered gown flying behind her.

Lion pounded after her. “Cristo , Sanchia. Stop. No one is going to hurt you.” He drew even with her and grabbed her in his arms. “Sanchia cara—”

“You don’t understand.” She was struggling desperately to free herself. “I’ll kill you. I don’t want to kill you. Only Damari. Let me go!”

The tears were now running unashamedly down Lion’s cheeks. “Cara , no…” He drew her closer, his hands feverishly stroking her sooty hair. “Shh…”

She abruptly gave up, slumping against him. “It’s too late anyway. You’ve touched me. Even Damari was afraid to touch me. Medusa…”

He caught her as she swayed, collapsing into unconsciousness.

The bitter odor of smoke was gone. Now the air was pervaded with the odor of wood and something fruity, yet musty.

Sanchia opened her eyes to see Lion bending over her, bathing her forehead.

Dusk enveloped them. The only light piercing the dimness was the sunlight pouring through two small windows high above her.

Dust motes danced in the dual brilliant streams of sunlight and she gazed at them in dreamy fascination.

Two dancing sunbeams…

Lorenzo had said that about Bianca and Marco, hadn’t he? But those sunbeams were no longer dancing; they lay still and quiet in the chapel.

But was there a chapel? Would the stone have withstood the heat of the flames that engulfed Mandara?

“Fire…” Her throat was raw, and it hurt to speak. Had she been screaming? She had felt the screams welling up inside her, but she believed she had kept them from coming out.

“No more fire, Sanchia,” Lion said gently. “You’re not in Mandara any longer.”

“Where?”

“The winery.” He smoothed the damp cloth on her temples. “You remember the winery?”

“Yes.” She looked around and could discern the shadowy outline of a huge wooden vat and oak casks in the dimness.

“Keep covered. It’s cool here.” He pulled the blanket over her and she suddenly became aware she was nude beneath it.

Lion was without clothes, too, she realized in bewilderment. Strange.

“Do you know who I am?” Lion asked.

“Lion.”

Relief lightened his expression. “And what happened at Mandara?”

How could she forget? How could anyone forget. “Plague.” She was suddenly jarred into full wakefulness. “Get away from me!” She sat upright and tried to slide farther from him. “Plague!”

“Be easy. I’ve been with you here for over a week.” Lion said gently. “If I’m fated to fall to the disease then I’m already infected.”

She looked at him, stricken. “A week?” She closed her eyes. “Dear God, why?”

“Why did you stay in Mandara to care for those I loved?”

“I was there.”

“And I am here. Open your eyes and look at me, Sanchia. Do I appear ill or racked with the disease?”

She opened her eyes. He looked strong and vigorous in spite of the lines of weariness and sorrow she saw in his face. “Sometimes it doesn’t happen right away.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. Was everyone stricken in Mandara?”

“It seemed as if they were.” She shook her head in confusion. “There were a few that were not ill but, as I said, sometimes it takes more time for one or the other. I don’t know if any lived or not.”

“I think it likely some survived, if the fire didn’t kill them.”

The fire. “Damari and his men set the fire. I watched him do it but I couldn’t seem to move. Then it came to me that if Damari lived, he could do this again. I couldn’t let him repeat such a monstrous act. So many died…Did I tell you about Piero?”

“Yes, you told me everything.” Lion’s eyes glittered brightly in the dimness of the room. “You raved and ranted until I thought I could not bear to hear any more. I believed you would very likely go mad.”

“Perhaps I did. I keep seeing—”

“No,” he said fiercely. “You will heal in mind and you will heal in body. I will not lose you, too. Do you hear me? You will heal!”

The passionate force of his voice almost convinced her he could hold both death and madness at bay. Poor Lion. He had lost so much. His family. His ships. His home.

She had thought she was incapable of feeling ever again, but to her surprise she felt a faint stirring within her. She looked away from him. “Why do we have no clothing?”

“I burned the clothes you were wearing and the ones I had on when I found you.”

When she looked at him inquiringly, he shrugged.

“It seemed a good idea at the time. I know nothing about plague.” He paused.

“I bathed us both in hot water every day and clothing would have just gotten in the way. It seemed a sensible precaution to take. When you swooned I told Lorenzo and the men not to come near us and brought you here to the winery. They’re encamped beyond the vineyard.

Lorenzo comes every day with fresh food and water and sets it outside the door.

” He nodded at a pile of blankets against the wall.

“I’ve boiled those blankets and dried them in the sun.

If you like, I suppose I could fashion you something to wear from one of them. ”

“Soon.” She felt no discomfort in either Lion’s nudity or her own. More than her clothing had been stripped from her in the past weeks. “How long are we to remain here?”

“Another week. Then, if neither of us falls ill, it will be reasonable to assume you did not carry the plague.”

“Reasonable.” She looked at him and found herself suddenly shaking. “There’s no reason or justice connected with that monster. It strikes the good, the innocent, the strong. Caterina—” She choked back a sob. “Forgive me. I know it must hurt to have me speak of her. She was your mother, and she—”

“Hush.” He was suddenly holding her in his arms, his fingers tangled in her hair as he rocked her back and forth in an agony of sympathy. “I know she was not kind to you. She meant well—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Sanchia whispered. “I loved her, too. We became so close those last days that when she died it was almost like losing Piero again. I loved her.”

“I wish I had said good-bye to them,” Lion said hoarsely. “I should have taken the time to say good-bye. If I had known—”

Sanchia felt something warm and wet on her temple.

If . The eternal word of regret. Sanchia’s arms slowly went around his shoulders to comfort as well as take comfort.

Caterina had said something about regrets that she must think about and then share with Lion and Lorenzo.

But not now. The pain was too fresh and new. Later there would be time enough.

Why, she was thinking about the future, she realized with astonishment. Perhaps she was beginning to believe that Lion could in some magical way keep the Medusa from taking them both.

But she must not let her hopes rise, for that was another way the Medusa tricked and deceived, giving a little only to take away all. Sanchia would not allow herself to hope until she was sure the monster had passed them by and would not look over its shoulder to smite them down.

Later that night, they sat before the small fire Lion had lit in the center of the winery. Lion had draped her in one of the blankets to protect her from the cold, and his arm around her formed another comforting barrier.

She did not look away from the fire as she said haltingly, “I do love you, you know.”

He stiffened and then his arm tightened around her. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I knew I loved you in that first moment when I thought you might also get the plague. I believe I didn’t realize it before because love was different from what I had thought it would be.

” She gazed pensively into the flames. “It’s not sweet and gentle like the emotion Dante felt for his Beatrice, is it? ”

“No.”

“It twists and turns and makes you ache with lust and then with tenderness, but still the love remains. Somehow I thought there would be…” She stopped, thinking about it. “A splendor.”

“Perhaps there is splendor for people who have an easier path to tread than we.”

“Perhaps.”

They were silent.

“I thought it important that you know I love you before we die,” she said. “I think we should—” “We aren’t going to die.”

“Oh. Well, if we do.” She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes.

“No, it’s not at all like Dante said. I didn’t even think of you very often once Caterina and I set to nurse the dying in Mandara.

Only now and then when there was time.” She paused.

“But when I did think of you, it was with love. I want you to know.”

“I do know.” Lion’s voice was thick as his arms clasped her closer still. “I know, Sanchia.”

“Good.” She opened her eyes to gaze wistfully once again into the heart of the fire. “Still, it would have been quite wonderful if there had been splendor…”

A week later Sanchia and Lion walked out of the half dusk of the winery into the full sunlight.

Lorenzo was waiting with the reins of two horses in one hand, a pile of clothing for Lion in the other, and a smile on his lips for Sanchia.

“Ah, how…interesting you look.” His gaze flicked to Sanchia’s hair before shifting to the coarse gray blanket Lion had slit in the middle and then slipped over her head to form a loose robe.

“That garment has a kind of barbaric charm when combined with her wild red hair, don’t you think, Lion?

Yes, she’d definitely be a fit mate for Attila the Hun. ”

She gazed at Lorenzo in wonder. He was behaving exactly as he had before. Everything in the world had changed since that time…except Lorenzo.