The dress Kat dropped over her was soft twilled . . . silk.
From the doorway came a horrified squeak. “Katerina! You can’t dress some slave-girl in your best taffeta!” The little bright-beady-eyed old woman with the tray of food and wine looked utterly horrified.
Kat clicked her tongue. “Madelena, just leave me to my business. And she’s not a slave.” To Maria: “It’s not a new dress. But we’ve got to get you back to . . . to Caesare and they won’t be looking for someone dressed in clothes like these. Put the tray down, Madelena, and get me some hot water. Do. Please.”
Madelena set the tray down, pinching her lips with disapproval. Then she took a deep breath and, with the attitude of a stern taskmistress, shook a bony finger at Kat. “You can’t do this, Milady Katerina! I’m going to go and talk to the master, no matter what old Giuseppe says.”
Kat hugged the old lady. “Please, Madelena. He’s asleep by now. And this is the honor of the Casa at stake here. Papa would have told me to do this.”
The old lady sighed. “I wish he would come home.” But she turned and went out.
Kat shook her head as she lifted the hem of the newly loaned dress above Maria’s raw and bleeding knees. “Sorry. My old nurse, and my father’s too. She won’t accept that he’s never going to get back, or that I’m not five years old any more. If I set this tray here on the bed, do you think you could eat a little? And maybe drink a glass of wine? You’re as pale as a sheet. I’ll try to clean up these knees. I’m not much of a doctor, I’m afraid. And it is not much in the way of food either.”
Maria looked at the tray. Bread, the crumb finer and whiter than any she’d ever eaten. Slices of prosecco, salume, taleggio cheese, some early melon, something wrapped in pastry, olives, a tiny sweet cake bursting with raisins and almond slivers, dusted with sugar. Huh. Kat’s ideas of “not much”! Case Vecchie ideas.
Maria sighed. This was Caesare’s background. This was the world he belonged in. It was a world that left her feeling like a fish on a mountaintop. “Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.
Kat shrugged. “Honor. I promised I’d help to find you.”
Both the old man and old woman bustled in, arguing. “Hush!” snapped Kat. “You’ll wake the house. And I do not want Alessandra here!”
That shut them both up. Madelena had brought a crock of warm water, cloths, soap. Giuseppe had in hand a small fine-toothed saw and a huge pair of pliers. He set to work on the chain. “You’ll need a blacksmith to break the locks, or cut through the shackles. But if we cut the chain you can walk properly,” he said. “Or run if you have to. You a local girl, missy?”
Maria nodded. “Born and bred.” By his walk he was a seaman. All caulkers did a stint with the Republic’s galleys and, as often as not, other vessels. “My family are caulkers.”
She was right in her guess. That brought a look of frosty approval to the old man’s face. “So what are you doing in slave clothes and slave chains?”
Maria shrugged. “The Dandelos don’t care much where they get their slaves.”
Giuseppe nodded, his face growing heavy with anger. “This time you were right, signorina. We must talk to milord about this. He can take it up with the Signori di Notte or even the Doge. This ought to be stopped!”
Kat sighed. “Do some more sawing, Giuseppe. I can just hear Grandpapa saying: ‘Well, Your Grace, my granddaughter was just out for a little midnight row, on her own, when she found this runaway slave who happened to be a citizen of the Republic. Now, that’s not allowed, Your Grace. Yes, my seventeen-year-old granddaughter is often out alone at midnight. For starters, the Dandelos and their allies would laugh us out of the council. How could we prove Maria was a captive of theirs? For seconds, we don’t need any attention. We have too much business of our own we don’t need examined too closely.”