Fruit of the Golden Vine Read online

  “I like her. And I feel sorry for her.”

  “I do too, but how is breaking her heart going to help?”

  Silvana sighed. Her chest ached, as if something had been abruptly taken from it, leaving her hollow. “You’re right, of course. But she’s charmingly honest, and she’s so sweetly inexperienced. She needs a woman like to me to teach her. Where else will she get the opportunity?”

  “How arrogant to think you’re the only opportunity she’ll ever have.” Rafael pressed Silvana’s hand. “Cheer up, Silvie. I don’t like this game any more than you do. Why don’t I entertain you by recalling some of the banter from our benighted end of the table?”

  “Please do.”

  “Sebastian wanted to know more about our family’s great wealth. I told him a story about our endless vaults and fields of wheat. He seemed to find it convincing.”

  Silvana grimaced. “Perhaps we should have tried to make the money by entering you in poker matches.”

  “At least we don’t have to lie about being nobility, though it’s beyond me why he cares so much about his daughter being married into some obscure foreign lineage.”

  “Nobility is the one thing he lacks. That, and good taste.”

  “Yes! Did you see the aventurine bird?” Rafael gave a low chuckle. “He spent a great deal of time extolling his eldest daughter’s virtues, as if Irena needed his help. Despite an allergic reaction to blasphemy, she has an endearingly ingenuous manner. I’m still not sure I wouldn’t rather court Adelina. She’s amusing.”

  “Even if you had been allowed to marry her, Rafael, I wouldn’t let you lay a finger upon her.”

  “You really are taken with her, aren’t you?”

  “What can I say? She stirs something sentimental in me.”

  “She’s a shade childish for your tastes, I’d have thought.”

  “She and her sisters are buried alive, confined to this house and the company of their tyrant mother. A touch of wistful immaturity is to be expected. She’s waiting to bloom, Rafael, and with a tender touch I could unfurl those petals…” Silvana shook her head. “Let’s not speak of it, and instead get on with our wretched business.”

  “Perhaps you can attract a woman in the tavern, get this off your mind.”

  “I don’t think throwing myself at some bewildered girl is the answer.”

  Silvana stepped away from the tree and stood gazing at the moon, which hung crescent and clouded above the town’s long silhouette. How senseless that people had so long persecuted that nocturnal guardian, accusing it of causing lunacy, abetting witchcraft, signaling demons and various other lunar superstitions. To her it was beautiful, a graceful lamp whose light was far subtler than the callous, masculine blaze of the sun. By the touch of moonlight, yearning fingers stole their way toward vulnerable hearts, and lovers’ dreams welled into unbearable tragedies.

  Silvana touched her cheek, where the silver tree marked her, and wondered at the tears that pressed behind her eyes. How far they were from home.

  She turned on her heel and glanced up. There was a blaze of light above the tree—a window, and within it the silhouette of a woman behind the curtains. Silvana knew, not only by the shape of the body and the wild outline of the hair but also by some deeper intuition, that it was Adelina. Could she have heard their conversation? Unlikely. Adelina’s shadow turned, and the curve of a breast came into sight. Silvana averted her eyes.

  Rafael pointed to the coaches, which sat waiting beside the main path. “Let’s hurry before the night escapes us.”

  “Escapes us?” Silvana sighed. “Rafael, I feel this night will never end.”

  Chapter Five

  The coach rattled to a stop, and Sebastian drew aside the curtain. “There she is. The greatest tavern in the world.”

  Beyond the window rose a three-story building built of pale wood. Its eaves were painted gold, and the placard above its door bore the image of a creeping length of gold vine against a red background. In a curling script, The Golden Vine had been painted over the design. Almost every window of the tavern seemed alight, and the combined glow suffused the street with warm, flickering light.

  “Are the tales true?” said Rafael as they descended from the coach to the cobblestones. “Of its checkered reputation, I mean.”

  “Ah, well.” Sebastian gave Silvana a sidelong look. “Let’s just say that I don’t allow my wife and daughters to visit. The Golden Vine is a refuge for men—and, indeed, for women—from the more stifling values of the world.” He nodded to a coach on the opposite side of the road. “It appears that Matheus has beaten us here, and so impatient were they that they’ve not even waited.”

  “You say women visit your tavern,” said Silvana. “It was my impression that all women in these parts are safely in bed by sundown.”

  “Only the respectable ones. We receive other lady foreigners like you, northerners and easterners. They are drawn to the Vine, as is anyone with a taste for freedom. While at home I obey, indeed enforce, our decorous division between male and female, in my tavern I obey a different standard.” They walked through the swath of tavern light to stand before the door, and Sebastian turned to face them, his fingers on the handle.

  “I have a saying, rather informal, and I certainly don’t let Delfina hear it.” Sebastian lowered his voice. “Beyond this threshold, my dear guests, God is blind.”

  A fog of tobacco smoke drifted through the tavern’s inner hallway, accompanied by the enveloping odors of alcohol and cooked meat. Silvana followed the men down a series of short steps and into a disorienting room in which flickering shadows waged war with lamplight and won. Tables were gathered together in some obscure arrangement, their hunched occupants barely visible in the gloom, and a varied hubbub filled the room, a mingling of laughter, whispering, and the enticing call of coin against coin. Human forms moved through the light and slipped into the dark, some treading with a suggestive sway, others lumbering drunk and yet more swaggering with mercenary bravado.

  Silvana squinted, trying without success to make out details through the tobacco mist. Forget about God being blind; she couldn’t see a damn thing either. “Is it true you have a brothel and a gambling den here?”

  “All true, dear Silvana—do you mind if we drop the titles? We don’t use them in here.”

  “I’d be relieved to, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian led them to a corner table. He sat beneath a painting of a woman reclining naked upon silks, and Rafael and Silvana took their places opposite. “I’ve no idea where Matheus and the others are,” said Sebastian as he waved to catch the attention of some unseen figure. “But they’ll turn up.”

  “I’m not entirely disappointed to be relieved of their company,” said Rafael. “We can use this opportunity to chat, the three of us, about the future.”

  “Ah, yes, the future—” Sebastian paused as a barmaid emerged from the shadows. “Wine, girl, for the three of us. The very best. And potatoes roasted in their skins.”

  “With pleasure, my master.” The woman vanished into the murk.

  “The joys of tavern ownership.” Sebastian placed his hands behind his head and reclined. “Yes, the future. You’ve had a day to admire my little Irena. What do you think, Rafael? A suitable lady for your manor?”

  “She seems born to aristocracy. I have no complaints and many praises.”

  Sebastian smiled, but no light reached his eyes. “Tell me. Did you like the art in my lobby?”

  Rafael gave a broad grin in return. “Of course! It is a sumptuous collection, and I should know, having traveled so extensively in the last two years.”

  As Rafael spoke, Silvana watched Sebastian’s expression. Something was wrong. The fat, jocular man who had beamed so foolishly behind his great beard had disappeared, and something more calculating, even predatory, had taken his place.

  She put her hand on Rafael’s arm, cutting short his ramblings. “Most of your artwork is fake,” she said. “Cheap quartz, gilt and tin.”


  Rafael sucked in a breath and gave Silvana an uncomprehending look.

  “Yes,” said Sebastian. “Very good. Your sister is a little sharper than you are, Rafael, I’m afraid.”

  “Sharper?” Rafael groaned. “I see. It was a test.”

  “Indeed. A trap for excessive flatterers.” Sebastian’s mustache lifted as he gave them something too mocking to be a smile. “Did you honestly take me for a simple fool, considering my work and reputation?”

  “Don’t fear. I took you for a complex fool, at the very least.”

  Sebastian laughed. “At least you respond well to pressure. That’s a good sign.” He steepled his fingers—always the mark of an unscrupulous man. “Your acting has amused me without end all day, so there are no hard feelings. Besides, Ira adores your flattery, and anything that makes my daughters happy makes me happy. Let me make it very clear—I love those three girls. They’re worth more to me than this tavern, my manor or my vineyard.”

  His eyes shifted between Rafael and Silvana, and his smile faded. “I consider my life, my accomplishments, to be as a vine. Beautiful, prosperous and far-reaching, but worth nothing without its fruit. My daughters are that fruit, and you won’t pluck them lightly. Ira is already taken with you, and you have a title and wealth. You’re off to a good start, but you’ve a way to go yet before I’ll entrust her to you.”

  Rafael’s face remained composed, but Silvana knew her brother. He was nervous, his anxiety evident in his posture and the hesitance in his eyes. “How many suitors have failed before me?” he said.

  “Seventeen. All had their merits, but my Ira will have only the best.” Sebastian’s stern look evaporated, and merriment glowed on his face. “But let’s be optimistic. If you comport yourself well, and Delfina and I decide that you’re the man you claim to be, we’ll allow you our eldest’s hand and fulfill our financial obligation. In return, you’ll treat Ira like a little queen and ensure that she enjoys the motherhood she’s always longed for.”

  Silvana cleared her throat. “Am I right, then, in thinking that the happiness of your daughters is above any other consideration?”

  “As far above as the heavens are to the earth.”

  “Yet it seems to me that Adelina is unhappy.”

  “It’s true. Ada wants for a life I can’t give her, and so I continue to raise her like a stubborn crop, one that wants to bend rather than rise straight.”

  “Forgive my persistence, but if her happiness is paramount, then why can’t you simply give her what she wants? Why require her to become married at twenty-five? Why not let her visit town more often?”

  “I can tell you admire her rebellious nature. So do I. Many times I’ve wished she’d been born my son. But she’s a woman of our custom, and she must learn to act like one. Once she does, once she recognizes the futility of disobedience, then I believe she’ll be happy.”

  The barmaid returned with a platter. She placed three goblets before them and laid a bowl in the center of the table. A pile of roasted potatoes smothered in salt and butter steamed within. “They’re hot, so use a fork,” said Sebastian. “I do believe this is the only tavern in ten days march where one can enjoy potatoes.”

  “The decadence never ends.” Rafael tasted his wine. “I’ve never tasted wine so good. And I mean that sincerely.”

  Sebastian drummed his fingers on the table. “As your host, I’d like to treat you both to some entertainment. Rafael, I can hardly treat you to my courtesans, as you’re seeking to wed my daughter. Instead, you can join me at the dice tables to see if you can expand your wealth. If you lose it instead, we’ll drink to your sorrows.”

  “Very well. I’m partial to a bit of dice.”

  “As for you, dear Silvana—may I be so bold as to provide you with an evening’s consort? There’s a beauty among my women who, I hear, takes great delight in female company.”

  Silvana tensed. They’d entirely underestimated this man, and he was reveling in demonstrating it to them. “What makes you think I’m so inclined?”

  “My lady, I’m no fool. Take up my offer, enjoy your release and stop tormenting my poor Ada. Her mother is oblivious to the effect you’re having on her, and I intend to keep it that way.” Sebastian stroked his beard. “For my part, I don’t blame Adelina. She’s only a girl. But you will cease provoking her heart, do you understand?”

  Silvana glanced at Rafael, who nodded. Damn it. “Yes, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  “Excellent. You’ll have a wonderful night. The Vine is a different world. I want you both to cherish it.” Sebastian broke a potato with the edge of his fork. “Look at that color! An incredible vegetable. Buttered with garlic, it becomes beyond words. Yet I can’t persuade Bruna to cook them. She thinks they’re poisonous.” He chuckled. “Servants and their superstitions.”

  Rafael drained the last of his wine and wiped his lips. “You have your own superstition, do you not?”

  “Ah, you’ve caught me. Yes, it is perhaps a touch eccentric of me.” Sebastian winked. “To be candid, there’s another reason I’ve clung to my daughters as long as I have—I’d miss them terribly. The way they run about the manor bickering with one another. Lise’s charming drawings. Ira’s prim chatter. Entering the study to find Ada curled up with a book, her dour little face fixed for a moment by a wondering smile. The innumerable jewels that adorn a proud father’s life.”

  “You weren’t disappointed to not have a son?”

  “Oh, naturally. A lad to help with my business, to watch him as he grew into a man…but my daughters may give me grandsons yet. And if you and Ira did become so blessed, I would hope that one might find his way into my household someday.”

  A handsome woman in middle-age sauntered to the tableside and rested a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. She spoke into his ear, and he nodded. “Dear guests, this is the one whom we merely call Velvet. She arranges consolation for lonely hearts.”

  “The way the old man describes it, I’m destined for sainthood,” said Velvet, a thin smile lifting her lips. “Bastian, may I be of service here? This handsome fellow would cause a stampede among my girls. That is, assuming he’s as gentle as he’s fetching, and not another of your drunken lout friends.”

  “Unfortunately for your girls, this handsome fellow may yet be my son-in-law. His sister, however, would like to spend the evening with Nerine.”

  “Is that so? Nerine will be delighted. My lady, would you care to come with me?”

  Silvana took a sip of her wine and set it aside. Rafael patted her arm as she rose. “Have a good evening, the both of you,” she said. “When you finally find those carousing friends of yours, Sebastian, I’d thank you to give them no well-wishes from me.”

  Sebastian laughed so hard that he rocked the table. “You see? Now the pretense of civility is down, we’re all far more entertaining people.”

  Velvet took Silvana’s hand and led her across the crowded tavern floor. Tobacco smoke plugged Silvana’s nostrils and scratched her throat, and her eyes watered from the biting ash in the atmosphere and the shifting half-light. Velvet seemed undeterred by the gloom, and she pushed aside men twice her size without hesitation or apology.

  The smoke thinned as they approached a flight of stairs. “I’ll lead the way, dear heart,” said Velvet and ascended clutching the skirt of her long red dress.

  As she neared the uppermost step, the sound of female conversation built in volume, mingled with the occasional clinking of a glass and the plucking of a harp. Velvet directed Silvana into a candlelit, cloyingly perfumed room filled with scarlet drapes and crimson couches. Several women occupied the room, draped over couches and kneeling on red cushions. Oil portraits on the walls depicted more women still, as if the living ones weren’t sufficient.

  Silvana remained in the doorway while Velvet marched into the room. Her earlier seductive wiggle had been abandoned somewhere halfway up the stairs. “Nerine. Wake up, you sloth.”

  A tan, lithe woman dress
ed in loose, translucent red silks stirred from the corner of a divan and opened her heavily shadowed green eyes. “I was merely meditating, mistress. A rehearsal for the day I abandon this life and become a nun.”

  The women around her giggled, and Velvet sniffed. “I can only imagine what you’d get up to in a convent, you perverse beast. As it so happens, I’ve brought you your favorite thing.”

  “Oh?” Nerine sat upright, and her lips, which were painted a shimmering purple, parted in a subtle smile. “You mean this treasure is for me?” She unfolded herself from the divan and approached Silvana, who looked up at the taller woman while trying not to let her interest show. “What a gorgeous design you have on your face. Was it painful?”

  “Not more than I could withstand.”

  Nerine cupped Silvana’s chin. “Whoever engraved it was brave. A woman this beautiful…it would be a sin to deface you.” Her free hand stroked Silvana’s neck. “May I ask your name, or shall I refer to you merely as an angel?”

  “Take her to a room, for God’s sake,” Velvet said. “Have the decency to be indecent behind closed doors.”

  “Come with me, angel.” Nerine placed an arm around Silvana’s waist and guided her down the hall and into a bedchamber. An enormous four-poster bed draped in shimmering crimson silk took up most of the room.

  Nerine closed the door and wandered the room, relighting extinguished lanterns, while Silvana sat on the end of the bed and admired Nerine’s slender legs. “My name is Silvana, by the way.”

  “A beautiful name.” Nerine stretched out on the bed, one hand supporting her head, and admired Silvana. “You ought to take off your boots, my beauty, so that you can sprawl upon these sheets.”

  Silvana untied her laces and slipped her feet loose. She settled among the cushions, and Nerine slid closer. “Much better,” she said, creeping her fingers into Silvana’s hair. “We’ll have some fun tonight, you and I.”

  “Do you really enjoy this? Or are you forced into it?”

  Nerine traced the line of Silvana’s jaw. “No woman chooses her profession in these parts, my love.”