The Reckoning - 3 by Sharon Kay Penman Page A

Guido," Bran gibed, and Guy's brows rose mockingly.
"God save me, not a lecture on fidelity and the sacred bonds of wedlock!"
"I did not mean your absent wife, Guy. I meant your wife's verypresent father.
Or do you plan to invite him along?"
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Glancing across the Campo at the sturdy, redoubtable figure of his father-in-law, Guy conceded defeat with a wry grimace. "Your point is taken, Bran. Be off with you, then. Enjoy yourselves, wallow in lechery. But for
Christ's sake, try not to catch the pox!"
They laughed, beckoned to Pietro, and began to thread their way through the crowd toward their horses. Bran remembered his squires just in time. Noel and
Hugh were engrossed in a contest of zaro, a dice game similar to the English favorite, hazard. They came in reluctant response to his summons, but before he could speak, Noel asked plaintively, "Do you have need of us both, my lord?
Hugh is willing to go in my stead, if that meets with your approval?"
This was apparently a surprise to Hugh, who looked distinctly taken aback to hear he'd volunteered on Noel's behalf. Bran studied the two of them, a smile hovering at one corner of his mouth. "Actually, I was going to tell you both to stay. But I think your suggestion has some merit, lad. Can you find your way back by yourself, Noel? Just remember that the Tolomei palazzo is in the
Camellia quarter, close by the church of San Cristoforo."
Trapped, Hugh could only aim a muttered threat at Noel, sotto voce, before trailing dutifully after his lord, his unhappiness at leaving the Campo stoked by the echoes of Noel's jubilant laughter.
Their arrival at the brothel created a stir. Pietro de Tolomei and the brother of Guido di Monteforte were customers to be catered to, and the men immediately became the center of attention, surrounded by flirtatious, scantily clad women, flattered and fawned upon and plied with the finest red wines of Chianti. There was much bawdy joking and laughter as Bran and Pietro and their companions drank and swapped raunchy stories and conducted increasingly intimate inspections of the prostitutes brought forth for their scrutiny and selection.
Hugh sought to keep inconspicuously to the shadows, struggling with two conflicting emotions: disappointment that Bran should be betraying Juliana, embarrassed excitement at sight of so much alluring female flesh. Pietro di
Tolomei had not exaggerated; La Sirena was a bordello for men with discriminating tastes and the money to indulge them. The women were much younger and sleeker and cleaner than the usual inhabitants of bawdy-houses, and wherever Hugh looked, he saw curving bosoms, trim ankles, glimpses of thigh. After a time, he began to attract glances himself. It flustered him, and he retreated into a corner, to no avail; still they giggled and whispered among themselves. It was only when one of the women came over, ran her fingers through his hair, and murmured, "Che biondo-chiaro!" that he understood; they
Were intrigued by the uncommon flaxen color of his hair.
Noticing the boy's discomfort, Bran looked about for Pietro. But the
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latter was nowhere in sight. He hesitated, then decided he'd try to make do without a translator; after nearly three years in Italy, he'd picked up enough of the local dialects to make himself understood. La Sirena's bawd was an unusually elegant woman in her forties. She came at once when he beckoned, ready to promise all the perversions known to man, so determined was she to please this free-spending English lord, kinsman to il Rosso.
* 4 "What I want," Bran said in slow, but comprehensible Tuscan, "is a wench not too seasoned or jaded, one young and gentle in her ways, not brazen. You understand?"
The woman thought she did. "An innocent," she said knowingly. "You are indeed in luck, signore, for it happens that I have a rare prize. Thirteen she is, with skin like milk and her maidenhead intact. Of course the price"
But Bran was already shaking his head. "Too young. And I