Ceara could see the crucifix in her mind’s eye, the splendid gem of Rafael’s that had shone against the dark wool of his tunic. She would never forget it, for it was the finest gem she had ever seen in all her days.
“Matteo and I had been five years with the Compagnie Rouge when we approached Venice again.” He drew his dagger and spun it so that it caught the light. “But I should begin the tale earlier. I grew up with Matteo. His mother was sickly and we lived together in a small room in the poorest neighborhood of the city. They called her puttana and spat upon her, but his mother was no w***e. She had been a maid and a son of the household had forced himself upon her. When she became pregnant, she was cast out. She had taken me in and she raised us as well as she could. There was little
