Free A Golden Web by Barbara Quick

incurred. His land, his books, and his business would all be liable.
    She cried, alone in her room, thinking of Nicco reduced to working as a laborer on someone else’s land, and Pierina—beautiful Pierina—dowerless and relegated to a lifetime of servitude. And her papa?
    This thought made her weep hardest of all. Her papa, who believed in her obedience and goodness as no father had ever believed in his daughter before, with such trust and faith and love—her papa would die of shame and sorrow if Alessandra’s deception were made known.
    She would have to cover her tracks so thoroughly that not one single suspicion would be raised, either in her home or at the convent. But such an enterprise—she was worldly enough to know—would require not only determination and careful planning but also a great amount of gold.
    Alessandra put down the mirror, dried her tears, andcrossed herself. She closed her eyes and imagined her future, and could picture no other path but this one stretching out before her—however difficult and solitary. However far it led from the sort of future her loving father dearly wanted for her.
    She prayed to the mother of God—and to her own mother—to understand and forgive her for what she was planning to do.
     
    The call of a nightjar woke Alessandra from a troubled dream. All she could recollect of it was that she was lost in a strange and ominous land. The birdsong was part of the dream, but she couldn’t remember how, except to recall that she felt afraid, as if something—or someone—were pursuing her.
    She lay there in her bed, looking out at the shimmering glimpse of Heaven that showed through her window. And then she heard the chirrup again, recognizing it this time—now that she was more completely awake—as Nicco’s call to her to come out into the night.
    Before Ursula had begun keeping such close watch on her, Alessandra and Nicco—and, later, Pierina—hadoccasionally climbed up and down the ancient wisteria vine that clung to the stones of the house and perfumed Alessandra’s room with its purple blossoms all through the spring and summer. Ursula found out about these nighttime jaunts and caused the vine to be cut so that it reached too far below Alessandra’s window to allow her escape.
    On full-moon nights, Alessandra would lie in her bed and remember the delicious feeling of being abroad in the silvery, dangerous world of the nighttime.
    It was a grinning new moon now, and even the starlight was shining only faintly through the wisps of clouds that raced across the sky—not the sort of night Nicco usually chose for their rambles. Not a safe night for risking whatever evil spirits lurked in the shadows—a night that would be the darling of robbers, assassins, and demons.
    Alessandra wrapped the blanket around her shoulders but shivered anyway—half from fear, half from cold. The chirrup might have been a nightjar, after all. She lit the candle from the banked embers of her fire, pulled on her clothes, and looked outside.
    There were scant leaves left on the wisteria now, anda few of these—she saw, with a start, when she saw his face in the window—were stuck in Nicco’s hair.
    “Are you going deaf?”
    “I was asleep!” She held her hand out to him. He grasped it and pulled himself up far enough to crawl through the window.
    “I have something for you, Zan—and I’m going to ask for something in return.” He stared at her, his blue eyes snapping in the firelight. “Talk!”
    Alessandra looked with determination out the window and into the darkness. She longed to tell Nicco everything—and to ask his advice. But she only shook her head. “I leave for the cloister in three months’ time. What would you have me say?”
    He stood close to her, waiting until she met his eyes. “To the others—to our stepmother, lie all you want, although you put your soul in mortal peril. But do not lie to me, Alessandra!”
    “Then do not ask me questions!”
    “I know