A Golden Web by Barbara Quick

that face shone brighter.
    One night, having planted too wet a kiss, mixed with her own tears, Alessandra wiped the painting dry with the edge of her sleeve. To her horror, she saw her mother’s face disappear.
    Gasping at the realization of what she’d done and what she’d lost, she looked at the circle of gold where her mother’s face had been. And then she brought the icon closer to the candle.
    The heaviness of the thing, she’d always assumed, was in the iron frame that housed the painting. With her own heartbeat nearly audible, she rubbed more of the precious paint away—until she saw that the picture had been painted on a solid piece of gold.
     
    The day for her removal to the convent came much more quickly than Alessandra had imagined possible, as if the very nature of time itself had suddenly changed. So many of the things she’d planned to do a last time, or even for the first time—things she hoped to say and things she’d hoped for the chance to unsay—all of it burst like a soap bubble now, and there was nothing left but the cold, gray dawn of her departure.
    A cart was hired to carry them all to the doors of the convent. Alessandra brought her birds with her (although she would far rather have brought some of her father’s books—an impossibility, given their great value and the dangers of the road). She was made to wear the heavy, blue silk dress, covered over for the journey by a mouse-brown cloak.
    While weaving the matching blue ribbons into her hair, which tumbled down to the middle of her back now, Ursula assured Alessandra that the wealthier she looked on her arrival, the better the nuns would treat her.
    Emilia was to stay with her and serve her: Alessandra’s father had insisted on it, and her stepmother—who disliked Emilia just as she disliked every reminder of themistress who preceded her—exulted to thus be ridding herself of two annoyances at the same time. Alessandra, who had sewn the heavy gold wafer into the hem of her chemise, was still mulling over the question of how she was going to deal with Emilia now that she had, by default, become part of her plan.
    Nicco was nowhere to be found when they were ready to leave. His horse was gone from the stable, and Alessandra knew it was because he didn’t want to cry in front of them. She clutched the knife in its scabbard where she kept it hidden beneath her gown, and knew that her brother loved her.
    Ursula was the only one who spoke at all during the journey, prattling on so gaily that even Carlo avoided meeting her eyes, looking out at the landscape instead, gray with rain. Everything smelled of damp leaves and woodsmoke. Alessandra was savoring the wide-open spaces and fresh air, despite the drizzle. She, Pierina, and Dodo huddled together under a blanket. Pierina wept softly. Dodo, who never liked waking early, lay sprawled across both of them, fast asleep.
    Giorgio had said good-bye at the house. Heembraced Alessandra, and sang in his sweet, clear voice, “Godspeed!”
    The journey didn’t last long enough. As Carlo helped Alessandra down from the cart, he looked into her eyes and said her name. And then he whispered to her, “I hope you’ll see, a year from now, the justice of the course I’ve chosen for you.”
    She bit down hard on her lip as she hugged him. “I know you’ve chosen out of love for me.” And then, her voice trembling, she added, “Thank you, Papa, for all the love you’ve shown me—and for anticipating my every need!”
    She tried to see if he knew what she meant. The heavy wafer of gold, heated through by her own skin, felt warm against her.
    Carlo simply nodded. “Yes, I’ve tried—and only time will reveal if I’ve chosen well.”
    Ursula looked on, smiling while father and daughter whispered together. She felt generous in this final hour, knowing that the next morning would dawn without the irksome presence of either Alessandra or Emilia. Families were discouraged from visiting their