Days continued, as the army of their enemies camped outside the city walls. Finally a messenger brought good news: Milan and the French king were coming to their aid.
When Philippe's father had occupied Milan, the Duke of Milan, Giuliano di Cardi, had not taken long to side with the French. He turned a feud into an alliance, and offered his army to king Henry, in return for keeping his governance over Milan, though under French control.
Henry and the Duke of Milan rode ahead, as their vast army marched on Florence. Through the corresponded gate, they entered the city, avoiding the army laying in siege.
Inside, they were warmly welcomed. Her uncle escorted them to the Palazzo Cadici. The atmosphere in the city was festive. Florence knew a huge army was coming to their aid. The enemy was vastly outnumbered. In a couple of days the threat would be dissolved, and they would be freed.
Ciara and Philippe were waiting in the courtyard. When the French king entered, he spread out his arms. First, he hugged Philippe. 'My boy,' he said. 'It is good to see you.'
'Father,' Philippe said. 'Thank you for coming to our aid.'
The duke of Milan stood behind them, wide-legged with his hands folded.
'We came as soon as we heard,' Henry replied to his son. Then, he turned to Ciara.
'My dear...' he said, with eyes full of pity.
They had met twice, when she had been in Nice with her father, when he was on diplomatic missions. He stepped towards her and closed her in a warm embrace. 'Thank god,' he said. 'Thank god that we came on time.' She almost felt her father in law shiver.
He had heard everything that had come to pass, of course. He didn't need the letters of Philippe to tell him about the army calling for the rape of the Cadici girl in Florence. It spread like fire over the country, travelling from mouth to mouth, by messenger, by dove.
Over the shoulder of her father in law, she saw Giuliano di Cardi, standing there as if hewn from stone. She felt the duke looking at her, cool bloodedly, almost with fascination. He was an intimidating man, in his late thirties, impressive in many ways. Tall and broad in the shoulders, he stood dignified, serious, , his strong facial features accented by his tied back hair, thick and wavy.
When her father in law let go of her, his eyes seemed wet. He looked her in the eye and squeezed her upper arms. 'You are safe now.'
Henry stepped back. He extended his arm towards the duke. 'The duke of me Milan,' he said. 'Giuliano di Cardi.'
The duke slowly stepped forward, bowing his head to the side in a small nod of polite greeting. 'Prince Philippe', he said. Then, turning his head to Ciara, after looking her intently in the eye: 'Madonna'.
'We are happy to receive you here in our palazzo,' Ciara said, with a clear voice of welcome. 'Our house is yours.' She made an inviting gesture to the rooms behind her. 'We are in your debt, and hope the friendship between Florence and Milan will make our cities stronger than ever.'
Her saviours had come. She was safe.
****
The next day she rummaged a bit in the house, thinking about the duke of Milan. They got along, at the diner table they had had good conversations. Yet she didn't know how to behave with him. He seemed distant. He felt reassuring, but inscrutable at the same time.
The men were in the Signoria. Practicing politics, no doubt. She walked into the second dining room, in the corner of the house.
