If I do not look after her, she has no one. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. ” “Ready for the performance next Friday?” Martin asked. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. She heard their feet and muffled voices.
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