The Angels then feared for my life. They said that men often released their unspent fury upon women. They said my brothers were these kind of men. They told me to run and hide. Red will find you, the Angels promised.

I ran to the overlook and to the bench. I sat there until the sun was directly above me. I heard footsteps, and I heard my name, spoken by a voice as flat as the sea that day. I turned and saw Kanella’s face. There was no arched brow of surprise, no outraged fire in her eyes, and certainly no tears. How did she know that I would be here? I asked the Angels.

Kanella has an eye for detail, the Angels replied. The chips of middling blue paint on the back of your dress told her where to find you months ago, they said.

Kanella placed a jug of water and a warm loaf of bread beside me on the bench and said that I should eat in my condition. She dropped a small cloth bag onto my lap and said to save these dried sultanas for my breakfast. “You will be sleeping here tonight,” she said. “Your father will not allow me to pack a valise for you. You will need new clothes soon anyway. Your surgeon will come for you tomorrow. He cannot remain at the Fortezza after the din that your brothers caused this morning. They are now telling anyone who will listen in Kapsali town that they stabbed him and that he is fighting for his life in some mountain cave. Those two could not stab a spitted lamb. They cannot hurt a man, but they will kill you, Rosa.”

The Angels whispered in my ear, and I repeated their accusation. “You tried to kill me first.”

“Ungrateful girl,” Kanella replied. She knew exactly what the Angels meant. “You think a convent would not be living? Having no man but God to tell you what to do is not a life? You will see.”

You will see.

That is how the old curse the young, Elesa.

Before Kanella walked away, she untied her shawl, the color of ripened wheat with a fringe of carnation pink, and left it on the back of the bench. “It belonged to your mother,” she said.

I drank the water that Kanella had brought me. I ate the bread that she had baked for my family that morning. When the sun went down, I draped the shawl over my shoulders, and I slept soundly under the light of the moon and the stars. When I awoke with the sunrise, I could not remember what my father looked like, how old my brothers were, their given names, where the family house was located. My prayers were answered yet again.

I sat up when I heard footsteps and “Cara Rosa” spoken twice.

Charles had not been stabbed. He had no injuries whatsoever. He looked refreshed, as if he had slept in his own bed last night, as if he had begun the day with a full breakfast and a warming cup of tea. Charles slipped English words into his speech whenever he became agitated, and that morning many of his words were in this language. “Fortuitously, the arrangement for my departure had been in the works for months now,” he began. I asked him what “fortuitously” meant.