Autumn, 1506
Bayonne, Gascony
Mira
Mira hurried to Sebastian’s studio one morning, cloak wrapped tightly around her to ward off the freezing fog that descended upon Bayonne in the night. Lifting her skirts to avoid a steaming heap of mule manure, she caught a glimpse of the hole worn in the toe of her right boot. That she, a woman with holes in her boots, a woman who had perfected the art of darning socks, a woman who ate boiled millet every day—and often little else—was a daughter of barons. She nearly laughed aloud at the thought.
Winter would strike any day now, Mira reminded herself. She had no business roaming the city with leaky boots. Making a mental note to visit the cobbler’s stall at the market next week, she hustled through the narrow lanes. Sebastian had said one of the merchants they met at the feast would be dropping by today. She did not want to miss a moment of his visit, for fear of losing the favor of a potential patron. Sebastian would not stay in Bayonne much longer. He had promised to remain until Arnaud returned, just as Xabi had—and her husband could appear any time.
Let it be today, she prayed.
When Mira went home that afternoon, Xabi was carving a block of alder into the shape of a bear.
“Ah, there’s your mama,” he said to the baby in relief when she appeared in the doorway.
Tristan looked up from his work of loudly clapping two wooden blocks together. He lunged forward at the sight of his mother in a confident crawl. A few months ago, when Mira put him on a fleece with a toy to keep him occupied, he could be counted on to stay there for the better part of a morning. Now, he explored each danger in the room with eager hands, pulling himself up at every opportunity. She and Xabi had taken to barricading the hearth with furniture, so all the chairs and the table were laid out in a semi-circle in front of the fire.
“Has he caused you trouble today?” She scooped up the baby and kissed his cheeks, luxuriating in the softness of his skin.
“Trouble?” Xabi chuckled. “No. He’s just busy. As babies are. Same energy as puppies, and about as much sense.”
“You have helped me more than you know, Xabi. I could not be at the studio if not for you. I met a patron today—”
Tristan grabbed her ears and yanked at them vigorously. Mira extricated his hands, passing him a downy white feather Sebastian had given her this afternoon. The baby waved the feather in the air and gaped at the undulations of the individual barbs.
“A patron?” Xabi continued shaping the wooden bear.
She nodded. “A merchant who will pay me to make his portrait.”
“Ah, that is good news.” He inclined his head at the bed. “A servant came by today to give you those.”
“What are they?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t open a gift for someone else.”
She put Tristan down on the fleece again and went to the bed to investigate. A pair of twine-wrapped parcels sat there. She opened them with care. One held a wooden box full of ceramic jars topped with cork stoppers. Mira removed the corks from each jar in succession and peered inside.
“Pigments,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Xabi in excitement. “Lapis lazuli, vermillion, malachite. These are costly.”
“Are they from Master Sebastian?” Xabi asked, putting down his tools. Tristan had crawled to his side and pulled himself up using Xabi’s knee for support.
“I do not know. He mentioned nothing of this to me today. Perhaps the second package contains a note.”
But the smaller item only contained a soft wool felt bag filled with candied fruit.
She regarded Xabi, mystified. “Who would send me pigments and sweets?”
“It must be Master Sebastian,” he asserted. “Who else knows you need pigments?”
“Plenty of people, now that I have been to the tribute feast, parading around for all to see, bragging of my talents as an artist.”
Xabi settled Tristan on his knee, patiently enduring a pair of little hands exploring the depths of his beard.
“Maybe it was one of those merchants you met,” he agreed. “Someone who intends to hire you.”
“I shall ask Sebastian before I use them,” Mira decided. “And I do not want Tristan getting into those sweets. He will make himself sick.”
She went to the cupboard by the window and placed the bag of candied fruit on the highest shelf.