Torrent

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “I am meant for one man, Rodolfo,” I whispered. “And that is Marcello.”

  The men were looking our way, then sharing raised eyebrows and smiles, thinking it was yet another romantic moment. It was good they thought that. It would help us keep up appearances a while longer.

  “I mistreated you while you were in my care last,” he said with a sigh, as if that explained my allegiance.

  “Nay. I know that you did what you had to do, to preserve your role. Had you not, had they figured it out…Rodolfo, I wouldn’t be standing here today. I owe you my life, several times over.”

  He was still for a moment, considering my words, and then he nodded, kicking his toe into the loose dirt as if he was trying to kick free the stone in the ground. “Since he has not yet arrived, I assume Marcello is a good bit behind us.”

  “As do I,” I admitted.

  “Do you have it within you?” he asked, leaning closer to my ear. “To continue this farce, even straight to an altar? We shall need every hour we can give him. And our companions…Gabriella, they have one goal.”

  I looked at him until he met my eyes. “As far as an altar. But no vows,” I whispered fiercely. “I shall never exchange vows with anyone other than Marcello.” It felt good to take a stand for what I knew was right, true. But there was a breath of tearing, too. A moment of thinking, I can’t believe I’m turning this guy down. I didn’t like it. It shamed me, acknowledging it. But there it was.

  He blinked his long lashes, then nodded. “I shall see you to freedom before that. Now we will straighten and you shall allow me to embrace you. As if you are falling for my charms. As many other women in Firenze have.”

  I didn’t doubt it. He was reminding me that he was Mr. Hot-o-rama when I didn’t need the reminder. But I’d probably hurt his pride. So I did as he’d instructed.

  He straightened, gave me a lingering smile, and touched my chin with the knuckle of his forefinger, looking into my eyes. After a breath he gently placed his hands on either side of my face, then closed his eyes and kissed my forehead. Then he pulled me into a warm embrace, so warm, that I felt the chill of the morning anew when he released me.

  When he offered his arm, I took it, allowing him to lead me to my mare.

  He was a good man. A fine man.

  Almost as good as Marcello. But he was not Marcello.

  Not him, I reminded myself sternly.

  Chapter Eleven

  We rode into Roma the following day, and I had a hard time getting my bearings. More of the ancient Roman wall was still standing, and of course, most of the buildings weren’t anything like what survived into modern times. Many of the hills were covered by rubble, and grass and trees were making serious headway in reclaiming the earth as its own. Most of the commerce and people seemed to be centered near the Forum and Coliseum.

  “You have been to Roma before?” Rodolfo asked me, studying my face.

  “It’s been some time,” I returned. Like, almost seven hundred years.

  “She is not as she once was,” he said. “Since the papacy was moved, really.”

  The pope, not in Rome? Vaguely, I remembered that the popes had resided in France for a time. We’d visited the sprawling Palais des Papes in Avignon when I was about ten. Was it during these years that the Church had considered France safer than Italy? At the time we visited Avignon, I had a hard time getting a grip on the fact that they feared for their lives. Having been here, now, I got it.

  Lord Barbato neared us on his high-stepping mount. “We shall go directly to Palazzo Vivaro,” he said. “All is prepared.”

  Rodolfo nodded, and the nobleman moved on ahead of us.

  I didn’t know what I was thinking. Had I really thought we’d settle in, spend a few days, hit a couple of parties, do some sightseeing, and then get to this marriage business? But all at once, I realized that they intended for this marriage to happen right away.

  Tonight.

  I looked to Rodolfo. “Might we convince them to wait until the morrow?” I whispered. The knight in front of me glanced back; he’d obviously heard.

  “Come now, beloved,” Rodolfo pretended to chide me gently, having noted the knight’s attention too. “There is no need to hesitate. You shall find I am the most gentle of husbands.”

  The knight in front of me chuckled. Okay, whatever. Pretend that is the reason; that I’m afraid of my wedding night. “It is only that I wished to have my parents with me when I exchanged my vows,” I said.

  “Unfortunately that is impossible,” Rodolfo said sadly. “When all is complete, mayhap your parents can come and visit us in Firenze. They are welcome anytime, Gabriella. Your family shall be my family.”

  I looked into his eyes. He seemed to be reassuring me. Telling me he was that trustworthy—like family. Or was he suggesting something else?

  I was so confused. So. Confused.

  “Very well, m’lord,” I said quietly. The other knight in front of us turned back to look at me. He was probably wondering where my fight had gone. I hardly sounded like a She-Wolf.

  We wound through several small neighborhoods, past herds of goats and sheep, until I finally saw something I recognized—the old Roman Forum. Although a few of the structures had been placed upright again, no reparations had been made. Only the massive, triumphal arches on either end—and a few remnants of the old temples—remained vertical. Brush and trees and long, dry grasses grew among the white stone columns and capitals. A barber had set up shop under one of the arches, now half as tall as I knew it truly was, so deep was the dirt and brush. I gawked at it as we rode past. And I got a pang in my chest, remembering Dad’s “I Left My Heart in Roma Antica” shirt. He’d bought it, just over there.… Dad, Mom, Lia, where are you?

  “You enjoy the old relics?” Rodolfo asked, squinting at me as if he were trying to figure out my fascination.

  I shifted, startled by his interruption in my reverie. “I do.”

  “Mayhap we can walk down here on the morrow,” he said. “We shall spend our first night together there.” He nodded upward, and I forced myself to not look so surprised at his words—our first night together—in case the nosy knights were again paying too close attention.

  He’s playing the part, I told myself. Only playing a part.

  But the light in his dark eyes unnerved me. I could trust him, right? He wasn’t just playing me? Herding me into a corner I could not escape? Thinking he could convince me that I had feelings for him once I was, you know, his wife?

  My eyes drifted to where he pointed, above the old marketplace, in the direction of the Coliseum, not yet visible. A sprawling, white stone palace had been erected, with an elaborate portico bordered by massive urns on the western edge, facing the Forum, just to one side of Trajan’s Market. We’d have a view of all of it, and from the other side of the palazzo, I wagered we’d glimpse the Coliseum, too. Long, dark green flags drifted in the wind—the nobleman’s colors?

  “Lord Vivaro has tapped into what remains of the old Roman aqueduct,” Rodolfo said, nodding toward the fountain on one end of the portico. “Some have told me that he even has rebuilt something that echoes of the ancient bathhouses, with a caldarium and frigidarium.”

  I shivered at the thought of a cold bath on a winter’s day. And then I shivered a second time at the thought of being trapped up there in the palazzo. Now that we were in the city, I’d look for an opportunity to escape, but I needed a distraction, something that would give me a ten- or twenty-minute lead. Anything less than that, and I’d likely be recaptured and hauled back. I scoured my mind for memories of places in Roma I could count on to be here now. The remains of the old Roman palaces on the Palatine, and the Pantheon…The Etruscan ruins were south—in the opposite direction of where I wished to go—and yet there was little to the north.

  Outside the city were the old catacombs. I might be able to make it there and hide through the night. I thought they might be somewhat in the right direction, if I wanted to get back to Sien
a. But I shuddered at the thought of spending the night among the old limestone tombs with countless skeletons still on their shallow beds. The thought of it had once made me giggle in excitement, exploring with Lia a few years ago; now it made me Seriously Freak Out.

  Okay, so the catacombs were a last resort. Hopefully I could make my way to the palazzo stables, swipe a fresh mount, and put some serious miles between me and the Bad Boys—with luck, maybe even before they realized I was gone.

  I still had the dagger strapped to my calf. If all this came down and I had to give it up, I’d be super frustrated. But so far, it would have been much worse to pull it out. It was like having an old Colt revolver in a sea of enemies armed with Uzis. It’d only work in just the right place at just the right time.

  But if I got all the way to the crowded palazzo, would it just become five times more difficult to escape? Or might I find an opening as I was being prepared for my evening nuptials with one or two servants? I remembered well the day in Rodolfo’s palazzo, when a score of maids were sent to bathe, scrub, and decorate me like a refurbished Christmas tree. If that many were with me this time…

  My panic mounted as we entered a side street and began climbing the hill. I knew Lord Vivaro’s palazzo wasn’t far, given the increased amount of traffic. It was obvious that our host was vastly wealthy, and a great deal of commerce was rolling through. Trains of mules passed us, some with empty packs, others with new loads. I kept gazing at side streets, wondering if this was my last opportunity or that was…but I’d have to cut my reins, so thoroughly were they tied to Rodolfo’s, and then what was I to do? Ride sidesaddle without reins? Impossible.

  “Do not look so frightened,” Rodolfo said, so quietly I almost missed it. I turned to him. Was I that obvious? “All will be well, m’lady,” he said, reaching for my hand.

  I placed my sweaty hand in his, and he squeezed it, looking into my eyes. “At this time on the morrow, you will feel much different,” he said.

  I’d told him I could make it as far as the altar, but not the vows. He was remembering that, right?

  After one more bend in the road, the grand Palazzo Vivaro came into full view. Across the street a massive complex, a block wide, had been set up. Probably Vivaro’s own little city of industry. Cloth in many different colors covered stalls, but not in the manner of the simple merchants of Siena. These were taller, wider stalls and offered far more exotic goods. Rodolfo followed my gaze. “Fabric from the Orient, tapestries from Denmark, spices from Africa, gold, silver—whatever you might wish for, Lord Vivaro can obtain it for you in Roma.”

  I nodded, impressed. Lord Vivaro came out of the merchant complex, catching sight of us. He was of medium build, with a massive beard, a playful turban, and merchant’s robe. I knew it was him from the way everyone treated him with deference, how he was swarmed and had to cut away, ignoring his posse, to reach us. “He enjoys playing the role of the exotic merchant,” Rodolfo said with a smile, leaning toward me. “But he was born here in Roma.”

  Our host threw his arms out so broadly, with such a wide smile, that I had no choice but to grant him a small smile in return. “And so! You’ve brought us our Vestal Virgin, the greatest prize of all,” he said—to Lord Greco? Lord Barbato? It was impossible to tell as he covered me in a look of pure admiration.

  “A She-Wolf of Siena was the best we could do,” Lord Barbato said flatly.

  “Ah, m’lady,” Lord Vivaro said, “you are as fine as the stories have told. You honor me by being here.” He took my hand without asking, bent, and kissed my knuckles, staring at me the whole time. When he straightened, he kept my hand in his. “If only the other half of the matched set had been delivered with her…”

  Lia. I pulled my hand from his, but he only smiled up at me, unperturbed.

  The noblemen of Firenze had dismounted, and Rodolfo politely waited until Lord Vivaro stepped aside, so he could assist me down to the ground. When my feet reached the dirt road, Lord Vivaro smiled and clasped his hands together before him. “A most handsome couple,” he said.

  “Enough, Vivaro,” Lord Barbato said in agitation. “We assume the chapel has been prepared? The guests await us?”

  I looked at him in surprise. I shifted in panic but then felt the low, steady pressure of Rodolfo’s hand on my lower hip, holding me in place.

  “Nay!” cried Vivaro with a playful frown. “Nay, nay, nay. This is to be my finest hour, as host to the union between Lord Greco and Lady Betarrini!” He threw a hand into the air. “If you wished them married so quickly, you could’ve had your own priest perform the ceremony.” He flicked a hand toward Father Tomas in the rear of our entourage.

  Barbato leaned toward him and said, “You know we need the proper people here to witness it.”

  “And they shall be here, in but three hours’ time,” Vivaro said with a cat-like smile. “Imagine it…just as the sun sets across the Forum, these two shall become one.” He clasped his hands together to his chest, as girly as a middle-school cheerleader with her first crush.

  “Three hours?” groused Lord Greco, as if he were as agitated as Barbato at the wait.

  “Come now, m’lord,” said Vivaro, taking my arm and ushering us up the palazzo’s front steps, while speaking past my shoulders to Rodolfo. “I had no idea at what hour you would arrive. Is this not perfect? Just enough time to bathe, don new clothing—my gift, with which I hope you will be most pleased, my darling,” he said to me, before returning his gaze to Rodolfo,“—and meet your bride upon my portico. It shall be most ideal. They shall talk of it for ages.”

  “And if the Sienese come?” Lord Barbato said tiredly, pinching his nose. “Even now, they are likely on their way.”

  “That is not my responsibility,” Vivaro said, with a curved hand to his chest. “I am to see to the fanfare, you are to see to the rest. Is that not what we agreed?”

  Lord Barbato faced him, looking down on him. “We agreed that the fifteen lords mentioned, along with their wives, would be here, waiting, when we arrived.”

  Vivaro giggled at him. “One does not keep such a room full of power waiting for hours. Even you know such things, Lord Barbato.” His smile faded. “These are my allies, my comrades. I will not trifle with their time.”

  Barbato lifted his chin, studying his host for a long moment. “Very well,” he said.

  “Very well!” cried our host with glee. “Very well!” he repeated almost to himself, and giggled.

  Nutcase, I decided. Not all there.

  We reached the top of the stairs and entered under a portico, thirty feet tall, with columns that had surely been salvaged from the Forum herself. “She’s magnificent, is she not?” asked Vivaro, seeing me admiring them. “It’s taken me over ten years, but I think you’ll appreciate my building efforts.” He snapped his fingers, and five women, dressed in Roman togas, came my way.

  Playing the role, I remembered Rodolfo saying. I had a sinking feeling the whole night was going to be like some freakish costume party. “When in Rome,” I muttered, stepping forward as the servants gestured for me to follow them.

  I had three hours. The sooner I could be away from the men, the more opportunities I might find to escape. If I could escape right away, could I gain a three-hour lead? And if Lord Barbato was correct, if the Sienese had figured out we’d moved south rather than north, then could I meet them somewhere along the road?

  For the first time in the last three days, I felt a twinge of hope.

  I turned and glanced over my shoulder at Rodolfo, and he gave me a small smile, studying me with those big model-worthy eyes as if he already knew what I planned. Following my gaze, the servant girls giggled. “He is quite handsome, m’lady,” said one.

  “Yes,” I returned, remembering the maids in Rodolfo’s palace, the first time I put on a wedding gown in his presence. I fought to pay attention to the way we were going, mapping out the palazzo in my head, knowing I’d need to remember if I was to escape, but my mind kept going back to that
afternoon, when he’d been in the massive, ornately decorated room with me. When he’d circled me, admiring me from all sides. Then, how he confessed on the way here that he’d tried to forget me, but failed. That there was something more…

  I shook my head. Concentrate, Gabi. Let it go. You have to stop this silly little sidetrack. Marcello holds your heart. Marcello. Rodolfo knows it.

  I looked back over my shoulder, trying to remember what I’d just seen—or rather what I’d just not seen—so I’d recognize the hall, and I spotted him. A massive, black-skinned guard with a turban, bare chest, and white balloon pants, as well as a massive, curving sword at his side. Yet another character in Vivaro’s play, I thought. A slave—a eunuch?—out of Arabia. But the dude was all business, glaring back at me with black eyes as if I were a bug he’d like to flick off his sleeve.

  So. I’d have to ditch the girls. And the dude. I could do it. I think. I had three hours. Probably two hours, forty-five minutes, now.

  We were finally there. With a shy grin, the head girl reached for the door handle and pushed it, holding it open for me.

  I couldn’t hide my awe. Before me was a sprawling room, a throwback to ancient Roman times. Fountains trickled. Palms waved in massive pots. Piles of fruit sat on massive platters. Twenty more women, all in togas and barefooted, sat about on pillows and elegant lounges, eating, laughing. And it was warm, the first room that felt warm, wall to wall, since I’d left my own time. We’d seen a pretty big plume of wood smoke emerging from the palace when we arrived; but here, in this room, not one fire was lit.

  The girls caught sight of me and began to rise and move toward me, smiling in greeting. They were all lovely, some of the prettiest girls I’d seen in one place. It was like landing in an NFL cheerleader camp. Or rather, the Roman Centurion Cheerleader Camp. In the center of each of the other three walls of the room, three more black guards were stationed, dressed as the one behind me had been. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Numero Uno had been joined by a second. I sighed.