“Consider it done, m’lord,” Georgii said, setting off with his brother right away.
“And us? How might we be of assistance?” I asked.
“By our side,” Marcello said, “the Betarrinis shall inspire our men and distract our enemies. The Fiorentini will be so wild with hope that they might capture you again, they won’t think to second-guess the men and women around them.”
“So we shall once again be bait to the bear?” Lia said, tensing, remembering.
Marcello was quick to shake his head. “Nothing like last time. That was far too dangerous. You shall be figureheads—escorted to the safety of the castle—not ever at the center of the battle.”
I nodded in agreement, the subservient lil’ wife-to-be. But inside I was thinking Yeah, right. We’ll see. Battle had a way of turning in unexpected directions. We’d be prepared, regardless.
For anything. For everything.
Giacinta was first among the servants to volunteer. “’Twould be my distinct honor, m’lady,” she said.
“Oh,” I protested. “Do you think it’s wise, Giacinta? Your daughter is so young—”
“And I want her to grow up to fight for what she believes is right,” Giacinta returned. “My mother can see to her, just as she does every other day.”
“But what if you don’t come home?” I pressed. “This is hardly like any other day and—”
“And I know it’s what I am to do, m’lady,” she interrupted gently.
“He’s ruthless,” Lia put in. “Paratore—he’ll be a terror if it’s discovered that you have infiltrated the castello for our goals.”
“Then he shall not find out.”
I studied her. She was far more determined than I thought possible. “Marcello will promise no rescue,” I said. “’Twill not matter how much I plead on your behalf—”
“Be at ease, m’lady,” she said resting a gentle hand on my arm and looking into my eyes. “I know the stakes are grave. I wish to do this. As you and your sister might, if they did not know you on sight.”
I bit my lip and nodded. She seemed sure.…I glanced toward Mom, wondering what she thought.
“But what am I to do?” Giacinta said. “I know not how to wield a sword as you do, or a bow as Lady Evangelia.”
Mom smiled.
“You wield a far greater weapon in the kitchen,” I said.
Mom offered her a glass bottle full of liquid. “Slip this into the cauldrons of porridge for the men,” she said. “It shall give them stomachaches that will not kill them but will certainly make them wish they could die.”
Giacinta’s eyes grew wide with understanding. “So they cannot fight.”
“Right. It needs to go into the morning porridge the day of Lord Greco’s execution.”
“You’ll have to pay close attention to gossip from the keep so that you are apprised of the goings-on,” I said. “We’ll get a couple of the other girls to assist you in it.”
“As soon as it’s done you must take your leave,” Lia said. “’Twill not take long for them to suspect you.”
Giacinta gave us a shy look. “Fear not, m’ladies. I shall be away like a shadow in the night.”
Lia and Mom and I shared a surprised look—who knew my hairdressing maid had such strength within her?—but we all smiled back at her. “I do believe you, Giacinta,” I said, “shall be our most valuable secret weapon of all.”
We found several women willing to try to free any prisoners in Lord Paratore’s dungeon—memories of Lia within it sent a shiver down my back—and still others who agreed to unlock doors and barricade the armory. Meanwhile the youngest and most eager knights and squires were brought together and briefed on their task, which was essentially to bring down any able-bodied knight inside Castello Paratore, as well as assist our cause, the moment they had the chance. “If you can take down one or two in preparation for battle, even,” Marcello said, pacing before the group of them, hands behind him, “there shall be one fewer dumping flaming oil down on our backs when we charge the castle gates.
“We have but two goals for this battle ahead of us,” Marcello continued. “One, to rescue Lord Greco, who has been an aid to us in more ways than one. And two, to capture Castello Paratore. Once it is in our hands, we shall dismantle it, stone by stone, so our enemies may never take up residence in it again.
“We shall press the Fiorentini back. Reestablish a proper boundary for Siena. Their utter and pronounced defeat, and Lord Greco’s defection, shall remove any hope they have of retaliation. Our valleys shall enjoy years of peace.” He was giving them the pep talk, psyching them up for what was ahead. But he was guessing, hoping. Not promising.
“If you are not willing to die for the cause, do not go. It is most dangerous,” he said gravely, looking each of them in the eye. “If caught, you cannot look to us to save you. You are entering the heart of war. But if you die, you shall be heralded as heroes.”
They cheered, as if they could not imagine any outcome other than victory. But I swallowed hard, thinking of how many ways I’d seen my own plans fail.
Marcello set them loose, in groups of three or on their own, heading toward Castello Paratore after Father Tomas prayed over them, long and hard. It was a bit overwhelming, really. It was one thing for knights to fight for you—they were paid, trained to do so—but servants? It was a level of loyalty I’d never seen before. They wanted this, still smarting from the beating they’d taken a year ago. When Castello Forelli had been taken, when they’d been turned out from their home.
I walked over to the wall and put a hand on the cold, rough-cut stone. Marcello wanted me here, in the center of the old structure. But did he not remember that no castle—or even city—had yet proven to be a safe haven? No, we could make wise choices, do our best moment by moment. But our lives would end the day God chose to step aside and allow it. And if either Lia or I died, there’d be no going back in time to save us.
“Visitors, m’lord,” announced a stable boy to Marcello. The boy gave the group of servants a curious look, but then left us.
I glanced at Marcello. The first of his brothers from afar? He offered his arm to me, and we paraded out to the courtyard, Lia and Luca and my parents right on our heels.
“Conte Lerici,” he called, recognizing the man.
The young man, not entirely handsome but reeking of power and money, swept off his horse, his camel-colored cape—with the herald of a hawk embroidered on it—swinging in dramatic fashion. Beyond him were twelve men, exquisitely attired in the same camel color, each with finely wrought bows and elaborately feathered arrows. He greeted Marcello halfway, clasping his arm and sharing a secretive grin. I’d certainly never met him in Siena—and he was the kind of man you’d remember.
“Conte Lerici,” Marcello said. “May I present my intended, Lady Gabriella Betarrini?”
Conte Lerici gave me a slow smile, and warmth entered his calculating eyes. “M’lady,” he said, bowing over my hand but not kissing it. “’Tis far more an honor than you realize.”
I gave him a puzzled look.
“During the Great Battle,” he explained, still holding my hand and straightening, “you led the bulk of Firenze’s men away from my castello, sparing it that night.”
“I confess, Conte Lerici,” I said with a regretful smile, glancing over his shoulder at the dozen men, “that I had no idea where I was leading those enemy forces. I only knew I was to lead them away from Marcello. And I was attempting to preserve my own life at the same time.”
“Ahh,” he said, joining me in my smile. “Such is my fortune.” His eyes roamed past me to Lia.
“Uh-uh,” Luca said playfully, taking Lerici’s arm next in greeting. “That one is my lady,” he said, grinning into the man’s eyes. They were about the same height.
“Seems as if I shouldn’t have tarried so long in the West,” Conte Lerici said. “’Twas here that I might have found my contessa.”
“After the battle we shall focus
on nothing but your quest,” Luca pledged.
The visitor laughed, a deep, genuine sound, and I liked him better for it. Based on the easy camaraderie among the men, I knew the count had to be one of the ten Marcello had sent for—those in the brotherhood forged so long ago.
Further introductions were made and the men were given food, the horses water and oats. “The finest archers between Roma and Venezia,” Marcello said in my ear, gleeful. “Had he brought a hundred men on horses instead, I would have still opted for those twelve.”
“We should put Lia with them,” I offered. “She has ideas on where to hide archers in preparation.”
“Excellent. Let’s get them in place soon, far before the battle begins.”
I laughed when Mom came toward us, red-faced and with a smudge of soot on her forehead. “How fares the bread baker?” I asked. With the servants so rapidly disappearing, we all had volunteered to do miscellaneous tasks not normally left to us. And Mom had been so keen to try her hand at baking bread again.
“Brutal,” she said, wiping her forehead of its sheen of sweat, despite the cool of the winter afternoon. “I would accept the hazards of baking bread at high altitude every time over the hazards of a wood-fired stove.”
I smiled. “How many loaves did you manage?”
“Twenty,” she said proudly, obviously pleased with herself. She eyed me over her shoulder. “I said it was difficult, not impossible.”
“Well done,” I said. “Can I be of help in the kitchen?”
“Not yet,” she said, “but come supper time, most likely.”
We were continuing on our way toward the Great Hall, where Marcello could grab some food and confer with Conte Lerici, when a call went up at the gates. Marcello and I both froze, fearing it might be the scouts, returning far too soon, warning us that Paratore was on the move. But through the gate walked two teenage boys who had been sent to Castello Paratore earlier.
Marcello smiled gently and clapped the first on the shoulder. “Rejected, were we?”
“Not enough experience,” the boy said.
“Nay, we needed a couple of young farmers in the mix, willing to give up their fields in order to work inside the castello,” Marcello said. He folded his arms. “How many are in?”
The boys eyed each other and then thought about it, naming one after the other they’d seen inside.
“Fifteen,” I said in wonder. “That’s remarkable.”
“We can utilize your skills here,” Marcello said in a tone of consolation.
The boys accepted his words and glumly went on to the well to pull up a pail of water. I watched them and gave a Marcello a wry look. “So becoming a stable boy has become a position of glory.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Fifteen,” he added, squeezing my hand in excitement. It was working—far better than we had hoped. We’d only hoped to get ten of our people inside. I thought of Giacinta and said a quick prayer for her.
The gates were just closing when they opened again for three wagons carrying long, heavy loads of timber. They looked to me like a massive set of Lincoln Logs. “Catapult,” Marcello said in a tone of utter delight. “Which could only mean—”
“Forelli!” called a small, wide man in nobleman’s clothes. Eight men walked in behind him. Another from the brotherhood. The two clasped arms and then embraced. The short man eyed me, but his attention was on Marcello. “Thought you could utilize this old relic,” he said, moving toward a wagon and pulling back a long blanket. Was it dismantled because they wished to hide the fact that Castello Forelli was now armed with such a device? Or was it simply to transport it?
“Old relic—I find that highly suspect,” Marcello said, running his hand along the finely carved notches. “Was it just completed?”
“A fortnight past,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d thought it was necessary to provide some sort of protection for our manor, but when I got your message, I knew it had a far greater destiny here.”
“I am beyond grateful,” Marcello said. I edged closer, and Marcello turned to me. “Sir Mantova,” he said, “my bride to be, Lady Gabriella Betarrini.”
“Your bride to be?” said the man with a wide grin. He kept slapping Marcello on the shoulder as if he was the luckiest man on the planet, all the while staring at me and hooting with pleasure over the news.
I laughed under my breath, a little embarrassed. I shifted uneasily, but Marcello took my hand in both of his.
“You’d better marry her this night,” Sir Mantova said. “She’s far safer as your wife than as your intended.”
I squirmed. So we’re back to that again? I wanted to see this through, and then see to my wedding. Thinking about both at the same time was enough to put me over the edge.
“Gabriella shall be safely ensconced in Castello Forelli,” Marcello said, kissing my hand.
Mantova cocked one brow and pursed his lips as if he was going to argue it, but Marcello turned him and pointed in the direction of the Great Hall. “Come. Eat your fill and see that your men do the same.”
Others arrived over the course of the afternoon and early evening. A young lord with thirty-six highly trained knights. Another with eighteen on horseback. Still another with twenty-four more fighting men.
It was sweltering in the kitchen, and feeding so many took hours. By the time supper was over, Lia and I wanted to dip our whole heads in the pails of water.
Marcello leaned against the doorjamb of the kitchen, arms crossed. Luca hovered behind him. “Look, Luca. Are these not the two prettiest kitchen maids you’ve ever seen in your life?”
I rolled my eyes and wiped my forehead of sweat. “The two hottest kitchen maids you’ve ever seen in your life,” I said.
“And she means that literally,” Lia said, edging past me with another pile of dirty wooden trenchers to wash. I looked at them and groaned, seriously wishing we could call back all the servants from Castello Paratore.
“Sit,” Marcello demanded. “Luca and I shall see to these.”
“We shall?” Luca asked.
“We shall,” he said firmly. “You two look as if you might faint dead away if you don’t find your escape now.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Lia said, moving out the door just as another servant arrived with more dishes and a second left carrying hot soup and a ladle.
“Go, Gabriella,” Marcello said, taking my shoulders and moving me toward the door. “You have done your fair share.”
“You could stay and accompany me,” Luca said to Lia. “I might get lonely in here.” He dipped his hands into the hot water.
“Nonsense,” she teased. “You have Lord Marcello.”
“You think he is a replacement for you?” Luca asked.
“He’s the best you’ll get this eve,” she returned.
He clasped his wet hands to his heart as if she’d wounded him. Laughing, we turned to go.
“Gabriella,” Marcello said, “would you kindly change and meet me in the library in an hour’s time?”
I blinked. Change? I glanced down at my dress and saw the stains and water marks all down the face of my brown gown. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
He smiled. “Excellent. I shall see you in an hour.”
I turned with Lia, and we walked to the back turret that led to my quarters. “Will you help me slip on another dress?” I asked. “Apparently my clothes work for the kitchen but not for company.”
“I’d say that again,” she said with a laugh.
We waited for a group of new knights to pass; they reminded me of a bunch of college boys out on the town, casting us flirty looks and wolfish whistles. The last of them turning full around to check us out—obviously thinking we were just a couple of kitchen maids—and Lia and I laughed.
“They are going to feel so bad when they figure out who we are,” she said under her breath.
We entered the turret door and climbed the stairs.
I smelled rose petals and beeswax before we hi
t the second level.
“Uh, Gabi?” Lia asked, staring down the hallway. Twenty fat candles had been lit along the stone walls, and red rose petals were strewn along the walkway. As we drew closer, I could see that my door was open. I frowned. What was this? Slowly I reached down and took out my dagger.
“Really?” Lia asked, laughing at me with her eyes. “What? Someone’s come to kill you with romance?”
But I didn’t share her laughter. She hadn’t been there, in Roma. Experienced the baths, the preparation. There were a lot of strangers in Castello Forelli this night. And hadn’t we, ourselves, succeeded in placing our own within our enemy’s gates? Was it such a leap to wonder about this?
Lia stepped forward, and I gripped her arm. She shook it off. “Man, Gabs, ease up,” she said. “This has Marcello written all over it.” She scooted away and moved toward the door.
“Lia,” I warned.
But she was through it without even a look back at me.
All was silent a moment. Then, “Uh, Gabs, you’d better get in here.”
I entered and saw more candles illuminating my room. On my bedroom door was a note:
My love—
I am yours. Shall you be mine?
Marcello
The den, in an hour. Could it be? Had he planned…in the midst of everything else…?
A periwinkle blue gown, exquisitely simple and elegant, shimmered on the bed. Beside it was a pretty, but more basic, green gown. For Lia, I supposed. A tray, with bread and fruit upon it. An hourglass, turned over, the sands patiently whirring through to the bottom. And the tub, with a shallow bath and rose petals floating on it. I reached down. It was barely warm, but the aroma…“Where’d he get roses, this time of year?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “1-800-FLOWERS?”
I smiled and took half a breath. “It looks like I’m getting married today after all.”
“After all,” she said, moving behind me and beginning to unbutton my soggy gown in silence. I slipped into the lukewarm waters, hurriedly seeing to my bath while Lia changed into her gown. When I stood up and had toweled off, I buttoned her up the back. After I’d put on a new set of delicately woven underclothes, set out for me in a neat pile, and she’d wrapped my torso in the soft, silk wrap, Lia eyed the remaining sand in the hourglass and combed out my hair. “Want me to try and braid it or something?” she asked.
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