Waterfall

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  It was Marcello in disguise.

  He grinned at the knights and his brother, who rushed over to meet him.

  Luca patted my hand, grinning like a kid who was just given permission to open his first Christmas present, and went off to greet Marcello.

  Lord Forelli and Fortino entered the courtyard from the Great Hall.

  I turned on my heel and fled.

  I thought I was ready to see Marcello. I wasn’t.

  And Lord Forelli would totally freak if we didn’t stay as far apart as possible. Fortino had tried to tell him of what was to come, of a potential attack, of reinforcements … that it was all due to me, really, that they could even consider vanquishing Castello Paratore, once and for all, but it seemed to send the old man over the edge. He had become more shaky and distant, having trouble focusing and even forming words.

  I wondered if he had had another stroke. Because of me?

  I heard Marcello call out my name, but I continued my escape. I would see him later. When I got myself together. When he’d had a chance to say hello to Luca and Fortino. When Lord Forelli wasn’t staring at me with those old, watery eyes like I was about to bring disaster on them all.

  Or maybe I wouldn’t have to. Maybe I’d do my part, Marcello’d do his, and Lia and I could just get to the tomb and get the heck out of Dodge.

  “M’lady,” he called, sounding exasperated, still coming after me.

  I paused and slowly turned.

  We were alone in the corridor.

  And I so wanted to race into his arms. Looking at him again, after a few days apart, made me weak in the knees. Seriously. I felt like an idiot. Maybe it was because I needed a man’s embrace right then. Anyone’s hug. Comfort. Encouragement.

  He ran a hand through his curly hair, and it flopped right back into place, in a deep wave across one eye that I thought was especially hot. His hand fidgeted with the hilt of his sword as he moved toward me, unsure of himself-had I ever seen him unsure of himself?

  “All is well, m’lord?” I asked, cursing myself for not outlasting him in the silence game.

  “All is well,” he said eagerly, taking my words as welcome, still approaching. “A false rumor of an attack to the south has been circulated. Sienese soldiers moved out this morning. Paratore will think it’s Providence, God’s sign that this is the night to attack. He’ll think Siena’s soldiers-including my own-are distracted, not waiting but a half hour’s ride to come to our aid.”

  I really wasn’t concentrating on what he was saying. All I could think about was him, here, so close. In his enthusiasm and excitement, he had moved but a foot from me. I continued to retreat until my back bumped up against the end wall. I looked back in surprise and then to my door, then to him. He stared down at me, as if recognizing, for the first time, how he affected me.

  “Marcello, Paratore will have spies out, in all directions. If he catches wind that there are reinforcements…” Evangelia!

  “Nay,” he said soothingly, face alight. “Paratore will only hear what I wish him to hear.”

  “If he intercepts your messenger…” I swallowed hard. “Marcello, he has Lia. Down in his dungeon. He threatened to do unspeakable things to her.”

  The muscles in his jaw tensed, and all trace of anticipated glory disappeared in his concern over my sister.

  I couldn’t look into his warm eyes any longer. They were covering me, pulling me in. “They threatened to torture her-” My voice cracked then, and I looked down. I felt the heat of a deep blush climb my neck.

  Marcello reached out and took my face in the curve of his warm hand. He waited until I looked back up to him. “So the warrior is not made of stone.”

  Stone? Stone? He thought me made of stone?

  He put his left hand on the other side of my face and leaned down to look into my eyes. “You are courageous, Gabriella. And clever. And strong. Remember that, in the thick of battle. You can utilize all three. And I will see to it that neither Lord Paratore nor Vannucci ever has the opportunity to harm either you or your sister.”

  They were brave words. But only words.

  And yet I wanted to believe them then. I had to believe them.

  But we were much too…close.

  “All right,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Hands off me, Bucko. Remember, your heart belongs to someone else. And my heart is apparently… stone.

  I was starting to squirm out of his magnetic pull when he moved an arm around me and tugged me closer. “Gabriella,” he said lowly, tracing my temple and cheek with the back of his right hand. He stilled, staring at me. So tender. So warm. I melted. “There is something I must know,” he said, “something I’ve wondered about for days.”

  He leaned down then and kissed me, softly at first, then deeper, searching. I knew I should stop him, push him away, but I didn’t have the strength. All I wanted was more of him, more of his warmth, his comfort. When he stepped back he looked as dazed as I felt. He rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb, still staring at me intently, as if reliving our kiss. And then his eyes sharpened again with a glimmer of victory. He nodded at me. “I was correct.”

  I put a hand to my forehead and shook my head, frowning more as his smile grew. “No, Marcello. This, this can’t happen.”

  “Yes, yes, it can,” he said, grinning, pacing in his excitement. He stopped and put both hands on my face, and, God help me, I wanted him to kiss me again. I knew I was a total weak-willed loser. But I couldn’t help it. He was just so totally amazing. And completely into me. I’d never had a man into me like that. I usually only got my share of the dorks and weirdoes. Those guys loved me with a passion.

  “Marcello-“

  “Nay, we will speak of it on the morrow. When we conquer Castello Paratore and free your sister. You’ll see, all will be well.”

  “But what of Lady Rossi?”

  “Lady Rossi has a hundred prospects. I am appealing, convenient, expected. We are friends, but there is no passion, no love between us. She will understand.”

  When he said no passion, no love between us, he looked at me like he totally saw the opposite end of the spectrum between us. Love? This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now. He couldn’t break up with Lady Rossi. For me. Just when I was about to disappear. He would be crushed when I went home.

  “So Lady Rossi will recover. But what of the alliance? Castello Forelli is vulnerable out here, on the border. You need Siena behind you, Marcello. Remember?” I shook my head. This was crazy. He’d gotten totally off track because of…me?

  He shook his head too, slowly. “We shall find another way to strengthen our ties to Siena. Capturing Castello Paratore will do much to soothe the Nine’s ruffled feathers.”

  I blew out my cheeks. He’d really thought this through. And he was making this so much harder… “Marcello, there is a great deal to come. Let us see if we both live, and then we can speak of whether it is wise-“

  “Wise?” he asked, taking a coil of my hair in his hand and running his fingers down it. Could it not stay in place? For once? “Nay, this is most definitely unwise,” he said, leaning in until my back was against the wall again. He hovered, waiting, until I gave in, lifting my chin to offer him my lips. He kissed me again, not touching me with his hands, just tilting his head one way and then the other. He tasted of cinnamon and wood smoke. My arms, like they had a mind of their own, came up and wrapped around him, inviting him closer. But then he was pulling away, a teasing smile on his face. “Nay, this is not wise at all. But sometimes the heart tells us to venture where the mind fears to tread.” He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “I shall see you in an hour. I must go speak to my brother and the men. Unless you care to join me.”

  I shuddered, thinking of Lord Forelli. “Nay,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t believe your father can tolerate seeing us together. I’ll stay here.”

  He nodded, waiting for me to look at him fully in the eye. “My father will come to see this as I do, Gab
riella.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said miserably. “This is all happening so fast….”

  He smiled and kissed me again, then was off, striding down the hall. “It is happening at just the right time. All of it,” he said, lifting out his arms in exuberance. “You shall see, m’lady. You shall see!”

  He lifted the latch and pushed the door outward, letting in a brief burst of sunshine before it banged shut behind him, leaving me in the relative darkness.

  “Great,” I muttered to myself “Just great, Gabi.” I leaned against the wall, trying to get my head around what had just happened.

  How had everything been in order a half hour before?

  Because right now, my grand scheme seemed to be in shambles.

  I was at my bedroom door, trying to focus enough to open it and lie down for a few minutes, when the courtyard door banged open and Marcello appeared at the end of the hall. “Gabriella! Gabriella, come quickly!”

  I frowned and rushed down the hall.

  “It’s Fortino,” he said grimly. “He’s collapsed.”

  We entered the courtyard together. Three Forelli knights were carrying Fortino toward us. He was in the midst of a full-scale asthma attack, each breath a horrific seal-like bark. “Take him to his sitting room,” I said.

  I looked around for servants, then instructed, “Boiling water, buckets of it. Fresh, lightweight cloth, never used. Lemon, mint, caraway, fistfuls of it. As fast as you can!”

  I glanced at Lord Forelli, who definitely looked like he was going to have a heart attack now. I reached out to Marcello. “Your fatherget him to his quarters and encourage him to rest, will you? Tell him we’ll send him word.”

  Marcello followed my gaze, nodded once, and was off to do my bidding. I raced to follow the men. As soon as they had Fortino laid out on the wooden settee, I asked them to take off his shirt. The muscles between his ribs contracted with each breath. The poor man was working as hard as he could just to inhale one more time.

  I took his right hand with my left, and leaned down so he could see my face. “We will aid you, Fortino. Hold on. Just concentrate on each breath. Do not give in to the fear. Slow it down. Slow it down.” I took a breath with him, staring into his eyes, willing him to match my pace. “You can do this. One breath at a time. In… and out…”

  I felt more than saw Marcello move into the room. I took comfort in his presence. But I continued to concentrate on Fortino. “Do not give up, Fortino. You have come so far. You simply overtaxed yourself. It will be all right, I promise. One breath at a time. There you go.”

  I turned to see the three knights, staring at me with wide eyes, and others in the doorway. “Find out where that water is!” I cried. “We need the boiling water and cloth now!”

  The three closest scurried to do as I bid, breaking up the crowd in the hallway. But then the servants were there with the water.

  “Tell me what I can do,” Marcello said lowly, at Fortino’s head, trying not to interrupt our process. There was fear in his eyes, the first I’d ever seen in him.

  “Boiling water, two buckets on each side of him. Use the cloth to make a tent above us. Try and seal us in, as best you can. And have them fetch more boiling water. We need steam. Constant steam.”

  Marcello rose and barked orders.

  A maid arrived with the herbs I’d asked for.

  “Quick as you can-everyone tear all that into piles.”

  Fortino was mouthing words, trying to tell me something. I shook my head furiously. “No. It can wait. Do not try to speak right now. Do you hear me? You breathe, and that’s it. In… and out.” I was about as tender as a drill sergeant. But he was seriously freaking me out. People still died of asthma attacks in the twentyfirst century. How much harder was it to keep them alive in the fourteenth?

  In two minutes, Marcello had the cloth spread above us and water inside. It didn’t take long for sweat to drip down my scalp and back, but I wasn’t leaving Fortino. Not that I could. The man gripped my hand, so hard it scared me all the more. As weak as he was, if he held me like that, he was afraid, deathly-literally-afraid.

  Marcello was there, on the other side of our makeshift tent. “The herbs are torn, Gabriella. Now what?”

  “Mix them with olive oil, into a thick paste. Quickly.” I watched in horror as Fortino’s eyes began to roll back. “Fortino!”

  They slowly rolled back to focus on me.

  “Stay with me, Fortino. Stay with me.”

  His eyes remained locked on mine.

  Marcello came under the tent, staring at my flushed, sweaty face, then at his brother’s, which was almost blue from lack of oxygen. New buckets of water were slid under the tent, the cooling water removed.

  “Go over there,” I said to Marcello, nodding to the other side.

  I looked back at Fortino. “Marcello is here. I need to pack your chest. He shall hold your hand.”

  Marcello gently took his older brother’s hand from mine, moving it to his side. There was such care in his movements, such love, that I thought I might burst into tears. Fortino’s eyes shifted to his brother, as hungry for encouragement from him as he was from me.

  None of us wanted to be alone when we died. A chill ran down my back at the thought, even though it was hotter than Hades in there.

  “Fortino,” I said, slapping a bunch of the herbal slop-heavy with mint, caraway and lemon-over his chest. “You breathe, man. Breathe!” What was I doing? I was guessing at an old recipe of my mother’s, hoping I remembered it right. Hadn’t Lia had a major allergy attack? And hadn’t she put such things on her?

  I studied him as I placed handful after handful of the stuff on his skin.

  I might finish him off if he’s allergic to any of this stuff

  But I was desperate. There was nothing left for me to do. I couldn’t just sit there and watch him die.

  “We must pray,” Marcello said, glancing from his brother to me.

  I stared back at him. Pray?

  If praying would save the man, I was up for it. God had never seemed to pay much attention to my pleas, but maybe he’d listen to Marcello.

  The man closed his eyes and began to speak in Latin. My mind raced, trying to keep up with his words. I knew just enough Latin-on my parents’ insistence-to totally massacre any attempt at speaking it. But I could understand it well enough.

  “Mighty God in heaven,” he began, a little awkwardly, “reach down and touch this man. Heal him. Save him. Grant him breath. God on high, You are all-powerful. We beg that You spare Fortino now. Amen.”

  “Amen,” I whispered. I glanced at him, but he was looking only at his brother. It wasn’t his words that struck me. It was that he appeared to believe in them.

  His face relaxed, as did Fortino’s. Marcello reached up to wipe away the sweat from his brother’s face with a cloth, and smiled his encouragement.

  “Gabriella, you look as if you are about to faint,” Marcello said, his eyes suddenly on me. “Take your ease a moment outside the tent and get some cooler air. I will stay with him.”

  I nodded and put the back of my hand up to wipe my forehead and upper lip of sweat. I was feeling a little dizzy. I moved from under the edge of the cloth and looked about the room, to a sea of waiting faces. “He still struggles,” I said, sinking to a chair. “Please, fetch more boiling water. We must keep it coming, constantly.” Three set off to do as I asked. Another brought me a ladle of cold water, and I gulped it down. Then when I felt more myself I returned under the edge of the tent.

  “God has heard our prayers. He’s breathing a bit easier,” Marcello said.

  I studied the side of Fortino’s ribs, where herbs and oil streamed down, and watched the muscles. Just a tiny bit less desperate and lurching. He still sounded like a sick seal, gasping for every bit of air he could take in, but any improvement was a small victory.

  I rose and looked into Fortino’s eyes. He didn’t look quite so close to giving up, but he was still working so ha
rd… and he was again trying to form words. He looked at Marcello this time.

  Marcello rose and placed his ear next to his brother’s mouth, closing his eyes as if to concentrate on deciphering what Fortino was trying to say.

  “Marcello,” I complained in a whisper, “he shouldn’t try to speak.”

  Marcello held up his hand to shush me. After a moment, he went back to kneeling beside his brother. After several long minutes, he said something back and lifted his face.

  “What’d he say?” I asked.

  “He said to carry on with the attack. To leave him with a sword in hand, in case they breach this corridor.”

  The knights in the room, clearly hearing Marcello’s words, all cheered.

  I put a hand to my forehead. How could I leave Fortino struggling like this?

  “There is no choice,” Marcello said, reading the question in my eyes. “The plan is already in motion. Your own Evangelia is counting on us to rescue her in the wee hours of morning.”

  I dragged miserable eyes to his brother and back to Marcello again.

  We might save Lia-how I hoped we would save her-but if the Paratores breached this corridor, we would most assuredly lose Fortino.

  Marcello made his “return” the next morning with golden flag flapping in the wind beside the flag bearer’s horse and all of his trusted men riding behind him. Hours later, I still paced back and forth. We’d gone through the plan with all the knights, then again with the servants, ten times. It had to appear natural. Nothing could smell of a trap. They had to confine the battle within the courtyard, so that the Paratore knights remained engaged there, until the reinforcements arrived and could capture and kill them all-and so that they would not give chase to those who were attempting to breach the Castello Paratore wall and save my sister.

  Marcello had thought of a few things to give our side an edge. He put fifteen knights into common clothing, and they took the quarters at the front of the castle, while the servants sheltered in the rear quarters, which were more defensible. Five brave servants agreed to make a run from two separate corridors, and into another, making it appear as if the castle had truly been surprised and all servants were where they usually were, in the hall across the courtyard from mine. They practiced it, like actors on a Hollywood movie set, timing it, men on horseback charging about, so it was all perfectly choreographed. The idea was that at first, Paratore men would think they’d breached the castle doors just as they had planned, surprising all inside.