DELUGE

by Lisa T. Bergren

  We neared Castello Greco, her towering gates soon before us. With her entry perched in a shallow valley, her gates were taller than any other I’d ever seen, and then I was pushing aside the memory of Gabi above, dangling over the edge as Cosmo Paratore—once my captor, then hers—gripped her by the arm on the night the castle fell to the Sienese. I pushed aside the vision of Dad, injured after a sword blade pierced his upper chest—a wound that had to heal the old-fashioned way, through normal time, and had done so reasonably well. But we’d been so scared. So. Scared. Thinking him dead, after all we’d done to save him.

  So…yeah. This castle carried some baggage with her. But when our knights announced us, as the newish gates opened with a tremendous groan and creak, and we saw Lady Alessandra Greco awaiting us, practically dancing on her toes with pleasure at the sight of us, I smiled. We were remaking our memories of this place. Filled with good people. New days and nights and celebrations. And this would be one of them, I determined.

  I saw that she held a small girl by the hand, a child no more than about three. She was precious, all dark skin and long, curly hair, in a tiny, perfect dress.

  “Who is this?” I asked, leaning in to kiss Alessandra on either cheek.

  “This is Chiara,” Alessandra said. “She has come to live with us.”

  Her eyes told us there was more to the story, but it would have to wait—she didn’t want to talk about it in front of the child. The girl whined, and Alessandra lifted her up and onto one hip, cradling her close, murmuring to her. “I’m so glad you’ve come to visit,” Ali said, smiling at each of us.

  “We missed you and thought you might be lonely,” Gabi said, “without Rodolfo at home. We didn’t know little Chiara was keeping you company! Would you mind if we spent the day with you, and possibly the night?”

  “Mind?” she returned. “It will be grand.” She turned to the steward at her right. “Agostino, we shall set a special supper this night for the three of us, in the small hall.”

  Her words held power, but her tone was questioning. Clearly, she was still getting used to being lady of the house. I held back a laugh. That was never something that Gabs struggled with. But it would’ve been for me, and my heart went out to her. Maybe Gabi could give her some pointers…

  As soon as I’d thought it, Gabi was on it. “You must drop the question from your tone,” she said quietly, slipping her arm through Alessandra’s as we walked. I followed them. “The lady of the house never questions herself, only directs.”

  “Which is challenging, m’lady,” Alessandra returned, “when a lady questions every word she utters.”

  Gabi lifted her head, as if in surprise. “Alessandra,” she said, “the thing that struck me most when we met you was your singular purpose on the hunt. I think it’s what struck your husband, too. In that same way, you must address your household. The key aspect being that it’s your household. Rodolfo likely cares primarily for the knights and your security in terms of household duties—the walls, essentially. Everything within those walls is your realm, yes?”

  Alessandra mulled over her words, looking somewhat troubled. “Would that your words be true. My husband cares for the walls, the territory, the border. But I daresay he cares for everything and everyone inside, too. There seems to be naught that escapes him. He is uncommonly aware, uncommonly keen to things that are by degrees…off.”

  We were silent, all lost in this thought. For it was true. Rodolfo Greco was uncommonly attuned to nuance. Detail. It was why the Fiorentini sent him after us, years before. He was like a hunter, or a detective. Gathering clues. Guessing at logical paths. Deducing. The Sherlock Holmes of the Middle Ages.

  I was glad he was in Siena. For a time, we girls could put off thoughts of the future and simply concentrate on the present. And to me…well, it was the closest thing to a slumber party that I’d had in a very, very long time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  GABRIELLA

  Chiara was a delightful child. She coyly played hide-and-seek with me as we ate, ducking under the table and then peeking out. We soon learned she was an orphan, and Rodolfo had simply brought her home to Ali a week past when he couldn’t find another to take her in. Her mother had died in childbirth and her father, in his grief, had drunk himself to death. When Rodolfo rode through the village, he’d found Chiara, dirty, crying and hungry, in the road. Few of the villagers wanted another mouth to feed…they were only interested in boys, who might better help them till their fields or harvest their grapes. And as the nearest lord, they figured Chiara was Greco’s responsibility.

  When Alessandra finally got the child to sleep, she returned to us.

  “So,” I said, “you went from newlywed to new mother. How are you faring with that?”

  “Ahh,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head with a grin, “I could not be happier. After losing my mother, my brothers, and then my father…” Her voice caught, but she swallowed hard and continued, a tight smile on her lips. “To me, this is as if God has given me a new beginning. Hope,” she added. “I hope we fill this castello with babies in time. I want lots of little Grecos about!”

  As if in response, my baby rolled within my womb. Ali’s delight over insta-motherhood made me suddenly eager to have my own child in my arms. “I’m so glad for you,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her arm.

  “’Tis wonderful for all three of you,” Lia added.

  “What did Rodolfo think?” I asked. “Of adopting the child?”

  “He seems a little in love with the girl,” Alessandra said. “He smiles all the time. And he is glad that we could help Chiara when she had no kin to turn to. You should see the girl with him. She follows him around like a little puppy!”

  We stayed up late. Alessandra was deeply in love with her husband, still as ga-ga at the mention of him as Lia was with Luca. We shared stories and giggled, and Lia gave her an archery lesson by torchlight, keeping her enthralled with her account from Venice all the while. Ali was a quick-study and had obviously been practicing with her bow, for she was as good as I was now. She watched Lia’s every move, asking her questions about handholds and tension on the string.

  I didn’t even try to enter in, finding it impossible to properly hold the bow with my belly getting in the way. Lia attempted to cajole me into trying it by holding it at an angle, but I refused. Besides, my back ached and it was hard to stand for any length of time. I was happy to simply sit and watch them, laughing with them.

  Soon after, we headed to bed, pausing at the top of the stairs.

  “I’m so glad you’re settling in here,” I said to Alessandra. “Close to us. I’m so glad you are our friend.”

  “As am I,” she said, shyly placing a hand on her flat belly, making me a little envious.

  Thoughts of the plague taking Rodolfo, Alessandra, or little Chiara crowded my mind, but I quickly shoved them away, forcing a smile.

  “We best get to bed, Gabi,” Lia prodded. “You need rest.” We continued down the hallway to our guest rooms.

  We said our buona seras, and then went to our chambers.

  I waved at the knights, who were just trading off shifts, shut the door, slid the bolt closed. Then I flopped down on the bed and promptly went to sleep without bothering to get undressed.

  I awoke far later than I might have at home. Back at Castello Forelli, a maid arrived shortly after sun-up, every morning. But here, no one had knocked, and I hadn’t heard a thing outside. Feeling creeped-out—as if I might have somehow been left alone in the castle—I moved to the door, listened a moment and then unbolted it and peeked out.

  Falito startled, as if dozing on his feet, and straightened. “My lady?” he asked, concerned.

  “Oh, good morning,” I returned. “It was so quiet I thought mayhap you’d left me.”

  “No, m’lady,” he said sternly, as if I’d just offended him by suggesting such a thing.

  “Good, good,” I murmured. “Is Lady Evangelia still asleep
?”

  “Nay, m’lady. She accompanied Lady Greco and little Chiara on a walk.”

  I let out a sigh and shut the door. Blinking, I undressed down to my shift, threw my rumpled gown to the bed, went over to a small table, poured water from a pitcher into a basin, and quickly washed my face and under my arms. I dried off and pulled out another gown, a deep burgundy that was so well made it managed to make me feel decent in it, even with my protruding belly. This one had no gathers at the front, falling from an empire waist straight down, and I hoped it made me look a bit less like Her Whaleness. Around adorable little Alessandra, I always felt Amazonian…and the pregnancy just made me feel worse.

  I combed out my hair but knew I would never be able to wrestle it into more than a semblance of a knot. But it’s just us girls this morning, I decided. No worries.

  Slipping my feet into my tapestry flats, I was out the door, telling Falito my plans from over my shoulder, even as he hurried to catch up with me. The other knight was gone, presumably watching over Lia. Ever since the attempt on our lives in Venice, the knights were crazy vigilant. Irritatingly vigilant. Away from home, I understood it. Back at the castello, and even here, I thought it ridiculous, but Marcello had been adamant.

  “Do you know where Evangelia and Alessandra went?” I asked, still walking.

  “They went for a walk in the western woods,” Falito said. “But m’lady, I’d expect them back at any moment. Mayhap if you simply wait here…”

  “Gabriella,” called a man’s voice.

  I froze. Then continued, electing to pretend I hadn’t heard him.

  Because I knew it was Rodolfo.

  “Gabriella!” he called again, this time clearly in the hall behind me.

  I looked to Falito, who stared at me in confusion, wondering why it took Lord Greco twice to stop me. Wringing my hands, I glanced back at Rodolfo. “You’ve returned,” I said, pretending gladness.

  I was stuck. With him.

  Without my sister.

  Without his wife.

  “Come,” he said, gesturing to his den. “I have need of you.”

  I swallowed hard, resting my hand against my rounded belly, tightening with another Braxton-Hicks, this one especially fierce. Did he mean…No. No, that wasn’t it.

  Slowly, I walked back to him and entered, Falito right behind me.

  “’Tis all right, Falito,” Rodolfo said. “The lady is safe with me.”

  “Begging your pardon, m’lord, but I am to stay with my lady at all times, even with friends.”

  Rodolfo looked to me, waiting.

  With a sigh, I dismissed him. “Please. Simply wait outside the door. If I have need of you, I shall call.”

  Grim-faced, Falito paused. “My lady—”

  “If I have need of you, I shall call. We are in the house of friends.”

  Falito reluctantly turned on his heel and slipped out, slowly closing the door behind him, watching until the very last inch was sealed.

  Rodolfo leaned against the table that served as his desk, folding his arms. “Where were you going in such haste?”

  “To catch up with your wife and my sister,” I said. “I overslept, and they went off to walk with little Chiara. I am so glad, by the way, that you took her in. It was most kind.”

  A small smile danced on his full lips, and his eyes softened. “It’s been a blessing to us as much as her. I think…I think Alessandra needed a child, to settle her. To give her focus here.” He gestured about. “’Tis much to take in when one has been raised in a small cottage.”

  “But she is faring well,” I said. “Adapting?”

  “She is,” he said with a nod. “I have every confidence that she has all she needs to run this household. But now I am aware that I must keep both her and Chiara safe.” He crossed his arms and pinched his chin as he studied me. “’Tis the reason that I called you in here, Gabriella. You’ve avoided me for some time. Since that day in the field of tombs. When—”

  When he’d pressed us for the truth. When he realized we were from the future. “Yes, yes,” I said, glancing back at the den door, praying Falito wasn’t listening in.

  Rodolfo frowned and then stepped closer to me, maybe so that he could speak in a quieter tone. Still, it made me uncomfortable. I resisted the urge to back away from him. Wished with everything in me that Lia and Alessandra would get back. Tried to find the courage to look him in the eye and failed.

  “Gabriella,” he whispered, tilting up my chin to force me to look at him. He dropped his hand once I did. I stared into his dark eyes. “Tell me what I must know,” he said. “To keep my family safe. What is to come? What do you so fear?”

  “I cannot,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It shall change things.”

  His dark eyes searched mine. “You are my friend. You are Alessandra’s friend. There is something ahead of us that makes you afraid for us, yes?”

  “I cannot tell you,” I said, fighting tears. “Do not ask it of me, Rodolfo.”

  “Any fool might discern that Castello Forelli prepares for siege. The additional knights. The storehouse with food and medicinals. The new latrine and well. When, when, is this war upon us? Is it the Fiorentini who shall overtake us?”

  My eyes widened. This was why he pressed. He feared that our enemies would take the upper hand in battle. And if they caught the Grecos…their end would be as grim as it would be for us. Perhaps even worse. Because they were thought of as both enemy and traitor.

  I took a deep breath and paced to the window, thinking. What would it hurt for him to think it a battle? Was it not wise for the lord of a castle to fortify and be prepared for anything? And yet would that not likely change history in another way, if Castello Greco became as strong as Castello Forelli? Thinking it all through, from every which way, made my head hurt.

  “Gabriella,” he said, taking my hand in his, and covering it with his other.

  I gasped and tried to wrench away, but he held on. Even took hold of my other hand.

  “You shall tell me, Gabriella,” he said, pained. “I shall have the truth. If the Fiorentini capture me, Alessandra…” His voice broke, and tears welled in his eyes. I saw that he pressed on behalf of his wife, his new daughter, not in some odd pursuit of me. “They would subject them both to the vilest of treatment, Gabriella.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and it made me tear up, too. “They would give her to the men to have their way with her before killing her before my very eyes. They would murder that precious child. Please. Please, I must know.”

  I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. I could feel a Braxton-Hicks coming on, the muscles at my lower back tightening…

  “’Tis not that sort of battle we shall face, Rodolfo,” I whispered. “That which you suppose…”

  He frowned, his hands tightening around mine. “Nay?”

  “Nay.” I lowered my head, shaking it, feeling a measure of the pain that was to come…

  “Gabriella,” he said, his tone now full of warning.

  “I cannot tell you, Rodolfo.”

  His hands moved to my shoulders, and he squeezed. “You must. You must.” He shook me a little.

  “Nay! Nay!” I tried to wrench away, but he held fast. “Unhand me! Rodolfo!”

  Falito pounded on the door. “M’lady?”

  “Nay! I am all right, Falito. Forgive me for frightening you!” I looked up at Rodolfo, waiting for him to regain control, to loosen his hold on me.

  He dropped his hands, looking contrite and frustrated. One hand went to his hip, the other to massage his head. “Please,” he said, dropping to one knee before me. “Please,” he whispered.

  I stared down into his handsome face.

  My friend.

  Marcello’s blood brother.

  How could I keep it a secret? If it might save him and his family?

  “’Tis the plague, Rodolfo,” I whispered, feeling numb.

  “What? The plague?”

  “Worse than anything you’ve ever en
countered. Ever seen,” I said, tears now rolling down my face, imagining our lovely valley, all the villages that would be subjected to illness, death…

  He swallowed hard. “When?”

  “Two years from now it shall reach Venezia, Pisa, Ancona, Sicily. Within months, it shall sweep through all of Italia. And this is the worst part,” I said, so faintly I wondered if he could even hear me. I stared into his eyes. “It shall remain with us, like a hungry tiger, with us inside the cage. For four years. And in that time, it shall take one-third of our friends and family members. Even half, in some cities.”

  His lips parted, his eyes widening in horror, then growing distant.

  He dropped my hands, rising painfully, as if he weren’t in his late twenties, but rather an old man, then he returned to rubbing his head.

  “We shall leave,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder. “We must all leave. Take to the seas and outrun it.”

  “Nay,” I said with a small shake of my head, rubbing my lower back, suddenly killing me. “There is nowhere to go that it won’t either await us or come after us. ’Tis a battle for the whole known world.”

  “Known world,” he repeated, his eyes hardening. “What of your world, your land? We could go there.”

  “Nay,” I said. “I don’t know if it would work and—”

  “Gabriella,” he said, walking toward me. “Don’t you see? I speak not of the tomb. I speak of going elsewhere, in our time. Far away. Take to the seas! We could all set sail and go to your land. From whence you came.”

  “Nay,” I said, shaking my head, with a small, hopeless laugh. I was pretty fuzzy on a lot of history and how we might screw it up. But I was totally sure that Dad would freak if we suggested we beat Christopher Columbus to America. And the pilgrims didn’t exactly have it easy. “Nay,” I said more emphatically as his jaw tightened, preparing to wear me down. “’Tis impossible. And even if we did go, ’twould only present us other battles.”

  I sighed and reached out to lay a hand on his forearm. “What lies ahead of us is frightening, for certain,” I said. “But ’tis a known battle. And Marcello is provisioning to protect any of his brothers who have come to our aid at risk of their own lives. He feels he owes it to you, as do I. You and Alessandra shall not be alone. When this evil comes to our valley and hills, there shall be room for you and your little girl within our very own walls if need be. But, Rodolfo, you must not tell anyone of this. Not even Alessandra.”