by Gian Bordin
"Yes," replied Antonia, reluctantly, "but where in the mountains … it will be so difficult in the cold and snow."
"I have an uncle in Urbino," ventured Giovanni. "He may be willing to take us in."
"The Count of Montefeltro will surely close the gates of his seat too, like other towns in the Marches," answered Lorenzo, "and there are only mule tracks over the mountains from Urbino. We’ll do better to stick to Via Flaminia which will get us to Gubbio or Perugia and then we’re back on our old circuit through Tuscany."
Via Flaminia, the road the Romans built to connect Rome to the north, was still the best way across the mountains and passable by carts.
"But you just said to avoid towns," interjected Carlo.
"We stick to the road, but don’t enter any towns, at least not until we’re safely in the mountains. I also think that it’s better if we don’t offer any shows. We want to get to safety as quickly as possible. Do you agree?"
He looked around, and most players nodded. Nor do we want to be accused of witchcraft or sorcery in this climate of mistrust and uncertainty, Chiara argued silently to herself.
"I suggest we leave tomorrow. We may find an abandoned farmhouse somewhere between Fossombrone and Cagli."
"We need to buy enough food for several weeks," remarked Chiara, "including oats or barley for the horse."
"We can do this on our way. Let’s pack the carts tonight, so we can get an early start."
Chiara caught up with him as he left the room. "Lorenzo, I’m sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about."
"I feel bad about Pietro and Anna leaving. Couldn’t we try to make peace with them?"
"You’re a strange one. He accuses you and you plead for them."
"His accusations were so ridiculous that I can’t take them seriously. He lost his head in the heat of the argument."
"That may well be so… No, I won’t change my decision. It was his choice. Nobody forced him. He has been a nuisance almost from the start, and Anna has little talent and even less willingness to learn. We’ll have no difficulties finding a better musician and we don’t need to replace her. But we can’t lose you. You’re a natural like there are few. And besides, you carry a head on your shoulders that I wish it were mine… and now you even have the decency to blush."
"Lorenzo, may I embrace you?"
"Why?"
"Because you believe in me."
He hugged her and murmured: "Oh, you sweet child. You’re such a contradictory mixture of innocence and wild courage."
* * *
Next morning under a dark, leaden sky, they went north to the junction of the coastal road and Via Flaminia. They did not see Pietro and Anna, who must have left even earlier, nor did they know where they had gone. With no major settlements on the true left of the Metauro River before Fossombrone, they were unable to get any supplies, since even villages seemed deserted, except for an occasional face or shadow behind the rare small glass windows. Few people were on the road, and those that were made every effort to avoid each other. More than once, other travelers left the road when they saw their group and only returned to it after the carts were well past them. When darkness fell, they looked for a dry place to pass the night. The first farmhouse they tried, the farmer did not even open the door. The second one grudgingly offered the animal barn, but only after Lorenzo pointed out that they had not been in any town for four days and showed him a silver coin. However, they had to prepare their own meal, since the farmer’s wife refused to have anything to do with them. They spent a cold and miserable night in the filth of the barn. Its only saving grace was that they were out of the rain.
Late afternoon of the next day they were outside Fossombrone. It had drizzled all day long. Although entry into the city was still allowed, they debated long whether to stay inside for one night or only replenish their food supplies and find shelter elsewhere. In the end, the temptation of a dry night in a warm inn with hot food prepared for them proved too strong and they took quarters in the first taverna they came across.
"I guess you’ll be one of the last group of guests I’ll see for a long time," the host greeted them. "Urbino has locked its gates and I just heard rumors that Count Montefeltro’s governor has received orders to close the gates of our city by tomorrow. I advise you to leave early, or else you might be stuck here."
"Thanks for the advice," answered Lorenzo. "We’ll do that. We only need to restock our food supplies."
"That’s no problem. I can sell you almost anything you might need and at better prices than the grain and meat merchants. I get my supplies directly from the farmers."
"Good. I’ll have my scribe prepare a list for you." He winked at Chiara.
They relished the thick broth with big chunks of fatty meat and winter vegetables, which they shared with several other travelers who had arrived from Urbino the day before — just the kind of meal for a cold winter’s day. While they were sitting around the fire, enjoying a good cup of wine, the host’s young wife approached Antonia and asked whether she would read the cards for her. Antonia refused since they had agreed not to offer any services.
"Please, Signora, do it for me. I expect my first child and it would be a great comfort to know if all goes well," she begged, and her husband added: "You don’t have to worry. Nobody here will denounce you to the Inquisition. They haven’t heard an accusation for ages in this town."
Antonia looked at Lorenzo, who nodded. So she went with the young woman into the private quarters behind the kitchen. Chiara retired to their room and did not hear Antonia join her.
* * *
Midmorning, they were on their way again, stocked up with food for themselves and feed for their animals. A league west of Fossombrone, they crossed the Metauro River just beyond its confluence with the Candigliano and followed that river southwest through the gorge it had cut into the hills. At Acqualagna, where the Burano joins the Candigliano, they crossed over the old bridge, one of several on Via Flaminia still surviving from Roman times. By then, they were again looking for shelter and spotted another farmhouse a few hundred paces off the road shortly after the bridge. It turned out to be abandoned, but provided shelter from the incessant rain. An old leaky barn protected their carts and animals from the worst of the elements. After taking care of the horse and the donkey, feeding each some oats, Chiara joined the other players around the fire to get warm and dry out while a soup of grains, cabbage, and cubes of fresh pork simmered in a big pot.
They were just enjoying their last bites, with plenty of soup left over for breakfast, when without warning five soldiers with drawn swords burst into the room, followed by a black-robed priest and a youth of fourteen or fifteen. They all rose alarmed.
"Is that the woman, boy?" asked the priest, pointing at Antonia.
"Yes, Padre, that’s her, and these are the people she was with."
Chiara recognized him as one of the servants of the inn in Fossombrone. What’s the matter? Why the priest? she wondered.
"Seize her, captain," the priest ordered.
Lorenzo, his face showing bewilderment, stood in front of Antonia and asked: "Padre, would you please explain what is happening?"
Two soldiers pushed him aside and grabbed Antonia by her arms.
"Do not interfere unless you want to be arrested too. This woman is accused of having performed maleficent magic, Maleficium." He pointed at her with his knobbly index finger.
"Padre, I respectfully ask why? What has she done?"
"She has caused the death of the innkeeper in Fossombrone, the husband of the woman to whom she foretold that death was stalking the house, and her guilt will be judged by the holy office of the Inquisition. And all of you will have to come back to Urbino to be questioned by the Papal Inquisitor to the holy office."
But he was in full health when we left, flashed through Chiara’s mind. A sudden shiver caught her. The pestilence? They said that people die within hours. She saw how fright replaced bewilderment on
the players’ faces. We could have caught it too. She pushed that fear aside. Right now, she must only think of Antonia, of how to save her. Do something, quick! She came a few steps closer to the priest and said in a pious tone: "Padre, I am Chiara da Montalbano, the niece of Count d’Este, and I am at your service." She fell naturally into the familiar role of the young lady of noble birth. "I also felt that there was something impious and wicked about this woman when she joined us outside Fossombrone two days ago and asked whether she could travel with us. But we did not want to be heartless and refuse somebody old and frail."
She noticed the surprised and puzzled looks of the players. Her gaze briefly on Lorenzo, she shook her head slightly, hoping to prevent further protests, and started breathing again when he closed his mouth.
"Padre, I would be honored to accompany you to Urbino and testify," she continued, "but there surely is no need for my servants to also undertake this arduous trip. They hardly know her. As I said, this woman only happened to travel on the same road as we, and I let her join my party out of charity. My servants would not be able to tell you more than I can, and forcing them to return to Urbino would greatly delay my pilgrimage to Rome. Generous padre, you would earn my eternal gratefulness and that of my illustrious family if you allowed them to continue slowly to Cagli and wait for me there."
Although the priest’s eyes betrayed a trace of suspicion, she immediately saw that his demeanor became less haughty and he bowed. The reference to Count d’ Este had done the trick.
"This is gracious of you, my lady. His Excellence, the Papal Inquisitor will welcome your testimony."
Suddenly, Antonia screamed: "You horrible girl! Why did I ever trust you?" At the same time she broke away from the soldiers and dashed to the door. Chiara had never seen her move so fast.
"Get her!" cried both the priest and the captain at the same time.
The two soldiers quickly caught up with her inside the door. Antonia tried to fight them off. She bit one of her captors. He yelled out in pain.
"Hit her, fool," shouted the priest.
He punched her face hard, and the old woman collapsed to the earthen floor. They lifted her up and tried to make her stand, but she was unconscious.
With the attention of the priest and the soldiers on the old woman, Chiara searched the eyes of her colleagues, putting her index finger to her mouth and shaking her head. They seemed to understand that she had a scheme that required their cooperation. But she had no firm plan yet. The first thing she wanted to achieve was to prevent the rest of the players to be arrested too.
"Captain, put her into irons and gag her," ordered the priest. "We don’t want to hear her ungodly screams when she wakes up."
A soldier went outside and returned shortly with two chains and a strip of cloth. He shackled Antonia’s hands and feet and then gagged her.
"Soldier, be careful you do not suffocate the old woman," admonished Chiara, "and deprive the holy Inquisition of trying to save her soul." Though these were hardly her thoughts.
"Yes, Primo, check that she can breathe," added the captain. "And now tie her to the mule."
"Messer Captain, Padre," cried Chiara, turning from one to the other, "you do not intend to travel in this rain when you could spend the night by a warm fire. I would welcome the security of your company. Look, there is even enough soup left to satisfy your hunger, and I have a jug of good wine on our cart to cheer you."
The captain’s eyes lit up. There was little doubt that he wanted to accept her offer, but was looking to the priest for approval.
"What do you say, Padre?" questioned Chiara, showering the priest with a charming smile.
"Gracious lady, how could I refuse such generous hospitality. The weather is indeed inclement. The very thought of going outside is repugnant, and a belly-full of warm soup and wine would be welcome and restore our spirits. Captain, order your troop to set up camp in here for the night. The room is large enough to share with her ladyship."
"Lorenzo," cried Chiara, hoping that the corago would also fall into his role, "come with me to fetch the wine from our cart."
"Yes, my lady," he replied and followed her out.
They were hardly outside, when he whispered: "Why this charade? What’s on your mind?"
She put a finger on her lips and continued into the shed. "First, gain time to get Antonia away."
"How?"
"Get them drunk and then overpower them or sneak away while they are asleep."
"Overpower soldiers? We would have to kill them. And sneaking away won’t work. They’ll follow us next day, and then we all are in trouble."
"We can hide."
"They’ll find us."
"Not if they look in the wrong direction. We go back a league or so and then up into the hills. All we have to do is to avoid leaving tracks."
He shook his head, expressing both amazement and doubt. "I shouldn’t be surprised by you anymore."
"Come now, we have no time to lose. Let’s just hope that the others will cooperate and behave like servants, without questioning my orders."
"I’ll let them know."
Before returning into the house, she quickly hid four of Pepe’s throwing knives in the deep pockets of her cloak.
The soldiers and the boy were waiting impatiently near the fire, eyeing the kettle of hot soup eagerly. Chiara fetched two bowls, filled each to the top and gave one to the priest and the other to the captain, together with spoons. By then, Alda had handed out spoons to the four soldiers and the boy, who immediately plunged them into the pot. Lorenzo distributed pieces of bread to everybody, serving the priest and the captain first.
"Carlo, what are you waiting for? Hand out cups with wine and don’t be stingy," Chiara ordered. "Here, Pepe, help him." She gave the second jug to him, while at the same time passing him two of his knives.
He looked at her for a moment, uncertain. "Yes, my lady," he said and helped Carlo fill seven cups to the brim, while Giovanni handed them out.
Chiara joined the priest and told him about her pilgrimage to Rome and her fervent wish to pray at all the places where Saint Peter himself had stood in prayer to the Lord, that she also planned to visit Assisi where she hoped to spend time in prayer and deep contemplation at the shrine of San Francesco. She became aware that, although none of the players looked at her directly, they all seemed to listen attentively to her story, and could not help blushing, but the priest interpreted this as another sign of her pious devotion and treated her with heightened benevolence.
Antonia regained consciousness, but seemed dazed and disoriented. Her face was badly swollen and one eye completely closed. It pained Chiara, but she also prayed silently that the old woman would not cause any further trouble.
Carlo refilled the cups of the soldiers several times. The signs that her scheme was working did not take long to appear. All four, including the captain, yawned repeatedly.
"Captain, I cannot help noticing that your men seem tired from their long march, and I’m sure the same is true of my servants. If it is agreeable with you, I will now try to get some rest too. You don’t mind if I choose this space here." She pointed at the area just behind her, closer to the door. "It is rather drafty back there and your men will surely not mind indulging the health of a young noble woman. I think there is even enough straw in the barn for everybody."
"I will be pleased to do as your ladyship suggests, and since our prisoner is bound and gagged, there is no need to set a guard. Men, fetch straw, including a bundle for Fra Anselmo and myself."
The players took this as a signal to do the same, and Pepe brought Chiara an extra thick bundle. He also added more wood to the fire.
"Look, Padre, there is some wine left in this jug. It will not improve if it is left overnight."
She refilled his cup and did the same for the captain. Then she gave the jug to one of the soldiers, smiling. "There is even some left for you and the boy. May God give you a restful night."
They all responded
and the priest, not wanting to be outdone, answered: "May God watch over all of us, my gracious lady."
She thanked him and then lay down, closest to the fire, covering herself with her cloak. The players did the same, Lorenzo next to her, but keeping a polite distance.
The priest had chosen a place on the other side of the fire, away from the soldiers. Soon the sounds of unfamiliar snoring reached her over the steady pounding of the rain on the roof. She raised herself a bit and saw how the lips of the priest opened with every breath, a clear sign that he was fully asleep. She signaled to Lorenzo, who crawled closer.
"This is what we’ll do," she whispered into his ear and told him her plan. Twice, he shook his head in protest, but she insisted and in the end he agreed to go along, though reluctantly.
When she gave the signal, Pepe tiptoed over to the captain, removed the sword he had placed in the floor, and stood guard, while Lorenzo, followed by Carlo, went and grabbed the priest in a neck stranglehold to prevent him from making any sound. They carried the man noiselessly outside into the barn with Maria holding a torch. Chiara and Alda carried Antonia out there also. Giovanni had already retrieved a small tool from their toolbox and quickly unlocked the irons.
Chiara held a knife under the priest’s chin and hissed: "One sound and you will meet your maker. Now, open your mouth wide… Do it, now!"
His eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and he was shaking like a leaf. He had hardly opened his mouth when Lorenzo stuffed a piece of cloth into it and gagged him firmly. Then he and Carlo stripped him. Alda had already retrieved another set of warm garments for Antonia, and she and Maria helped her change. Lorenzo dressed the priest in Antonia’s tattered and dirty clothes. After his hands and feet were in irons, only a close look revealed that it was not Antonia.
Giovanni and Carlo were already hitching the animals to the carts.
"Now hit his face until he is unconscious!" murmured Chiara.
"No, I can’t do that."
