Waterfall

by Lisa T. Bergren

  I shoved myself upward then, barely stifling my scream. It was animal-like, I admitted to myself. And Lia was immediately beside me.

  “That bad?”

  “That bad.”

  She carefully pulled up the edge of the old white shirt I had slept in, and peered at my side. I couldn’t bear to look. She shuddered and quickly let the light silk fabric fall. “Better than yesterday, but not good. You are a walking infection waitin’ to happen. We gotta go home, Gabs. Fast.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

  “If these people discover holes in our story, we might go from being the belles of the ball to the bombs. You should see ’em, Gabs. Most of them look at me like I’m some sort of celebrity. But there are some that look at me suspiciously. Like they want to take me down. Like that Romana chick. She has some serious issues.”

  “I can’t ride a horse today, Lia. It already feels like my side is about to rip loose. That’d do it for sure.”

  “What if I found a wagon? Something you could lie down in?”

  “Not today,” I said, ending the debate. I lifted my hand to my head. I was sweating—just from the effort of sitting. It was going to take everything in me to squat and go to the bathroom, and she wanted me to travel?

  To her credit, she didn’t leave me then. Usually, when we got into arguments, she’d run away, go someplace to be alone. But then, I supposed she thought it worse outside our room’s walls than inside them.

  Far more dangerous. Far more conflict.

  As she thought he might, Marcello appeared after we finished lunch in the privacy of our quarters. He hovered in the doorway, shifting his eyes about the room as if ill at ease. “M’lady, how does the day find you?”

  “As well as can be expected,” I said, looking away, embarrassed at the memory of my desperation the day before.

  “I have brought the physician,” he said. I looked back, and he stood sideways to allow a small man to enter. “Dr. Macchione, these are the Ladies Betarrini.”

  The man nodded, but said nothing, just strode over to me. He peered at me with narrowed eyes as if he couldn’t see properly. “May I examine your wound, m’lady?”

  Slowly, I lifted my shirt to expose my side, praying there was no infection. My worst fear was that the man would want to put leeches on me, or maggots in the wound to eat away at dying flesh. They did that sometimes. Really. I’d heard all about it from Cook. Totally disgusting.

  He lifted his head and looked at Lia. “You stitched her back together, m’lady?”

  “I did,” Lia said.

  “Where did you learn such prowess?”

  I looked away from her, not wanting her to see the grin in my eyes. Because the nearest answer was elementary school projects with Grammy. She mumbled something about watching a doctor in our own land do the same, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. He stood again, this time moving to the head of the bed to examine my eyes, tongue, and then the beds of my fingernails. Looking for what? Signs of fever, infection, dehydration? Oh, or that body humours thing? I was surprised when he didn’t ask for a urine sample. Apparently, they figured out a lot by the odor, appearance—even taste—of a person’s urine.

  “You are faring far better than I expected,” he said at last. “I will leave you a bottle of tonic, which should ease the pain a bit.” He bent and pulled a clay bottle from his bag. “Take a mouthful now.”

  “What is it?”

  The little doctor frowned and looked back at Marcello.

  “Gabriella, this man is one of the finest physicians in all of Siena,” he said, looking as if I was embarrassing him. “He has long tended Romana’s own family.”

  Oh, great. I see what you’re saying. If the dude is good enough for ROMANA, then he’s certainly more than okay for me, right?

  I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes as I reached for the bottle. I took a swig and nearly gagged at the foul, grasslike taste in my mouth, forcing myself to swallow. It burned all the way down my throat. The little doctor went back to his bag and rifled through twenty ton of parchment packets, pulling one out. He carefully unfolded the parchment and took a pinch of the powder. “This may hurt a bit, but it will guard against infection.”

  “What is that?”

  His small eyes narrowed in my direction, as if to say, Who are you to keep questioning me? No doubt Marcello had been true to his word and summoned only the best from Siena. But we were in the middle of 1332. I had a right to know what the man was putting on me, even if I had just swallowed some unknown tonic.

  “Lady Gabriella has some prowess in the healing arts,” Marcello interceded.

  The doctor sniffed. “It is my own blend of powders, a secret recipe,” he said.

  I studied him. “All right,” I said, bracing myself for the pain.

  But when he sprinkled it on my wound, I didn’t feel anything. My eyes widened. For the first time since I got injured, I didn’t feel anything at all. I was numb from the chest down. It was a little disconcerting. But mostly, it was a relief. I took a deep breath, my first in days.

  Gradually, I figured out that it hadn’t been what he’d sprinkled on top of me; it had been the tonic.

  “Please, Dr. Macchione. I am most curious. What was in that tonic?”

  “I cannot tell,” he said with a wink. “One doesn’t become the finest physician in Siena if one shares all his secrets, right?” He placed his envelope back in his bag and then looked at me. “It is easing your pain?”

  “You could say that.”

  He smiled an eensy smile, just a half second of a tiny upturning of his thin lips. “I shall be within reach, m’lady. You only need summon me. I shall return this evening to administer more medicine to your wound.”

  “Thank you,” I said, watching him scurry past Marcello and out the door.

  Marcello looked back at me with a grin. “Fortino and I would be in your debt if you would allow us to bring you out to the games. The people—” He paused to look over his shoulder, as if he could see through the stones—“they shall not rest until they lay eyes upon you. There is much concern over the wounded she-wolf.”

  “Oh, m’lord, I do not know if I can bear it,” I said. Though seeing him here made me want to watch him out in the games. To see him wield a sword one more time. Do his man thing. So I could remember, when I got home. Maybe I could even get Lia to sketch him.

  He took a step into the room, lifting a hand as if beseeching me. “We’ll carry you in. You’ll watch, like Cleopatra, lounging upon her settee.”

  I lifted a brow. “That would be quite dramatic.”

  “Evangelia has agreed to give a demonstration of her archery skills,” he said, looking to my sister.

  “I hardly had a choice,” she said, raising her hands.

  “Nay,” Marcello said with a smile. “Indeed, I believe it will be the most interesting part of the games. Everyone is dying to best her.”

  I smiled then, too. “I must attend, then. But only if I may wager a small fortune before the event takes place.”

  His smile grew wider—because I agreed to go? Or because of my dare? “You shall have a difficult time finding takers. Most want to place their hopes on Evangelia’s shoulders.”

  “Except one,” she said, meeting his eyes.

  “Pay Lord Foraboschi no mind,” he said. But I think we both noticed his smile disappear. “He has long been the champion when it comes to archery. He needs to learn how to gracefully abdicate his position when faced with a more skilled challenger.”

  I flicked my eyes in Lia’s direction. She was nervous.

  Lord Foraboschi. The creepy, tall guy who hung out with Romana and her entourage. The guy who shot our prisoners while they were tied up. I shuddered involuntarily. But Marcello had looked away, dismissing my concern. “Your
days of fear are over. There are only friends among us. Loyal Sienese.”

  I glanced at Lia again. She clearly didn’t agree with him.

  “You will attend?” Marcello asked, his eyes on me. It was more of a command than a question. And I felt powerless to say anything but yes.

  Light filled his eyes, and he dared to finally cross the room to my side. “I’ll send servants in an hour for you. There will be shade, and if you grow weary, simply lift this,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, “and I’ll have you returned to your room immediately.” Staring down at me, he rubbed the side of my cheek with the back of his hand.

  I nodded, breaking our intense gaze, and then closed my eyes as if falling asleep again.

  He started, as if shocked out of his reverie, and turned to go. “The gown?” he whispered to Lia.

  “I shall attempt to get it on her,” she said. “But I make no promises, m’lord.”

  He left then, without another word, and I opened my eyes to look at Lia. She was staring at me, chin in hand, shaking her head. She came over to my bed and sat on the edge. “It can’t happen,” she whispered, looking over my shoulder to the doorway and back. “You realize that, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, more forlornly than I intended. But I was feeling free, unbound. Maybe it was the medicine. “You’ll need to help me remember. Help me memorize Marcello, the kind of man he is. Because I want to find someone like him in our time.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I choked, unable to say another word. Maybe the medicine was whacking me out. It was like I had no control over my emotions.

  She took my hand and squeezed it. “I’ll help you, Gabi. It’ll be okay. You’re only seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you.” She reached out to stroke my face and tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’ll see. It’ll be okay.” She rose and pulled my gown from the trunk, shaking it out.

  But all I could think of was her hand on my face and how it reminded me of Marcello’s touch.

  And how I longed for him to touch me again.

  CHAPTER 25

  The servants came and prepared us like brides on our wedding day, weaving pearls and flowers into our hair. They’d rebound my wound in order to slide the underdress over my shoulders and hips, then the gown on top of it. Blessedly, the pain medicine continued to work. I could wiggle my toes, which kept the panic over paralysis at bay, and I was no longer numb. I wondered if that tonic was a fourteenth-century version of morphine. Whatever it was, I was just glad it was available. Thank You, thank You, God, that the doctor came.

  Was that the second real prayer I’d ever whispered?

  Wouldn’t that be an interesting payout, I thought. I fly through time and come back with some sort of religion.

  It seemed flimsy, a lame second prize to staying with Marcello and living happily ever after, but it was all I had at the moment, and it was something.

  Lia was looking at me strangely when the maids stepped away.

  “What?”

  “Man, Gabi, you are gorgeous.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Not when there’s a chick out there,” she said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder, “barely able to keep from clawing your eyes out.”

  “Never mind about her,” I said, laughing under my breath. “Tell me about Lord Foraboschi.” She’d said something earlier that had been niggling at me, and I needed to know what was at the heart of it.

  She shifted and played with the toe of her tapestry slipper. For the first time that day, I noticed how amazing she looked too. Cinderella would’ve killed to look like my sister in that moment. “Lia—”

  “I couldn’t help it.” She lifted her big, blue eyes and stared at me.

  “What? What’d you do?”

  “He was taunting me. Saying that I probably hit the knights in Castello Paratore by accident—that I was aiming in another direction.”

  “And?”

  “I—I started to cry. It was either that or draw my arrow and split his head open, I swear. And then Luca figured out what had upset me and started to get all angry and belted Lord Foraboschi—”

  “Oh no,” I said with a heavy sigh. “And what did Lord Foraboschi do?”

  She rose and paced back and forth. “I think he’s a little afraid of Luca. He pretended to go after him, but only when he was really sure that others would stop him.” She shook her head. “I don’t like the way he looks at me. It’s like he knows. Or he’s trying to figure me out, figure out how he can bring me down.”

  “Don’t let him get to you,” I said.

  She hesitated.

  “What?” I said.

  She licked her lips. “I saw him, earlier. He was whispering in Lord Rossi’s ear. He ate lunch beside Romana. He’s more than friends with them. He’s close to them.”

  I considered that. “Well, it makes sense. He was here with Romana when I first arrived, almost like a guardian or something. Look, until we get out of here, we’re going to run into many who feel loyal to the Rossis.” I shrugged. “It’s only natural, really. They want to see this relationship with Castello Forelli secured, once and for all. Some will want to see Romana to her own, promised happy ending. If I’m in the way, I’m going to be seen as the enemy. And you, as my sister, are one too.”

  “We should’ve just gone when—”

  “We’re here. Let’s see it through. Maybe with this pain medicine…maybe there will be an opportunity to escape tonight. With all the comings and goings of the feast, you know.”

  Her eyes filled with hope. And then fear for me.

  “Let’s just see,” I said, waving down her excitement. “Let’s get through the games and see. But Lia, you can’t win today.” I looked at her, hard. “Let Lord Foraboschi win. It’s not worth it, inviting his wrath.”

  She frowned, struggling with that idea. She was such a weird combination of free-spirited artist and fierce competitor. But only when it came to archery. She’d never let me beat her in archery, even back when we were little and I could really challenge her. Maybe it was the precision thing, like placing just the right stroke with a brush loaded with oil paint. She liked to do that right on the first try too.

  “Lia…”

  “He really is a pompous, egotistical jerk.”

  “I agree. There are nicer guys on the planet, but is it worth making this deal more complicated? Don’t you think it’s already complicated enough, without you taking him on?”

  She hesitated.

  “Well, think it over,” I said, pretty much giving up at that point. “Why risk it? This isn’t a historic event anyway, right?”

  “Right,” she said. But her tone said she still wasn’t in agreement with me about throwing the match.

  A knock sounded at our door, and then a male servant peeked in. “M’lady,” he said. “We’re here to escort you to the games.”

  “Come in,” I said, waving him forward. Another came with him.

  “Can you walk? Or shall we carry you to your carriage?”

  “Let me try and rise,” I said, taking hold of each of their arms. But when I came to my feet, my knees crumpled beneath me and I felt a wave of nausea. From the pain? Or was it the medicine?

  Luckily, the men had a firm grip on me and carried me on my bed to the hallway, with Lia right behind us. “You okay?” she whispered to me.

  “I think so,” I said. I lifted my hand to my head. A wave of dizziness was there, then gone.

  The little doctor appeared. Why hadn’t I noticed him before? “M’lady, are you certain this will not overly tax you?”

  I was sitting there, suspended in the air on a bed. It was all I could do not to laugh. “I think not,” I managed to say.

  “Well then, here is another dose of pain medic
ine,” he said, handing me the bottle.

  I gladly took a swig, ignoring the unpleasant taste of grass and fertilizer sailing down my throat. If it would continue to keep that horrendous pain at bay, I was game. I settled back down to a pile of pillows and waved the servants onward, indeed feeling a bit like Cleopatra, lounging upon her settee. All I needed was for them to cover the wood in gold leaf and for a couple of the guys to whip out giant palm branches and fan me.

  We went out to the courtyard, and I was a bit shocked at the hundreds of people that lined the edge, all sitting in chairs and beneath tented roofs, shielding themselves from the sun. Marcello smiled and strode over to us, Luca and Fortino at his side, as the servants set me on a platform.

  The crowd hushed as Marcello took my hand, bowed and kissed it, then Fortino did the same, still holding it as he turned back toward the courtyard. I caught sight of Lord Forelli, looking befuddled and a little irritated, but with far more color than when I had last seen him. Beside him sat Lord Rossi and Romana. I dared not look to see where Marcello had moved. They all watched my every move.

  Fortino turned toward Lia and urged her to his other side, so he could hold both our hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” called Fortino. “I present at last, the two warriors that turned the tide for Siena, the Ladies Betarrini.”

  I had expected a cheer, applause, shouting. But what happened next was something I’d never forget.

  Every man, woman, and child stood, and as one they bowed or curtsied, as if we were royalty before them. It was deathly quiet, and in the hush, a wave of honor swept over me. I was overwhelmed. I glanced at Lia, who looked like she was feeling the same, lifting a hand to her lips.

  Slowly, everyone stood again, and then I saw that they all had flowers in their hands. They paraded past us then, setting their roses and day lilies and daisies at our feet, bowing and nodding with smiles of appreciation. In those precious minutes, I was swept up into the glory of it, all the more glad that we had been there that night, right when Marcello and Luca and the rest needed us most. Maybe we had given them a few more years of health and prosperity, something to lean on in the hard years to come.