The River of Time Series

by Lisa T. Bergren

  He pulled Lia to the far wall and wrenched her hands together, wrapping a leather band around them and tying it tight.

  I cried out to her, but Lord Vannucci held me fast, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pressing my back against him, keeping me in place.

  “Please,” I said, tears dripping down my face. Lia did not cry. She merely looked utterly surprised, still unsure this was really unfolding. As if Lord Paratore was joking around, about to let her go and escort her to the ball he had dressed her for.

  But I knew. I knew. This was all about me. And making me remember how much was at stake.

  I closed my eyes, unable to bear watching Lord Paratore attach a hook to Lia’s bindings and the hook to a chain. He reached over and cranked the chain until she had to stand on her tiptoes.

  “Lord Paratore,” she gasped, wide blue eyes upon him.

  But his gaze was on me. He moved to a contraption in the corner and lovingly ran his fingers across it. “Do you know what this is, Lady Betarrini?”

  “I can guess,” I said.

  “You attach a prisoner’s feet here.” He pointed to the bottom. “His hands here, and then you crank, crank until you hear his vertebrae begin to crack and pop. Sometimes it’s his shoulders or knees. I’d wager it would work for a woman as well.”

  Now Lia was crying. “Stop it,” I spit out. “Cease! I understand.” You’re the biggest jerk ever. A bully. And I have to do what you say.

  “Do you? There’s another alternative.” He walked over to a cage in the corner. “She’s a pretty thing. Birdlike. Mayhap I’ll put her up in the corner of the courtyard. Give the men something fine to play with and admire.”

  I shook my head, speechless at his evil taunting.

  “So let’s go through the plan again, Lady Betarrini,” he said. “We shall not have time for a protracted siege. Sienese forces would arrive within hours, and then we’d lose the advantage.”

  “Cut off their messengers. Make certain no word reaches Siena,” I said, remembering what Fortino had told me to say when this came up.

  He lifted his chin, considering my words.

  “But the length of the siege is not up to me; it is up to you. Our deal”—I pried Lord Vannucci’s arm away and turned to face him—“and our deal,” I said, whipping my head around to face Lord Paratore, “was that I help you gain entrance—entrance, that was all. And then you were to give me my sister.”

  The two men shared a long look, then glanced back to me.

  “Gain us entrance as you promised, and in two days’ time, you will be away with your sister, under the protection of my own men,” Lord Paratore said. “You will reach Firenze as day breaks, your load of gold behind you.” He stepped forward and stared down at me. “Go now, Lady Betarrini, back to the Forellis,” he said slowly, “before you are missed.”

  I looked to Lia. “I’ll be back for you,” I promised. She nodded, trying to be brave, but there were still tears running down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I turned to go, but Lord Vannucci put an arm in front of the doorway. I looked up at him. What now?

  “Know this, m’lady,” he said in a whisper, leaning toward my ear, “if we run into a trap, your sister will bear the full cost of your betrayal. She will die, and not before she begs for it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  I was walking with Luca the next morning, telling him of Castello Paratore’s dungeon and the route inward, shivering at the thought of Lia still suffering, listening to details of Fortino’s plan, when the guards called down to open the gates.

  Fortino wanted Paratore to believe that he could have the castello—so that Marcello, in turn, could attack Castello Paratore and claim due provocation. If war came, they were ready for that, too. Years of having to hold back, of not being able to invite full-on war, was about to end. Fury and greed could have their full sway.

  And it all hinged on the Betarrini girls’ arrival from the twenty-first century. Super.

  We paused and watched as an old, hunched-over man came limping into the castello courtyard, pulling a mule, which in turn pulled a cart loaded with hay. Two guards moved in on the old man to search his robes.

  But as soon as the gates screeched to a close behind him, he lifted his hood and straightened. The guards took a step back and laughed.

  It took a sec, but then I knew.

  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, Gabriella.”

  “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 father—get 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 twenty-first 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.