I frowned up at him in shock. “You would not.”
“I would,” he said, frowning back. “To keep you safe. To keep you alive.”
“Sir Forelli!” called a man outside. “Sir Forelli!”
Marcello gave me one last, long stare and then let me go. I regretted not kicking him in the shin with everything I had in me. Of all the outrageous—
“Sir Forelli!” Pietro called, opening the tent flap. “Come!”
Marcello left with him. They ran down the line of tents to the edge of camp. I hobbled along behind. Men were surging around me, shrugging into breastplates and shoulder guards, urgently preparing for battle.
“Gabriella! Gabi!” Lia cried, shoving her way through to me. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Where’s Mom?” But then I saw her, making her way over to us, staff in hand. She looked regal. Like a queen. Calm. Unafraid.
Together, we reached the top of the hill. Across the valley was the back wall of Castello Forelli, and before her was line after line of soldiers bearing the flag of Firenze.
Lia blew the air out of her cheeks and casually pulled her bow from her shoulder. “Do they mean to attack? Because we do not—”
A trumpet sounded, and the men across from us cheered, their voices eerily following their actions by a second’s delay.
“Knights in formation!” Marcello bellowed. Men all around us quickened their pace.
But my eyes remained on the enemies across from us. They parted at the center, and we heard laughter, triumphant cries. A man stumbled forward, hands tied before him. He was naked, gruesomely bloody. Who was it? A prisoner? My stomach clenched inside as a man reached out to whip the prisoner’s back, sending him to the dirt.
“Who is it?” Mom asked, stepping up beside me.
But then I saw Marcello take a step, falter, bring a hand to his chest.
No, it can’t…please, no. No!
It was Fortino.
Men on our side shouted and cursed, eager to charge, to free one of their lords. Others held them back, waiting on Marcello’s orders.
Paratore trotted down the hill, past Fortino—who now lay unmoving—and on toward us, flag bearers on either side of him. He waited halfway down the hill, unwilling to go any farther. Blasted, cursed, wretched excuse of a man…
Two knights rode up, Marcello’s mount between them. He was atop it in seconds. He searched the crowd until he found me. “Gabriella, you must get out of sight. Are you mad?”
All eyes moved to me.
I nodded, no fight left in me, and turned to go.
Luca walked beside us, and I knew then that he’d been assigned guard duty. I glanced over my shoulder. Before the men closed ranks again, I saw Marcello turn and ride low and hard to the valley floor. To his brother.
Luca relayed to us what was coming down, as we remained well hidden behind ten rows of soldiers. “Marcello has dismounted. He’s talking to Paratore now.”
He frowned and watched for another few moments. Some of our men shouted and groaned.
“What? What’s happening?” I said.
“Paratore is turning, leaving.” He looked hard at me. “And they’re taking Fortino with them.” He pried his way through the men, apparently to find out more. In his agitation, he left us behind. I glanced at Mom and Lia, fighting the urge to claw my way to the front myself. “What’s happening?” I asked the tallest. “Can you see?”
“Sir Marcello returns,” he said distractedly.
“Why does he not call for the attack?” cried a man. They were anxious for vengeance, so soon after the capture of Castello Forelli and her surrounding lands. Many of them were farmers and shepherds on those hills, but in this moment, they were unified as knights. The men surged, moved as a group, chanting, shouting. “A morte Firenze!” Death to Firenze!
They quieted as Marcello drew near. “Men of Siena,” he called, “they have taken Lord Fortino Forelli prisoner, demanding a trade price that m’lord himself refused, regardless of his ill health.”
“What?” called a man.
“What did they want?” called another.
“Immediate surrender and retreat.”
The men cried out in complaint and then grumbled, the sound like a wave crashing and then washing over a shore.
“We shall battle them in hours,” he said, “and fight to win my brother Fortino’s freedom, as well as the land that belongs to us. Are you with me?”
The crowd shouted their assent, radiating the fury that had fueled men in battle since the dawn of time. Lips curled back, muscles rippled, weapons were raised. After a moment, they parted, and Marcello came through, followed by Luca, Pietro, and Giovanni. Marcello took my hand and continued to stride forward, down the hill to our tents. I ran to keep up with him.
“Marcello, I—”
He held up a hand to shush me. “Please, m’love. A moment.”
Mom, Lia, Luca, Pietro, Giovanni, and I followed him into his tent, which held nothing but a bedroll and a few clothing items, as well as some maps, open on a table. My mother and sister hovered by the flaps of the doorway, while the men moved to either side of Marcello, arms folded in front of their chests. We waited as Marcello paced back and forth, his eyes moving constantly. In the last twelve hours, he had lost his home and now perhaps his brother. He rubbed a hand through his hair and then squeezed the back of his neck, as if it might force the right plan to his mind.
“He’s not dead yet,” I said quietly. “Do not give up on him, Marcello.”
He frowned at me. “Do you not see? I must.” He paused and looked up to the top of the tent, his face awash in anguish. “If you could’ve seen him, Gabriella…” He put his hands over his mouth and took a deep breath, then turned to us. He stared at me for a moment, started to speak, and then abruptly shut his mouth.
“They wanted more than surrender and retreat,” I guessed. “They wanted us, too.”
“As expected,” he said, meeting my gaze, misery in his eyes. He looked to my mom and sister. “All three of you now.” Mom looked a little pale. “What’s worse is that Paratore has a very good idea you are here, now, with us. You must be away in all haste, for—”
“M’lord,” Luca said from the doorway. “Rider, coming hard.”
Marcello stepped up beside him and opened the other flap so that the scout could enter. The young man, little older than I, looked nervously around at us and then back to Marcello. “M’lord, there is word of three separate armies on the move toward Siena.”
“Three?” Marcello said. “From whence have they come?”
“Umbria, m’lord.”
“What does that mean?” I whispered to Giovanni. “How many men?”
“Fifteen hundred. Mayhap more.”
“And they shall arrive at Siena’s gates…” Marcello led.
“By sundown, on the morrow, m’lord.”
“She may be able to withstand such a force, but they’ll be looking to us to aid them,” Marcello said to Luca.
Luca nodded once.
“M’lord,” I said, my heart picking up its pace. “What if they don’t intend to try and breach Siena’s gates? What if they arrive as a fearsome show of force, merely to push the Sienese into surrender?”
The men frowned at me, not understanding.
“What if,” I went on, “word has not reached Siena about the Rossis’ treachery? What if…Lord Rossi, Romana, are calling the Nine together, even now? To see through what we would not? Betraying the Council of Nine. Murdering all but one.”
Marcello searched the ground, thinking it through. It had been days since Lia had arrived with word, but the focus had been on turning the tide of the Fiorentini armies back from the border, defending the castles. Giovanni had not been certain that word had
reached Siena…only Fortino.
“Send two scouts,” he said to Luca at last. “Our fastest riders. To warn the Nine. And tell them that we will be there on the morrow.” His tone was firm, furious, but his eyes held fear.
And that scared me more than anything.
CHAPTER 30
At sunset, I found Marcello on a hill above camp, looking toward Castello Forelli. I slipped my arms around his waist and leaned my head against his back, between his shoulder blades. “I am sorry, my love. For all you have endured this day.” Would Fortino even survive another night of captivity, as ill as Marcello had described?
He remained quiet but placed his hands over mine.
“I am thankful that you were spared,” he said, turning to face me. “That you’re here, with me.” He leaned his forehead down to touch mine and pulled me closer, eyes closed. “If only we did not so soon have to part…” We stood there a moment, sharing the grief, the fear.
“I wish I could ease your pain. After we lost my father…” My voice broke, and I took a halting breath. “I’m here. Ready to love you. Support you. Come what may.”
He pulled back a little, his eyes pools of torture. “Only one thing would ease the pain in my heart this night.”
“What? Anything. Anything.”
“To do what I have longed to do—claim you as my own. Thoughts of losing you, when I’ve as much as lost Fortino…” He closed his eyes in anguish, turned, and knelt before me. “Gabriella Betarrini, please honor me by becoming my bride.”
“Marcello,” I sputtered, searching for the words. “We are to part within hours.”
He remained on his knees, staring up at me.
“Do you not see?” I said. “If I promise you forever, then my mother and sister must remain here forever too.”
“I shall make a home for you all,” he said, rising and taking my cheek in his warm hand. I closed my eyes against the glory of him. Even displaced, frightened, grieving, he was a force. A man. I had trouble breathing. “Somehow. Somewhere I will take care of all of you. Do you not trust me?”
“’Tis not a matter of trust,” I said softly. “’Tis a matter of choice. If it were only me, I’d say yes this very moment. But for my family…You must understand, we would be leaving much behind.”
“But welcoming much here,” he said. “True?”
“True,” I said mournfully. I sighed and stared back up at him, helpless. “Forgive me, Marcello. But I cannot accept your offer of marriage.” Were these words really coming out of my mouth? And yet I could not stop them—I knew they were the right words. “Not yet,” I continued. “Not until Lia and my mother agree to remain.”
He gave me a tiny nod. “I understand, Gabriella,” he said. Then he bent and set a tender, soft, lingering kiss upon my lips, as if he was saying good-bye. Forever. Tears rolled down my cheeks again as I struggled to understand what was happening.
He dropped my hands, then turned and walked down the hill alone, pain radiating from the defeated curve of his shoulders.
With each step he took, I felt a tiny bit of me die too. I’ve made a mistake. This is wrong! It took everything in me to remain where I was, to not go tearing after him to agree to his proposal and wake up in the morning as his bride.
But I’d be waking up alone for days to come, with him off to battle. My sister and mom stuck here whether they liked it or not. I couldn’t do it.
Not yet.
At sunup, I watched as Marcello clasped arms with Luca. Then he called out orders to all men to pack up and be ready in fifteen minutes’ time, with three days’ supplies on their backs. “And see to it that you pack both bread and dried meat with you, if you have not yet,” he shouted. “A hungry man is a dead man.”
They cleared out, fast. But I remained, waiting for him to see me, face me.
At last his eyes settled on me. They moved from sorrow to determination. He stepped forward and took my hands. “Gabriella, you must promise me.”
“What, love?”
“As soon as you are ready, my six most trusted men shall escort you and your family southward, beyond the reach of any man loyal to Firenze. I have a friend—”
“Nay.” I squeezed his hands. “Take us with you. We will help you fight, help you galvanize the Sienese in case—”
“Think about it, Gabriella. For every man you take down, four more will be bent on reaching you, capturing you, or worse. You said it yourself. You are bait to the bear. And my men will feel they must defend you, rather than press forward. I will feel that way.”
I opened my mouth to argue but then decided I had to agree with him. We would be more of a distraction than an asset. I took a step away and put a hand to my face. I hated having him leave, like this, with so much yet to be resolved between us. “How long? Until we might be reunited?”
He shook his head. “Our men weary of the battle, as do those of Firenze. With the outposts gone, the attention has turned to Siena herself. If we were in time to warn the Nine…” He took a deep breath. “The tide turns this week, one way or the other. We cannot stay at this impasse for much longer.”
“So then, you shall come and retrieve us when it is done?”
He nodded. “As soon as I see their backs, I will come for you.” He stepped forward and took my hands. “Promise me you will stay with Luca and the others.”
“I promise.” The last thing the guy needed was to worry about me. I wanted him to come back alive. And to do that, he’d need to be focused, able to concentrate.
I lifted my face to his, and he gave me a soft, fleeting kiss. “Until the day of our reunion, Gabriella.”
“Until that day,” I returned. “Come back to me, Marcello Forelli.”
“I shall do my best.” He backed away slowly, as if reluctant to leave me. “Wait on Luca and the others to escort you,” he emphasized, narrowing his eyes. “Go nowhere without their escort, do you understand? Keep Luca with you at all times.”
I nodded, not particularly fond of his bossy demands, or that he was going into battle without his best men beside him, but knowing it had to go his way. He loved me. And since I had to go and fall for a full-on knight—possibly the future Lord Forelli if Fortino didn’t survive his injuries—I had to bend a little toward the whole lady-to-be-protected thing. At least for now.
And this parting was so much better than last night’s, I was ready to accept pretty much anything. Just bring us back together, God. Give us a chance.
I waited there, and Mom and Lia joined me. We followed behind the knights as they moved to the horses, where hundreds of men on foot waited. Marcello turned, took my face between both his hands and kissed me swiftly but soundly.
The men laughed and shouted their approval.
Then he was atop his gelding, riding before the mounted men, shouting instructions for what was to come. Laying out their goals—to intercept the new forces, before those men reached Siena’s city gates. “We take down those men,” he said, his horse prancing beneath him, “and Paratore’s forces too, away from our home. Once we destroy them, we will find my brother and free him. Then we shall return for our own. Mark my words. Be it this week or this year, Castello Forelli shall return to us. And she shall be rebuilt, stronger than ever before.”
The men cheered.
“For Lord Fortino Forelli!” he shouted, lifting his sword to the sky.
“Lord Forelli!” shouted the men in response.
“For Siena!” Marcello cried.
“For Siena!” the men thundered.
“May God Himself watch over us. Come, men. Let us be about it.”
With one last, lingering glance toward me, Marcello turned and moved down the hill at a pace that would not leave the men on foot in the dust nor alert Paratore’s scouts that they were departing. They’d left the tents as we’d
found them, with several bonfires blazing.
Luca and I lingered, watching. I glanced over at him, sensing his hesitation. “What is it?” I said. “Hate to miss a battle?”
“Indeed,” he said, flashing me a smile. But I couldn’t miss that it was somewhat subdued.
“You never know,” I said, nudging him with my hip. “You said yourself that the Ladies Betarrini tend to draw action.”
“There is that,” he said, his smile widening.
I walked ahead of him and then glanced back when he fell behind again, his brow knit in puzzlement, as if he was trying to figure something out. We entered camp and sat down next to Lia in a corner, slightly away from the other five men who were to accompany us south: Pietro, Giovanni, and three others I didn’t know very well—Valente, Alonzo, and Santino. We dug into bowls of bland porridge in rich cream.
“Think they could ever go Atkins on us?” Lia asked in a whisper.
I giggled. “They enjoy their meat, but they’d wither and die without their carbs,” I returned.
“So would I, really,” she said. “Not that I would miss this slop. But Cook’s pasta? Mm, yeah.”
I nodded and shoved another biteful in my mouth. It wasn’t great, but at least it’d stave off the hunger thing for a while.
“You okay?” Lia asked. “I mean, without Marcello and all.”
“As okay as I can be,” I said. “It’s kind of like a piece of me has been torn from my body, you know?”
She nodded, looking at me with understanding eyes. “You ready? I mean, really ready? To stay here forever? What if this was our life, day in and day out? Always in the middle of a battle. Fighting for our lives—or those we love.”
Mom sat down beside us, bowl in hand.
I looked at them both and shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of think this fighting might settle down a bit, in time. And really, isn’t it better than flopping down in front of a TV and watching someone else’s story? I feel more…alive here, now, than I ever did at home.”
Mom was staring at her porridge. “So you’d leave everything you had ahead of you? College? A career? Your friends?”
The River of Time Series Page 57
