“The villagers knew the man to be a tyrant. They knew I acted only because I had no other choice.”
“And did you?”
He repositioned his stick in the water. It was getting lighter out. I could make out more of his face as he looked at me. “I could have given up my own life. But I did not,” he said, with just a tinge of shame, dropping his gaze.
So that was what he had meant, about us being more harsh with ourselves than others. He’d wrestled with his own guilt.
“The woman…was she grateful?”
“Nay,” he said. “She cursed me.” He shrugged. “She no longer had a man. Someone to put a roof over her head, bring her food as well as a beating.”
I paused, trying to absorb such an idea. He saved her, and she cursed him for it? But I remembered Signora Giannini, battling to make it without her husband. He was no abuser, but it was hard in these times to make it alone. Especially as a woman. I thought of the old woman outside of Firenze who’d saved me and Lia. It was the same thing with her, scraping by, watching the crop rot on the vines.
“I’ve run over the memory, time and time again. But trust me, Gabriella, when I say to let it go, move on. Endeavor to make a better choice next time if you can, especially if you made a choice in error. And if you didn’t…” He shrugged again. “If God confirms you’re in the right, embrace it. Let it change you and the course of your stream. Your future.”
He rose and, with surprisingly light steps over the largest of the stones, crossed toward the men and horses. I saw that Rodolfo was up, stretching, and I quickly looked back to the water. I watched where the water wound around stones and reconnected below. That was what Tomas was talking about. The stream as life.
Had I made a decision that would forever divide me from Marcello? Or was it merely a stone in the river, a temporary obstacle, something to get past?
After taking a drink, I forced myself to rise and join the Fiorentini. If Marcello and his men hadn’t overtaken us in the night, I doubted they would. Clearly they’d headed north toward Firenze, as expected. Why would they suspect that we would head south?
“Did you manage to sleep?” Rodolfo asked as I neared, cocking his head in an endearingly caring and attentive manner.
“For a few hours,” I said. I gave him a small smile. After all, the kiss wasn’t entirely his fault, and I’d all but ignored him all afternoon and evening yesterday. “’Tis better than none at all.”
“Indeed.” He bent, took a loaf of crusty bread from his sack, and offered me half. We stood together, choking down dry pieces for several minutes as the men removed saddles—left on in the night in case we had to flee—rubbed down the horses’ flanks and then replaced them.
“No freedom for long for them,” I said. I bit my cheek, knowing he’d probably think I was referring to myself too.
Maybe I was.
“Gabriella,” he said quietly, tossing the rest of his loaf to the brush and facing me. He wiped his lush lips with the back of his hand and finished chewing. “Forgive me for yesterday.”
I looked over his shoulder. The nearest man was more than twenty feet from us. “’Twas as much my fault as your own,” I said. “You did what you had to.” You know, to continue this charade. At least I hoped that was what it had been. That it’d all been in my head—
He searched my eyes and then looked away, to the rising sun, then back to me, searching my face. My heart was pounding. What is wrong with me?
“I’ve tried to forget it. Getting to know you, the first time. Coming to see why Marcello admired you so. But I fail, every time. I know your heart belongs to him, my brother. And I barely slept this past night, given my self-recriminations.”
But might there not be a spot in your heart for me, too? his big, brown eyes silently asked me. So it was as I feared; there was something real, something living, growing between us, tying us together. It hadn’t all been a show for him, as it hadn’t been for me. I had to end it. Cut from this direction of the river. Fast.
“I am meant for one man, Rodolfo,” I whispered. “And that is Marcello.”
The men were looking our way, then sharing raised eyebrows and smiles, thinking it was yet another romantic moment. It was good they thought that. It would help us keep up appearances a while longer.
“I mistreated you while you were in my care last,” he said with a sigh, as if that explained my allegiance.
“Nay. I know that you did what you had to do, to preserve your role. Had you not, had they figured it out…Rodolfo, I wouldn’t be standing here today. I owe you my life, several times over.”
He was still for a moment, considering my words, and then he nodded, kicking his toe into the loose dirt as if he was trying to kick free the stone in the ground. “Since he has not yet arrived, I assume Marcello is a good bit behind us.”
“As do I,” I admitted.
“Do you have it within you?” he asked, leaning closer to my ear. “To continue this farce, even straight to an altar? We shall need every hour we can give him. And our companions…Gabriella, they have one goal.”
I looked at him until he met my eyes. “As far as an altar. But no vows,” I whispered fiercely. “I shall never exchange vows with anyone other than Marcello.” It felt good to take a stand for what I knew was right, true. But there was a breath of tearing, too. A moment of thinking, I can’t believe I’m turning this guy down. I didn’t like it. It shamed me, acknowledging it. But there it was.
He blinked his long lashes, then nodded. “I shall see you to freedom before that. Now we will straighten and you shall allow me to embrace you. As if you are falling for my charms. As many other women in Firenze have.”
I didn’t doubt it. He was reminding me that he was Mr. Hot-o-rama when I didn’t need the reminder. But I’d probably hurt his pride. So I did as he’d instructed.
He straightened, gave me a lingering smile, and touched my chin with the knuckle of his forefinger, looking into my eyes. After a breath he gently placed his hands on either side of my face, then closed his eyes and kissed my forehead. Then he pulled me into a warm embrace, so warm, that I felt the chill of the morning anew when he released me.
When he offered his arm, I took it, allowing him to lead me to my mare.
He was a good man. A fine man.
Almost as good as Marcello. But he was not Marcello.
Not him, I reminded myself sternly.
CHAPTER 11
We rode into Roma the following day, and I had a hard time getting my bearings. More of the ancient Roman wall was still standing, and of course, most of the buildings weren’t anything like what survived into modern times. Many of the hills were covered by rubble, and grass and trees were making serious headway in reclaiming the earth as its own. Most of the commerce and people seemed to be centered near the Forum and Coliseum.
“You have been to Roma before?” Rodolfo asked me, studying my face.
“It’s been some time,” I returned. Like, almost seven hundred years.
“She is not as she once was,” he said. “Since the papacy was moved, really.”
The pope, not in Rome? Vaguely, I remembered that the popes had resided in France for a time. We’d visited the sprawling Palais des Papes in Avignon when I was about ten. Was it during these years that the Church had considered France safer than Italy? At the time we visited Avignon, I had a hard time getting a grip on the fact that they feared for their lives. Having been here, now, I got it.
Lord Barbato neared us on his high-stepping mount. “We shall go directly to Palazzo Vivaro,” he said. “All is prepared.”
Rodolfo nodded, and the nobleman moved on ahead of us.
I didn’t know what I was thinking. Had I really thought we’d settle in, spend a few days, hit a couple of parties, do some sightseeing, and then get to this marriage busi
ness? But all at once, I realized that they intended for this marriage to happen right away.
Tonight.
I looked to Rodolfo. “Might we convince them to wait until the morrow?” I whispered. The knight in front of me glanced back; he’d obviously heard.
“Come now, beloved,” Rodolfo pretended to chide me gently, having noted the knight’s attention too. “There is no need to hesitate. You shall find I am the most gentle of husbands.”
The knight in front of me chuckled. Okay, whatever. Pretend that is the reason; that I’m afraid of my wedding night. “It is only that I wished to have my parents with me when I exchanged my vows,” I said.
“Unfortunately that is impossible,” Rodolfo said sadly. “When all is complete, mayhap your parents can come and visit us in Firenze. They are welcome anytime, Gabriella. Your family shall be my family.”
I looked into his eyes. He seemed to be reassuring me. Telling me he was that trustworthy—like family. Or was he suggesting something else?
I was so confused. So. Confused.
“Very well, m’lord,” I said quietly. The other knight in front of us turned back to look at me. He was probably wondering where my fight had gone. I hardly sounded like a She-Wolf.
We wound through several small neighborhoods, past herds of goats and sheep, until I finally saw something I recognized—the old Roman Forum. Although a few of the structures had been placed upright again, no reparations had been made. Only the massive, triumphal arches on either end—and a few remnants of the old temples—remained vertical. Brush and trees and long, dry grasses grew among the white stone columns and capitals. A barber had set up shop under one of the arches, now half as tall as I knew it truly was, so deep was the dirt and brush. I gawked at it as we rode past. And I got a pang in my chest, remembering Dad’s “I Left My Heart in Roma Antica” shirt. He’d bought it, just over there.… Dad, Mom, Lia, where are you?
“You enjoy the old relics?” Rodolfo asked, squinting at me as if he were trying to figure out my fascination.
I shifted, startled by his interruption in my reverie. “I do.”
“Mayhap we can walk down here on the morrow,” he said. “We shall spend our first night together there.” He nodded upward, and I forced myself to not look so surprised at his words—our first night together—in case the nosy knights were again paying too close attention.
He’s playing the part, I told myself. Only playing a part.
But the light in his dark eyes unnerved me. I could trust him, right? He wasn’t just playing me? Herding me into a corner I could not escape? Thinking he could convince me that I had feelings for him once I was, you know, his wife?
My eyes drifted to where he pointed, above the old marketplace, in the direction of the Coliseum, not yet visible. A sprawling, white stone palace had been erected, with an elaborate portico bordered by massive urns on the western edge, facing the Forum, just to one side of Trajan’s Market. We’d have a view of all of it, and from the other side of the palazzo, I wagered we’d glimpse the Coliseum, too. Long, dark green flags drifted in the wind—the nobleman’s colors?
“Lord Vivaro has tapped into what remains of the old Roman aqueduct,” Rodolfo said, nodding toward the fountain on one end of the portico. “Some have told me that he even has rebuilt something that echoes of the ancient bathhouses, with a caldarium and frigidarium.”
I shivered at the thought of a cold bath on a winter’s day. And then I shivered a second time at the thought of being trapped up there in the palazzo. Now that we were in the city, I’d look for an opportunity to escape, but I needed a distraction, something that would give me a ten- or twenty-minute lead. Anything less than that, and I’d likely be recaptured and hauled back. I scoured my mind for memories of places in Roma I could count on to be here now. The remains of the old Roman palaces on the Palatine, and the Pantheon…The Etruscan ruins were south—in the opposite direction of where I wished to go—and yet there was little to the north.
Outside the city were the old catacombs. I might be able to make it there and hide through the night. I thought they might be somewhat in the right direction, if I wanted to get back to Siena. But I shuddered at the thought of spending the night among the old limestone tombs with countless skeletons still on their shallow beds. The thought of it had once made me giggle in excitement, exploring with Lia a few years ago; now it made me Seriously Freak Out.
Okay, so the catacombs were a last resort. Hopefully I could make my way to the palazzo stables, swipe a fresh mount, and put some serious miles between me and the Bad Boys—with luck, maybe even before they realized I was gone.
I still had the dagger strapped to my calf. If all this came down and I had to give it up, I’d be super frustrated. But so far, it would have been much worse to pull it out. It was like having an old Colt revolver in a sea of enemies armed with Uzis. It’d only work in just the right place at just the right time.
But if I got all the way to the crowded palazzo, would it just become five times more difficult to escape? Or might I find an opening as I was being prepared for my evening nuptials with one or two servants? I remembered well the day in Rodolfo’s palazzo, when a score of maids were sent to bathe, scrub, and decorate me like a refurbished Christmas tree. If that many were with me this time…
My panic mounted as we entered a side street and began climbing the hill. I knew Lord Vivaro’s palazzo wasn’t far, given the increased amount of traffic. It was obvious that our host was vastly wealthy, and a great deal of commerce was rolling through. Trains of mules passed us, some with empty packs, others with new loads. I kept gazing at side streets, wondering if this was my last opportunity or that was…but I’d have to cut my reins, so thoroughly were they tied to Rodolfo’s, and then what was I to do? Ride sidesaddle without reins? Impossible.
“Do not look so frightened,” Rodolfo said, so quietly I almost missed it. I turned to him. Was I that obvious? “All will be well, m’lady,” he said, reaching for my hand.
I placed my sweaty hand in his, and he squeezed it, looking into my eyes. “At this time on the morrow, you will feel much different,” he said.
I’d told him I could make it as far as the altar, but not the vows. He was remembering that, right?
After one more bend in the road, the grand Palazzo Vivaro came into full view. Across the street a massive complex, a block wide, had been set up. Probably Vivaro’s own little city of industry. Cloth in many different colors covered stalls, but not in the manner of the simple merchants of Siena. These were taller, wider stalls and offered far more exotic goods. Rodolfo followed my gaze. “Fabric from the Orient, tapestries from Denmark, spices from Africa, gold, silver—whatever you might wish for, Lord Vivaro can obtain it for you in Roma.”
I nodded, impressed. Lord Vivaro came out of the merchant complex, catching sight of us. He was of medium build, with a massive beard, a playful turban, and merchant’s robe. I knew it was him from the way everyone treated him with deference, how he was swarmed and had to cut away, ignoring his posse, to reach us. “He enjoys playing the role of the exotic merchant,” Rodolfo said with a smile, leaning toward me. “But he was born here in Roma.”
Our host threw his arms out so broadly, with such a wide smile, that I had no choice but to grant him a small smile in return. “And so! You’ve brought us our Vestal Virgin, the greatest prize of all,” he said—to Lord Greco? Lord Barbato? It was impossible to tell as he covered me in a look of pure admiration.
“A She-Wolf of Siena was the best we could do,” Lord Barbato said flatly.
“Ah, m’lady,” Lord Vivaro said, “you are as fine as the stories have told. You honor me by being here.” He took my hand without asking, bent, and kissed my knuckles, staring at me the whole time. When he straightened, he kept my hand in his. “If only the other half of the matched set had been delivered with her…”
Lia. I pulled my hand from his, but he only smiled up at me, unperturbed.
The noblemen of Firenze had dismounted, and Rodolfo politely waited until Lord Vivaro stepped aside, so he could assist me down to the ground. When my feet reached the dirt road, Lord Vivaro smiled and clasped his hands together before him. “A most handsome couple,” he said.
“Enough, Vivaro,” Lord Barbato said in agitation. “We assume the chapel has been prepared? The guests await us?”
I looked at him in surprise. I shifted in panic but then felt the low, steady pressure of Rodolfo’s hand on my lower hip, holding me in place.
“Nay!” cried Vivaro with a playful frown. “Nay, nay, nay. This is to be my finest hour, as host to the union between Lord Greco and Lady Betarrini!” He threw a hand into the air. “If you wished them married so quickly, you could’ve had your own priest perform the ceremony.” He flicked a hand toward Father Tomas in the rear of our entourage.
Barbato leaned toward him and said, “You know we need the proper people here to witness it.”
“And they shall be here, in but three hours’ time,” Vivaro said with a cat-like smile. “Imagine it…just as the sun sets across the Forum, these two shall become one.” He clasped his hands together to his chest, as girly as a middle-school cheerleader with her first crush.
“Three hours?” groused Lord Greco, as if he were as agitated as Barbato at the wait.
“Come now, m’lord,” said Vivaro, taking my arm and ushering us up the palazzo’s front steps, while speaking past my shoulders to Rodolfo. “I had no idea at what hour you would arrive. Is this not perfect? Just enough time to bathe, don new clothing—my gift, with which I hope you will be most pleased, my darling,” he said to me, before returning his gaze to Rodolfo,“—and meet your bride upon my portico. It shall be most ideal. They shall talk of it for ages.”
“And if the Sienese come?” Lord Barbato said tiredly, pinching his nose. “Even now, they are likely on their way.”
The River of Time Series Page 73
