“What happened to you, m’lady?” she whispered, as we traded gowns.
“’Tis better for you if you do not know. All you shall say, if you are discovered, is that you were paid handsomely for your old dress. No one shall blame you for accepting such an offer.”
She smiled, curiosity alive in her eyes, as she turned and slipped on the toga, while I did the same with her gown, nearly gagging at the scent of BO. I concentrated on breathing through my mouth, not my nose. Not that she’s getting a precious, laundry-fresh dress, herself…She’d have to burn it when she got home. With four gold coins she could purchase five new dresses and still have a total stash left over.
While she buttoned me up, I wound my hair into a knot and took the carved pins she offered me. When I turned back around, I smiled at the sight of her hair down around her shoulders. “Frightfully similar,” I said.
“It’s an honor to resemble Lady Betarrini,” she guessed in a whisper.
“Remember,” I said, shaking my head in warning, but smiling a little, “I never said so. And we were gone before you could sound an alarm.”
“Like poof! Phantoms, or wolves,” she said with another smile.
“Come,” Marcello said, reaching through for my arm. “We must be on our way.” He nodded to our friend and the merchant, and we left the store. It was then I noticed the neatly wrapped package beneath his arm. With my hand on his as we paraded down the street, we appeared the average Roman merchant and lady, returning home after a market stop. I froze as I saw a patrol of twelve Roman knights cantering around the corner ahead of us, but Marcello urged me on. “Continue to walk, Gabriella,” he said lowly, smiling and leaning closer to kiss my temple. “We belong here. I am staring at you, showing the world how in love with you I am,” he coached. “And you are watching the guards approach with interest, as if there’s nothing to hide.…”
I dragged my eyes from the cobblestones at my feet.
“Interesting, the commotion,” he whispered, as the knights neared, “first the bells, now the soldiers, searching.” He looked up with me then, to watch as the knights rode by, checking us out, then dismissing us, exactly as he had planned.
“Next time I get to be the girl in love, too distracted to watch,” I complained.
He laughed, and we picked up our pace. After we passed two more streets, we turned left and then directly right, into an alley that stank of manure. The stables must be ahead.
We emerged on the small square, with feeding and watering troughs on either end, and I saw that my parents, Lia, Luca, and Tomas were all mounted. “Up you go,” Marcello said, lifting me to my mount and handing me the reins as I slipped my feet into the stirrups. The saddle had a scabbard, and I slid my sword into it, hiding it quickly under my skirts as the stable master came outside. He was chewing on a loaf of bread, watching us go.
“For your silence,” Marcello said, flipping a coin into the air toward him.
He caught it, eyed Marcello, and smiled a close-lipped smile.
CHAPTER 19
“All we must do is make it to the city walls,” Marcello said, leading our line out.
No problem, I thought. The city walls were still a mile or two distant, and now other bells were ringing. How long until word reached every citizen that we had escaped? Lord Vivaro had to be as mad as the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland, and Lord Barbato…well, I could seriously see him mouthing the words heads will roll, at that very instant.
Yeah, good luck, losers. In the company of my homies, I’d wager my chances any day. Even with Dad—so new to this time and their rough ways—and Father Tomas, weak from blood loss, together, we were strong.
And it was different from escaping Firenze that fateful night; most of Roma’s citizens took idle interest in us but really didn’t care one way or another if we lived or died. And they wouldn’t likely risk their own necks to capture us—we were Firenze’s enemies, not theirs.
Unless word of a reward spread. I sighed. If there was one thing Lords Barbato and Vivaro had, it was a seemingly endless supply of money. To throw lavish parties. Rebuild Roman baths. Hire mercenaries. And, surely, offer rewards. Lord Barbato knew he could ill afford our escape from Roma. Once we were gone, we’d be ten times as difficult to capture. And his dreams about making me the conquered bride of Firenze? Yeah, that was already down the drain.
But he’d have a better chance of killing us than capturing us. After what I’d been through, there was no way they were taking me alive again. And I guessed my family and friends felt the same way. What was better? To fight to the death? Or to be put to the stake after all kinds of humiliation or torture?
Death, every time. Not that I was up for the whole dying thing. I wanted to live. I’d be willing to fight to the death in order to live—in freedom, with Marcello, with my family. I suddenly understood all the campaign talk from home, of fighting for what you believed in, fighting for rights, fighting for freedom, fighting, paradoxically, for peace.
Peace sounded like a delicious dream to me right then, sucking me inward, backward, toward the utter weariness at my core. We were drawing long looks from those still on the street, our band of men and women, so many of us in matching robes and capes, stolen from the lords of Roma. But we ignored them, trotting down one street and then the next. Marcello paused up ahead, circled his horse, and silently waved us back. We turned and all made it into an alley before a Roman patrol of a couple dozen men passed. Marcello dismounted and sneaked to the corner to find out what they were up to; he returned and reported they were pausing to speak to those on the streets, asking questions. Looking for us. Trying to pick up our trail.
“Must make haste, now,” he said under his breath. It’d only be minutes—maybe even seconds—before they crossed one of the streets from which we’d come, and someone tipped them off, told them we’d been seen.
We rode at a fast clip, under a raised, crumbling aqueduct and past the countless brick arches of Emperor Caracalla’s old public bathhouse. Almost there, I thought, knowing the wall wasn’t far. The knights of Roma would not pursue us beyond the wall, and Lord Barbato’s and Vivaro’s mercenaries made up only a fraction of their number. If we could make the wall, we’d break from most of the men who hunted us.
We turned the corner, glimpsed the repaired wall that marked the main entrance to the eternal city, had just taken a breath of hope, glory, when I saw them.
Men closing ranks, on horseback, fifty strong. Blocking our exit. Preparing to hunt us down. But they still hadn’t seen us.
“This way,” Marcello growled. We followed him into Caracalla’s old structure—once a sprawling, public bathhouse that could handle a thousand customers at once—ducking under lower doorways, marveling at the massive rooms they led to. When we were into the third room, Marcello turned to Luca and lifted his chin. “Take Lia with you. I’ll take Gabriella. We’ll leave two horses here and make the Romans think we’re here somewhere, so they’ll scour every rabbit hole in the place.”
I slid over to his mount and wrapped an arm around his waist. He reached for my sword from the saddle of my horse. “You may need this,” he said grimly.
Our freed mounts whinnied and hurried into the next room, which was roofless. The floor bloomed with winter grass, and they waded into it like they’d found a field all their own. We rushed on, hit a dead end, and doubled back, then moved to a new segment of the old bathhouse’s ruins. The complex was massive, one of Roma’s hot spots back in the Empire’s heyday. But as Marcello turned one corner and then the next, I felt like we were going in circles. We’d left the central structure with its towering hundred-foot walls and entered a complex maze to one side.
Then, all at once, we were out, and I took a deep breath, glimpsing stars just beginning to glitter overhead. Marcello abruptly turned and waited for the rest of our party to catch up, then led us back into the bathhouse. “Scouts
,” he grunted as explanation.
We walked down another massive, crumbling hallway, and I grimaced at the sound of horse hooves against the mosaic tiles, imagining the sound echoing down to those who now ran through these old halls, swords in hands, shouting, Hey, they’re over here!
My eyes went down every dark passageway, and I squinted, trying to see if there was an enemy coming our way. A couple times, squatters, Roma’s homeless, rose, making me catch my breath—once an old man, then an entire family. But they only stood to see who we were, what we were up to, alarmed by our after-dark intrusion.
We paused and then dipped down through a trough where a column must have fallen and been removed, and then another. I looked back, trying to see the three horses behind Luca and Lia, but it was getting too dark. Stay with us, Mom and Dad! I wanted to call.
Marcello abruptly stopped and stayed deadly still, staring to our left, just past the wall, beyond where I could see. From what I could see, we’d emerged a third of the way back, on the city wall side of the complex. How’d he get us here through that maze? I wondered in admiration. Maybe he’d played here as a child.
Satisfied, or maybe seeing some knights move away, he edged forward, peeking left. “You look to our right,” he said quietly.
I did as he asked, staring so hard down the dark road that I began to see things in the dark. Over and over he paused when I tensed. Over and over I said, “Non c’importa.” It’s nothing. When the rest of our party was out of the bathhouse complex, we moved down the road to our left, the city wall on our right side. We were heading toward Circus Maximus and the next gate, still a quarter mile distant. We rode hard, half-expecting troops to come after us. But after another couple minutes I dared to believe that Marcello had done it—that he’d fooled them into thinking that we were still inside the complex, hiding away.
He unexpectedly veered left and rode into the old arena, where the road began to slope down and we could clearly see a scary, dual-towered, double-walled gate, opening and closing. We were still in shadow so we were certain they could not see us. There were four knights along the wall at the top of the gate, two on each round tower and four on the ground. “These gates are never guarded,” Marcello muttered to Luca, pulling our horse to a stop and waving at the knights in disgust. “They search for us.”
“We could ride until we find a portion of the wall that’s fallen down,” Luca said.
“I don’t remember many such sections on this side of the city, do you?”
Luca thought about it a moment and then shook his head. “On the other side, it’s mostly down. This side?”
His eyes said notsomuch.
“We must be away,” Marcello said grimly, as the others pulled in closer. “If we are discovered—we’ll have more than we can handle. Here,” he said, gesturing toward the gate again, “we know the number we must battle. Are you willing?”
He eyed them all, and in the dark we could see their bobbing heads. “Gabriella?” he asked over his shoulder.
In answer I dropped to the ground beside his horse, as Lia had done from Luca’s. “Go, m’lord. I shall follow.” He’d be twice as effective if I wasn’t on the horse with him. And Lia needed more room to wield her bow and arrow.
“How many can you take down?” I asked her.
“Two, before they know we’re here,” she said, eying the towers. Two riders had come in, hard, from the direction of the bathhouses, paused, then moved on, apparently gathering reports.
“That’ll leave ten,” Mom said.
“And I’ll have time to take down two more, once they know we’re approaching,” Lia added.
“Which leaves eight,” Dad said.
“It’s as good as done, then,” Luca said with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Shall we?”
Marcello moved ahead, watched for a moment, and then waved us onward. Lia and I crept forward, through knee-high grass, bent over. On foot we wanted to be farther ahead. The horses would pass us when they saw the first two guards fall, then they would hold the gates until we were through.
We were a hundred yards away, then fifty. The knights appeared to be watching for horses on the road, to their left and right, rather than anyone in the grass before them. It looked funny to see guards facing the city rather than any who might be approaching from beyond—guarding the exit more than the entrance. Lia licked her finger and lifted it, testing for breezes. “They’d kill us if they had the chance, right?” she asked, aiming at the first one.
“Without a second’s hesitation,” I said, knowing well why she hesitated. “It’s us or them. And if we don’t get out of here fast, it’s likely to be us.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” she said, letting the first arrow fly and, without stopping, drawing another and releasing it. We rose and ran toward the gate, yelling like banshees. The men, startled, looked scared, and then, as we entered the farthest reaches of their torchlight, about thirty yards away, they laughed and pointed, thinking it was merely two crazy women. No Roman man in his right mind would ever admit to fear of a woman, be they She-Wolves or not.…
Three strode toward us, grinning in anticipation.
But their smiles faded as Lia bent to aim again and I kept coming, just as the four on horseback came charging past me. Four.
It gradually registered with me that one was missing. Where is Tomas? I paused just as I met the first knight, who had dodged Luca’s strike. He kept coming toward me. Distracted, I belatedly raised my sword just in time to meet his, and then turned to bring my sword around in an arcing strike; I put everything I had into it. He deflected it easily and advanced on me.
I frowned in surprise. I must be more tired than I thought. It’d been a few days since I’d slept, really slept…since before Sansicino. And now, at the very worst time, I was feeling it.
I met his strike, ducked another, deflected the last.
And then Dad was there. “I’ve got this,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go, Gabi.”
Dad. My dad. Saving me. I took a few steps back, sword dragging along the ground, suddenly weighing a thousand pounds, and I panted, wondering at what exactly had transpired. In the last two weeks we’d gone back in time, saved my father before he died, brought him back nearly seven hundred years, and now he was saving me. It was enough to make my head burst.
I glanced back. Father Tomas neared, but only because his horse was following us. Somewhat. He got close enough, and I could see he was slumped over in the saddle, unconscious. I forced myself to run toward him, took the reins from his slack hands, pulled his boot from the nearest stirrup and mounted behind him. I looked over his shoulder and quickly felt for a pulse.
Alive, he’s alive, Lord. Help me save him. Save us all.
I saw that Marcello had opened the gate, while Mom, Dad, Luca, and Lia still battled the last four knights. I glanced right and saw a patrol of Roman guards charging down the road toward us. I kicked Father Tomas’s gelding with my heels and held on to him, knowing that to do so meant I couldn’t defend us on the way through. It was either Father Tomas or the sword. And we’d never be this far if it wasn’t for the priest. I wasn’t leaving him behind.
Marcello saw me coming and opened the gate wider.
I pulled right, narrowly missing Luca as he took a blow and took several staggering steps backward. I then tugged left, just missing getting hit by Mom’s staff as I passed. And then I was passing Marcello. “Patrol, approaching fast!” I cried, pushing through.
I steeled myself for the strike of an arrow in my back and did not pause until I was out of the reach of any torchlight. Only then, when I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, did I pull our galloping horse to a stop and wheel him around. The gates were still partially open, and in that span of about four feet, I could see glimpses of my loved ones still battling their attackers. I saw Marcello’s guy go
down, saw Marcello leap over the body and then disappear.
Come on. Come on! That patrol had to be almost on top of them by now. They hadn’t been that far away. Come on!
I willed them to come through the gates.
Please, Lord, please, help them. Release them. Free them!
Lia emerged first, running with a limp, her right hand on her left shoulder. Luca charged through behind her, on his horse. He shouted to her, and she turned and lifted her right arm. Never pausing, he grabbed it, and she swung through the air in a crazy arc, landing squarely on the back of his horse. He continued to push the horse forward, toward me, toward the safety of the darkness. But I was looking past him, waiting for Mom, Dad.
And Marcello.
I slid from my horse’s back.
I could hear the roar of men’s cries. The patrol. My eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t breathe. I was in full-blown panic. But I could not stop myself. I had no resources, no walls left. I let out a sob and ran past Luca and Lia. I had to go to them. Help them. Save them.
“M’lady!” Luca cried. I heard his grunt as he jumped from his horse before they’d come to a full stop. But I did not turn.
“M’lady!”
“Gabi! No! Stop!” Lia cried.
But I could see them now, my parents, Marcello, in a small circle, each meeting strike after strike, through the four-foot gap of the gate. I had to get to them. Help them.
I found my momentum, my last bit of strength, truly in a wolflike fury at seeing my loved ones in such danger. There is no way…No…Way…
Luca tackled me, then. We rolled in the soft, sandy, dried grass, over and over before we came to a stop. I gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of me.
“We’ll go!” he cried, already on his knees, then his feet. “But you stay here! It is what Marcello wanted!”
They ran on, he and Lia, and I turned, still wondering if my lungs would ever again draw breath. I saw Lia kneel, aim, and an arrow sail through the gate. Then another, on Luca’s far side as he ran, the perspective almost making it look as though she had struck him instead.
The River of Time Series Page 81
