It was then I knew that something else was going on. This was more than a little frustration over our plans. I thought back, remembered Tomas speaking to Lord Rabellino last night. “You discovered something,” I said softly.
Tomas stared at Marcello, and when Marcello said nothing, turned back to me. “’Tis Lord Greco.”
Lia came fully through the door then. “Lord Greco,” she repeated.
“Rodolfo, yes.”
“He’s taken the brunt of the blame,” Marcello said with a growl, lifting a hand in frustration. “Lord Barbato pinned our whole escape from Roma on him. Said he’s been a Sienese sympathizer from the start. Protected you. Protected Fortino. And ultimately let you go.” He took a few steps and stared at the high window, hand over his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at us. “He’s been stripped of everything. Title. Land. Thrown in prison. They’re bringing him here.”
“To us?” I asked, bracing.
“Nay, to the border. To Castello Paratore. They want him to be able to see us, the Sienese, and the Sienese to see him, when they impale him.”
“Impale him?” I asked numbly. “What does that mean?”
Marcello closed his eyes and rubbed all ten fingers into his forehead, pressing inward. “The worst form of execution, borrowed from the Ottomans. They take a pointed pole…” He shook his head, as if the mere thought of it pained him and he could not bear to tell us more. He threw his hands out, fingers splayed. “It’s reserved for traitors, the worst sort of traitors, and has been used recently by our old friend Lord Paratore, who seems to delight in it. But Rodolfo shall suffer for days before he dies.”
“But…but,” I said, sitting heavily in the closest chair. “’Tis not how the Rossis were executed, right? Were they not accused of similar crimes?”
“Nay, because the Sienese are civil. Not barbarians,” he cried, throwing his hands out again. I knew he wasn’t angry with me.
“And you—you think you can stop it?” I asked Tomas.
“Nay,” he said sadly. “I must go to him to receive his last confession, to be his friend.”
“Which is, in effect, signing his own death sentence,” Marcello spat out angrily, gesturing toward Tomas. “He knows as well as I that the Fiorentini will tie him to you, to us. Saints above! The last time they saw him in Roma, who was hauling him away? Lady Gabriella Betarrini. They’ll impale him beside Rodolfo!”
I stared hard at Tomas. “Why?” I asked in confusion. “Why would you give your life just to see him?”
“Because he has done far more for me,” Tomas said steadily. “He is a friend. A brother.”
Marcello let out a sound of exasperation. “Show her. Get it over with!”
Tomas sighed and rolled up the brown sleeve of his robe to show me the triangular tattoo at his elbow.
I let out a soft breath. “Oh.” Now it made sense. Him leaving Rodolfo, coming after me. Watching out for me—because I was Marcello’s intended as well as Rodolfo’s friend. Rodolfo protecting him, giving him a job as chaplain, regardless of his status within the church.
“What’s that?” Lia whispered.
I ignored her. “How many are there?” I asked. “How many more?”
“A fair number,” Marcello hedged.
“Have you called on them before?” I pressed.
“Only Rodolfo. And now Tomas, in a fashion.”
“How soon can the rest arrive?” I asked intently. I threw out my hands in exasperation. “I assume they have men they can bring with them. They’re not all priests who’ve sworn to never wield a sword, are they?”
Marcello’s eyes met mine. I was asking if their alliance—so strong that a man would go to his death for another, even betray his current allegiances if necessary—was big enough, wide enough, strong enough to do battle with what was coming our way. Siena would ride to our aid. But we needed something more—something stronger, if we were to save Rodolfo. If we were to change the course of our river, once and for all.
“If I send out messengers now,” Marcello said, “they might get here in time.”
So there were enough.
Men in power. Men willing to fight for one other. Men who would come and help us.
“I take it you’re not getting married today,” Lia said lowly, from my side.
I looked into Marcello’s eyes. “Nay. Today we prepare for the war coming to our door.”
CHAPTER 26
My family, Marcello’s principal knights, Tomas, and Luca all sat in the den, staring at the map that showed the area around Castello Paratore and Castello Forelli. Ten messengers on our fastest horses had been sent out to find the men who’d once made a pledge to Marcello, to Rodolfo, to Tomas. I had no idea if those men were all there were—or if they were merely all who still lived.
“Tomas cannot go alone,” I said, pacing back and forth. “We need people inside Castello Paratore’s gates, to aid him if he encounters trouble—”
“Which he shall,” Marcello interrupted, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“And to help him and Lord Greco escape,” I finished. I looked at the priest as Cook edged past with a heavy tray of food. “What if I went with you, disguised as a nun?”
“Nay,” Marcello said. “Are you mad? You are far too recognizable, even in a nun’s garb. Paratore would know you in a moment.” He paced away and then back again, rubbing the back of his neck. “He sneaked his own men into the ranks of Castello Forelli. He’ll be wary of us trying to return such trickery.”
“He’ll be looking for knights in disguise,” Cook said, setting the tray between us. She straightened and rested her hands on her ample belly. “But I’ve heard tell that they’re hiring servants across at Castello Paratore now that the despicable man has returned and his men with him. Could you not sneak in a few of your loyalists within their ranks? They might not be able to wield a sword or bow, but could they not unlock a door?”
Marcello’s eyes shone with excitement. He rose and rubbed his hands together. “How many, Cook?”
“From what I hear tell, they’re seeking a good ten girls for the kitchen, as well as a good number of men for the stables. I heard about it just this morning, down at the market. Most weren’t interested, o’ course, owing to their loyalties to Siena. But given the cold of winter is upon us and stores in the cellar draw low…”
Marcello bit his lip and shook his head. “I do not know if I can abide by the idea of sending women into harm’s way.”
“Even if those women asked to do so?” Cook returned. “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord, but your people have just been returned to their rightful homes. They’re willing to give anything to help you keep the castello. As well as protect Siena’s own.”
He studied her. “What good could an unarmed girl do in the face of so many enemy knights? And men, with no more than a pitchfork?”
“More than you might imagine,” I said with a slow grin.
“The women would be in the kitchen,” Mom added. “Could they not add something to the stew, the bread, to make the men sick, weak, in the face of your attack?”
“Or barricade themselves inside rooms within the castle?” I said. “Mayhap in the armory, effectively shutting the men out?”
“And the men in the stables, could they not do the same?” Dad said. “Weaken saddle straps, set ropes to unraveling, even set herds free, adding to the chaos?”
I laughed in disbelief. Could it be so simple? Talk about your guerilla warfare tactics…
“Some could assist in the camps,” Cook said. “They wouldn’t be inside the castle gates, but they’d be set to foil Firenze’s plans in the most surprising places.”
“Cook,” Marcello said, shaking his head in wonder, “you are ingenious.”
“I take offense at your surprise, m’lord,”
she joked.
But Marcello wasn’t paying attention. His brow lowered by the second. “They shall be executed. Killed immediately, if they are found out.”
Cook sobered. “You do not force anyone to do this. But if they so wish…”
“If they so wish, and succeed, they shall be rewarded greatly. But they must enter knowing there shall be no rescue, no aid, if they are captured.”
“’Twould be an honorable deal, one many shall leap toward,” Cook said, then picked up the empty goblets and a pitcher.
“Not a word to anyone,” Marcello said.
“Silent as the tomb,” she said in a whisper. Then she was gone.
“We cannot send anyone who might be recognized over at Castello Paratore,” Lia said.
Marcello nodded, chin in hand, pacing again. “Only our newest recruits.”
“So then,” Georgii said, clapping Luterius’s shoulder, “we resume life as stable boys, when we’ve only just parted from our squiring days.”
“Nay,” Marcello said. “They might recognize you from Sansicino. Go and see if there are knights among the ranks, however, with a youthful appearance. There may be room, yet, for a few fighting men in disguise.”
“Consider it done, m’lord,” Georgii said, setting off with his brother right away.
“And us? How might we be of assistance?” I asked.
“By our side,” Marcello said, “the Betarrinis shall inspire our men and distract our enemies. The Fiorentini will be so wild with hope that they might capture you again, they won’t think to second-guess the men and women around them.”
“So we shall once again be bait to the bear?” Lia said, tensing, remembering.
Marcello was quick to shake his head. “Nothing like last time. That was far too dangerous. You shall be figureheads—escorted to the safety of the castle—not ever at the center of the battle.”
I nodded in agreement, the subservient lil’ wife-to-be. But inside I was thinking Yeah, right. We’ll see. Battle had a way of turning in unexpected directions. We’d be prepared, regardless.
For anything. For everything.
Giacinta was first among the servants to volunteer. “’Twould be my distinct honor, m’lady,” she said.
“Oh,” I protested. “Do you think it’s wise, Giacinta? Your daughter is so young—”
“And I want her to grow up to fight for what she believes is right,” Giacinta returned. “My mother can see to her, just as she does every other day.”
“But what if you don’t come home?” I pressed. “This is hardly like any other day and—”
“And I know it’s what I am to do, m’lady,” she interrupted gently.
“He’s ruthless,” Lia put in. “Paratore—he’ll be a terror if it’s discovered that you have infiltrated the castello for our goals.”
“Then he shall not find out.”
I studied her. She was far more determined than I thought possible. “Marcello will promise no rescue,” I said. “’Twill not matter how much I plead on your behalf—”
“Be at ease, m’lady,” she said resting a gentle hand on my arm and looking into my eyes. “I know the stakes are grave. I wish to do this. As you and your sister might, if they did not know you on sight.”
I bit my lip and nodded. She seemed sure.…I glanced toward Mom, wondering what she thought.
“But what am I to do?” Giacinta said. “I know not how to wield a sword as you do, or a bow as Lady Evangelia.”
Mom smiled.
“You wield a far greater weapon in the kitchen,” I said.
Mom offered her a glass bottle full of liquid. “Slip this into the cauldrons of porridge for the men,” she said. “It shall give them stomachaches that will not kill them but will certainly make them wish they could die.”
Giacinta’s eyes grew wide with understanding. “So they cannot fight.”
“Right. It needs to go into the morning porridge the day of Lord Greco’s execution.”
“You’ll have to pay close attention to gossip from the keep so that you are apprised of the goings-on,” I said. “We’ll get a couple of the other girls to assist you in it.”
“As soon as it’s done you must take your leave,” Lia said. “’Twill not take long for them to suspect you.”
Giacinta gave us a shy look. “Fear not, m’ladies. I shall be away like a shadow in the night.”
Lia and Mom and I shared a surprised look—who knew my hairdressing maid had such strength within her?—but we all smiled back at her. “I do believe you, Giacinta,” I said, “shall be our most valuable secret weapon of all.”
We found several women willing to try to free any prisoners in Lord Paratore’s dungeon—memories of Lia within it sent a shiver down my back—and still others who agreed to unlock doors and barricade the armory. Meanwhile the youngest and most eager knights and squires were brought together and briefed on their task, which was essentially to bring down any able-bodied knight inside Castello Paratore, as well as assist our cause, the moment they had the chance. “If you can take down one or two in preparation for battle, even,” Marcello said, pacing before the group of them, hands behind him, “there shall be one fewer dumping flaming oil down on our backs when we charge the castle gates.
“We have but two goals for this battle ahead of us,” Marcello continued. “One, to rescue Lord Greco, who has been an aid to us in more ways than one. And two, to capture Castello Paratore. Once it is in our hands, we shall dismantle it, stone by stone, so our enemies may never take up residence in it again.
“We shall press the Fiorentini back. Reestablish a proper boundary for Siena. Their utter and pronounced defeat, and Lord Greco’s defection, shall remove any hope they have of retaliation. Our valleys shall enjoy years of peace.” He was giving them the pep talk, psyching them up for what was ahead. But he was guessing, hoping. Not promising.
“If you are not willing to die for the cause, do not go. It is most dangerous,” he said gravely, looking each of them in the eye. “If caught, you cannot look to us to save you. You are entering the heart of war. But if you die, you shall be heralded as heroes.”
They cheered, as if they could not imagine any outcome other than victory. But I swallowed hard, thinking of how many ways I’d seen my own plans fail.
Marcello set them loose, in groups of three or on their own, heading toward Castello Paratore after Father Tomas prayed over them, long and hard. It was a bit overwhelming, really. It was one thing for knights to fight for you—they were paid, trained to do so—but servants? It was a level of loyalty I’d never seen before. They wanted this, still smarting from the beating they’d taken a year ago. When Castello Forelli had been taken, when they’d been turned out from their home.
I walked over to the wall and put a hand on the cold, rough-cut stone. Marcello wanted me here, in the center of the old structure. But did he not remember that no castle—or even city—had yet proven to be a safe haven? No, we could make wise choices, do our best moment by moment. But our lives would end the day God chose to step aside and allow it. And if either Lia or I died, there’d be no going back in time to save us.
“Visitors, m’lord,” announced a stable boy to Marcello. The boy gave the group of servants a curious look, but then left us.
I glanced at Marcello. The first of his brothers from afar? He offered his arm to me, and we paraded out to the courtyard, Lia and Luca and my parents right on our heels.
“Conte Lerici,” he called, recognizing the man.
The young man, not entirely handsome but reeking of power and money, swept off his horse, his camel-colored cape—with the herald of a hawk embroidered on it—swinging in dramatic fashion. Beyond him were twelve men, exquisitely attired in the same camel color, each with finely wrought bows and elaborately feathered arrows. He greeted Marc
ello halfway, clasping his arm and sharing a secretive grin. I’d certainly never met him in Siena—and he was the kind of man you’d remember.
“Conte Lerici,” Marcello said. “May I present my intended, Lady Gabriella Betarrini?”
Conte Lerici gave me a slow smile, and warmth entered his calculating eyes. “M’lady,” he said, bowing over my hand but not kissing it. “’Tis far more an honor than you realize.”
I gave him a puzzled look.
“During the Great Battle,” he explained, still holding my hand and straightening, “you led the bulk of Firenze’s men away from my castello, sparing it that night.”
“I confess, Conte Lerici,” I said with a regretful smile, glancing over his shoulder at the dozen men, “that I had no idea where I was leading those enemy forces. I only knew I was to lead them away from Marcello. And I was attempting to preserve my own life at the same time.”
“Ahh,” he said, joining me in my smile. “Such is my fortune.” His eyes roamed past me to Lia.
“Uh-uh,” Luca said playfully, taking Lerici’s arm next in greeting. “That one is my lady,” he said, grinning into the man’s eyes. They were about the same height.
“Seems as if I shouldn’t have tarried so long in the West,” Conte Lerici said. “’Twas here that I might have found my contessa.”
“After the battle we shall focus on nothing but your quest,” Luca pledged.
The visitor laughed, a deep, genuine sound, and I liked him better for it. Based on the easy camaraderie among the men, I knew the count had to be one of the ten Marcello had sent for—those in the brotherhood forged so long ago.
Further introductions were made and the men were given food, the horses water and oats. “The finest archers between Roma and Venezia,” Marcello said in my ear, gleeful. “Had he brought a hundred men on horses instead, I would have still opted for those twelve.”
“We should put Lia with them,” I offered. “She has ideas on where to hide archers in preparation.”
“Excellent. Let’s get them in place soon, far before the battle begins.”
The River of Time Series Page 88
