DELUGE (16 page)

“How much did you tell them?” Dad asked hopefully. “Of the tombs? Of time travel?”

“Very little,” Orazio said earnestly. “We knew, by then, that we were begging for our own deaths by doing so. But the actors…they swore to the doge about what we’d said. We just refused to back them up.”

“What happened to your clothes?” Mom said.

“The actors took them,” Orazio said, pushing a curl back from his eyes, frustration pulling his lips into a line.

It struck me, then, that these two would be dang cute after a decent night’s rest and a bath. Not that I was attracted to them. I just noticed. And felt a weird familial pride over these new, hot cousins.

Mom and Dad shared a long look. I knew they were thinking we’d have to track down and get rid of those clothes, just as we had our own. There was the incriminating future-factor, but also we just couldn’t have jeans or t-shirts or sneakers in the medieval historical record. It’d mess up detail-freaks like archeologists, big-time. We’d burned or buried all of ours. And now, thanks to Rodolfo, we’d even burned Lia’s.

“So how do we do this?” Gabi asked, in English. “Exit Venezia, stage left, with these guys with us? After what just happened out there tonight, his doge-ness is not going to want his new starlet to leave.”

“Like, ever,” I returned with a sigh.

“He’s probably already in the hallway,” she continued in Italian, “counting down the minutes on our allotted hour. We knew it was going to be tough to disentangle ourselves. The dogaressa made a point of telling me they had the finest midwives in all of Italia here—that I’d have access to the same midwife who helped her through four deliveries.” She stared at Marcello. “I want to be home when our baby comes.”

“You shall be,” he said, taking her hand, looking a bit pained at having to discuss such intimate details in a public setting. “Rodolfo warned us. The doge likes his court to be the most entertaining and interesting in the world. And our presence certainly aids him in that. We knew we’d be here for a couple of weeks. Let’s plan on that, and find a way to convince the doge that when we leave, he should send your Betarrini kin with us. Take up Rodolfo’s suggestion—to claim them as kin, but madmen. Tell him it’s our responsibility to take care of them. If he agrees, he’ll gain continued favor from one of the Nine of Toscana, and get rid of two prisoners who try his patience.”

“Agreed,” she said. “I only hope that he is as logical as you are.”

We could hear the crowd outside then, even from this inner chamber. While we couldn’t make out the words, we could tell what they yelled by cadence alone.
She-Wolf! She-Wolf!

Gabi’s eyes met mine. “It’s all you this time, Sis,” she said, gesturing toward me. We’d heard a crowd like that before, in Siena. And it had ended with Cosmo Paratore getting his ears cut off. In that one, decisive move, Gabi had controlled a situation that was rapidly threatening to unravel. Could I do something similar and accomplish the same task this night?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

~EVANGELIA~

Our hour with the Betarrini boys was up. We hurriedly promised to come and check on them the next morning, bringing them food and new clothing, as well as news on our progress in securing their freedom. A loud knock sounded at the door.

Luca looked to Marcello, and Marcello nodded.

“
Entra
,” Luca called.

A ducale knight stood in the doorway, with others behind him. With the door open, we could make out the rock-star-like chant,
She-Wolf, She-Wolf…

“It is time, my lord,” he said to Marcello. “Serenissimo wishes you all to return to the piazza for the festivities.” His eyes moved to me. “Serenissimo asks that you be prepared for some further exposition of your archery skills. There are a number of noblemen and gentlewomen who would like their try at competing with such a formidable opponent.”

I smiled, thinking that this time, at least, we could place some of our own bets. “As long as there are no more apples or people as potential targets, I cannot see why I wouldn’t take part.”

The knight looked back over his shoulder, whispering something, and a man took off. I frowned. What exactly had the doge planned for me next? Who knew how warped the man was, in his ongoing quest to have the most unique court in the world? I was still trying to get over the dogaressa, and all the noblewomen who hung out with her. Five or six of them had squirrels wearing beaded collars and leashes. Some were cute and basically like rodent-sized dogs, but others would alternately relax as the women petted them, and then bite their fingers without provocation. I saw one woman get bitten and fling her squirrel to the ground, then send a servant chasing after it. A parrot flew back and forth across the dogaressa’s magnificent room, squawking and leaving a trail of tiny feathers and poop across the ornate marble floor, which again, a servant had to scurry across, cleaning up behind the fowl. There’d also been a ferret in attendance. And the corner housed a huge cage, full of twelve tiny, brightly colored birds.

Luca came over to me and offered his arm. I accepted it. Together, we moved out, directly behind the ducale guards. “You really do look stunning in that gown,” he whispered as we walked the hall. “If I died, I’d want to see an angel like you.”

I smiled. It was good to hear him back to his normal teasing. But it felt odd, being clothed in white, a color usually designated for funerals in this era. I definitely stood out…but at least I’d ditched the wings. Those things had been heavy—probably a good thirty pounds—and so thickly layered with white feathers that they’d set me to sneezing. I’d practically fallen off the tower bannister before it was time. It was a wonder I’d hit anything I shot at en route down. What a wreck…

“What is it?” Luca whispered, pulling me closer.

“This whole night,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s so far beyond anything I imagined would happen in Venezia…”

The crowd was so loud as we got closer to the piazza that I doubted Luca could even hear my words. The doors at the end were open, and we could see people dancing, in time with the
She-Wolf
chant, adding instruments as they held hands and wove in and out of other lines.

I glanced back at Gabi, and her eyes were big. She mouthed,
Here we go…
and I took a deep breath.

We emerged, and the crowd went wild, a roar building at the mouth and then spreading to the very back of the piazza until the combined sound was nearly deafening. The doge and dogaressa were smiling and applauding as we approached, the route physically made by a solid line of knights on either side of our path, holding hands to hold back the crowds behind them. From our left and right, people reached past them to try and touch me or Luca, but they didn’t grab, just touched or patted. It was like walking through a bunch of heavy reeds, blessing us, in a way. Just as in Siena, I felt as if these were my people. They were with me and for me, as I was with and for them.

I glanced nervously to the doge, wondering how he was going to take that. He’d either want in—and try to capitalize on this popularity of ours—or he’d want to take me down a notch. Put me in my place and all. Reestablish dominance. Because this dude was all about the power, from head to toe.

He greeted me as if we’d been gone for days, taking my hands and kissing me on both cheeks. But as I moved to draw away, he pulled me closer.

“Do not try me further, Lady Evangelia,” he said in my ear. I just barely made out his words, and wondered what they meant as he pulled back and lifted my arm in a triumphant pose, welcoming the crowd’s renewed pleasure.

When the applause abated, he shouted, “Our Sienese sister has returned to us!”

Again, people cheered.

When they quieted, he asked in a shout, “But we must know. Are the prisoners madmen or kin or both to you?”

I smiled and thought frantically as the people laughed. “I believe, Serenissimo,” I called out, feeling like a stage actor, “that you have found our distant cousins. I am most grateful that you have kept them safe and beg you to pardon them of whatever crime placed them in prison, and allow us to take them back to Toscana with us. They are clearly not in their right minds.”

He smiled, Cheshire-like, and his eyes glinted. He liked this game we were playing.

“There is restitution to be made for their crimes,” he said.

“And we shall pay it,” Marcello said, stepping forward and taking one knee before him.

This, just as I was thinking of blurting,
What exactly has to be paid for the crime of refusing to tell stories?

I decided that Marcello’s response was probably smarter.

“That is most gracious an offer, my lord,” the doge said to him. “I shall confer with my council on the matter. In the meantime…” The doge’s lips twitched, and I narrowed my eyes. Just what was he up to?

He turned and brought his palms together, then separated them in dramatic fashion. As if the crowd was glued to his wordless command, they parted and I could see that six people were tied to pillars on the side of the piazza, right beneath the clock tower. Men, all of them, gagged, eyes wide. Knights were placing an apple on each of their heads.

The doge turned back to me and bowed. “Your new friends in Venezia would dearly love to see you repeat your skill with the bow,” he said. “Some say that it was a ruse. That you couldn’t possibly do what you did, twice. And there are some in the crowd,” he said, looking out at the masses, “who feel they were robbed by those who took their wagers.” He looked back to me. “Given that this is a peaceful, celebratory evening, we thought this the best way to settle the dispute, once and for all.”

He lifted a hand to me as I started to speak and shake my head. “Now I know you took issue with taking aim at those who might be kin to you. But these men…” He glanced over to the right with disdain. “These six have been given a fair trial, and are condemned for murder. So if you miss…” He shrugged, and the crowd laughed, even as my stomach knotted in horror. I truly thought I might throw up.

“And if she strikes the apples?” Gabi asked from behind me, when I paused for too long. Grateful, I looked over to her. Her demeanor was all princess-pants, while I was just afraid I’d pee in mine.
My big sis. Always there when I need her most.
I managed to turn back to await the doge’s reply.

“If she strikes the apples, the prisoner will not be hanged come morn. He will live out his days in the prison.”

Gabi paced back and forth, looking thoughtful. “That is hardly a benefit,” she said with a playful smile, as if the doge welcomed such banter. “Some would say it’s even more trying for your prisoner. And it costs you, Serenissimo, to keep him. Yes? Might you give us another option?”

“Such as…”

“I know!” she cried, snapping her fingers. “Free the six prisoners in your cells who toil there on the leanest of charges. Your people will cheer your clemency!”

The crowd liked that. They cheered as one.
“She-Wolf! She-Wolf!”

The doge gave her a hard smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Because he knew what we knew—Orazio and Galileo’s disobedience charges had to be some of the least pressing among them.

“So be it,” he said, giving her a magnanimous nod even as I could feel the chill from him. He lifted one finger, and the crowd quieted. “But this time, you use my bow and arrows. There are some that say that your own bow and arrows are bewitched. If that is true, our wager is hardly fair, is it?” His lips twitched with the challenge, and my heart sank.

There was no way out other than to do it his way. Desperate, I turned to Luca, and he leaned toward me. “You can do this, Evangelia. I know you can. They’re but twenty paces away.”

“But, Luca, if I miss…”

“You shall not. Ask him for ten practice shots first.”

“What say you, Lady Betarrini?” cried the doge as the crowd began to murmur in frustration at the wait.

I turned, feeling the tight confines of my fitted bodice. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, as I knew Gabi might, were she in my shoes. “If the Serenissimo would grant me ten practice shots first, I shall do my best to put the people’s complaints to rest, and free the least threatening of your prisoners,” I said, then curtsied low, as if dissolving in a puddle of gratefulness.

The doge smiled and turned to take his bow and quiver of arrows from a knight behind him. “I shall grant you five practice shots. More than enough for the most famous archer of Toscana!” When he gestured me forward, I went up the couple of steps and took them from him. But he held on to the bow and pulled me forward. “You are clever, girl. I grant you that,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“I do my best, my prince.”

“I bet you do.” He let go and said loudly, “Now see what the She-Wolf thinks of the finest bow and arrows Venezia has to offer! Give her a target! Make way!”

While men brought targets mounted on hay from the stables, I put on an arm guard in the palest, finest leather I’d ever seen. It looked like it’d never been used and was pretty close to a perfect fit for me. Then I studied the bow, examining the string’s elasticity. I pulled it back, getting a feel for the tension. I grabbed hold of an arrow, running a finger over the tail feathers, checking out the weight of the head, the length of the shaft.

The target was ready and placed to the left of the first prisoner. I shook my head in frustration and looked to the sky. Couldn’t they have set it a bit farther away for safety? But there was no way to ask for such a thing. Not at this particular moment in time.

I nocked an arrow and took aim. Breathed in, breathed out, and released. It went high and to the right, narrowly missing the prisoner. He jerked so hard his apple fell. To
his
right, another prisoner visibly wet himself, a stain spreading across his pants.

The crowd erupted, half in glee, half in dismay. But I ignored them, only nocking another arrow, taking aim, figuring in the bow’s tendency to swing high and right, and then let it go.

I missed again.