Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella) (19 page)

“Nay,” she said numbly, only making a half-effort to free herself of the Fiorentini knight’s grasp upon her arm, looking confused, still glancing over her shoulder toward her father. The knight dragged her toward Lord Barbato, and her eyes widened in terror. “Nay!” she screamed.

Celso took a step forward but Marcello held up his hand. “Hold,” he said lowly. “This must be her choice alone.”

She screamed again when Lord Barbato grabbed hold of her wrist, preparing to lift her before him on his steed. She fought, dropping and dragging her nails down her captor’s arm, drawing blood. Then she turned, her big, brown eyes searching the men beside Marcello, settling on Rodolfo.

“M’lord!” she beseeched him.

“Go,” Marcello grunted.

Then he drew his sword and followed Rodolfo into the fight.

Alessandra stood there as Rodolfo pulled her farther away, toward safety, as the Fiorentini skirmished briefly with the Sienese, and then retreated. Two took off on a separate path, no doubt bent on alerting the rest of the troops on the border. But Alessandra could only watch her father looking sorrowfully over his shoulder at her, as if she were a mere ghost. Dead to him, already.

“Papa!” she cried, reaching out.

But when he turned away, disappearing among the oak and brush, she fell to her knees, weeping. How could he not believe her? Turn his back on her?

It hurt worse than the injuries she’d suffered at Barbato’s hands.

The woods became eerily silent as the last of the Fiorentini disappeared, and Castello Forelli’s men sheathed their swords.

“It won’t be long,” Lord Forelli growled. “Get her inside the gates.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Rodolfo said. He didn’t pause as he turned to her. Didn’t inquire of her needs. Simply picked her up and carried her inside the castello, even as she wept, his tunic soon growing damp with her tears. The gates banged shut behind her, and the crossbeam slid back into place with a metallic clang that echoed in her head. She thought she might forever carry the sound of it with the memory of when her life as a Fiorentini ended.

Rodolfo carried her into the small castello chapel, with its lovely, fresco covered walls, and sat down on the third bench. It was cool in the small building, even as the climbing sun warmed the courtyard. “Shh, shh,” he said, settling her anew on his lap, cradling her. “I know, Alessandra. I
know
your pain. I’m so sorry you must bear it as I have.”

“How could he…” she sniffed. “How could he not believe me? My own father?”

“Barbato and his ilk, they specialize in poisoning the minds and hearts of others. In time, mayhap we can reach out to your father. Make him see reason.”

She clung to his words. Thinking of her father. Her home. Her neighbors. Never seeing any of them again…Which only made her weep with fresh pain.

“Shh, Alessandra. Shh,” he said, rocking her a little, kissing her brow, her head, somehow able to ignore her embarrassing appearance. Only making her feel accepted. Cared for. Loved.

Who was this man? This man who had ventured across the border to save her? Who had freed her from her enemies twice over? She looked up at him, and saw that his own brown eyes were wet with tears.

Never had she been more drawn to him.

He looked down into her eyes, studying her, considering her. Then he bent closer, silently inquiring, his breath hot across her lips. Sweet. Inviting.

Tipping her chin up, she moved her lips across his, barely brushing them. She reached up and put her hand against his face and he closed his eyes, sighing, and covering her hand with his own, kissed her palm. Then he turned back to look into her eyes.

“Alessandra,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Could it be? That two Fiorentini find themselves within Sienese gates? So that we might find each other? To know love?”

“I am nothing,” she whispered back. “I have nothing. No home. No family. No dowry. I am not worthy of you, m’lord.”

“I am a man only recently given what he has by new friends and family,” he said, his eyes covering her face. “So we find ourselves in similar circumstances. Alessandra, it is a grief to lose what you know and love. I understand. But you are a warrior, within, beaten as you now may feel. You shall rise again. I see it in you. And this castello, these people, celebrate warrior women, do they not? Far more than any others either of us have ever met, I’d wager.”

His words held such promise, his handsome eyes twinkling with hope, that Alessandra felt the tiniest spark of light within her. “M’lord,” she began.

“Rodolfo,” he corrected.

“Rodolfo,” she said, staring into his eyes, begging him closer.

And that was all the invitation he needed. He bent his head and gave her the most tender, sweetest, passionate kiss she’d ever known. She got lost in the comfort of it, the reassurance of his arms, the way he pulled her close—and it warmed her to the core, easing aside the bitter cold draft of her father’s betrayal.

When he drew away, he looked again into her eyes. “Is it possible?” he whispered, giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek, her temple. “Is it possible?” he repeated in wonder.

And with each rendition of his question, she felt an incredible, mad hope surge, on the darkest day of her life.

***

~EVANGELIA~

The messenger arrived late-morning, having ridden all the way from Castello Forelli. I saw him first and rose from my stool beside the easel and parchment upon it. Mom and Dad set down their books and leaned forward, waiting. Gabi turned from the other window and the messenger went directly to her.

“M’lady,” he said, gasping for breath.

She turned and poured a glass of water for him, not bothering to ask a servant to do it. We all waited anxiously for him to get ahold of himself, and share what he must.

I wrung my hands, hating every drop of water he swallowed so greedily. Hating myself for begrudging his thirst, but just wanting the dude to
speak
.

“Quickly,” Gabi said, losing patience. “What news have you? Are our men in good health?”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. Our lord bid me come with a most urgent message. He fears you have become double the target because of your…” He paused to clear his throat. “State of grace,” he finally said. “And Lady Evangelia’s hesitancy to wield her bow has become known as well, to our enemies. He wants to be certain that you shall remain here, within the palazzo, under guard. You are not to leave until he comes for you himself.”

Gabi took a step back, hand at her throat. “What has happened to provoke the Fiorentini so? Did Lord Greco and Sir Luca not return with the girl?”

“They did, m’lady,” he said with a polite nod, wringing his hands. “But the girl has plainly suffered abuse.”

Mom turned away, groaning. We all knew what it meant.

“’Tis abuse the Fiorentini claim the men of Castello Forelli subjected her to,” the messenger went on to say. He shook his head. “She’s in poor form, m’lady. Her hair shorn. Beaten.”

“At Lord Barbato’s hands, of course,” Gabi said, taking a step toward the window, remembering. “That man is capable of anything.”

“All they need is another excuse,” Mom said. “They’ll say it’s rationale to take you or Lia. Anyone, really.”

“And publicly execute you. An eye for an eye, and all of that. He’s right,” Dad said, gesturing toward the messenger. “Under no circumstance are you two leaving this palazzo. Understood?”

We nodded, seriously freaked again. The Fiorentini had wanted us before, but now, if they’d gotten worked up into a frenzy…Memories of the assassins they’d sent to track down the brotherhood returned to me. I decided I was all for double-guard duty.

“Where is Alessandra now?” I asked.

“Back at Castello Forelli. Her father has disowned her for declaring it was a Fiorentini who abused her, and Lord Foraboshi declared her mad. He intended to put her away, into a nunnery, but she turned to Lord Greco for help.”

Lord Greco. A smile edged my lips as I shared a look with Gabi. Maybe the girl hadn’t been so Firenze-minded that she couldn’t see the handsome former-Fiorentini who’d ridden to her aid. I was just glad she hadn’t set her eyes on Luca.

Gabi shook her head, remembering herself, her responsibilities. “What else would Lord Forelli have me do, while I await him here?”

“M’lord bids you see to informing the rest of the Nine and send messengers to his brothers near Siena to bar their gates. He has sent word to those beyond Siena.”

I shared a look with Dad, my hopes that our guys might soon be with us again crashing alongside Gabi’s. If Luca were here, I might be able to draw a full breath…

That’s when we heard the alarm bells. First one church’s. Then another’s. I went to the window, but could see little besides people scurrying out of the piazza below it. Sienese knights in formation trotted through the far gate.

Another stranger hovered at the doorway, accompanied by one of our men. “Permission to enter, m’lady?”

“Come,” Gabi said, lifting her chin and waving him inward.

“News from Firenze, m’lady,” he said with a nod. “I am to pass it along to each of the Nine.”

“My husband is in battle on behalf of Siena. I shall receive it on his behalf,” she said, all-stately-Don’t-Mess-with-Me.

“The Fiorentini have mandated that each citizen’s arm be inspected for the mark that your husband and his captain share with Lord Greco.”

“It was one of the brotherhood who assisted Signorina Alessandra in her escape,” interrupted the messenger, “reaching Sir Luca and Lord Greco.”

Gabi paled and I rushed to help her to a seat, feeling more than a little queasy myself. “Not again…” She moaned. I felt as light-headed as she looked.

“They mean business, Gabs,” I said in English, in her ear. “They want to finish what they started a year ago. We have to concentrate on those who yet live.”

She seemed to gather herself then, nodding. “Is there anything else?” she asked the Sienese messenger.

“Nay, m’lady.”

“Good then. Please. Carry on with your task and inform the others.” She turned to the messenger from Castello Forelli. “If that is all, go to the kitchens. They’ll see to you from there.”

“Yes, m’lady,” he said, giving her a bow and leaving the room.

Together, we slowly met our parents’ eyes. “They’re nothing but a bunch of thugs,” Gabi grumbled. “Gang-bangers.”

“Vendettas go way back,” Dad said. “Fact of life, here.” He leaned closer. “Now what did he mean when he mentioned your ‘state of grace’?”

She abruptly stood. “We don’t have time for this. I must see to getting word to the brotherhood.”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “
Gabi
. Maybe it’s time you tell them. Go on. Just do it.”

She froze, a blush climbing her neck. “I don’t know what he was talking about. Or what you are.”

“I’ll see about sending word to the brotherhood.” I stared hard at her.
This was for her good, my little niece or nephew’s good
… “You tell them.”

“Lia…”

“Gabi’s pregnant,” I said.

And as my sister sputtered in rage, my mother gasped, and my father put his hands on his face, I walked out, in search of paper, pen and men to carry new messages of warning.

***

By early afternoon, they were weary and frustrated. Every move they made, the Fiorentini countered. But they did not engage in full attack. They continually stabbed at Marcello’s men, and then withdrew.

“They toy with us,” Luca said, panting, rubbing the back of his hand over his sweaty lip and forehead.

“Indeed,” Marcello said. He studied the retreating backs of a contingent of Fiorentini, as they crossed the creek bed, and Rodolfo and Celso came up on his other side.

He turned to wave over a scout, on horseback. When the man reached him, he said, “The Fiorentini resist full attack. Take another and circle around them. See if they await reinforcements.”

“Yes, Lord Forelli,” said the man, and immediately wheeled his horse around and galloped off.

“It makes no sense, though,” Luca said. “We are as yet outnumbered, and they have the advantage of Alessandra’s supposed abuse to fuel their men. Why not press in, now?”

“They know we can merely hole up in Castello Forelli. They’re awaiting something else…” His chin lifted and his eyes whipped over to Luca’s.

“Nay,” Luca said, frowning, shaking his head. “They would not attempt it. The women are safe within Palazzo Forelli, in the heart of the city!”

“They might,” Rodolfo said, miserably. “Lord Barbato tortured Alessandra. Made her tell him all she knew.”

Luca and Marcello turned to face him. “And?” Marcello growled.

His miserable look told him what they feared most.

“So they know of Evangelia’s hesitancy,” Luca said, sounding as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as them. “Lady Gabriella and her parents will see Evangelia comes to no harm, to say nothing of the ample guards we assigned.”

Marcello met his eyes. “’Tis that. They know she is weak. But they also know something of Gabriella.”

Luca’s sandy brow lowered. “And that is…”

“She carries a child.”

His brows lifted and he whooped, slapping Marcello’s upper arms as if he’d just heard the finest news all day. Which it was, of course. But Marcello waited for him to understand.

Gradually, the joy faded into understanding. “Ahh. But won’t a She-Wolf with child be all the more fierce in her defense? And the only men capable of reaching them would be of the likes of those that went after the brotherhood…We killed them all.”

“Nay,” Rodolfo said. “That is an elite force, the pride of the Grandi. They would have replaced them by now. And they’d be burning to prove themselves anew.”

Marcello was already moving toward his horse, the men with him, studying the sun, now well on its way down. “They shall see her as twice the delectable target she once was, and Evangelia an easy conquest.”

The muscles in Luca’s jaw twitched as he ran toward their horses, slightly ahead of Marcello.

“The Fiorentini did not intend to fully engage us here today,” Marcello said. “They meant to distract us. They gave up Alessandra, but intend to take our own.” They doubled their pace, swinging up into their saddles. “Rodolfo, Celso, see to a full retreat of the men. Bar the gates of Castello Forelli and see to her as if she were your own.”