Waterfall Page 12

  Marcello bent and touched my shoulder lightly. I shivered at his touch. “Do you have a chill?” he said. “Perhaps a blanket—”

  “Nay,” I said, laying my hand on his and looking into his eyes. “I am well. Truly. Please. Fret no more over me.”

  Our faces were overly close, and in that moment something more passed between us. I’d never felt this kind of thing with a guy—such a connection. I knew, in my head, that we were practically strangers; but this thing—whatever it was—made me feel known. Seen. Acknowledged and appreciated and admired.

  I shivered again and dropped my hand. He pulled his back and stepped away, staring at me as if he couldn’t figure out what had just happened. “I…I must see to the men,” he said, gesturing with his head. “You will remain here?”

  I understood his question.

  “I shall not interfere again,” I promised. On any level…

  CHAPTER 9

  “How do you fare, m’lord?” I asked, pausing in the doorway the next morning.

  Fortino looked toward me. He had more color, despite his surly glance. “That was the most uncomfortable night I’ve ever spent. But I must say, I feel better than I have in weeks.” He patted his chest. “Today I am able to breathe again. Truly breathe.” He smiled, and I thought again about how much he looked like Marcello, just thinner. The spark in his eye made him resemble his brother even more.

  “’Tis truly a miracle of sorts,” he said. “I am most grateful for your ministrations, m’lady. You’ve done more for me in one day than all the doctors my father has ever summoned.”

  “That is wonderful, m’lord,” I said, unable to suppress my grin. The hope on his face filled me with joy. I’d never done anything that had really helped someone like that before. It made me feel bad about what I had to tell him. So I just plunged forward with, “I am to take my leave of the castello today—”

  “Leave? You cannot leave! I am just now on a mending path.”

  “And I am so happy that I could aid you in some small way. But I am beside myself with fear for my family. I must be off to find them. I’m certain you understand.”

  He clearly didn’t. I could see it on his face. He looked like a pouty little boy about to be abandoned by his mother. I shoved away a pang of guilt.

  “What does Marcello say of this plan?” he asked. “It was my understanding that the woods were full of bands of mercenaries.”

  “He says much the same, but he and your father feel it’s important to report to the Nine about these mercenaries—and the man who hired them.” I shuddered, remembering again the screams that picked up again after Marcello left me, then abruptly ceased in the middle of the night. I had not dared to peek my head out into the courtyard to see what had become of them.

  “Who is it that set them to such a task?” Fortino asked.

  “I have not yet heard,” I said, shaking my head.

  “But surely Marcello wouldn’t subject a woman to such—”

  “Do not fret over me, m’lord. Once we catch sight of Siena, we will be safe.”

  “Siena is six hours’ ride from here.”

  “So we will have to ride fast enough to make it in three, faster than any mercenaries,” I said, more jauntily than I felt. I didn’t want him to worry. It might send him into an asthma attack or something. “I am fairly good with a sword,” I said, walking to the only adornment to the room I’d allowed back into the room, six swords crossed in Xs on one wall. I ran my hand along one edge.

  “Do not tell me that you can wield a sword as well as read.”

  “I can,” I said, grinning at him over my shoulder.

  “They raise women in Normandy quite differently than in Toscana.”

  “Quite. Fortino, might I borrow this one? I’d feel better, if I was armed in these woods. And anyone who dared to attack me would be as surprised as you to find my bringing a sword against them. It would give me an advantage.”

  “Those are uncommonly heavy,” he said. “They were my grandfather’s.”

  “Better than nothing,” I pressed. After last night, I dared not try to steal into the armory and recover the short broadsword and dagger I’d worn before. “I could return it to you with Marcello.”

  “If you must,” he said doubtfully.

  I took it gingerly from its hooks and moved it in a slow arc, with both of my hands on the hilt. It was heavier than the one I had held two days earlier, but I felt instantly stronger with it in hand.

  “You shall get yourself killed,” said a voice from the door.

  I turned, knowing already it was Marcello.

  “An armed woman will be more of a target for knights on the prowl.”

  “And unarmed women can find themselves without defense,” I said pointedly. “I shall not be that woman.”

  He studied me. “It is one thing to play with swords in the safety of one’s castle, with servants, as your father apparently allowed you to do,” he said.

  “Marcello,” Fortino began, interceding for me.

  But Marcello held his hand up to his brother, his eyes still on me. “It is quite another to encounter a man on the battlefield.”

  I wanted to shudder at the memory of the giant in the employ of the Paratores. But Marcello’s story of what had happened to that family yesterday was worse. I lifted my chin. “I will take my chances.”

  “Lady Betarrini, trust me and my men to protect you.”

  “You might be otherwise occupied.”

  “You are not prepared for what may come if you unsheathe a sword.”

  “Try me. Draw yours.”

  I felt Fortino shift in his chair, but my eyes were solely on his brother. Marcello studied me for a long moment, his gaze intense and warm, but then, so quickly I could only take half a breath, he drew his sword and was rushing across the room at me, yelling ferociously.

  I barely had time to bring my sword up to block him, his sword pausing just before it hit mine, so I knew he didn’t indeed plan to slice my head from my neck.

  I turned and let out a cry, using the momentum of my turn to bring my sword around. Belatedly, I realized I didn’t have the strength to stop it, as he had his own blow, but he blocked it, staring at me with brown eyes full of wonder. A couple of servants had entered the room, as well as a knight or two, obviously alerted by our cries, but Marcello raised one hand to them. “All is well.”

  He advanced upon me, choosing his steps, watching me, my hands, my eyes, casually trying to figure out my next move. At that moment, what I needed most was to convince him that I should be given a weapon before we took to the road. So again, I swung around, ending with my sword en route to his heart, confident that with his strength and size, he could again stop it.

  He dodged and deflected my sword, but I quickly regained my footing and waved it before me, advancing steadily upon him as we crossed blades to one side and then the other. Out of breath, I stopped, and he let a slow smile spread across his face as he stared down at me, barely panting.

  “Surprised?” I asked.

  “You might say that.” But he used the moment to attack again, pushing me back. I almost stumbled and fell, barely blocking each blow he now dealt me.

  “All right, all right,” I said, lifting a hand, hunched over, breathing harder than before.

  He lowered his sword and grinned over at his companions, who teased him about defeating a woman. But then I saw the opportunity. I pulled back my sword and turned, bringing the flat of the weapon against his belly, like a bat to a ball.

  His breath left him in a whoosh as his men hooted with laughter and the servants twittered in hidden giggles. He bent over, trying to regain his breath, and as he did so, I lifted my skirts slightly, put a slippered foot against his shoulder, and shoved against him.

  Clearly caught unaw
are, he fell to the floor.

  The room fell silent, and I wondered if I had crossed another line, but I didn’t care. I moved toward him and set the tip of the sword on the stone beside his head. “Might I carry at least this sword, m’lord?”

  “Fine,” he said. He rolled to his side and then sat partially up, looking over to his brother. His face changed in that moment, to one of surprise, as he saw the color in Fortino’s face.

  “A healer as well as a warrior,” Fortino said, in naked admiration.

  “Indeed,” Marcello said, glancing up at me. “With eyes the color of the most fertile ground. You, m’lady, will give the troubadours of Siena something altogether new to sing of.”

  I smiled and then offered a hand to help him up, but Luca and Pietro were there a half second before me, both staring at me in wonder.

  I turned toward Fortino, suddenly embarrassed with all the attention. The last thing I needed was anyone whispering—or for heaven’s sake, singing—of my actions. I needed to escape this place, this time, and get home before it was discovered I wasn’t who I said I was. You’ve gotta blend into the walls more, woman, I berated myself. Make ’em forget about you so you can disappear, back through the sands of time to your own.

  “Are you quite well?” he asked me as I took the chair beside him and the others filtered out.

  “Quite,” I said, focusing on him again. He did look far better than he had just yesterday. “I beg you to continue on with your regimen, m’lord. Work up to solid foods as soon as you can, and when weak, return to the soup. You can add blankets and other comforts and examine if they interfere at all with your breathing. If they do, remove them again. Understood?”

  He nodded. “We never did get back to our reading of the poet,” he said, fiddling with a splinter in the arm of his wooden settee. He was so desperately lonely. How would I feel if Lia left me each day, with nothing but books to keep me company? At least we had Internet.

  “Mayhap our paths will cross again and we shall have the opportunity to read more together,” I offered.

  “That would be a delight,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Go with God, Lady Betarrini.”

  “Um, thanks,” I said. I turned and left the room, then walked down the corridor to my own. Go with God? Was this God’s path, this crazy adventure in a forgotten age? And if so, what did He want me to do?

  “Change the course of history? Right some wrong? What?” I muttered to the stone ceiling. No voice came to me from the sputtering torch like Moses’ burning bush. No angel appeared in the light streaming from my window. “Whatever it is, just let me know so I can get it done and get home, okay?”

  “M’lady?” asked a girl tentatively, and for the first time I realized I wasn’t alone in my room.

  “Oh! Giacinta! I didn’t see you there. I was just saying I need to gather my things and hopefully get a little closer to home.”

  She pointed to two satchels. “I packed your other gown, and your other things, as well as a fine, new gown that Lady Forelli, God rest her soul—” she paused to cross herself again— “never had the opportunity to wear. It had been intended for Lord Fortino’s nuptials.”

  “His nuptials? He was married?”

  “He was intended for Lady Vitti of Siena. But when he took so ill, the betrothal agreement was broken. Soon afterward, Lady Forelli died of the fever, and Lord Forelli never seemed to consider it again.”

  I paused, thinking over that. Poor man. So much lost. So much promise, hope, joy, gone within what? A year? “Thank you for your care, Giacinta,” I murmured.

  “Who will see to your hair, m’lady?”

  “I can only hope someone with hands as fast as yours,” I said with a smile. Maybe they have a hair dryer in Siena, I joked to myself. Trust me, I can manage this mop with some decent product and a roller brush. “Thank you.”

  “Go with God, m’lady,” she said with a bob of her head, and headed for the door.

  “Go with God,” I returned, wondering again at the words.

  In the courtyard, Marcello and his men were bent over in a circle. Marcello was drawing with a stick in the dust. A plan, I sensed; he was making a plan. I crept closer, hoping none of them would notice me.

  “The Paratores will not wish us to reach Siena. They’ll know we intend to return with reinforcements, which might aid us in conquering them.” He looked about at the men, eyes full of warning, and then he spotted me.

  I was clearly not welcome. There was none of the delight and wonder in his eyes that had been there when we had our swordplay in Fortino’s den. I turned and walked toward a servant holding a brown gelding with my stupid sidesaddle, feeling as if Marcello had slapped me across the face. Dumb boys’ club. Women’s lib is obviously a long way off.

  Lady Rossi emerged from the dining hall, on the arm of the senior Lord Forelli and followed by Lord Foraboschi and her ladies-in-waiting. The girls looked a bit wan at the prospect of riding out in the midst of such danger. I turned away so Lady Rossi wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes, and tried to feel compassion for her. She was a product of her environment, given few choices. What might I have been like, had I been born when she had been? Six hundred and seventy years made a world of difference to society.

  Enzo arrived and lifted a sheath to me. “Courtesy of Lord Fortino,” he said. He quickly strapped it to my saddle, and I slid the sword inside. “It’ll be covered by your skirts, m’lady,” he said, delight in his eyes. “They shall never suspect that you carry it.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  Marcello was there then, behind him, watching us. I felt my heartbeat pick up. “Do not take undue comfort in that old sword,” he said lowly. “As I said, if a knight finds you are willing to use it, you might very well become more of a target.”

  I looked over his shoulder at Lady Rossi, who was staring at us, then back to him. “I’d rather die than be taken.”

  “You might very well have the opportunity to choose,” he muttered. He leaned down, and I caught his smell again—that lovely mix of pine and leather and wood. But he gripped my waist and lifted me up to the saddle. Without looking, he took my heels and slid them into the stirrups, side by side. “No bareback today, m’lady.”

  “I realize that,” I bit back, unable to control my irritation at his I Make the Rules Here attitude. Liking the way his hands felt on the backs of my ankles made me even more irritated.

  He paused and looked up at me. “I’ll have enough to deal with, guarding Lady Rossi. My men are charged with the prisoners as well as Lady Rossi’s ladies-in-waiting. You will ride beside Luca, right behind me. If you break formation or do anything to try my patience at all, I shall send you back here immediately and refuse to take you to Siena for a month. Understood?”

  I clenched my lips and glared at him. “Could you be any more clear?”

  He looked puzzled at my sarcasm.

  “I understand,” I finally said. He left me then, even as Luca rode up. With his sandy hair, green eyes, and quick smile, I knew this one would charm my little sister. She always went for the California surfer-dude types. Luca was about as close as Italy could offer.

  He glanced over at the rest of the girls still getting settled in their saddles. “If I may ask, m’lady, where’d you learn to wield a sword?”

  “My father,” I said.

  “Ahh,” he said, sorrow shadowing his eyes for a moment. “No sons, eh?”

  “My father would’ve taught me to wield a sword, and my sister to shoot her arrows, whether or not he had sons.” I nudged the gelding’s flank and moved away from him, toward the others.

  “Your sister is an archer?” he asked, by my side in seconds, unperturbed by my irritation.

  “She is quite accomplished,” I said. Took State, last year, in the juniors.…

  “I must say, I like h
ow they breed women in Normandy,” he said, cocking a brow. “I do hope we find her in Siena with your mother so we might be properly introduced.”

  “Yes, well, it depends on how much you agitate me in the meantime,” I tossed back at him.

  He nodded and smiled, then instantly sobered when Marcello caught his eye. The young lord was all business, his brown, intelligent eyes flicking over the retinue. I shivered a little at the sheer power of him. I’d never encountered it in a guy so close to my own age.

  He turned toward Lady Rossi and said lowly, “M’lady, I beg you to leave your ladies behind. They are far safer here than on the road between here and Siena.”

  “We have discussed it thoroughly, m’lord,” she said, her tone sweet but her words unbending. “It is unseemly for me to travel without them. They are willing to take the risk.”

  I glanced behind us, back to the women two rows behind me. They did not appear at all willing.

  Stupid, selfish girl, making them do something they don’t want to do. I looked back to Marcello and Lady Rossi. It was not my place to speak. Blend into the walls, Gabi. I reminded myself again. Make ’em forget about you.

  “Take close care, son,” Lord Forelli said, reaching up to take his son’s hand. “We will be anxiously awaiting word from you.”

  “I will send a message as soon as we are in the city, and another as soon as I have any news.”

  My eyes shifted back to a mule that was tied behind the last two guards. Cages with pigeons rested on either side of the mount. Homing pigeons. I had wondered if they were to be lunch, but messenger pigeons made far more sense.

  “Mind the gates while we are gone, Father,” Marcello said.

  A priest came out of the Great Hall, swinging what looked like a tin lamp before him, its sweet smoke trailing in a line and then spreading along the ground. The others bowed their heads, as if in prayer, and the small man chanted in Latin, crossing the air before himself, over and over. He moved down the line, continuing his litany. When he caught my eye, I hurriedly shut mine, whispering my own prayer that he wouldn’t call me out as a heretic among them. But he moved on.