Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (14 page)

Except for a few riders, probably commercial couriers accompanied by armed guards, they were the only group on the hazardous road beyond Borgo San Lorenzo, where they gave two performances. Antonia, Maria, and Anna, as well as Pietro, expressed their apprehension. A deserted road increased the danger of bandits striking them.

The road past Scarperia, home of cutlers, climbed steadily up to Giogo di Scarperia, the first of two passes over the Apennines, hard going even with the help of the horse. In places, it was barely passable with the carts and their progress was slow. They had to set up camp in an abandoned barn before they reached the top and were even reluctant to light a fire in case it would draw undesirable attention on them.

Shortly after crossing the summit, the watershed between the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Adriatic, Alda alerted the troupe to a group of six riders descending at a fast pace from the pass. Even from that distance Chiara could see that they were well-armed. They would catch up with them within minutes.

"Lorenzo, do you think they are bandits?" she called out.

Maria and Anna immediately began to lament.

"I don’t know." His face betrayed both unease and indecision.

"I think we should ready our weapons." She was already retrieving the longbows and arrows from the cart. "Here, Lorenzo, Carlo. Take this one Giovanni. Pepe, ready your knives."

"Chiara, are you out of your mind? What can we do against six well-armed men? If we resist, they might kill us all."

"You would rather just go to the slaughter like lambs?"

"I’m the leader and I say we wait. If they are robbers and get what they want without a fight, they usually don’t harm their victims."

"You are the corago of I Magnifici, but I am the daughter of a knight, and I am not going down without a fight. I’ve heard dozens of blow-by-blow accounts of skirmishes and battles. And these fellows will be careless because they expect an easy prey. So we have the element of surprise on our side. We can beat them. Just do as I say." Each word pronounced like the blow of a hammer. The hard expression in her face left no doubt that she was not even allowing him to challenge her. "Come on, fellows, there’s no time to lose."

The players looked from her to Lorenzo. When he took the longbow she was still proffering to him, Carlo and Giovanni followed.

"My plan is simple. Pepe remains with the carts, pretending to fix something, his knives ready. Pietro and Alda, are you willing to be near him?"

Pietro was already shaking his head, but when he saw Alda nod, he uttered a reluctant "yes".

"Antonia, Maria, and Anna hide in the forest. Find a thick stem each. And we four position ourselves just at the edge of the first trees up there, where they can only see us when they are right below. Each of us has an arrow ready to shoot. But nobody shoots before I call out ‘now’. This is very important. We have to let them get close enough not to miss, and we don’t want to attack them if they turn out to be friendly. And remember, they might be wearing chain mail, so you have to aim at the face, an arm or leg and even better, the flanks of their horses so that they lose control over them. I will target the first."

"I’ll stay with Alda," muttered Antonia. "I’m too old to hide in the forest."

"That’s good. The more people around the cart, the less suspicious it will look. And now, let’s do it. Pepe, do you know your role? Look busy, but ready to throw your knives at their faces. If they attack with swords, duck behind or under the carts. And pass me two of your knives, please."

A few minutes later, Chiara heard the dull pounding of hooves, suddenly joined by the barking of dogs. Chiara had not figured with that.

She called out to Pepe: "If the dogs attack, use your knives. Don’t wait for my call."

Adrenalin was pumping through her veins, raising her alertness.
I should have been born a boy
, went fleetingly through her mind.

Two black mongrel dogs came racing around the bend in the road, closely followed by the galloping riders. They drew their swords when they saw the carts. The dogs immediately ran for the four people. Alda and Pietro dragged Antonia behind the cart, while Pepe turned, two knives in his hands.

When the first dog was twenty paces away, he threw. The dog rolled, howling, trying to get back on his feet. Chiara’s knife hit the other one a second later. He tumbled over several times and came to rest at Pepe’s feet. The big man only looked dumbfounded at the animal.

The knife had hardly left her hand when she had her longbow ready again. As the first rider reined his horse to a skidding halt, shouting: "You’ll pay with your life for that!", she cried "now". A split second later, her arrow found its target, the rider’s neck. He slid from his saddle without a sound. The second steed reared violently, throwing its rider. A third horse crashed heavily to the ground, crushing its rider underneath. The other three bandits were now in disarray. Two ripped their animals around sharply and galloped away. The last one fell off his horse, screaming, a knife embedded in his face. Pepe and Pietro rushed the two who had fallen off their horses and wrestled their swords away.

The whole action was over in less than twenty seconds.

The five men of the troupe looked at each other and at Chiara, stunned, speechless.

"Get hold of those horses," she cried, running in front of one who had turned to follow the bandits, while Carlo and Giovanni caught the other two, one limping slightly.

Alda ran from behind the cart and hugged her.

"Oh, Chiara, I was so scared."

"All is fine,
mamina
," said Chiara and patted her back.

Through tears, Alda murmured: "You’ve never called me that."

"But that’s how I feel. That’s what I want you to be."

"You are like my own daughter,
carina
."

They separated and Chiara said in a somber tone to nobody in particular: "I killed again." But she was also aware that it did not affect her in the same way as the first time. Then she had not done it intentionally. It had been more by accident, by not considering the consequences of where she had aimed. This time, she had done it with intent.
Have I become that hard and callous in this short time?
she wondered.

"Chiara, what are we going to do with these two?" asked Lorenzo, pointing at the two on the ground, with Pepe and Pietro holding a sword over each.

One of the two still had a knife piercing through both cheeks. She went over to him and pulled the blade out. He yelled, but she ignored it.

"I suggest we strip them of their armor, boots, and outer clothing and send them packing. And we better do it fast. We want to be on our way promptly before the two who got away come back with help." She glanced at the yelping dogs. "Pepe, will you please finish off those poor animals?"

"You think we might be attacked again," asked Lorenzo.

"Possible. We can question these two." She turned back to them. "How far away is your hideout?"

The uninjured one glared at her defiantly. She went closer, pulling the second of Pepe’s knife from her belt.

"I asked you a question. Answer!" Her tone of voice left little doubt that she was serious.

"Scarperia, about four hours hard riding," he muttered.

"Do you take me for a fool? The truth, or you’ll have this knife in your face like him."

"An hour on the other side of the pass —"

She raised the knife, ready to strike.

"— don’t please," he yelled, holding up his arms protectively, "just beyond the pass."

She scrutinized his face for a few seconds. "And the next settlement this way?" She raised her hand again a bit.

"If you hurry, about an hour."

She turned back to the players. "Alright. Lorenzo, Carlo and Giovanni, rig up two of those horses to the small carts, and then get going as fast as you can, while Pepe, Pietro and I take care of those two."

They followed her order without a word and soon disappeared down the road. While Pietro removed the armor and outer clothing of the two bandits still alive, she and Pepe stood guard. Finally they stripped the one she had killed, but did not bother with the one lying under his horse.

"You killed a Baglione. You won’t get away. They’ll pursue you to the end of the world," yelled one of the bandits, as she and her two companions hurried to catch up with the other players while leading the limping horse.

"Did he say ‘Baglione’?" queried Pepe.

"Yes, why?" replied Chiara.

"The Baglione are notorious and feared bandits who have plagued the mountains for ages. If we killed one of theirs, they’ll want revenge."

"She killed him, not us," complained Pietro. "She’s always getting us into trouble."

Chiara opened her mouth to protest, when Pepe said: "So far it has been rather the other way round. She got us out of trouble. Twice already."

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Pepe."

"But the fellow said that their hideout is just over the pass and we’re still more than an hour from the next town?" Pietro moaned.

"Yes, even for horses, the pass is more than half an hour away, and they’ll take time to get ready. We’ll make it. Stop worrying and walk faster."

A quarter hour later they caught up with the others and shortly afterward saw a church tower in the distance. It took them another half-hour to reach the monastery of Benedictine monks.

Barking dogs greeted them. The lay brother guarding the gate refused to let them in. Traveling players were not welcome. Only when Chiara pleaded with a very pious demeanor that they were God-fearing and performed religious plays to strengthen the faith of the common people, and that the Baglione bandits were on their tail, was he willing to consult with the abbot. After an agonizing wait of several minutes, they were admitted, and the heavy gate was again firmly locked behind them. They were barely inside when she heard a group of riders gallop past. Peering through a gap, she counted eight horses.

They stayed three nights at the monastery. The abbot asked them to present a religious play to his brothers and the troupe spent the first day frantically adapting the only such play they knew to fit the creed of the order. It portrayed no hilarity, only pious devotion, and they were sent on their way with the abbot’s blessing and good wishes.

Their struggles were not over yet by a long shot. After Firenzuola and Covigliaio, they had to go over the Raticosa Pass before the road descended slowly the twelve leagues to Bologna, more or less staying on the crest of the hill between two rivers, with only a couple of villages.

* * * 

After the incident on the pass, Lorenzo’s conduct toward her changed in subtle ways. He stopped treating her as the clever girl whom he liked to indulge in her whims. Now, whenever important decisions needed to be made, not only on things dealing with their performances, but on financial or other planning matters, he consulted her. It felt reaffirming. She also noticed that the men tended to treat her as one of them, except for Pietro who now often directed his constant complaints at her. Even Maria and Anna lumped her together with the men. Giovanni gave up on his unsuccessful quest to bed her. She almost regretted it. It had been good fun to spar with him occasionally.

They reached Bologna in the middle of November, sold their loot and the three captured horses — Antonia had nursed the wounded one back to health — and gave performances for two weeks. It took Chiara a few days before she caught on to the northern vernacular, different from her Tuscan one. In Ferrara, they were invited to play
Phormio
in the Palazzo d’Este, the seat of the Signori of the town. By then they were accustomed to lodging in expensive inns where the innkeeper did not begrudge them the wood to keep warm by the fire in the common room.

However, Venice, no more than two weeks away, eluded them. They learned that the Council of Ten had banished all mountebanks, jongleurs and acrobats, traveling troubadours and players, and other itinerants from the city. Lorenzo and Chiara visited the Venetian Emissary in Ferrara who, in a voice laced with disdain, declared that not even a special invitation by a member of the Great Council would get them there, that the Council of Ten wanted to purify the city of all licentiousness and ungodly behavior so often deliberately promoted by traveling players, that in his view they were the lowest of the low, who were destined to burn in hell in the afterlife and, therefore, should also be shunned in this life.

There was no point waiting out the winter in the harsh northern plains in the hope that the edicts might be rescinded. With the weather turning unseasonably cold, Lorenzo opted for the milder climate of the Adriatic coast, Rimini, maybe even go farther south to Ancona, where they would stay till spring when the mountain passes could again be traversed.

It was an unhappy troupe that braved the freezing wet of the marshes on to Ravenna, where the holy Christmas season prevented them from performing. There were disturbing rumors of a deadly plague killing thousand of people in ports in the eastern Mediterranean, in Malta, and Sicily.

In Rimini, they took advantage of the carnival festivities and enjoyed full crowds, their pocket filling again. Two weeks later, they were once more on their way south, taking in the coastal towns of Gradara, Pesaro, and Fano.

9

The Marches, February 1348

I doubt I would still be around to tell this tale if the Venice authorities had not prevented us from visiting their city, leaving us little choice but to go south along the Adriatic cost to escape the worst of the northern winter. Not that they would have put us to death. No, something else that showed neither mercy nor discrimination between the good and upright and the bad and condemned was stalking the world. If I still believed in prayer, I would pray to God and the saints that such a scourge never visits the earth again.

It hit us completely unprepared. Taking advantage of the last few days of festivities before the beginning of Lent, we had performed for three days in the Piazza del Mercato in Fano, a small fortified city which can trace its beginnings back to Roman times. One day we faced a throng of people, the next day only a handful showed up. Before we had even finished preparing the stage, guards from the bishop marched into the piazza and ordered us to leave the city forthwith. We had to be outside the gates by sundown. All our entreaties to know the reason for this punishment fell on deaf ears. What had we done to be chastised in this way, because that was what it felt like?