Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (51 page)

"Do not move, and nothing more will happen to you. I will look after your wound."

His gaze turned back to the knife handle. She scrambled down on his side of the outcrop and quickly checked the three men lying half in the water, half on its stony banks. Two were dead. She did not even have to check for a pulse. Her last victim was in the last stage of his death-rattle. He stopped while she stood over him.

"Are they dead?" His voice was only a whisper.

"Yes… Dismount."

He again looked at the knife, seemingly unsure of what to do.

"I’ll look at it in a moment and may be able to take it out and stop the bleeding, and then you have to help me."

He carefully dismounted. She opened his shirt. He was no taller than she and not wearing mail. The knife had only penetrated half a hand-width, not deep enough to touch any vital parts.

 "Take a deep breath."

As he hid, she pulled out the knife, and stuck it under her belt. He winced, watching the blood trickle from the wound. She put her thumb and index of her right hand on each side of the wound and pressed together, saying at the same time: "Do this and hold it to stop the bleeding. Use your left hand."

He did as told. She was touched by his trust.

"Do any of you have any grappa?"

"Yes, Ser Piero has a flask."

"Which one is Ser Piero?"

He pointed with his right to her last victim. A shudder of terror shook his hand.

She wondered whether she should check the man’s pockets, but shuddered herself at the thought and instead went for his saddle bag, where she found a pint flask.

"Come, Master Luigi."

He followed her. "You know my name?"

"Yes, I saw you in Casa Sanguanero. And now you have to help me. Your wound is not serious and will heal if it does not infect. So, when I tell you, you let go and help the injured young man up there when I lower him down to you. You have to help him find good foot rests, maybe even support his feet yourself. Got that?"

He nodded. She climbed up. Jacomo was lying on his back, breathing hard. With the arrow still embedded in his right shoulder, he had lost little blood so far.

"You have to come down. I’ll hold you by the left arm. There’s a lad down there to guide you with your footing."

She helped him up. He closed his eyes for a moment, his face contracting painfully. Then he went slowly down backward, with Luigi helping him place his feet. Once down, she cut away his blouse and inspected the wound, while at the same time telling Luigi to press his own wound together again.

The arrow had embedded itself deep in Jacomo’s shoulder and had come to rest against a bone. She was in a quandary about what to do. Remove it, ripping the wound open even more and causing severe bleeding, or leave it in until she could get him to their house and have Alda help?

"Please, Chiara, take it out," he begged when he saw her hesitation.

"It will hurt terribly… Here, drink this, as much as you can. It may numb the pain a bit."

She handed him the open flask. He took several big swallows and then started coughing, spilling some of the liquid over his wound, not quite managing to suppress a moan.

"I’m sorry, Jacomo. … Sit now. If I want to take it out, I’ve to do it fast, or else I’ll not see enough."

She again inspected the way the arrow was sitting.
If I take it out like this I’ll rip the flesh.

"Jacomo, I will make a small cut so that it will be easier to take the arrow out. All right?"

He only nodded, his eyes still closed. She took the knife that had been in Luigi’s chest and noticed that it was still full of blood. Not wanting to waste time to clean it in the creek, she poured grappa over it and wiped it off on the Jacomo’s blouse. Then she placed the knife on the muscle above the entrance and slid down along the shaft of the arrow making a clean cut just the width of the double-edged blade. Jacomo bravely fought the urge to scream, biting down on his teeth.

"Now," she whispered and started to pull on the arrow gently, gently. After a short resistance, it slid out cleanly from the enlarged opening. A steady trickle of blood was seeping out. She cut a piece of cloth from his tattered blouse and held it tightly onto the wound.

"Press this on it. Try moving your arm a bit?" She wanted to discover if the bone was broken. He moved the elbow out. "Does it hurt worse?"

He shook his head.

"Good, then maybe no bones are broken. Do you trust yourself to ride home, pressing this on the wound all the time?"

"I must."

"Oh, Jacomo, you are so brave." She kissed his cheek. "Once home you’ll be all right, I promise."

She turned to the young man who had watched her intently. "And you, Master Luigi, have no choice but to do the same. And don’t try to escape."

"Yes, Lady Chiara," he murmured and went to his horse.

She helped Jacomo onto his mount, almost lifting him up by his right foot, while he used his left hand to steady himself. She caught the piece of cloth that he had dropped and gave it back to him. Then she quickly fetched the three riderless horses and, holding on to their reins, mounted her own steed, saying: "Jacomo, lead the way. Master Luigi ride beside him and if you see that he is close to fainting, you yell."

* * * 

It took them well over an hour before they reached Castello Gianbucca. Except for the occasional "Are you holding up, Jacomo?" they did not talk. By that time it was dark.

She dismounted. "You two wait for me to get help."

Pepe and Veronica must have heard them coming. They were already at the door.

"Why are you so late?" questioned Pepe.

"Jacomo is gravely hurt," she shouted. "Pepe, help him down. You Veronica, look after Master Luigi."

"What happened," cried Veronica, running to her brother.

"Veronica, later. Let Pepe help Jacomo. You help Master Luigi, please."

While Pepe lifted Jacomo off the horse and carried him into the house, she ran ahead and prepared the mattress they had put into the downstairs hall for Alda’s use during the daytime. Pepe put him down gently, but even so, Jacomo fainted, having spent all his will and energy to remain upright in the saddle. The wound started bleeding again. Alda, efficient as always, was already heating water to prepare a strong solution of chamomile, something old Antonia had always done when one of the troupe had an open wound. When it was ready, Chiara cleaned the blood away around the wound and the opening itself, and then pressed a clean piece of cloth on it to stop the bleeding.

"Alda, there were some comfrey leaves when we moved in, just at the far corner of the house. Will you check if there are any left and bring enough for both?"

Just then Pepe came back in, having taken care of the horses, and lit a torch at the fire to help Alda. Chiara watched Veronica clean Luigi’s cut with the camomile disinfectant. The lad was sitting at the table. He still seemed to be in a state of shock.

She turned back to Jacomo, watching how he clenched his jaws to endure the pain, to prevent himself from crying out, as any normal sixteen-year-old would. She admired his strength of will and vowed that she would not rest until he was well again. He had filled the empty place her older brother had left in her heart. She was not going to lose this one too. He opened his eyes and met hers.

"We’re home. Everything will be fine. You’re so brave, Jacomo. I’ll look after you, make you well again."

He closed his eyes, the shadow of his smile briefly on his face. By then, Alda had found some comfrey leaves and started preparing a poultice, using one of her fine cotton scarves. Chiara hoped that despite the age of the leaves, they still would keep the wound from infecting, her biggest fear. If they could prevent that, Jacomo was sure to recover fast. Veronica joined them, stroking her brother’s hair.

"Chiara, will you now tell us what happened?" asked Alda.

"We had some business in Chiusi — I’ll tell you later what — and about halfway to here, we noticed that we were pursued by four riders." She gave them a terse account of how they had tried to hide and how Jacomo got wounded.

"Then I recognized this young man, Master Luigi, the son of Lord Grifonetto Baglione of Perugia. I had seen him in Casa Sanguanero. I stopped my knife at the last moment."
I could not kill a young man, barely more than a boy,
but she did not voice that.

"So the Baglione have caught up with us," murmured Alda.

"Maybe, maybe not." She turned to Luigi, who was sipping a cup of hot chicken broth that Veronica had prepared for him earlier. "Master Luigi, tell me why you followed us."

He bashfully lowered his gaze and said in a low voice: "I recognized you when you rode past the Taverna al Lione in Chiusi and told Ser Piero. Then we found out which way you had left Chiusi and followed you."

Pepe glowered at him, while Veronica’s face expressed her horror.

"And what were you doing in Chiusi?"

"We had heard that you had been in Arezzo and Cortona and then discovered that you had not gone to Perugia, as you had told the innkeepers there, but gone south to Chiusi."

"So you were searching for me."

He nodded, not looking up.

"Are there others searching for me?"

"Yes, Niccolo Sanguanero has taken six men to the coast."

"Anybody else?"

"No."

"Are you telling the truth? … Master Luigi, look at me so I can tell whether you are lying or not. Nobody else?"

He raised his gaze, two vulnerable, frightened eyes met hers. He again said softly "no". She was convinced that he was telling the truth.

"And what were you supposed to do if you caught up with me?"

"My father, Lord Baglione, ordered us to bring you to him. He wanted to talk to you about the murder of two distant cousins of his."

"Why does he think that those murders have anything to do with me?"

"A traveling player who said that he was once the arlecchino of I Magnifici claimed that you killed Gianfranco Baglione and that he had told this to Giuseppe Baglione, who was found dead in Assisi shortly a few days later."

"Carlo, that bastard," muttered Pepe.

"Yes, Master Luigi, I killed a road bandit on the Giogo di Scarperia who wanted to rob us, and in an inn in Assisi I killed another man in self-defense who claimed to be a Baglione. I did not seek out either of them. One was a common robber who would have ended at the gallows, the other a foul-mannered cutthroat. The Baglione family can hardly be proud of them."

He flinched as she spoke these words, as if she had whipped him.

"What are you going to do with me? Are you going to kill me too?"

"I have nothing against you. You seem to be a nice young man who hopefully will lead a useful life, nor do I want to cause more bad blood between your side of the Baglione and the da Narni family. You will stay with us as our guest. When your wound has healed, I will restore you to your parents. As soon as you can use your right hand properly again, you will write a letter to your father, telling him what happened to you and that in time you will come home again." She paused, locking eyes with him. "You will also give me your word of honor that you will not try to leave here without my permission."

He tried to get up, swaying a bit and then fell to his knees. "I give you my word of honor, Lady Chiara. I will not try to escape."

"I accept your word, Master Luigi, and it is not becoming of you to kneel in front of me. Now I think you should get the rest that you need to recover from what happened today. Jacomo, is it all right if he sleeps in your room tonight?"

He opened his eyes. She repeated her question and he nodded.

"Would you like to eat something first?"

The lad shook his head.

"Veronica, please prepare Master Luigi another drink. Make it a chamomile tea with lots of honey; that will be healthy … and add a lot of that willow bark that Antonia left us. It may reduce the pain. Make enough for Jacomo too."

After he had finished the drink, Pepe showed him to the outhouse and, before taking him up to Jacomo’s room, Alda applied a small poultice on his wound, instructing him to make sure it stayed there. Then she joined Chiara. "He’ll be all right. The wound looks clean, no redness, and he doesn’t have a fever."

All the while, Chiara had pressed Jacomo’s wound closed. She now gradually released the pressure and lifted the piece of cloth. The bleeding had stopped. She helped Alda arrange the poultice. Veronica was again stroking his hair. He briefly looked at her, bravely trying to smile.

"Veronica, will you bring that tea for Jacomo … and make another chamomile for me too, please."

She remained sitting on the floor next to Jacomo, holding his left hand. He opened his eyes and sought hers. They had a feverish shine. She touched his forehead. It felt hot.

"Does it still hurt badly?"

He nodded again. "There’s a constant throbbing," he murmured.

Veronica brought Jacomo’s tea.

"Here, you must drink this. It will give you some nourishment and relieve the pain a bit."

She helped him sit up and he slowly drank the sweet strange mixture.

"Do you need to relieve yourself? Pepe can help you,"

He nodded, blushing. While they were outside, she filled a bucket with cold water and carried it next to the bed. Veronica was watching her, anxiously.

"Does he have a fever? He cannot die. Please, Chiara, don’t let him die." She broke into sobs.

"Yes, he has a fever, and I will not let him die. I’ll stay here with him all night. Will you bring me one of our blankets for him?"

The girl rushed upstairs, eager to do anything that might help.

When Pepe returned, carrying Jacomo, she helped him lie down, checked the poultice again, and then covered him with the blanket Veronica had brought. She saw that Pepe was bringing in another load of wood for the fire, enough to keep it going all night.
Dear old Pepe, he loves the lad as much as I do.

"Alda, why don’t you and Pepe now try to get some rest too. I’ll call you if I need help … and you Veronica, please do the same."