Torrent (17 page)

The horses rode up alongside us. Two on either side, I thought. If Carsius was up for taking on one, could I possibly bring down three? I had some serious doubts.

“Lord Vivaro has offered a king’s bounty for the capture and return of a woman.”

“Oh?” said Carsius drily. “I have not known Lord Vivaro to be all that interested in women.”

The men laughed at that. “Even so, this was a treasured guest, due to marry another this very night. He would pay dearly for her return. Have you seen her? She is reportedly quite beautiful, with dark hair wound about her head. And dressed in a toga?”

“A toga,” repeated Carsius, all deadpan in his voice. “She should not be difficult to find.”

The man paused. “She is fairly adept in the arts of escape and war. ’Tis Lady Gabriella Betarrini.”

“The She-Wolf of Siena?”

“One and the same. Have you seen her?”

“Nay. But I shall be looking for her now. Mayhap with the ransom, I could purchase a small cottage and take my old age in ease. What is the She-Wolf doing here, in Roma?”

The newcomer paused. “Would you mind if we search your cargo?”

Carsius let out a scoffing laugh. “You think a woman such as Lady Betarrini would be huddled beneath my bags of grain? Nay, she is on a fine, white steed, making her way toward Siena as we speak. It shall be the latest story they tell of her. But if you wish to tarry, by all means, dig through my cargo.”

I almost gasped at his audacious words, although they were perfectly delivered. I tensed, clenching the hilt of my sword, thinking through each move that would bring me fastest to my feet, given the encumbrances of a skirt and the heavy bags of grain—

“Where are you headed, old man?” said the man, gruffly.

“North. Delivering these to the poorhouse.”

“If you spot the lady, and come to us with word, we shall capture her and cut you in for the reward. Agreed? Come to us rather than any of the others. Understood?”

“Indeed, sir.”

They set off, and I sighed in relief. But his words,
rather than any others,
echoed in my mind. There would be a number of men out looking for me tonight, intent on capturing the elusive bride of Lord Greco.

Fan-freakin’-tastic. Just what I needed—a bunch of mercenaries, plus Rodolfo and crew, out on the hunt for me.

Chapter Fifteen

We pulled up about twenty minutes later. I helped Carsius shove the last bag from me and sat up. He glanced around warily, in all directions. “This is as far as I can take you, m’lady, and still get back before the dark becomes too deep.” He offered a hand to help me rise and then climb down.

We were on a hill, in a small grove of Roman pines, and the rubble beneath my feet told me this was once a villa, although precious little remained. The sunset, a deep, rich mix of peach and gold, filtered through the trees to us.

“I am most indebted to you, Carsius,” I said. “You honored me by hiding me and foregoing the bounty hunter’s reward. I shall see you rewarded when I reach Siena.”

He gave me a small smile and nodded once. “’Tis my honor to serve my master, m’lady. No further compensation is needed.” He bent to unhitch the brown gelding from the wagon and brought the animal around toward me. “Besides, Lord Vivaro perturbs me as much as he does my master. It pleases us both to toy with him this night.”

I grinned with him, but his smile faded fast as his eyebrows lowered and his tone intensified. “You must keep off the main road to Siena,” he said. “I saw four more groups of mercenaries about. Cover as much ground as you can at night. Sleep during the day. In two or three days you’ll reach Siena. You can find your way?”

“I can find it,” I said. I felt like a homing pigeon about to be set free. There was no way I
couldn’t
find it. I strapped on the sword and scabbard.

Carsius held out the reins of the gelding to me, and I frowned. “Oh, friend,” I said, “you must take him back.”

“Nay, on the highway I can say I was robbed of my mount, and once inside the city walls, it will be easier for me to steal back to the palazzo on foot. ’Tis m’lord’s wishes for you to be on this fine mount and given this,” he said, reaching into the back of the wagon. He handed me a sack filled with supplies and a skin full of liquid.

“You have been most gracious,” I said, blinking back grateful tears.

He shrugged and gave me one last nod. “Go with God, m’lady. ’Tis an honor to have met the woman behind the legend.”

“Go with God,” I returned. “And do not believe all you hear.”

He lifted a brow, glancing at the sword at my side, and I laughed, caught acting the part of She-Wolf even as I denied it. And then he headed off, down the small road. Rome was several miles distant, and I knew he did not wish to be caught outside the walls come nightfall.
Protect him, God. Keep my protector safe.

I pulled the gelding deeper into the trees and watched as the sun continued to sink, even as I scoured the horizon in all directions for the men of which Carsius had spoken. I could see a small merchant train ahead of Carsius on the main road to Roma, and to the west a group of four men on horses who could very well be one of the mercenary groups. Italia seemed to be filled with men out to make an extra buck or two. With wealthy lords who employed their own forces of knights, men came from as far as Germany to fight for them.
Germania,
I’d heard them call it.

As the sun disappeared, so did any trace of heat, and I pulled Lord Zinicola’s cape closer. It was a dark brown with black embroidery so thick, it made the fabric stiff. I pulled the hood up and over my hair, still miraculously atop my head. And then I looked northward, to where I knew Marcello must be. Had he laid claim to the castello? Or was he on his way south, toward me, even now?

Never had I wanted to see him more. Why was that? Because I feared he thought I had married Rodolfo? Because I’d let Rodolfo kiss me? Or because the whole thing had just confirmed, more than ever, that I was crazy about Marcello?

I shivered, longing for the warmth of his arms around me. Was it only a week ago that we had stood on the portico of San Galgano and watched the sunset? I closed my eyes and remembered him kissing my hair, the heat of his body as he held me, the feeling of never wanting to be apart. He’d been so freaked when he thought I might be in danger the night of the dance in Siena. How was he coping right now?

When the birds ceased their song and the insects of the night began their tune, I cautiously moved out and down the other side of the hill, along a small path I’d picked out as the sun set. From there, by the light of a quarter moon, I made it to a smaller road heading north, a good few miles west of the old Roman road that connected Roma to Siena. It was sound advice for me to steer clear of it, but my only hesitation was that if Marcello and company were heading south to free me, I’d likely miss them.

I wished I knew this country as well as I knew Toscana. Unfortunately most of my experience had been on the A1, the major highway of my own day. That didn’t exactly offer me any great clues as to where I was, other than major landmarks. But I knew enough to hope I might make Orvieto by sunrise, or close to it. If I could do that, I’d be halfway there.

Once I was fairly confident that the road was pretty well maintained, I urged my gelding into a trot, moving along at a quick pace. My eyes were drawn by every movement in the nearby forest, creatures of the night. Now and again, I passed a country villa or cottage, or caught the scent of wood smoke, letting me know that I wasn’t entirely alone. After a while I allowed my horse to ease his pace, and opened my sack of food from Lord Zinicola. I couldn’t see the contents, so I merely reached in and took whatever I touched first.
Dipping for dinner,
I thought to myself.

Dried apricots were first. Beneath them was a layer of almonds. I ate only six of those, reserving the rest for the next day, considering them quick protein. Beneath that was an oatcake. I bit into it, and smiled in pleasure. It was more cookie than bread, with dried berries and nuts embedded in the rich, moist dough. I forced myself to only eat half, saving the rest, and then tied the bag back up and reached for my skin of water, pulling my horse to a stop.

I uncorked the top and tipped the dried skin back. The water, fresh and clean and obviously drawn from the old Roman spring, tasted sweet in my mouth. Apparently Lord Zinicola had better access to drinking skins than Marcello. I’d have to send for a few of these, too, along with the tooth-cleaning supplies,
once I’m outta here.
I took another long gulp, recorked the top, and tied it back onto my saddle.

That was when I noticed the gelding’s ears. They were pricked forward, alert.

I was not alone.

I grabbed the reins and wheeled the horse in a small circle, searching the hills for any sign of company. My eyes hurt, I was looking so hard. Nothing.

But just as I was about to head out, I saw the dim outline of a man astride a horse, ahead of me on the road. I froze.

“Be at peace, m’lady,” he called. “’Tis I, Tomas.”

Tomas? Father Tomas? As in Rodolfo’s priest?

Was this a trick?

“Do not flee. I mean you no harm.”

“Come ahead,” I said, wagering he could see me no better than I could see him. I reached for my dagger and clenched it between my teeth so I could quietly pull out the sword. While I doubted Tomas would do me harm, he had traveled in dangerous company. I scanned the horizon to my right and then my left, wondering if Rodolfo’s men would surround me.

If they did, they’d have to kill me.

Because I was becoming no man’s bride this night.

Tomas neared, riding at an easy pace, and when he got closer, I
saw that he rode bareback. “You are a difficult woman to find,” he
said.

I slipped the dagger back into my waistband. “That is by design.”

“Lord Greco has released me. He said he’d had a vision and thought there might be a pilgrim on the road in need of care.”

I grinned. “He did, did he?”

“Far be it from me to not abide by a vision,” Tomas said, obviously in on the stretch-of-truth too. “I set off immediately. But when I had gone a fair piece, I knew I must have missed you, that you must be taking a route more difficult than the Roman road. The arduous route. The pilgrim’s route.”

I smiled again. “Indeed. I seem to frequently take the most difficult path possible, whether I want to or not. Does that make me a pilgrim?”

We moved off, riding side by side. “Some would say it is so,” Tomas said. “That suffering brings one closer to God. That He allows us to suffer until we’ve learned what we must.”

I thought about that a moment. “Do you believe it?”

“I believe it is always possible to draw closer to our Lord, whether it be during times of suffering or during times of celebration. It is all life, and all of life comes from God.” He paused. “You can sheathe your sword, m’lady. I mean you no harm.”

I wished I could see him clearly. “You are not the bait, the means to lull me into a sense of peace so I do not keep watch for others?”

“Oh, you should fear others, but not Rodolfo’s men. They remain in the city, scouring every corner for a potential hiding place.”

“And the mercenaries about?”

“Sent by Lords Barbato and Vivaro. They were most distraught with your departure. We must outrun them.”

I smiled, feeling pretty proud of myself for my escape, even if I had wrenched my shoulder. I sheathed my sword. “So, Tomas—tell me of what transpired when it became known I was gone.”

“Our host fainted, in time, and was carried to his quarters with much fanfare.”

I laughed. It was one way out of the mess—pretend to faint, and hope the men who were angry with you would just disappear.

“Later he demanded that the party go on, even if there was no wedding—”

“Appeasing his guests.”

“Indeed. No one likely left that party wanting—they were privy to the greatest scandal of the year, Lady Betarrini’s escape, as well as the feast of all feasts at Lord Vivaro’s.”

We rode in silence for a time.

Then I dared, “Do you think I grieved Rodolfo’s heart, Tomas?”

He considered my words. “He was torn, but I am confident you are both on the right path.”

I paused. “Thank you.”

“You understand that the only thing that will keep you safe is to marry Lord Forelli, as soon as possible,” he said.

“Why?”

“It is my assumption,” he said, “that Lord Forelli, being a shrewd man, has sent his men to regain his rightful property. But according to the agreement made at Sansicino, you must become Lord Rodolfo’s bride in exchange for it.”

“Marcello did not agree to those terms. And Fortino’s death…” My voice broke, and I swallowed hard. “His death certainly made it all void, regardless of whether or not Marcello has regained his rightful property.”

“It matters not. Lord Barbato and Lord Ascoli will assure any who ask that
that
was the agreement. When it comes to pass that only one part of the bargain was honored, they’ll come for you
and
the castello.”

I shrugged, even if he couldn’t see me. “They’re going to come for us anyway. It’s inevitable.”

“True enough. And you may be captured. But you could be captured as the bride of Marcello, or the potential bride of Rodolfo. Which would you prefer?”

I thought about it. “I really don’t prefer either option, Father. I wish to enter matrimony when I wish, how I wish.”

“Which is all well and good. But I don’t think you understand me. M’lady, if you are captured again, there shall be no party. You will be hauled before a priest in Roma or Firenze, an arrow at your throat, and forced to exchange vows with Lord Rodolfo. Then four lords of the grandi will ensure that those vows are properly consummated.”

My eyes widened.

“It is not a matter of morals as much as it is of politics. And you see, m’lady, you have pressed the lords of Firenze to great lengths. If captured, you will be held by the surest means possible—consummated vows. Or they will see you dead.”

I swallowed hard. “And…if I was Marcello’s wife?”

“It would give you reasonable protection. At best they would hand you over immediately in exchange for prisoners that they want. At worst…” He shook his head.

“That was not what transpired for Fortino.”

“Nay, but he did not comply with any of their demands. From beginning to end, he refused every request. And as a lady of Siena, the wife of one of the Nine—to hold you then would be to invite far more than Siena’s faithful to attack Firenze’s walls.”

I let that sink in. But I was thinking of his words,
He did not comply with any of their demands.
Tomas thought I might be different from Fortino.

I might be. I might cave as soon as one of them
thought
about torturing me. But maybe not. Maybe I’d hold strong, stay true to the cause. And yet I couldn’t make it through what he’d endured, if I was honest with myself. The floggings? The taking of an eye? And I didn’t think I had it in me to be killed rather than marry Rodolfo. I’d give in to that, choose life over death, even if I had to be with a man I didn’t love as I did Marcello.

For a moment I thought again of Rodolfo, of his kiss. I shook my head and blinked, trying to wake from my silly daydream.
You are meant for one man, Gabi. One.