Torrent (32 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

I awakened belatedly, and ran my hand over Marcello’s side of the bed, reaching for him, wanting him to pull me into his arms. Wanting to feel the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest, the steady, strong beat of his heart.

Cold,
my fingers told me, running across the fabric of our covers. Like he hadn’t been there in some time. My eyes sprang open, and I studied the wide, bare expanse of my husband’s side of the bed, then the slant of the sun through the cracks of the shuttered windows.

I could tell from the angle that the sun had been up for one, maybe two hours.

Flames crackled over three logs in the corner fireplace, but the room was still frigid. I tossed aside the heavy covers and glanced around the room. Nothing but my wedding gown, in a pile on the floor where we’d left it. My eyes went to the side wall, the one between my room and Marcello’s room. There, I spied a doorway, subtly hidden among the woodwork and plaster—a doorway I knew I couldn’t see from the other side. I pulled a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around myself and padded over to it, searching for a handle. There was nothing. But on a hunch, I put my palm against it and pressed.

I felt the soft click of an internal mechanism, and the door popped open. I pulled it fully open, grunting at the weight of it, and strode into my room, ditching the blanket and hurrying to my trunks, tossing one gown aside and then another. I needed one that was regal, suitable for the lady of the castle, and yet one that wasn’t too fussy, given that the day might very well entail swordplay. A lady…
Lady Gabriella Forelli,
I thought, trying the name out in my mind.

I settled on the amber gown, conscious that the color echoed the Forelli gold. I liked the feel of the weave of its fabric. It wasn’t so tight as some of my others, giving me more room to breathe, move.

Which was kinda important when a girl was headin’ into battle.

I laughed at my own joke and then donned undergarments and pulled the gown over my head, yanking it into place. Which was the other reason I liked the dress—it was sewn up the back. No buttons. As much as I liked buttons, especially when my husband was undoing them, one after the other, today was not a day for them.

I smiled. I was married. Marcello was mine. Today we undoubtedly had terrible things ahead of us, significant struggles. But I couldn’t help feeling somehow stronger, somehow more ready for it, because of our union. I would fight beside him, as long as he allowed it. I knew he wanted me safe, back in the castle, when the time came. But for as long as I could, I wanted to be with him, helping to keep him safe, just as he wished the same for me.

I raced down the stairs and out the turret door, smiling and nodding at the remnant of the kitchen staff, each of whom nodded back at me with shy, knowing smiles. Something had shifted overnight. I could feel it. They could feel it. I was their lady. I mean, I had always been their lady—claimed by all of Siena, really, as one of the She-Wolves—but now, I was this castle’s Lady, with a capital L. I almost felt like whistling, I felt so happy. I know, right? Totally dorky. But I couldn’t help myself.

When I rounded the Great Hall and entered the castello courtyard, I stopped short. It was a mass of confusion. Horses reared or circled on tight reins, agitated by all the commotion and tension. Men pushed their way forward, carrying heavy supplies on their shoulders—barrels, burlap-wrapped bundles, massive sheaves of wheat. To one side more than fifty men were sparring with swords, most of them stripped to the waist, regardless of the cold. On the other, an equal number were shooting arrows at targets.

Luca was laughing with two men, looking around like he was in his element, when he spied me. He clapped and hollered. “Gentle ladies and humble noblemen,” he called, his breath clouding before his face, “I present to you, Lady Gabriella
Forelli!”

Those within hearing turned and clapped and cheered for me, but the great majority continued in their war preparations. Luca came over to me and kissed my hand. “A good morning to you, cousin-in-law.”

“And a good morning to
you,
cousin,” I returned. “Have you seen my husband about?”

“Your husband,” he said, frowning and tapping his lip as he searched the crowd. “Husband, husband, husband…” He stopped and pointed, smiling at me. “Over yonder is thy husband.”

I saw Marcello then, deep in conversation with six knights who were wearing a coat of arms on their capes I had not seen before. They must’ve arrived overnight, as had perhaps a hundred more men. I playfully nudged Luca with my hip and moved out, leaving him laughing behind me.

I moved among the men, dodging several horses and the swordplay of still more knights. I glimpsed my dad sparring with a knight, his face lighting up as if he understood some new move. My sister, over with the Lerici archers, examining their unique arrows, while five men considered her unique attributes. Mom was nowhere to be seen—perhaps she was in the kitchen, making even more bread than yesterday. And when I looked again to where Marcello had been before, he was no longer there.

I frowned in confusion, glancing about when I didn’t find him, eyeballing every one of the perhaps three hundred people in the courtyard.

“Dare I hope that it’s me you seek?” he said lowly in my ear. I jumped and whirled.

“M’lord!”

“M’lady!” he cried back, teasing me. He grinned and grabbed my hand to haul me to the nearest turret staircase, ignoring the many men who called his name and others who shouted in jest. He opened the door, allowed me to enter, then shut it. A guard was just coming down the stairs, but Marcello yelled up. “Good man, might you remain up top for but a moment?”

The knight caught sight of me, smiled, and then trudged back up the stairs and closed the door. But even before it was shut, Marcello had lifted me in his arms, kissing me with joy more than passion. He was all over the place, kissing my eyebrow, my chin, my nose, my ear, my hair. I laughed and kissed him back, my hands on his broad shoulders, the wide width of his strong back, the narrow of his waist.

“Ah, wife,” he said, at last still, pulling away. “It took everything in me to leave you in my bed.”

“And ’twas a great sorrow to wake without you,” I said.

He touched my chin. “I promise, there will be many days when we shall not leave it at all. But not this day. Come, there is much to tell you, so that you are prepared.” He took my hand, and we climbed the turret, exiting up top, giving the men outside a new reason to cheer. Although our ceremony had been private, our marriage was very public knowledge, just as Marcello had wanted it. The more widely it was broadcast that Lady Gabriella Betarrini was now Lady Gabriella Forelli, the better.

The knight we’d delayed edged past us. “My most sincere congratulations to you both, m’lady, m’lord.”

“Thank you, friend,” Marcello said, patting him on the shoulder as he passed. He took my hand and walked me around the perimeter of the castle, keeping me on the inside in case an enemy archer got a crazy idea he’d like to start this battle sooner than later. I could see that not only had more of Marcello’s band of brothers arrived, but Siena herself had ridden to our defense.

There weren’t the numbers we’d seen the last time full-scale battle had erupted between the cities, but it was a good start. And it was exactly how Marcello wanted it. He didn’t want Paratore too agitated, too alarmed. If the battle went on, more would arrive. I couldn’t forget the columns of men we’d encountered last time, heading to the front lines. But Marcello hoped we could win this so quickly, so decidedly, that the Fiorentini would not even have the chance to call for more men.

And with our peeps hidden inside Castello Forelli’s walls, I thought we might just have that chance.
If they’d arrived without Paratore’s men understanding who they were, what they were capable of, we just might have what we needed. I shivered, glad that it wasn’t me and Lia on the other side of Paratore’s gates. It had been there I received the wound that had ultimately sent me home the first time, far from Marcello. And seeing Paratore again, after Sansicino, after my escape…I knew he’d be bent on taking me down. Lia and Marcello, too, if he could.

I shifted, taking a firmer grasp of Marcello’s hand.
Please, Lord, keep us together this day. Keep us whole. May this first day of our marriage not be the last.

Marcello pointed out the two companies of men from Firenze, who camped outside the enemy castle. I could barely see bits of tent and flags below the castle wall. But Marcello had received the reports. They comprised maybe three to four hundred knights. And they had marched all night to arrive.

Surrounding Castello Forelli, we had three hundred men from Siena, many of who had arrived the day before. And inside we had another three hundred. Marcello grinned at me, knowing that I was putting the numbers together with him. Knowing that we outnumbered them two to one.

I stared outward to the crimson flag dancing in the wind and steeled myself to encounter Lord Paratore again. I’d hoped he was out of my life forever. That he’d retired to the relative safety and peace of Firenze and left this disputed border territory for others to haggle over.

But no. He was back. I could almost feel him, just across the valley.

And I knew that if he had the chance, he would do everything he could not to kidnap me, but to kill me. And he wouldn’t be the only one.

Marcello was right.

Maybe I had to sit this one mostly out.

Our men combed the woods on our side of the border, trying to roust out any scouts come to spy on us. Once they were assured a section was safe, they sent in groups of men, dressed in camouflage colors of tan and green, to hide themselves and stealthily make their way to the border in order to do their own espionage work—or, if the battle began, to surprise our enemies in pockets.

“Scouts returning, m’lord,” called Lutterius, down to Marcello, who was with me in the courtyard. Marcello tensed at my side. It was maybe two in the afternoon. Had it already begun?

The gates opened only three feet wide—we were still attempting to keep our reserve troops a secret from any prying eyes—and two riders came through. Boys, really, a few years younger than I. Middle schoolers. Except they had no such thing in medieval Toscana. Most did not even attend school. Only the very wealthy could afford to hire tutors.

“They have begun, m’lord,” said one, sliding off his horse and only slightly bowing to us both in his excitement.

“What did you see?” Marcello asked.

“Timber,” said the second, coming up behind the first. They had a similar, gangly, long-nosed look—definitely brothers. “They are erecting a platform outside the castello.”

“How many men do they have?”

“By our guess, more than three hundred.”

Marcello nodded, chin in hand. “And did you overhear anything? Any word of more en route?”

“One spoke of a hundred more on their way from Firenze,” said the first. He smiled mischievously. “We were able to creep quite close.”

“Good. Take your fill of food and drink, pack some supplies, and head north to take up a new position. If you see more troops arriving, come and warn us. To do us any good at all, you must arrive at least an hour before they reach Castello Paratore. Understand?”

“It shall be done, m’lord,” said the second boy.

“M’lord,” said the first. They gave Marcello a short bow and headed toward the stables, walking their horses.

I studied Marcello. He was staring into the sky, frowning. “What is it?” I said.

He shook his head and smiled for me. “Ah, nothing specific. It’s only that it seems I’ve battled Paratore and his men ever since I first picked up a sword. And while he is not the greatest military tactician, he is not the fool. Right now it seems that he is walking directly into our trap. Or is that what he wishes us to think?”

I looped my arm through his, and we started to walk among the men in the courtyard. “He believes he’s safe,” I said. “Mayhap he even intends to remain holed up in the castle while the execution takes place. Watch it from the parapets.”

“Nay,” Marcello shook his head, staring at the gates as if he could see through them all the way to Castello Paratore. “He’ll wish to wade into the fray, meet me at the front. We’ve been too long at this, he and I, for him to stand back. He knows as well as I that this is where it comes to an end. That this is the day.”