Torrent (35 page)

And then I heard the scrape of another stone upon the catapult.
Seriously?
I thought. I wanted to scream. Was Marcello not there to stop it? Could he not see us here, atop the front gates, fighting to stay alive? Did he not see
me?

I couldn’t make it through another impact. I’d already fallen a good eight feet. Below me was a hole…Even if I survived, falling the remaining thirty feet would make me wish I was dead.

There was no choice.

“All right,” I ground out, meeting Paratore’s gaze. “I’m reaching for your hand on the count of three.” He sheathed his sword and reached for me. “One, two, three.”

I didn’t think about it, couldn’t think about it. I turned and grasped for Paratore’s hand even as I was again sliding. He grabbed me, and for a moment I hung, suspended, legs dangling over the hole. I felt the draft of cold up my skirts, the distance to the ground like I had some sort of radar-sensors.

“Tempting,” he grunted, “but I have use for you yet.” He glanced up and over at Rodolfo, his voice strained with the effort of holding me. “Back away! Drop your weapons and back away, or I’ll drop her!”

I held my breath, wondering how long he could hold me. If he’d even have the strength to lift me. But he did then, hauling me upward and into his arms, then up the two steps to safety. He deposited me on my knees, clenching my hair in his fist. “Forelli!” he roared, back over the wall. “I demand to see Marcello Forelli! Tell him I have his bride!”

He wound another coil of my hair around his hand and hauled me to my feet, pushing me to the edge of the front wall. “Bring Lord Forelli to the light!” he screamed.

“I am not down there,” Marcello growled from behind us, to the left, “but rather in the shadows of your own perch.”

Paratore automatically whirled, leaving me behind him, but his hand was still wound in my hair. Ten of the Lerici archers were behind Marcello, on the wall, arrows pointed at Paratore.

“’Tis over, Cosmo,” Marcello said. “Release Gabriella and step away from her.”

Paratore cried out and turned, ripping me in the opposite direction, throwing me off balance. Tossing me aside. I heard the thrumming sound of arrows released, closed my eyes, once again preparing myself for impact…

I wasn’t hit. But I was falling again, now bumping down the opposite side of the crosswalk, toward the hole again—

I saw Marcello dive above me and Rodolfo dive above him. Then Father Tomas. Marcello grabbed my hand, pulling me to an abrupt stop, and when we both began to fall, Tomas grabbed him. Rodolfo fell across the chasm, shoulder first, taking a firm hold on Tomas.

I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my legs dangling again. Over way too much space.

Two more faces appeared above the other men, both grunting and gasping for breath, trying to hold on. The archers. Then Luca, eyes wide. “Hold on!” he cried.

I could feel my wrist slipping in Marcello’s hand. I looked up at him in horror, and then felt sadness, such sorrow, sorrow that this was the way it was to end.

“Hold on, Gabriella,” he grunted, upside-down, pulling with everything he had. But he was in the wrong position to save me. I could see it. He could see it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“I love you,” I gasped, having trouble breathing well, let alone speaking, as I hung there. “I’ve always loved you.”

He cried out in frustration, red-faced, veins bulging from the effort at trying to pull me upward.

“Marcello!” Tomas cried, sounding like he was about to lose his grip. “Don’t move!”

“She’s slipping!” Marcello yelled, his voice tinged in panic. He looked at me with such extreme grief, it made me want to weep. “Gabriella…
nay
.”

“Marcello. I know. My fault. Mine, for being here.” I didn’t want him to blame himself for what was about to happen.

“Gabriella!” Luca called, tossing down a rope with a loop at the bottom.

I glanced at it, six inches from our hands. If Marcello released me, could I grasp hold of it? Before I fell? Did I have the strength to hold it, or would I slide too far? Miss it altogether?

Marcello could see my dilemma. “Tomas, Rodolfo! Let us go.”

“Let you go?” Rodolfo grunted. “Are you mad?”

“’Tis the only way to reach the rope,” Marcello coaxed. “Now,” he said, his voice suddenly all commando. “
Now!”

Marcello slid toward me, even as I started to fall, but in the process, he gained a better grip on my wrist, as I did on his. He reached out with his right hand as we gained momentum, and I knew we had one chance—just one chance—and felt a grief pierce me that I hadn’t felt since Fortino, since Dad…

I was not only falling to my death. I was taking my husband with me.

I felt a tug again and swung toward the wall, my feet touching the splintered wood of the gate, and then moving outward. I looked up and let out a breath of total wonder as we swung. Together. Alive.

Marcello held me anew. In a grip that said
I. Shall. Not. Let. Go.

The men lowered us down to the ground, and when my feet were on it, Marcello released me. I knelt and inhaled the scent of dirt and stone, so glad to be on it. In reality I didn’t think my shaky knees could hold me upright. Marcello leaned down and covered me with his body, hugging me, sheltering me. “Ahh, Gabriella,” he moaned.

Trembling, I rose up to my knees, and he pulled me into his arms for a brief hug, then lifted me to my feet. With one arm around me, holding me up, he moved toward the men down below. Behind us I could hear shouts and cries and gradually remembered that a battle was still taking place.

When my knees gave way, Marcello bent and swept me into his arms. He turned and looked to the parapets high above us—so high, I could barely look at them, too close to my Near Death Experience. But above, two flaming arrows crossed in the sky, a signal. And then I saw the long ropes, the last of the Lerici knights making their way down, and on the ground, my mother, sister, Rodolfo, Tomas—

“Our people are safe!” Marcello cried, a couple of minutes later. “Take down those gates, once and for all!”

A hundred feet away the Sienese cheered and launched the next stone missile directly at Castello Paratore’s splintered gates.

At last I dared to say, “My…my father’s body. Marcello—”

“His body?” he said with a frown, turning me toward him. “Gabriella, he is not dead.” He shook his head, but he was smiling. “He suffered a terrible wound, yes. But he will recover.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. “In truth?” I asked.

“In truth.”

But I was already moving away from him.

Toward my mother, my sister, and the group of men carrying the man in a blanket between them.
Dad
.

Chapter Thirty-two

“Dad.
Dad,
” I said, falling to my knees beside him. The men, satisfied that we were far enough away from Castello Paratore’s gates, set him down.

“Gabi,” he said, reaching out to touch my face. He smiled weakly and looked over at Mom and Lia on the other side. “All my girls, safe,” he breathed.

“Oh, Dad. I—I—you’re okay? You’re really okay?”

“He’ll be okay, Gabs,” Mom said. “A good cleaning, some sutures…” She reached across him to hold my hand. “He’ll be all right.”

I looked to Lia, and with one glance to her baby blues puddling in tears, I lost it. They were all here. All safe. Whole. Or almost.

Thank You, God. Thank You. Thank You thank You thank You thank You…

I cried like I was weeping for Dad the first time he died. For all of us, like we’d just died and come back to life. From fear, from exhaustion, from relief, from gratitude. Sheer gratitude. And Mom and Lia cried too, hugging each other, then coming around to wrap me in their embrace as well.

Marcello edged in and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. After a moment he said, “Gabriella, let them take him now, no? Back to the castello, where your mother and the others can see to him?”

“Yes,” I said through my tears, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “Yes,” I repeated, now feeling foolish for keeping him from their care at all.

The men lifted him immediately and hurried off, a regiment of soldiers closing in to flank them, protect them on the way back to Castello Forelli. Mom and Lia were right behind Dad. I started after them but then hesitated and looked back.

Marcello stood there, Rodolfo and Luca behind him, in the flickering torchlight. He lifted his chin and grinned. “Go on, wife. Your part in this battle is done. See to your father. And we shall see this through.”

Luca and Rodolfo nodded, hands on their belts. I knew Marcello was in safe hands. And I…well, I had had it.

I was scary tired. Hurting. Barely able to stand.

Bleary-eyed, I saw Marcello motion to some men, and in a minute they brought horses over for us. He lifted me up to a mare’s broad, bare back and wrapped my hand in her mane. “Go home, beloved,” he said. “I will meet you there.”

I wanted to stay. With him. To help.

But deep inside I knew I’d serve us all best if, this time, I just did as he asked.

I awakened stiff and freezing cold on the stone floor of the castle. Squinching my eyes, I pushed myself up, hit my head on the crossbeam of a bed, and gingerly made my way upright.

“That had to hurt,” Dad mumbled, peeking at me for a sec from one eye, then closing it again as if it pained him. He was under the covers. Mom was asleep in a chair in the corner, Lia by her side.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, rubbing my head. But it was the least of my worries. “How are you?”

“Just great, thanks,” he said, opening his big, brown eyes again. He was pale, but looking good, considering. “Pretty much like any other morning of my life. Except, oh, right”—he raised his brows—“I watched my daughters and wife take on knight after knight at an enemy castle—and survive. And oh, save a bunch of people too. That was cool. The only downer was that I took a sword through the back and my wife had to stitch me up. And we had to leave my son-in-law behind to—”

His eyes moved from me to the doorway behind me, and in that instant I knew Marcello was there. I turned and smiled. He was dirty—seriously covered in filth and sweat—but I swear I’d never seen a more handsome man in my life. He reached out and helped me to my feet. I groaned, feeling every pulled muscle and fresh bruise in my body. But I forgot all of that as Marcello wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close, kissing my temple and hair and holding me as if he never wanted to let me go.

I could hear Mom and Lia rustling behind me, and I saw Rodolfo and Tomas and Luca behind Marcello. They were all back. Safe. I pulled back. “It’s over?”

“It is over,” Marcello said gently, pushing a coil of hair behind my ear. “The Fiorentini are now five miles beyond Castello Paratore. My men shall see they stay there.” Leaving an arm around my shoulders, he stepped toward Dad. “Sir, I am glad to see you on the mend.”

Dad gripped his outstretched hand. “As am I,” he said with a grin.

“Well, if you encounter further trouble, I am aware of a certain tunnel that has certain healing powers—”

“Impossible,” I said. “Dad shall have to be at death’s door in order for me to leave you again.”

“A suitable threshold,” Dad said.

“Death is always nearby.” I paused and looked around the room, at Mom and Lia and Marcello and Luca and Rodolfo and Tomas. “Let’s embrace this life we’ve been given.
Life,
Marcello,” I said, squeezing him tight and then drawing back to stare into his eyes. “Let us live like we’re celebrating, every day.”

“Together,” he said, tucking the strand of hair behind my ear again and cradling my cheek. He looked at me with such love it brought tears to my eyes. He bent his forehead to touch mine. “
Together
.”

“Together,” I whispered.

… a little more …

When a delightful concert comes to an end,
the orchestra might offer an encore.
When a fine meal comes to an end,
it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.
When a great story comes to an end,
we think you may want to linger.

And so, we offer ...

AfterWords—
just a little something more after you
have finished a David C Cook novel.
We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

Thanks for reading!

Turn the page for ...

• Discussion Questions

• Historical Notes

• A Letter from Lisa

• Facebook and Mobile Page