Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella) (13 page)

“Tell me, Signorina,” the little nobleman said, stroking her hand. “How many men are within Castello Forelli?”

“Thirty or more, within her gates,” she said. She frowned. Why could she not make her mouth form the words right?

“Good,” he said, seeming not to notice. “And how many do they send to watch the border?”

She shook her head in apology, but then abruptly stopped when it sent another wave of dizziness through her. “I know not.”

“That’s all right,” he said. Behind him, a knight entered. His face was spattered with blood and his mouth was grim, but he didn’t seem alarmed. He nodded once at Lord Barbato.

Alessandra frowned, trying to figure it out. But then her mind went back to what had brought her north in the first place. She had been in such a rush…so intent on telling them something. What was it? Why couldn’t she think of it?

“They must have threatened you, Alessandra,” the man said gently, more fatherly than her own papa had ever been. “For you to run, it must have been awful, indeed.”

She nodded. But inside she wondered, had it really been a threat? Lord Greco, Sir Luca Forelli…they had merely warned her from hurting their own, right? When shadows of her enemy intent were uncovered? She remembered the kindness of the Ladies Betarrini, the sisters’ warmth.

But then she remembered Luca, narrowly missing her with the lance…Lord Greco, turning her around so roughly…They were her enemies.
Enemies
. People responsible for her brothers’ deaths. Valente’s death.

And she was on a mission. The expansion, she remembered, her mind finally settling like a rolling ball in a crevice. She gripped the lord’s hand. “They’re building, m’lord. Expanding. Intending to make Castello Forelli even mightier,” she said, feeling like her tongue was expanding, her lips swollen. She let go of his hand to touch them, wondering if it were true. Distantly, she decided they felt normal. On the outside.

“That is hardly a secret, sweet girl,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “We need something else from you. You feared for your very life,” he guessed, studying her. “They must have tortured you.”

“Nay,” she said, with a confused shake of her head. “Only—”

“Then what else, woman?” he asked, brusquely casting off her attempt to explain. “What else did you learn?”

The blood-spattered knight bent at a basin in the corner and after rolling up his sleeves, splashed his face.
Rolling up his sleeves
, Alessandra thought groggily, now fighting off an overpowering urge to sleep. She thought of her dead brothers, and that seemed to settle her careening mind for a moment.

“Do you know of Lord Forelli’s brotherhood?” she murmured, forcing each word out now. “Lord…Greco. A tattoo…”

Lord Barbato leaned forward, his small eyes narrowing. “Of course we know of it. And Greco, too, has the tattoo, you say? On the arm, as with the others?”

“Here,” she said, brushing the inside of her arm with her fingers. “They all have it. All of them.”

“How many, Alessandra?” he asked urgently. “How many are there? What are their names?”

“I know not, m’lord.” And then, though it was only midday, she closed her eyes and could not summon the strength to open them again.

***

“Saints above, Evangelia,” Marcello said, pulling me roughly into his brotherly arms and kissing my forehead, “if I wasn’t so glad to see you alive, I’d throttle you right now.”

“Well I know it,” I said, apology thick in my tone. “Forgive me. I only thought I might resolve it. Cut Alessandra off, before things got out of hand…”

I hugged Dad, drawing strength from his warm arms around me, and saw Greco behind him, scanning the ridge we’d just descended.

Luca stood two paces away, arms folded, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He stared at me, waiting. “Evangelia,” he said, with a little shake of his head. “We so feared for you…”

“I know,” I said, shyly hooking his fingers with two of mine, feeling like a jerk for not going to him in the first place. “I was wrong to go without you, Luca. But I shall find a way to make it up to you. For now, there is much to tell you.”

Quickly, I filled them in—about the scouts I’d narrowly escaped, about seeing the contingents of knights, just a half-mile down the creek, and Alessandra, intercepted by Lord Barbato.

“Lord Barbato,” Rodolfo repeated, stepping forward and cocking his head, as if he’d not heard right.

“Yes,” I said, my eyes shifting to my brother-in-law.

He and Greco stared at each other until Marcello lifted his chin, a vein in his neck now working overtime. “Why do you believe
he’s
here?” he asked.

“Some political intrigue, I’d wager,” Rodolfo said.

“Indeed,” I said, remembering. “Just outside Barbato’s tent, I saw one knight kill the two at his side. Suddenly, without provocation, without warning. He
executed
them.”

Luca stared at me. “His own men?”

I nodded. I tried to not remember the head, tried focusing on the stabbed man instead, as if that was a whole lot better. And somehow, it was.

“’Tis as we feared,” Rodolfo said, stepping away, chin in hand, staring up at the ridge as if the answer was up there on a neon sign. “He intends to steal her away. The Fiorentini shall storm up to Castello Forelli on the morrow, demanding Alessandra’s safe return, as promised.”

“But there shall be no Alessandra to turn over,” Marcello muttered.

“Giving the reason they seek to attack,” Luca said.

“They shall hurt her, claiming it was us,” Rodolfo said softly, looking over his shoulder at Marcello, quietly asking permission. “Or worse.”

“Unless I send one of my best knights to retrieve her,” Marcello said, as if weighing each word.

Greco nodded, once.

“By your leave, I shall accompany him, m’lord,” Luca said. My heartbeat sped up at his words.

“Nay, Luca,” Marcello said. “We need you back at the castello.”

“Forgive me, m’lord, but don’t we need the girl to reappear just as dearly? Greco and I will bring her back. Together. ‘Tis not a task for one man, in enemy territory.”

Marcello considered them both a moment, arms folded. “Very well. Go.”

Luca hid a small smile.

“Marcello, I might be—” I began, but he cut me off with a raised hand, already moving toward his horse.

“You and your sister shall go immediately to Siena with your parents, accompanied by a healthy number of guards. The last thing we need is one of you held hostage, too. You came perilously close to that, today.”

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Dad said to me. Greco had already mounted his grey gelding, but Luca waited nearby. For me.

“What of the scout I tied up?” I asked Marcello. “The other, with the broken leg?”

“Let their own discover them this night,” he said with a grin, mounting his horse. “Let them consider what happens to those who wander into She-Wolf territory.” His gelding turned in a tight circle, sensing our agitation.

Luca took hold of my hand again and I dragged my eyes to his. “Don’t get killed,” I said, only half-joking.

He lifted my hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on it as he smiled at me with his eyes. “What shall you give me if I return to you alive? A promise may give me the strength to run all the way back to you.”

I smiled at him, aware now how much I didn’t want him to go. How much I didn’t want him in enemy territory. In danger. A wave of nausea passed through me again as I thought of the knight’s head…

“Lia,” he said softly, edging my chin up. As I looked up into his eyes, my vision cleared. “You need not make any promise. I will forever—”

I halted his speech with the tips of my fingers. “Return to me, Luca, and we shall speak of a certain request that would require me to don a blue dress.”

His grin broadened and he kissed my hand again. “Until then, m’lady.”

“Until then,” I said, finding it impossible to do anything but grin back at him. Despite the fear and the threat and the dread.

Because Luca had that effect on me.

Dad offered his arm and I went to him, feeling the warmth and the shelter there. It was a different kind of strength than Luca’s. A daddy’s strength, nearly as welcome now. “You had good intentions, didn’t you, Sprite?” he asked, leading me toward his horse.

I glanced over my shoulder as Greco and Luca galloped away, Luca sending a little flirty salute to me as they disappeared around the bend. I listened as the sounds of their horses’ hoofbeats faded in the distance, and prayed that no Fiorentini scout spotted them as they crossed the river and stole their way to the Barbato tent.

With luck, they’d have the girl back within the hour, and they’d all be safely back at the castello before we had to leave for Siena.

Please Lord
, I prayed, as Dad helped me up onto the horse, remembering Father Tomas’s admonitions against hoping for luck when we had God himself on our side.
Please, please, please, Lord. Be on our side. See us through this. Oh, and it’d be really cool if you’d bring Luca back to me. Amen
.

***

Luca and Rodolfo crept closer and closer, pausing behind trees, moving forward, swords drawn, daggers in their other hand. They saw the dead knights, telling them they were heading in the right direction. But as soon as the tent fully came into view, Rodolfo’s heart sank.
No guard.

Had they missed them already? He ignored Luca’s grunt of disapproval and ran directly toward it. Luca was right behind him. They burst inside, immediately back to back, ready to face their enemy, but it was as they’d feared. They were gone.

He met Luca’s stern gaze and dashed outside again, directly to where their adversaries had mounted up. Luca said, “I’ll get the horses,” and ran off, disappearing between the trees. Rodolfo’s eyes returned to the tracks, tracing one set of hooves and then the other two. “Three men,” he whispered to himself. “This one carrying the woman.” Had they told her they were taking her home to keep her quiet? How long would it be before she realized she was in danger?

 
Stupid, stupid girl
, he thought, cursing her decision to run. He paced, his hand on his head. If she’d only waited but another day, all would have been well! And yet…and yet, if he’d been in her position, he could understand. The Fiorentini were as poisoned in their thinking about the Sienese as the Sienese were about the Fiorentini. He’d been around both long enough to know that neither side was fully innocent.

And now Alessandra would be a pawn in the game. How long would it take for Barbato to decide he was safer killing her and simply utilizing her absence at the appointed time of trade? Half of him was surprised they hadn’t found her dead already, beside the knights outside, waiting for the rest of the Fiorentini to discover them all, fueling their charge upon Castello Forelli. No one would stop to ask questions.

Unless he has more dire intentions. Intentions that would make her welcome death, instead
…

Luca moved through the trees, leading his mount. He was moving slowly, obviously hoping to avoid drawing the eye of any Fiorentini scouts.

“We best be away from those two,” Luca said with a nod toward the bodies. “If we’re found on this side of the creek even, their Fiorentini brothers shall tear us apart.” He looked up at the tent. “Why not bother to take it down?”

“They’re not Barbato’s colors,” Rodolfo said. “Even the knights do not wear his herald. They must have been mercenaries.”

“Clever little man, isn’t he?”

“As well as ruthless,” he said, meeting Luca’s gaze. “Once he has what he needs from Alessandra…”

“He’ll not be suggesting a game of tric-trac?”

“Nay.”

Alessandra awakened as the horse entered the river, splashing her face. She blinked, forcing her eyes to remain open, although they begged to shut again. What was wrong with her? She felt ill. A horrible ache pounded behind her eyes, different than the one she’d suffered at Castello Forelli. And she was so desperately weary... Not since the time she had the coughing sickness as a child, or the fall that landed her in Castello Forelli, had her head felt like this, so thick and groggy.

The horse entered deeper water, barely touching bottom, by the feel of it. It dawned on her then that she was lying, facedown, across the girth of a horse, and she couldn’t remember being placed there. But she remembered who she’d been with last…

She forced herself to look up, into the face of the man in the saddle behind her, but was blinded by the setting sun. “Lord Barbato?”

“Ah, signorina,” he said nervously. “Please, stay still. Lord Barbato is directly behind us. I am but his hired servant.” Gradually, she placed his voice. The servant from the tent.

“Where…where are we going?”

“To safety, signorina. You appeared…unwell, and m’lord wanted to make certain you were behind defensible gates before the night was through. He thinks the Sienese poisoned you!”

“Might…might you not simply take me home?”

“Nay, signorina. You must be defended. M’lords wish to speak with you further about Castello Forelli and those within. You may yet have information that may assist your brothers-at-arms.”

“Anything,” Alessandra said, meaning it. But what else did she know that might help them? She wondered what she’d told them and what she had not. Mayhap she’d dreamed their entire conversation, due to her fever. Or the poison. Whatever plagued her. It felt dim in her memory.

She could not fight it any longer. She gave in to the sway of the horse, letting her head flop alongside its sweaty flank. A length of her hair drifted beside her face and into the water, but she couldn’t summon the strength to lift it out, or truthfully, even to care. In the morning, she’d be better. And she could figure it out. In the morning… 

***

Happily, Barbato’s party seemed as eager to avoid the Fiorentini as Rodolfo and Luca were. They made good time for a while, alternately breathing easier, the more distance they put between themselves and the knights assembled at the creek, and growing more dismayed at how deep they were traveling into Fiorentini territory. By the terms of the truce, none of the Sienese could venture into lands held by Firenze, without written safe rights of passage. While both men carried a signed letter from Marcello in their saddlebags, there was no corresponding wax seal from Firenze. If questioned, it would do little more than buy them a few minutes.