Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella) (16 page)

She stared at him in horror. Did he intend—

“I shall not look. Please. Do you not yet see? I can’t escort a woman out of here. But a squire?” He nodded, with the hint of a smile.

She nodded, numbly, finally understanding.

He yanked off the man’s boots and leggings as Alessandra turned and unhooked the back of her gown. She supposed it foolish, her reluctance to leave the gown behind—it’d been a gift from the Betarrinis, the finest she’d ever worn. The Betarrinis.
Betrayer
, she chastised herself. She slipped the dress from her shoulders and looked back. The knight was offering her a shirt, averting his eyes.

She wrenched it from his hand and slipped it over her shoulders, then reached for the leggings, pulling them up and securing them with the belt that came next. They were ridiculously long, as was the shirt and tunic, but at least the man had not been as large as Celso. She hurried over to the boots, pulling one on after the other. She’d not be able to run in them, but she might be able to manage a shuffle.

Celso went to the door again, peering out, before glancing back at her. He scowled and then dragged her over to the basin, wetting his big hands and then hastily slicking back her short hair. He growled. “You do it. You’re still looking far too…womanish.”

She dipped her trembling hands in and did the same, wetting it down thoroughly, then glanced back at him. He groaned. “As well as can be expected,” he said, taking her hand. They slid out of the room and down the hall. She winced at the heavy sound of her boots, but they were largely disguised by the more frightening sounds—voices, laughter, animated conversation, among fifty or more men, but steps away.

“Come,” he said, after peeking around the corner. “Walk as if you belong here. As if we simply head toward the stables.”

She nodded. But he was already moving. She struggled to keep up, wondering if anyone would shout, call to them, or worse…

But no one did. They made it to the relative safety of the next, dark hallway, only lit by the occasional torch.

“Walk like a man,” he said with a grunt of disapproval.

She frowned. Simple for him to say, when he wasn’t wearing boots too big for him. And he’d been a man all his life! What if she asked him to walk like a woman? Still, she attempted to do as he asked, using the boots to her advantage. Her head ached again, as did her side where she’d been kicked, her neck…

They turned another corner and then through a doorway, and they were outside. Alessandra took a breath of clean, sweet evening air. The knight pulled her between two wagons, crouching down, watching as a group of knights paused beside the door, talking and laughing. He reached in the open back of the nearest wagon and took out a coil of rope.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Saving me.”

“’Twas the right thing to do.”

“But you are Fiorentini. They shall hang you for your treasonous acts.”

He gave her a small smile, barely discernible in the faint reach of the nearest torch. “They’d hang me anyway, in time, on suspicion.” He pulled up his sleeve and showed her. Even in the dim light, the tattoo could clearly be seen on his fair skin.

She gaped. How many were in this brotherhood? She’d imagined them all to be nobles, not knights in the ranks…

“These are times of shifting sands when it comes to loyalty to one’s republic, are they not?” He didn’t wait for an answer. The knights had moved indoors. And they were on the move again. He stumbled over a ladder, backed up, ran his hand the length of it and then looked up at the wall. It was but a minor defense, nowhere near the height of a castello’s. But it was patrolled by men they could see, as dark silhouettes against the starry sky.

Alessandra glanced back toward the mansion doorway, concerned now. Precious minutes had evaporated. How long until Lord Barbato returned? Found out they had disappeared? Sounded an alarm?

Celso urged her flat against the wall, looking up. Above them, a knight casually walked by. She prayed his attention was mostly outward. But she knew the laughter and noise within was probably drawing him too. She closed her eyes, hoping against hope they would not see them, that it wouldn’t be at this moment that Lord Barbato discovered he’d been betrayed.

Move on, please move on. Lord, help us!

Gradually, achingly slow, he moved on.

Celso didn’t hesitate. He pulled up the ladder. It was missing a couple of rungs, but Alessandra figured she’d be able to get past them. “Go,” he said, as soon as he had it upright.

She hurried up it, but within a few steps, knew she was about to lose her boots, and if she didn’t let them go, they might make her fall. She let them drop to the side and scrambled up the rest of the ladder, Celso right behind. At the top, they crouched, each looking in opposite directions as Celso hauled up the ladder as quietly as he could and lowered it over the other side. He almost had it settled again when they heard the shrill cry of a man from within the villa.

Alessandra jumped on the ladder, almost sending it to one side, but Celso held tight. She hurried down, half sliding, wincing as deep splinters entered her palms. But inside all she could think was
away. We must be away
.

More alarmed shouts rose. The guards were running in their direction, from either side, having spotted their ladder.

“Make haste!” she cried, not bothering to disguise her voice. An arrow came singing by her head and she crouched, watching in horror as Celso’s tunic got caught on the broken rung and he struggled to free himself. She reached up and pulled, as hard as she could, and ended up bringing the man down with the ladder. He was immediately on his feet and took her hand.

Together they ran.

***

“Luca,” Rodolfo said, nudging his friend. “
Luca
.”

He was instantly awake, shoving aside the branch and turning to his knees. “What is it?”

“Two men just came over the wall. The Fiorentini are in pursuit.”

“Well, we needn’t wade into that scuffle,” Luca said. But his eyes were tracing the dim form of the two, disappearing down a shallow valley to their left.

“Mayhap they know of what has transpired with Alessandra,” Rodolfo said. The villa gates were opening. “And now, we cannot stay here. They shall discover us.”

“Yes, well,” Luca said with a sigh. “Sleep is not fully necessary, is it?” He rose and pounded his chest. “Not for a Forelli knight.”

Rodolfo shook his head and they set off in a steady run toward the wood where their horses were hobbled. With luck, they’d intercept the two on foot on their way there and question them. In any case, they didn’t wish to stay where they were, not with enemy knights out looking for those hidden in the slopes and gullies about the mansion.

Minutes later, they reached the wood. Looking back, knights were just now cresting the hill where they’d hidden, lifting torches high. They entered the trees and padded forward, pausing to listen every few minutes for the two who had escaped the villa. It was difficult, so dark that Rodolfo could barely keep track of Luca in front of him, as well as dodge trees. He ran with one hand in front of him, ducking left and right to avoid the trunks and branches.

Luca stopped so suddenly, he almost ran over him. Luca laughed under his breath and steadied him. Slowly, he slid the sword from his sheath, as did Rodolfo. “We know you’re here,” Luca said, just loud enough for anyone in the immediate area to hear. “Come out, or we shall be forced to hunt you down. If you’re against those who inhabit that villa, you shall find aid and protection in us.”

Judging from the sounds, a large man moved toward them.

“Be you friend or foe?” Rodolfo barked, moving to stand beside Luca.

“Neither,” said a deep voice. “But rather, a brother, long lost.”

Rodolfo wondered over his words. But then he was closer.

“If I remember voices correctly, I’d wager I face Lord Greco and Sir Luca Forelli.”

“Celso?” Luca said, a smile of greeting in his voice. “Celso Costa?”

The man laughed and the two embraced in the dark. Rodolfo took the man’s hand. But then sounds of those in pursuit drew them up short. “What of your companion? Who is the boy?”

“It is I,” said another, moving softly through the branches to stand right behind Celso. “Alessandra.”

“Saints be praised,” Luca said, his voice numb with surprise. “Now let us make our escape before we become the latest swine to be skewered and roasted on a Barbato spit.”

They hurried through the forest, the light of torches at their backs. They managed to keep just ahead of their adversaries for a while, but Alessandra was moving painfully slowly, holding her side and limping. It wasn’t until Rodolfo looked back in agitation that he saw her face and groaned. In the flickering, filtering light, he saw that her hair had been shorn. Her face and hands were bleeding. And she was hurting, barely able to stand.

He turned toward her and reached out, grimacing when she flinched, swaying weakly on her feet. “Mother Mary, what did they do to you?”

Celso paused just ahead, glancing over his shoulder at them. “He beat her. He wished it to look like she had suffered by your hands. Or the Forellis’. And he left her with me, to make it far worse. That is when we made our escape.”

Rodolfo shared a brief look of fury with Luca, then turned and swept Alessandra into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him in a manner that melted the anger within. She was an innocent. Played as a pawn in far worse ways than he feared.

They reached their horses and Rodolfo lifted Alessandra up and into Luca’s saddle. “Do you have the strength to hold on?”

 She nodded. He mounted his horse, while Luca and Celso silently took up the front and rear guard. They ran, as best as they could, spooked that they no longer saw bits of light behind them. Either their adversaries had given up, or worse, they’d elected to try and go around, cutting them off from the road south.

At last, they emerged at the far end of the wood. Rodolfo thought he knew where they were, but couldn’t be sure. It simply was too cursedly dark, the stars too feeble. There would be no way to ride the horses, not if they didn’t wish to break their necks or simply let them pick their way forward. He dismounted and pulled Alessandra back into his arms.

Luca stopped beside them. “Send off the horses? Use them as a distraction?”

“Agreed. ‘Tis far too dark for them to be of much use, especially if we need to move quickly.”

Luca slapped one horse on the flank, then the other, sending them trotting away. The group continued to make their way.

“I can walk,” Alessandra said. “Please. Let me try.”

“You have no slippers,” he whispered back, making his way down a path as quietly as he could, hoping it led to a creek bed that should be dry, if he had the right place in mind. Luca and Celso were right behind them.

They reached the bottom, and by the feel of the rounded rocks, Rodolfo grew more confident in his surroundings.

“
Down
,” Luca growled, and immediately, Rodolfo turned and sank against the soft, eroded bank, Alessandra still in his arms. The bank was just a bit taller than his head, but formed a small alcove. Loose soil crumbled over his shoulders. He tried not to move, well aware of the swiftly approaching torches and hoofbeats. Luca and Celso were to their left and right.

“Four men,” Luca whispered, closing his eyes, hands on the hilt of his sword.

Rodolfo glanced down at Alessandra. She was plainly terrified. And in the growing light…He pulled her closer, desperately trying to provide some sense of comfort.

A horse paused above them, and dirt crumbled over Luca’s head and shoulders. Rodolfo feared the whole bank might give way, burying them alive.

Stay still
, he told himself.
We must stay still
.

Flickering, bright light flooded the creek bed.

“Any sign of them?” hissed one.

“They had to have come this way, sir.”

“Unless they went East.”

“Sir! Tracks from two horses, this way. Fresh.”

The men wheeled their horses away and more dirt rained down on their heads. Two counts later, Luca and Celso disappeared, chasing after the men as stealthily as they could.

“Where are they going?” Alessandra whispered.

“To overtake them.” He rose and gently set her down. “When they find the horses, they’ll guess it’s a ruse and come back for us. Best for us to surprise them.” He took her hand. “Come. I think I saw a small pool of water, just over here.”

He made his way across the rocks, reaching down again and again, until his hand met cool liquid. He urged her to bend down beside him, placing her fingers in the pool. She drank, eagerly, while he kept watch, willing Luca and Celso to return. The minutes were sliding by, and if they tarried here much longer, another patrol was liable to come hunting.

“’Tis too dark for us to make it to Castello Forelli before my father arrives at her gates,” Alessandra said miserably.

“Indeed. The battle shall be upon them, justified or not.”

“And if you arrive with me in hand, looking as I do…”

He let the silence stand.

“And yet, I cannot go back there,” she said, her voice crackling with fear.

“Nay,” he said, seeking her hand, finding it. “You cannot.”

“So…Barbato has won. The battle shall be upon the Sienese, swords raised to defend my honor. Honor compromised by none but my Fiorentini brothers.”

He sighed heavily. “Now you understand what I tried to tell you.”

“I…I simply couldn’t…” She coughed and pulled her hand away, rising. “I have created nothing but trouble, m’lord. You must loathe me.”

He rose and wished he could see her face. “Nay, signorina. I feel nothing but kinship toward you. Understanding. I have walked your path, have I not?”

It was her turn to remain silent. Where was Luca? He cast an anxious eye down the creek. They should have returned by now.

“If I could only speak to my father—”

He shushed her with a quick sound, crouching and cocking his head to try and hear better. Then he bit back a curse word, pulled her back into his arms and scrambled for the far bank. Horses approached. Far too many to be Luca and Celso. He stumbled and Alessandra yelped, but he was on his feet immediately, as aware of the oncoming horses as if they were reaching out to nip his back and neck. They reached the far side and he swiftly made his way up the silty, crumbling soil, entering the trees just before the patrol pulled up right across from them.