Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella) (21 page)

I’d left a bloody streak on the ceiling.

And if my mouth hadn’t been deformed by the gag, the spiders would’ve seen me grinning.

Because while we weren’t much of a fighting duo at this point, there were others coming after us who were.
God willing
…

***

“God in heaven…Help us,” Luca muttered, already over the side and lowering himself down the rope. It was slick with blood.
So it was her hands
…Her beautiful, elegant hands…

“They’ll likely attempt to escape out the aqueduct,” Marcello barked to a Forelli knight, above him, his voice echoing off the well walls. “They must have overcome the aqueduct guard, breached the wall, and with the low summer water, entered that way. Alert the city guard. Send several contingents there. Expect enemies when you arrive, even before these emerge. And take these boys back to Palazzo Forelli!”

“Yes, m’lord!”

Marcello came down, and after him, twelve knights—a few of the remaining Forelli guards, the rest Sienese in their red tunics, with white crosses. Four held torches and all drew their swords. Two archers led the way.

They ran down the slick-bottomed
bottini
, pausing at the first juncture. Marcello closed his eyes, as if trying to remember where they might be beneath the city, where their adversaries were likely to go.

We should split up
, Luca thought. But then thought better of it. If the Fiorentini had been able to silently murder nine Forelli knights and take off with Gabriella and Evangelia, they’d need to stick together if they were to get the women back.
But what if they went the other way?
He wondered, as they splashed down a tunnel after Marcello. His heart hammered at the thought. Of losing Evangelia. Of failing her.

They reached the next juncture and Marcello lifted his torch and stared at a bloody streak on the wall. He reached up and touched it, rubbing the blood between his fingers. “Fresh,” he said, looking to the channel to his right. “They intend to try to move upstream, out the aqueduct.”

“That’s madness. They’ll drown!” Luca said.

“We have to gamble on something. We must double-back. Make our way to the next fonte entrance and come in above them. They’ve gone wider than necessary. And they have the women with them—which is likely slowing them down. If we can enter in front of them…”

Luca nodded. It was their only opportunity to surprise them.

As one, they turned and ran, praying they weren’t already too late.

~EVANGELIA~

The water was up to our thighs, the current stronger as we neared what had to be the walls of the city. Gabi fell again, and I struggled to haul her up, her head just clearing the rush of water. A Fiorentini spider took hold of her other arm and we got her to her feet, her breath coming fast and panicked through her nose.

“Their skirts threaten to sweep them away!” a man beside us called forward, to the leader.

“Take care of it, then,” the leader returned, sounding irritated that they couldn’t think of this for themselves. We were immediately surrounded, and separated, the men laughing. Memories of being tied up in the woods, swept over me, and I breathed fast and hard, fighting panic.

Two men took out long daggers and began cutting away at the fabric of my skirts, as I assumed they did to Gabi’s, too. They laughed over the idea of the She-Wolves of Siena looking like nothing more than half-drowned harlots.

“If their people could see them now!” crowed one, reaching out for a handful of my long, wet hair. The other finished his task, his dagger carelessly jabbing me. I winced and sidled away, into another, who wrapped his arms around me.

“Mayhap later, girl,” he said, as if I’d been throwing myself at him.

He shoved me away, and the others laughed. Ahead of us, I saw that Gabi suffered similar mockery. But as I stumbled and righted myself, I realized I was glad my skirts were gone. The water mostly covered my legs. And now it was far easier to move, as well as to remain stable. It left me less panicked about falling, since I had the use of my legs to kick and right myself.

Their leader awaited us, hands on hips. “Keep your hands to yourselves,” he hissed. “We’ll earn enough in reward for delivering these two to keep us in gold—and women—to the end of our days. But we must escape these cursed walls and deliver them to the Grandi. Only they can decide if the She-Wolves suffer our sister’s fate. Not us.”

I frowned at his obvious reference to Alessandra and the accusations that she’d been abused at our men’s hands. Was that what they intended? Retribution in kind? I glanced over my shoulder, hoping against hope that I’d see a flicker of torchlight, know that Luca and Marcello trailed us…but there was nothing.

***

The man’s voice easily carried to them, even over the rush of the water.

The Fiorentini were right around the corner, not twenty paces away. They could see the reflection of their torches on the wall. Marcello looked over at Luca, his face half-submerged. In his hands were two daggers, just as there were in Luca’s. Three other knights who could swim were with them in the water, the others waiting in the other tunnel, awaiting sounds of battle.

The light drew closer on the wall, and Marcello lifted his chin, took a deep breath, then went under, as did Luca, a second later. They dived deep, not wanting a kicking foot or rising hand to alert the men that they approached. They’d gambled that the Fiorentini traveled up the center of the bottini, where it was least slick, and went to either side, leaving the men at the front for the knights behind them. Luca counted to thirty, hoping they had passed the leader, and then rose, just as Marcello did. They each took down their first man within seconds, then another, and Luca dived for Evangelia, dragging her underneath the water with him. But a man was immediately upon him, and then another, and Luca shoved her away, hoping he could stay between them.

He felt the pierce of an enemy’s dagger in his thigh and rose, infuriated, intent on taking this one down, drowning him as a crocodile took his prey. As he went under, he glimpsed Evangelia in the torchlight, pulling the gag from her mouth, screaming for Gabriella.

When he rose, his enemy drifting away from him, dead, and, turning to take on the next, he saw Evangelia wade out into the
bottini
for a drifting bow, then run downstream after the drifting, dead body of an archer, intent on the quiver of arrows. “Evangelia! Stay with—”

He grunted and ripped the sword from his back, just barely stopping his adversary’s strike at his neck. He roared and pushed the man back, but the man was quick, twisting, going under the water, and rising where he didn’t expect him. He couldn’t go after Evangelia…not if he wanted to stay alive to help her.

Luca growled in frustration, renewing his attack and then glimpsed where she was headed. Two men had Gabriella, and were dragging her with them, away. Marcello cried out, obviously injured, then roared as he attacked his adversary anew. Luca finally dispatched his attacker with a feint and plunged a knife into his belly, then turned and ran after Evangelia, Gabriella, and the other two Fiorentini. He glanced over his shoulder at his cousin, pushing a Fiorentini underwater. Two Forelli knights hovered nearby.

Marcello would want me to go after his wife. His baby
.

He turned back, chagrined that they were all out of sight again, and ran, as fast as he could, against the waters that seemed to fight him.
By the saints, Lord, don’t let me have tarried too long. Please don’t let me have tarried too long!

Luca turned the corner and splashed to a stop, just shy of running into Evangelia, aiming down her bowstring at the running figures thirty feet away.

He held his breath. She’d shot nothing but a few targets a couple days ago. Over the course of a
year
. And he knew her hands were bloody, likely trembling, weakened. If her arrow went wide—

She let it loose, and it struck the man at Gabriella’s left in the center of his neck. His hands went up, as if surrendering, just before he splashed face-first into the water. The other immediately turned, dagger to Gabriella’s throat, dragging her backward, even as Evangelia strode forward through the water, nocking another arrow as she went.

“Stay where you are, or I’ll kill her now!” cried the man.

“Nay. You shall not leave with her,” Evangelia said, not stopping for another ten paces. Behind Gabriella and her captor, another assassin held a torch, leaving them in perfect silhouette.

For the first time, Luca smiled. “So…you only set aside your bow and arrow so that you could pick them up again in a way that would heighten your legend?”

A smile edged her beautiful face, but her eyes remained only on her prey. “I do adore a good dramatic moment.”

Luca sucked in his breath. “You know that he’ll likely kill her and then try and escape,” he whispered. “Take the glory of the kill rather than be captured.”

“I am aware,” she said, aiming again.

“Cease your aim!” cried the man, panic edging his tone, taking a few more steps backward. “Put down your bow!”

“You did not hear what transpired for your brothers at the villa in Aquila last year?” Luca called.

The man paused, and Luca could almost see him frowning.

“Nay?” Luca called. “Ah well. It went something like this…”

And Lia let her next arrow fly, piercing Gabriella’s captor in the eye a second later. Then another, taking down the man with the torch, who had turned to run.

They rushed forward as Gabriella was dragged under. She came up just before they reached her, pulling at her gag, choking. Marcello was right behind them, taking his wife in his arms, even as Luca cut her hands free. Two others came, with torches.

Luca turned Evangelia toward him, gently taking the bow from her hands, setting it adrift on the water, and lifted her palms to the light, wincing at the deep cuts and burns. He pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around him, and cradled her face, covering it with small kisses. “Ah, Evangelia, how I feared for you…”

“And I for you.” But then she turned to her sister, as soon as she was in reach. They clung to each other for a moment, weeping, and Luca and Marcello each backed up, leaning against opposite walls, taking their first deep breath since their arrival. Marcello gave him a grateful smile.

“I could not have done it without you, Captain.”

“Nor I without you, m’lord. Or our men.”

Marcello nodded soberly. “Or our women.” He stepped forward to wrap his arms around Gabriella, and Luca moved behind Evangelia, sliding his arms across her upper chest and kissing her beside the ear, as the remaining Sienese and Forelli knights rounded the corner and cheered.

“I’m beginning to believe that Lia and I must sleep with our weapons,” Gabi said, with a wan smile.

“Not a bad idea, that,” Marcello said.

“Speaking of weapons…” Luca said, turning Lia in his arms.

“We shall speak of it later, yes?” she said.

He nodded, and pulled her close again, kissing her on the forehead. “Whenever you are ready, m’lady.”

~EVANGELIA~

It was as the guys suspected. The Fiorentini forces faded back across the border when the knights’ mission failed in capturing me and Gabi, and our uneasy truce resumed. The guys relaxed a little, with Celso now in our company—the only one of the brotherhood that had remained behind enemy lines.

And Rodolfo…well, Rodolfo was like a new man, smiling all the time. Laughing, even. It turned out his laugh was pretty awesome, deep and warm, making us all smile when we heard the unfamiliar sound. He finally had somewhere to focus all of that mad intensity. And under his care and attention, Alessandra was blossoming…and gradually accepting our forgiveness, our understanding.

“That lone sunflower, on the next hill,” Luca challenged, in my ear. My eyes moved to where he pointed, over my shoulder, brushing my ear with his lips as he withdrew.

It was impossibly far.

I looked back at him and cocked a brow. “You think I cannot do it?”

“On the contrary,” he said, taking a step away, arms crossed, waiting. “I believe you can.”

I looked to the fat sunflower, feeling the breeze on my cheek, knowing how it increased the challenge. That was the thing about Luca. He thought I could do the impossible. And he made me think the same.

I glanced behind me, to Gabi, her eyes closed against the sun, her hand on her swelling belly. Marcello was on his side, beside her, playing with a coil of her hair. He smiled his encouragement up at me.

“Give it a try, Squirt,” Dad said, handing Mom some grapes.

My eyes shifted across the rest of our party, spread over the hill near the castello, the new wall clearly taking shape in the distance. Some of the men were sparring with wooden swords, others wrestling, like the big boys they were, showing off for the few women in attendance. Celso, Lutterius and Patrizio were riding up the hill, allowing their horses to lazily pick their way up the trail. Father Tomas and Adela, back from Rome, were sitting, side by side, sharing a book. To my left, Rodolfo was halfway down the golden hill, standing beside Alessandra, fiddling with a piece of grass. Alessandra tucked her short hair behind her ear, smiling and laughing in response to what he was saying. He laughed too, and then gathered her in his arms, all tender and sweet.

I had a flashback to him in the rain, locked in the stocks, misery etched in his every word. And now, joy. Such joy.

How things had changed for us. For us all. I closed my eyes and felt the breeze across my cheek and nose, judging its speed. Smelling lavender and sage and pine and fresh cut hay. Felt the warm, Tuscan, August sun on my face.

“You with us still, Lia?” Gabi said, shielding her eyes with her hand and looking up to me.

“Oh, I’m with you,” I said, eying the sunflower again, before looking back at her. “More than I’ve ever been. Here, with you. Luca. Marcello. Mom. Dad. For the first time, it feels like home to me, you know? Not just because I’m here with you.” My eyes shifted to Luca. “But because it’s where I belong. Because I couldn’t…” my voice cracked, my heart filled with so many conflicting emotions. I took a deep breath and looked back to her. “Because I couldn’t be anywhere else and feel this right.”