Bourne (River of Time 3.1 Novella) Read online

  He gave me a slight smile and began to brush the mare. "Truth be told, once is enough for me on that score. I'll see to Evangelia's mount. 'Tis not proper for the lady of the castle to do it, not when there's an able man at hand."

  Ridiculous, chauvinistic, archaic thinking! "Yes, well, there is hardly a proper bone in my body, it seems." I turned to take the blanket from the wall, waiting for him to finish.

  He frowned, his movements frustrated now as he brushed the mare's back as if intending to skin her instead. "Truly, Gabriella. Must you always be so stubborn?"

  "Yes," I said, throwing the blanket across the mare's back. "I suppose I must." I turned to take Lia's saddle off the wooden horse holding it, but it stuck. I yanked, but the wooden stand threatened to come with it.

  A call rang out in the courtyard. They were ready to go. I grimaced and bent to see what had snagged underneath.

  "Allow me," Rodolfo said, reaching for the saddle, over me.

  "M'lady, we are..." Luca said as he entered the stables. His mouth opened as his eyes went from Rodolfo—his hands on the saddle, on either side of me—to me, slowly, awkwardly rising in front of Rodolfo, caught between saddle and man.

  He rushed us, grabbing Rodolfo's shirt in his hands. And once again, Rodolfo wasn't fighting.

  "You misunderstand," I said, reaching out to grab Luca's solid arm, which was pulsing with fury. I yanked him aside and moved to face him. "This ends here," I ground out. "There is no need to defend my honor because my honor has not been threatened."

  "Of what do you speak?" Luca said. "I entered, expecting to find you alone and in need of aid, but 'tis him, with his hands all over you again!"

  "All over me!" I sputtered. "Luca! Cease your silly imaginings! I am your cousin's bride. Whole and true. No other man shall ever have me." I put my hand on his chest, which was heaving in agitation, and leaned closer. "Lord Greco 'twas only assisting me with Lia's saddle. Nothing more. Please," I added in a whisper, leaning still closer. "'Tis difficult enough without you constantly coming to false conclusions. I made my decisions in Roma...forever. Do you understand me? Forever."

  He studied me, searching my eyes as if to see if I was lying or not. "Forgive me, Greco," he said, still staring at me. "I assumed...wrongly." Only then did Luca's eyes flick in his friend's direction.

  Rodolfo, hands on his hips, gave him a wary nod. "Luca...in time, shall you trust me?" he asked quietly. "Or shall it always be this way?"

  Luca pursed his lips, and I almost could hear a clock tick as seconds went by. "I know not," he said at last. "I wish to trust you, man. I do. But shadows of yesterday dim today's sun." He glanced at me. "And Gabriella...Marcello...'tis a raw place. You think I am on edge.... When Marcello is himself again, you must take the utmost care."

  Greco looked at him intently. "Send me away on a mission. On castello business. Wherever you see fit. 'Tis best for all of us."

  Luca rubbed his neck and stared at him in frustration. "You think I wouldn't, if I could? Nay. I shall not send you to your death."

  What were they talking about? Rodolfo couldn't leave the castello? It hit me, then. He'd be more of a target than even Lia and I were, at this point. Firenze's traitorous son. Secret brother-in-arms to Lord Forelli. Newest owner of the wretched Castello Paratore.

  I yanked up again on Lia's saddle, and this time it gave way. I turned and threw it over her mare's back. "Go. Both of you. Create some sort of diversion so that I might emerge with my and Lia's mounts and not attract any attention. For now that you have both been in here for five minutes, with me, there is cause for attention."

  "As you wish, m'lady," Luca said, clearly seeing the wisdom of my words. He turned to stride out but waited at the doorway for Rodolfo.

  With one long glance into my eyes, Rodolfo turned, took his gelding's reins, and followed his captain out.

  Lia entered then, looking after the departing, glowering knights and back to me.

  "Don't ask," I said.

  ***

  The men said their farewells to Marcello, who stubbornly remained in his chair in the Great Hall, rather than going back to bed where I knew he'd be most comfortable. But that was up to him to figure out—I could only encourage him so far without nagging him.

  "Never without men to guard them," Marcello said to Luca, nodding toward me and Lia. "To the crossroads and back." I slid my broadsword into the sheath at my back as Lia shouldered her bow.

  "As you say, m'lord," Luca agreed. But his expression said, Are you really looking, Cousin? These girls are ready, with or without me.

  I hid a smile and left through the castello gates, surrounded by ten of the most highly trained Forelli knights, and riding alongside Lia. A half mile distant, at the crossroads, we dismounted and said farewell to Lords Santi, Colombo, Hercolani, Gallo and Rizzo, then Sir Mantova, apparently the only guy without a piece of land in the bunch. Each took my hand and kissed it. Conte Lerici was the last to draw near, but he went to Lia first. "If you shall ever deem Sir Luca wanting, you know where you may find me," he said, holding her hand and winking at Luca.

  "That's quite enough, Lerici," Luca said with a smile, but there was steel behind his eyes.

  What was this? I wondered. Someone was giving Luca a little competition?

  Conte Lerici moved over to me and kissed my hand. "Thank you for coming to our aid, m'lord," I said. "Had you not..." I shook my head. "My family, the entire Forelli household, owes you many times over."

  "Think nothing of it," he said, smiling into my eyes. "'Twas a dual honor to serve the She-Wolves as well as my brothers."

  "Rest assured, it won't be forgotten."

  "I hope not," he said, giving me a genteel nod. "Until the fine day we cross paths again, Lady Forelli." He nodded again toward Lia. "Lady Betarrini."

  The Lerici knights rode out then, so elegant in their camel capes, their bows across their shoulders. Not a one of them had been lost in battle, and yet they'd succeeded in taking many of our enemies down. A shiver ran down my back as they grew small on the horizon, galloping now, intent on making it home before sundown.

  "Luca," I said as he helped me back into my saddle. Rodolfo was lifting Lia to hers.

  "Yes, m'lady?"

  "Is the village named Cavo far from here?"

  "Cavo, m'lady?" he said with a frown. "Nay, it's but a quarter-hour away."

  "I would like to stop there. The day is clear, our guests properly seen off. And I made a promise to a dying man to speak to his young widow."

  "Your husband bade me promise to see you to the crossroads and home, nowhere else."

  "Yes, well, had I known Cavo was so close, I might have suggested it to him. Come, we won't take long."

  Luca squinted his eyes and peered across the horizon. "What is it?" I asked, so only he could hear. "The Fiorentini are long gone, yes? Your patrols have cleared the wood of every one. Even now, there are three more patrols along the border, yes?"

  He didn't answer me immediately, seemingly considering my request. "It'd be best if you sought your husband's permission before taking your journey."

  I drew myself upright and lowered my chin. "I might be my lord's lady, but I am my own woman still."

  Luca smiled and cocked his head. "That you are." He waved the twins forward, as well as Captain Pezzati and Rodolfo, then sent them ahead, presumably to make certain that nothing unwelcome greeted us in the village or en route. The rest of us moved out at a more leisurely pace. It felt good to be out; the sun was shining, and it was about fifty degrees—cold and crisp. A clean sort of day, my mom would call it.

  "Can't you do something about this?" Lia asked, quietly enough that only I could hear. She gestured toward her sidesaddle. "I mean, as lady of the castle, wife to one of the Nine, can't you make a royal decree or whatever to say, 'Hey, girls get to ride in whatever kind of saddle they want!'"

  I smiled over at her. "Wish I could. You know Mom and Dad's stance on that kind of thing. Avoid anything we can that might change�
�"

  "—the course of history," she finished for me. We both had heard it ten times. "But it's kinda tough, being us," she said, with a conspiratorial grin. "When you enter into medieval times as She-Wolves, it's a little hard to change up your stride."

  "I'll say." We rode a bit in silence. "Wouldn't it be cool if we could introduce jeans?" I whispered.

  "Jeans? Just pave the way for pants of any sort, and I'd be happy. And a decent bra and underwear, please, while you're at it."

  "Oh, Lia, toothpaste. I miss that most of all, I think. That baking soda mixture Mom whips up is disgusting. I'd kill for minty fresh breath again." Even Vivaro's coal and mint sticks hadn't been quite the same—

  "Minty fresh breath?" she said. "I'd trade that for a roll of TP. Oh, no. I take that back. I'd trade it for tampons. This on the rag stuff is totally primeval." She looked over at me. "Can't you at least get decent latrines in order at the castello? I mean, there were latrines in Roman times, so it's not totally out of order."

  "Yeah, Mom's on that track too. I think we might be able to move on that front."

  A whistle echoed down the road, and we looked up to see Rodolfo on the ridge, his gelding dancing beneath him. He gave a motion to Luca, telling him all was clear and he was moving on to another flank. Then Captain Pezzati joined him, and they rode off together.

  "So what came down in the stables with Lord Dangerous?" Lia asked, watching him go.

  "Nothing. Luca's all freaked out any time we're in a room together." I shook my head in frustration. "Which doesn't make things easier."

  "Luca's the same way with me. He doesn't trust Greco."

  "I get it. I do. But the man gave up everything for us. I think we all need to just chill out and give it another go. The whole trust thing."

  "He's pretty miserable," she said. "Caught. Between Siena and Firenze. And..." I met her intent gaze, and she looked away, to her horse. "...other things," she finished in a mumble.

  I swallowed hard. "He'll find his path. We just have to give him a little time." But in my mind, I was replaying the scene in the stables. How could Rodolfo find the space to sort out his feelings, his direction, if even his closest friends leaped to the worst conclusions?

  "That's what I was trying to tell him the other night," she said. "When he was in the stocks. It could be a new beginning for him. Kind of like coming here has been for us. Do we miss our old lives? Yes. But it's mostly the conveniences, the knowns. Could we have had good lives there, in 'Normandy'? Sure. Would it have been easier there? Sure. But that doesn't take away from the value of what we can find here."

  I smiled and stared over at her. "For my baby sis, you sure are a wise old woman. Did he hear you? Listen to you?"

  She smiled over my praise and then looked to the horizon, where we'd glimpsed Rodolfo. "I don't know. That man runs deep. He's like that lake in Missouri."

  "Oh, yeah!" I said. A few years ago, we'd gone to some archeological symposium with our parents in Branson, of all places. And being the geeks they were, they'd hooked up with some naturalist who led us on a hike into a tiny lake. The lake ran so deep, there were sightless, colorless creatures at the bottom that had never seen the sun. But it also offered some of the cleanest, freshest water available for miles. The Indians once thought it had medicinal properties. That was totally Rodolfo—sparkling and beautiful on the top, with something else, dark and mysterious lurking beneath.

  The question was: how were we to deal with what lurked beneath?

  I'd talk to Tomas the minute we got back. He might have some idea on how to help our friend. Our friend. The phrase echoed through my mind.

  "Lia, what did you want to talk to me about last night?" I asked, forcing my thoughts to other subjects.

  "Oh, two things, really. One is this whole brotherhood thing," she said, dropping her tone again. "They're all really closed-mouthed about it. Do you have the scoop?"

  "Not much," I said, shaking my head. "I gather it's part of the deal—kind of like a secret society, of sorts."

  "Even your wifely status doesn't grant you access?"

  "Not yet, anyway. Why? Why do you care so much?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems like we should know the details now that we've fought alongside them all. Or most of them, anyway. Lerici hinted that now that Firenze knows of them, there might be trouble. And I don't like being kept out of it." She shifted on her saddle. "And Luca—"

  "The village of Cavo, m'lady," said the knight ten feet in front of me. I frowned, my attention swinging from my sister to our escort.

  Now that I was here, what was I to say to Mrs. Mancini? I felt totally unprepared. We pulled our steeds to a stop as Luca inquired about the right house. The young girl in the doorway looked us all over, taking in the Forelli gold, then widening her eyes when she spied me and Lia. Quickly, she picked up a basket and came out to point toward the house, still a ways down the road. Luca nodded his thanks, and she gave him a little bob of a curtsy, blushing a bit.

  Then she waited, eyes round, hands clutching the basket at her hip, until we moved past. Time and again, I still couldn't get used to that whole star struck thing we seemed to bring on anytime anyone recognized the "She-Wolves." I hoped that someday, somehow, that would fade.

  It probably would. Something new would take our place. Something more interesting, as we settled into the normal seasons of medieval life. If we could just stay out of battle...and not get kidnapped...that kind of thing just kept growing our legend, for obvious reasons. There were some wild stories out there. Stories of me and Lia heading into battle blindfolded, just to have a real challenge. Stories of us binding our legs together like we were some three-legged monster female knight, to show off our skills all the more. Stories of me slipping out of the cage in Firenze, the mansion in Roma, using magical abilities. Stories of me swimming the length of the Arno River, underwater. The men of the brotherhood had all been trading those stories last night, partially teasing us, partially honoring us.

  Ridiculous. It'd taken every ounce of strength we had just to survive every battle, make each escape. It was a miracle, really, that we were whole and healthy at the moment. We could've died in so many ways on so many occasions. "Let them tell their tales," Marcello had said to me when I tried to correct them. "You give our people hope. Does it matter if they garner that through truth or some variation of the truth? Hope is hope."

  Luca pulled to a stop, and I focused on the young woman in the tiny front yard of a cottage. Signora Mancini. She was hoeing a garden furrow, turning over dead plants, tilling the soil. But when she spied us, she stopped, placed both hands on the top of the handle and held on tight as if it might steady her. I could read her thoughts in her wide, brown eyes.

  Seeing such a party wearing the Forelli colors, seeing me and Lia, meant one thing. Her husband wasn't coming home. If he was alive, we would've sent for her or brought him to her.

  Luca glanced back at me, wondering how I wished to proceed. I slipped my feet from the stirrups and slid from the saddle, ignoring decorum. I had to get to her before she collapsed. I nudged aside a nosy goat that trotted up to greet me. And I strode toward her, not stopping, until I stood directly before her. "Signora Mancini?"

  She nodded numbly, her eyes wide and unseeing now. Her nose was round, bumpy, and her cheeks sunken, her arms terribly thin. Clearly, they'd had little. But the loss, the vacuum I sensed opening within her, told me they had once had much in each other.

  "Per favore," I began. "Might we go inside to speak privately?"

  She nodded again, still not quite focusing on me. But she turned and dragged herself toward the tiny cottage, dropping the hoe beside her as if she had forgotten she once held it at all.

  "M'lady?" Luca said, one eyebrow cocked. He'd dismounted, come up beside me. But I waved him away. No one had thought to set a trap for me here. Unless it was one of the cats that weaved in and out of the front door, which was partially askew. "I'll remain right here," he said quietly, po
sitioning himself by the door.

  I followed the young woman inside and blinked in the darkness. The cottage was perhaps ten by ten feet, with a tiny ledge of a "kitchen," a miniscule table with two chairs, and a bed. It was old, the walls crumbling, but the bed was neat and tidily made, with a threadbare but clean, woven blanket.

  "How long have you been married?" I asked her, taking a chair, gesturing to the other one, when it became obvious she was so lost in her own thoughts that she would never offer me a seat.

  "What?" she asked dimly, falling heavily into the other one and rubbing her temple. "Oh. Two weeks, as of a few days ago," she said.

  I waited for her to settle, to ask me why I'd come. But she only ran her fingers around her right temple and stared out the window.

  "Signora Mancini, do you know who I am?" It was important that she focus. That she remember what I was about to tell her. Otherwise, I feared she'd go on hoeing that garden, day and night, dim with shock and waiting for her husband to return to her.

  "You are Lady Gabriella Betarrini," she mumbled, still staring out the window.

  Close enough, I decided. Many had not yet heard we'd wed. "And what is your name?"

  "Bibiana Mancini, m'lady."

  I paused. "Bibiana, forgive me, but I'm afraid I come with a hard word."

  "Oh?" Her fingers dropped to her lap. She froze, waiting for me to go on. But she didn't look my way.

  Gently, I reached for her hand and covered it with both of my own, pulling her to face me. I looked up into her eyes, swallowing hard around a lump in my throat. "It hurts me to tell you this, but your husband died. He was wounded in battle. In the end, the wounds were too grave for him to survive."

  Her big, brown eyes stared down into mine.

  "Bibiana?" I whispered.

  "He can't be gone. He can't." Tears welled in her eyes, and she continued to stare at me without blinking.

  For a moment I thought about Marcello—how scared I'd been that I was about to lose him forever. I remembered losing my dad—and the terrible, dark chasm of grief that had opened for all of us afterward. "I wish I came with a different word," I said. "But nay. He is buried with other knights who so bravely fought for Siena. Forgive me for not sending for you to take part in the funeral. I was..." I looked to the window. What? "Busy?" I swallowed hard. "You can come to Castello Forelli when you are ready to pay your respects. I'll take you there myself."