The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge (30 page)

“
Was
the sword of a knight,” Darian corrected sadly. “He has no need of it any longer and you have no weapon. We shall need every bladesman we can muster. Tak
e it.”

Loris hesitated for a moment before finally accepting the sword and fastening it about his waist. His fingers stroked the ridges of the handle as he admired the silver details of its
hilt.

Darian mounted Obsidian and took the reins, surveying the carnage with regret. “We cannot possibly bury them all now. But once we have taken care of Savino, we shall return to give these men a proper bu
rial.”

“The cold weather will preserve them,” Porfiro off
ered.

Darian dug his heels into Obsidian’s belly and the small band of men pressed onward, their morale at a new
low.

“
Gone?”
Savino shouted from the dining table, slamming his knife down so hard that it slipped from his hand and fell onto the stones with a metallic clink. “How could they be
gone?”

Lord Gaspar ignored the outburst, quietly dotting his mouth with a napkin as his eyes followed the two warriors before the king. The older guard stepped forward as if to take responsibi
lity.

“Your Majesty, we do not know how they managed to escape, but it was sometime during the coronation ban
quet.”

Savino’s eyes were scathing. “And just what were you two doing when they managed to es
cape?”

The men exchanged sheepish glances before the younger one finally spoke up. “Your Majesty, by royal decree, everyone was requested to take part in the festivities. We thought we were following orders by enjoying a glass of
wine.”

“Are all tribal warriors as incompetent as you?” Savino asked acidly. “That decree did not include men standing guard! Who is your commander? Ta
lvan?”

“No, Sire. De
imos.”

Savino turned to Gaspar. “You shall see to it personally that this incident is made an example of. I want these two separated from their heads before
noon.”

Both of the warriors gasped in ho
rror.

“Yes, Sire,” Gaspar answered, rising from the t
able.

“And I want Deimos’ head brought to me on a silver pla
tter.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He motioned to the warriors at the door to take the men away who had been at f
ault.

“Oh, and, Ga
spar?”

“Yes,
Sire?”

“Do we have
any
prisoners
left?”

“Only Co
zimo.”

“Well, after you have taken care of these two and brought me Deimos’ head, bring the old man to me. I want a word with
him.”

“As you
wish.”

“It concerns me not if you must break down every door in Crocetta, but I want those prisoners
f
ound!”

CHAPTER 28

TERRACINA

When Mark awoke the next morning, he immediately sensed that something was different. The ship no longer rocked to and fro, but gently bobbed up and down instead. Noticing that Celino and Adalina had already left the cabin, he jumped out of his hammock and hastily pulled on his clo
thes.

Bounding up the steps two at a time, his eyes squinted as they met the harsh glare of the morning sun. The temperature was much warmer than previous days and there wasn’t a single cloud in the clear blue skies. When he surveyed his surroundings, he gasped in surp
rise.

The ship was docked in the shallow, sparkling waters of a harbor nestled against a magnificent, mountainous city. Large but quaint cream-colored houses topped with blue terracotta roofs dotted the hillside, each of them reminiscent of the Spanish mission style. They were surrounded by large palm trees, lush tropical plants, and exotic gardens filled with colorful flo
wers.

Rows upon rows of these majestic villas with their grandiose patios lay staggered up a series of steep hills which stopped just short of rocky, white cliffs. Beyond the city and above the cliffs were a series of rolling green hills with tall, skinny trees pointing up to the heavens. Far in the distance, dark rows of parallel lines ran over the hills in near-perfect symmetry; the unmistakable patterns of vineyards cultivating their luxurious bo
unty.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Celino remarked, smiling at the
view.

“It’s ama
zing.”

“I never pass up a chance to come here. It always reminds me of the California of my youth,” he said wistfully, staring down at the water. It was a dazzling color of azure blue and so clear that the multi-colored fish swimming around the bow looked as if they were floating under a magnifying g
lass.

“How did we make it here so
fast?”

“We had a strong wind at our back. Shaved a full day and a half off our jou
rney.”

“But we weren’t supposed to arrive for another two
days.”

“Here, it’s not about sticking to a schedule. It’s about getting somewhere as fast as possible.” He pointed to the bustle of activity on the wharf as men offloaded their fish, spices and cargo. “You see all this trading, buying and selling going on? They’re just trying to get the stuff to market as soon as poss
ible.”

“It’s a lot warmer
here.”

“That’s because we’re hundreds of miles further to the s
outh.”

“Are those vineyards there in the dist
ance?”

“That they are. And they make some of the best wine. In fact, the Fiore vineyards are just over those h
ills.”

“Can we go see them?” Mark a
sked.

“Perhaps some other time. We need to find King Bertoldo today and figure out what we’re going to do with you
two.”

“Good morning,” Adalina chirped. “Is it not beaut
iful?”

Mark smiled. “Morning, Adalina. Did you sleep
well?”

“Yes, thank you. How wonderful that we are already here. And what a beautiful city thi
s is!”

“So where do we go from
here?”

“To the royal palace at Garibaldi.” He picked his bag up off the deck. “Let’s get g
oing.”

They thanked the captain and walked down the narrow gangplank, stepping onto the dusty, gray cobblestone of the harbor’s main street. After strolling past the merchants’ stalls proudly displaying fresh fruit, fish, spices, basketware and leather goods, Celino spotted a carriage shop and was able to arrange for one that would take them to the palace immedia
tely.

The short, no-nonsense driver said nothing as he opened the door and tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for them to step in. Slamming the door behind them, he leapt up into the driver’s seat and cracked the whip. Mark wasn’t seated yet when the carriage lurched forward, sending him into Adalina’s
lap.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he stammered, retreating to the other side of the carriage where he finally plunked down, his face flus
hing.

Embarrassed by the smile of amusement on her lips, he turned his attention out the window toward the palm trees, cypresses and exotic wildflowers that filled the lush landscape. The carriage climbed the steep hillside, taking them higher and higher above the level of the sea. When he glanced back behind them, he gasped in awe at the breathtaking view of the ocean, perfectly punctuated with rays of sunlight dancing and sparkling on the tips of the w
aves.

Although they had been traveling for more than an hour, it seemed like only minutes when the carriage turned off the main road and onto a long gravel driveway toward the royal palace of Garibaldi. An imposing, wrought iron gate embedded with a large, curling G guarded the entr
ance.

Hearing their carriage approach, a brawny, uniformed soldier wearing a bronze breastplate emerged from the guard house. As it slowed to a stop in front of him, Adalina leaned her head out of the wi
ndow.

“I am her Royal Highness, Princess Adalina Fiore,” she announced. “I have come to beg the assistance of King Bert
oldo.”

The soldier nodded, motioning for them to pass. The other guard pulled the gate open, allowing them to enter, and the carriage drove onto a long lane flanked on both sides with tall cypress trees that pointed toward the
sky.

With Adalina’s attention distracted out the window at the breathtaking scenery, Mark quietly admired her profile. In the way she sat with her hands clasped neatly together on her lap, she seemed so much older than her fifteen years. The girls he knew in school were so immature that they seemed light years behind
her.

He gazed out the window as they approached the palace, his jaw dropping in amazement. At the end of the road, there was a round driveway with a white marble fountain in its center. Built of alternating white and gray marble, the front entrance consisted of seven large columns arranged in a semicircle around a rotunda foyer. The palace was four stories high with more than fifty windows all overlooking the ocean; each of them offering additional magnificent views of the palace grounds and adjoining es
tate.

“Welcome!” A man wearing green robes of thick brocade and a golden belt hurried down the marble steps to meet them. In his late thirties, the short, dark-haired gentleman held his hand out to Adalina as she stepped down from the carriage. “Welcome, honored gu
ests.”

“Good morning, Sire. I am Her Highness, Princess Adalina Fiore of Crocetta. This is His Royal Highness, Prince Marcus Fiore and our advisor, Celino.” Adalina’s chin rose slightly. “Our home city has been captured by hostile forces and we have come to beg for assist
ance.”

The man bowed deeply. “We are most honored with your presence, Your Highnesses. I am Rinaldo, His Majesty’s Lord Chamberlain and Head of household. I shall take you at once to see the
king.”

“Oh, so then he is at home? We had not expected to find him in residence at this
time.”

“His Majesty is present and shall be most happy to welcome you, Your Highness,” Rinaldo answered. He bowed to her and stretched out his hand, motioning for them to step in
side.

He led them into a stunning rotunda with an intricate mosaic floor depicting the colors of the sea in colorful shades of aqua blue, cobalt and turquoise. In its center was a marble table containing an exotic yet simple flower arrangement. On the round ceiling high above them, a large, glass dome provided natural light while painted, golden flowers curved and swirled in elegant, sweeping patterns around it. Tropical plants and trees in porcelain vases dotted the foyer and free-form marble sculptures of women adorned each alcove. Beyond the rotunda was a broad marble staircase that split into two, leading up to the family residence on the second f
loor.

Rinaldo led them through a columned corridor into an airy sitting room where he motioned for them to
sit.

“Please wait here while I inform the king.” He disappeared down the corridor, leaving them to admire their surround
ings.

“Wow, this is really something,” whispered Mark, glancing around at the luxuriously-appointed
room.

“I would have no problem living in a place like this,” Celino stated, crossing his arms and chuckling to him
self.

“I hear the hot springs here are divine,” Adalina chime
d in.

“Hot springs?” Mark a
sked.

“Yes. They are known for their cleansing, healing properties. My brother absolutely swears by
them.”

“Darian has been
here?”

She nodded. “This is one of his favorite retr
eats.”

“I don’t blame him,” Celino comme
nted.

“Your Royal Highnesses, to what do I owe this honor?” A voice boomed at them from the end of the
hall.

King Bertoldo was a portly man in his mid-fifties with reddish-blonde hair graying slightly at the temples. His animated brown eyes crinkled in the corners and his dimpled smile displayed kindness and genero
sity.

“Your Majesty,” Adalina began, bobbing a curtsey. “We come to beg for your help on behalf of my brother, Prince Darian, and the Princess Regent, Maraya Fiore. Our cousin, Savino da Rocha has attacked the citadel and ousted the royal family. He means to crown himself king by force. I fear for both my brother’s and Maraya’s l
ives.”

Bertoldo took her hand and kissed it. “But of course I shall help you, my dear. I am most glad to welcome you into my kingdom. I only wish that it was not under such dire circumsta
nces.”

“Your Majesty, we had not expected to find you here. Were you not planning to attend the coronation?” Adalina a
sked.

“Coronation?” he asked, his face puz
zled.

“The invitations to my sister’s coronation were sent weeks ago by royal courier,” Mark added. “Didn’t you receiv
e it?”

Bertoldo shook his head. “I received no invitation to a coronation. I would not have missed it for the w
orld.”

Mark and Adalina exchanged confused glances. “Do you think it was deliberate?” he a
sked.

“It is possible that someone did not want His Majesty to attend the coronation,” Celino off
ered.

“You mean like Savino?” Mark sugge
sted.

“Fortunately for us, he’s still
here.”

“Are you not hungry for some real food after your long sea journey?” Bertoldo asked, pointing them down toward an open-air corridor. They entered a large, luxurious hall where an extensive luncheon had been prep
ared.

“Come. Let us eat,” he said, motioning for them to take a seat. “You can tell me all about our beloved allies of the N
orth.”

After they had all taken their places around the grand table filled with all kinds of fruits, breads, meats and cheeses, the king turned to Mark and touched his
arm.

“So, you are Prince Alano’s son, are
you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,
I am.”

“I must say, if I did not know better, I would think I was looking right at
him.”

He smiled. “I hear that a
lot.”

The smile faded from Bertoldo’s lips as his eyes locked solemnly on his. “I am so sorry to hear of his recent passing. Of course, for years now, we had assumed you were all dead. We were most surprised and, of course, delighted to hear that you had survived the shipw
reck.”

“Thank you,
Sire.”

Two stately young women with long red hair and a tall young man with dark red hair entered the room and approached the table. With similar facial features as the king, Mark guessed that they had to be related som
ehow.

“Ah, wonderful!” Bertoldo waved animatedly. “You are able to join us after
all!”

“Yes, papa.” The eldest girl sat without emotion, an expression of polite boredom plastered across her face. Demurely, she took her napkin and placed it in her lap, avoiding eye contact with the gu
ests.

“Your Highnesses, Sir Celino, I would be honored for you to meet my children,” Bertoldo said with pride. “This is Princess Caterina who shall one day inherit my th
rone.”

The gloomy-looking young woman next to Bertoldo nodded to Celino and Adalina with indifference before lifting her blue eyes at Mark, giving him a cold stare. She nodded once with pointed disdain, as if he were the sole reason for her sullen mood. He countered with a warm smile, but she quickly looked away, pursing her lips in obvious disappr
oval.

“Caterina will be turning nineteen this month,” Bertoldo said matter-of-factly. He motioned to the tall young man sitting across from him. “And this is my son, Costanzo. He just turned seventeen a few months
ago.”

The handsome young man sitting next to Adalina smiled shyly at them and nodded. A younger, thinner version of his father, Mark imagined King Bertoldo looking just like Costanzo at the same
age.

“And, lastly, this is my youngest daughter, Cap
rice.”

“It is an honor to meet you all,” the bubbly young woman chirped, her crystal green eyes focusing briefly on each of the guests before resting on Mark. She smiled shyly at
him.

“Shall we?” Bertoldo gestured for them all to bow their heads in prayer. He thanked Garon for the food, as well as for their safe journey across the sea. He prayed for Garon’s mercy and protection in the fight against the enemies of dark
ness.