Torrent (3 page)

“We have been away since the great battle,” I said. “We escaped and went home for a time and came back to find Firenze had retaken these lands. Our friends at Castello Forelli are long gone. Pray, tell us what has transpired.”

“Why did you not go directly to Siena?” he pressed with a grumble, as the children gave us our mugs of hearty stew. “It would’ve been far safer. And without horses? Guards? Do you not know what could happen to you—to us, for hiding you?”

I stared back at him. “Trust me when I say we had no other option.”

“Siena owes you a great deal,” he said with a slow nod. “And as a loyalist, I do too. We lost this edge of the border, and the castellos, but we held a great deal. Most credit the Ladies Betarrini and Lord Forelli and his men for accomplishing that.”

My heart pounded at the sound of the Forelli name on his lips. “Lord Forelli—do you speak of Marcello?”

He nodded, once. “Lord Fortino has long languished in Firenze’s prison.”

I paused, absorbing his words.
Fortino in prison?
Still?
No. It’s not possible…
“How long?” I asked.

“Since the battle ended, more than a year ago now.”

I glanced at Lia and Mom. A year ago. It’d been autumn when we left. It was winter now, so I figured we’d returned about fifteen months later. Fifteen months! Had Marcello given up on me?

“Fortino still lives?”

He shook his head gently. “I have not heard a report in some time, but we hear very little in the country.”

“Especially on this side of the border,” his wife added.

I sighed. Fortino had been in such poor shape when we last saw him—beaten and bloody—how could he have survived more than a year in prison?

“Lord Marcello has been given the title in Lord Fortino’s absence and made one of the Nine.”

“One of the Nine?” Lia asked in wonder. “He’s in Siena?”

“As we speak,” Signore Giannini said. “He resides in Lord Rossi’s palazzo.” He stared at me, still clearly wondering why we hadn’t gone there first.

“And the Rossis?” I asked. “What became of them?”

“Tried for treason and hanged at the city gates,” he said with satisfaction. “Every last one of them.”

I shuddered, thinking of Lady Romana, her father, and the rest of the family strung up from the gallows. They deserved it, for their treachery. How many Sienese had died trying to turn back an attack the Rossis had helped orchestrate? Hundreds? Thousands? But still, I had known them. Eaten with them, conversed with them…slept in their house. And poor Fortino. He’d almost married Romana, seemed to genuinely care for her. What damage had that heartache done to his battle for life?

We each had a few bites of stew, conscious that we were taking the family’s only food, and filled up on water.

“You can sleep here tonight,” Signore Giannini said. “But I must insist you be gone before daybreak.”

“What would happen if we were discovered here?” Dad asked.

Our host looked at him as if he were crazy. “We had to swear our allegiance to Firenze in order to keep our farm. My family and I would die if they knew of our betrayal,” he said. “And the man who found you would be very rich. The bounty for the Ladies Betarrini has been set for more than any other in my lifetime.”

“A price on your heads,” Dad muttered under his breath in English. “Just what we needed.”

Lia smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said lowly. “We’re used to it.”

Chapter Three

The Gianninis managed to borrow a neighbor’s horse and gave us two of their own, too. Although one was an ancient nag with a sway back and another carried both me and Lia, we made good time; by noon we were about halfway to Siena.

As the forest thinned and the road widened, I got more and more excited about seeing Marcello. “He remains your own,” Signora Giannini had said. “Long has he pined for you, even while he draws the eye of many eligible young women. Hurry to him,” she said with a sideways squeeze of my shoulders. “He will be beside himself with joy.”

I intended to. In fact I continually fought the urge to break our horse into a full-on gallop. We’d just turned the bend when we saw twenty-four men on horseback, coming our way. “Good guys?” Dad asked.

“They have to be, this far in,” I said, hoping my tone conveyed more confidence than I felt. After all, it had been right about here that we’d once been ambushed on the road to Siena. “If they were Fiorentini, they’d hardly be so bold.”

We pulled up and waited for the men. In minutes they were before us, their horses prancing on the muddy road. “State your name and business,” demanded the captain, his brown eyes snapping from one of us to the next.

“We are the Betarrini family, on our way to see Lord Forelli,” Dad said, just as we’d rehearsed it.

The younger man beside the captain let his mouth drop open, then abruptly closed it. They shared a glance and he nodded once. “It is they. I met them more than a year ago in the Rossi palazzo. At a ball.” His eyes traveled up and down me, then across Lia, obviously thinking we didn’t look nearly as hot as we had then. And we weren’t riding sidesaddle, causing many men to crane their heads for another look.

“We shall escort you to Lord Forelli,” the captain said. “While these roads have remained safe for some time, Marcello would have our heads if any harm came to you.”

My eyes met his. “You know Marcello?”

He smiled, and I saw a cute gap between his front teeth. “Since we were boys,” he said with a nod. “I am Captain Anselmo Palmucci. This is my brother, Alessio,” he said, looking to the younger man beside him.

“I am Lady Gabriella Betarrini.” I went on to introduce my sister and parents. Then we moved out, down the road, Captain Palmucci and his brother flanking me and my sister, while others protected my parents. An extra mount was found for my sister, and the men insisted my mother not travel on the old nag’s sway back.

“Hardly appropriate,” said Captain Palmucci, “for any of the Ladies Betarrini to travel on anything less than a fine mount.” Arrangement were made to send the horses back to the Gianninis, and we moved out at a faster pace.

“We have been gone for some time,” I said. “We gained word my father was alive—not dead, as we had presumed—and we were blessed to find him. Tell me, what has transpired for Siena in the last year?”

“We turned the Fiorentini back in the great battle, but, as I assume you know, we lost both Castello Forelli and Castello Paratore, as well as another outpost on our northwest border. Since then there have been skirmishes here and there but no further battle.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They taunt us; we taunt them. But it is all bravado, an effort to keep the enemy in line.”

“And…Lord Fortino Forelli? What word have you about him?”

Captain Palmucci hesitated and then looked at me from the corner of his eye. “He remains imprisoned. The Fiorentini have been most vile in their treatment of him, but as of a month ago, he still lived.”

I swallowed hard. It took little for me to remember the cold, shivering nights of the cage, the people throwing rotten fruit at me as I entered the city. How much worse had Fortino suffered? How much more could he tolerate, given his once-weakened health? The last time we were here, such continuous trauma would have sent him into asthmatic fits.

“Marcello must have plans to free him,” I said.

“He has tried every
diplomatic
road possible.”

I stared hard at him. Diplomatic, right. But by now Marcello had to be thinking of something more Tough Guy. Like storming the city. The problem was that Firenze seemed to have twice the men Siena had. Hand to hand, our soldiers could be easily turned back. We needed a diversion to draw them out…or gain a way in.

I thought of Lord Greco, the man who had both imprisoned and freed me, and how his tat matched Marcello’s—they were clearly a part of some sort of ancient brotherhood. My eyes slid over to Captain Palmucci. Was he one of them too?

“Tell me, Captain Palmucci,” I said, “how is it that I met your brother at a ball in Siena, but not you?”

“I was otherwise occupied, working on Siena’s behalf,” he said with a sly smile. “If I hadn’t been, nothing could have kept me from a celebration that boasted the Ladies Betarrini as guests.”

I smiled. Man, I loved ancient Toscana. Every guy I met liked flirting with me. If I wasn’t so into Marcello, I could definitely get used to being a popular girl—something that I’d never had a chance to do in Colorado, in my own time.

In a few hours we started to glimpse Siena—peeking through the valleys, then hidden behind hills, then visible again. Her high, red stone walls and tiled roofs served as the foundation for the white and black marble cathedral and bell tower. I fought the urge to break away from our orderly group and gallop up and into the city. I knew the way, didn’t I? Through the winding streets to the great piazza, Il Campo, and above it, to the old Rossi palace?

I forced myself to wait, to not raise alarms at the gate.
Marcello, I’m here. Can you feel me?
So strong was our connection that I almost believed we shared some sort of sixth sense about each other. I knew it was silly, but I couldn’t help wondering…

An hour later we finally entered the gates, and we could hear people shouting, spreading the news that the Ladies Betarrini had returned. By the time we reached Via di Banchi, we were mobbed, people shouting and reaching out to touch our skirts and our legs, to pat our horses. If it wasn’t for our escorts, I thought we might very well have been stopped in place, unable to move.

Captain Palmucci and his brother led the way, ordering people out of the way, forcing their way forward and tugging on our horses to follow. Lia, Mom, and I smiled as we reached out to touch the people’s hands, feeling very much like princesses receiving our public. Dad just stared in openmouthed wonder at the spectacle of it all. I was sure it all must have still seemed like a crazy dream to him. Hadn’t it felt the same to us for days the first time we came here?

“It appears Lord Forelli has gained word of your arrival,” Captain Palmucci said, all deadpan over his shoulder. I looked beyond him and grinned. Marcello was there with Luca and two other men in gold tunics, making his way to us.

When he neared, Captain Palmucci said, “M’lord, I found these fine folk on the road from Castello Forelli.”

“I’m grateful to you, friend,” Marcello said, barely pausing to clasp hands with him before coming alongside my mare. The people pushed backward, giving us a little room, a pocket of space. “M’lady,” he said, reaching up to clasp my waist and covering my face with his eyes like he was kissing it all at once.

I leaned down to hold his shoulders, and he helped me to the ground. “Gabriella, how glad I am to see you. I so feared—”

“Shh,” I said, reaching up to touch his lips. “I’m here now. And I was never far, not in my heart.”

He pulled my fingers into his and then kissed them once, twice. I threw my arms around his neck, and he kissed me then, ignoring propriety. Longingly, pressing me close. The people cheered and laughed.

A man coughed beside me. And then I knew.
Dad
.

I looked up quickly to confirm my hunch.
Great. This could be…awkward.

“Dad…uh,
Father
, this is Lord Marcello Forelli.”

Marcello’s eyes widened in surprise as they moved from me to my dad and back again. “Your…f-father?” My waist suddenly felt cold at the absence of his warm hands.

“I shall explain later,” I said hurriedly to him. “But yes. This is…uh, Lord Benedetto Betarrini.”

Marcello bowed deeply and then, keeping his head tucked in deference, said, “M’lord, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. And I humbly ask for your forgiveness over my most forward manner with your daughter.”

Dad frowned and crossed his arms, ridiculously proud of himself, totally milking the moment. If I wasn’t so happy he was alive, I would’ve killed him.

“I think I like this guy,” he whispered to me at long last. Then he reached out a hand to clasp Marcello’s, and they looked into each other’s eyes, silently communicating.

Oh, brother,
I thought, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Father, have you made the acquaintance yet of Marcello’s cousin, Luca Forelli?”

Okay, I was being totally evil, but I wanted the Protective Father Heat off my back. Dad’s eyes followed mine to Lia, who was standing with Luca and Mom. He immediately turned and went toward them.

Marcello and I shared a small smile as he took my hand in his, and we edged closer to each other again. “Ah, my love,” he said, “how I’ve missed you.”

“Forgive me my absence, m’lord.”

“All is well, now that you are once again home. Come,” he said, placing my hand on his arm. We stepped forward, gliding over the cobblestones toward Palazzo Rossi, now called Palazzo Forelli.

The crowd parted before us, people pressing back into others to make way for us as we walked side by side. Women held their hands over their mouths, tearing up, and men smiled broadly. There was one thing the Italians loved more than family and God, and that was love. And I knew that in Siena, my love for Marcello, and his for me, had already been spoken of for months. Signora Giannini had hinted at it; Captain Palmucci’s reaction to our presence had confirmed it. And now the people made it undeniable.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Luca and Lia were directly behind us, with Mom and Dad behind them. “Good to have you back, m’lady,” Luca said, cocking his head and quirking a smile.

“Me? Or my sister, Sir Luca?”

He grinned down at Lia. “Both of you. Marcello and I have been lonely wolves pacing the den, looking for our She-Wolves.”

I smiled up at Marcello, and he smiled too. “A fair assessment,” he said.

“But it appears you have had much to occupy your attention, m’lord,” I said. “I hear you’ve been made one of the Nine.”

“Largely due to you.”

“To me?”

“To you. Had it not been for your…diversion during the battle, it is likely that Siena would have suffered far greater casualties. They’d breached the gates and were only narrowly held back. Had the reinforcements that you detained arrived, Siena may well have been overcome.”

“I was more concerned with drawing them away from
you
than the city,” I said lowly.

“I understood that. But you accomplished both. The city found herself more grateful than ever to you, your sister, and mother. And after the treachery of Lord Rossi, the Nine found they were short a man. They graciously elected me.”

“I always thought you were more the soldier than the politician.”

“I don’t know,” he said, nodding toward the open, fortified door of the palazzo. “There seem to be advantages to both.”

I smiled and entered, noting the fresh coat of whitewash on the plaster walls. We climbed the stairs and entered the main hall, where there were finely carved chairs and settees scattered about, as well as a blazing fire in the old stone hearth.

Marcello shared a word with a servant, who left, presumably to fetch refreshments. Seeing that I had moved to the flame, he asked, “Are you cold, beloved?”

“Only a chill from the road, m’lord.”

He turned, and with a pull of his head, servants brought us chairs. In seconds we were settled on them, woolen blankets spread across our laps, trays of hard salami, soft cheese, and crusty bread delivered, goblets of watered wine poured. The servants disappeared, closing the doors behind them.

Only we six remained in the cavernous hall—my family, Luca, and Marcello.

“Was it quite difficult, returning?” Marcello asked, leaning forward.

“Nay,” I said. “It only took us some time to locate my father.”

His eyes moved over my parents, and then he shook his head. “’Tis a miracle.”

“Indeed,” Mom said, taking Dad’s hand.

“That is why you left? To try and save him?” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the traces of torture within them, the waiting, the wondering.

I covered his hand with mine. “It was our only escape, the tunnel,” I said. “But yes, the chance to save my father…we could do none else.” I studied him, silently begging him to understand, to forgive me for leaving him again.

He gave me the small, tender smile I loved so, his eyes warm like melted chocolate. “So your story shall be that you were away, searching for your father in Normandy—”

“Britannia. Let’s make it Britannia,” Dad put in.

“Britannia,” Marcello said easily. “We’ve told some that you originally hailed from that far north—in case rumors spread that English is your alternative language—but that you spent some time in Normandy. A bit farther apace will be a good thing. Already there are men in Normandy seeking you.”