A Shadowed Fate

by Marty Ambrose

  Allegra – alive and well.

  Oh, my dear child. I would gladly give my heart and soul to see you one more time.

  I touched one of the jasmine blooms that draped around the trellis.

  How odd that, in all the intervening seasons since our parting, the wind still whispered its sweet promise of spring, and the sun rose and set with autumnal mellowness – in a steady ebb and flow of the natural world. I marveled that it could still be so beautiful without the presence of my daughter.

  ‘Aunt Claire?’ Paula was tapping my arm gently. ‘Are you too tired to travel on?’

  ‘Not at all,’ I responded, plucking the flower from its vine. ‘I was simply appreciating this delightful jasmine.’

  Not long afterwards, the owner served us, and we enjoyed our lunch – until Georgiana grew restless and was given permission by her mama to wander in the field of wild poppies nearby. I kept a watchful eye on her. As we finished the last of the wine, Paula asked Raphael to join her on a walk, and they took Georgiana with them, strolling slowly along a gravel path that threaded through the tall grass.

  As I watched the three of them depart, I leaned back in my chair contentedly. ‘This was a pleasant interlude … it makes me almost not want to leave.’

  ‘Almost. We must move on if we are to arrive in Bologna before evening.’ Trelawny rose to his feet and scanned the field as well as the woods that lay beyond. ‘The road to the east has a steep decline after we leave Vergato, winding down the mountain with several sharp curves. I would not attempt it at night, especially with the prospect of that shadow rider.’

  Reluctantly, I pushed myself into a standing position. ‘You are right … it is best not to linger.’

  While he settled the bill, I ambled in the same direction as Paula and Raphael, feeling the late-afternoon sunlight filter through my dress with a soft warmth that seeped into my skin. Vergato had a golden quality. Isolated and serene. The kind of place that offered the traveler a restful stillness between mountains and hills – before the final descent into cities that lay below, with their crowded streets and bustling energy. And the truth of what had been hidden from me.

  Would I embrace the knowledge?

  So much had happened during the last two weeks or so that I was not certain of anything at this point; I only knew that I could not turn back.

  The road ahead moved in one direction: the future.

  As if on cue, I spied a dark-brown bird descending from on high; a rondone – a swift – skimmed along the poppy field, its scythe-like wings floating on the air. Then it gave a piercing call and flew upwards once again in a graceful arc. I had become used to seeing the swifts crowding the Tuscan skies in Florence during the summer, living most of their lives – eating, breathing and sleeping – on their wings, and I envied their freedom. But now I, too, could feel the currents of change draw me away from the known and familiar.

  The temptation to linger dissolved as I watched the swift join its flock and head east, lifting ever higher until the birds appeared to be only brown dots in the distant skies … and then vanished.

  We would follow shortly.

  Turning away, I moved toward Trelawny with a new eagerness to my steps. ‘If you see to the carriage, I will gather the rest of our party.’

  ‘We are here,’ Paula said as she approached with Raphael, hand in hand. Her flushed cheeks and happy smile suggested they had been occupied with more than observing the beauties of nature. Ah, young love …

  ‘And Georgiana?’ I inquired.

  Paula halted, her smile fading as she quickly looked around. ‘She ran ahead of us on the path, saying she wanted to pick some wildflowers for you. We were but seconds behind.’ A touch of alarm threaded through her voice as she called out Georgiana’s name several times.

  No response.

  ‘She may have circled around the café …’ I began uneasily. ‘Or gone deeper into the woods.’

  ‘I shall search the grounds,’ Trelawny said, striding toward the café.

  ‘And I will backtrack down the path.’ Raphael gave Paula a brief embrace and then added, ‘Do not fear, my love. She could not have gone far.’

  Paula clutched his hand. ‘Find her – please.’

  He kissed her hand before releasing it. Then he hurried into the thicket of trees, knocking branches out of his way and cursing in Italian.

  Biting her lip, Paula swung her gaze toward me, her blue eyes clouded with fear. ‘I never lost sight of her until just a few minutes ago. How could I have allowed this to occur? My own child … I could not live if something happened to her.’

  ‘Do not think like that,’ I said in a firm voice as I patted her arm. But, inside, I heard myself say, Yes, you could, but your heart will never be whole again – as I know only too well. ‘We must not panic because there is no reason to believe she is in danger. They will find her shortly. Truly, I believe that with every fiber of my being.’

  She gave a short nod, then hugged me tightly.

  ‘Let us walk toward the poppy field – it will calm you.’ We paced along slowly, and, in a soothing tone, I reminded her that Georgiana never strayed too far from us – ever. ‘She will come as soon as she hears Raphael call out her name – trust me.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said, gripping my arm. ‘This area is unfamiliar to her, so she could lose her way quite easily – or fall down a hill. Either one is too terrible to contemplate.’

  ‘Courage, my dear.’

  We edged along the tall grass, then walked back toward the café. We reached it at the moment Trelawny appeared once again, but when I leveled an inquiring glance his way, he simply shook his head.

  Paula’s hand went to her mouth to stifle a cry.

  ‘No trace of Georgiana – I am sorry. Come, you need to sit down.’ His features grew tight with concern as he escorted her to one of the outdoor chairs. ‘Do not fear; Raphael knows these woods fairly well from his trip here as a boy, and can move very quickly through the underbrush – much faster than I. There is no one better equipped to locate her.’

  She gave him a grateful half-smile, then slumped forward as she drew in a shaky breath.

  Knowing the deep emotions that undoubtedly were churning inside of her, I simply stayed close and watched the forest edge for any sight of Raphael. The long minutes passed in silence … endless spaces when even prayer seemed to elude me. All I could do was keep my mind fixated on the here and now. And wait. As I had done many times in my life, not knowing the outcome, but never believing all was lost until the very end.

  The cafe owner brought out glasses of water for Paula and me, but Paula waved hers away. I did the same, though I thanked him for his kindness.

  Paula began to drum her fingers on the tabletop with a nervous staccato, staring into empty space.

  More time passed, and I felt my spirits sink lower. My dear, sweet Georgiana. Please let her come back to us. But twilight would set in soon, making her recovery even more difficult …

  Just then, I heard a tiny giggle.

  Instantly, I scanned the trees and spied Raphael striding out of the woods as he carried Georgiana high in his arms. Relief flooded through me. Paula rose quickly and ran over to them, embracing her daughter with a mixture of laughter and tears.

  ‘Thank God,’ I heard Trelawny murmur.

  I closed my eyes briefly. The light had been restored to our lives.

  Trelawny and I joined them, each of us clasping Georgiana tightly, then making her promise to never wander off again.

  ‘But I wanted to pick wildflowers for you, Aunt Claire,’ she protested, holding up a handful of pink and yellow blooms. ‘They are so pretty.’

  Taking them from her, Paula added, ‘I know, but you should not have left the path without one of us.’

  Georgiana’s face drooped.

  Seeing her crestfallen features, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. ‘Everyone appreciates your thoughtfulness, Georgiana, but there are wild animals in the forest, and they can brin
g harm to a lone little girl.’

  ‘Si.’ She kicked a stone with her shoe, showing the Clairmont stubbornness even as she agreed.

  ‘Prego.’ I straightened again and looked to the west; the sun had dipped lower in the sky. ‘Let us speak no more of this, since we need to journey on to Bologna before it grows dark.’

  Trelawny scanned the horizon as well. ‘The carriage will arrive soon – and I asked the café’s owner to send for my horse.’

  ‘Excellent.’ I reached for Georgiana’s hand, but she refused my offer.

  ‘I was not alone.’ She folded her tiny arms across her chest with a mulish expression. ‘A kindly man came by on a big brown horse and showed me the way back here.’

  A warning chill swept over me. ‘Who was he? Did you recognize him?’

  ‘No – he sat too high in the saddle for me to see him.’ She gazed up. ‘And he wore a hat that hid most of his face.’

  I felt Trelawny stiffen beside me.

  Raphael frowned. ‘But I saw no one.’

  Paula gave an exclamation of impatience. ‘You are making this up, Georgiana, and I am growing quite cross with your antics. Raphael and I will take you inside the café where you are not to leave my sight until we depart.’

  ‘But, Mama—’

  ‘Silenzio.’ Paula hurried her away with Raphael in tow.

  Once they were out of earshot, I confronted Trelawny. ‘I am trying to remain calm, but the thought of someone harming Georgiana frightens me terribly. Do you think it was the rider you spotted on the road to Bagni di Lucca?’

  ‘Possibly. If so, we must be very careful in case he is still shadowing us.’

  ‘This is maddening. What could he be after?’ I spread my arms wide in helpless confusion.

  ‘Money … the Byron letters … who knows?’ He gestured in Paula’s direction. ‘Let us keep our suspicions to ourselves for now, since it will only upset your niece even more. Please, stay with them until I return – we will be underway for Bologna shortly.’

  For once, I did not argue with him.

  Our adventure seemed increasingly on the brink of calamity, and I was having a difficult time controlling my emotions.

  After striving to compose myself, I took refuge inside with Paula and Raphael. While they lectured Georgiana, I tried to appear normal and pass the time by reading Byron’s confessione from the point where I last stopped.

  Slipping it out of my bag, it did not take long for me to be caught up in the ambush outside Ravenna …

  The Woods of Filetto, Italy

  December 9, 1820

  I was going to die.

  Crouching low in my carriage, I held the loaded pistols next to my chest – ready, should I have to fight.

  I did not dare to open the carriage door to see where Guido had fallen after he took a bullet. After cracking open the window, I could hear his breathing, so I knew he was still alive – but he would not able to help should the assassin come at me in a rush.

  Another crack rang out from the shadowy forest, but the bullet missed the carriage. I heard it whistle through the trees behind us.

  Then silence.

  He was reloading.

  I realized that I had to move quickly or Guido could perish from his wound.

  Reaching for the door handle, I cocked one pistol, tucked the other one in my jacket pocket and heaved myself out of the carriage, landing on the gravel road with my good foot. I straightened, raising my pistol in the direction from where I thought the shots had come and fired. Then I tossed it aside and pulled out the second pistol, holding it high. I would face death the way I had always wanted to – on my feet without fear.

  I waited to fire again until I could target the assassin and thought I caught sight of di Breme’s servant. Stefano? Had he remained in the area after his master had died? Why?

  The forest turned deadly quiet.

  Strangely, I did not see my life flash before my mind’s eye as so many who faced their final moments. I thought only of my daughter, Allegra – and that I would never see her again in this life.

  My child of love.

  She would be the last image I had on this earth …

  Then I heard a faint rustling of tree branches and I turned, aiming the gun in its direction.

  ‘Do not shoot!’ a man’s voice shouted in a ragged tone, as if he had been sprinting a good way.

  It sounded like Pietro Gamba, but I could not say for certain.

  Not wavering in my stance, I called out to him for the password that the Carbonari used to identify its members. When he did not respond, I cocked the gun.

  ‘D … Dante Alighieri,’ he stammered. Then he emerged from the shadows, and I exhaled in relief at the sight of Pietro’s familiar face. He stumbled forward and wheezed in an effort to catch his breath, leaning one arm against his thigh as he bent over.

  ‘You followed us?’ I released the hammer and lowered my pistol.

  ‘Si.’ He took in a few more breaths before he straightened again. ‘I came by horse through the forest path. After you left, Teresa had a premonition that something would happen to you and urged me to follow. I took a shortcut and was not far behind when I heard the shots. My horse bucked and threw me – then I ran. By the time I arrived, whoever shot at you had scuttled away – il codardo.’

  ‘A coward indeed, and I may have recognized him – a spy who worked for di Breme.’ Before I could explain, the driver groaned, and I glanced back at him lying on the ground, the red stain beneath his left shoulder. He needed a doctor immediately. ‘I will fill you in later – we cannot linger.’

  ‘I will drive the carriage – my horse will find his way home.’ Pietro helped me lift Guido into the carriage. Semi-conscious, he moaned in pain as we slid him on to the cushioned seat and I bound the shoulder wound.

  Pietro climbed on to the driver’s perch as I stayed inside the carriage – and, for the second time in two days, I held a bleeding man in my arms, not sure if he would live or die.

  It took only a quarter of an hour to reach the Palazzo Guiccioli. Once we arrived, I immediately dispatched Tita for the doctor and settled Guido in my study without disturbing the servants. They were already on edge.

  Pietro and I checked Guido’s wound again by candlelight. Though still bleeding, it did not appear to be as bad as the commandant’s injuries; the bullet seemed to have exited Guido’s shoulder. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

  ‘If he dies, we must smuggle the body out of here.’ Pietro stared down at the wounded man. ‘You cannot be involved in another shooting death at the palazzo; the Austrians are looking for any excuse to arrest you—’

  ‘I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘But the assassin was aiming for you, and they suspect you are a member of the Carbonari. They will blame you.’

  I recalled the poster that had suddenly appeared all over Ravenna – with my image and the word Traditore! I had dismissed it initially but, after tonight, I realized that I must proceed with caution while Allegra resided with me. As the situation in Ravenna was growing increasingly more volatile, the danger around her also grew. I could risk my own life, but not hers.

  The time might have arrived for me to make other arrangements for my daughter to keep her out of harm’s way. Teresa had mentioned a convent in Bagnacavallo …

  Not long afterwards, Tita appeared with the doctor who cleaned and dressed the wound, declaring that Guido would survive. He then gave him a large dose of laudanum and recommended that we not move him for at least twenty-four hours.

  After he departed, Pietro and Tita soon followed, and I remained in my study – ever watchful in the night while the wounded man remained in a deep, opium-induced sleep.

  A hushed silence descended on the palazzo, but outside its walls something wild and powerful was stirring – the call to arms for every man who dreamed of freedom. It would soon overtake us and envelop the country in conflict.

  There was no stopping it now.

 
Pacing back and forth to the window, I scanned the Via Cavour several times, but saw no one lurking below. Still, I could not quiet my agitated nerves. These minor skirmishes were creating a tension that stretched across the city like a tightening noose. I longed for open war – yet feared it would never come.

  Like Dante, I wanted to see Italy step out of the abyss of tyranny and find a new way.

  Let it be soon.

  My glance fell upon the lines from The Prophecy of Dante that I had composed yesterday. I picked up the parchment and read aloud:

  The storms yet sleep, the clouds still keep their station,

  The unborn Earthquake yet is in the womb,

  The bloody Chaos yet expects Creation,

  But all things are disposing for thy doom …

  I was ready for whatever awaited me.

  As I set the manuscript sheet on my desk, I heard muffled gunshots away in the distance, and I moved back to the window.

  A far-off cry pierced the darkness below … then nothing.

  It promised to be a long night.

  SIX

  ‘But few shall soar upon that eagle’s wing,

  And look in the sun’s face, with eagle’s gaze,

  All free and fearless …’

  The Prophecy of Dante, III, 70–72

  Vergato, Italy (en route to Bagnacavallo)

  July 1873

  A tap on my shoulder startled me.

  I glanced up to see Trelawny, though my mind was still in the world of pre-revolution Ravenna. Assassins in the dark. Secret societies. Lies and betrayals. A time of such dangerous uncertainty. As I refocused my attention on the present, I noted everyone else in our little cortege had already left the café. Fumbling to remove my spectacles, they slipped from my hands and fell on the floor. He retrieved them, murmuring that we were ready to leave Vergato.

  ‘It should be an uneventful trip,’ Trelawny continued, ‘now that Georgiana has been suitably chastised.’