Pulchritude

by Ana Mardoll

  A few minutes passed before she saw Marchetta slowing walking the path from the house to the village road. Her sister looked up at Fiorita's window, but Fiorita could not make out her expression clearly through the thick glass. She saw Marchetta wave to let her know she was leaving, and Fiorita waved back.

  "Marchetta thinks that Bella is dead," Fiorita realized sadly. And that meant Mama thought so as well. Marchetta had said that if Mama could convince the council to act soon, they would leave to look for Bella, but what did that really mean? "We'll go back to the city," she guessed. They would look for Bella along the way, but if they really thought Bella was gone, they wouldn't waste much time on the road. They'd be too focused on getting safely home.

  The thought of going home without Bella churned her stomach. Marchetta had said there was no magician, but Fiorita couldn't give up the one thing they had to go on. It was no wonder that Mama and Marchetta were discouraged, if they thought the magician was nothing more than fantasy. It suddenly struck her that perhaps she could search for Bella. She hadn't thought to do so before because she'd believed that Cienzo would bring Bella back. But if he wasn't going to and if Mama was stuck dealing with the village council, she might be the only one who would try. "But where do I start?" she wondered.

  Marchetta was right: there was a lot of ground out there to cover. Cienzo had left in the evening and had not returned until well after sunrise the next morning. And they had left by cart, which was faster than walking. Still, she had to start somewhere. "Half the time would have been the drive back, wouldn't it?" she thought, trying to imagine Cienzo's route. "He must have gone by road, because he wouldn't leave the cart by itself."

  She was peering through the window at the point where she had last seen Bella and grappling with the choice of leaving now or talking to Marchetta first, when she noticed a man standing silently on the road and staring at the house. Though Fiorita could not see his face clearly through the window, something about the man seemed familiar. After a moment, she realized it was his tunic that jogged her memory.

  He had passed by the house several times that week, always walking slowly and with one eye trained on the house. Fiorita had seen him from her vantage point on the porch and couldn't help but notice that his rich green tunic contrasted sharply with the workday browns that the other villagers wore. When he caught her watching him, he had smiled; a little nervously, perhaps, but that was more kindness than the villagers showed her. She had the impression that he looked at her a little sadly. "Maybe he's heard gossip about us," Fiorita thought.

  Feeling bold, Fiorita dashed down the stairs and out of the house, hoping to reach the road before he moved on. Maybe he would travel with her part of the way down the road to ... well, until she found Bella or gave up, she supposed. It would be nicer to have a companion on the road instead of traveling alone.

  He was still standing there when she burst out of the house and called out, "Hello!" He looked startled and Fiorita thought he might hurry off; plaintively she called "Oh, no, please wait!" The man hesitated, but to her relief he stayed where he was.

  It took her only a moment to run across the field to the road, but once there she doubled over, slightly gasping for breath. "Excuse me ..." she said politely between breaths, "but I didn't want ... you to leave without ... me saying 'hello'." She sucked in a lungful of air and felt herself regaining her wind. "I hope you won't mind me asking, but if you're going down the road, can I walk with you -- oh!"

  This last part was uttered as she looked up and realized that the man had a horse with him, a beautiful brown stallion tied to a nearby copse of trees. The trees had shielded the animal from her eyes until she drew close. "If he's wealthy enough to own a horse like that, he must be from the city," Fiorita realized with surprise.

  Like most men, this one was taller than her but shorter than Marchetta. He had dark hair and a light olive complexion that contrasted pleasantly with his rich clothing. He was watching her warily, as though afraid she might hurt him. Fiorita felt silly, bursting out of the house and frightening him like she had. "I'm so sorry," she said, a little shyly. "I was going to ask if you were walking down the road and if you would mind my company, but I see you aren't walking at all," she smiled and nodded at the horse, which was quietly munching on a dandelion. "Please have a good day," she said cheerfully, and with a parting nod to the gentleman, she headed resolutely down the road.

  Fiorita was surprised to hear the man untie his horse and follow her on foot down the road. He caught up with her quickly, and fell in beside her; his long strides slowed to match her pace and his horse walked patiently beside him. Fiorita cleared her throat nervously and glanced sideways at the man, who was watching her closely. "You really don't have to walk with me," she assured him. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she thought nervously. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and wondered if she oughtn't turn around and run home.

  "Oh no," the man said solemnly. "I wasn't raised to let a lovely lady walk alone without an escort." She shot him a worried glance, sure that he was mocking her -- or worse, threatening her -- but the smile he flashed was so warm and friendly that she couldn't help but smile in return. "Besides," he said, and his voice warmed with the smile, "Charger likes to rest. He's such a lazy thing." He shook his head with exaggerated sorrow, and Fiorita laughed out loud at the sight.

  "Charger? Is that your horse?" she asked, gazing admiringly at the animal on the other side of the man. Since moving from her home in the city, she rarely had an occasion to see horses, and this one was particularly beautiful with its glossy dark coat and deep black eyes.

  "A very ill-fitting name, I assure you," the man said. "I'd offer to let you pet him, but he bites."

  Fiorita glanced from the beast's dark eyes to the man's laughing ones, and couldn't decide if he was teasing or not. "And what's your name?" she asked, again feeling quite shy.

  "Flavio," he said. He worked a bow fluidly into his walk without altering his gait. "It is equally ill-fitting, I'm afraid. My good mother named me for my head of golden hair that turned brown almost before I began to walk." He flashed that bright teasing smile at her again.

  She gave him a shy smile in return. "I'm Fiorita," she volunteered, realizing that etiquette would prevent the man from asking her directly. She felt she should say something else, but it had been such a long time since she had spoken with anyone other than Mama and Marchetta that she wasn't sure where to start.

  "A lovely name," Flavio said smoothly, but for the first time in the short conversation he seemed otherwise lost for words.

  They walked in silence for a few moments while Fiorita fretted. The man seemed nice enough, but her plan of accompanying him as far as his destination and then continuing on alone had somehow changed into his apparent intention of following her aimlessly wherever she went. She couldn't imagine that he was motivated by courtesy alone. She was considering turning back home -- "Better safe than sorry," she thought -- when he cleared his throat and said, "This road, I think, leads away from the village?"

  "Yes, I believe so," Fiorita said carefully.

  "May I ask ..." He hesitated nervously, "May I ask why a young lady is walking to the countryside without an escort?"

  Fiorita stared straight ahead, unsure how to answer. "I could say I'm visiting a friend," she thought, "Or gathering herbs." Neither of those answers were true, and she hated to lie without a good reason. The man must have some idea of who they were; there would be gossip about the missing girl, spread by the council families and the servants who had left. She looked at him directly and said, "I'm looking for my sister, Bella."

  If possible, the man looked even more uncomfortable. "I had wondered if that might be the case," he said, his tone apologetic. "I've heard rumors that she ... has gone missing recently?"

  "Is that why you've been watching our house?" Fiorita asked. She tried to keep her tone curious, not aggressive, but the man flinched.

  "I'm afraid so," he said, and one
end of his mouth quirked up in a self-conscious smile. "I've been staying with a friend ... well, let's say a 'fellow soldier', in your village."

  Fiorita shot another glance at the man, but could see no weapons on his slender frame. "Not like any soldier I've seen," she thought, remembering the burly port guards of her home city. The man was watching her carefully, waiting for a response; she nodded for him to continue.

  "I heard an unfortunate story about your sister. Bella, was it?" She nodded again. "I've been trying to figure out what I should do about it, actually." Flavio glanced away from her, looking intensely uncomfortable.

  "Why should it concern you?" Fiorita asked in slight astonishment. What possible connection could this man have to her stepsister?

  When he answered her, his voice was slow and serious. "They say in town that your father took your sister away and she hasn't been seen since. They say that your mother accuses him of insane ravings about a castle and a bear-man and a magician and a forced marriage." He coughed and looked apologetically at Fiorita. "They say that your father killed your sister in the forest."

  Fiorita felt tears prick her eyes. "That's what they say," she whispered hoarsely. She stared at her feet, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "So why do you care so much?" she asked, trying not to sound bitter.

  Flavio was silent for a long moment before Fiorita realized that he was no longer beside her. She stopped walking and blinked back the tears that had blinded her. When she looked back, he stood in the middle of the road, head hung down, horse waiting patiently beside him. "What if it's true?" he asked, not meeting her eyes. "What if there really is a castle and a bear-man?"

  Fiorita stared at him. The thought struck her that he knew something of her sister. All other considerations -- that he might be lying, that he might be a lunatic -- fled from her mind in the face of the hope that seized her. "Do you know where my sister is?" she asked, her voice tight. "Do you know who has her?"

  The words seemed to spill from his lips. "My brother, my half-brother is a prince. Three weeks ago, a fairy invaded the castle and turned him into ... a monster. I don't know how else to describe it." He hung his head again, unable to hold her gaze. "I fled the castle ... everyone did. I was Captain of the Guard and this ... this was the seal of my post." He held out his hand and Fiorita saw a beautifully wrought brooch, finely worked with a royal coat of arms in bright gold.

  "Your brother ..." her voice caught in her throat, "did he eat my sister?"

  "No!" Flavio shook his head violently, and then flushed red at his outburst. "I don't think so. I think he's just ... lonely with everyone gone."

  Her mind was racing. "This means that Cienzo was telling the truth," she said, working out the details. "He really did take Bella away to be a bear-man's bride." She looked up at Flavio suddenly. "You can tell everyone!" she realized. "You can support Mama before the council, and tell them where he took Bella, and they'll have to listen and help her!"

  He shook his head. "I can't," he said miserably. "They'd never believe me, but even if they did ... Don't you see?" he pleaded. "They'd organize a mob. People would get hurt. My brother ... would die." He shook his head again and looked on the verge of tears. "I don't want your sister to suffer," he confessed, "but I can't let my brother die, either. And it's my fault for leaving him in the first place."

  Fiorita studied Flavio for a long moment in silence. "What if it were Marchetta?" she thought, but she couldn't imagine what she would do in his place. She couldn't just leave Bella alone, though. She knew that much for certain.

  She walked over to Flavio, and gently pried the reins from his loose grasp. She tilted her head and looked up into his downcast eyes. Firmly, she said, "Take me to her."

  Chapter 13 - Ezio

  Ezio repositioned his body so he could watch Bella out of the corner of his eye while inspecting the roses. In the week since she arrived at the castle, the two had fallen into a routine. They would have breakfast together in the orchard, and then Ezio would spend the day tending the hedges while Bella explored the inside of the castle or strolled the grounds with a picnic basket and a book. In the evenings, Ezio would prompt her to tell him about her day, and when the sun set, they would head off to bed and sleep.

  Overall, he was satisfied with the routine. Bella seemed more comfortable with him each passing day, and she fell asleep easily at night, curled safely into herself on her side of the bed. Ezio was especially pleased at how docile and eager to please she was; every night he would tell her he loved her, and every night she dutifully responded in kind. "It's just a matter of time before she really means it," Ezio thought.

  As he watched the girl surreptitiously from the hedgerow, Ezio reflected that he preferred the days when Bella stayed indoors. Today she had spread a tattered tablecloth by the side of the road and was lounging on it while mouthing the words to a book she had brought from the castle library. Her reading spot was halfway between the castle and the hedge, well out of the shadows of each, but Ezio was acutely aware of how close the girl was to the gate. He felt a surge of frustration; he needed to examine the hedge thoroughly every day, but it was hard to concentrate when he had to keep checking on the girl. Both the roses and the girl were his remaining links to humanity and it wouldn't help to save the one and lose the other.

  He tried to turn his attention to the task at hand. Most of the bright blossoms looked healthy, but a worrying few were wilting slowly. Ezio knew nothing about gardening, but Guerrino had advised him that water would help, and possibly some judicious trimming of the thorny branches. Ezio held his breath with every cut and fervently hoped that he was doing the job right. The water was easier, if heavier work, and he spent hours lugging buckets from the well and wetting the ground around the enormous hedge. The work was discouraging; Ezio never saw any new buds growing to replace the dying ones.

  He cast a glance back at Bella as he moved down the hedgerow. He wouldn't be able to walk much farther before the castle would block her from his field of vision, and he was uncomfortable letting the girl out of his sight. Ezio wondered if he should ask her to walk with him, but he was trying to keep her as far from the cursed roses as possible. She had accepted his command to stay away from the hedge, and he didn't want to accidentally encourage difficult questions.

  As he watched the girl, he saw her demeanor suddenly change. She sat up stiffly on her picnic blanket, staring intently at the gate, her face a mask of astonishment. Instinctively, Ezio whipped his head back to the hedge and cupped his hand around a nearby rose. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bella turn to glance at him before returning her attention back to the gate.

  She made a quick motion with her hand, palm held up and out. Ezio's mind raced, weighing possibilities. Was she signaling a friend? Was it her father? Should he go over there? He saw the air shimmer beside him and turned to see the outline of Guerrino standing there. In full sunlight, the shape and outline of the invisible magician looked like a thick bubble of water, through which could be seen the castle yard on the other side.

  "Who is it?" Ezio asked anxiously under his breath.

  "A stranger at the gate." Guerrino's voice flowed quietly from the glassy outline. "A woman, I think, but I couldn't see more than that at this distance."

  "Is the gate closed?"

  "It is," Guerrino confirmed, "but I still think she could squeeze out. Should I bring out the wolf?" he asked tensely.

  Ezio closed his eyes and tried to shake his thoughts into coherence. He couldn't let Bella escape; he didn't have enough time to start over. He risked a quick glance back at her. The girl was hunched over her book, shoulders tensed and eyes glued unmoving to the page. "She's waiting for me to move around the side of the castle," he realized angrily. If he hadn't seen her initial reaction, if Guerrino hadn't laced the gate with spells, she might have gotten away without his noticing. "I should lock her in Guerrino's tower," he thought with frustration.

  "The wolf, Your Highness?" Guerrino prompte
d, breaking into his thoughts.

  Ezio hesitated. As much as he needed to get rid of this threat, at the same time he wished he could see what Bella would do. "I know so little about her," he realized doubtfully. "Can you make me invisible?" he whispered to Guerrino.

  The glassy outline was silent for a long moment, before the hesitant reply, "Yes."

  "Follow me, then." Ezio carefully stalked the perimeter of the hedge. As he disappeared behind the castle, he imagined he could feel Bella's eyes on him. "Hurry," he urged. The magician started to mumble softly, and Ezio felt a strange tingling sensation as his body slowly faded out around him. As the color washed from his body and disappeared completely, Guerrino's own form filled in slowly, like a painting being brought into existence under an artist's brush.

  "I can't hold the spell over both of us at once," Guerrino warned. "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly. This has all been for nothing if the girl gets away."

  Ezio peeked around the edge of the castle. Bella had stood up and was walking towards the gate with a show of nonchalance, stopping every few steps to pick a wildflower by the side of the road. Quietly, Ezio stepped forward on the spongy grass, grateful for the muffle of his hooves. He followed at a distance, mindful of the limits of the spell. Bella disappeared through the wide gap in the hedge. "She's almost at the gate," Ezio thought, feeling his heart pound anxiously, and he increased his pace. Within moments, he was at the edge of the hedge, peering around the corner.

  He had been expecting the girl's father, but the sight that caught the prince's eye surprised him. A young girl stood on the other side of the gate, weeping softly and embracing Bella through the slender silver bars. The girl was shorter than Bella, deeply plump, and had warm, dark skin. Bella embraced the girl fervently, and Ezio strained to hear what his bride was saying through her soft choked sobs.