Waterfall

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  Ten men were positioned along the walls, hidden under woven tarps, with bows and countless arrows. After twenty minutes of siege, they would be allowed to rise and take aim at the interlopers. But not before then. Marcello wanted to be certain that his reinforcements would arrive in time to capture any that tried to escape. “If you stay down, they’ll concentrate on breaching the corridor entry points,” Marcello said. He smiled. “And then the secondary barriers.”

  All afternoon, men had been busy erecting heavy, new interior doors within four of the corridors, where the castello’s unarmed would hole up. The other corridors would be locked up tight, but if they were breached, the interlopers would find them empty. Indeed, at the twenty-minute mark, the knights had permission to openly attack any Paratores they came upon.

  “They’ll think us cowards,” they grumbled, irritated that Marcello would not allow them to defend the castle upon the enemy’s entry.

  “They’ll be dead come morning, and you shall be alive,” Marcello snapped back. “Do as my brother has planned. Nothing different. It’s a brilliant plan. And an honor to him to see it done.”

  They clammed up then, unable to argue with the whole Dying Brother card.

  I did fear that Fortino was dying. That he wouldn’t make it until daybreak. He still labored to breathe, and his poor heart couldn’t sustain many more hours of such suffering. Marcello had had to drag me out of his room.

  In the hall, he had taken my face in his hands, his own features full of heavy misery. “I know. I know. But we can do nothing that the servants can’t do. Right?”

  I stared at him for a long moment, tears slipping down my face. “Right,” I said at last. “And your father?”

  He dropped his hands and turned away. “Dim and chatting on and on about my mother. He keeps trying to send servants to fetch her.”

  “It could be that he’s suffered another… spell,” I said. I moved toward him and after a moment’s hesitation, put a hand on his back. “Marcello, the stress of what is to come… there is a good chance that neither your brother nor father will survive the night. Perhaps you should remain here, with them.”

  He turned to me then. “Fortino wants us to do this, and were my father in his right mind, he would suffer no halt to the plan. I honor them best by seeing it through and looking to the castello’s future, Siena’s future.” His eyes sought mine. “And ours.”

  I shook my head and broke away from his light hold on my hips. “I’ve been thinking about that, Marcello. You belong here, defending what you love.”

  He gave me a gentle smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I belong where I can defend all that I love. I will be here at the beginning, engage in a skirmish or two, then retreat, barricading myself into the first corridor across the way. An empty corridor, of course. Once I see the flags of the Sienese reinforcements, I’ll come and find you.”

  My eyes widened with alarm. “Except the Paratore men will be circling the castle, making certain no one escapes.”

  He cocked his head. “And we shall fight our way through.”

  “You and Luca,” I said.

  He nodded. “You didn’t think we’d expect you to rescue your sister on your own, did you?”

  “I didn’t know what to think.” I rubbed my temple. “This plan, Marcello…it could go wrong in a hundred different ways.”

  “Or perfectly right.” He took my hand in his now, bringing me back to the present. “Are you ready, my sweet warrior?” He slowly kissed my knuckles, his eyes solely on me. I knew the entire castello watched us, but I could look nowhere but at him. We stood at the first corridor entrance, where I was to climb and pretend to murder the two front guards.

  “Do not die this night, m’lord.”

  He gave me a pained smile. “So on the morrow or the next is all right, just not this night?”

  “No,” I said, laying my other hand on his chest and willing him to promise me what he could not. “Ever.”

  His smile faded. “Only if you promise to do the same.” He kissed my knuckles once more. “Luca and I will catch up with you before you reach Castello Paratore. I promise you that. Gabriella, the battle ahead will be fierce. You must fight. Fight with everything in you, beloved.”

  Taking a deep breath, I ripped my hand from his, turned and entered the hallway, then the turret, my mind screaming at me to stop, to turn around, to take cover alongside Fortino, or better yet, in a corridor with the rest of the weak and completely freaked out. I didn’t feel strong. I felt coldly afraid, even though I hurried up the stairs as if I hungered for nothing but the battle ahead. At the tiny door at the top, I stopped, my hand on the latch.

  “Fortes fortuna adiuvat,” Marcello had said to his men. Fortune favors the brave, the bold.

  That was all well and good. But it was remembering my dad talking to me about bravery in life that pushed me onward. We’d been on a rare father-daughter walk, and I had shared my fears about something. He’d said, “I read once that courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision that something is more important than that fear.”

  I pushed through, walking hunched over, as if trying to avoid being seen by those inside the castle but close to the edge, so that those who watched me from the outside could clearly see my progress. I raced to catch up with the guard, Giovanni, who was walking away from me, as was our plan. “Coming on your left,” I whispered to him, raising my short broadsword high in the air where it could catch the gleam of torchlight. “Three, two, one,” I counted lowly, still mirroring his steps. He pretended to not hear a word from me. I turned the sword and plunged it between his shoulders, where it caught a hidden wooden plate and slid downward. We went down between the edges of the wall-where no one could see us-and I rolled off of him. “Nicely done,” I said. “How does it suit you, being dead?”

  “Feels mostly the same,” he said in a whisper, grinning at me as he rolled over.

  “Well, prepare for a second death,” I said, rising and making a great show of stabbing him once more. This time, I knew only I would be visible from the Paratores’ vantage point, so I plunged downward-waited for Giovanni to give it a quick wash of cow’s blood-then wrenched my sword up as if it had been stuck in a body. I raced forward, shoving the bloody sword into the sheath at my back.

  “Go with God, m’lady,” I heard the knight whisper behind me.

  And with you, I thought, surprising myself. All the God talk was rubbing off on me. I hoped the Big Guy was listening.

  At the end of the wall, I rose and looked into the center of the enclosed courtyard where Marcello stood, alongside Luca, watching me. I stared at him overly long, wondering if it might be the last time I would see him alive. But then he pointed at the other guard, approaching me from the other side, reminding me of my task.

  I crouched down and moved into position. The other guard, Pietro, feigned surprise when he saw me. He moved his hand to his sword as if to draw it. I pulled the dagger from my front sheath and pulled back, my eyes on the center of his sternum.

  “Aim true, m’lady,” he whispered a second late, since the dagger already flew across the space between us.

  His timing was as perfect as my aim. As the blade plunged into the leather and padding that made him appear as portly as Giovanni, he wavered, then reached for it, pretending to try to pluck it out. Just as I was silently urging him not to milk it, he crumpled with an anguished groan to the ground.

  I hurriedly tied off my rope and rappelled down the inside of the castello wall, shaking in fear when I heard the massive numbers of horses rumbling toward the gates.

  “Go, Gabriella,” Marcello mouthed.

  I turned to the massive, rusted metal beam and unlocked it, then, pushing with everything in me, slid it back in its track.

  They didn’t wait for me to open it all the way. The giant door barely missed me as I leaped aside. They burst through with a roar, fifty men on foot, with twenty on horses behind them.

  Knights, dress
ed as servants, ran for the corridors that had two barricades. Our twenty minutes were now counting down. “Knights to arms!” one cried. “The castle is breached!” Ten knights joined Marcello and Luca. Women ran screaming to the corridors farther back, just as they had practiced. The first sounds of iron meeting iron sounded in the yard.

  Lord Paratore came through the gates on his horse and pulled up on the reins when he reached my side. “Off with you, then,” he said, gesturing with his chin over his shoulder. “You have done well. Go and claim your prize.”

  I nodded and smiled. I turned and scurried out, straight through the third line of men who stood there, swords drawn, ready to enter at their master’s call, to the Paratore knight on his horse. “I need a mount,” I said to him.

  “You can walk,” he sneered.

  I stared hard at him. “I need a mount. I’ve done all that your lord asked me,” I spit out. “The castle is yours. Now give me what should be mine. Lord Paratore promised a horse.”

  He looked down at me, plainly irritated that I was even talking to him. But I stubbornly refused to look away. After a moment, he grimaced and glanced behind him. “Bring the wench a gelding.”

  As soon as the horse was within reach, I took the reins, put my foot in the stirrup, and swung across the saddle, ignoring their lecherous glances at my legs. I was already turning, kicking the horse’s flanks, leaning down, racing across the path that was clearly visible in the moonlight.

  I’m coming, Lia. I’m coming.

  From the corner of my eye, I’d seen a patrol of Paratore men, riding around the edge of the castello, just as I thought they would-just as Marcello believed they would too.

  Dear God, please bring Marcello to help me! Keep him safe! Keep us all safe!

  I bent lower and raced down the path, far faster than was wise. But adrenaline and hope combined to make me feel strong, as if I could see in the dark. Again and again, I urged my horse to leap stones and logs, making me believe it was true.

  That was right before I turned the corner and a low-lying branch caught me across my chest.

  Pride goeth before the fall, and all that. Yeah, yeah, I knew. I was foolish.

  But it didn’t register with me, of course, until I lay on my back, staring up through the trees at the bits and pieces of the moon, partially covered by leaves, fighting for breath.

  This is what it feels like to be Fortino.

  Mentally I cataloged my body, trying each limb as I waited for my breath to return. I was looking at my fingers, flexing before my face, trying not to panic, when I felt the rumble of horse hooves on the path.

  Horses, coming my way.

  I surged over to my right, rolling once, twice, until I was under a low-hanging bush as two men on horseback raced past me. They pulled up ahead and turned back. I groaned inwardly, just taking my third breath. They’d seen me. I forced myself to rise and draw my sword, still willing my breathing to return to normal. Again, I thought of Fortino and found myself whispering a prayer to God that he might be breathing still.

  The men came into view down the path, and I pressed back among the trees.

  “Gabriella?” the first said, and I frowned.

  I edged out. “Marcello?”

  He rode closer then. “Are you running to Castello Paratore?”

  “Do not ask,” I said, sheathing my sword again. He surged forward, reaching for my arm and using the momentum to swing me up behind him. I looked over my shoulder at Luca and grinned. I wrapped my arms around Marcello, so glad he was alive, so glad I wasn’t alone.

  How had they managed to escape and get to me so quickly? Were the Sienese already surrounding Castello Forelli, capturing the Paratore forces? I hoped so; but I was most glad they were there, with me. Ready to help me find my sister.

  Marcello tensed and looked back at Luca. Luca stayed deadly still and then nodded once. I heard it then too.

  More riders were coming. And they weren’t ours.

  We rode hard, then suddenly veered off on a narrow path I was fairly certain didn’t lead to Castello Paratore. We came out on a sandbar, farther up the creek than the normal crossing, and waited in the thick brush that lined the banks. Six knights on horses crossed a ways down, their mounts sending water flying into the air-a thousand droplets catching the moonlight. It was almost beautiful, terrifying and gorgeous at the same time. And surreal. Because they were obviously hunting, chasing us.

  Luca looked over at Marcello. “No one saw us escape. I’m certain of it.”

  Marcello tensed. I could feel his torso contract, his breathing hesitate. “Then they’re after Gabriella.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes,” he said simply. “Paratore has sent them to fetch you because you double-crossed him.” Memories of Paratore and Vannucci’s threats rang in my mind.

  “We cannot let them reach the castle,” Luca said lowly. “If they do, they shall warn the guards, and Gabriella shall never free her sister, only find herself captured.”

  Marcello twisted in his saddle so fast, lifting me to the ground, I didn’t have time to react. Thick creek pebbles met my feet, and I stumbled a bit backward, against a scrub oak. “Hide, Gabriella. We’ll be back for you as fast as we can.”

  Without waiting for my response, he pressed his mount into action, and he and Luca were off.

  I bit back my indignation, the desire to call out his name, insist he return for me. Luca was right, of course. Our only hope was that they could overtake the men, surprise them and somehow kill or capture all six. And they couldn’t do that with the weight of two people on one mount.

  Two against six. Fortes fortune adiuvat. They’re probably reveling in those odds, I thought, pacing back and forth. Idiots. Brave, wonderful, idiots.

  They considered me more a liability than an ally, which was probably right. But they didn’t know that, for sure. They didn’t know it.

  I picked up my skirts, pulled off my slippers and moved across the creek bed, wincing as the rocks bit into my feet. On the other side, I dried my feet with my skirt and pulled on the slippers again, then set off running, moving to the main path, knowing it was upon that one that my men would engage their enemies. I settled into a steady jog, not wanting to become too winded. But that was hard with the sword on my back. Carrying an extra thirty-pound sword was like weighing thirty more pounds yourself. I felt like I’d been sitting around all summer, watching TV, eating Twinkies. And I was dying now that I had decided to go out for cross-country.

  Not that I’d ever gone out for cross-country. I liked to hike. Not run for miles until I was in pain. But still I pressed on. Perhaps I could sneak in, take one man down, help Marcello and Luca before they even knew I was there. I had to do something. Hide, he had said. Hide! This was not a night for hiding. It was a night to scream, “Bring it on!” to the entire valley and then prepare for the onslaught.

  Yeah, a part of me really wanted to hide. But I ignored it.

  I caught my breath as I eased down a hill and when I rounded the corner, I could hear men calling out and swords clashing. I doubled my pace, then pulled up short, studying the battlefield. Three men were on the ground already, obviously dead, one with his head at a grotesque angle. Two were advancing upon Marcello. Luca and the third knight moved toward me, their swords clanging again and again. Slowly, I drew my dagger out.

  They still hadn’t seen me. Luca was tiring; I could see it in the speed of his sword as it rose to meet the enemy’s. The man’s sword sliced through the air three times in quick succession, and Luca spun away from the last a second too late. The sword tip lanced his upper arm, and he cried out. The man did not break from his attack, whirling, preparing to bring the full weight of his sword into Lucas neck or torso.

  I didn’t think. I bent and lunged, dagger in hand, exactly at the moment his belly was most exposed.

  He crumpled to his side, clutching the dagger and gasping.

  Luca stepped forward and ended his misery, eyed me a moment, then turned tow
ard Marcello.

  I ran behind him, drawing my sword from my back sheath. We saw Marcello, then, wrestling on the ground, barely holding off a knight’s dagger, an inch from his throat as another knight hovered, waiting to strike. The second turned when he heard our approach. Luca climbed a small boulder and leaped toward him, a bloodcurdling cry bursting from his throat.

  I cried out too, as the dagger touched Marcello’s skin and blood glimmered in the moonlight. I swung my broadsword in an arc, missing cutting off the man’s head, but managing to nick his neck.

  He screamed and rolled off of Marcello, clutching his neck in shock, but it was clearly no use. Blood spurted everywhere. He’d be dead in moments.

  Dimly, I realized that Luca was nearing us, no sounds of pursuit behind him.

  Marcello rose, clutching his side. “Gabriella,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and studying my face as if he was trying to read my thoughts in the moonlight. “Are you all right?”

  But I could only stare at the other man, now choking on his own blood. Had I done that? Really? Me? My head swirled in a sickening mix of horror and fury.

  “Turn away, Gabriella,” Marcello said, moving between me and my victim when I did not obey. He pressed my head to his chest as we heard the man emit a horrible gurgling sound and fall, face-first, to the ground.

  Luca stepped up beside us and laid a hand on my back. “The She-Wolf of Siena,” he said proudly. “Saved my neck too.”