Waterfall

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “Yes,” I said, more forlornly than I intended. But I was feeling free, unbound. Maybe it was the medicine. “You’ll need to help me remember. Help me memorize Marcello, the kind of man he is. Because I want to find someone like him in our time.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I choked, unable to say another word. Maybe the medicine was whacking me out. It was like I had no control over my emotions.

  She took my hand and squeezed it. “I’ll help you, Gabi. It’ll be okay. You’re only seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you.” She reached out to stroke my face and tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’ll see. It’ll be okay.” She rose and pulled my gown from the trunk, shaking it out.

  But all I could think of was her hand on my face and how it reminded me of Marcello’s touch.

  And how I longed for him to touch me again.

  The servants came and prepared us like brides on our wedding day, weaving pearls and flowers into our hair. They’d rebound my wound in order to slide the underdress over my shoulders and hips, then the gown on top of it. Blessedly, the pain medicine continued to work. I could wiggle my toes, which kept the panic over paralysis at bay, and I was no longer numb. I wondered if that tonic was a fourteenthcentury version of morphine. Whatever it was, I was just glad it was available. Thank You, thank You, God, that the doctor came.

  Was that the second real prayer I’d ever whispered?

  Wouldn’t that be an interestingpayout, I thought. I fly through time and come back with some sort of religion.

  It seemed flimsy, a lame second prize to staying with Marcello and living happily ever after, but it was all I had at the moment, and it was something.

  Lia was looking at me strangely when the maids stepped away.

  “What?”

  “Man, Gabi, you are gorgeous.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Not when there’s a chick out there,” she said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder, “barely able to keep from clawing your eyes out.”

  “Never mind about her,” I said, laughing under my breath. “Tell me about Lord Foraboschi.” She’d said something earlier that had been niggling at me, and I needed to know what was at the heart of it.

  She shifted and played with the toe of her tapestry slipper. For the first time that day, I noticed how amazing she looked too. Cinderella would’ve killed to look like my sister in that moment. “Lia-“

  “I couldn’t help it.” She lifted her big, blue eyes and stared at me.

  “What? What’d you do?”

  “He was taunting me. Saying that I probably hit the knights in Castello Paratore by accident-that I was aiming in another direction.”

  “And?”

  “I-I started to cry. It was either that or draw my arrow and split his head open, I swear. And then Luca figured out what had upset me and started to get all angry and belted Lord Foraboschi-“

  “Oh no,” I said with a heavy sigh. “And what did Lord Foraboschi do?”

  She rose and paced back and forth. “I think he’s a little afraid of Luca. He pretended to go after him, but only when he was really sure that others would stop him.” She shook her head. “I don’t like the way he looks at me. It’s like he knows. Or he’s trying to figure me out, figure out how he can bring me down.”

  “Don’t let him get to you,” I said.

  She hesitated.

  “What?” I said.

  She licked her lips. “I saw him, earlier. He was whispering in Lord Rossi’s ear. He ate lunch beside Romana. He’s more than friends with them. He’s close to them.”

  I considered that. “Well, it makes sense. He was here with Romana when I first arrived, almost like a guardian or something. Look, until we get out of here, we’re going to run into many who feel loyal to the Rossis.” I shrugged. “It’s only natural, really. They want to see this relationship with Castello Forelli secured, once and for all. Some will want to see Romana to her own, promised happy ending. If I’m in the way, I’m going to be seen as the enemy. And you, as my sister, are one too.”

  “We should’ve just gone when-“

  “We’re here. Let’s see it through. Maybe with this pain medi cine…maybe there will be an opportunity to escape tonight. With all the comings and goings of the feast, you know.”

  Her eyes filled with hope. And then fear for me.

  “Let’s just see,” I said, waving down her excitement. “Let’s get through the games and see. But Lia, you can’t win today.” I looked at her, hard. “Let Lord Foraboschi win. It’s not worth it, inviting his wrath.”

  She frowned, struggling with that idea. She was such a weird combination of free-spirited artist and fierce competitor. But only when it came to archery. She’d never let me beat her in archery, even back when we were little and I could really challenge her. Maybe it was the precision thing, like placing just the right stroke with a brush loaded with oil paint. She liked to do that right on the first try too.

  “He really is a pompous, egotistical jerk.”

  “I agree. There are nicer guys on the planet, but is it worth making this deal more complicated? Don’t you think it’s already complicated enough, without you taking him on?”

  She hesitated.

  “Well, think it over,” I said, pretty much giving up at that point. “Why risk it? This isn’t a historic event anyway, right?”

  “Right,” she said. But her tone said she still wasn’t in agreement with me about throwing the match.

  A knock sounded at our door, and then a male servant peeked in. “M’lady,” he said. “We’re here to escort you to the games.”

  “Come in,” I said, waving him forward. Another came with him.

  “Can you walk? Or shall we carry you to your carriage?”

  “Let me try and rise,” I said, taking hold of each of their arms. But when I came to my feet, my knees crumpled beneath me and I felt a wave of nausea. From the pain? Or was it the medicine?

  Luckily, the men had a firm grip on me and carried me on my bed to the hallway, with Lia right behind us. “You okay?” she whispered to me.

  “I think so,” I said. I lifted my hand to my head. A wave of dizziness was there, then gone.

  The little doctor appeared. Why hadn’t I noticed him before? “M’lady, are you certain this will not overly tax you?”

  I was sitting there, suspended in the air on a bed. It was all I could do not to laugh. “I think not,” I managed to say.

  “Well then, here is another dose of pain medicine,” he said, handing me the bottle.

  I gladly took a swig, ignoring the unpleasant taste of grass and fertilizer sailing down my throat. If it would continue to keep that horrendous pain at bay, I was game. I settled back down to a pile of pillows and waved the servants onward, indeed feeling a bit like Cleopatra, lounging upon her settee. All I needed was for them to cover the wood in gold leaf and for a couple of the guys to whip out giant palm branches and fan me.

  We went out to the courtyard, and I was a bit shocked at the hundreds of people that lined the edge, all sitting in chairs and beneath tented roofs, shielding themselves from the sun. Marcello smiled and strode over to us, Luca and Fortino at his side, as the servants set me on a platform.

  The crowd hushed as Marcello took my hand, bowed and kissed it, then Fortino did the same, still holding it as he turned back toward the courtyard. I caught sight of Lord Forelli, looking befuddled and a little irritated, but with far more color than when I had last seen him. Beside him sat Lord Rossi and Romana. I dared not look to see where Marcello had moved. They all watched my every move.

  Fortino turned toward Lia and urged her to his other side, so he could hold both our hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” called Fortino. “I present at last, the two warriors that turned the tide for Siena, the Ladies Betarrini.”

  I had expected a cheer, applause, shouting. But what happened next was something I’d never forget.

  Every man, woman, and c
hild stood, and as one they bowed or curtsied, as if we were royalty before them. It was deathly quiet, and in the hush, a wave of honor swept over me. I was overwhelmed. I glanced at Lia, who looked like she was feeling the same, lifting a hand to her lips.

  Slowly, everyone stood again, and then I saw that they all had flowers in their hands. They paraded past us then, setting their roses and day lilies and daisies at our feet, bowing and nodding with smiles of appreciation. In those precious minutes, I was swept up into the glory of it, all the more glad that we had been there that night, right when Marcello and Luca and the rest needed us most. Maybe we had given them a few more years of health and prosperity, something to lean on in the hard years to come.

  When they had finished, the crowd disappeared, back to their seats, but the Nine stood in the center. “Ladies Betarrini,” said Lord Rossi. “Siena is forever in your debt. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, ask it of us and it shall be yours.”

  “Thank you, Lord Rossi,” I said. “We did only what your own daughters would have done, had they been in our places. And we would do it again, to serve Siena.”

  He smiled and raised a goblet in the air. “Well said, m’lady. With that, I declare these games officially begun.” And then he rammed the goblet down, and it shattered into a thousand pieces across the cobblestones.

  The crowd cheered, and the Nine returned to their seats as the jousting line was erected.

  We watched through twelve grueling rounds of jousting, wincing whenever the lance struck a man. Several somersaulted over the backs of their horses, sending the crowd into a riot of laughter and shouts. One jouster’s lance broke, but his opponent remained seated. I could barely watch it, knowing that every strike, regardless of the armor, would have to mean broken ribs and, potentially, internal injuries. How many of these men would languish, even die in the coming days?

  But then Marcello entered the courtyard on his steed, his golden colors flying. He rode over to Lady Rossi, and she rose and prettily handed him her lace handkerchief, which he took and sniffed in ecstasy, as if inhaling her perfume-much to the delight of the crowd.

  Marcello, to his credit, never looked my way, never gave the crowd any cause to wonder if there was competition for his heart. He appeared to ride for her alone. But as he lowered his helmet, I saw his eyes slide over to me for but a half second. I smiled. Too late? Too late to give him encouragement? To ride his best? To know that I understood his predicament? His place?

  His eyes were set dead ahead then, studying no one else but his opponent.

  “Tell me when it is over,” I whispered to Lia, feeling another wave of nausea. The flag came down, the riders urged their horses into a gallop, and I closed my eyes.

  The horses’ hooves clattered over the cobblestones through the layer of dirt and hay that had been hauled in. I visualized their churning legs, necks outstretched, the clash to come any second-

  And then I heard it. Impact. The crowd cheered. I peeked up and took half a breath when I saw Marcello still on his horse. He was looking to Romana, and I looked there too. But she was staring at me, eyes wide and then narrowing in suspicion. Would I ever manage to cover my feelings? Clearly, I was about as subtle as a billboard. I looked over to Lia.

  “A cup of water,” I croaked, lifting a hand to my head as another bout of dizziness passed through me.

  She rose and then hesitated.

  I dragged my eyes to look where she did.

  Marcello had paused before me, still astride his horse, helmet off, hair blowing about in the breeze. “M’lady, are you ailing?” he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

  “Not now that I know you are victor, m’lord,” I said, so quietly that only he would hear.

  But then I heard the whispering begin, the medieval version of telephone. I knew my words would be passed around the circle of spectators within moments.

  Blessedly, the archery round was announced.

  “Lift your handkerchief if you are in need of an escape,” Marcello said, repeating our earlier agreement, then trotted off to the end of the courtyard.

  Lia was there then with my water, and I drank from the pottery goblet, glad to have something to do. I felt the heavy gaze of the crowd, assessing, wondering. Marcello had paid homage to his brideto-be, but in the end, as victor, it was me he had gone to. I cursed my sick stomach. If only I’d kept calm, had not shifted, I might not have caught his eye….

  “Lia, fetch me a bit of bread, would you?” I whispered.

  “I’ll send some back,” she whispered, looking at me meaningfully. “I’m on deck.”

  I followed her glance to the ring, where ten targets were set up. When Lia rose, the crowd went berserk, cheering, beside themselves to see her in action. Lord Foraboschi rose from Romana’s side, bent, whispered something in her ear, then left her. In the gap he left, I spotted the doctor, but when I caught his eye, he moved away, as if not wishing to be seen. I frowned, puzzling over that.

  Such an odd little man.

  “Do you fear for your sister?” Luca said, sitting beside me. He handed me a plate of bread, cheese, and grapes. “She sent you this.”

  “You are her servant now?” I asked wryly.

  “In every way.” He sighed. “The lady has captured my heart. Now she’ll capture everyone else’s, and I’ll have no hope to compete for her. Here, take my hand,” he said, reaching for my right. “Mayhap it shall make her terribly jealous.”

  I smiled. He was so melodramatic. And totally charming. I couldn’t believe Lia hadn’t fallen for him, too. She usually liked the guys who made her laugh.

  It was just as well, I thought with a sigh. Then we’d both be torn. I watched as Marcello took his seat beside Romana again, covering her hand with his. I shoved a piece of bread into my mouth, forcing myself to chew and swallow. The medicine was probably hard on my tummy. If I had taken it in modern times, it’d probably come with the take-it-with-food warning.

  The targets were set out, and when Lia reached for an arrow in the quiver on her back, the crowd again went nuts. I smiled as they drew their arrows, pulled, and let them fly at the master’s count. All struck within the first two rings of their targets, Lia’s dead center. The crowd applauded, and the archers counted out ten more paces, and again let arrows fly. All again were within the first two rings of the center.

  I saw Lord Foraboschi lean over and say something to Lia. She paused, and I felt Luca’s hand tighten over mine. Then Lord Foraboschi turned and smirked in our direction. The skin beneath one eye was slightly purple where Luca had decked him.

  “Luca, remain where you are,” I cautioned, holding on to him. “She’ll see this to its best conclusion.”

  He said nothing, so uncharacteristic of him that I fretted over it. I hoped Lord Foraboschi wouldn’t dare to say anything more to Lia. She’d never let him win if he continued to goad her.

  The archers walked ten more paces, let arrows fly, and three of them were eliminated, trudging out of the courtyard in defeat.

  With seven left, pigeons were released, all painted in colors that matched the archer’s arrow tips. They had to find their targets and bring them down. Lia let one arrow fly, and it missed the bird, but she was already taking aim again and, with the second arrow, brought the creature down just before it escaped over the wall.

  The crowd exploded in shouts and laughter and excitement again. Only four had managed to come this far. I wondered for a moment if the emotions of killing a bird would slow her down, but with one look at her face, I knew we were sunk. She wasn’t going to let Lord Foraboschi win.

  I groaned.

  “What is it?” Luca asked, leaning toward me. “She’s doing as well as we knew she would.”

  “Nothing. Never mind,” I said, shaking my head. I shoved another bite of bread into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed, feeling a pang in my gut and another wave of nausea. What would happen if she was the victor? Would it make Lord Foraboschi more of a lethal threat to us? It was all so dang
complicated. His relationship with the Rossis, their relationship with the Forellis…

  The games master was calling out the next challenge. Men on the allures above us were carrying hay bales bound to a leather shield. They would appear in random places. The first archer to stick five of them would be declared the victor.

  “No,” Luca grumbled. “Of all the thoughtless, crass decisions…”

  I bit my lip. It was too much like Castello Paratore. Too much like that night. Would Lia again dissolve into tears? The others drew arrows across their bows. Two looked at Lia with concern, as if guessing at what might have given her pause. The games master shouted his count, and arrows began flying. Lord Foraboschi struck one, turned toward Lia and smirked. She tilted her chin in defiance before he turned and fired again, hitting the second. I gripped Lucas hand, hard again.

  The crowd hushed, watching the drama play out before them like a silent movie. Lia was staring after Lord Foraboschi, who was aiming at a third moving target, narrowly missing it. Then as if snapping out of her stupor, she suddenly sprang into action, on the move, drawing once, twice, thrice, hitting three targets in quick succession.

  Men shouted. Women shrieked. But I knew Lia heard nothing, acting as she had at the castle that fateful night-on instinct. Lord Foraboschi frowned and held a hand out to her, as if complaining about her method, but Lia took her fourth and fifth targets down before he had a chance to bring his hand back to his own bow.

  Children ran out and surrounded her, arms up, dancing. The crowd followed, lifting her to their shoulders. Luca laughed and rose, clapping.

  When she was turned toward me, her concentrated expression disappeared and an apologetic look replaced it, as if to say, Sorry! Couldn’t help it!

  I sighed and smiled.

  After all, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  The games went on for another couple of hours, but Evangelias clear and dramatic victory was really the Big Deal. As things wrapped up with a pretty speech from Fortino, again honoring me and my sister, I tried to beg off, eager to return to my room to try and sleep. Perhaps with sleep this gut ache will go away…