“But she seemed so grateful for the food!”
“I bring it to her as a gesture of respect. She loves to get things for free.”
“And do you think she’s as lonely as she says? I felt bad leaving her.”
“My uncle moved back to San Gimignano ten years ago, when Zia Elena’s husband died. He lives on the other side of town. We would have seen him today but he was in Florence on business. He brings her to see her grandchildren and great-grand children several times a week. She also has a pack of old friends that she gabs with everyday. She’s fine.”
Three hours of riding brought them to the edge of the forest just as the sun was nearing the horizon.
“Quickly now,” Lauro said.
They urged their horses to a trot. Over the sound of the hooves, Cassandra thought she heard voices. Rounding a bend, they saw a band of men in tattered clothing coming slowly toward them.
“Be calm and follow my lead,” whispered Lauro. “Do not look them in the eye. Here.” He handed her a kerchief. “Tie this around your nose and mouth.”
She did as she was told, fear coursing through her veins. Could Lauro defend them, two against five? She pulled her knife out of its sheath and clutched it under the reins.
“Can we outrun them?” she asked. “We’re on horseback, they’re on foot.”
“Not with these nags. Besides, they’d easily slash the horses’ legs. Hush now.”
Soon the bandits were within a few meters. Cassandra stared at her horse’s mane but out of the corner of her eye saw Lauro nod to them. The five men surrounded them. Two of them grabbed the bridles of Lauro’s and Cassandra’s horses. The animals jerked to a halt.
“What do you want?” Lauro said in a stern voice. “We have nothing.”
“You have these animals,” one of them said.
“I need them for my farm.”
“Get down!” the man shouted.
Cassandra’a eyes met his before she remembered she shouldn’t look. His face was a smear of filth.
“We will not,” replied Lauro.
“Now! Or we’ll take that woman with those fine eyes and do whatever we want with her,” he laughed. “That’s your choice, the woman or the horses.”
“You’ll have neither,” Lauro growled.
He drew the sword from its sheath. It glinted in a ray of orange sun coming through the trees.
“You’re no peasant,” said the man, taking his hand off Lauro’s horse and stepping back.
“That’s right. However, I’m not stupid enough to carry riches along this road. Now move aside or I will have your heart on my sword!” He brandished the weapon with a great sweeping motion, side to side.
The man holding Cassandra’s horse let go and moved off.
“We can take them,” another thief said.
Lauro twisted around in his saddle so fast he was a blur. The blade of the sword hit the man’s shoulder with a terrible crack. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground bleeding. Cassandra’s throat closed—a scream choked into silence.
“Who else wants to feel my blade?” Lauro yelled. He swished it near the faces of the men still standing and they leapt back.
“Come on!” the leader yelled. He ran off up the road while the others followed, leaving their friend bleeding in the dust.
“Come!” said Lauro, snapping his reins.
His horse leapt forward and Cassandra’s followed suit, but something made her look back. The stricken man lay on the ground, blood soaking his tattered clothes.
“Shouldn’t we help him?”
Lauro’s eyes opened wide. “Are you crazy?”
How could she explain that, in her world, violence was nearly unheard of? The sight, even the thought of it made her sick.
“Will he die?”
“Good riddance.”
“Lauro, I would’t feel right letting another human being perish like that.”
“I thought you weren’t religious….”
“I’m not particularly, but it seems wrong.” He couldn’t understand her feelings in this situation, that was clear, but she was still horrified at his lack of humanity.
“It was us or them, Cassandra. And you know what they planned to do with you.”
She suddenly turned her horse around and loped back to the stricken thief. He wasn’t moving. She stopped and leapt down, approaching him gingerly. His eyes stared glassily. Blood had formed a pool around his head. Her breath caught in her lungs. Slowly, she knelt and picked up his wrist. He smelled horrible. She felt for a pulse, but there was none.
“There is nothing we can do.” Lauro’s voice came from behind her.
The wound was a huge gash near the poor man’s neck. Lauro obviously had hit an artery. Cassandra began to shake. Behind her, Lauro’s boots thudded on the road. His arm caressed her shoulders. She stood. He helped her back on her horse, and they rode away as warm tears spilled down her cheeks.
They rode silently and quickly through the woods until they were out into open land. Once within the borders of Lauro’s property, he hurried them to the stables, dismounted, and handed their horses off to a boy there. It was past sunset, and though the air was still warm, Cassandra shivered uncontrollably. Lauro drew close to her and touched her arm.
“Are you ill?”
“No. Just terribly frightened.”
He put his arms around her. “Poverina…poor thing.”
She put her head on his shoulder and let herself be embraced.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have let you come.”
“It was my decision.”
His lips brushed her cheek. She looked up at him, and their mouths met for the briefest moment.
“Come, let’s get you inside.”
He took her into the house and ordered Caterina to help her change. She removed the servants’ clothing she wore while Caterina arranged for a tub to be brought to her room. Several buckets full of heated water eventually provided enough for a bath. Cassandra emerged afterward smelling good and physically feeling better, but inwardly, still shaken. She put on her nightgown and Teresa’s long, velvet robe and crawled into bed, longing for a book to read, something to provide an escape from replaying the incident over and over, and seeing the dead man’s face every time she closed her eyes. It was early, but she managed to doze until Jake came in and sat with her while she told him what had happened. He had brought her food, and they ate together. She apologized for their earlier argument, but he didn’t chastise her. He said little about his day, only that he had been at the studio. They discussed the risks of continuing to stay, but agreed they had to carry through with their plan to remain until July second. Surely Giuliana’s portrait would be completed by then.
After they said goodnight, Cassandra lay back down and stared out the window at the emerging stars. If only Lauro would come to her. Maybe another kiss would help erase the turmoil in her gut. But somehow her eyes closed, somehow her mind cleared, and somehow, she slept.
Chapter Ten
Cassandra was at breakfast with Lauro and Jake when the front door slammed, reverberating throughout the villa.
A voice sounded from several rooms away. “Sampieri! Where are you?” Footsteps echoed on the brick floors.
“Francesco? What in the hell…?”
The young artist burst into the dining room, his hair flowing behind him, his eyes glowing with intensity. He flung his satin cloak behind his shoulder and sank to one knee before Cassandra, grabbing her hand. She nearly jumped out of her chair.
“Contessa, I vow to catch those scoundrels who attacked you and skewer each one on my sword like sausages!”
She glanced at Lauro, then back at Francesco. “How did you know?”
“Word travels quickly, servant to servant, in this town. As soon as I heard, I swore to avenge you. And you!” He leapt to his feet pointing at Lauro. “Why did you not kill them all?”
&n
bsp; Lauro rose. His eyes narrowed and his face flushed red, but his voice remained calm. “I assure you I defended the Contessa and myself with due courage.”
“Yes, Francesco, of course he did. He did everything he could do,” Cassandra said.
“It’s not enough. The thieves should be hunted down and slaughtered.”
He reeked of alcohol though it was early. Bells were just ringing for Terce, the mid-morning prayers.
“They are long gone by now. There will be no catching them. Besides,” Lauro said, raising his voice, “I tell you, I dealt with them without mercy.”
Francesco pounded his fist on the table. “How could you put her in such danger?”
“Are you challenging me?”
“Yes. To a duel.”
“On what grounds?”
“That you put a lady in harm’s way.”
Jake’s face reflected Cassandra’s alarm. He rose.
“Gentlemen, as Cassandra’s brother, I should be most concerned. And yet, I am satisfied Maestro Sampieri handled the situation bravely and with sufficient force.”
“Francesco,” Cassandra added, her head swiveling from one man to the other, “for goodness sake, calm down. Yes, it was a terrible ordeal, but it is over now. It was my idea to go with Lauro. I have only myself to blame.”
“As a lady, you cannot know what’s best for you. It is up to us men to decide.”
“What?” She stood. “And what about the day you had me wandering around in the rain. Was that your idea of protecting me?”
“What do you mean, wandering around in the rain?” Lauro cried. “What were you up to, Marino?”
“Nothing….” his bravura seemed to deflate.
“Contessa?” Lauro turned to her.
The feelings she’d pushed away now brimmed into anger at how Francesco had dismissed her that day.
“I’m sorry. I have to admit to you I let him sketch me.”
Lauro’s brow furrowed. “Sketch you?”
Her face grew hot.
“Oh, I see. I know what this man is after,” Lauro said, squaring off to Francesco. “Very well, Marino, if a duel is what you want, a duel you shall have. I will retrieve my weapon and meet you in front of the house.”
“No!” Cassandra screamed. Could this be the moment Francesco Marino would die? Or had they changed history entirely, and Lauro would be the one to perish? “Stop this now!”
“It is too late, Contessa,” Lauro said before he stormed away. “Once a duel has been proposed and accepted, it must be carried out.”
Francesco swung out the opposite door with a flourish of his cape.
“Oh my God,” she said to Jake. “What are we going to do?”
“Come on.”
They ran to the front of the house where Francesco was swishing his sword through the air, lunging and stabbing at nothing.
“Francesco,” Cassandra said, steering clear of the blade, “you must stop this. It’s absurd. You and Lauro are friends. Surely you don’t want things to end like this. Besides, if he betters you, your fame will be lost to history. You can’t let this happen.”
The man’s face lost some of its determination, but still he replied, “It matters not. I must go through with the challenge I made.”
“Jake,” she said in English, “go get the sleep tonic.”
His eyes lit with understanding. He darted back into the house. Lauro came out the door moments later, sword in hand.
“Come,” he declared.
The two men stepped away from each other and faced off.
“No!” cried Cassandra, moving to stand between them. “I will not allow it.”
“Contessa, please,” said Lauro. “It is now a matter of honor.”
“He’s drunk,” she said, pointing at Francesco. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Surely you cannot fight a drunken man.”
“I am not drunk!” Francesco shouted. “I merely had some wine to bolster my courage. Now, I must insist you move aside, Cassandra.”
Where was Jake? “I will not.”
“Contessa, if you don’t allow us to fight now, then we will fight as soon as you tire of standing there. You cannot hold your ground forever,” said Lauro.
“I can and I will.” she replied, folding her arms. This is ridiculous!
Jake burst through the door. “Gentlemen, I have decided to fight for my sister’s honor myself. As I agree Maestro Sampieri did all he could to defend her, I take his side against Signor Marino. But I am not skilled with a sword so let it be a fight with fists only, like real men.”
“No, Jacopo,” said Lauro. “This is between Francesco and me.”
“And it must be to the death, with weapons,” Francesco yelled in a slur of words.
“Very well.” Jake nodded toward Lauro. “Then I ask you to fight in my name, Maestro.” He went to Francesco and held out his hand. The man shifted his sword into his left hand and grasped Jake’s right. Jake laid his left hand on top, as in a gesture of sincere friendship.
He then turned and went to Lauro, offering the man his right hand only.
“Maestro, you do me a great honor.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Cassandra and Jake moved away. Jake took her by one hand and showed her his other. In it was the wand he’d removed from the bottle of tonic.
“It was a small enough drop that he wouldn’t feel it,” he whispered. “Just enough for him to sleep a few hours.”
She nodded.
The two men held their swords at the ready. Cassandra held her breath. The artists circled each other. Jake squeezed one of Cassandra’s hands and the other she clamped over her mouth. The opponents lunged and their swords clanked. She cried out. Francesco dropped his weapon.
“What? Do you acquiesce? You coward,” accused Lauro.
The young artist fell to the ground.
“He passed out from too much drink,” Jake cried, running to him. He knelt down next to him and looked into his face. “He’s asleep.”
“How can that be?” Lauro said. “I have seen the man much drunker and still able to wield a sword.”
“I take this as a sign from God,” Cassandra declared. “This duel was not meant to be. Let’s put him to bed and when he wakes, we will tell him as much. Do you think he’ll agree to rescind the challenge?”
“In a sober state, yes, most likely.”
“And you?”
“Yes.” Lauro wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Cassandra. I let my temper get the better of me.” He sheathed his sword and took her arm. Speaking quietly, he said, “I became very jealous when I realized he had sketched you. And I know how he likes his models—unclothed.”
“No, it didn’t come to that,” she said, eyes downcast. “But I regret it anyway.”
The three of them, with the help of Ottavia, got Francesco into the house and into bed in his usual room. Now was as good a time as any to tell Lauro about their plans to leave, though suddenly, the words didn’t want to come. She glanced at Jake, standing nearby, watching Francesco sleep. Maybe he would speak first. But he remained mute, seemingly lost deep in thought.
She took a breath. “Lauro, my brother and I discussed last night that we may not be able to wait for my portrait to be finished. We are longing to return safely to our country.”
“But I must finish it.”
“You are paid for it at least, Maestro,” Jake mumbled.
“The money doesn’t mean as much to me as completing the work,” said Lauro. He looked at Cassandra. “It has become important to me for many reasons, and I thought my time was much longer. Unfortunately, I also have a hindrance to contend with. The wheat harvest has begun. I will have to put aside my artwork to oversee it.”
“We have to leave the day after the pageant on July second,” said Jake without conviction, eyes still fastened on the sleeping Francesco. “We’ll plan the safest way to get to the port and then we’ll be on our way by boat.”
“I hat
e to see you go so soon,” Lauro’s dark brown eyes looked searchingly into Cassandra’s.
“I’m sorry, Lauro.” Tears began to well, but she fought them back. If she had feelings for Lauro, she wouldn’t give Jake the satisfaction of knowing about them.
“But then, I could travel to England and visit you there,” Lauro said with a burst of energy. “I’ve never been so far abroad. Would it be an imposition if I came as your guest?”
She could suddenly feel Jake’s eyes boring into the side of her head.
“No, not at all….”
“Oh, wonderful! Well, my dear friends, when you are ready to go, I will come with you to the port at Livorno, with guards to accompany us.”
“Thank you,” Jake murmured. “You’re most kind. We can settle those details later.”
Lauro was still looking into her eyes. “Cassandra, will you walk out to the wheat fields with me so I can show you how the harvest is getting underway? I feel your company is more valuable than ever, now I know you won’t be here long.”
He reached out to her and she took his hand, ignoring Jake’s stare as they passed him.
In the fields, workers in broad-brimmed straw hats wielded scythes with which they cut the long stalks in great, sweeping motions. Behind the men came the women in their simple clothes, hair tied with kerchiefs, gathering up the fallen wheat with sickles, and bundling them. Children helped their mothers or looked after younger brothers or sisters, instinctively staying far from the dangerous blades. One woman worked with a small baby tied firmly to her chest with a kind of sling.
“Where do all the workers come from?” Cassandra asked. “You don’t employ them year round, do you?”
“No, they are the small farmers who live in the surrounding area. Tenant farmers mostly. Do you have this system in England?”
There was not a feudal system in England at that time, of the kind he would understand. “In a way. Are any of them your tenants?”
“I only have one family of farmers living on my land because the estate is not so large. The Martinelli family owns a huge parcel of land south of the city.” He gestured toward Siena.
“Do you often see Teresa’s family?”
The Time Contessa (The Time Mistress Book 3) Page 11