DELUGE

by Lisa T. Bergren

  We were closer, now. Close enough to see Galileo wrestling with a man, leaning backward over the rail as the Fiorentini knight choked him. I held my breath, as if the man’s hands were around my own neck instead.

  “C’mon, c’mon…” His attacker arched his back, as if hit, and fell away, and we thought we glimpsed Orazio with a sword.

  Lia and I shouted, rooting for them. In that moment, it was as if we were in the fight, as we had been so many times before. And our guys—our future-cousins, what kind of chance did they have? Did Orazio know what to do with that sword? Did they know a little Tai Kwon Do, at least?

  And then Galileo was at the rail again, rolling over, all legs and somersaulting—

  Lia, Mom and I let out a collective scream.

  He emerged behind the Fiorentini ship, and the wrestling on their deck ceased as Orazio was detained before he could leap overboard, too. Two men lifted bows and began shooting at Galileo, now bobbing in the water behind them, swimming toward us. Arrows sliced the water to his right.

  “Nay!” cried Mom.

  “Evangelia…” growled Luca.

  She was already on the move, reaching for her bow and arrow. But the ship was still just a little out of reach. Her first arrow landed ten feet shy of the nearest archer. “Get us closer, Nicolo!” she cried.

  The Fiorentini kept shooting at Galileo, but he dived underwater.

  “Good man,” muttered Marcello. “Stay out of sight just a little longer…”

  But now my brain was practically tearing in two. We had to go after Galileo, try and pick him up. But that meant dropping sail and letting Orazio slip out of sight with the Fiorentini…

  “The Venetians shall continue the chase,” Marcello said, as if reading my mind. “We have to fish your cousin from the sea.”

  I nodded. It was the only logical choice, really.

  Nicolo steered directly toward our cousin, who continued to rise to the surface, take a deep breath of air, and submerge again.

  Lia’s next arrow struck the side of the Fiorentini ship and we could hear a man cry out. She hadn’t hit him. But she’d scared him, buying Galileo precious seconds. Both archers backed away from the edge, watching as Lia nocked another arrow. Had they been in the piazza in Venezia? Had they seen what she could do?

  She fired. And this one hit a man in the shoulder, making him wheel backward, exposing Orazio, blood on his face, hands tied behind his back. Seeing him wounded, close enough now to make out his panicked expression, made my blood boil again.

  “Man in the water, coming fast!” cried a sailor from atop a sail’s crossbeam.

  Everyone but I leaned over the edge of the ship, reaching out with hands or ropes or sticks, hoping to grasp Galileo’s hand and fish him from the sea. I backed up to the rear of the boat, looking around for something I could use to help.

  “Here he comes!” cried Mom.

  The entire ship leaned with the collective weight of everyone on one side.

  But the waves were at just the wrong angle. I could see it. See how Galileo was struggling to swim closer, unable to reach for anything we offered him.

  One by one, the sailors and my family groaned in a cascade of frustration as we passed him. He was almost out of reach when I grabbed hold of a round of rope that had been used to tie us to the docks and wrenched it over the rail, hoping, hoping, hoping it might reach him.

  I leaned over, wincing, as my belly muscles protested the sudden action. But I heard a shout of hope, then another of victory, and turned my head to see my cousin’s hands on the rope, his face rising above the water for air, as the Sea-Wolf slowed atop the bobbing waves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EVANGELIA

  The men hauled him in as the Venetians passed us, still in pursuit of the Fiorentini. In the distance, we could see the small port of Rimini, clinging to steep, faded-green hills that plunged into the blue-green sea.

  “Gabi,” I said, wrapping an arm around my sister’s back.

  “I’m okay,” she said, rising and wiping her brow. “But that was probably more than I ought to have done.”

  “I’ll say,” Mom responded, reproving. Gabi had been instructed more than once not to lift anything over twenty pounds. That rope she’d thrown had to be about forty. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “And it was worth it,” she said with a grin, gesturing to the edge. We all turned as Galileo was hauled aboard, bringing half the Adriatic with him.

  “Orazio,” he panted as a puddle spread at his feet. “Orazio!” he cried, going to the rail. He turned crazed, brown eyes on us. “They plan to flay him alive in Firenze’s piazza! We must save him!”

  “We will.” Marcello clamped a hand on his shoulder. “The Venetians will overtake them, or at least be right behind them. And we shall be directly behind them.”

  “Rimini is far more friendly to the Fiorentini than they are to the Sienese,” Luca said, pacing, as the sailors rushed to haul up sail again.

  “Yet Rimini bows to Venezia,” Marcello returned. “God has smiled. We shall join in the hunt for Orazio and take down Barbato and Foraboschi, once and for all. This ends today.” He looked at Gabi as if he made this promise to her alone. He was as done with the constant threat from those guys as we were.

  “They wouldn’t truly flay him,” I said to Luca, my eyes narrowing in horror.

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me a few steps away from Galileo. “To get to what he knows? To elicit a story that would help turn the people more firmly against the She-Wolves? Yes, yes they would. We must get to Orazio and free him first. Send him and his brother home, to Normandy. Before they put you and Gabriella at any further risk. You, my love,” he paused to tip up my chin with his knuckle, “must carry on. To Ancona. There you shall find safe passage overland to the castello. And there we shall meet you. With your cousin in hand.”

  I looked up at him in dismay. We were separating? Going on alone? And yet I saw that we had little choice. He would send the knights with us to keep us safe, while utilizing the Venetian knights to help him take down the Fiorentini, once and for all.

  I grabbed Luca’s hand. “Without Orazio…” I said, looking back to Galileo.

  “I understand. Galileo shall be stranded. We’ll bring him home, Lia,” Luca promised.

  We were close enough to see people and horses on shore. The docks of the small port were taking shape, and the Fiorentini were moving in far too quickly, with too many sails still hoisted high. Men on the docks were yelling, waving at them. Did they intend to crash ashore?

  In shock, we watched as the keel caught and the whole boat turned—like a ballerina on her toe—and then laid down on her side.

  “Orazio!” Galileo shouted in panic. Luca and Marcello held him back, worried he might jump out and swim for his brother.

  The bottom of the boat blocked us from seeing who survived, who jumped, who was now swimming for shore. But knowing Barbato and Foraboschi, I didn’t doubt they had survived. Rats always survive, it seems. Brief hope lit my heart that in the melee, Orazio might escape. But then we saw them. Four Fiorentini were dragging him along on the beach, waving away the people who came to them thinking they needed assistance of some kind.

  The Venetians headed toward the docks, dropping sail, unwilling to scuttle the doge’s ships as the Fiorentini had done with theirs. And we followed suit, dropping sail again to slow our speed for the approach, moving at such an agonizing pace toward the docks that I thought I might scream. Meanwhile, we were forced to watch the action on the beach and alongside the docks like a terrible slow-motion video. They purchased two horses and stole three more at sword point. We saw them load Orazio, bound and bleeding, on one and disappear down the road toward town.

  And the dock was still a hundred yards away.

  Luca turned toward me and kissed me, holding my face. “Take your sister and parents home. Go only to the castello. Nowhere else. There I will find you. Understood?”


  I nodded. There was a new nuance to his tone—a sense of protection, a right to make certain demands—that I could only attribute to our new marriage. “Take close care, love,” I whispered. “Hasten home to us.”

  “I want to go with you,” Galileo said to Luca, eyes clouded with fear and fury.

  “Nay,” Luca said, nothing in his eyes telling the man he’d consider his argument. “We shall travel faster without you. And if you are recaptured…”

  “What if you are captured?”

  Luca grinned at him. “By a Fiorentini? I think not. They’ve tried many a time before. They shall not gain hold of us this time either. Go to our castello. Rest. We shall bring your brother to you as quickly as we can.”

  “Thank you,” Galileo said, still clearly struggling with the idea, but accepting that Luca’s plan was best. He offered his arm and Luca took it.

  “It is nothing. You are family. My family now,” Luca said, looking back to me. He wrenched himself away, grabbed hold of his sword, and prepared with Marcello to leap to the docks as soon as they could possibly do so. Falito and Otello were right behind them.

  I went over to stand beside Gabi, and together we watched as our husbands jumped over the rail to the very end of the dock, running as soon as they gained their balance. The others were but three steps behind.

  “Go with God,” Gabi whispered as they ran up the hill to a corral with horses, the Venetians ahead of them.

  “M’lady?” asked Nicolo of Gabi, eyeing the beaches warily. “Shall we depart? Best to be away from these docks, given the company these sailors keep.”

  “Yes,” she said, her hand on her belly, misery etching her face. Clearly, she’d prefer to wait here, or at least watch until they were out of sight, but the captain was right. This town was full of men who wouldn’t hesitate to turn us over to the Fiorentini for a bag of gold.

  “Make way!” called the captain. “Haul sail! To Ancona!”

  “To Ancona!” echoed the other sailors. And within minutes, we were back at sea again.

  ***

  We made port as the sun set in the west over the rolling hills of Umbria. Nicolo arranged for a month’s mooring for our new boat, as well as a guard at night—there were more than a few who might consider trying to steal the fine vessel, so freshly launched from Venezia. We paid the sailors who had manned the Sea-Wolf—enough for our passage, a couple nights’ lodging in Ancona, and passage on another ship back to Venezia. But Nicolo refused payment.

  “It’s been an honor to serve you,” he said. “Should you find you need a crew for the Sea-Wolf, send me word, and we shall come to you.”

  “Grazie, Capitano,” I said. For as much as I’d written him off as a drunkard and playboy, I’d been impressed with him on this trip. He was a sober and strong leader. Maybe he only needed the right opportunity, a weight of responsibility, in order to shine. But then, didn’t we all?

  Dad and Celso had arranged for overland transportation, but with the setting sun, we elected to spend the night in Ancona. We hadn’t come all this way in order to be caught on the road home, and we were down to four knights guarding us. The port was generally friendly territory to the Sienese, but there’d been some unrest of late there—with the pope trying to assert more power over the region—and after all we’d gone through, as much as we just wanted to be home, we knew it was best to wait until morning. Besides, I was worried about Gabi. She needed to rest. And there was a mountain pass between us and home—it’d take all day to get there.

  So we found a comfy inn and put our own blankets atop the moth-eaten versions they offered; and just as I was fretting that I’d never get to sleep, wondering where Luca was and how they were faring in overtaking the Fiorentini, I did just that. Fell asleep.

  ***

  I awakened feeling guilty for how easy it had been, sleeping. I sat up and stretched, and saw that Gabi was at the small window, staring out at sea.

  “I wouldn’t mind it,” she said. “After the baby is born and the…” she dropped her tone, “thing is past. It’d be good, you know? To sail along these shores on the Sea-Wolf, maybe go across to Croatia.”

  “It’s pretty rough across the Adriatic, I hear,” I said. “We’d have to be in fighting shape.”

  “We will be,” she replied, staring into my eyes.

  “You’re so sure we won’t get it. The…thing. You, the hypochondriac of the family.”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, looking out again. “I just can’t imagine our future here without any of us in it. So I refuse to consider the thought.”

  I padded over to her and looped my arm through hers and looked down the cliff to the blue, blue sea. “It is really beautiful,” I said, my tone wistful. “But come, let’s grab some breakfast and set out for Castello Forelli. I don’t know about you, but I think home will be the most welcome sight of all.”

  She smiled at me, her brown eyes glowing with warmth. “Eager to move your stuff into Luca’s quarters?”

  “A bit. And maybe I can stash a bunch of his stuff before he gets home. You know, make a little more room for mine.”

  “Ahh, yes. The bachelor days are over. No more giant TV screen and old futon couch. No more framed football jersey…”

  I giggled with her. “He has his own versions. Armor that he hasn’t worn for years but still holds on to. A horsehair couch with a dozen bald spots.”

  She laughed. “He loves you so much, you could probably toss it all and he wouldn’t care. As long as you were in the room at the end.”

  I smiled, and my heart skipped a beat thinking of him coming home, of us sharing his spacious quarters. As captain of the guard, only Marcello and Gabi had bigger rooms. And his had a lovely little view of the northeastern hills, as well as a view of the courtyard on the other side…

  I turned to hurriedly dress, but in my mind, I was already in the castello, making his room ours. Beginning our life together as husband and wife. Retiring together to a….Hmmm, we’re going to need a bigger bed! I’d glimpsed it a couple of times, from the hallway, and it was fairly small. Not that he’d complain about that. The thought made me smile. Oh, hurry, Luca. Please, please find Orazio. Please be safe. And please return to me soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  GABRIELLA

  By the time we neared home that night, I honestly didn’t think I could be more relieved. Riding horseback all day was never pleasant, but I’d clearly gotten to a point of discomfort in my pregnancy that made me seriously consider bailing on riding horses altogether until I was not pregnant any longer. My belly and boobs bounced too much. My back ached. My hips burned. And that was just the beginning of the things I was ready to whine about.

  We’d run into one band of knights who hassled us a bit on a road they claimed they owned. But when the Forelli name was mentioned, they reluctantly backed off, allowing us to pass. The Marche region was full of little kingdoms, and it was good to cross the mountains and know that on the downward slope more and more friends of the Forellis would surround us. As long as we stayed south of the Fiorentini border.

  My heart sped up every time I thought of the guys giving chase to the Fiorentini, closer and closer to Firenze’s territory. Again and again, I pushed aside horrible thoughts of them getting captured, and what we would do if that happened. At one point, Dad rode up beside me, took one look at my face and said, “Rehearsing your troubles, Gabi, is the worst way to use your energy. Take it as it comes. Don’t imagine the worst. If you have to imagine, imagine the best.”

  I gave him a grateful smile and focused on that the rest of the way home. Every time I thought about Marcello being struck by an arrow, I pictured his armor keeping it from piercing his skin. Every time I thought about my love getting captured, I turned it into him capturing Barbato and Foraboschi. Every time I thought about him dying, not living to see his baby, I imagined him holding our babe in his big, strong hands. And every time I saw Galileo look down the road behind us, as if he wished his brother w
as miraculously approaching, I imagined him running down the road to greet Orazio when our guys brought him home.

  Galileo edged his horse closer to mine. “Gabriella,” he began earnestly, “I can’t begin to thank you and your husband enough. For going after Orazio…”

  “We could do no other. You are our family,” I said. “And you wouldn’t be facing such trouble if it wasn’t for us. We’re the ones who led you into that tomb in the first place, right?” I asked quietly, so only he could hear.

  He considered this. “Stories of the lost Betarrinis, their ties to Etruscan ruins…ancestors of our own. It was pretty irresistable.”

  I sighed. How many others might follow? Or would these two be the only ones with the right genetic makeup and smarts to figure out the time tunnel? It made my head hurt, thinking about it. We could mess history up big-time, we Betarrinis, if the clan kept showing up from who-knew-when to disrupt medieval life. Dad had enough trouble corralling us and keeping us from “infecting history,” as he put it. How would he control a bunch of time-traveling Betarrinis?

  At last we turned onto a road that screamed “home” to me, and I barely resisted the urge to gallop down it to the castello. We were only a mile away, then a half-mile, and finally, we could see her crenellated walls, her golden flags whipping in the stiff November breeze under dark skies. All day we’d worried we’d be caught in a downpour; thankfully, the clouds clung to their heavy loads.

  The men atop our walls cheered when they saw us. A call went out to open the gates and by the time we reached them, they felt like the welcoming arms of a mother. We entered and the gray-bearded Captain Pezzati came to me to help me dismount. I wobbled, my legs feeling so weary they were like jello, and he reached out to steady me.

  “M’lady?”

  “Nay, I’m only weary.”

  He insisted on taking my arm until my mother could tend to me, which she did, confidently escorting me through the crowd of welcoming servants and around the Great Hall to our doorway, which led up to our rooms. “Cook,” she called over her shoulder, “please send up some hot soup and bread.”