by Gian Bordin
"It will be yours again, Chiara, I’m certain," Mercurio said softly.
"Thank you, Mercurio. I won’t rest until it is." She let the tears roll down her cheeks, unashamed, grateful to be understood.
"Have you ever seen the monastery at Populónia?" he asked, pointing north to the fortifications perched on top of the cliffs, just barely visible at the horizon.
"No, but I would like to visit. My father told me that the settlement dates back to Roman times."
"That is correct. It would be an easy day trip."
"Will you take me there, Mercurio?"
"Chiara, it would be my greatest pleasure."
Next morning, they were under way after breakfast, riding leisurely over the heights of the peninsula. In contrast to the gray overcast of the previous day, a stiff sirocco had chased away all clouds. A blue sky was mirrored by the even darker blue of the sea. On top of Monte Massoncello they rested, enjoying the clear view toward Elba. They could even see the dark outlines of Corsica on the horizon. The monastery of Populónia in all its starkness came into view against the blue horizon from the last of the three hilltops, Poggio Grosso, less than half a league north. It was still well before midday, when its walls loomed a few hundred paces beyond the sparse trees.
"The entrance is from the other side," Mercurio said, while at the same time from the right they heard the angry snorting of a wild boar. Mercurio seemed alarmed. "Let’s get away. I have seen them attack horses."
He put his stallion into a canter, right into the path of the largest pig she had ever seen. The horse reared, kicking the boar and throwing its rider off at the same time. Chiara’s instant reaction was to free her bow when she saw the monster rush from the bushes, while at the same time pulling an arrow from her quiver. She aimed at the animal, just as it charged the fleeing riderless horse a second time. The arrow struck the boar in the neck. Bloodcurdling squeals sent birds into flight, but the wound did not slow the colossus as it changed course toward her. The mare shied. She barely managed to stay in the saddle, while ripping the horse away. The boar’s tusks missed its hind legs by a hand width before the colossus crashed, skidding on the ground. It raised itself again on wobbly legs, squealing all the time, and then slowly fell over to its side, snapping the arrow in two. The eerie silence was only broken by the frightened snorting of her mare. Chiara prepared a second arrow, but the boar shuddered a few times and then lay quiet.
She jumped off and ran to Mercurio. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed, his jaw muscles taught, breathing hard.
"Is he dead?" he pressed out between his lips. "Shoot him in the eyes once more." When she hesitated, he muttered: "Go."
She did as he had ordered and then rushed back to him. By then he was sitting, leaning on his right arm.
"Have you broken your left leg?" she asked.
He nodded. "I think so."
"I’ll get help from the monastery. Don’t move until I’m back, please."
He nodded again. "But leave me your bow and arrows, just in case."
She placed the weapons next to him and brushed his hair lightly. "I’ll be quick, Mercurio."
Ten minutes later, she was back, joined by four sturdy monks with a stretcher. One of them inspected the boar, exclaiming: "What a giant! We’ll be back for that tasty meal."
The other three lifted Mercurio carefully onto the stretcher, making him as comfortable as his condition allowed and then all four carried him back to the monastery, while Chiara searched for his horse. She found it under the walls, still shivering.
After the monks had placed Mercurio’s left lower leg in splints — their doctor claimed that it was a simple break — she joined the old soldier in the infirmary.
"Chiara, you put yourself in danger to save my life," he said, as she sat down on the stool a monk had brought for her. "Those tusks would have torn me to pieces."
"No need to dwell on it. You would have done the same for me. How’s the pain?"
"Not so bad anymore. The monks have given me quite a bit of grappa. It helps."
"The doctor says that you must stay with them for a while, that it would be dangerous to move you until the break has sufficiently healed. Do you want any of your things to be brought here?"
"No, the monks will provide me with everything I need, but you are not going to ride back alone. Lady Maria will kill me with her looks alone if you do. You must send a monk to Piombino for an escort."
"No need for that and don’t worry, I can handle Lady Maria."
"Yes, you can handle anything, even the biggest wild boar. It’s yours. You should have it taken back to Piombino. Its meat is succulent."
"No, I’ve already told the abbot to keep it and let you take your revenge by getting your teeth into it."
He chuckled. "Don’t make me laugh. It hurts."
"You’ll be all right. I’ll come and visit you before I leave Piombino. And now, I should better be off to take the bad news to Lady Maria. I’m not sure how she will cope without you."
She kissed his forehead and saw him blush.
* * *
Rather than go over the tops, she first cut a bit east, as suggested by the monks, following a well-formed track that after half a league skirted south along the foot of the hills on the peninsula. She was a bit more than halfway back to Piombino when she glanced back and noticed seven riders rapidly catching up with her. She did not like the view of it. Could she outrun them to Piombino? It was still too far away. Her mare would not be able to keep it up for that long. She decided to lose them in the hills, in one of many broken-up parts that provided good hiding places as well as the possibility for ambush, should they get too close. She immediately spurred her horse on to a gallop, making for the nearby forest ahead of her. Looking back as she dipped into the trees, she saw that the group were galloping too, removing any doubt that they were after her.
Once sufficiently far into the forest, she cut back at a narrow angle, rather than continue straight on, hoping that their pursuers could not read tracks. She soon came to a small creek and followed it deeper into the hills slowly gaining height. At a fork, rather than take the southern one, she took the one leading in a northwesterly direction and was soon speeding along an open valley. She guessed that this would lead her back to Populónia.
Halfway up she spotted the seven a fair stretch along a ridge to her left. She immediately saw that there was no way for them to descend by horse directly into the valley and rode on. A quick glance back showed that the group had split, with three turning back, presumably to pursue her into the valley. That bothered her. Were they trying to wedge her in from both sides? Her question was soon answered when she reached a gully at the end of the valley and saw it turning sharply left in the direction of the four riders who had remained along the ridge. What to do now? It was too late to backtrack. The three riders would by now be entering the valley, nor could she go up the gully. It would deliver her right into the hands of the other four.
She dismounted, removed the four remaining arrows, and then slapped the horse hard in the flanks, imitating at the same time the howling and barking of a pack of wolves. Frightened, its ears folded back, the poor animal raced up the gully. Chiara quickly made for the steep slope to her right. Once hidden in the underbrush, she removed the skirt she wore over Alda’s woollen pants and then climbed up the steep, rocky woods. About three quarters up, she heard the pounding of hooves and cowered behind bushes, waiting for the riders to go past. When the sounds died away, she continued up the slope, making sure not to be seen from the ridge across the valley. She had reached the top when the echoes of angry shouts reached her.
They found the mare. She caught her breath and rested. Had she given them the slip, she wondered? If they were bandits, they would probably be satisfied with the fine horse and saddle. I’ll miss her. The spirited mare had been her faithful companion for more than three years. She’s a bit like me, loving a challenge. How many times have I raced her?
She was
just getting up, when she heard loud shouts. Had somebody called her name? There it was again. No mistake. They were calling her. Were they not bandits but come to bring her a message? She listened again.
"Lady Chiara … come out of hiding, no harm will come to you."
Part of her was already yielding. Maybe I was wrong.
"We have you surrounded. You can’t get away."
No, she had not been wrong about their intention, only about their nature. These were not bandits. They had come to capture her. Niccolo. There could be no doubt. He wanted to settle his score in a different way. Getting to safety was now even more urgent. He would not give up that readily, knowing her alone and within reach.
Keeping just inside the trees, she ran along the flat plateau extending north from the ridge toward a series of rock outcrops on a small hill. From its top she should get a good view over the area to plan her next move. She went around the hillock and climbed its northern slope, so as not to be seen from the south.
On the horizon to the northwest the desolate and foreboding silhouette of the monastery rose against a blue sky, about a league away, mostly over open undulating country. Although it looked like ideal pastures, not a single white fleck hinted of grazing sheep. It would take her at least an hour. Should she risk it? It would leave her vulnerable. She could easily be spotted from afar and surrounded in the open. To the west, about half the distance, Poggio Grosso and Monte Massoncello beckoned with good hiding places among the rocks. But then she could run right into Niccolo’s men. Maybe the best strategy was to wait until dusk and then make for the monastery under the cover of darkness.
She searched for a sunny place that offered her a reasonable view to the south, east and west, while still hiding her. After about an hour, she briefly saw a group of three riders on the southeastern slope of Massoncello. They have split up again. The other four might be searching in her direction. Although that increased her chances of being discovered, it also offered her the advantage of fewer opponent. And then she heard the snorting of a horse, coming from the north. She crawled a few steps to get a view. A bit more than a hundred feet below were four men. Two had dismounted. A blonde giant, wearing the telltale garments of a slave, was inspecting the grass, while the other, a tall dark-haired fellow, was scanning the rock outcrops. One of the two still mounted was Niccolo.
Had they found her tracks up the hill? The blonde man raised himself and also looked up toward her. My sailor! It felt like somebody had sunk an iron into her. No, not him! The dark-haired one nodded and the two drew their swords and started uphill. Her heart was beating in her throat, as she grimly readied her bow. When they were no more than ten to twelve paces below her, she rose, her bow taught. The dark-haired yelled: "We’ve got her!" half a second before the arrow struck his face, and he fell backward without a sound, the feathered part of the arrow pointing straight up.
"Selvo, kill her! Kill her!" came Niccolo’s shout, while the fourth man now dismounted too.
The sailor looked at the one at his feet and then his eyes met hers, their blue as dark as the sea, his hair as light as straw. She had another arrow ready, but had her bow lowered.
"Sailor, why does a proud man like you take orders from a coward like Niccolo?" She forced her voice to a singing ring, carrying far.
"Selvo, you dog, kill her! Do it! Now!"
The fourth man had drawn his sword and was coming uphill, she noticed, none too fast.
"Sailor, what is to be? Dying for your slave master, or freedom with me?"
Although her face showed a smile, she was trembling inside. Oh God, Selvo, please choose me, don’t make me shoot you! She was not even sure if she would be able to do it. His face betrayed the struggle in his mind.
"Sailor, I offer you freedom."
Suddenly, he grinned and dropped his sword. She raised her bow and aimed at Niccolo. He put the spurs into the horse’s side and sped off, the other three horses following him. She shifted her aim at the fourth man, shouting: "Run, man, if you value your life."
He stopped in mid-stride, looking back at the four horses galloping away, turned and ran out of her reach, and then continued jogging after the disappearing horses.
"Come up here, Selvo, and bring your sword along."
By the time he had climbed over the rocks, she was standing a few paces farther back, a knife in each hand. Her left also held a purse that contained silver and gold coins adding up to about eight florins. She noticed his glance at the knives.
"Ah, the knife woman," he said with a smile, a smile that went right to her heart.
"The knife woman?"
"Yes, that’s what the sailors call you since you killed Moro."
"I see… Here, catch!" She threw the purse in a wide arc to him and he caught it with his left. "This should get you to Naples and beyond if you spend it wisely."
"Lady Chiara, why do you help me?"
This is only the second time he talks to me. His voice was like music to her ears, the slight accent sounding exotic. "Because you saved me from having to kill you."
"You killed the other man without blinking an eye. Why not me?"
"Because you offered me water on the Santa Caterina, and you didn’t betray me when you saw me swim away."
He frowned and then his eyes lit up. "You are the girl we picked up off the coast?" He lowered his gaze. "Please forgive my insolence, Lady Chiara." His eyes searched hers again. "You did not drown?"
"No, I didn’t drown."
"This is a miracle."
"No, it’s only a strong will to survive. And now we can’t tarry any longer. Niccolo will soon be back with the others. We need to find a hiding place. But before that, you must change clothing with the other man, or else you will immediately be picked up as a runaway slave."
He nodded and disappeared down the slope. She went to the edge and watched him remove the man’s clothing. Then he stripped, showing her his back. She marveled again at the play of his shoulder muscles, the strong legs, the tight buttocks. Stop dreaming, you silly girl, she chided herself.
"What shall we do with this one?" he asked when he was finished, revealing no embarrassment that she had watched him.
"Throw him down the slopes over there." She pointed to the edge where she had come up.
He ripped out her arrow and hoisted the body over a shoulder, while she picked up the discarded clothing, the second sword, and the arrow, and then led the way. She did not know why she trusted her sailor, whereas she would be very much on guard with a stranger. But then he was no stranger. He had been on her mind many a time, had often been her last thought before sleep conquered her.
Half an hour later they were back in the gully. Selvo told her that while they had searched the slopes, he had seen a small cave, where they could possibly hide until dark.
The cave was about twenty feet deep, turning sharply to the left and widening to ten feet closer to the back. It would offer good shelter even if they had to pass the night there. From its narrow entrance, the beginning of the valley she had come up could be seen through an opening in the forest canopy. Nearby, a small creek gurgled down the slope. They both stilled their thirst, before resting at the narrow entrance, soaking in the waning rays of the late afternoon sun.
"Where will you go, Selvo?" Chiara asked, breaking the silence. She wanted to hear his voice.
"I will try to go back to my home, Lady Chiara."
"Selvo, call me Chiara. At this time we’re both equal, both hunted." He responded with a smile, and she noticed that she was staring. "And where is home?" she asked, forcing her gaze away.
"Way north of the waters your people call the Black Sea. I will search for my wife and my little son."
Her heart sank. He’s married … You silly girl, what does it matter? Remember you told Veronica that there was no hope.
"Were they made slaves too?"
"No, I and several other men were captured when we were fishing in our river your people call the Tyras."
; "How old is your little boy now?"
"Soon five years old."
"How long will it take you to get back home?"
"If I can go by boat, maybe four months, otherwise much longer."
"You would work as a sailor?"
"Yes, but I have to be careful not to become slave again."
"Aren’t you trained to be first mate on a ship?"
"Yes … how do you know, Chiara?"
The sound of her own name, like a musical chord when he pronounced it, echoed in her mind. "I asked Lady Lucia. You remember, you and Moro were carrying a bulky case and Moro wanted to force his way, and I didn’t let him, … and you gave me a smile, as if you enjoyed that."
He grinned. "Yes, I did. He swore after you for a long time. He was vicious. Everybody feared him… Many were glad you killed him."
"He tried to kill me… Maybe in Naples you might find work on a ship that will take you to Constantinople."
The sun was dipping behind Monte Massoncello. Cold was creeping up the valley. Suddenly, they heard the neighing of a horse, coming up from the gully. They withdrew into the cave entrance, holding their weapons ready, listening for any sounds. A short while later, the dull pounding of galloping horses faded away slowly. Five riders with two extra horses galloped out of the valley and disappeared in the forest beyond. Where is my mare?
"They’ve not given up," she remarked. "What happened to my horse?"