by Maggi Petton
“She is a heretic. You think I do not know about her relationship with her ‘lady in waiting’?”
“Your bishop has told you that?” Lord Giovanni asked.
“He did not have to tell me, I have eyes. But, yes, we have discussed the matter.”
“Your bishop is a hypocrite, Sofia.” Lord Giovanni’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared. “Let me tell you something about your religious leader. He is as vile a man as ever lived. He lures young boys to his quarters and uses his ‘faith’ and his God to defile them in ways that you cannot even imagine. Ask your cousin, Robert, if you want the truth.”
Sofia didn’t say anything. She did not like what she was hearing and couldn’t trust herself to respond. Her body trembled with the effort of trying dismiss what Lord Giovanni said. Her mind reeled and she became dizzy. She closed her eyes and leaned back taking deep breaths. It could not be true. It was not true. She refused to believe it. She shivered.
Lord Giovanni watched her face and continued. “Do you know the story of how your mother met Lady Isabella?”
Princess Sofia shook her head.
“Robert and your mother were returning from Rome. They had gone to beseech the Pope for help with rogue groups who were terrorizing Montalcino. On their way back they found Lady Isabella. She was tied to stakes, naked, and was being brutalized by one of the men who participated in the torture and execution of her husband and parents. He dragged her off as her family was being burned alive on false charges of heresy.”
Lord Giovanni paused and closed his eyes. He rubbed them and looked back up at Sofia. “Your mother brought Lady Isabella home and tended to her wounds personally. She was not expected to live. When she was conscious she was so frightened that she only allowed your mother near her. It was a miracle that she lived at all.”
Sofia did not know the story. She listened intently as Lord Giovanni continued. “When Lady Isabella recovered, it was discovered that she was pregnant. Your mother could have discarded her. Quite honestly, most people would have.”
Lord Giovanni went on to tell Sofia about the rapist, his branding and escape. “Your mother and my son-in-law have been plagued by regret that they could not bring Lady Isabella’s torturer to justice….or find out what he knew about the men who killed her family.”
Sofia got up on shaky legs and wandered a short distance away. As Lord Giovanni’s words tumbled within her, she fought against allowing them to settle anywhere. This information did not fit with the portrait Bishop Capshaw painted of her mother and Lady Isabella. Her heart started racing and she thought she might jump out of her skin. She did not want to hear more. None of this could be true. She needed to make him stop talking. She needed to find a way to justify her action of last night. She returned to sit next to Lord Giovanni. “That does not make their relationship right. They live in sin,” she said absolutely.
“Do they? Who determines sin, Sofia? Is it you, or me? Is it your bishop? Let us hope not!” he said somewhat emphatically. “It is God only who has the right to judge what is sin and what is not. Our job is only to love one another. Whatever your bishop told you, the love the queen and Lady Isabella share is profoundly sacred, of that I have no doubt…in spite of what your bishop may say about it.”
Lord Giovanni rose and paced a bit in front of the bench where Sofia sat again. “Your mother,” he continued, “is one of the most courageous and uncommon women I have ever known. I have more respect and admiration for her than for most men with whom I am forced to deal. It made my heart glad when my queen found love, for it brought forth her strength in ways that made her an even more passionate and compassionate ruler. Do you know why?” he asked.
Sofia shook her head. She didn’t want to know, but she needed to know. She was confused. The things he said panicked her, made her feel desperate, anxious, and yet, they were filled with such love and acceptance that she found herself craving more and more. None of this information fit her image of anyone, yet the message was so tender and pure that it made her heart afraid.
“Because,” he said, “love helps us to reveal the best parts of ourselves. Love uncovers the flame, the vehemence, in us that stays secreted away until it knows it is safe to lay itself bare. Love is that safe harbor.”
Sofia desperately tried to hold back her tears. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, trying to sift through everything he said.
Finally, he stood. “Walk with me.” As they began to walk across the courtyard he continued. “The bishop has duped you, Princess, and trust me, it’s not because he cares about you. What has he taught you about love? Your Bishop detests all women, and he will turn against you when you are queen.” He stopped and turned to face her. “He has tried to brand your mother as a heretic since before you were born. Are you aware,” he asked, “that at one time he tried to portray Lady Isabella as a witch?”
Lord Giovanni turned and resumed walking. He waited to see if Sofia might respond. When she didn’t he went on. “Your bishop has used you to his own end. He has turned you against your own mother. She does not deserve your hatred or your anger. She has only loved you from the day you were born.”
Finally, Sofia asked, “If the Bishop is truly as bad as you say, why would my mother not warn me?”
“Would you have believed her?”
Sofia closed her eyes and bowed her head. She shook her head in answer.
“Princess,” he stopped and lifted her chin with his finger, “she saw the hold he had on you, as did we all. She loved you too much to compromise your faith. She could see that your faith in God was twisted with your belief in the bishop. She didn’t want to compromise your faith. When those of us who love your mother saw what was happening, we desperately wanted to intervene, especially your cousin, Robert. Your mother forbade us to say anything, insisting you would come to your own realizations in your own time. She wanted you to come to her on your own terms.”
Sofia looked up at Lord Giovanni. “And why do you tell me this now?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “I am a foolish old man, Princess, but one who believes that God put us here to watch over one another. I have watched long enough.”
Lord Giovanni turned to leave. “One more thing, Princess; as long as there is breath in me, I am here for you as I have been here for your mother. I am at your service, always.” He bowed and took his leave.
He left Sofia standing in the courtyard.
Some betrayals are accidental; the unhappy result of a shift in feelings or circumstances that leave both the betrayer and the betrayed feeling like hapless victims; each submerged in their innocence, believing the other is to blame, when in reality no one is to blame. Life simply unfolded in such a way as to propel each into, or out of, the place of the lesson.
And then there are betrayals of purpose, those planned and selfishly contrived to the benefit of the perpetrator, designed to manipulate, seduce and mislead the innocent.
As the words of Lord Giovanni settled on her and seeped into her very being, Sofia saw her past from a different perspective. The insight hit her with the force of a blow that slammed into her, grabbing, clawing at her insides and hauling them out into the light of truth. The realization of the events she set into motion ripped her gut with a force that doubled her in two. She held back the scream building in her and looked desperately in the direction that Lord Giovanni had left moments before. She ran after him.
“Lord Giovanni…Lord Giovanni!” she called from the depths of her fear, her anger…and her sorrow.
Though far from her, Lord Giovanni heard and turned in her direction. She was running after him. When she caught up with him she grabbed his robe and cried out, “You must help me!”
“What is it?” he said, “Sofia, calm down and tell me.”
“Oh, God,” she cried as she sunk to her knees, still clinging to him. “He is going after them!”
“Who is? Sofia!” he grabbed her by the arms, pulled her up and demanded that she answer him. “Is the quee
n in danger?”
Sofia was nearly incoherent. Every time she tried to speak, her words were garbled by the sobs that wedged themselves between each word. Lord Giovanni grabbed Sofia by the shoulders, “Sofia, you must tell me what has happened. Now!” he ordered.
She took a breath and said. “Captain Bello, the Inquisition Enforcer. I told him the route they were taking. Please help me,” she pleaded. “He is going to arrest my mother and Lady Isabella for heresy. He plans to put them in prison! We must save them!”
Lord Giovanni ran. He found Robert’s second in command and told him of the situation. He mobilized a force.
Sofia turned to Lord Giovanni. “I am going with them.” She flew to get her horse. “Gio,” she thought. She had asked him to stay behind with her, not to go bury James . She didn’t want him to be caught and suspected by the Inquisitor. “I’ll find him when I return.”
She raced to the courtyard where the army had assembled.
“Men!” the commander shouted. “Our queen is in danger. The funeral party left early this morning, but they will be travelling slowly. They have several hours lead on us, but we should be able to overtake them quickly. Be prepared and on alert for any signs of danger, we believe an ambush awaits our Queen and our Captain!”
Nearly sixty soldiers on horseback left the castle in the direction of the funeral party. With any luck they would overtake the party within a couple of hours. In a cloud of dust they departed.
Robert and his few men set up in the rocks.
“Majesty, we are under attack, but from whom I do not yet know,” Robert reported. “Ercole is gone, and there is blood on his horse and saddle.”
“Is there no sign of him?” Catherine asked.
“None…nor Marcus, his companion.”
“It is a planned ambush, then.”
“I am afraid so.” Robert excused himself to have a word with some of his men. Catherine saw him pointing in the direction of the woods. He directed a few of them to keep watch from behind the rocks.
He returned to Catherine and Bella at a run. “I suspect the attack will come from the woods. For now I believe we are in a better position here, ready to fight.” His eyes darted continually, scanning the tree line of the forest for any movement. “By now they know that we are aware of their presence, so they have lost the element of surprise. If there are only a few of them, they may decide to leave us be.”
Catherine looked at Bella who seemed to have come back to herself a bit. Catherine did not want her to worry, but was relieved to see her responding to something other than her despair.
Catherine looked around at their small group. “Our biggest danger is in numbers, isn’t it?” she asked Robert.
Solemnly Robert nodded. “If we are outnumbered, we have little chance of defeating them.” He noticed that her hand gripped the handle of her sword. “I wish I had insisted that you return for your chain.”
“I would have ignored you anyway,” she said. “Bella has none, and I did not care to burden myself additionally. It will be fine, cousin.”
He started to take his off his own chain to give to her. “Don’t!” she commanded. “You will be at the forefront of whatever battle might ensue. I will not wear it!”
His look implored her, but he knew it was useless to insist. “Please, stay hidden. Do not engage the enemy except in defense.”
“I will be careful,” she said. She avoided his eyes.
He shook his head.
“You are always careful. I am asking for more. I am asking you to stay hidden unless directly engaged by the enemy.”
Catherine heard his worry and didn’t want to distract him with his concern for her. “Very well, cousin. I will do as you ask.”
He called to one of his soldiers, “Cosimo, you are the best rider and have the fastest horse. How quickly can you return to the castle to bring reinforcements?”
“Two hours, Captain.”
“Good, see that you gather a force of at least fifty men as quickly as possible and double back with them on a fresh horse,” Robert commanded.
“The sun is high, I will return by mid afternoon. You have my word.” And he was gone.
Catherine sat in the rocks next to Bella. She took Bella’s hand and held it. “I am sorry, love. It seems my title has endangered you when I wish most to protect you.”
Bella squeezed Catherine’s hand and rested her head on her shoulder, but she said nothing.
“I don’t know what to expect, but it is clear we are under attack. Take this and use it if you have to.” She held out a dagger. Bella didn’t touch it. “Bella, you must be armed. I could not bear to think of you totally helpless if--.” She broke off. Bella met her eyes, nodded once and took the dagger. She placed it through her belt. “Stay hidden if we are attacked,” said Catherine. “Only use the weapon if you have no choice.” She sat next to Bella and watched the line of trees marking the edge of the forest. It was eerily quiet. Her eyes played many tricks on her.
The sun was directly overhead. It was very warm. Their shadows disappeared. It was an hour since Cosimo left.
The soldiers hiding on top of the rocks had the best vantage point, but saw nothing.
Robert again sought out Catherine and said, “The longer they wait, the better for us. If Cosimo can get back, we should have no problem defending ourselves no matter the size of our enemy. I would be surprised if the size of the lot numbered more than our own group, we would have heard some sound at the very least.” Robert stood and looked around again. Catherine knew he did not like the waiting. If she were not with him, she knew he would have made a more offensive strategy.
“Captain,” said one of the soldiers on top of the rocks. Robert looked at the soldier who jutted his chin toward the tree line.
Robert whirled and saw a rider. Instantly he tensed. “Majesty, please stay hidden,” he hissed.
He mounted his horse and spoke just softly enough to be heard by his own soldiers, “Mount and be ready.” As he spoke, twelve more riders moved out of the trees and into the open field. Without taking his eyes off of the approaching group he added, “Move away from the queen and servants. Engage the enemy as far away from them as possible.” They rode forward at a slow walk.
Robert calculated in his head, “One soldier wounded, or dead. One missing. One hopefully on his way back with help. Thirteen to eight.” He did not like the odds, but his men were professional soldiers. The others looked ragged and undisciplined, but fearless.
When Robert was close enough to be heard he pulled his horse to a stop. “Identify yourselves!” he commanded.
The rider who originally emerged from the trees rode forward slightly. Robert could now see that he wore a large wooden cross around his neck. “It is you in need of identification, sir.”
“We are a funeral party only.”
“A funeral party happens to be just what we are looking for,” the harsh man smiled. His riders laughed at his comment as if it were a great joke. “In fact, we are seeking the funeral party of the Queen,” he went on. “Given that you are obviously soldiers of the Queen, I am guessing that we have found our party.”
“State your business with us or let us continue on our way,” Robert demanded.
“My business is with your heretic Queen,” stated the leader. He drew his sword and spurred his horse toward the rocks where Catherine hid. His compatriots drew their swords and with a huge, single battle cry of “For Christ and Church!” they attacked Robert and his company.
Catherine watched all of this from her cover in the rocks. She saw the attack begin and saw the lone rider barreling toward the rocks with his sword drawn. Without hesitation she ordered Bella to stay hidden with the servants and she stepped out with her own sword drawn.
When the man on the horse reached her he burst into malicious laughter. “Ah, Your Majesty, I have heard that you fancy yourself quite the swordsman.” He dismounted and made an exceedingly patronizing bow before her.
“Who
are you and what do you want with us?” demanded the Queen.
“I am the one asking the questions, Majesty,” he responded curtly.
“The swords of your men do not question, sir. And you have asked no questions. Again, what do you want of us?”
“I am following up on reports of heretics in your group. In particular, a crowned heretic and her companion,” snarled the man.
Catherine did not wait for further information but lunged at the man with her sword. Her action took him by surprise, but he recovered quickly and engaged his own sword. His smile left his face quickly once she attacked. She knew he was surprised by her strength and skill. But he was stronger.
Catherine was able to ward off many of his blows and strike enough of her own to throw him off balance. She was making the majority of the offensive moves, lunging and faking, then striking where he did not expect. Because of his strength and expertise, Catherine knew her best strategy was to continue to surprise him. At one point his sword tip became caught up in the twist of metal that served as her loop guard. She twisted her forearm up and away and nearly disarmed him, but he managed to hold onto his sword and with a curse, he pulled it free. He was a moderately built man, so he did not possess the reach of most men. This gave her a slight advantage as her sword was longer, but she knew she would have to dispatch him quickly or her strength would give out.
Each clash of her sword against his, echoed off the rocks. She was aware of the battle raging in the field, as well, but knew better than to lose her focus. She continued to ward off his blows and strike some of her own well placed ones, but still he came at her, his teeth bared and his grin unnerving.
As Robert had taught her, she made a move toward the man’s face, causing him to raise his sword to protect himself. But she was not after his face. She made her move and reached down to cut his femoral artery. She managed a deep gash that caught him unaware, but she missed the artery and did not stop him. He was furious and came after her with more power than she could handle. He was backing her into the rocks. Her arms were growing heavy, and her hands were cramping, but she did not let up and continued to attack him, trying to keep her edge.