by David Blixt
"No, Mari asked me not to tell anyone. But I didn't want to go in alone."
Antonia rubbed her hands briskly. "Well then, get that candle lit!"
In the still air between the split rock halves, lighting the candle wasn't difficult. Getting Rolando to enter the cave was harder. Antonia bore the light while Gianozza half-dragged the reluctant mastiff into the damp, dark cave under the hill.
"Do you think there are more traps?" asked Antonia.
"Mari said all the old traps had been taken down. I don't think my husband would have sent me here if there was any danger."
The passage was not too tall, barely high enough to accommodate riderless mounts. But it was wide enough, after the opening, to take three horses abreast. The path turned and a few paces in daylight disappeared.
Rolando was unhappy but stayed silent, sniffing at shadows. Slowly the ground leveled off. The earthen roof rose, then suddenly vanished high above. Gianozza let out a gasp. The cavern was enormous, large as a castle courtyard. There were fire pits, and along the earthen walls there were bunk beds, hitching posts for horses, and two long water troughs. Above, roots of trees and plants hung down. Yet the ceiling was so high that had the girls jumped they would have been unable to reach those dangling roots.
"Why did your husband tell you about this place?" Antonia wondered why she was whispering. But Gianozza answered in the same hushed tones.
"He said this was to be our secret place, and that if he knew I was here he could always find me in his dreams."
Porcheria, thought Antonia tartly. Romantic, yes, and sweet. But also crafty. If Mariotto was at all concerned about his bride having eyes for other men — one man in particular — he'd created a ritual that would put him in her mind for a good hour or two every day. Antonia thought with satisfaction that Ferdinando would never be so manipulative or foolish. She suddenly reddened, as she did whenever she thought pleasing things about Ferdinando. She turned her head, wishing the candle would go out to hide her embarrassment.
Her wish came true. A surprising movement of air extinguished the flame. At the same moment Rolando began to growl, and Antonia thought she heard something moving in the cave. "An animal."
"Or a demon," said Gianozza.
Antonia dragged her friend back towards the tunnel. "An animal, like a rabbit or a squirrel." From Rolando's continued growl she wondered if it might not be a bear. This was a fine home for a bear. Or a wolf. "It's probably more scared of us."
Climbing out without light was a disaster. They fell several times, making far too much noise. But by the time they had reached the sunlight their fears were subsiding.
Antonia was the first to start laughing. "You ought to see yourself!"
Gianozza brushed at the front of her skirts. "You don't look any better!"
The danger of the cave now passed, Rolando was bored by the girls. He yawned and licked his chops. Suddenly his ears pricked up. Seconds later he was barking wildly. Tearing the leash from Gianozza's grip, he leapt forward and dashed around the path out of sight. "Rolando! Rolando!"
Chasing after him, they were stopped by a voice. Someone was talking to the hound. Who? How many? In an instant a much more real fear replaced the nameless one of the cave.
"Back up!" hissed Antonia, pulling Gianozza towards the cave's mouth. Why had the dog stopped barking?
A cracking twig. Someone was coming closer. Antonia stooped, feeling around her feet. There was dirt, but no fist-size rocks. With nothing else, she took a handful of soil and hoped she could hit the intruder in the eyes. Gianozza did the same.
A figure emerged around the bend. They let their missiles fly. "Hey!" cried the young man, throwing up his hands to cover his face. The dog was leaning against his leg, tail wagging furiously.
For a moment Gianozza stared. Then she ran to him, calling out, "Paolo! Paolo!"
Antonia had to look again. The man's name wasn't Paolo. She'd only seen him once before, but she could never forget his handsome features. It was Mariotto Montecchio, finally returned. Paolo must have been some kind of pet name.
"Oh, my love!" Husband met wife, his arms encircling her and lifting her off her feet. Their mouths met in near desperation.
Antonia looked away, but continued to study Montecchio out of the corner of her eye. He was even more handsome now that age had taken away some of his prettiness. But what clothes! He was dressed almost entirely in the latest French fashion. Leather doublet cut short, the better to show off the line of his upper thigh. Sleeves slashed to show off the fancy scalloped sleeves with bright rainbow-coloured lining. His hat was a curled liripipe. His practical riding boots, the only Italian feature to his attire, were sorely out of place.
Mariotto breathed in the scent of his wife's hair. "O Francesca, I've missed you!"
Paolo? Francesca? Realization struck Antonia. Francesca da Rimini and her lover? That's the basis for their great romance? The idiots! The fools! They didn't understand L'Inferno at all!
Gianozza pulled back from his embrace. "You beast! You knew you were coming home!"
Mariotto ducked his head sheepishly. "The Capitano released me three weeks ago. I wanted to surprise you." He frowned. "Who's with you?"
"Oh, this is Antonia Alaghieri."
"Pietro's sister?"
"Yes. I didn't want to come in here alone."
One arm still around Gianozza's waist, Mariotto crossed to Antonia and held out his hand. Hers was filthy, she realized. Yet he still bent low over it as he bowed in greeting. "Mademoiselle. C'est une plaisure, vraiment."
"Signore," she replied in Italian as she curtsied. Now that he was closer she saw the design on the tunic under the doublet. There was a finely embroidered rendering of the Montecchi family crest. Just beneath that, directly over his liver, were three initials — G.d.B. That, at least, was sweet.
They exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries, Antonia feeling awkward as could be. The fact that the marriage had never been consummated was written in flaming words above their heads. Mariotto intended an assignation with his wife. Their first.
Mariotto smiled at Antonia. She returned the smile weakly. Gianozza was gazing at Antonia too, surely thinking of nothing but how to get rid of her.
Glancing down at her clothes, Antonia made a choking sound in her throat. "Oh! I must look frightful! Is there a stream or something nearby where I can clean up before I return to the castle?"
"Just head back the way we came," said Gianozza quickly, "and off to the south about a half a mile is a stream." Mariotto beamed, but Gianozza frowned in genuine concern. "Are you sure you can find your way back?"
"I'll take Rolando with me," Antonia said, reaching down for the dog's leash. "He can guide me."
"Of course he can!" cried Mariotto cheerfully. "This old mutt knows these lands better than I do!"
"Well, goodbye, then!" Antonia tugged on the leash, hard. Her cheeks burned. As she turned down the path she wondered, Would it be too indecorous to run? There was a cooing sigh from behind her. Oh, wait until I'm out of earshot please!
The dog resisted, straining back towards his master. "Come on, Rolando," whispered Antonia. "They don't want you there either."
Pietro rode north with Fazio and a band of thirty men. They were passing Ferrara when he was hailed by a large man ridiculously perched on the back of a mule.
"Hola!" Waving, the man almost fell off his mule. "Señores! Por favor — I need, ah, I need some aiudo." A wide floppy hat shadowed his dark skin, black hair, and beard. There were crimson stains on his shirt, but not blood. Wine. "I am riding to Treviso, and — well, I am, how you say, lost. May I ride with you?"
Pietro said, "We're not going that far."
"As far as you do go, then." His accent was definitely Spanish, but his Italian wasn't half bad. It was the drink that was giving him trouble.
"We're in a bit of a hurry…"
"So am I! It will work out so well, for me to come with you!"
It was common practice
for a band of soldiers to take charge of any lone travelers. There were already three women and their grooms in Pietro's party, so he couldn't very well say they weren't taking on extra people. Still, this Spaniard could be a thief. "What do you do for a living?"
"I am a world-class notary, señor! Perhaps you could use a notary on your travels?"
"No, thanks. What's your name?"
"Oh, I am a lout! My name is Persiguieron La Mordedura. But if you allow me passage, you may call me whatever name you wish! Just do not call me early!" He laughed hard at his own joke.
Pietro sighed. "Very well. Ride up front, where I can keep an eye on you. And don't bother the ladies."
"Señor! What do you take me for? A cad?" He raised his hands in mortification and fell out of his saddle entirely. While he righted himself Pietro signaled Fazio to start the small band moving again.
Antonia took her time at the river. When she looked respectable again, she woke Rolando from his nap and set off in a roundabout path for the castle. She was in no hurry to get there. Arriving alone would cause a stir, and Gargano shouldn't learn of his son's return from a slip of a girl he barely knew. That was up to Mariotto and Gianozza.
Paolo and Francesca, she thought with wry disgust. She'd laughed at the Paris-Helen-Menelaus triad her father had coined just after Gianozza's marriage. After that there had been Arthur, Guenivere, and Lancelot jokes. But Paolo and Francesca? Well, Gianozza had always said it was Dante's poetry that brought Mariotto to her. People just don't understand that story.
Antonia and Rolando strolled along the stream, looking at the green mosses and listening to the birds. When the mastiff sniffed some prey out, Antonia released him, then settled herself on a rock beneath a shady tree to wait. They were near Ser Bonaventura's land, Gianozza had said. Maybe she should go see Ferdinando. She had thought up some particularly demeaning taunts since their last encounter.
It bothered her that her feelings were so obvious that Gianozza could tease her about them. She hadn't really admitted to herself that she had grown to rather like Petruchio's awkward cousin. That they were consistently mean to each other was their defense, the unspoken agreement between them, each keeping the other at bay.
She forced herself to think of her father's work, determined not to think about that person. It was growing late when she finally angled back towards the castle. In another hour the sky would begin to redden. If they aren't done by now… Antonia primly refused to finish the thought.
Castello Montecchio stood at a hilltop some five miles southwest of Vicenza. Built on the ruins of a similar fortress constructed some centuries before, the new castle was well fortified. The horse stables for which the Montecchi were famous weren't within the castle, but had a separate walled compound to the north.
As Antonia drew close to the castle, she began to wonder. There seemed to be more men-at-arms on the ramparts of the castle walls than when she'd set out this morning. It was a little unnerving, seeing the lines of spears and helmets. Squinting up, she saw that all the soldiers were turned inward, looking down from the high walls into the main yard.
She managed to keep the mastiff restrained as she walked through the main gate. A hundred mounted men-at-arms occupied the yard in front of her with their squires, pages, and extra mounts. Among them their pages dashed, unstrapping a buckle here, replacing a thrown shoe there. The soldiers sat on their horse's backs, waiting for orders. Several had dismounted and now strolled through the compound to stretch their legs.
Antonia saw a face she knew, though not a face she was looking for. God, what is he doing here, today of all days? Approaching him she said, "Ser Capulletto?"
Antony turned at once, hoping she was someone else. Seeing who it was, he still smiled and greeted her. She asked what brought him here. "We've just been told that Padua's breaking its treaty," he told her. "My guess is that we've come to ram it down their throats. Uguccione is leading us, and he says we're to wait in these parts until we're needed." He glanced down at her. "You look like you've been rolling in the mud."
"Gianozza and I were out for a walk..."
"Yes, Gianozza. Where is she?" He tried to make it sound casual.
Antonia hedged. "I came back without her."
"You mean she's in the forest alone? Antonia, there're Paduans about! Spies and mercenaries, not to mention wild animals!"
"She's not alone," said Antonia quickly. "She — ran into an acquaintance and they fell to — talking."
"I'm going out there." Antony turned to his groom. "Andriolo, my horse!"
O God, isn't this a disaster in the making? She opened her mouth to say something, anything. But a louder voice called, "Capulletto! I need you!"
It was on the tip of Capulletto's to snarl that he was busy, but he caught himself and walked to where Uguccione della Faggiuola waited in the company of Lord Montecchio and several other leading Veronese. Antonia followed, jostling though the crowd of soldiers and servants. Here were the familiar faces of Nico da Lozzo and Ser Petruchio Bonaventura, whose grin shone from under his beard. "Got my orders," he rumbled delightedly. "A leader of men at last. Won't that amuse my Kate."
"Take her mind off that bun in her oven," remarked Nico.
"The way she gets around while preggers, I doubt she's noticed it yet."
"How long have you been married, now?" asked Nico da Lozzo.
"Two and a half years," the proud husband declared.
"Two years, and four children," said Nico, clucking his tongue derisively. "Blessed with fertility! A girl, then twin boys."
"This next child will be another girl if the wisdom of nurses means anything."
"That might be a record. Unless you had a head start?"
Petruchio roared with laughter. "A late one! Ask cousin Ferdinando, or any of my servants. My wife took some particular wooing before she yielded to my charms."
At the sound of his name, Petruchio's cousin turned. His eyes fixed at once upon Antonia. She stared defiantly back, daring him to mention the state of her clothes. But instead he answered his cousin. "They fought like cats in a sack. Maybe passionate love requires a little bite back."
Some men traced his gaze to Antonia and chuckled. Antonia drew herself up and said, "I always suspected you were a backbiter, signore."
Ferdinando opened his mouth, stopped, then bowed. "I cannot spare the time to spar with you, lady. There'll be nothing left for the Paduans." He was booed.
"But you're a Paduan sympathizer, I thought."
"Still with that?" Ferdinando cocked his head. "I think every man here would cheer Padua on against Florence or Venice. A shame for you, but you can't help where you're born."
"Any more than you can help being a —" But Petruchio cut her off with a tut-tut. She curtsied to him, made a face to Ferdinando, then turned back to Capulletto, who was receiving orders from the general.
"...with the drought, there's not enough food here. I want you and Bonaventura to take some of the men and hole up at Illasi tomorrow. Nico will do the same, heading for Badia."
Capulletto was anxious to begin his hunt for Gianozza. "Is that all?"
Uguccione frowned. "Shame no one taught you manners, whelp. No, that isn't all. Take some hounds and some squires with you. Make it seem innocuous, like you're a hunting party."
"A very well-armed hunting party," quipped Nico da Lozzo.
"One hell of a doe," grinned Bonaventura.
Ferdinando was trying to catch Antonia's eye — he must have come up with a new retort. Normally she would have liked nothing better than to make mincemeat of him. But Capulletto was preparing to ride out. She hurried to Lord Montecchio side and tugged at his sleeve. The Lord of Montecchio looked down at her. "Antonia, my dear? What is it?"
It took remarkably few words to convey the problem. The lord of the castle's eyes opened in comprehension just as Capulletto said, "I'd be delighted to lead a troop. Now, if you'll pardon me, I've got an urgent errand." He yanked on his reins and mounted.
&nbs
p; "Just a moment!" cried Lord Montecchio. Too late. Capulletto was touching his spurs to the horse's flanks. He shouted, "Clear a path!"
Antonia waved her hands. "Wait! Antony, wait!"
Capulletto suddenly checked. For a moment Antonia thought he'd heard her. But his eyes were fixed on the main gateway. Emerging from its shadow were Gianozza and Mariotto. Both on one horse, she was seated across his lap as they trotted forward into the courtyard. His doublet was unlaced, and her head was uncovered, hair was loose about her shoulders. She clung to him like a nymph to the prow of a ship.
Then the lovers saw him. Montecchio's horse came to a halt as its rider gazed at his former best friend. "Antony."
Capulletto was entirely still. "Mari."
Come on, Antonia's mind cried out. Put it behind you. Mari, say something, make it easier on him!
"Mari!" cried Aurelia from a window. "Mariotto, is that you? You look like a Frenchman!" She bolted from the window and came tearing out, the rest of the household following. Amid the greetings Mariotto allowed his gaze to drop to where his father stood, waiting. Ignoring Antony, Mari set his wife gently on the ground, dismounted, and pushed past the servants to kneel at his father's feet.
Gargano Montecchio spoke stiffly. "The Scaliger has spoken highly of your service abroad."
"I regret that I was unable to do more," was Mari's neutral reply.
A moment passed, then Gargano reached out a hand. "Welcome home. We have all missed you." After their embrace, Gargano took his son by the shoulders and turned him to face Capulletto. "Now, greet your friend."
Capulletto had not dismounted, so Mariotto walked to stand next to his horse. "Antony. It's good to see you."
Through a rigid jaw Antony said, "Montecchio."
Mariotto's back stiffened, but he pressed on. "Please accept the welcome of this house, old friend." He reached up a hand. Antony looked at it then deliberately dismounted without the offered aid. They shook hands stiffly, then Antony stepped back, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
Antonia heard a snort from nearby. Looking over her shoulder she saw Antony's brother Luigi, a wide grin plastered across his face. He was enjoying his little brother's misery.