The Carnelian Tyranny: Savino’s Revenge

by Cheryl Koevoet

  Gaspar droned on in a dull monotone, causing the ceremony to drag on. Finally he turned toward Cozimo and held out the crown, but the old man refused to accept it. Whispers flew around the hall as Cozimo stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his jaw set in defiance. Gaspar angrily pushed the crown into his chest, but still Cozimo refused.

  Without warning, Savino stepped forward, ripping the crown from Gaspar’s hands and placing it on his head amongst an explosion of horrified gasps from the guests.

  When the music began once again and Savino sat down on the golden throne of Carnelia, Helena and Cinzia dotted their eyes. Gaspar stood before him, handing him a long, silver scepter and a cobalt crystal ball. Savino lifted his chin, an expression of triumph written across his face.

  Marisa wiped away the hot tears that streamed down her cheeks, bowing her head in defeat. It seemed like a bad dream. The only thing that brought her comfort was the fact that she and her family members would be getting out of there soon. She needed to leave before the guests trickled outside.

  Slipping down several flights of the stairs, she finally came to the servants’ back steps. The route down to long corridor past the cellars was all too familiar now, and she was able to reach the far end of the stables within just a couple of minutes. She rushed over to Siena, slipping her arms around the horse’s neck.

  “Hey, girl.” She stroked Siena’s glossy mane, pressing her dampened cheek against the horse’s velvety fur. “You’ve been cooped up here for far too long, it just isn’t fair.”

  The mare blinked softly as if agreeing with her.

  After waiting for more than half an hour, at last Marisa heard Talvan’s booming voice outside the stables. She peeked out and saw the others hurrying ahead of him.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d show up!”

  “We had a difficult time slipping away,” Helena replied. “There were so many questions about why Savino was being crowned instead of you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I said that all would be explained at the banquet.”

  “You mean the one we’re skipping?”

  “They shall not even notice that we are missing for at least another half hour or so,” Cinzia assured her.

  “That doesn’t give us much time,” Alessio voiced loudly.

  “Quickly, everyone! Get into the carriage,” Talvan urged, handing Marisa the basket that contained Jackson. “I shall hitch up the horses.” He slid the stall door open and walked the horses out.

  “Tino, if you can climb into that space under the seat, I think Arrie will fit in the other,” Marisa said, opening the storage spaces under the plush velvet seats. “I hope you’ll both fit.”

  “But it is filled with coverlets,” Arrie said.

  “Here, give them to me.” She took the woolen blankets from him and placed them on a crate next to the stall. As Helena, Cinzia and Alessio all piled into the carriage, they quickly realized that they weren’t all going to fit.

  “I guess I ride up front with Eman,” Alessio said, climbing up next to the shepherd sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat.

  “Wait a minute—where’s Matilda?” Marisa asked, glancing around. “We need her to pull this whole thing off!”

  Just then, she raced into the stables, her faced flushed and breathing heavily. “Sorry—I am late. I was stopped by some of Savino’s old friends.”

  “Mattie, hurry—get in.” She spun around. “Wait a minute! Where’s Cozimo? We can’t leave without him!”

  Cinzia’s expression was grim. “Cozimo was taken away right after the ceremony, and I fear that they have locked him in the dungeon. I heard the guard saying something about his execution.”

  “Execution!” Marisa gulped down a sob. “We have to get him out!” Searching the small circle of sympathetic faces, it was obvious that there wasn’t anything she could do for Cozimo until she’d gotten the others safely out of the citadel. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and squeezed in next to Matilda.

  “Move out!” Talvan shouted at Eman. “We must leave now with some of the other carriages that are departing.”

  Eman cracked the whip and the carriage lunged forward with a start. He handled the reins, steering the horses out of the stables and down the sloping courtyard toward the tunnel under the rampart wall.

  When they lined up behind the other carriages, stopping just inside the darkened tunnel, Marisa felt an overwhelming need to pray. She bowed her head, whispering softly under her breath. Cinzia took her hand, closing her eyes and praying as well.

  Talvan walked alongside the carriage, and as it passed under the portcullis of the outer wall, he shouted up at the guards stationed on the rampart. “Attention! Salute Her Royal Highness Matilda da Rocha and Her Highnesses’ royal guests.”

  The carriage occupants plastered expressions of boredom on their faces, masking the anxiety that raged underneath. Marisa peered out the window at the twenty guards who stood at attention, saluting as the carriage pulled away. She smiled to herself, satisfied that the plan seemed to be working. Her smile quickly faded as she beheld a horrible sight that was enough to make her blood run cold.

  Lining the citadel walls were rows upon rows of ghastly-looking human heads that had been stuck onto tall wooden poles. Their bluish-colored faces were scrunched up in agony, their mouths gaping in horror. Unseeing eyes bulged out in a morbid state, permanently staring in expressions of anguish.

  “No!” she cried. “These are the men that marched on Abbadon! Why are their heads stuck onto poles?” Cinzia and Matilda remained silent, cringing at the gruesome sight.

  “Savino,” Helena whispered finally.

  Everyone fell silent as the carriage continued down the street past Celino’s house. It turned the corner and double-backed down a side street before coming to a stop in the cobblestone alleyway.

  Without a word, they climbed down and entered the house through a side door, making sure not to be spotted by Savino’s guards. Matilda remained in the carriage, waving a somber farewell as Talvan climbed up into the driver’s seat. He turned the horses around and started back toward the castle.

  As soon as they were inside, Marisa led everyone through the house, showing them the secret staircase behind the kitchen pantry. After a short discussion, they decided to have one person standing guard at all times, just in case any warriors showed up at the house. Helena and Cinzia hastened into the kitchen, setting some water to boil for tea.

  Minutes later, they brought it into the library where they discussed what they had seen. “I just can’t get that horrible sight out of my head,” Marisa whispered. “Those were people we knew.”

  “The face of evil is never pretty,” Eman agreed.

  She slipped her cloak over her shoulders. “I should be getting back up to the castle. I need to find Cozimo.”

  “No, Your Highness,” Arrie said. His voice was gentle but firm. “As future queen of this country, we cannot have you running back into harm’s way.”

  There was a moment of silence before he finally turned to his father. “Well, do not just sit there—tell her!”

  “Now come on, Risa, you know he’s right,” Alessio said. “We can’t have our Supreme Ruler doing our dirty work. Now let’s all just sit down and come up with a plan.”

  “But I can’t just sit here and wait for more heads to roll! It was hard enough standing by and doing nothing while that madman took my crown!”

  “Your Highness,” Tino suggested, “in my opinion, the wisest course of action would be to wait for King Bertoldo to arrive with his army. We shall be safe hiding out here until then.”

  “Tino, I have the amulet. Nobody can see me,” she said. “We have to find out what Savino is planning.”

  “Perhaps we should wait for Darian to return,” Helena suggested, pouring a cup of tea. “He will know what to do.”

  The room became silent. She looked up at the others and stopped pouring when she saw thei
r faces.

  “What is it?”

  Alessio touched her shoulder, coaxing her to sit. “Your Highness, I deeply regret to inform you that, unfortunately, your son didn’t make it,” he whispered.

  “What do you mean he did not make it?” Helena demanded, her voice shaky. “My son always returns from battle!”

  He shook his head. “Not this time, I’m afraid. We know that His Highness’ men were ambushed by Savino’s warriors on the road to Abbadon. Not one of them has returned.”

  “And Darian?”

  Alessio shook his head sadly. Helena broke down with emotion, weeping pitifully into a handkerchief as everyone watched, helpless.

  Struck by compassion for the woman that should have been her mother-in-law, Marisa moved over next to Helena, wrapping her arms around the woman who had just lost her only son. Her heart ached as she thought about the special human being they had all lost. There would never be another man like Darian Fiore.

  “I shall take her to lie down for a while,” Cinzia offered.

  Marisa gazed at her uncle, exhausted. “Any ideas?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I shall take first watch,” Tino announced. He moved into the front room and stood near the window, keeping a lookout over the dark city streets.

  “What are we to do?” Arrie asked in a hushed voice.

  Alessio shook his head, staring at the floor. “This is one of the few times in my life when I just don’t have an answer.”

  “What about King Bertoldo?”

  “They should be reaching Terracina in a few days, but it’ll take some time for him to muster the army and get ’em all here. But, even then, I just don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

  “I didn’t see him at the coronation.”

  “Neither did I. And I don’t know why.”

  “What’ll happen to Talvan and Matilda?” she asked.

  “Talvan took an enormous risk in getting us out. He may end up paying for it. Same goes for Matilda.”

  “So what’s our next move? Get everyone on a ship to Terracina?”

  “If I may be so bold, Your Highness,” Eman began, “Count da Rocha is no simpleton. Once our absence is noted, all eyes will be focused on routes out of the city. He would not expect us to stay here right under his nose. I believe we are the safest right where we are.”

  “But how could he do something like that?” Marisa asked, unable to delete the grisly images burned onto her retina. “I hate that man!”

  He shrugged. “Like I said before, this is a different world and he is rotten to the core. The sign posted to the left of the gate stated that a similar fate awaited all traitors of King Savino.”

  “You didn’t happen to see…?”

  “No. But we can only pray his head didn’t end up there.”

  “It’s too horrible to even think about.” She buried her face in her hands, trying not to think about what had become of his body.

  Eman put an arm around her sagging frame, stroking his beard in silent thought. “You must look to Garon. He shall carry you through the dark days ahead.”

  “But where is Garon in all this, Eman?” she asked pointedly. “Where was he when Darian was killed along with all those other innocent men?”

  “Nothing escapes His notice, dearest. And although He is loving, merciful and compassionate, everything happens for a reason even though we may not ever know why. But all is not lost. Have faith.”

  Marisa didn’t respond.

  “Do not lose hope, Your Highness. There is always hope.”

  She stood up. “Not anymore. I have nothing left and all of my hope is gone. I just can’t see the silver lining on this one.”

  “Ah, but the very definition of faith is to believe in something you cannot see,” he replied. “You must never abandon faith and hope for they are the placeholders where, in time, miracles can grow.”

  She turned to have her final word. “With all due respect, Eman, you didn’t just lose the love of your life. It would take a million miles of space to grow the sort of miracle I want. Now, if you would all excuse me.”

  She left the library and headed down to the cellar. No matter how much faith or hope she could ever muster, it wouldn’t change the fact that Darian would still be dead in the morning.

  CHAPTER 27

  CARNAGE

  The men rode on, staring numbly into the distance and imagining what they would find once they reached the city. Word had undoubtedly traveled back home that their regiment had been slaughtered by Savino’s warriors. They each hated to think what their wives and families had gone through, assuming that their men had been killed in battle.

  Darian announced that they would be stopping at the cave where he’d spent the night alone after the ambush. It was the perfect shelter from the freezing night air. Once they were out of the mountains and back down in the valley again, the temperatures rose and the snow began to melt.

  The sun was only an hour or so from disappearing behind the hills when the mood turned slightly upbeat. If they managed to cover the distance without any more delays, they would reach Andrésis by the following evening and, on the day after that, they would be home. The scenery around them had once again changed into an old forest that seemed empty of life in its winter state.

  Noticing that the conversations had long since died away, he dropped his horse back a ways and rode next to Loris. “Tell me, squire, do you have a special girl?”

  The awkward teen avoided his gaze, flushing bright red as he stroke his horse’s mane. “Uh, not really, Your Highness. Not much time for that sort of thing, you know.”

  “At your age, what else is their time for?” Lord Aurelio asked dryly. The other men riding behind him roared in laughter.

  “N-n-not that I am not interested in them,” Loris stuttered. “I just have not met any yet. Uh, that is to say, I have not met the right one.”

  Darian grinned knowingly. “Just give it a few years—you will. One day you shall find that special girl you have been waiting for and then, boom! Everything shall fall into place.” He swept his hand broadly across the heavens as if gazing into the young lad’s future.

  “I do not think that will happen to me, Sire.”

  “That is precisely what I used to think, squire,” he said, winking at Adamo and Ilario. “But, you see, you do not even have a say in it. It might not happen right away, but, all at once, you shall look at her and, in that moment, lightning shall strike in your heart.”

  “Lightning?” Loris eyed him with skepticism.

  “Thunderbolts. And once it has struck, there is no going back. You cannot fight it and there is no escaping it. You cannot live without her and everything in your being just wants to protect her.”

  Loris looked around at the other knights, searching for confirmation that he was telling the truth. The men merely exchanged knowing glances, chuckling at his naïveté.

  “Consider this fair warning,” Darian said with a smirk.

  They rode off down the road until at last the familiar mountain loomed just ahead in the distance. The sun had long set over the horizon and the sky had turned a clear, inky blue. The hoot of a single snow owl resonated through the woods as Darian lit a torch and held it in front of him, guiding them down the last mile or so of road.

  Rounding the final turn, the darkened mouth of the cave slowly came into view. When they reached it, the men dismounted and removed their gear from the saddles. Ilario and Adamo took the horses down to the river to drink while Aurelio gathered up some wood and got a fire going. The ceiling of the cave was high with cracks and crevices leading up and out, creating the perfect ventilation for their fire. The smoky scent of the burning sticks filled the cave, soothing the men as they rolled out their mats to sleep for the night.

  After they had eaten a warm supper from the leftovers they had taken from Abbadon, everyone sat around the fire, slowly sipping mugs of ale and settling in for the night.

  Darian stepped away from the fire and
ventured outside of the cave. The trees were cloaked in shadow and somewhere in the distance, he heard the familiar sound of rushing water and the forlorn hoot of a lonely snow owl.

  Staring up at the moon shining through the clouds above him, he sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “Good night, princess,” he whispered softly.

  The next morning, the men stirred, waking up one by one. Baron Porfiro rose from his mat and rubbed his eyes, looking for Prince Darian. When he didn’t see him, he walked outside the cave and scanned the woods that had been covered with a fresh layer of snow sometime during the night.

  He spotted a set of tracks that led down into the forest, but, when he followed it to its end, there was no sign of the prince anywhere. Deciding to wait a little longer before setting out to go look for him, Porfiro returned to the cave where Count Vittore and Adamo had already built a fire and were putting some snow in a metal pot to boil for tea. He felt Loris’ eyes on him, watching the old soldier with curiosity.

  “Where is His Highness this morning?” Loris asked.

  “Probably out walking, as is his custom,” Porfiro answered, sitting down next to him. “So, squire, tell me of your family,” he said in a gravelly voice. “What sort of work does your father do?”

  “Well, my father passed on a few years ago. I have not seen my mother in over a year.”

  “Did you run away?’

  “No, Sire. My home is in Drychen Provence, in a small village. My mother sent me to Abbadon a year ago in the hope that I could find work there. We are poor.”

  “She must have been desperate, sending a young boy like yourself on such a long journey alone.”

  “Aye. My father worked for a magister for several years. When he died two years ago of the coughing sickness, we had nothing left. I went into the village each day to beg, but when it was not enough for us to live from, she sent me to Abbadon.”