Tributary (River of Time 3.2 Novella)

by Bergren, Lisa T.

  “I thought you were taking precautions,” Evangelia said, cold fury building in her pretty face.

  Alessandra’s mouth dropped open, utterly confused.

  Gabriella’s hands were on either side of her face now, massaging her temples. “I was…but there was one night…” She began to blush furiously.

  “Gabi!” Evangelia rubbed her face in agony. “You were going to wait…Just a few more years…”

  “I know, Lia!” Gabriella bit out, now turning angry eyes upon her sister. “You think I forgot?” She stepped forward again, leaving Alessandra behind, pushing past Lia.

  A few years…What were they talking about? Why would they wish to wait?

  They both seemed to remember her presence again, as one. Gabriella looked down, took a deep breath, and then turned toward Alessandra, taking her hands in hers, while sending a reassuring smile over her shoulder to the guard. “I know we’ve only just met,” she whispered. “But please. I beg you. Speak of this to no one.”

  Numbly, Alessandra nodded. Never in her life had she been with women who did anything but celebrate new life, budding within. Did not every married woman pray for babies? Certainly every woman she knew. Again, mayhap it was an oddity of the noble class…or the Sienese.

  “I think it best if we get you back to your quarters,” Gabriella said, “and I to mine.”

  Lord Rodolfo Greco entered the library after a quick knock and Alessandra guiltily shut the lambskin-bound book and slid it back on the shelf. His dark eyes, lined with thick lashes, went from her hand on the shelf to her and back again. “They are there for us all to read,” he said, pulling a cloth from his waistband and wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned a chair backward, and straddling it, sat down. “Do you read, signorina?”

  “Nay,” she said, aware that he was looking her over now, undoubtedly admiring her in her borrowed finery. “Evangelia and Gabriella…they spoke of teaching me, but there’s not time.”

  “You could always return for lessons,” he said. Was that the hint of a smile in his eyes?

  “I hardly think that would be advisable.”

  “You’re likely right. Please,” he said, giving way to a crooked smile, gesturing to the settee. “Sit, if you’d like.”

  It was more a command then a request, and Alessandra did as he asked, fighting the urge to chew her lip. It would have been far easier, loathing him, if the man weren’t so dreadfully handsome. And…winsome. There was something about him that drew her. A quiet ache, deep within him, she longed to relieve. An itch she longed to soothe. Was it being here, being part of the Sienese, when he was…not?

  “You must feel better today, signorina. You look…well.”

  She folded her hands in her lap in an effort to keep from wringing them, every nerve on edge with him so close. It was different, today. His attentions. More as a man with his eyes on a maid, rather than a guardian keeping watch. “I am better. A slight ache, behind the eyes, an ongoing weariness, but much improved over the last several days.”

  He studied her a moment longer, then rose, went to the desk, drew out a piece of parchment, uncorked the ink, and dipped in a quill. Swiftly, he wrote for a couple of minutes, reached in a cup for a pinch of powder, and sprinkled it across the parchment. He gave Alessandra a long look, leaned down and blew, a cloud of powder rising and then disappearing in the air. “Come,” he said, gesturing for her to approach.

  She did as he asked and sat in the chair before the desk, directly in front of him. A shiver ran down her neck and spine as he leaned over to point at the parchment. “If you wish to learn to read, these are the primary building blocks,” he said, his warm breath washing over her bare shoulder, almost as if a kiss. “’Tis the letters of Dante’s Tuscan, a language we should all learn to read and write, whether we be Fiorentini or Sienese.”

  She forced her eyes to the parchment, from one crisp letter to the next. His script was lovely, precise, even if she didn’t quite comprehend what she saw.

  “These are a few words,” he said, pointing to the bottom of the sheet. “The letters form words, which become sentences, which become paragraphs, which become pages of script, which eventually become books. ‘Tis best to take reading one step at a time. First the letters. Then some words. But I wish to ask…Do you know what this word says?” He leaned closer to her again, making every hair on her neck stand on end. He smelled of leather and clean sweat and juniper, and she fought the urge to turn toward him. To look at him.

  She forced her eyes to his finger and to where he pointed.

  “’Tis my name.”

  He cocked his head to look at her, terribly close, but she did not meet his gaze. “’Tis indeed,” he said with some surprise. “Do you recognize any other words?”

  “Nay. My grandfather wrote my name for me, once. That is why I recognize it.”

  “Ahh,” he said in appreciation. “A learned man of Firenze. What was your grandfather’s name?”

  “Singore Marco Donatelli. He was a merchant of silver.”

  Rodolfo half-laughed and he walked around the desk to face her. He smiled, and her stomach tightened, because when he smiled…when he truly smiled, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “I knew your grandfather! I met him!” He thrust out a hand in excitement and then let it rest on his hip. “My father took me to his shop, once. It was a block from the Duomo, yes? We went there to purchase a gift for my mother.”

  Alessandra found herself smiling up at him and quickly looked to the parchment again, as if intent on studying her letters. Because she didn’t want to notice the sparkle she’d just glimpsed in his dark eyes. The curl of his ebony hair at the nape of his neck. The way his broad shoulders came down to a narrow waist. She didn’t want to linger in this new-found camaraderie, between them. The draw. The pull.

  She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Because she was leaving this enemy fortress. Just as soon as possible.

  ***

  ~EVANGELIA~

  I stood by the window, looking out to the southern wall, tears streaming down my face as I listened to my sister sob.

  Gabi wept as if the child was already dead in her arms.

  Our parents had made it very clear. With the plague upon us in 1348, two years from now, the fewer we had to look after, the better off we’d all be. We already loved every person in the castle and beyond. But children? A little niece or nephew? A toddler when the plague truly began savaging Italy’s population, city by city, stealing one in three lives?

  Even the idea of it struck terror in our hearts.

  Their plan had been to wait until after the plague eased, to try for children. But birth control in medieval times was hardly what it was in the twenty-first century. “It’s an art, of sorts,” our mother had said, disappearing behind closed doors to explain what she could to Gabi.

  Too bad I’m the artist of the family, I mused, numbly counting limestone blocks to try and get my mind off of it.

  After a while, her awful sobs eased, and I went to sit beside her on the bed. I reached out a hand and laid it on her back.

  “Oh, Lia, what am I going to do?”

  She turned over, her eyes red and puffy, one arm resting against her forehead as she looked to her bedroom ceiling, frescoed with stars. I stared at her, momentarily tongue-tied. You have to understand. My sis never cried. I’d seen it maybe ten times in my life, as much as this. She was a suck-it-up-and-deal kind of girl. I was the crier in the family.

  “Well, Gabi,” I said, trying to ease the moment, “once you stop vomiting your guts out, you’re going to get hugely fat.”

  She giggled and wiped her eyes.

  My voice dropped. “And in nine months, you’re going to have the prettiest baby we’ve ever seen.”

  Her chocolate brown eyes shifted to me, welling again with tears. “It’s crazy, so crazy, Lia. I just figured out I was pregnant. And I love it already. It’s…a part of me.”

  “I know,” I said, reaching out to stroke her hair. “A
little niece or nephew.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t part of the plan, but you and I know that life is kinda hard to plan, right? All kinds of things we couldn’t quite imagine have happened, even before this baby.”

  She and I shared a meaningful look. We hadn’t been back to the tomb and the time portal that had brought us here in more than a year. “If things get bad…if the worst happens…” I said. “Gabs, we could take the baby back. Heal it. And return.”

  “And leave Mom and Dad here? Marcello?” Her eyebrows lifted. “Luca?”

  “Let’s deal with it when we have to. Right now we’re just borrowing trouble, as Dad would say. And you…you have all kinds of fun ahead of you.”

  “Like what?” she asked, shoving herself up to a sitting position. “Having a baby without an epidural? Varicose veins? Stretch marks?” She frowned and massaged her head. “What am I gonna do about prenatal vitamins? To say nothing of prenatal care…Do you know how many things can go wrong in a pregnancy?”

  I laughed, under my breath. “There’s the hypochondriac I know and love.” I covered her knee with my hand. “It’s going to be okay, Gabs. Thousands upon thousands of women had babies in this era. And you’re going to be one of them. We have Mom with us.”

  “Just don’t tell her yet. Or Dad. I have to figure out the right way to tell them.”

  “Okay. But Mom will find the best midwives to bring in; together they’ll handle anything you and this baby throw her way.” Please Lord, let it be true. A servant had died in labor just last year. Another had died right after giving birth because Mom and Gabi couldn’t stop her bleeding. I shoved away a shiver, not wanting my sis to see it.

  Gabi leaned back against the headboard, lost in thought.

  And then Marcello was there, striding in, his face awash in worry. “Gabriella,” he said, coming directly to the bed, on her other side. “I was told that you have taken ill.”

  “Nay, Marcello. I am well.”

  “But Dario said you were sick, outside the kitchens…” He took her hands in his and I moved to go, to give them their privacy.

  “Nay, Lia, stay,” she said, and I reluctantly sank back to the foot of the bed. “Trying to keep it a secret is futile.” She looked back to her husband. “Marcello, I am not ill. I am going to have a baby.”

  He stilled, his eyes shifting back and forth across her face to see if she was joking. “Truly?”

  She nodded, her eyes so earnest and hopeful, it hurt to look at her. “Truly.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he gathered her into his arms, and then tenderly kissed her forehead, her cheeks. “It is grand news, Gabriella,” he said, still holding her close. “Grand. I know it is not what we intended, not now, before…but we must trust in our Lord. All will be well.”

  “I hope so,” she said, her voice cracking again.

  “A baby,” he said in wonder. “A baby! Baby Forelli.”

  Tears were streaming down Gabi’s face again, fear alive in her eyes.

  I slipped off the bed then, and out of the room. Together, I knew my sister and brother-in-law would find their way through this. But I was anxious about the challenges it would bring, too.

  Because things that affected the lord and lady of Castello Forelli, affected us all.

  ***

  After looking in on Alessandra, dozing away under Mom’s watchful eye, I accepted Luca’s offer of going to the new construction site and for a short ride beyond. I was eager to avoid any prolonged conversation with either of my parents; ever since we’d returned here together, we shared a bond we’d never had before. It wouldn’t take long for them to detect that something was up with me…and I’d crack.

  Despite my pledge to Gabs not to tell our parents about her pregnancy, there was no way I could deal with Mom or Dad peppering me with questions. I’d never been able to stand long, against them; I was always the first to cave. But now, here…I was pretty much worthless. We’d been through too much to be anything but totally honest with one another. I hoped Gabi would tell them soon.

  Luca gave Dario strict instructions to follow Alessandra anywhere she went—and to never allow her outside the castle walls—then offered his arm and I laid mine over it, letting my fingers rest on his chapped hand, as we walked to the stables. For weeks now, the men had been at work, clearing and plowing new fields, and building the foundation for an expansion of the castle wall that would increase the size by half, and include a vast, new warehouse, as well as apartments and latrines for more people. No one had been told why. They all assumed it was merely strategic. What nobleman so near the border would not wish to be able to better survive a sustained attack?

  Only Luca and Marcello had guessed what was ahead of them, with the plague. But my parents had insisted they keep it to themselves. Every move we made here, in this era, was undoubtedly changing the future. We’d seen it ourselves, in our visits back and forth. When we left at first, Castello Forelli was little more than rubble. When we returned the second time, it was in amazing condition, a tourist site. I didn’t remember this extension being there—but maybe it just hadn’t been in view when we swung through. All we knew was that our presence in the past had impacted the future. And Dad constantly preached that we had to limit that.

  But even he couldn’t avoid the desire to try and spare us all through what was to come—and in this time and place, the threats came, one after another, from a variety of sources. Marcello’s intent was to have enough room, and enough supplies, to keep us all for a year. Mom and Dad reasoned that if we could remain inside, and keep the world out, essentially living in quarantine, that we had a good chance of riding it out. A good chance…

  “Ready?” Luca asked softly.

  He looked down at me and I shyly looked back up into his eyes. I nodded, and he placed his hands on my hips. But he didn’t lift me up and into the side saddle as expected. “Luca…” I said with a grin. “This is hardly the place.”

  He smiled back at me, and lifted a teasing brow. “Nay. It is not.” He took my hand and pulled me into a horse stall, shielding us from two knights chatting at the stable entrance. Then he caressed my face and bent to kiss me, softly at first, then deeper, pulling me close. I gave in willingly, as glad to be in his arms as he was to have me. There, I felt guarded, safe, comforted, even as my heart was threatened with news of Gabi’s pregnancy. I didn’t want to think about her. I wanted to think about him. The spicy, clean smell of him. All leather and crisp linen and juniper soap…

  He closed his eyes and groaned, pulling slightly away, after we’d kissed for a long minute. “It’s been far too long since I was able to kiss you, Evangelia.”

  I laughed under my breath. “A day? Two?”

  “Any day without a kiss from you, beloved, seems as weeks.” He leaned in for one last kiss, sighed and then led me back to the horse, quickly lifting me to my saddle and settling my feet in the stirrups. He lingered, staring at my slippers.

  “What? Is there a hole in one of them?”

  “Nay,” he said, pulling one foot back out of the stirrup and lifting it, baring my ankle. “Even your feet are lovely.” Then, making sure he was unseen, he bent to brush aside the hem of my skirt and kiss the top of one foot in an act of reverence. As if I were a princess and he my loyal subject. “Luca!” I whispered. If he were seen doing that… Such silliness from the captain of the Forelli guard! The men would tease him forever about it, and worse, me too.

  He tossed me an impish smile, gave my foot one last, longing touch, and then mounted his horse. I shook my head and took a deep breath, relieved we were on the move, and had been undiscovered.

  The knights had left from the front entrance. A young squire, perhaps eight years old, opened the doors for us, his expression doleful as we passed. He was all about seeing to his task as instructed. Every squire was assigned to a knight, who saw to his training, so that he might someday become a knight himself. Many poor families offered their children as we passed, holding them up, their cries despe
rate. Because, while they had to give up their kids, they knew their children would receive a bed, care, food, and a future within the castello walls. In the year that we’d been here, eight had come to live with us, and they followed my dad around like puppies, recognizing that he loved children, and wasn’t as rough on them as the knights.

  Guards opened the heavy front gates and we rode through, an older teen at the top shouting, “Mind yourself with the lady, Captain!”

  “Watch yourself, whelp,” Luca called back with a grin, “or I’ll assign you latrine duty.”

  “Lady? What lady?” called back the boy, without hesitation. “All I saw was my cap’n, heading out!”

  Luca laughed, the sound of it joyful and welcome to my ears. I loved how the guy smiled and laughed over everything, even in the face of severe difficulty. I mean he could be serious when he needed to, but he often reminded me not to be too serious.

  “Latrine duty is a most effective threat,” he said.

  “For good reason,” I said with a smile.

  It hadn’t taken Mom long, with all the people who now lived at the castello, to convince Marcello to dig a rudimentary sewage system. We still used chamber pots in the night, if necessary, but now, toward the back of the castle, where the hill fell away, were eight latrines, as well as a way to dispose water, straight from the kitchen, without hauling it out in buckets.

  The latrines were like a castle’s version of outhouses. I groaned at the memory of how cold those stone seats were in winter. They were bad enough as the weather warmed. But at least it was something. Dad had worried about the long-term repercussions of one of the Nine introducing something like it in this time period, but Mom was pretty clear—it was a non-negotiable. Her rationale was that the Romans had something like it in empirical days—why couldn’t we? We were not introducing something new, we were resurrecting something that had already been. At least that was her reasoning, which Dad had debated endlessly as faulty logic.

  But Mom had won.