The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance Page 13

  “Shush.” He pushed the sliding screen aside, his next whispers barely audible. “Too many people heard Dideco’s commands. You must go through with the walk or risk being stoned by the villagers. They do not take kindly to fornication.”

  The walk? Fornication? Her heart raced. He wasn’t going to save her. “You don’t understand. Dideco is sending me back to Vignanello. Pierpaolo will kill me.”

  Silence ensued for some time. Then he spoke so loudly, that half the church could hear. “And do you have something to confess?”

  Face heated, she answered coldly. “The only sin was his, for throwing me over his shoulder when I said no.” She left out the part where they’d made love in the archway, before their vows.

  The partition between them slid open, his voice just above a whisper. “The marriage was consummated last night?”

  “Si. But never again. I swear I’ll use my small dowry to enter the religious life.”

  He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, looking much like her beloved Bernardo. “It’s too late. In the eyes of God, you are truly married.”

  “I know, Father. Perhaps I did truly sin, but not on purpose. My beauty is a curse and a burden. Bernardo took one look at me and has wanted me ever since.” She put her face into her clasped hands then looked up, ever hopeful. “Am I to be forgiven?”

  “If it is God’s will.” His brows creased, mouth pursed, and he closed his eyes in prayer.

  When his murmurings stopped, she asked, “What’s going to happen?”

  His pitying look said much. “Be brave, Aurelia, and God will elevate you above the rest.”

  “Platitudes Father, when I need answers? What is this walk?” She peeked out the door where Antonio still stood. Surely she could outrun him. But then what? She had no home, no benefactor.

  “We’ll find a way to rescue you on the way to Vignanello. Listen for the sound of a cardinal. Now enough talk. Pray loud enough for all within the walls of the church to hear.”

  She all but shouted several ‘Hail Mary’s’ with him, finding no strength or comfort in the outward display.

  Her faith abandoned her when Antonio knocked on the confessional doors. “I apologize, father, but it’s time.”

  “Time for what?” She searched their faces.

  Both men shook their heads with sympathetic faces.

  Antonio clamped onto the same spot as before and pain shot up her arm. “Are you going to fight me, Aurelia, or go peaceably?”

  She tried to squirm out of his grip. “Ow! Not so hard. Go where?”

  His hold lessened. “Back to the top of the hill. The piazza.”

  “Then what?”

  He shook his head and lowered his gaze.

  Whatever they were hiding, it had to be very, very bad. She bit down on her lip and trekked up the wet bricks. The rain had stopped, but thick gray clouds hid the top of the parapets.

  Some well-dressed nobles followed from the church, along with some of the local merchants, all climbing the hill behind her. They circled around her, in the top piazza.

  Dideco, face grim and body tensed, watched from the grand hall’s arched doorway. His wife, Lucella, and her grandmother, stood next to him.

  Men from the garrison, shouted encouragement to her from outside the walls of the keep. “Be brave, Aurelia.”

  Visibly shaken, Antonio removed his tight grip from her upper arm and wiped the sweat from his brow. His eyes met Dideco’s.

  “I’m sorry.” He grabbed her stolen shirt at the back of the neck and pulled hard, choking her. Then the fabric ripped and the seams gave way.

  Mio Dio. He meant to strip her? She shot her arms to cover up her breasts but he grabbed both of her wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled the front of her garment down to her waist and it fell away.

  The nobles in the crowd cheered, the merchants less so, and the men from the garrison actually shouted for Antonio to stop.

  Dideco rolled a finger in the air for him to continue.

  When it looked as if Antonio might take off her chemise as well, she found a mite of courage and hissed, “Bernardo will kill you.”

  He paused, conflict clear in his eyes.

  Lucella’s grandmother, however, marched down the steps of the great hall. Dressed in layers of embroidered silk, she swished across the piazza and stopped in front of them.

  She cleared her throat, spewed wet spittle into Aurelia’s face and shouted, “She poisoned us.”

  “I did not. I was not even here when it happened. I saved you.” She glared at the horrid woman and prayed the devil would stuff that righteous look up the old mule’s ass.

  “What better way to get into the young Carvajal’s good graces?” Her nasty face contorted in an even uglier sneer. Then Signora Santamaria tore open the front of the Aurelia’s chemise.

  Mortified and face burning, Aurelia shot her arms across her chest. Some in the crowd cheered but just as many others jeered at the old woman as she sauntered back into the keep, nose high in the air.

  Fulvio, somewhere deep in the crowd, called out. Then Aurelia looked up and caught a rolled-up shirt midair. Blinking back stinging tears of gratitude, she slipped it on, and tied the laces tight.

  “Quickly. Do not stop until you reach the bottom.” Antonio pushed her out of the piazza and into the street.

  Dressed in just Fulvio’s shirt, boots, and rolled up hose, she began her penance. A drizzle of rain fell as rotting fruit from every direction landed in her face, her hair, and on her body. The juices made it hard to see and the sharp points of the pits tore at her skin.

  It’s only a mile to the bottom. Surely, I can endure. Women do not die of embarrassment, nor of ripe fruit.

  She stared at her feet, not willing to let the crowd see her cry. She had sinned by wanting higher than her station and perhaps for sex in the alley, but she was a Nardini. A noble. Grand-niece of the greatest cardinal to ever live.

  Many of Bernardo’s men, including Fulvio, appeared suddenly on horseback and pushed back the angry crowd. She wanted to tell the soldiers to do nothing to ire Dideco further. But when the fruit stopped flying, all she could do is be silently grateful.

  At the butcher shop, a strange old woman covered her in a warm cloak. “Have faith. You’re almost to the bottom.”

  “Grazie, signora.” Aurelia pulled the long soft and strange material around her body.

  Then after a roll from the bakery hit her cheek, she whooshed out her breath, and stared forward. The fountain. She’d made it.

  But the relief was short lived. After taking two more steps down the hill, her heart raced and she nearly screamed at the sight. Around the corner Pierpaolo waited atop his black steed, surrounded by Nardini soldiers.

  He slapped her to her knees to the cheers of the nobles and shouted, “Take her to Vignanello. I have a wedding to attend.”

  “Do it and incur Borgia’s wrath.” She spit on the ground in front of him.

  He laughed atop his horse. “You have no idea, do you? That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Chapter 23

  Pierpaolo chuckled at his good fortune. He’d found his missing niece. As a plus, her behavior had secured him an invite to the wedding and an overnight in Soriano’s castle.

  He rode with his five hand-picked men to the top of the hill. After leaving their horses at the stables, they wandered by the empty garrison and peeked in. He’d need wait until all were drunk on wedding wine before executing his campaign.

  “Buongiorno.” Signora Santamaria greeted him at the church’s entrance wearing a wolf-like smile on her normally dour face.

  He smiled back. Inside, his noble allies dotted the crowd. One by one, he caught their eyes and nodded. Soon they would execute his well thought out revenge.

  While he waited, he estimated the worth of the church’s gold that would soon belong to him. An expensive chalice and plate rested on a white altar cloth. Above that, Christ’s crown of thorns sparkled and the Stations of the Cr
oss were inlayed with gold, as well. He’d melt it all down, sacrilege be damned, and begin to amass a new fortune for his family.

  Suddenly, a trumpet sounded, the crowd turned, and the oak door swung open wide. This had to be Lucella, weeping uncontrollably and led by Dideco. The bride’s veil didn’t hide her red blotchy face or swollen nose. For a moment, Pierpaolo felt some sympathy for the groom.

  That is until he remembered he was going to kill him. He chuckled. Then the young Carvajal entered, cursing, and fighting his chains.

  Catching his eye Bernardo shouted, “Where is Aurelia?”

  Pierpaolo grinned and shrugged as guards dragged the unwilling groom through the standing crowd and forced him upon his knees. Soriano’s armed men seemed uncomfortable as they refused to meet their captain’s gaze but did nothing to stop the proceedings.

  At the altar, the bishop whispered into his ear and the groom calmed. Hmm. What was that? Pierpaolo considered every interaction with care. All these elements would soon come into play when he took over the city.

  Wedding vows were exchanged, the body of Christ consumed, and the unhappy couple escorted out of the church. Then the guests exited and followed them into the main castle hall.

  Pierpaolo could hardly contain his excitement. He walked over to Dideco Carvajal, slapped him on the back and said, “Congratulations, my friend. A marriage made in heaven. Let’s find the wine and begin the celebrations.”

  Chapter 24

  Wrists locked in irons, Bernardo walked his fake bride up the hill. Antonio had refused to speak so he questioned her instead. “Where’s Aurelia? What happened?”

  Lucella lifted her skirts with nose high in the air and said stiffly, “Grandmother said a wife does not speak of his husband’s mistresses. If you must keep one, I’ll do my best to pretend she doesn’t exist.”

  His blood boiled at her insolent tone. “You’re my wife and will obey or I swear when I get you alone I’ll flay you within an inch of your life.”

  She flinched and paled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, dearest heart, I would. You no longer have your grandmother’s protection. She leaves within the hour. Then you’ll feel every inch of my wrath.” He’d never actually hurt a woman, but her impertinent attitude deserved a put down.

  She opened her mouth to wail but thankfully Antonio put a hand over her mouth. “Jesus, Bernardo. No more. Give up this foolishness and by God’s blood, just take her.”

  “I swear, if you harmed Aurelia, I’ll see to it you pay with your life.”

  “You’re no good to her dead. Your father has let it be known, if you don’t consummate this marriage within the hour, he’ll hang you. He’s already sent for Niccolo in Naples.”

  “My brother? You’d allow him to take my place?” He stared, incredulous. He’d always thought he held his man’s constant loyalty.

  Antonio glared and then spit upon the ground. “Will it come to that? Brother against brother? Father against son? Friend taking arms against friend? All for a woman? You go too far.”

  Bernardo held up his arms and the chains rattled. “Tell me this much. Does Aurelia still live?”

  “Si. She lives.” He shook his head back and forth, seemingly haunted for a moment.

  Bernardo sighed. He’d heard the crowds in the courtyard from the dungeon and feared the worst. His next words stuck in his throat. “What did they do to her?”

  “The walk.”

  “Bloody Christ. Was she brave?” His eyes watered as he imagined his only love forced down the hill with fruit flying and the locals cursing.

  “The bravest I’ve ever seen.” Oddly, Antonio’s tone seemed proud, not disdainful.

  “Jesu. Did they strip her naked?” His heart ached for her and guilt ate at his soul. This was entirely his fault. He never should’ve let anyone see his interest in her.

  “I took her boy’s clothing off to her chemise. Then she told me you’d kill me if I continued.” Antonio stared at the ground, shaking his head back and forth, no doubt remembering his complicity.

  “You? You did that to her?” Bernardo swung his bound fists at Antonio’s face and he went down. He jumped onto his chest, hands to his neck with murder in his mind.

  Lucella screeched for help, men came running, and it took at least three sets of arms to pull him off his so-called friend.

  As Bernardo stared panting, rage burning, the castle guard wiped the blood off his face. “I volunteered. Who else would keep her safe? I stripped her only to her chemise and—”

  “And my grandmother tore off the last of her garments,” Lucella spit out. “Bared the whore’s chest.”

  “Jesu.” Bernardo fought against his chains and stumbled to his knees. What had he done?

  Antonio pulled him up. “Then Fulvio threw her his shirt. I’ve seen women in court with more skin showing. Her legs were covered in thick hose and your friend’s silk went below her calves.”

  “But now? Where is she?”

  “Your father sent her out of town with Pierpaolo’s men. But your cousin sent Fulvio after her. He loves her almost as much as you. He’ll free her when the time is right. You must trust your friends. Trust me.”

  At the chamber door, Antonio stopped and said, “Your father said if I don’t hear her screaming, then I’m to bring you back to the dungeon.”

  “You might as well do it now as I won’t consummate this marriage. My God, man. She’s a child in both body and mind. I can’t.” And I’m already married. Lucella will be ruined.

  “Many a good man has wed younger girls.”

  Bernardo tried to look the part of someone who’s given in. “Very well. Come Lucella. We must make the best of this.”

  “What?” Her horrified look would’ve been comical had the situation been any different. “No. No. No. I want to go home. Turn around. Both of you. I’ve something to show you.”

  They did as she asked, her silk skirts rustled, then she thrust her panties into his hands. The rag wrapped in the center that should’ve been red with blood was white as snow. His mind spun at the bold treachery. Had he not met Aurelia and married her first, he might’ve actually been stuck forever with this girl.

  “You’re not in your monthlies?” In his mind, he began to formulate a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella.

  She sniffed and wiped her nose with the lace of her veil. “No. My grandmother used sheep’s blood.”

  Bernardo gave her back the garment. “Surely she knew I’d find out upon our bedding.”

  “I was supposed to sprinkle more blood inside my legs after I disrobed.” Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes and he felt a bit of sympathy. She didn’t want the marriage any more than he did.

  “There, there. We’ll have this annulled and I’ll send you home, but think. How will it fare for you in Spain if they find out you’re barren?”

  She smiled secretively. “I suspect the malady will fix itself once I’m safely within Spain’s borders.”

  Something about her tone and evil grin worried him, but he had far more serious issues to deal with. He needed to get to Aurelia.

  His father’s voice boomed down the hall and all cringed. “Antonio, is the deed done?”

  When he saw all three still standing in the hall, his face grew red. “What’s this?”

  Bernardo grabbed Lucella’s underthings and pushed them under his father’s nose. “She lied. She’s not bleeding. Never has. The girl’s still incapable of bearing an heir.”

  “I don’t give two figs. Go in there and fuck her.” He pushed them both into the room and onto the bed.

  Chained as he was, Bernardo had no chance of fighting back. “You must let me explain.”

  “Damn it, son. I can’t have the wrath of the king and queen of Spain as well as Borgia.”

  Bernardo pushed up to standing, shouting nose to nose. “You’ll have no heir. She’s barren!”

  “Better heirless than dead. I’ll see to it that mistresses are provided for you to have children. T
ake him to the dungeon until he changes his mind.”

  He turned to Antonio. “And put that little liar in her room. Post a guard at her door. If you hear her whine, beat her. It’s high time I put some order back in my own keep. Meanwhile, I have wedding guests to attend to.”

  Chapter 25

  The fountain’s water flowed from the palms of the Virgin Mary and Aurelia prayed to her. But just like the cherubs in the castle ceiling, the mother of God seemed oblivious.

  She’d just arrived in the piazza when some in the angry mob picked up stones. Aurelia cried out when one rock’s sharp edge cut deep and then more followed. One hit her temple, blood dripped down her face, and she dropped to her knees. Crouching in a fetal position like Saint Stephen, she prayed her end would come soon.

  One of Pierpaolo’s men sidled his horse close. He clamped an iron fist onto her upper arm and her body shot into the air. She landed behind him like a rag doll. Then shaking uncontrollably, she clung onto his waist.

  The strange savior rode her under the iron teeth of the portcullis while the rest of the mounted men, riding close behind, suggested acts of rape and sodomy. Finally, he cursed, flicked his reins, and galloped so far ahead she could no longer hear the awful language.

  She considered sliding off the back of his horse and making a dash across the open terrain but was probably safer with him. Her whole body stung from the multiple welts of the stoning and yet she did not weep. There was only gratitude in her heart as the stranger rode her away from Soriano.

  Blessed silence ensued for several miles of brown and gray terrain, giving her time to wonder about Bernardo’s fate. Had he refused to marry or did he now lay upon his wedding bed, piercing Lucella’s virginity?

  At that thought, her stomach turned, and she squeezed back tears. Her marriage was a farce. Bishop Carvajal and Bernardo must’ve tricked her. How could she be sure? She was not even right side up when it happened.

  Her captor slowed at a field filled with huge piles of fall hay. The last drop of hope drained away when the horse stopped. These grassy lumps were not a bountiful harvest, they were well disguised tents. Perhaps a hundred battle-ready warriors hid under the flaps. In the middle of the clearing, a catapult waited with one long arm and wooden wheels.