The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance Read online

  War horses nickered, tethered at a nearby farm house.

  Mother of God! Pierpaolo intended to invade Soriano.

  She didn’t give a piss about the people who’d almost just stoned her to death. But what about Bernardo? He’d most certainly be one of the first to die in a surprise attack.

  Her champion spoke quietly to another wearing a similar leather vest. “Bind her and see that no harm comes to her. She’s to be ransomed. Understood?”

  The other nodded and pulled her down off the horse. He ducked under the flap of the nearest tent, dragging her along. Then he tied her to a thick pole in the center of the dim shelter and left.

  The sun set fast in November and before she could ponder her escape, it was dark. Then the cool air turned cold. Sitting on the damp ground, she said a prayer for the thoughtful old woman who’d handed her a warm cloak as she’d walked in shame down the hill of Soriano.

  A low voice rasped outside the tent, breaking her thoughts. “I’ll give a ducat for a first go at her.”

  She moaned and struggled at the ropes that bound her.

  “I’ll double that. C’mon now, amico, I’ll get her nice and wet for you.”

  Damn all the saints to hell! She squirmed to retrieve her knife from her boot. She’d slice their throats, one at a time. That is, should she reach her blade in time.

  Suddenly, a man shouted. “The tower! The signal! Mount up.”

  One fear replaced another as excited male voices shouted out. Horses whinnied, spurs jangled, and swords sliced against leather as they prepared for battle. She’d heard stories of how women were catapulted over the walls during a siege. Would they leave her here or bring her with them? She twisted, her teeth inches from the hilt of her boot’s stiletto.

  A strange bird whooped outside the tent and she paused, remembering her confession in the church. Had not Bernardo’s cousin said something about a bird call? Was it possible she was going to be rescued?

  “Pssst. Aurelia. Say nothing.” Fulvio’s voice whispered outside the tent and her heart raced.

  The flap of the tent opened, cool air met her back, then a knife cut the ropes binding her hands and feet.

  He pulled her outside and asked, “Can you run?”

  He’d rubbed some kind of charcoal over the muscles of his chest and face so the moonless night made him all but invisible.

  She nodded.

  With a finger to his lips, he pointed to the outline of a nearby rock fence and pushed her forward. “Go.”

  Having no layers of skirts to hinder her movements, she lifted her warm cape, held the roll of hose, and ran like the wind. At the wall, she jumped and fell onto her stomach. Fulvio joined her a moment later, his breath labored.

  They both listened and stared into the blackness behind them.

  Nothing.

  Finally, Fulvio grinned and took her hand. “They’re too busy preparing for the assault on Soriano to notice.”

  “Come.” He dashed into a clump of trees.

  With hands in front of her face she blindly followed to where his horse was tethered. Silently they mounted and rode through low branches of hazelnut trees until they were feet away from a small farmhouse with a thatched roof.

  Fulvio got down and handed her the reins. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  In the field beyond, the army prepared for battle. Horses stomped, leather saddles creaked, and then a piece of wood cracked loudly.

  A very low voice with a northern accent cursed and grunted. “The wheel is stuck tight.”

  Another said, “Put a stone there.”

  “Push.”

  Despite the tumult, at this distance and in the moonless night, they’d never be detected by Soriano, not even from the parapets.

  What was taking Fulvio so long?

  Suddenly, a sliver of moonlight peaked out between the clouds, lighting a nearby hill.

  Mother of God! The giant iron ring of Bastia! She needed to get to it. Now.

  With a flick of the reins and a kick of her heels, she raced off without another thought. All the while she prayed Fulvio’s strong beast was sure-footed as it jumped the rock fences and small streams.

  Once in front of the ring she searched on hands and knees for a way to make the damn thing clang. Her stiletto was too small.

  A priest dressed in his sleeping gown opened the second floor shutters in the nearby church tower. “What do you want?”

  She shouted, “Vignanello is attacking Soriano. Look how they gather in the field below.”

  The man leaned way out the window toward where she pointed. He appeared in front of her a moment later cradling what appeared to be a heavy iron sword. Swinging it back, he whacked the steely ring. The clang deafened her.

  Pierpaolo’s warriors raced up the hill like angry ants.

  The priest shouted at her between clangs. “To Soriano.”

  She left the brave man, jumped onto Fulvio’s charger, and found the main road. The clanging continued until she heard a blood curdling scream. But far away, similar clangs began to echo throughout the valley from every direction. Soriano had been well-warned. The man had not died in vain.

  Her mind churned. The people of Soriano would never allow her entrance, not after nearly stoning her in the piazza. Regardless, she clamped her legs and urged her horse faster. Bernardo needed her, even if he’d tricked her most foully.

  As she drew near, the road became clogged with farmers and peasants running toward the village. She’d never seen a more devoted set of vassals. They held pitiful weapons of metal hoes and pitchforks.

  Trying to avoid them, she almost trampled an old woman shuffling along with a basket’s handle in the crook of her elbow and a cat in her arms.

  Aurelia pulled up on the reins. “Old woman! Pierpaolo’s men are coming. An army. You best get off the road.”

  Wise eyes stared up and Aurelia almost tumbled off the horse at the shock of seeing the familiar old face. This was the woman who’d handed her the warm cloak mere hours before in front of the butcher shop.

  “You?” Aurelia breathed out.

  The woman grinned with toothless smile, cackled, and curtsied. “Si. I’m the old vechio of Bastia. I’ll help you get into Soriano. Dismount.”

  Not having any other plan, Aurelia got down from Fulvio’s horse and petted its nose, holding the reins tight.

  Meanwhile, the ancient woman held out her hand. “Give me my cloak.”

  Aurelia reluctantly shrugged out of the warm wool. Then her eyes widened as the old woman sprinkled some kind of dust into the inside and outside of the garment.

  “Here. Put it on.” The vechio pulled the hood over her head and handed her the basket of sweet porchetta along with the good-natured cat.

  She lightly slapped Aurelia’s cheeks. “Pay attention. None will question you if you pretend to be me. Hurry now. Enter with the rest. Give me your horse for safe keeping.”

  Shocked, Aurelia handed off the reins and gathered her wits at the last moment. “Fulvio, Bernardo’s man is within a farmhouse in Bastia. Please help him. But caution, ancient one, the army approaches fast upon this road.”

  Not wanting to waste another moment, Aurelia shuffled as fast as she dare toward the main gate while peasants shouted about the impending attack, rushing the gate.

  “Old Vechio! You shouldn’t be out! Didn’t you hear the alarms from Bastia?” A Soriano guard took her arm, stared with mouth open at the glowing cape, yet helped her through the mass of bodies.

  She reached up and tugged his ear lower so he could hear her over the melee. “Pierpaolo’s men. They’re all but upon us. About one hundred strong. Maybe more.”

  He started to answer but his hands shot to his chest and he fell back when an arrow pierced straight through his neck.

  She squatted, pried his sword out from under him, and yelled, “Clear the gate! Clear the gate!”

  Gripping the bloody hilt, she swung the blade and split the rope holding up the iron spikes. They fe
ll and clanged to the bottom.

  Mothers who’d been too far away rushed forward and handed their babies through the bars into arms of those inside. Then they turned, faces grim, and raised whatever meager weapons they carried.

  Suddenly, horse hooves pounded, people screamed, and the air rained blood as Pierpaolo’s mounted men slaughtered the peasants like sheep.

  Her stomach lurched and she heaved. When she raised her eyes the butcher and Antonio were at her side.

  She stared into their astonished faces. “Where’s Bernardo?”

  The older of the two men twisted a crested ring off his finger. “He was last seen in the dungeon. Tell the guard to release him. That The Sentinel sent you.”

  He grabbed a boy of about ten and pushed him toward her. “Show her the lower entrance. Don’t worry, my son. It’s the angel Uriel. She’ll protect you.”

  The boy’s brown eyes went wide as if she had two heads. Then without a word he ran off. She followed, bare feet pounding on the rounded stones.

  Those who had reviled her earlier in the day, made way, cheering. “A miracle! The Angel Uriel. To Arms.”

  Halfway up the hill, heart pounding, she paused to catch her breath while merchants with swords passed by in the opposite direction. One stopped, stared, and made the sign of the cross. Another rolled his eyes to heaven and prayed aloud.

  She grabbed the boy’s arm. “What goes on?”

  He stared into her face. “You don’t know?” He picked up her hand and put it in front of her face. “You glow.”

  She brushed at the glowing greenish dust that covered her arms and studied the underside of the cloak. It seemed to burn brightly without heat. Then there was no more time to wonder as the boy dashed off and ducked under an arch.

  Down a long stairway, over a wall covered with vines, and into a tiny courtyard she followed. Then he led her down an ancient circular stairway. When the pebbles loosened, they plopped into well water far, far below.

  A torch waited at the bottom which he quickly lit. They sprinted up a narrow sloping path and passed an ancient underground city filled with many rooms. One contained olive oil presses and another, a pottery kiln. They ran by barrels, pots, lamps, harnesses, and sleepy-eyed donkeys in their stalls.

  Soon, the path led them to a steep staircase. The boy put a finger to his lips and pointed up at a sliding bar of metal.

  Angry shouts echoed in the room above.

  Bernardo!

  She climbed the ladder, reached up, and slid back the cold steel bar. Then she lifted the wood square and slid it to the side, overhead. The acrid smell of urine pouring from the dungeon made her eyes water. Then, much like a hedgehog, she poked her head out of the opening.

  Torchlight flickered, eerily lighting the black walls of the tufa cave. A guard sat on the bottom of a stone step, sharpening a knife. And behind iron bars, her Bernardo squatted on his heels, then caught her gaze.

  While she calculated the odds of being stabbed to death, the boy squeezed out in front of her and rolled into the main room of the dungeon.

  He landed at the feet of the guard and grinned. “Buona sera. My father says you must come immediately. An army is at the gates.”

  “Wait! The keys!” She crawled out and thrust The Sentinel’s ring in front of the jailer’s shocked look. “He says to release him.”

  Chapter 26

  Aurelia’s shining head poked out of a crevice in the back of the cave.

  Have I lost my wits or does she haunt me from beyond the grave? His mouth dropped open when she crawled out of the hole wearing only a glowing cape and a chemise. Maybe he’d died and gone to heaven.

  Then the butcher’s son followed, shouting out the awful news that Pierpaolo’s men were attacking his city.

  An army at the gates? “God’s blood! Roberto! Release me!” He shook the bars, but his jailer hesitated, too damned uncertain of what to do.

  Aurelia thrust a man’s ring in front of the jailer’s face and said, “Do as he says! The Sentinel sent me.”

  How does she know of Soriano’s most well kept secrets?

  Before he could ask, Roberto paled and removed a key from around his neck in order to unlock the cage. Then Aurelia’s perfect and definitely human body was in his arms, embracing him tightly. Thank God she was no spirit. The possibility still existed, however, that he’d gone quite mad because her skin shimmered in the dark.

  He pulled her off his body, brushed his mouth over her lips and groaned. “Aurelia? Tell me. Are you glowing?”

  She nodded and grabbed his hand. “Si. I am. But that has no import. Pierpaolo is trying to take the city.”

  “Merda. Shit.” Bernardo’s hand gripped air instead of sword’s hilt. “My weapon.” He glared, Roberto ran to the wall, and threw him his blade and belt.

  With one eye on his glowing angel-wife, Bernardo buckled the leather over his hips. He needed a full report and for a moment wondered if she was capable of giving it, or for that matter, if she was even real.

  She must’ve sensed his confusion. “They’re about a hundred strong. But I sounded the alarm at Bastia and the local farmers and merchants came by the thousands. I’m sure you have enough people to defend the keep.”

  “And Pierpaolo’s men? Are they inside or out?”

  “Mostly out.” The boy who’d risked his life stood speaking from halfway down the hole. “Thanks to the Angel Uriel. She chopped though the portcullis rope and it fell just as the murdering bastards arrived.”

  He shivered to think of her in such danger and squeezed her tight.

  “Has anyone seen my father?” Bernardo feared the worst when they all shook their heads in the negative. Hadn’t he seen his father and that snake Pierpaolo shaking hands in the church?

  The boy looked down the hole and began his descent. “I need to get back, if I may.”

  Bernardo nodded. “Take care. Tell The Sentinel to hold the gate as long as possible.”

  After the boy’s head disappeared, Bernardo turned back toward Aurelia. “I thought you safe with Fulvio. Where is he?”

  Her face skewed and she bit her lower lip. “Uh. I left him in Bastia. But don’t worry. He was safely hid in a farmhouse. I borrowed his horse.”

  “Scusami?” He might need to thrash her once this was over.

  “I saw the iron ring on the hill. The opportunity would not come again. I had to go and warn the people.”

  He moaned knowing how close she must’ve been to death. “It was you?”

  “Si. Then I couldn’t go back for him. Instead I raced for Soriano. To you.”

  In that moment, he couldn’t have loved her more. He waved Roberto to the black tufa stairs and then turned as she followed. “Not you, Aurelia. Stay put. Hide.”

  Of course his wife did nothing of the kind. Instead, she padded up the stone behind him with her fingers grasping onto his belt. This was pure madness, but he had no more time to argue.

  In the main hall, broken vessels, overturned tables, and splattered food indicated the battle had started during the wedding banquet. How could this have happened?

  Castle guards fought with long flagged pikes. Well-dressed wedding guests jabbed and stabbed with swords at his men but the ten foot poles whistled expertly around them in the air. He paid his enemies no mind for they were as good as dead. Their pikesmen were the world’s best.

  He tucked Aurelia close and raced up the main staircase, already knowing in his heart what he’d find. The kind of fear that knew no equal tightened in his gut as he opened the chamber’s door.

  Aurelia, standing right behind him, gasped at the awful sight. His father’s neck was slit wide open and he lay in a dark puddle of blood next to his stepmother’s severed head. Bernardo’s ears pounded with rage as he imprinted the memory forever. He would avenge their deaths.

  Letting the cold indifference needed for battle sink into his soul, he pulled a pistol from under his dead father’s belt and pushed it into Aurelia’s hands. Somehow, he needed to get
her to safety but knew she’d never leave his side unless he could think of a good reason.

  Just down the hall, Lucella’s wails and her grandmother’s attempts to quiet her gave him an idea. “Aurelia, go to the women. Tell them I said to let you in.”

  She hesitated, face uncertain.

  “If either of them dies, we may soon be on opposite sides of a war. You and I will never be one. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can. Please love.”

  She nodded then pointed to the pellets and powder bag. “I’ll need them, too.”

  “You’ll be safer behind the guest room’s solid oak door. There’s an exit out to the river. Lucella knows of it. Follow her.” Convinced she’d be safe, he ran to the top of the parapets, holding his breath. Would he be able to save the village or was it already too late?

  From the height, he quickly calculated the battle’s tide. At the gates to the east and west, swordsmen held off Pierpaolo’s men who tried to climb over the wall.

  Out in the fields, his knights fought an oncoming army. What he hadn’t expected to see, was the hundreds of townspeople fighting alongside. It was as if Soriano’s forces had quadrupled overnight.

  Then he spied yet another unexpected sight. His family’s colors on a warhorse. Helms down, it was hard to detect which of his cousins battled for his sake. By God, how had he known so soon?

  One man limped as if one leg longer than the other and gripped a sword like no other. It had to be his brother, Niccolo, who’d traveled with armored men.

  Apparently Pierpaolo hadn’t foreseen the impossible. With the extra warriors, including many local women dressed for battle, the enemy was vastly outnumbered. Bernardo shouted words of encouragement to the archers before dashing down the stairs and into the worst of the fighting near the main road.

  All night his angry sword carved so many men he lost count. Meanwhile, catapulted iron balls hit the thick walls, but they held strong. At some point during the fight they must’ve stopped but he wasn’t sure when. Unable to think other than to slice at the enemy that came at him, he fought for what must’ve been hours.