Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (50 page)

"I think you’re right. Oh, Jacomo, you’re brilliant. Let’s search for a church or a chapel."

They did not have to look far. They found a little chapel, just inside the forest, hidden behind bushes, at the far end of the terrace, a bare six steps from the cliff edge. Its inside was just large enough for half a dozen people. Only a wooden cross adorned its walls, which were all in bad need of a coat of plaster and whitewash. Monte Cetona rose right behind the apex of its roof. They walked around the bushes to get to its back and started climbing through the trees that largely obscured the peak, trying to keep on a straight line, carefully checking the ground for any sign of a former structure or ruin of a house. A short distance on, they were back on the open grass slope.

After several hundred steps, Jacomo said, full of frustration: "We are well past the intersection with the line from the poplars. We must do this differently. One of us has to stand at the edge of the terrace where the poplars can be seen and tell the other when he has reached the spot where the lines intersect."

"You’re right and since you said ‘when he has reached the spot’, you clearly want me to go to the edge of the cliffs," she replied smiling.

He blushed, murmuring: "I didn’t mean it that way."

"I’m just teasing you, little brother, although I should stop calling you that since you’re now taller than I."

Five minutes later she was standing at a spot lining up exactly to the poplars, where she could see still Jacomo. He was at least five hundred feet too high up the slope. She waved him down until she was sure that he stood approximately at the right place, and then joined him.

They looked around. About a hundred feet farther back, there was a tangle of bushes and briars in a small depression, close to the edge of the forest. It was impenetrable without getting scratched and having all clothing ripped, nor was it possible to see into its center.

"We’ll need a sword to slash through that."

They walked around it. From above they could just barely see the mossy top of a rough stone wall.

Jacomo pointed at it and said: "I think we’ve found it."

"Yes, Jacomo, I’m convinced we did. Thank you." Spontaneously, she hugged him and then became aware of what she had done — going against her own resolution to avoid anything that could inflame his passion for her and give him false hopes. Embarrassed, she let go. He was breathing hard. "Let’s return home now that we’ve found it. We’ll have to come back with tools another time."

They packed up and started their descent to Cetona where she intended to make discreet inquiries as to who owned that land. When they met up with the shepherd who was slowly herding his flock farther uphill, she greeted him. "What a beautiful place to graze your flocks."

"Only when the weather’s good, Signorina."

"You’re here all year long?"

"Only in winter, Signorina. In summer I’m up there." He pointed to the upper slopes of the mountain.

"Is it good grazing?"

"All right down here, but not much grass up there, mainly bushes. Difficult to keep the dumb beasts from scattering."

"I bet you’ve your tricks to keep them together. Whose land is this?"

"Don’t know. You ask
il
padrone. He owns the tavern in town."

"Thank you for your advice, but now we shouldn’t hold you up any longer. Have a nice day."

"You don’t hold me up at all, Signorina. Nobody ever comes up here," he called after them.

"Let’s go to the tavern and find out more," she said to Jacomo.

Ser Paolo, the tavern owner, was a chatty man. Chiara discovered in a roundabout way that he had leased the land for over twenty years and his father before that. The owner was a nobleman who lived on the coast.

"I’ve met him only once. It must be almost ten years ago. A tall, fine-looking gentleman. In all this time, he hasn’t raised the rent a single solido."

"That’s your gain."

"Mind you, since the plague rents have in fact gone down. There’s too much land for the few people left."

"I see. I didn’t think of that. And what’s the name of this generous nobleman, if I dare ask?"

"I think Signor da Narni."

The shock of hearing that name was so sudden that she sucked in her breath and she noticed that Jacomo’s eyes went big.

"You seem surprised, Signorina. Do you know the gentleman?"

She had caught herself again. "Yes, I do know a nobleman of that name. It could well be the same. It’s not a common name. Do you know where he lives?"

"No, just somewhere on the coast. I always deal with his agent in Chiusi, Messer Fabbriano. I guess he may be more than willing to tell you where he lives. Are you interested in buying the property?"

"I may. I’ve been looking for land. It depends how large a piece it is."

"Oh, it’s fair size. If you ride up there, my shepherd will be able to show you."

"We just came from up there," remarked Jacomo. "We rested on that terrace above the cliffs. Is that part of the property?"

"Oh, you were. Yes, the terrace belongs to it. There’s even a chapel up there, but it’s hardly used nowadays. All in all it’s maybe about five or six times the size of the terrace. I own the land below it and the steep slopes above it are communal property. I get my share of grazing up there in summer."

Chiara was suddenly eager to leave. Although she hid it well — her acting skills standing in good stead — she was in a state of confusion and agitation. Had her father owned that land? Was she now its owner? He had never mentioned anything about having land on the mainland. She had the need to find out right away.

Ser Paolo advised them on the best path to Chiusi, and they were on their way. Jacomo seemed as eager as she to find out the land owner’s real identity.

* * * 

The guard at the gate told them where they could find Messer Fabbriano, who after some probing confirmed that the owner was a Seignior Alberto da Narni of Elba.

"I have advised him more than once to raise the rent, but he always declined. Curiously, I have not received any news from him during these last two years. He was an old man and he might have died."

Chiara hesitated for a moment — was it prudent to reveal her origin — but saw no harm in it. "In fact, Seignior da Narni died a bit more than a year ago in Grosseto. I am his daughter, Chiara da Narni, and only heir."

"My condolences, Signorina, I am sorry to hear of your father’s death." He paused, clearing his throat several times. "Signorina, I am sure you understand that I need proof that you are the only heir. A testimonial from the Podestà of Grosseto would be most appreciated. Do you by chance have such a document on you?"

"No, I do not and my father died in Grosseto while on a journey. But I will arrange that you receive a testimonial from Casa Medici of Florence that I am the daughter and only heir of Seignior da Narni. Will that be agreeable?"

"Casa Medici? Certainly, Signorina. I am their agent in Chiusi. I would be happy to ask Signor di Bicci myself, to save you the trouble."

"How kind of you,
Messere
. Please do."

"I certainly will with pleasure. Ah, you may want to know what arrangements your father has made for the rent I collect. The entire sum, less my expenses of one quarter, is each year given to the orphanage of Santa Maria of Chiusi, so that they pray for the soul of the late wife of Seignior da Narni, ah, I mean your mother."

"That is fine with me. I would not want to change my father’s wishes. You may though ask the sisters of Santa Maria to now also include a prayer for the soul of my father."

"I’m happy that you see fit to continue this arrangement and can vouch that the sisters of Santa Maria will humbly include your father in their prayers. Ah, I may though ask you to consider increasing the rent on that property from thirty
solidi
to at least forty. Even at that it is still cheap."

She could not help smiling inside. "You have my permission to do that,
Messere
."

He wanted to know where she lived. She replied that she was only passing through and that, if he needed to get in touch with her, he could do this through Signor di Bicci.

They took leave and took to the road to Chianciano. Chiara marveled at the turn of events. Now she could legitimately claim that treasure as her own without having to steal if from somebody else’s land. Thinking about it, it made sense. Her father would hardly have kept the secret of this treasure if he did not own it. He had been too upright a man not to have made the owner aware of it, nor would it have led to a feud between the Sanguanero and the da Narni families. And since he wanted to protect it from Sanguanero, he must have destroyed any documents in his possession before he had to cede the Elba property to them, because the documents she had received after his death did not contain anything pertaining to Cetona. She was bemused that in the end he had outsmarted Massimo Sanguanero.

Jacomo pulled her out of these musings. "Did you really have no idea that your father owned this land?"

"No, not the slightest. I always thought that the treasure was hidden on our land on Elba, and I bet so did Sanguanero. It’s strange to be the owner of that land so unexpectedly. Mind you, it is small compared to what was mine, will be mine one day again, on Elba."

"Isn’t life often strange … strange coincidences happen at the most unexpected times? We look for a treasure and find that you own the land on which it is. Or Veronica and I lingering in the square in Cagli after your show, which we never did before, since people always chased us away, and you calling us over. Or Lady Maria being one of the guests at Sanguanero’s betrothal celebration."

"Yes, I have often thought that my life consisted of a series of coincidences. Even Alda falling sick right here, and, rather than go to Rome, we stayed and found the location of the treasure."

"Can you now make sense of those pages at the beginning, the link between the church tower in Chiusi and the cone-shaped object? On one page there is a cherub reading a book —"

"— or singing from a book."

"— with clouds overhead —"

"— I get it. On the next one, the sun is shining and he looks into the distance. Obvious! No point trying to find the mountain when there are clouds. Oh Jacomo, you are so clever."

He beamed.

Something began to bother her. A noise in the distance behind them. She turned to look back down the road they had just covered. "Do you also hear galloping horses, Jacomo?"

At that moment, four riders came into view around a bend, a thousand feet or so behind them.
Road bandits?
She had thought this was safe country.

"I don’t like this. Let’s gallop away and hide," she shouted.

The words had barely left her mouth when her steed was already racing along the road. She knew their horses would not be able to hold this up for long. They had already had a rather strenuous day, and would tire soon. The road which so far had been following the crest of the hills — the Astrone river a fair stretch to their left — would soon approach the cliffs along the river, and she remembered seeing a track going down to the water.

"We’ll take the first track down to the river … just a bit further on," she shouted again.

The four riders had already eaten up about a third of their initial lead. She saw the track coming up, slowed her horse just enough to safely negotiate the sharp turn and cantered down to the river. Jacomo crossed over right at her heels. After a short, steep incline, they entered slowly rising ground. She guessed that it would lead up to the path they had taken this morning to Sarteano. A dilapidated farmhouse appeared to their right. For a second she was tempted to find refuge there, but their pursuer — and by then she had no more doubts that they were after them — had just gained the higher ground. Shortly after the house, the track dipped into a shallow ravine and rather than continue up the track, she veered into its shallow water course and followed it downstream. Below a sharp bend, when they were hidden from view, she jumped off, quickly removed the bow and arrows, always constant companions, and climbed a few feet up a small cliff from where she could see the ravine. Jacomo was right at her side. She saw the riders go past and continue along the track.

"They’ll be back when they don’t see us," he murmured.

"Yes, they will. Are you ready? The knives too?"

He nodded. "How did you know they were after us? Who are they?"

"It was just a premonition, and I guess they’re bandits. They may have seen us come out of Messer Fabbriano’s, thinking we withdrew money."

They did not have to wait long before the riders returned. The group split, two going uphill, two coming down toward them.

"I’ll take the one on the right. They might wear mail." There was no need to tell Jacomo more.

The two cantered down the stream bed. When they were no more than a dozen paces away, Chiara rose, took aim and let go. A spine-chilling scream reverberated through the ravine, as the man tumbled off his horse. Jacomo’s arrow pierced the temple of the other rider. He fell backward without a sound, while his horse continued a bit farther down the ravine.

Alerted by the scream, the other two turned around and came down the ravine, but stopped just out of reach of their arrows. One of them dismounted, hiding behind his horse. She wondered what he was doing. It did not take long to discover. She vaguely perceived an object flying toward them and, before she could duck, Jacomo slumped down beside her, the missile stuck in his right shoulder. He was breathing loudly through his teeth, pressing them together tightly, preventing himself from screaming.

"Oh no," she moaned, crouching down, following her first impulse to look after his wound.

He shook his head violently. "There are two more," he pressed out and then closed his eyes again.

He’s right, my brave brother.
She heard the other two ride down and when she guessed that they were just above the bend, she shot up again. In contrast to the first two, the rider in front was wearing a helmet with a nose piece, leaving only his throat above the body mail exposed. Her aim was true. The knife struck. The second rider, a horse length behind, reined his mount sharply, just as she sent her second knife on its course and it hit him below the right collar bone. He screamed. His sword slipped from his right hand, falling onto the stones with a sharp clang. In the meantime, the helmeted rider, clutching the knife with both hands, pulled it out, and she heard again the sickening gurgle of a man drowning in his own blood, before he slowly fell sideways into the creek. She was already raising her hand to throw a third knife when she recognized the young lad — Luigi Baglione, the young man she had seen at Casa Sanguanero. She stopped her sweep just in time. He looked up to her. In the dim light she could see cold fear in his eyes.