From Hell with Love (20 page)

“Father,” Niccolo started, but the older man stomped his foot on the floor and sniffed loudly.

“Stop saying that word!  You have no right to say that anymore!” he shouted, which echoed throughout the courtyard.  That echo was enough to shake Niccolo down to his soul, causing him to stare at his father in horror.

“Father…” he said under his breath, but at that Carlo walked up to him and back-handed him.

“You have no right,
leper
,” he said with an air of disgust.  “Do you think I will allow that kind of disease into my
house
, into my
family
?”  The question echoed throughout the courtyard and before Niccolo could react, a wail went up from the back room.

“Do you think I will allow my son to be
tainted
by the thing that came before?” Carlo asked as a shadow appeared in the hallway.  It drew Niccolo’s eye, and he was shocked to see Allegra walking forward, a bundle of white linen cradled in her arm.

“Father…” Niccolo muttered again, forgetting what had just happened.  The grinding of metal filled the air and a silver gleam split the image of Allegra holding her infant son.  Only after a moment did Niccolo realize that his father had drawn his sword, holding it with malice.

“I told you already.  That word does not belong to you.”

“Carlo,” Niccolo said, trying to salvage the situation.  “I’m sorry.  But…this, this is just temporary…”

“Temporary?  That
rot
on your arm is not temporary, boy.  That will last with you the rest of your short life.  You will weaken and you will die, rotting from within.  I don’t know what,” Carlo said, his voice wavering with emotion.  It was only then that Niccolo realized that his father still cared for him, even if he denied it.  “I don’t know what you have done to slight God in this fashion, but we will not be associated with the blight in your soul.”

“There is a cure,” Niccolo started, but he felt a sharp pain on the side of his face as Carlo whipped him with the flat of his silver blade.

“Is there?  Is there a cure for evil?  Is there a cure for the wickedness inside your soul?  If there is, by all means find it, but do so on your own.  You have no home here.  You have no father to help you on your mission.”

“I’m your son,” Niccolo pleaded, but Carlo shook his head, tears lining his eyes.  He pointed his sword back to the infant in his wife’s arm.

“
He
is my son.  My
only
son.”

“Father,” Niccolo said, pain enveloping his throat as he held back his sobs.  He didn’t even care if his father killed him for the slight, but Carlo lowered his blade and just looked at the leper in his courtyard.

“That is the last time you use that word.  I will kill you if it passes your lips again.  Go.  Now.  Never come back.  If I see you again, you will be a stranger to me.”

“I’m sorry, Nico,” Allegra apologized from behind her husband, but the woman could not look him in the eye.  Niccolo would not have been able to maintain eye contact even if she did.  For the moment, he could only stare at the baby at her breast, the favored son who now had the future meant for him.  Niccolo’s eyes were unfocused as he turned around, finally realizing that his life was over.  He was no longer Niccolo Vespucci.  When he left the estate of Carlo Vespucci, he was not a merchant’s son.

He was just another leper.

***

Niccolo found that even the weather would not allow him any sort of reprieve.  As he walked away from his past, the sky opened up and rain assaulted him.  The people of Firenze abandoned their business in the freak storm, not knowing where this downpour had come from.  Clouds had been absent before his exile, but now the sky was filled with them.  It did not really bother Niccolo; it just seemed appropriate.

He wandered through the abandoned streets and knew that his world was over.  He knew that it was only a matter of time before the disease in his arm overtook him, destroyed what was left of him.  For the first time, he wondered if what Marco and Carlo had said was true.  He wondered if he had done something to slight God, to offend the Lord.  His thoughts fell back to his prayers in the chapel.  Niccolo had never been the best worshipper, that was for certain, but there were plenty of other people who were much worse.  There were plenty of other people who deserved the blight that was eating through his left arm.

Then he remembered the angry, dead stare of the Sicilian.  The man’s corpse was probably still there, still staring at an enemy that had long since found its way across the city.  The blood that had dried there on the ground was probably seeping out, given new life by the rain that poured from the heavens.  That man had died because of Niccolo.  He had died because Niccolo wanted to look more appealing to his father, a man who had not even bothered to listen.

Niccolo wept, his tears completely overtaken by the rain pouring onto his face, and realized that maybe he deserved this pestilence on his arm.  Maybe he deserved to suffer for his sins.  God must have seen that he was not worthy of affection or kindness.  He must have known that Niccolo would kill a man at the slightest provocation.  Niccolo sank into despair as he fell onto his knees.

He prayed again, not aloud but in his mind.  It felt more pure than to ask with his voice.  As the rain fell around him, he looked to the heavens and closed his eyes, praying for forgiveness.  He prayed that he would eventually find absolution or salvation.  He prayed that God would find him worthy and take this blight from his soul.

However, when he looked at his left arm, the wounds were still there.  The sores and gashes wept with him as the rain fell onto the exposed skin; the thin line left by the vendor’s blade was a muted red in the poor light.  His prayers went unanswered, but Niccolo knew that would happen.  God had not only abandoned him, he had punished Niccolo for some reason.  A prayer in the middle of a road would not be enough to reverse his fortune.

Niccolo picked himself up and continued to walk down the streets of Firenze.  He shivered as the cold started to get to him and realized that he would need shelter.  Eventually, without some sort of covering, Niccolo would succumb to the cold and death.  It almost seemed appealing, given his situation, but the leper shook the thought from his mind.  He was not ready to die; he was not ready to face his final judgment.

Then he realized that there was one more person in Firenze who might show him compassion.  Marco and his father were no longer men he could count on, but perhaps what he needed was not a man at all.  Niccolo burst into a run down the street, determined to find the one person who could help him in his dire situation. 

He ran to the woman who loved him.

When he reached the Gherardini estate, he looked up at the building in relief.  Camilla would be up there, no doubt, and it was merely a task of reaching her in time.  The servants would not let him in like this, but luckily, Niccolo had never needed servants to do anything for him.  He walked up to the nearby tree and climbed, the slick bark more than just annoying, but he would not be stopped by a little inconvenience.  It was only a moment before he reached the last branch.  He took a deep breath, knowing that the rain would make this difficult, but he had done this too many times to consider that he would fail now.

His fingers found purchase on the windowsill, though his grip almost faltered because of the water.  However, he soon pulled himself up and over, softly lowering his feet onto the floor underneath.  He would need to be even more careful than usual, as his capture would not be received kindly on this occasion.  With just a few quick steps, Niccolo found his way to Camilla’s door.  Unlike any other time, however, Niccolo did not bother to knock.  He just opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” Antonio Gherardini asked in shock.  Niccolo was just as surprised to see the merchant standing there at the foot of Camilla’s bed and he almost did not notice Camilla sitting behind him.

“Niccolo!” she shouted, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Get out of here, scoundrel!” Antonio shouted, but Niccolo shook his head in his confusion, sending water droplets from the ends of his hair.

“I… Camilla,” he started, but Antonio did not let him finish.

“Did you hear me, leper?  I said leave at once!” he shouted as he stepped over to Niccolo.  He was about to grab at the young man’s collar when Niccolo reacted and swept under the merchant’s arms, backing away slowly.

“Master Gherardini, I’m sorry!  I just needed to see Cami-”

“You will leave here, Niccolo,” Antonio said, his chest heaving with a heavy breath.  His hand strayed down to the scabbard at his side.  “Or I will kill you.”

“Father, no!” Camilla shouted from the bed, but Niccolo put out his hand to stop her from continuing.

“I came to talk to the woman I love,” Niccolo stated, but Antonio merely laughed at that.

“What do I care who you
love
?  My daughter will have nothing to do with you from now on.”

“Father…” Camilla said under her breath, but Antonio seemed to shake with anger.

“You will have
nothing
to do with this man!  He is dead to you!” he shouted, drawing his sword with fury.  “I will not have my daughter consorting with a leper!”

“I love him,” Camilla pleaded, but her father slammed his fist against the wall nearby.  After a moment, his breathing came back under control, but his gaze was still fixed on the dripping man standing in his daughter’s bedroom.

“You will learn to love again, Camilla.  This one does not deserve what you’ve given him.”

“We-” Niccolo started, but the merchant yelled before he could continue.

“Did I
ask
for you to speak?  You are an intruder in my home.  You are standing…you have invaded the sanctity of my daughter’s bedroom for the last time!” he shouted as he rushed forward, his blade swinging down from Niccolo’s right.  The leper reacted quickly, withdrawing his knife and using it to parry the blow, but he was still facing a larger man with a better weapon.

“Father!” Camilla cried, but Antonio continued his assault with a thrust toward Niccolo’s midsection.  Luckily for Niccolo, he had been trained well in swordplay, so he evaded the strike and then ran forward, grabbing Antonio by the throat and shoving him toward the wall, causing Gherardini to drop his blade.  He stared down the larger man with murder in his eyes and a knife held against Antonio’s throat.  Even then, the merchant was not filled with fear; his dark eyes promised only violence.

“Do it, then.  Do it, you
devil
,” he urged, not caring for his life.

“Nico,” Camilla said from his other side.  The leper turned slightly so that he could look out of the corner of his eye.  Standing there in misery, the two men she loved locked in mortal combat, Camilla was a mess.  Even then, Niccolo thought she was just as beautiful as she was that moonlit night when she agreed to marry him.

“Camilla,” he muttered, forgetting that he held a man’s life in his hands.

“Let him go,” she pleaded, streams of tears running down her olive skin.

“He was trying to kill me,” he said, his bandaged hand tightening its grip, bringing a strained grunt from the merchant.

“He’s my father.  He was protecting me.”

“I would never hurt you,” Niccolo said, his face contorting in misery.  Camilla gave him a sad smile at that.

“I know, my love.  I know.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice wavering from the effort.  The dark-haired girl nodded.

“And I love you,” she said.  “And I love him.  Please, let him go,” Camilla pleaded as she walked forward.  Eventually she put her hand on the side of Niccolo’s wet face and bit her lip, which caused his stomach to turn with affection.  He felt the warmth of her skin against his cheek and almost closed his eyes, but at the last second he remembered the man in his bandaged hand.  He turned to look Gherardini in the eye and sighed before letting go, picking up the blade at their feet and backing away.  Antonio breathed out in a mixture of relief and fear and then walked sideways over to Camilla’s bed, his daughter holding his elbow.

“Thank you, my love,” Camilla said, guiding her father to sit on her bed.  After she set him on the mattress of feathers, she walked over to Niccolo and placed her hands on each side of his face.  “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for sparing him.  I thank you for the time you’ve spent with me.  My life would have been so much less without you."

“Camilla,” Niccolo said, not wanting to understand why she would say such things.  Then he realized sorrow remained on her face.

“Niccolo.  Goodbye.  I…hope you don’t think of me poorly,” she said as she broke eye contact and looked at the floor.

“What are you saying?” he asked, knowing the terrible truth that she was unable to speak.  Tears came unbidden to his eyes.  When they fell, they simply blended in with the rainwater on his face.

“I cannot marry you, Nico.  I know you understand.  I know it’s cruel,” she said, bringing her gaze back up.  “I love you, Nico, but I cannot be with you.”

“Camilla, this is…this isn’t the end,” he argued, waving around his rotting arm, but Camilla just shook her head.

“I’m afraid it is, my love.  You will have to live without me, just as I must live without you.”

“Please, Camilla, I love you!” he urged, forgetting the man on her bed.  It was just the two of them in that room.

“I know, my love,” she said before sniffing back tears.  “And I will always love you.  But that’s not enough.  I cannot live with a leper.  I cannot even risk kissing you,” she said before turning away and walking to her bed, sitting by her father.  “Please, leave, Nico.  There’s nothing here for you.”

“Camilla,” Niccolo whimpered, his voice barely audible over the rain pouring all over Firenze.  When the girl looked back up at him, she could not speak another word.  She did not have to; the expression on her face was all Niccolo needed to see. 

He ran out of the room and back to the windowsill, seeing guards already coming up the stairs.  Niccolo cursed as they rushed forward, not even able to take a moment to process the fact that the love of his life had just refused him.  Before the guards reached him, Niccolo had already jumped out the window and reached for the nearest branch.