The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance (16 page)

“She couldn’t have just disappeared into the ether!” Bernardo paced back and forth in Pino Aggi’s small kitchen while Fulvio looked on, sullen.

Finally he’d gotten the old man to confess
where
Aurelia had gone, but not the why. And now, even the latest knowledge was of no use because she’d left Florence as well.

Pino handed him a parchment of paper. “Father Dominic, the priest in charge, wrote and said she was not fitting in.”

“And you accepted that?” Bernardo grabbed the letter held by the herbalist and read. When he got to the part where it said that Borgia had been sent for, he moaned aloud.

The man fumed and pointed his index finger. “Don’t blame me, young man. It’s your fault she ran away to begin with.”

Bernardo exploded, cursing with his hands. “My fault? I married her, Signore. She is my wife! She ran away from me, not the other way around.”

“And yet you married another after your wedding to her. She believes you tricked her.” He raised his eyebrows with accusation in his eyes.

“Is that what she said?” The fight left him, his stomach rolled and he thought he might hurl. How had she misunderstood him so fully?

Pino nodded.

Bernardo’s voice shook as he tried to explain. “I swear, it was the first marriage that was real. The second one was false. I was in chains and my father wouldn’t hear me out. All I could do is ask my cousin to go through the motions. I thought she understood.”

“She said you made her guard your fiancé.”

“No, no. I sent her to go inside the room where the women were to be kept safe. Never in my wildest dreams did I think they’d leave her outside in the hall. That room holds the only path to safety out of the castle. Lucella knew that.” He moaned, of course Lucella had told no one.

No doubt she was waiting for the last minute and would’ve run to safety by herself. Try to get home to Spain on her own accord or maybe even with Pierpaolo’s help. Damn the little bitch.

Bernardo despaired as he swallowed hard. “I should never have let go of Aurelia’s hand that day. Tell me, where was she last seen? I’ll begin my search there.”

“She joined the Apothecary Nuns of the Dominican Order in Florence. The last time she wrote, she was settling down nicely. Happy even.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know.”

Bernardo stared at the paper in his hands. A nun? Aurelia? It just didn’t make any sense. Why had she left him? He’d given up everything for her. Surely she hadn’t believed the nonsense that Lucella had spurted out?

All he knew was that he needed her desperately. He mounted up and Fulvio followed suit.

His friend shook his head once they were well on their way. “I wish I’d been inside the gates. I would’ve kept her safe. Imagine my surprise when I exited the farmhouse and she’d stolen my horse. After all I’d gone through to rescue her.”

“Thank God she sent it back with the old woman. If you hadn’t disabled the catapult when you did, I’m not sure the walls would’ve held much longer.” Bernardo sighed heavily. “What a mess. We need to find her before the pope’s celebration.”

“She couldn’t have gone too far. She’s got no money, no horse, and no other relatives.”

“Blood of Christ! Are you purposely trying to make me despondent?” Bernardo glared.

“No. Just stating the obvious. Once we get there, it shouldn’t take that long to find her.”

“If she survives.” Clenching his teeth. Bernardo urged his mount faster.

Fulvio rode alongside. “Does she know about her inheritance in Naples?”

“I never had a chance to tell her.”

“So if she comes upon Borgia, and he offers her sanctuary, she might take it?”

“What would you do?” He frowned then took Monstro to a gallop.

“Shit.”

Joseph’s stolen robe hung long over her nun’s habit and the wool cap covered her head down to her chin. Still, Aurelia shivered as she walked along the winding road, wondering if it would snow.

Ahead, a group of teenage boys from her order laughed, shoved each other, and made lewd jokes. Some had prettier faces than hers but none would be considered feminine. She pondered as she followed at a distance and tried to compare her behaviors to theirs. It wasn’t just a woman’s looks that made men desire, it had to be something else.

I lower my gaze whereas they stare directly. I fold my hands inside my sleeve and take short steps. They stride boldly, grapple and brawl. My voice is high and a bit breathy.

Even the voices that had not yet changed were loud, brash, and full of cursing. She practiced, talking to herself as she wandered not far behind. In truth, she had a lot to learn before she could be considered manly.

The boys stopped at a tavern and she waited outside, a bit hungry. Sitting on a rock, she dug through the inner pockets of Joseph’s robes and couldn’t believe her good fortune when she found a coin.

Cheerfully, she sat down at a far table and continued to study them as she ate a meal of bread, meat and cheese. They left the way they’d come carrying a pottery jug and wobbling on now unsteady legs.

A bit disappointed that she couldn’t follow them any longer, she strode with her new manly gait along the road as the sun set. If she walked briskly, she stayed warm. When she stopped, however, the sweat on her body turned cold.

As always, her thoughts turned to Bernardo. Perhaps if she returned to Soriano, he’d take her as mistress and keep her safe.

No. Her new man-like brain would refuse to think those thoughts. From now on she’d make her own way in the world and never be subjugated again. Besides, he was married and working on getting heirs while hopefully avoiding Lucella’s poisons.

Aurelia, however, needed to focus on survival. She practiced her stride, spoke out loud in a boisterous manner, and repeated the many blasphemes the boys had spouted. She even made up a few boisterous songs of her own. The male hand gestures they used were actually fun. More like a sinful dance. Laughing, she came to a fork in the road with an old Roman marker. Orvieto to the left. She followed the sign and made her way up the hill.

About half way up, past a cemetery with ancient markers, she stopped and moved to the side of the road to make way for a group of armed men.  She almost swallowed her tongue when she realized who it was.

She cursed as she’d been practicing. “Damn the bloody Savior and all the nails that hang him to a cross.”
Not bad.

Then she put her hand over her eyes, as if shielding them from bright light, and looked up. She hoped Borgia wouldn’t notice there wasn’t much sun because it was the only way to hide the pale blue eyes that’d give her away.

He glared down at her imperiously. “Where are you off to, young man?”

“To find a few wenches and some better ale. Fucking crap at the inn gives a man the shits. Just up the hill, are the finest taverns in the Papal States. All a man has to do is have the balls to walk there and get some.”

Borgia smiled. “Tell me. Have you seen a beautiful woman on the road? She has the fairest skin, pale blue eyes, and hair so light it’s almost white. I believe she may be dressed as a nun.”

Aurelia tugged on where balls might be if she was truly a man and snorted through her nose. She used the back of her hand to wipe off the bit of snot that came out and said, “If I found a woman like that on the road, I damned well wouldn’t be here talking to you. I’d be fuckin’ her against that tree.” She pointed toward the woods.

His Excellency snickered and tossed her a coin. “If you find her, save her for me and they’ll be more gold than you can count. I’ll be staying at the inn next to the church in Orvieto.”

She nodded, scratched her ass, and waved at him as he rode away. “I sure will. You can count on me. I won’t even touch her. I swear.”

Then she laughed until tears rolled down her face, making the few miles pass by quickly. In Orvieto, she used the coin for a hot meal and a bed, still snickering.

What would Bernardo think if he could see her now?

Blue-violet clouds hung low over the rolling hills near Florence and cold rain fell, rolling off his oiled-skin cloak.

“By God, how far can a woman go on foot?” Bernardo dug his heels into his mount. After a week of searching, he was beginning to lose hope of ever finding his wife.

Fulvio shrugged and pulled his hood up over his head. “With Aurelia, it seems anything is possible.”

“Did you believe what Father Dominic claimed? That she just left of her own accord?”

“No. You?” His friend appeared as worried as he.

“She’s too damned beautiful. That’s what I think. Someone tried to do her harm and she ran. Or, despite what he claimed, he told her Borgia was coming for her.”

Bernardo’s gut ached with worry. Any number of horrible things could happen to a woman alone. He watched both sides of the road, praying not to see her battered or worse yet, dead body.

Fulvio eyed him with a deep frown. “You need to eat before you drop off your horse.”

“What I need to do is find my wife.” He growled and raced ahead.

His shout sounded from behind, “What good will you be to her dead? Mortal men must sleep and eat. C’mon now. There’s a tavern ahead. We’ll get a quick bite and you can ask around. Our horses can rest and then we’ll be on our way.”

He stopped, knowing Fulvio was right and yet hating him for it. Every moment delayed was one more that he’d let Aurelia down.

He ate the sawdust-tasting tavern food, drank the stale beer, and then eyed a group of young acolytes drinking heavily at the next table. With a sigh, he picked up his plate and joined them.

The ever-alert Fulvio grimaced, no doubt gripping his sword’s hilt as he remained seated. As of late, inquiries of this sort had not gone well.

Bernardo threw some coins in the middle of the table. “Can I buy you gentlemen another round?”

Most eyed him suspiciously but the eldest who seemed to be in charge asked, “Why?”

“Just for conversation. My companion over there grows morose and I need some cheer.” He nodded back at frowning Fulvio who played his part well.

“Of cheer we have plenty. Of coin we have only a few left. Join us.”

Bernardo eased down onto the bench, donned a smile, and hoped it didn’t look as fake as it felt. He motioned over the tavern keep who brought them all another round.

“So, are you gents from Florence?” He swallowed almost choking on the worst ale he’d tasted in years.

“Si. Si,” A blond gent said. “I can’t make out your accent. You’re obviously a Spaniard. But your Italian is more from the Papal States.”

“My instructor when I was a child was Roman.” He spit. “Hate those bastards.” Then he raised a glass, chugged, and they all shouted and joined him.

After another round was poured, he asked, “Have any of you heard of the Dominican order?”

“Heard of them. We
are
them.” They started a well-known song of second sons, debauchery, and priesthood.

Bernardo joined in until at the eighth verse they stopped, words forgotten by all. He slapped them on the back. “’Tis good I ran into you. I too, am a second son.”

“How is it that you’re not priest?” The eldest one narrowed his gaze as he raised his mug.

“Simple. My eldest brother died.”

“Lucky dog.”

“Si. Si. Let’s drink to that.” Bernardo ordered another round. Thank God the boys had started drinking before him. He was already feeling the effects of the spirits while they still seemed clear-headed.

“So, Dominicans. You must know that old fart, Dominic? What an original name.” He snickered.

One of those who’d not yet spoken, moaned. “He whips you if you have one lewd thought in your confession and whips you if you have none.”

The others grunted their agreement.

“I’ve heard the nuns there are uglier than sin. Is that true?” Bernardo waggled his eyebrows and grabbed his crotch.

A young man with a bit of a lisp spoke up. “Si but there was one so fair...”

Bernardo’s heart beat faster. “Tell me about her.”

The dark haired young man closed his eyes. “She was blonde. Her hair, almost white. Eyes the palest blue. I’ve never seen the likes.”

“Is she still there?” Bernardo held back the need to put his hands around their necks until one confessed.

The eldest chuckled. “No. But we saw her make her escape.”

The others laughed heartily, elbowed each other and scoffed.

Bernardo felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “Why didn’t you help her?”

“You don’t understand. She was doing mighty fine on her own. Anything we could do would’ve diminished her attempts.” One wiped a tear of mirth with the back of his hand.

His mind was struck dumb. How could they make so light of his wife’s distress? “I don’t understand.”

“What is your interest, sir?” The eldest stood, eyes suddenly dark.

“Hold, my friend. She’s my sister, and my mother frets.”

“You look nothing alike, my
friend
.” His hand gripped a small knife, and he held it as if it was an extension of his arm.

“If I tell you the truth you’ll no doubt be convinced that I’m no man at all. The woman of whom you speak is truly my wife.” Bernardo feigned to be weak, and even shed a bit of a tear. He had no desire to fight with these drunken children.

The boys laughed enthusiastically. When they were done, the oldest asked. “How in God’s name did you lose her?”

“She’s keen. Slippery as an eel. Ethereal as a ghost.” He sighed.

The younger one continued in a bit of a whisper. “Then you’ll believe me when I tell you what she was about when last we spied her. It was three weeks ago, to the day. We always drink on Mondays. She followed us out of town in an oversized priest’s robe and a floppy hat that hid most of her features. If we’d not met her before, or seen her in church, we probably wouldn’t have paid her any mind.”

He laughed. “My God. She was hysterical. She spoke to herself as she followed us and mimicked our actions in the oddest of single-plays I’ve ever witnessed. By the time we went into the tavern, she was quite good at her manly walk. I suspect, wherever you find her, she’s now a man.”

Bernardo shook his head. “No doubt.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“Not at all. She’s done this before.” He rose. “I best be on my way. This road. Where does it lead? Where would be the most logical place for her to go?”

“Orvieto,” they all said in unison.

The oldest stopped him before he ran out the door. “There’s one more thing you should know.”

“Si?” Bernardo raised an eyebrow, a bit worried by the tone.

“Rodrigo Borgia has been asking for her as well.”

He couldn’t believe the cardinal still followed like a dog with a bone. “Did you tell him anything?”

“That Roman bastard? I would think not.” He snorted out his disdain, slapped Bernardo on the back and said, “Into the mouth of the wolf.”

“Fuck the wolf.” As Bernardo gave the expected retort, he prayed that he finally had found an ounce of good luck.

After a few miles, Fulvio stopped at the intersection of two ancient Roman roads and glanced forward at the mountain in the distance. The sun played off the front face of the church at the top of the city and it glowed gold. How appropriate, he murmured to himself. Gold for Aurelia.

“How do you suppose she is surviving?” Fulvio pulled out a skein of water, took a deep drink, and handed it off to share.

“What do you think? What’s her only known trade?”

“Mio Dio. You think she plays doctor?” His friend’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head, disbelieving.

“What else could she do?”

“But if she’s found out, the people there will surely kill her.”

“She doesn’t seem to have been born with the capacity to fear death. More than anything, she fears to be owned by a man.”

“And you intend to fix that?”

“Si. I will. And soon.”