For
a moment the world seemed to stop as it had on that far-off night in the Eagle.
His lips moved soundlessly; then he spoke my name in a strange choking voice
and rose hastily to his feet in the only ungraceful motion I have ever seen him
make; then somehow I was in his arms, laughing and crying together.
"I
love you. I love your" He was whispering it against my lips, breathing the
words into my mouth as he kissed me, and I clung to him, past speech and almost
past thought.
When
at last he lifted his head, his eyes were warm and slitted, and the white
ridges of muscle were gone from his mouth.
"You
love me, too." Even a hint of the old imperiousness was back in his voice.
"Say it."
I
said, "I love you," and in that instant my boats were burned behind
me forever. He made an incoherent little sound and, cupping my face between his
hands, kissed me with a sort of punishing tenderness that made my senses swim.
We were both shaking from head to foot when at last I rested in his arms. I
caressed him, loving him, while his eyes searched my face hungrily.
"Why
would you not admit it?" he demanded.
"I
thought you would hold me as cheaply as all the others if I told you—I have
pride, too. But if I had known you loved me, I would have been as free with my
tongue as I was with my body."
"I
thought you must have guessed it." There was tenderness in the smile that
touched his cruel mouth. "Did you not? Every spy at court was buzzing with
it before I silenced the greater part and scotched the less—my hoary
great-uncle knew it that first day, and that was why he tried to spirit you away.
Or did you think I always left my father's feasts to seek out a face I had seen
in the Via Croce?"
"I
did not know how you got your mistresses," I retorted.
"More
easily"—his hand cupped my chin—"than I have gotten my wife."
Breathless
and half-drowning in his kiss, I made one last effort to recover my sanity.
"Your shoulder, Domenico, your shoulder."
The
black eyes glimmered down at me. "Will you only call me by my name for my
hurt's sake? I will take forty such pinpricks to hear you name me."
I
was about to return a laughing answer when the door beside us opened again and
the captain of the guard was standing there, a knowing expression on his face.
"My
lord Duke, the Duke of Ferrenza is safely stowed." His eyes rested
ironically on the arm which held me bruisingly hard against Domenico.
"What orders have you now?"
Domenico's
hold slackened, and he said sharply, "Are all your men in readiness?"
"They
are mustering now. They will be ready in half an hour."
"Then
summon my own men, and tell them we ride out in half an hour. Call me when that
is done."
The
man nodded briskly and went out.
As
the door closed, Domenico looked down at me and said, "There is no time to
waste, Felicia. Come." His lips touched mine lightly. "We will fire
Gratiana and her men out of my city."
I
knew myself forgotten as he turned away. Now the thought of revenge on his
hated stepmother was making him blaze with inward excitement; but even as I
gazed ruefully after him, he checked and turned back to me, holding out his
uninjured hand.
"Come,"
he repeated softly, and I went to him and put my hand in his.
My
horse's hooves bit into the churned earth as I urged it down the slope and away
from the frowning shadow of the watchtower. It was late afternoon and the sun's
fierceness was ebbing, but my tunic and breeches were sticky with sweat and
dust from the long, parching hours of waiting. The horses were listless and
sluggish and had been so ever since the noise within the city walls had faded
to silence. They had been restive and nervous at first, but they soon calmed
and began to graze indifferently.
Since
the gray hour just before dawn, when Amerighi's men had ridden down these
slopes toward Fidena and left us behind, Baldassare Lucello and I had talked
together or been silent, paced restlessly or sat still, trying to divert our
own minds and each other's from what was happening below. Domenico had given
Baldassare command of half a dozen bored and surly mercenaries to guard me when
it became obvious that Santi had no intention of staying behind in safety when
he might be fighting. Saddled with me as he might have been with some
inconvenient but valuable piece of luggage, Baldassare had discharged his duty
with discretion and tact. He had chattered like a magpie when I asked him to
talk, fallen silent when he realized I was no longer listening, and now and
again when he saw my fears plain in my face, he did his best to allay them.
"The
Spanish will not be expecting a counterattack yet," he had assured me as
the last muffled hoofbeats died away into the darkness. "We crossed the
pope's lands so swiftly that we will have overtaken their estimations. You
shall see, His Grace will surprise the duchess's forces."
"Swiftly!"
I had stared at him in disbelief. "It has taken five days more to travel
here than it did to reach Ferrenza, even with the help of Duke Niccolo's
safe-conduct!"
"True,
but we were few when we set out and carried no arms and no supplies—the
cannonry and the sumpter wagons are what slowed us down, and even so we have
made better speed than armies commonly do. We could have forced a greater pace,
but that would have meant going into battle without guns and with tired and
hungry soldiers. And you must own, madam, that we have fared better on this
journey than we did on our first."
I
had nodded reluctantly, not truly convinced. "But still he—we may fail.
Fidena is a strong fortress...."
"So
it is, but the duchess is a poor general. She lets her passions rule her
head." Baldassare smiled with a hint of reminiscence. "When she
should have kept her troops fast within the city, she sent them out scouring
the countryside for my lord's Grace. She has not set men in the old watchtower,
because she does not think it important. I swear to you, madam, that it was
Lord Sandra's brain which steered the duchess's army. Now that he is dead, she
will be confounded quickly."
I
had not believed him then but had forced a smile and let it go. It was only as
the hours passed and I could see the turmoil outside the city gates and hear
the crash of cannon and the shouts of men borne on the humming air that my
fears came back to overwhelm me afresh.
Worst
of all was the sheer monotony of waiting. It was impossible to tell what was
happening at so great a distance, and the attacking soldiers made no more than
an unrecognizable stir of activity against the bleak gray walls; the battle
sounds were a mere meaningless discord punctuated by the roar and thud of the
guns. After a while I turned my back on the city, too sick with fear to try any
longer to ascertain what was going on.
Again
and again as the hours passed, I thought: I could ride down to the city now and
no one would notice that one more boy had joined the fighting. Yet the memory
of Domenico's set face as he held me during the night before we reached Fidena,
his feverish lovemaking and broken murmurs, prevented me. I had given him, in
spirit if not in words, my promise to wait, and I knew that if I broke my faith
with him, I would never be able to restore it.
I
had begged him to command the fighting from a place of safety, and when he
refused that, I had thought I was to go with him into battle. Now, when I knew
he loved me, I could hardly bear him to be out of my sight. It had not crossed
my mind that injured as he was he would insist on fighting. But he had insisted,
ablaze with his desire for revenge, and had seemed not to hear my pleas to be
allowed to follow him. Then, when I had turned away from him to hide my
helpless tears, he had gripped my arms hard and twisted me to face him.
"I
will not have you hazard your life, Felicia. It is too precious to me."
"And
is yours less so to me?" I demanded brokenly. "Domenico, whether you
live or die, let me share it!"
The
bright head had moved in negation. "If I could be certain it would be so,
you should stay fast by my side; but Gratiana's men will take no account of any
man's will. Death by your side"—he had touched my wet cheek—"would be
a fine thing, but if you were killed and I survived..."—there had been an
odd, harsh note to his voice—"I should be back in hell."
I
had thrown my arms around him and held him, and he had taken that as my
consent. So he had left me, in the midst of a discontented little group of
soldiers at the foot of the old watchtower, and had ridden off into the
half-light of the morning. All I had gained was his promise to let me know how
he fared, and I had doubted that he would remember.
But
he did send. A little while after the sun came up, just as the Ferrenzan cannon
began to bombard the city gates, I saw a single horseman break away from the attacking
army and come spurring towards the tower. It was one of the Cabrian pages, wild
with excitement, who poured out to Baldassare an account of the duke's
attacking strategy.
"They
have mounted an attack on the main gates, messire, with fifty men and one of
the guns, but the duke and Messire Giovanni plan to storm the wall by the
northwestern gate. They say it is lower there, and the ports for trading are
not so well maintained for defense as they are on the southern wall."
Baldassare
shrugged, and for a moment I glimpsed the courtier who scorned to admit the
existence of an area so squalid as the trading quarter of the city.
"Messire Giovanni will know," he agreed. "Are there any
hurt?"
"Only
four or five. Our troops had reached the walls before their crossbowmen could
raise the alarm, and now..."
"Is
the duke safe?" I could not control the question. The boy started and
crossed himself almost superstitiously.
"Yes,
madam, he leads the attack on the northeast wall."
With
a small cry I turned away from him, holding my arms across my breast as if to
contain a physical pain. He cannot be killed now, I told myself. He must not.
The
other men beckoned the boy over and began to question him more closely while I
stood with closed eyes, fighting my inward despair. A light touch on my arm
made me open my eyes again.
"I
spoke with one of Ferrenza's men yesterday," Baldassare said quietly,
"and he told me he had been champion of his regiment with the pike and
halberd. They are all such men, I believe; each is an expert in his own
province, and they have served together a long time."
"Yes."
I spoke with an effort. "Duke Niccolo told me as much the night we... the
night we supped with him. I know they are very skillful, messire, but I cannot
help being afraid." I had more courage once, I thought suddenly, when
there was only myself to fear for. But love for Domenico made me suddenly,
terribly vulnerable.
Baldassare
nodded. "I have orders to take you to Diurno if the worst should
happen," he said. "You will be safe with the archbishop."
A
gasp of hysteria was startled out of me. Safe with the archbishop! I would as
soon trust myself to the Spanish army. I smiled at Baldassare, wondering why he
should think it was my safety I feared for. But I knew that Domenico had made
the only provision he could; if he were defeated, there would be no more
allies, no other safe place to send me.
But
now, after what seemed like an eternity, a rider had come to summon us to the
city. I could hardly believe in the reality of what was happening. After such
an agony of suspense, in which every distant sound seemed like the death cry of
the man I loved, I felt as though this were my personal hell: to be doomed to
wait forever, while the sun stood still in the sky, and my whole being, body
and mind, was racked with continual dread. My heart was pounding as I rode, and
I schooled myself to patience, trying not to communicate my tenseness to the
mare.
Baldassare
spurred level and touched my arm. "Do not fear, madam. You would not have
been sent for if it were not a victory—the Spanish could not know that His
Grace brought you with him."
"But
the duke..." I bit my lip. "I do not care for victory or defeat, so
long as the duke is safe. Are you sure there was no message from him,
messire?"
He
shook his head. "None, madam. Captain Valdares sent word only that it was
safe for us to enter the city."
I
nodded and was silent. I wanted to scream at him for the very calmness with
which he sought to soothe me, but I knew that it masked an apprehension almost
as great as my own.
Now
there was no sign of activity on the city walls other than the triumphant
flutter of the silver hawk above the gates. I looked up as we drew near them
and saw the frowning walls stretching high above me, seeming to fill the
fast-dimming blue of the sky. Oily smoke rolled lazily over the ground, and the
earth beneath the horses' hooves was scorched and bare.
The
great gates hung askew, splintered and twisted, and the stone archway showed
new cracks. It was hard to tell what had been wrought in this day's fighting
and what was the result of Gratiana's own siege. As I rode under the arch, I
was struck by the unnatural silence within, and the sight that met my eyes as I
emerged from the shadow made me rein in the mare involuntarily.