Knight Errant (21 page)

The sound of rending cloth proved Antonio’s efficiency. “Here, Fratello.”

“Excellent.” Basti took the letters. “Wait for us outside.”

The man backed out into the hallway. “Your Beguine robes have undergone a change?” Basti lifted a delicately arched brow. He was small in stature, but he was perfectly proportioned. She had heard that his face had been used as the model for any number of angelic frescoes. After his appointment to Rome, ’twas how he had come to the pope’s attention.

“My apparel need not concern you,” she said politely. Her brain dashed between what she knew of Basti and how to escape him.

“Oh but it does.” He moved forward and took her chin between fingers and thumb.

Juliana’s skin crawled. Careful to remain calm, she held his gaze while she shifted her hands to grip the dagger. She knew from past encounters that Basti fed on the reactions of his victims. Could she use that to her advantage? How? “What do you want?” She kept her tone level, even though screams raged inside her.

He turned her face from side to side. “Such a pretty container for so much evil. Where is your lover? He must be made to see you for the foul creature you are.”

“I cannot tell you that.” If she could wound the priest, she might have enough time to escape out the window.

A beatific grin spread across Basti’s face. “You invite the wrath of
Il Mano de Dei
?”

She knew he would enjoy beating her to get the information he wanted. She also knew that Basti reckoned without her resolve. She would never betray Robert to the priest or any man. Nor would she be taken from the inn without a fight. “Nay.” Her denial was sweet. “I have no lover. Hence, I cannot tell you where he is.”

“Lies and disobedience,” the priest purred. “What a shame.” His fingers trailed across her throat to her shoulder. “Tell me,
sorella
, do you recant your Beguine heresies?”

“I cannot recant heresy that I have never uttered.”

“More lies.” He looked straight into her eyes. “You know I have seen you spreading the devil’s word among the women of Ghent. I have witnesses that you took that word to Palermo and tried to topple God’s church there.”

“I have done no such thing. I love God with all my heart and soul.” She tightened her hold on the dagger, ready to plunge it into his black heart if need be.

His fingers tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her closer.

Juliana broadened her smile. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt her.

“You are a woman, the lowest and vilest of God’s creations. What can you possibly know of love or souls except to envy that which you cannot have?”

The words hissed in her ear, the minty sweetness of his breath a counterpoint to the stench of his meaning.

“I have committed no sin.”

Basti laughed. “How quaint. Lies, disobedience, envy”—he cast a glance at the beds—“lust, and worst of all, heresy. Woman, you cannot fail to commit sin.” The smile left his face abruptly. “Come.”

He turned to pull her from the room.

Juliana struck. Her blade sank into his flesh and glanced off the shoulder bone.

Basti howled.

She ran for the window, scrambled onto the ledge, and looked down. There was nothing but a straight drop. Death from the fall or death from Basti? She took a deep breath and leaned forward.

• • •

Robert ran up the inn stairs late that afternoon. He had the horses. His safe conducts had been recognized, and more money rode in a pouch within the leather of his jerkin, just above his belt. Best of all he knew where Basti was. ’Twas very good news he had for Juliana.

They could leave the port now, tonight, much sooner than expected.

Basti was leaving today, too, for Rome and a heresy trial that would begin several weeks hence in Rome. The magistrate’s secretary had rejoiced because in the month or so while Basti resided in the port, the whores had all gone into hiding due to the priest’s vengeance in Verona.

“You do not know the story?” The man had been all too happy to relay the details. “That cursed Basti hates women so much, he rounded up all the whores there, took them to the square, and had their tits cut off while he watched.”

With a little hard riding, Robert and Juliana could pass through Rome while Basti’s attention was on the trial, then escape over the mountains and be far from the priest’s reach.

Robert topped the landing on the inn’s upper floor, forcing himself to slow to a walk. In less than a month’s time, he would deposit Juliana with Edward and be free. Bitterness flooded his mouth. Where had that come from? He could not possibly regret being rid of his smiling Beguine, could he? No, ’twas simply that freedom would be his at Juliana’s cost.

He reached the room and knocked in the pattern he had told Juliana to listen for that morning. Nothing. He knocked again. “Juliana!” he bellowed. “’Tis no time to play at games with me.” His hand fell to the latch to rattle the door. It lifted freely, and the door swung open.

A moment’s glance told him the room had been searched and she was not here. Foolish woman. Where could she possibly have gone? After last night, he was certain she understood the danger. He grabbed up the dagger that glinted on floor beside the window. Blood dried on the lower half of the blade. Robert’s heart froze—fear for Juliana nearly shattered it.

Whose blood? Juliana’s? If so, who attacked her?
Basti
!

It had to be. No one but that damned ship’s captain could know Juliana was here, and he had bargained with the priest’s minions. How long since she’d been taken, where exactly was she being held, and how to find answers to those questions? He’d start with the traitorous captain.

Robert raced from the inn. If the priest had her, then she was among the accused heretics he would try. If found guilty, she would burn at the stake. But even before that she would suffer untold tortures. The thought of Juliana broken in body and spirit chilled Robert’s soul. No one deserved the cruelty Basti was famous for, least of all her. He must find a way to rescue her. Even if it cost him his hope of heaven.

• • •

Dirty and weary, Robert rode into Rome’s center. The ship’s captain would not be sailing until his broken arm healed. Thank God in his panic Robert hadn’t forgotten to check for the small casket of coffee beans stashed under the bed at the inn. For some reason the casket had gone unnoticed. Probably because
Il Mano de Dei
believed Juliana to be the only prize.

Basti had a mere half a day’s start. Robert should have been able to catch the priest and wrest Juliana from him. A toll keeper who refused to recognize the seals on any of the safe conducts delayed Robert another half day. As a result, he pushed his horse too hard, and it came up lame. He had been unable to purchase or steal another. That put him a second day behind. Juliana had been with Basti a full three days now. The secretary’s gruesome story echoed in Robert’s memory.

He swallowed the bile that rose at the thought of Juliana suffering a similar or worse fate. The priest was to be feared, even by a warrior knight. What must Juliana be feeling? She was an innocent, not trained in battle to face countless threats without flinching. But he had seen her bravery more than once. Unfortunately, this encounter with Basti was a rare occasion when bravery might cause more retribution than cowardice.

Robert could not let that happen. He had developed a plan as he rode north. He could only pray that it would work.

Despite his dirt and weariness, he rode directly to the gates of Hadrian’s Tomb, where the church kept all its prisoners in Rome. There he demanded to see Basti. The guard sniffed at him. Robert had no doubt that he smelled as filthy as he felt.

“Come back tomorrow, after you have washed the dirt from your body and soul. I will seek after God’s Hand and leave word for you here.”

The guard turned away.

“Nay!” Robert objected, rattling the gates as if he would break them. “You will bring him to me now before he murders an innocent woman.”

The guard turned, positioned his halberd for attack, and strode forward until the point rested on Robert’s chest. “Do you wish to live? Do you wish to help this woman you speak of?”

He nodded but did not flinch. Juliana needed him, not his fear.

“Then leave and return tomorrow. All are guilty in Basti’s eyes. ’Twould mean my death and yours were I to disturb him while punishing his prisoners.”

“I must see him.” Robert spoke the words with a calm at odds with the terror that nearly overwhelmed him. How could he rescue Juliana if he could not confront her captor?

The guard lowered his weapon. “So you shall, but to do so now would cause Basti’s ire to fall on us and not save anyone.”

“Please.” Robert was not used to begging, but for Juliana he would do that and more.

The guard shook his head. “No, for both our lives, do as I say and come back tomorrow.

“The risk is that great?”

The guard nodded.

“Very well.” Wishing he’d achieved a different result, Robert left. He could not help Juliana if he were dead.

He found a nearby inn that offered beds and a bathhouse and shared bed space that night with a parcel of pilgrims bound for the Holy Lands, as he had once been. Hopefully, they found greater peace and absolution than he had.

Tired as he was, he slept poorly. Visions of his father dressed in bloodied priestly robes, Juliana dead at his feet, haunted his dreams. He rose with the dawn, found the bathhouse, shook awake the sleepy attendant, and offered him a florin if fresh clothing could be found before the bath was finished.

Clean and feeling much more presentable but worried beyond belief, Robert made his way back to the prison, purchasing bread along the journey from a lad pulling a baker’s cart. He finished the loaf just as he approached the gate guard. ’Twas not the same man.

“The night guard, did he leave word for me about Fra Basti?”

“S
i, signore.
He said that I should take you to see Fra Marco instead. Follow me.”

After winding through a maze of corridors, Robert found himself standing before a tonsured priest.

“How may I help you, my son?”

“I seek news of Fra Basti.”

“Ah yes, the night guard mentioned you to me. If you truly wish to meet with God’s Hand, you are in luck. Fra Basti is even now within the prison. The trial of heretics begins in a few weeks, and Fra Basti is trying to get the poor bastards to recant and save their souls.”

“’Tis not Basti I need to see so much as one of his prisoners. Do you know how that might be managed?” Robert kept his tone low, but still his voice shook with urgency to get to Juliana.

“No one sees the heresy prisoners until the trial, save
God’s Hand
and his minions. Should you try, you would bring Basti’s interest on yourself.”

Robert eyed the man. His words made little sense, unless this priest opposed Basti. A spark of hope rose in Robert’s breast. How to discover whether Fra Marco might be an ally or not?

“I am not eager to meet Basti, but I must try.” Robert risked a bit of honest humility.

“Why would you do such a thing, if you don’t wish it?” Fra Marco asked.

Encouraged by the priest’s answer, Robert decided to risk more. “Suffice to say that honor is involved.” That and more guilt than any one man should bear for his careless guard of Juliana. He should have taken her with him. At least then he would have been available to defend her.

“Oh, honor.” The brother looked him up and down. “You are a knight, and of a certainty honor is important to you. I also realize that wise knights know when to sacrifice principle to survival. I suggest you choose caution over honor when dealing with Basti.”

“I do not plan to challenge the priest.”

Fra Marco chuckled. “Nor do I imagine you would. However, you do not strike me as a subtle man, and Fra Basti is a master of subtlety. He will take your most innocent remark and find great evil in it. You would be in prison with the heretics within the blink of an eye.”

“You seem to know him well.”

“To my regret, I do.”

“Would you be willing to advise me?”

“I will do what I can. How had you thought to approach Basti?”

“Would he be susceptible to a bribe?”

“The church rewards him too well for his battle against heresy for him to risk losing that by taking a bribe.”

Resistance to bribery should have been obvious. Robert cursed himself for a fool but refused to be daunted.

“Would threats be likely to intimidate the man?” A man who tortured often did so to mask his fears because he lacked true courage

“Not empty ones, and the services he provides to certain papal officials protect him from any serious threat.”

What could God’s Hand fear enough to force him to release Juliana?

“Does the man have no weaknesses?”

“Only his passion for torturing the female prisoners.”

“He does not torture the men.”

“No, he leaves that to others. He enjoys more watching the women suffer. He often lets them wait in isolation, to worry about what will happen. After a few days, sometimes a week, the prisoners are so fearful, they babble incoherently and Basti is able to get them to do and say anything he wishes. After that period of torture by anticipation his favorite activity is watching the guards rape the women into submission. By the time the guards are done with them, the women wish for death. If the guards enjoy a woman too much, Basti considers her so irredeemable that he often obliges by forcing through a death sentence at the tribunal. He believes all women to be evil and deserving only of death or slavery.”

Robert shuddered. ’Twas what his father had said after confessing. Women were evil, and he enjoyed seeing evil suffer. “Does no one try to stop this? Do his superiors know?”

“They try not to see.”

“And their blindness condones.”

“Basti convinces them that the women are heretics also guilty of other grievous sins. What matter if their suffering begins here or in Hades?” The brother shrugged, as if the answer to the question had no import.

“What if a female prisoner were not a grievous sinner or a heretic?” The thought of Juliana in pain hurt Robert immeasurably, twisting in his belly like a fatal wound. Panic raced in his heart.