Rose Red (36 page)

“Well, I have no intention of discovering if
it can be done,” Rosalinda said, one hand over her abdomen. “I
might have dared the climb down from the top last spring, but now I
have more important matters on my mind.”

“I didn’t mean that you should try it,”
Bianca said, her eyes still on the rocks and the waterfall. Her
voice was soft and wistful when she continued. “Up there is where I
first saw Vanni. He was clambering around on the cliff, near the
waterfall. I wonder if he was trying to get down to the cave?”

“How would he know of it?” Rosalinda asked.
“He was unfamiliar with this area, and we have agreed that the cave
cannot be seen in springtime, when there is more water.”

“He was up on the cliff the second time I met
him, too,” Bianca went on as if Rosalinda had not spoken. “Now that
I think about it, he appeared to be searching for something. Both
times, when he saw me, he grabbed a tree branch so he could swing
down to where I was. What could he have been looking for up
there?”

“We will never know,” Rosalinda said. “You
did just renounce Vanni, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Bianca sighed. “You are right. It’s
time to go. Time to put Vanni out of my mind.”

Together they started toward the open
meadowland and the sapling where they had tied their horses. Bianca
glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the waterfall. In
the next moment, her hand came down on Rosalinda’s wrist, with her
fingernails digging in so hard that Rosalinda cried out and stopped
where she was.

“Rosalinda!” Bianca hissed.

“Let me go, Bianca. You’re hurting me.”

“Someone is up there.”

“Where?” Rosalinda managed to pull her arm
away, but only because Bianca was so fascinated by what she was
seeing that she relaxed her grip a little.

“In the cave.” Bianca spoke softly, as if she
was afraid she would be overheard. “Someone just looked out of the
cave.”

“That can’t be,” Rosalinda declared. Then she
fell silent, staring openmouthed when a figure appeared on the
ledge just outside the cleft in the rocks. Whoever was up there was
carrying a cloth-covered bundle wrapped inside a coarse net. The
corners of the net were drawn together and fastened to a heavy
rope. As the sisters watched, half hidden as they were on the path
toward their horses, the figure on the ledge grasped the rope and
began to let down the bundle.

“What is he doing?” Bianca whispered.

“We can see what he’s doing,” Rosalinda
whispered back, somewhat impatiently. “What I want to know is, what
does he have in that bundle?”

“It’s going to fall into the pool,” Bianca
exclaimed.

“No, it’s not. Look, he’s swinging the rope
so the bundle will miss the water.”

With a heavy thud, the bundle landed on dry
ground just beside the pool. The man on the ledge let go of the
rope and vanished back into the cave. The freed rope dropped onto
the bundle and as it hit the cloth covering the bundle, one corner
of the cloth flew open. Out of the opening tumbled a loop of large,
creamy pearls.

“It’s a necklace,” Bianca whispered, seeing
the pearls.

“Yes, but whose necklace?” asked
Rosalinda.

Both girls fell silent then, for the little
man had just reappeared on the ledge with a new length of rope, to
let down a second bundle in the same way as the first. When the
bundle was on the ground, he grabbed the rope, which at its upper
end was fastened to something solid inside the cave. Holding on
with both hands, he let himself over the edge and slid down the
rope from ledge to ground.

“That is the most amazing thing I have ever
seen,” Bianca whispered.

“Bianca, do you recognize him?” Rosalinda
asked. “I do. He is the little man we pulled out of the river last
spring, and later out of that very pool at the bottom of the
falls.”

“Niccolo Stregone,” Bianca breathed.

“The same. From what we have heard of him and
what we have just observed, I would guess that he has been hiding
stolen goods in that cave.”

“But how did he know of the cave?” Bianca
asked.

“Never mind that now,” Rosalinda said. “We
need the men-at-arms. I’ll stay here and watch him, so we’ll know
in which direction he has gone if he leaves before you return.
Bianca, mount your horse and ride toward the villa. Surely, you
will see one of the sentries along your way. Send whomever you meet
here at once and then ride on and alert Bartolomeo.”

“I won’t leave you here alone,” Bianca
said.

“Someone has to go, and you have been warning
me all day about riding too fast,” Rosalinda replied. “I promise, I
will stay hidden among the trees. I’ll be perfectly safe. Please
hurry, Bianca. That terrible man can be up to no good. Whatever he
is doing, we have to stop him.”

“I do regret disappointing a lady, but you
won’t be able to stop me.” An arm snaked around Rosalinda’s neck
and a dagger point pressed against the vein in her throat.

“Did you think I couldn’t see you from up
there, on the ledge?” Niccolo Stregone asked. “You imagined you
were hidden among these bushes, but from that height I could see
you with no difficulty. And while you stupid females argued about
who should ride for help, I was able to creep up behind you.”

“
Let my
sister go,” Bianca cried. “Please, you mustn’t hold her that way.
You don’t understand. She is—”

“No, Bianca!” Rosalinda screamed, terrified
that Bianca would reveal her pregnancy in hope of eliciting mercy
from Stregone. Rosalinda was sure he was incapable of mercy. The
information would only give him more power over her. “Just be
quiet, I beg you!”

“Always a good rule for a female,” Stregone
said with a sneer. “Do be quiet, Bianca.”

‘‘What are you going to do to us?” Bianca
asked him.

“I knew you would not fail me.” Stregone’s
lips drew back over his teeth in a smile that was not a smile at
all, but a threat of violence to come. “I had a feeling the three
of us would meet here again, for the last time.”

“What do you mean, the last time?” Bianca
demanded.

“I suppose it is possible that we will meet
yet once more,” Stregone said. “In hell. If you believe in hell.
You two will be there long before I am.”

“H-hell?” Bianca was unable to voice more
than a croak.

“I am going to kill you,” Stregone told her,
speaking as if he were making pleasant conversation.

Rosalinda had both hands on his arm, trying
to pull it away from her throat so she could breathe. Stregone
loosened his grip a little and she took a noisy gulp of air. She
could see how frightened Bianca looked. But whether her sister was
terrified or not, Rosalinda knew that Bianca was not going to leave
her alone with Niccolo Stregone. Therefore, there was no hope of
Bianca getting to her horse and riding to alert the guards. Nor, to
be truthful, would Rosalinda be willing to leave Bianca to
Stregone’s nefarious intentions if she were the one able to get
away.

Their only chance of rescue lay in making a
disturbance loud enough that someone would hear them and come to
investigate. Rosalinda decided she would make as much noise as she
could, as soon as she could do so without being strangled into
permanent silence. In the meantime, while she waited for a chance
to scream as loudly as possible, she tried to think of a way to
gain enough control over the situation to delay Stregone’ s bloody
plans for her and her sister, and for her baby.

“Let Rosalinda go.” Bianca stood white-faced
but remarkably defiant for a young woman who was usually timid and
exceedingly cautious. “Kill me instead.”

Rosalinda suppressed a cry. Bianca was
willing to offer herself as a sacrifice in order that Rosalinda and
her unborn child might live. There could be no greater proof of her
sister’s love. But even before he spoke, Rosalinda knew what
Stregone’s response would be.

“No, no,” he said, as if he were reassuring
Bianca. “I want both of you dead. First I slit this one’s throat
while I hold her. Then it will be easy to kill you. You are the
weak sister, Bianca. You will stay to weep over Rosalinda’s body
and, while you do, I will plunge my dagger into your heart.”

“Before you kill us,” Rosalinda said, trying
to put some authority into her voice, “tell us why. We have done no
harm to you. In fact, we have saved your life on two
occasions.”

“You have repeatedly interfered with me and
what I was trying to do,” Stregone snarled. “Don’t you know, you
foolish girls, that it is a mistake to risk your own lives to save
someone else unless there is an immediate benefit to be reaped for
yourself from your action?”

“I think it is a noble thing to do, whether
one is rewarded or not,” Bianca stated in a surprisingly firm
voice.

“Little you know,” said Stregone with yet
another sneer.

“What is in those bundles you dropped from
the cave?” Rosalinda asked, to keep him talking.

“Gold,” said Stregone. “Jewels. A bit of gold
plate, but not much, since it is bulky and can be difficult to move
expeditiously. Coins, strings of pearls, and unset jewels are
always preferable to plate or other large pieces. Those two bundles
contain my treasure.”

“How did you know about the cave?” Bianca
seemed to understand the need to play for time, to delay Stregone’s
murderous intentions in hope of circumventing them. “I would be
interested in knowing about that.”

“Would you?” said Stregone, looking pleased
at the question. “Well, I will satisfy your female curiosity. You
see, it was a clever scheme on my part.”

Each time he spoke, Stregone loosened his
grip on Rosalinda’s throat just a little bit. She kept both of her
hands on his forearm, pulling steadily downward against his
strength. It was possible that she might get free of him and, if
she did, she would have no compunction about using on him the small
knife she carried hidden in her skirt.

“For your information,” Stregone said to
Bianca, “I was born in the village that lies along the old road,
just through the mountain pass to the north of this valley. I do
not boast of it, you understand. It was a squalid beginning, of
which I am not proud.”

“That doesn’t explain how you knew about the
cave,” Rosalinda said. She pulled a little harder on Stregone’s
arm, forcing it down by another inch or so.

“I was a scrawny youth, always small for my
age and often tormented and laughed at by the other boys because I
was so small,” Stregone answered her. “As a result, I spent a lot
of time wandering alone through these hills and thinking of ways to
revenge myself on those stupid village fools. I discovered the cave
about this time of year, when the water was low, as it is now. I
was just fourteen. Shortly thereafter my father died, and the local
priest suggested I leave the village to make

my way in the world by my wits, which are
considerable.”

“I am sure they are,” Rosalinda said. “My
sister and I have had ample evidence of your intelligence.” Just a
little more steady pressure on his arm and then a sudden jerk, and
she ought to be free. She took a deep breath and tried to relax all
of her muscles so Stregone would not guess what she was about to
do.

“I never forgot the cave,” Stregone said,
looking toward it. “Often and often as the years passed, I have
returned to deposit my hoarded wealth there, in those secret
chambers behind the waterfall. That cave is safer than any bank.
Never was I disturbed while I was about my business in this hidden
glade, until you two appeared, interfering, upsetting my well-laid
plans.” He glared at Bianca, his full attention on her for the
moment.

Rosalinda seized the opportunity. Suddenly
tightening her fingers on Stregone’s forearm, she pulled downward
as hard as she could. At the same time she stamped hard on the top
of Stregone’s foot. With a yell of pain and surprise, he let her
go. Instantly, she whipped out her knife.

“Rosalinda, be careful!” Bianca screamed.

“Run, Bianca! Run for help! Call the
sentries!”

Stregone slashed at Rosalinda with his
dagger, ripping the sleeve of her doublet and drawing blood from
her arm. Rosalinda knew she had to get the dagger away from him.
She circled him, looking for a chance, copying the movements of the
men-at-arms whom she had watched while they practiced this kind of
hand-to-hand combat. But Stregone was experienced and swift, and he
had no scruples about injuring a woman. He slashed at Rosalinda
again, nicking her arm a second time, and blood spurted. Rosalinda
was too intent on her opponent to feel any pain.

Bianca, however, was fully aware of what was
happening to her sister. She shrieked, and shrieked again.
Rosalinda’s nerves jangled from the tension and the sudden, shrill
noise. Stregone did not so much as flicker one eyelash. He just
kept his dark, unblinking gaze on Rosalinda’s face, watching her
eyes to see what her next move would be.

Suddenly, the clearing was crowded with men.
Francesco was standing beside Rosalinda, threatening Stregone with
his own dagger. Quick as lightning, Stregone dove between Rosalinda
and Francesco, and stabbed Francesco. Then Francesco was on the
ground with Stregone’s dagger in his ribs. Bianca rushed to
Rosalinda’s side, looked down at Francesco, and began to
scream.

At first Rosalinda thought Bianca was
screaming at her. It took a moment to realize that Bianca was
looking at Niccolo Stregone, crying out an old, never-forgotten
anguish as if it had only just happened.

“It was you!” Bianca yelled at Stregone.
“You! You did it! I saw you there, in the reception room! And I saw
your dagger planted in my father’s chest, the same way it is buried
in Francesco now. I remember that fancy hilt. I recall hearing you
boast to my father that there is no other like it. You killed my
father with your own hand!”