The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance (15 page)

Even though her uncle had tried to kill her, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to see him torn to pieces in front of her face. She held her tongue, however, and let Bernardo tuck her close as they circled up and around the cistern stairs.

In the open piazza, standing in wet clothes, her teeth chattered when she asked, “C-can’t you just throw him in the dungeon?”

“Not very likely. He killed my parents. Tried to kill you. Started a war.” With each phrase, Bernardo pushed Pierpaolo into the street.

When the people recognized Bernardo, they cheered and the noise grew until it came from every sector. At the same time, men grabbed her uncle and walked him up the hill at the point of their swords.

More and more gathered in the street, shouting, “Death to Nardini. Throw him off the tower.”

She followed under Bernardo’s arm, fearful. Was she not Nardini as well? Tears rolled down her cheek, knowing she was correct in thinking that she’d need to leave Soriano as soon as possible.

Someone in the crowd pushed her hard and she went down onto her knees. She would’ve been trampled had Bernardo not lifted her into his arms.

When she turned her head, her nose hit his chest and she inhaled his scent. Her body reacted with lust and she was wracked with guilt. Dear God, how could she be responsible for these feelings? Just being in his arms did such sinful things to her.

“I really don’t want to see my uncle tortured, Bernardo.” She closed her eyes.

“His death will be quick but we must watch. It’d not be good for either one of us to seem sympathetic to his cause.” His face was grim as he cradled her in his arms and walked them up the hill.

Antonio, however, was caught up with the wildness in the crowd. With a grand smile on his face, he slapped Bernardo on the back and waved. Women cheered from the upper story windows, some with babies latched to their breasts. Then they reached the castle portcullis and the piazza where not many hours earlier Aurelia had been stripped to the waist.

It all seemed so very wrong to have such mixed feelings. They dragged the screaming Pierpaolo to the top of the highest tower overlooking the ravine. His face was skewed and his hose wet from where he had pissed himself.

“What say you?” A man shouted.

The crowd roared. “Throw him off!  Kill the bastard!”

Her uncle shrieked horribly the whole way down.

The fine people of Soriano cheered.

Shivering uncontrollably, Aurelia stretched a toe to the road. “Put me down. I’m going to be sick.”

Bernardo set her upright and she used the opportunity to slip away into the crowd. He cried out for her, but she was already half way down the hill by then, carried away by the parade of celebrating people.

Quickly she traded her fine cloak for a dress, changed in an alley, and sobbing, left Soriano. He’d be better off without her. The people here would never accept her, not even as his mistress. It was so clear now.

The old vechio’s yellow cat meowed as if nothing were amiss and followed Aurelia as she walked under the arch and away from the village forever.

Antonio shouted out, “Awake, Signore Carvajal. The Papal Guard arrives.”

Sleeping with eyes open, Bernardo stirred and watched ten men ride under the castle gate and into the piazza. He’d vowed not to close his lids again until he’d found his wife. Why had she run? She’d been acting strangely but he figured with sleep, she’d recover and they’d start their lives anew.

A man dressed in the finest of leather jerkins, dismounted and approached. He studied the blood stains under his feet and touched the weapons of the dead stacked high against the wall. Then devoid of all emotion, he peered up at the tower and back down at Bernardo.

With a curt nod he said, “His Holiness sends his greetings from Rome as does Cardinal Borgia. You are Bernardo Carvajal, son of Dideco?”

“Si. Your horses can be fed and cared for, over there. You and your men can house at the garrison, the long gray building. Food will be prepared by sunset. Forgive my lack of hospitality but it’s been less than a day since the invasion.” He pointed toward the open gate, hoping they’d all go back the way they’d come.

When the man made no indication of leaving, Bernardo sighed. “Just you may enter, not the rest.”

A prominent Roman nose followed Bernardo into the main hall where guards slept upon the wedding rubble.

They woke, stood at attention, and clicked the bottom of their pikes into the marble floor in unison. Bernardo slapped each one the back and added a word of thanks. He’d be ever-grateful for the loyalty of his father’s men. They’d kept his Aurelia safe while he’d fought for the life of the city at the gate.

He righted a trestle table, turned over a bench, and sat.

The visitor lowered beside him and whistled through his teeth. “I’m Captain Rosso. This is far worse than I was led to believe.”

Bernardo held his breath wondering if he was about to be relieved from his post. “All the nobles who participated in the murder have gone into hiding. That is, the few that still live. Have no worries. I’ll flush out the rest.”

The captain paused to stare at where a huge rock had been catapulted into the keep and the subsequent gaping hole in the wall. “I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your father and his wife.”

Bernardo sighed. “Thank you. Let it be known that they fought fiercely to the end to protect the keep.” It was better to lie than share how his father’s last act was to invite Pierpaolo to drink with him in his chambers.

“Si. Si. Of course.” The captain stared blankly.

What was on his mind?
Damnation
. Bernardo had neither patience nor time for political niceties. He needed to go out again and search for his wife.

One of the young girls of the keep raced out of the kitchen and curtsied. She flicked open a white linen, then placed cheese and wine on the table.

The smile was forced but Bernardo gave it all the same. “Grazie. Tell your mama thank you, as well.”

She smiled shyly and skipped out of sight. It struck him as odd that he didn’t know her name or that of many of his servants. Something else he needed to add to his future plans.

The captain speared a slice of cheese with his knife and leaned forward.

Finally, thought Bernardo, he speaks.

“There’s a rumor of a miracle. That a glowing angel, disguised as an old crone, sounded the first alarm. Then she fought with you at the gates. Saw to the death of Pierpaolo. His Holiness wishes for me to investigate.”

Is he serious?
Bernardo kept his tone neutral as he studied the man’s countenance hidden behind a dark beard. “I’ve heard the same rumor, signore. In that I was locked in the dungeon when the ring at Bastia Hill sounded, I can neither confirm nor deny such wonders.”

The man frowned and swept his arm over the hall’s destruction. “I also heard it said that you would not consummate your marriage with Lucella Santamaria.”

Bernardo’s temper flared. What right did this man have to come into the village and judge him without any previous knowledge of what went on? “Did you also hear how her grandmother lied about her menses? How Lucella attempted to poison the entire town?”

He stood and glared, waiting for the captain to drop his gaze. When he did, Bernardo added, “I’ve already granted her request to return to Spain and my cousin has seen to it the marriage was annulled. You can tell His Holiness and Borgia that a missive is on the way to Isabella and Ferdinand.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “And the Nardini woman? This Aurelia?”

Bernardo’s heart cracked at the mention of her name. He turned to the wall and paced, rather than have the man see the pain that he couldn’t hide.

“I’m done with her.”
Rather she is done with me.
“Enough of this politeness. Are you going to ask me to surrender Soriano or not? Am I to be dragged off to Rome in chains?”

As he said the words, he realized that it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered without sweet Aurelia beside him. Why had she run and where had she gone?

He’d searched body after body outside the gate and sent Fulvio asking but as of yet, none had seen her. He tried to focus on the captain’s response.

“Relieve you from duty? Why would you think that? The pope is going to grant Soriano the honor of
Fidelitas.
No other village has ever held such high esteem.”

Not feeling particularly worthy, Bernardo cleared his throat. “The battle won was not my doing. The people are proud and ancient. They’re more free men than vassal. They fought mightily for themselves and their livelihood.”

“But without a clever man at the head of the garrison with well-trained forces, you and I wouldn’t be here speaking. Instead I’d be outside the gate wondering how to get His Holiness back his lands.”

“True. But still, so many lie dead.”

“That guilt, my friend, does not belong to you but to the man they tossed off the tower. I saw his body there picked at by the crows. May his evil soul rot in hell. His Holiness has declared that we should have a festival in four weeks. It’ll coincide with the birth of Christ. By then, you’ll have found the miracle, no? The pope’s insisted on meeting her.”

“I tell you. I don’t even know if a miracle exists.”

“I suggest you find one before he arrives.” The captain scratched his beard, yawned, and stood. “Borgia, too, has shown an interest.”

Bernardo worked to keep his face impartial. “She could be the angel Uriel and has retreated to heaven. Perhaps it was just the old vechio of Bastia.”
I know it was my wife and I’ll be damned if I let that lecherous son of the devil have her.

The man frowned. “Certainly someone as clever as you can figure this out.”

Bernardo glared and prayed it could be true.

Aurelia sighed as she left the home of a healthy young pregnant woman. Finally, she’d found something she could do of value. Tonight she’d write to Uncle Pino and thank him for paying the gold needed to have her placed with the Dominican order.

She scratched at the rough fabric around her face and entered the church to pray. The rest of the novices, most much younger than her, were already kneeling on pillows. The abbess frowned in her direction while simultaneously mouthing ‘Holy Mary.’ A truly amazing feat if one was to ponder upon it.

Father Joseph, her first friend in Florence, grinned at the interaction and winked from where he stood with the choir.

I pray Heavenly Father.
She knelt on the cold stone, again forgetting her cushion.

I pray that Bernardo has a long and healthy life and Lucella’s nature becomes sweet and gentle. That her grandmother dies of old age. Oh, si, si, and soon. I pray that Fulvio finds a lively young bride. I pray that Pino and Mia are happy. That their sons find wives. For myself, that you help me forget my former life and wipe it clean. The mother in charge insists it will happen if I pray but you and I know it does not get any better. I miss Bernardo so much, Father. I have done all that I vowed to do. I have not fornicated. I did not become his mistress. I have confessed all my sins and yet...

And yet her dreams were only of a dark Spaniard that she’d once thought was her husband. He came to her every night and touched her in her dreams. Surely she was the most sinful of women. She lusted after a married man and wanted, more than anything else in the world, to be his mistress even if he didn’t want her as his wife.

The mass went on forever while suffocating her with incense. Then she ate her supper in silence, prayed once again, and stared at the rafters almost until dawn. Better to stay awake than to create more sins by dreaming of him.

In the morning, instead of heading to the city, she was asked to stand before the head priest, Father Dominic.

His smile was too stern. “How’re you adjusting to your new life?”

She shared what she hoped was a holy and beatific smile, “Very well. I enjoy my work in the apothecary.” That much was true. She’d never considered how hard it would be to lose all her freedom.

“I understand your father was a respected doctor.” He shut the door behind her.

“Si. Si. He had a very good reputation. Right up until the very end.” Did the good priest know why her father had met an early demise? Is that why he’d called her here?

“Buono.” He paced with hands behind his back in a way that already she recognized. Whatever was coming next, it was going to be bad.

She braced when he sighed deeply, turned and said, “I’ve had word from Rome. Cardinal Borgia is asking for you.”

“Bu—”

“Please don’t interrupt. It’s actually a blessing because I was going to insist you leave us. Your presence hinders the holiness of the rest.”

“Me? But how? I’ve been most pious. Haven’t I worked hard every day in the apothecary?” Maybe he’d found out about her fake marriage? Even that was not her fault. She’d been forced.

“You’re too exuberant. Vibrant. Frankly, you’re too pretty. You cause otherwise holy men to lust and think impure thoughts.” He stared out the first floor window where a group of young men had gathered in discourse.

Her mouth dropped open at the unfairness of the accusation. “But Father, I’m covered from head to toe in miles of black fabric.” She raised one flowing sleeve to make her point.

He turned and glowered. “Did you not stop and talk to Father Joseph this week? In fact more than once?”

“I’m not allowed to speak?” She tried to keep the defensive tone out of her voice and hid her clenched fists inside her sleeve.

“Not if his confessions include lewd descriptions of what he wants to do with you.” His dark brows raised to the top of his tonsured head.

“So I’m responsible for a man’s impure thoughts?” For a moment, she thought she might scream.

With a wave of Father Dominic’s hands, her fate was sealed and her dreams of finding a happy life in Florence ended. “It’s not worth discussing further. We’re dependent on Borgia for our funding so you must go. I’ve already sent word to him.”

He paused and studied her face. “You look as if you might be about to faint. Should I open a window?”

“Please.” She tried to calm her breathing while listening to men outside. An argument grew quite adamant over God, Aristotle, and Plato. What were shadows? What light did John refer to in his first verses? She’d heard it all from her father’s lips. What good did all the learning do when a good woman couldn’t even treat the sick in peace?

Father Dominic slammed the window shut. “You’ll pack your things and leave in the morning.”

“Can I ask one thing?” She kept her face serene.

“Si.”

“How did Borgia know I was here?” Her heart beat faster.

“Apparently he’s been searching for you for months. He’s quite anxious for you to finish a book your father started on Roman fever.”

He’d been looking all this time? She moaned. “
Mio Dio.”

“Blasphemes, my child?” His lips pursed as he led her to the door and all but pushed her out.

“No. No, Father. I’m praying. Thank you. I’ll go now.” Praying how to escape and where the hell to go next.

With a slight bow, she rushed out of the building and out of sight. Father Joseph, who’d been talking under the window, looked up as she waved him over. Yet again, a man had betrayed her. This time she’d use it against him. A sweet smile and a wink was all that it took.

When he arrived at her side, she said, “I know what you want and am willing to barter. Follow me to the building where the herbs are drying but not so anyone notices.”

Her heart pounded as she did her best to wiggle her hips and saunter away. Once around the corner, she grabbed a fallen brick, hid it up her wide sleeves, and strode to the small stone house at the edge of the Dominican’s enclave.

She inhaled the pungent fumes of thyme and mint while gripping her brown chunk of stone. Would she be able to clunk it down on her friend’s head? Perhaps even killing him?

Despite hours of prayer, the dead of Soriano still haunted her. Somehow, she should’ve been able to stop her uncle. She already had too much blood on her hands, she argued to herself, but this was her only chance to get away.

Joseph entered, face laced with concern. “Sister Maria. Are you alright?”

How she hated changing her name. In fact, other than treating the sick at the apothecary, there was honestly nothing she liked about being a nun. And now that God had broken his promises, she felt no obligation to stay.

“I need your help.” She searched his face for an ounce of compassion.

“What is it?”

“Father Dominic told me what you confessed and because of it, is sending me away. It seems my impure nature causes men to lust.”

He hissed. “My confessor has sinned most egregiously. That’s between him and me and God.”

“Agreed. But still, I must leave the order.” Aurelia sighed, realizing she was about to become homeless again.

“Are you willing to barter for my aide?” He inched in and groped at her breasts before she could stop him.

She slapped his hand down. Then with stomach churning, she gripped her hidden brick, backed away and said, “Take off your clothes.”

He grinned widely, eager to do as told.

“Your robe. Your hat. Your cloak. Everything.” She toned her voice into a command.

He glanced up as his large cock shot forward when he dropped his hose. “What about you?”

“Turn around. I’m a bit shy. I’ve never done this before.” She raised the stone, suddenly unsure of how to proceed as voices drew close.
Damn
. She just couldn’t hit him even though he’d ruined everything. Could she?

Then an idea dawned on her. “Can you move just an inch more that way while I remove my chemise, dearest?”

He stepped away from his clothes. The voices outside grew louder.

She hissed and pushed him forward into a man-sized jug beside the wall “Quickly hide. Someone comes.”

As he crawled on his hands and knees, she moved more quickly than she’d ever done in her life, snatched his clothes, and left him without a stitch.

Despite all her misfortune, the ensuing mayhem and shouting caused her to giggle uncontrollably. Then she ran off, leaving the Dominicans far behind.