The Blessed (32 page)

He paused and then shook his head. He was not saying no. He was saying,
I know not.

Daria turned away, pained that he had not seen if she would live to hold this child. For it had taken only her a few hours to fully know the truth of it and want this baby with everything she had inside her. She was pregnant, having conceived in the first night or two of her marriage. She shook her head at the wonder of it. “I hope your plan is wise,” she whispered to God, as she returned to the manor.

Tessa came bursting out of the house, Nico and Roberto right behind her. Bormeo screeched, high overhead, as he circled. Tessa smiled, looking at Daria, now in her gown, which matched the dress. “Oh, m'lady, can we not go with you?”

“Nay, Tess,” Daria said for the tenth time, reaching out to pinch her chin, then patting each of the boys on the shoulder. “You three are to stay here with Agata and five of the Les Baux knights. You are to remain indoors, with the doors locked. Understood?”

“Understood,” they all said sorrowfully.

“Can we not simply ride along?” Roberto tried. “We could remain in the servants' quarters.”

“Nay. It will be no place for children.”

“We have been in many a place not meant for children,” he said.

Daria laughed. “Yes. Unfortunately that is well true. But I shall do my best to keep that from happening on a frequent basis. Because of our task at hand, you three are thrust into more than your share of circumstances that demand an adult's shoulders to bear the weight. I am so proud of all three of you—what you have managed to navigate. What a gift you are to all of us! But nay, I shall keep you safe and out of harm's way for as long as possible.”

“You mean you shall be in danger this night?” Tessa asked, her eyes narrowing. She had had been fingering Daria's gown, running her fingers over the arctic hare hem.

“We shall see our enemy this night,” Daria said levelly, “but he dare not move against us. Not in the midst of so many of our friends.”

Tessa shivered. “I do not wish to see Amidei or Vincenzo anytime soon.”

“I'm afraid you shall see them again sooner than you wish. Take your ease this night, my sweet. The servants can show you how to play the Mameluke cards.”

“Truly?” Nico asked, eyes widening. He had always loved games, playing for hours with his granduncle in Siena. Count Armand had introduced them to the oversized cards that came from the East, and they had spent an evening playing in Les Baux. Ever since, the children had been begging to learn.

“Truly.”

The boys took off running to the house, pushing each other, tackling the other, falling, laughing, and then running again. Daria laughed at them and then looked back to Tessa, who was circling her, looking in consternation at her dress.

“What is it, Tess? Do you not like it?”

“It is beautiful, m'lady.” She circled her again and paused, reaching out to touch it, then pulling her hand back as if scorched.

“Tess?”

“It is a magnificent gown,” she said. “But one of the dark has touched it.”

Daria frowned at her, but just then the men emerged, all heading toward the stables, with servants who carried their trunks for an overnight stay near the castle. It was time to depart. Right after them came the countess, who searched about for her. Two Les Baux knights came out the front door, looking for their third charge.

“Never thee mind, Tessa,” Daria said, “go, go to the house now. We shall see you on the morrow.”

“Our prayers go with you,” Tessa said, holding her hand for a moment longer, then trailing away.

Daria smoothed her gown down, feeling bile rise in her throat. Just who of the dark had touched this cloth? She pulled on the leather gauntlet, raised her arm to the sky, and called for Bormeo to return.

 
THEY journeyed for several hours, along the river, until the castle came into sight. Prince Maximilien was the reigning monarch of a kingdom that stretched from the edge of Villeneve-des-Avignon to nearly Valence. His castle boasted four turrets with a crenellated, manned walkway between and stood on a high cliff above the Rhône. Flags with long, streaming colors waved against a robin's-egg-bleu sky, making their gold and red seem all the more dramatic.

Directly across the wide Rhône was a larger castle, dominating the hillside. It was there that the king of France hovered, as if a bird of prey about to pounce. It was only Prince Maximilien's presence, and Queen Jeanne of Naples, who owned Avignon, and the pope directly behind them, that seemed to keep the Frankish king from taking the rest of this territory. He rested for now, as he had for some time, in an uneasy truce with Prince Maximilien, each seemingly content to remain on his own bank of the Rhône. But this night, even the king was expected to attend the festivities.

As they neared, the Gifted could see hundreds upon hundreds of servants, horses, and mules hovering around royal tent after royal tent. It was an uncommon gathering of nobles from near and far, with so many in attendance that neither the prince's nor the king of France's castles could hold them all. Each large tent bore a royal flag or family herald. Odd animal sounds filled the air. Gianni pulled up his horse beside her. “An elephant. Somewhere down there, they have an elephant.” They could hear it trumpeting, almost like an angry sheep bleating his complaint.

As they entered the camp, every person masked as instructed, they spotted bear and an ostrich and every sort of hoofed animal possible. Leopards growled and restlessly paced their cages. Daria looked up at Bormeo, who seemed unfazed by any of them until they came upon twenty tiny, impossibly yellow birds that inhabited one cage. Bormeo moved, digging his claws into her gloved arm in agitation.

“Easy,” she said, “you shall get dinner soon enough. None of the pope's rare birds for you.”

They passed through the muddy avenue between the tents, smelling food on the many campfires. Elegant ladies and finely dressed gentlemen in masks entered and exited the tents, made of a durable cloth that would repel most of the rain, should it fall.

“It as if we are in the camp of Bedouin kings,” Piero said, edging his horse beside her.

“ 'Tis a wonder. I wish now that the children were with us to see it.”

“Nay. It was a wise decision to leave them behind. No telling what mischief they might have entered here. We have enough potential trouble without them in the mix.”

Two Les Baux knights rode up to them, bearing the flag of Balthazar. A group had set out at daybreak to prepare their tents and provision them for their arrival. They led them into the meandering tent village to a group of eight tents at the edge, each in a crimson red with white flags atop their points, perched on a hillside.

Count Armand grinned at Daria. “I thought you might approve of the colors.” Then he smiled at Gianni. “And I thought you might approve of a position of strength.”

In front of four of the tents was the d'Angelo peacock, staked into the ground and waving in the breeze, and in front of four of the others was the Les Baux sixteen-pointed star. They looked beautiful all together.

“It was a wise choice,” Gianni said approvingly. It was always better to be high, above your enemy, than down below them.

“Will not all the heraldic flags tell everyone our identity?” Daria asked idly. “Why wear the masks?”

“The men already search the grounds for Amidei and his dragon,” Gianni said. “We shall use it to our advantage.”

“It is a farce,” the count said, dismounting. “But it does lend an air of gaiety to the festivities, does it not? Everyone looks so mysterious and intriguing.” The count reached up to help Daria down. “Your wife is a vision,” he said to Gianni, still smiling down at Daria. “Every eye in the room shall be upon her.”

“That does not make me feel better,” Gianni said, coming near, leading his horse by the reins. “And I beg your pardon, m'lord, but I must insist you stop staring at my wife like that, or I shall be forced to strike you.”

“As well you should,” said the rakish noble. He reluctantly turned from Daria and clapped Gianni on the shoulder. “Never fear, brother. Your love affair is a grand thing, a story I shall tell for many years in the halls of Les Baux. I could never get in the way of such a tale, still unfolding right before my very eyes. But you cannot stop me from being jealous.”

“I shall have Father Piero come and pray for you.”

Count Armand laughed. “He can try. But the other lovelies about these tents will probably do me one better.”

“You mind your behavior, brother,” Anette said, drawing near. “Set your mind upon honorable things and do our friends a service.”

“Oh, I shall,” he pledged, raising an eyebrow. He looked again to Gianni, suddenly serious. Then to Daria. “I jest. Play. But you must know you already have many friends among these tents. All the nobles you met at Les Baux will be in attendance this night.”

“It is not they that concern me,” Gianni said.

“They shall not ambush us here,” Armand said, spitting out the words in distaste for their enemies' cowardice. “We are prepared. Let them come.” He leaned closer to the de Capezzanas and put a fist to his chest. “Me and mine,” he pledged again, “shall die fighting for you and yours.”

He turned and Daria stared after him. Would this cause take his life, too? Just how many lives would be spent upon their holy endeavors?

“Daria?” Gianni asked, looking down at her. He slid a hand down to her lower back and his other lifted her chin. “Are you well?”

She forced a smile. “As well as can be expected, husband.”

 
THERE was a mass of blessing inside the castle as the sun set, over which the pope presided, but only the highest nobles could attend. There simply was not room for the rest, so the remainder stood in the stone hallways and were instructed to remain in silence, heads bowed, all still in masks, from the time it began until the time it ended.

Daria, standing on the stair near the front entrance, watched as the pope and twelve cardinals, twenty bishops, and other papal court higher-ups processed through the castle and into the chapel, the only ones not in animalia costume. Armand, Anette, and Dimitri were in the chapel, and she had glimpsed the Conte and Contessa Morassi, as well as other nobility she had met. But she remained outside with the rest of the Gifted, her knights and the mass of others, as she well preferred.

She had not sensed Amidei's or Vincenzo's presence, and while she startled at the sight of numerous men who resembled them in stature, she was sure she had not yet laid eyes on them. It helped her breathe easier. Mayhap they had not yet arrived. Better yet, mayhap they were not coming at all.

Knowing she was to keep her eyes to the ground did not make it easier. The staircase was calling her, constantly guiding her upward. Again and again she pulled her head downward, until she realized that it was her God who urged her upward. Who was up there?

A young woman. Daria searched her mind, but could not determine her ailment. But there was a woman above them whom God was crying out for her to come and heal. She itched to move immediately, but forced herself to stay in place. She tapped her foot, until Gianni quietly took her hand, silently urging her to stop. He met her glance and frowned when he saw what was in her eyes. By now, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Was it really necessary for them to remain here? In silent vigil for a mass they could not hear or take part in? She moved an inch, and Gianni's hand tightened around hers. “A few more minutes,” he urged in a whisper.

She closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to remain still. When she opened her eyes, she heard the blessed chorus of men singing a hymn and thanked her Lord it was over. The pope and cardinals and bishops processed out of the chapel and on to the gardens outside, which overlooked the river, and where the feast and festivities would take place. Everyone else went after them, except for the Gifted, who looked to Daria in concern as she stayed rooted to her spot, like a rock in a river of people.

They were alone in the hall at last.

“There is a young woman upstairs I am to heal,” Daria whispered. She straightened and smiled at two male servants who came down the stairs, waiting for them to pass.

“Ugo and Hasani,” Gianni said, “you two remain here, on guard. We shall send down word as to where we end up.” They turned to go, and at the next landing, paused.

“She is higher still,” Daria said, her eyes going to the next sweeping staircase.

“Vito and Josephine,” Gianni said, “You shall remain here.”

“I always get to rest with the prettiest girls,” Vito said, smiling at Josephine.

“Remember,” she said, thrusting a finger in his direction, “I know the truth of your words. You offend me.”

“This is not good. A woman who can judge the truth of a man's words. No one told me I'd have to endure such suffering.”

Gianni rolled his eyes and told Vito to run down the stairwell and tell the others they were heading to the third floor, then he turned and ushered Piero and Daria upward, Gaspare hard on their heels. He said in a low voice, “If we are asked, we will say we are lost.”

“It is good that we left the truth teller behind us,” Piero quipped.

Daria moved into the third level, heading toward one wing, then abruptly stopped and went the other way.

“This has to be the family quarters,” Gianni said, his face awash in concern. If they were discovered here . . .

Daria continued down the hall, lit by several torches, and then paused at one door. Inside, she could hear creaking upon the boards, as if someone paced. Tentatively, she knocked upon the door.