The devil to pay, p.20
The Devil to Pay, page 20
No sooner had the thought entered her mind than a shout went up from the riders ahead and the cart lurched to a halt. She peered out from between the fabric covering. A single horseman blocked the path ahead and she sucked in a horrified gasp as she recognized the rider.
Renata came awake with a start. “What is it? Why have we stopped? Are we there?”
“It’s my uncle!” Cara hissed. Oh, God. Her father had died in an ambush just like this. She scanned the carriage for weapons; she had the dagger in her boot, but that was all.
As if to confirm her fears, a group of riders appeared behind Lorenzo and a line of archers came out of the trees, arrows notched in their crossbows. The duke’s men formed a protective ring around the coach and horses, drawing their weapons in alarm, but Cara choked back a sob. However well trained they were, the Duke’s men were grossly outnumbered. Lorenzo had no mercy. There would be a massacre.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough in my request.” Lorenzo’s voice carried across the clearing. “I’m merely asking for what is mine.”
He sounded eminently reasonable, for a madman.
The duke spurred forward. “Your niece is betrothed to me.”
“She’s promised to my son, Piero. Hand her over and I’ll let you and your men go on your way unharmed.”
The duke drew his sword. “You murdered her father.”
Lorenzo’s face darkened. “Step aside, old man.”
Cara wanted to scream at the duke for being so foolhardy, even as she appreciated his loyalty. Lorenzo turned his horse and she held her breath, hoping he was leaving, but when he reached the trees he gave a hand signal and his archers released a volley of arrows.
Renata screamed as the rider nearest to them was thrown from his rearing mount, an arrow embedded in his thigh. More arrows thudded into the side of the cart.
Cara thrust her to the floor. “Get down. Whatever you do, do not come out after me!”
She leapt out of the cart, dagger drawn, in time to see the duke parry an attack from three of Lorenzo’s men. He knocked one to the ground and lunged forward, but was quickly set upon by the others.
“Stop!” She ran forward to help him, but it was too late; he’d already been disarmed. His men lowered their weapons and Cara breathed a grateful prayer that he hadn’t been killed. Yet.
Two of Lorenzo’s men seized her and marched her forward and the duke gazed at her in horror.
“My Lady! You’re supposed to be safe at San Rocco!”
Cara sent him an apologetic glance.
Lorenzo grinned in triumph. “Ah, my niece! Well met. It was foolish of you to run from me.”
As if she were an errant schoolgirl caught skipping her lessons.
“Your presence is required at Castelleon.”
Cara glared at him.
“I regret to deprive you of your fiancé here, but don’t worry. I’m providing you with another.” Lorenzo gestured at one of his men. “Piero!”
Cara watched her cousin’s approach through narrowed eyes. He was near her own age, tall and thin, with pale grey eyes, dark hair and pallid skin. His face was twisted in a grimace of distaste. He clearly didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. How lowering.
Her uncle shot the young man a glance of acute dislike. “Oh, for God’s sake, boy, stop looking like that!”
“My lord!”
Lorenzo frowned at the interruption, but brightened when he saw Renata being dragged from the coach, fists and hair flying. “What do we have here?” He turned to Cara to gauge her reaction. “Your maid?”
Cara blanched at the malevolent glint in his eye. “Let her go.”
“And have her run back to San Rocco telling tales? I don’t think so.” He addressed the soldier holding her. “Kill her.”
“No!”
The man ignored Cara’s cry of denial but, to her surprise, looked past Lorenzo to another, pale-haired man for affirmation. The stocky, bearded soldier gave a subtle shake of the head and addressed Lorenzo.
“Leave the woman alone. You have your niece, as we agreed. We don’t kill unarmed innocents.” He pointed to the duke and his men, being held at sword-point. “They’re no threat to you now. Let them leave.”
Lorenzo’s face turned an unattractive shade of purple. “I’m paying you to do what I tell you!”
Cara blinked. These men must be mercenaries he’d paid to assist him—who apparently still had some shred of honor.
Lorenzo yanked Renata from the soldiers’ grip, infuriated by the man’s disobedience. She let forth a torrent of abuse and sank her teeth into his forearm.
“Silly bitch!” He backhanded her across the jaw, his face mottled with fury, then grabbed his dagger from his belt and thrust it deep into Renata’s stomach.
Cara screamed.
Renata let out a strangled gasp and folded forward like a child’s rag doll. Lorenzo pushed her body away from him, watching dispassionately as she crumpled to the ground and lay face down, utterly motionless. He wiped his blade on the front of his tunic.
“Seems I have to do everything myself.” His lip curled at the captain’s expression of disgust. “What’s this? A mercenary who quails at the sight of blood? You’re in the wrong profession, my friend.”
“You bastard!” Cara’s horrified struggles brought his attention back to her. Despite having both arms restrained, she still managed to kick him as he approached. He sidestepped her flailing legs and grabbed her hair.
“Shut up, you little bitch.” His breath hissed in her ear. His dagger prodded her ribs. “You’re only alive because I suffer it. Don’t make the mistake of believing you’re indispensable. You’ll marry your cousin or end up just like your friend and your sainted father.” Signaling to the soldiers to release her, he urged her forward. “Hold them until we’re away,” he shot at the captain. “Then kill them or not, as you see fit.”
He pulled Cara towards the tree line, his wiry strength surprising her. Her scalp stung from his hold on her hair, but she dug her heels into the ground and tried to twist away. She received a stinging blow on the cheek for her efforts. She staggered, barely keeping her feet, as Lorenzo pushed her onwards.
“Think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” he snarled in her ear. “Spreading your legs for that whoreson del Sarto. Oh, yes, I have my spies. At least the marriage bed won’t hold any surprises for you.”
He pulled her closer, his rancid breath hot on her face. “You’d better not be breeding that bastard’s brat. I want a legitimate heir for Castelleon.” He glanced over at his son. “And if Piero there isn’t man enough for the job, I’ll be delighted to do it for him.”
Cara’s blood ran cold as she realized what he was suggesting. She cringed away from him in revulsion.
Lorenzo pressed his dagger to her side and prodded her forward—and then stopped dead, staring at the tree line as if seeing the devil himself.
Chapter 38
Cara blinked. Her ears were ringing from Lorenzo’s blow, and she shook her head, certain what she was seeing was an apparition. Her overwrought mind was dreaming up a vision of the one thing she most wanted to see—del Sarto sauntering casually out of the trees.
He looked real enough. Sunlight glinted off his dark hair and flashed on his sword, which was still sheathed. A menacing smile hovered at the corners of his mouth and his eyes glittered with deadly promise.
“You’ll pay for that,” he said calmly to Lorenzo.
Not a dream.
He came forward with a cocky swagger and was immediately surrounded by soldiers, but he gave their blades a scathing glance and carried on walking toward her and Lorenzo, stopping a few paces away.
“Well, well. Il Diavolo.” Lorenzo scanned the tree line as he spoke. “You’re just in time to congratulate me. My niece has just agreed to marry my son.”
“I have not!” Cara growled.
Del Sarto’s gaze didn’t even flick to her. His attention was focused on her uncle, as unblinking as a falcon with a rabbit in its sights. “She doesn’t sound very keen,” he drawled. “And besides, she belongs to me.”
Cara’s heart gave a funny little flutter.
Lorenzo turned to the mercenary on his left. “What are you waiting for? Disarm him!”
The man shot him a look that clearly said, ‘you do it’.
Del Sarto surprised them all. He unbuckled his sword belt and surrendered his weapon to the nearest soldier.
Cara narrowed her eyes. All those years of warfare must have addled his brain. Admittedly, he could probably still kill all the men around him with his bare hands, but even so, it didn’t make any sense. Where were his troops? Francesco? Saraceno?
Lorenzo looked as confused as she felt. He shot a nervous glance at her cousin. “Piero, come on.”
Del Sarto took another step forward.
“Stay where you are!” Lorenzo commanded. He whirled Cara round so that her back was pressed against his chest, clamped an arm around her waist, and pressed the tip of his dagger to her throat. “We’re going back to that bridge. Don’t come any closer or I’ll put a knife in her. I mean it!”
Del Sarto’s lips quirked. “No, you won’t. You don’t have the balls for it. You didn’t even have the guts to kill your own brother yourself. You got your hirelings to do it for you.”
He walked forward, unchecked. The men surrounding him were watching in stupefied fascination, as if he held each one under a spell.
“Seize him!” Nerves raised Lorenzo’s voice to a squeak.
Del Sarto turned towards the leader of the mercenaries. “I heard a rumor you were working for this piece of shit, Kaspar. I thought you had better taste.”
The commander’s mouth broke into a smile which transformed his grim countenance. He grasped del Sarto’s outstretched hand and gave a theatrical shrug. “What can I say? A man’s got to eat.”
Lorenzo gasped. “You two know each other?”
Del Sarto sent him a mocking smile. “Unfortunately for you, the world of European warfare’s rather small. We’ve fought together several times.”
“How’s the shoulder?” the mercenary asked.
“Took a while to heal, but it’s better now. Whatever this bastard’s paying you, I’ll double it.”
The mercenary nodded amiably. “I’ve no quarrel with you.” He sheathed his sword and his men did the same. Weapons disappeared into scabbards all around the clearing.
Lorenzo hissed in outrage. “You faithless bastards!”
The captain shrugged and turned back to del Sarto. “Want me to stay?”
“No. I’ll deal with this. Take your men to San Rocco. I’ll meet you there and settle up.”
The mercenary gestured towards Cara—who was still in Lorenzo’s grasp. “If I’d known she was anything to do with you, I’d have left well alone.” He returned del Sarto’s sword. “He told me it was a simple kidnap-and-ransom job.”
“No harm done.” Del Sarto rebuckled the blade around his waist with the ease of long practice and finally turned his mocking gaze on Cara. “Signorina Montessori, may I introduce Kaspar von Silenen, leader of this fine band.”
The captain nodded to her briefly, then turned back to del Sarto. “See you back at San Rocco, then. You’d better have some good wine.”
Cara felt light-headed. The whole situation was surreal. Both men seemed to have forgotten the fact that she still had a knife pressed to her throat. She watched in disbelief as the mercenary band disappeared into the woods as silently as they had arrived.
To everyone’s surprise, her cousin spoke up.
“Let us leave, Diavolo, and we’ll give you back the girl.”
Lorenzo hissed in fury. “Shut up, you little prick! We’re not here to negotiate. Get across that bridge.”
Piero shrugged, obviously accustomed to such a tone from his father.
Del Sarto gave a low whistle. Francesco, Saraceno, and twenty of his own men emerged from the trees. He drew a dagger from his belt and tossed it from one hand to the other with unnerving accuracy.
Lorenzo cleared his throat. “Stay back or I’ll kill her, I swear I will.”
He backed up, pulling Cara with him. She had no choice but to go, and she shot del Sarto a pleading glance. Lorenzo’s hands were shaking so hard that his blade nicked her skin; she felt a trickle of blood run down her neck.
Del Sarto saw it, and his eyes narrowed. Without taking his eyes off Lorenzo, he addressed Francesco. “See to Renata.”
Francesco hurried forward and knelt down next to her body, feeling for a pulse. “She’s not dead!” His voice quavered with relief as he stroked Renata’s hair back from her face.
“Pity. I thought I’d killed the bitch.” Lorenzo slanted another quick glance at his son. “Piero, get over that bridge. Now.”
Piero did as he was told. His crossing sent the thin rope bridge swaying back and forth over the gorge. Lorenzo kept Cara tight against his chest, using her as a human shield as he drew them both towards it.
The dry wooden boards creaked as they backed over it and the slightest movement made the whole thing lurch alarmingly. Cara put her hands out to the ropes to steady herself, keeping her eyes fixed on del Sarto. He was coming closer. Could she duck Lorenzo’s blade and throw herself into his arms? A quick glance at the dizzying drop below her made her discard that plan. Her stomach heaved. It would be far too easy to topple over the side instead.
“That’s it. Slowly.” Lorenzo’s hot breath by her ear made her stomach pitch even more. “Nearly there.”
Del Sarto put his foot onto the bridge as they reached the far side, where three horses were waiting.
“Stay where you are!” Lorenzo shifted his hold on Cara and slashed one of the supporting ropes. It snapped with a twang and the bridge lurched to one side, swinging and bouncing over the precipice.
Del Sarto leapt back, only his unnaturally fast reflexes preventing him from falling, and Lorenzo threw him a triumphant, gloating look across the narrow gap. “Oh dear. It’ll never take your weight now. And it’s too far to jump, even for the great Diavolo.”
Seizing her chance, Cara threw herself sideways and made a grab for the knife, catching Lorenzo’s wrist in her hands. He staggered back and shoved her hard against the rock wall. Her head banged against the stone and she loosened her grip, momentarily stunned.
Lorenzo raised his arm to hit her but then dropped the blade with a sudden howl of pain. He stared in disbelief at the dagger protruding from his arm, then back across the chasm at del Sarto, who was already poised to throw another.
The horses, frightened by the noise, pulled free from Piero’s hold. One backed up, blocking del Sarto’s second shot. Lorenzo released his hold on Cara, grabbed the reins, and hauled himself up into the saddle, staying low as he made a grab for her arm. The sleeve of her dress ripped as she ducked under the horse’s belly to evade him and Lorenzo struggled to control his mount on the narrow path. It reared and Cara stumbled, trying to avoid both the pounding hooves and the edge of the ravine. She could barely see anything through the choking cloud of dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves.
Lorenzo lunged at her. At first she thought he was trying to pull her up, on to the horse, but then his face creased in a murderous smile. “Little bitch!” he panted madly. “Give my regards to your father!”
He gave her chest a savage shove.
Cara staggered back. With a cry of alarm Piero lunged toward her, his hand outstretched to pull her back from the edge, but nothing could stop her backward momentum. The path disintegrated beneath her feet and suddenly the entire hillside seemed to be moving, a terrifying blur of noise and confusion.
Cara clawed at the rock sliding past in front of her. As she scrabbled blindly for purchase, one of her hands caught a sapling growing out of a crack in the rock and she clutched at it with all her might. Showers of stones fell all around her, bouncing and rolling down the steep slope and into the chasm below. Her shoulder screamed in protest as it supported her entire weight.
The rockslide slowed, leaving a dull rumble like thunder in its wake. Dust hung heavy in the air, and showers of loose scree rained down upon her head, but the worst appeared to be over.
She could barely breathe. She groped around with her free hand but the cliff was so chalky that it crumbled beneath her fingertips. Kicking her legs, she finally gained a foothold on a ledge off to one side. Rocks dug into her stomach and she closed her eyes, panting, coughing, savoring the pain as proof that she was—miraculously—still alive.
She wasn’t falling any further down, but she couldn’t move from her present position, either. She was completely stuck. She had grit in her eye and she longed to scratch it, but she was barely holding on with her fingers. She turned her head, braving a look downwards for her cousin, and smothered a moan. Piero’s body lay only a few feet below her on a rocky outcrop, half-covered in rubble. She couldn’t see his face, but the unnatural angle of his limbs told her without a doubt that he was dead. Guilt and nausea racked her; he’d been trying to save her. Oh, God.
Her arms began to shake. She swallowed the dust in her mouth and let out a tiny croak.
Pathetic.
She tried again and nearly sobbed with relief when she heard del Sarto calling her name high above her head.
“Cara! Stay there! Don’t move.”
Despite her dire situation, she was struck by a morbid flash of humor. Where did he think she was going to go?
“My lord, take care!” Francesco’s voice echoed down.
She risked a glance upwards, but couldn’t see anything except for rocky slope and a patch of blue sky. Then the blue disappeared as the underbelly of a black horse sailed overhead.
The madman had jumped the ravine!
The clatter of hooves above her head confirmed it, and moments later del Sarto’s grim face appeared over the edge. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. “I’m coming down to get you.”
He tied a rope around his waist and started backing down the scree slope, dislodging stones as he went. Cara flinched as she was struck by a rock larger than her fist. Swearing, she gripped the branch tighter and squeezed her eyes closed against the dust.
