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A procession of servants awoke Morena in the morning. Stacks of newly arrived chests overflowed with a dazzling array of clothing and accoutrements. She reached into one and pulled out over-tunics, wimples and veils, all made of luxurious satins and silks. An unimaginable selection of kirtles and under-tunics of the purest white linen cascaded over the side of one chest. Fur-trimmed mantles in crimsons and azures for the winter. Soft, delicate shawls for the warmer months. So plentiful in numbers that Morena knew she could not wear them all. She tried on one pair of dainty slippers, one of many pairs made of superb leather that filled another entire chest. Not a bare space remained in her bedchamber.
A sense of joy possessed her. No longer did she feel fettered between the four walls that once pressed down upon her. Instead, her spirits soared with the knowledge that Amoro loved her. She reciprocated that love. Today they would become husband and wife. With his love, came true security.
She glanced at the array of gifts. She never experienced such generosity. She never felt so protected.
A knock on the door interrupted them. When bid to enter, a kitchen maid brought Morena a small folded note.
“What is it, my lady?” Silvia asked after the kitchen maiden departed.
Morena unfolded the parchment.
Contessa,
I am the finest gold merchant in Genoa with whom your betrothed regularly conducts transactions. Just this morning, I have acquired a rare selection of ancient Roman rings and pendants suitable for a wedding gift for the duke. If you are interested, I shall be pleased to present them to you. My dwelling is the grey stone house in the centre square adjacent to the market.
Giacomo di Santello
Morena felt the blood drain from her face.
“My lady? Is something wrong?” Cristina asked.
“I forgot to purchase the duke a nuptial gift.” Morena flopped onto the bed. “I must go into town immediately. Who will come with me?”
Both Cristina and Silvia accepted.
“Well, then please search through these piles of clothes and find something suitable for me to wear.”
The maidservants chose a spectacular under-tunic of midnight blue with an over-tunic and matching mantle in crimson velvet. Dainty riding boots of soft black leather that tied around her ankles completed her ensemble.
Suitably attired, Morena flung open the door of her bedchamber.
With her head held high, and followed by her maidservants, she strode down the corridors of the upper floor and descended the stairs. Morena smiled at the many servants she encountered on their way to the stables.
Morena waited while several grooms scrambled to saddle three horses.
“Who will escort you, my lady? Which horses shall I prepare?”
Morena hesitated. She should take an escort with her, but the time for the wedding drew near and she could not spare the time it would take to summon the escort. “I don’t have time to wait for an escort this time. My ladies and I are merely going to see the gold merchant to purchase a wedding gift for my future husband. We shall not be away long.”
The groom brought her a white mare. “This is Bianca, my lady. Duke Amoro assigned her to you specifically.”
Morena let the mare sniff her hand before she mounted. “She is lovely.”
Two other grooms brought out horses for Cristina and Silvia.
They rode through the bailey to the gatehouse. Morena looked up at the sky. The warm Italian sun caressed her neck and shoulders and settled over her with comfort. The weather blossomed with sunshine, perfect for a wedding. Milkmaids and guardsmen, clergymen and blacksmiths stopped their industriousness to watch them ride past.
As she approached the gatehouse, the constable exited the guardroom and snapped to attention.
“Please open the gates.” Morena waited.
“Yes, my lady. I wasn’t aware you wanted to ride this morning. If you will wait, I’ll have an escort arranged to accompany you.”
“I have no time to wait. I’m merely going to visit the gold merchant. I shall not be gone long and the road is well-traveled at this time of day.”
“But...”
Before the constable could complete his argument, Morena raised her eyebrows, cast her gaze at him and tilted her head. “I will advise the duke I ordered you to let me pass. Please open the gates.”
The constable glanced about nervously.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, signorina.”
“Then please do as I ask. All will be well.”
“Yes, my lady.” The constable’s face flooded with doubt.
Bianca pawed at the ground. Morena held herself still.
The constable swung open the gates. “Open the portcullis!”
Guardsmen yanked on pulleys and ropes to raise iron bars.
Morena waited until the guardsmen announced the portcullis open and secured. “Come ladies, let us enjoy the sunshine. I need to find my husband-to-be an appropriate gift and then we must hurry back.”
Morena didn’t attempt to disguise her broad smile. They trotted past the murder holes and arrow slits on either side of the dark passageway and into sunshine and freedom.
***
MORENA SLOWED HER HORSE and looked across at her companions. In the distance, church bells tolled sext. The sun beat down upon them. Her stomach rumbled with hunger for the midday meal. As the road climbed high over a hill and dived down into the town, they drew rein.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a river added peacefulness to the ambience of this extraordinary day. Amoro had been true to his word, she did indeed have true independence, and it tasted fine.
Morena brought her horse to a halt beneath the shade of a large tree.
She reached for the water skin at her saddlebow, raised it to her lips, and drank. “I was thirsty.” She passed the water skin to Silvia who drank and passed it to Cristina.
The air grew still. Only the sound of the river in the distance remained unchanged. A twig snapped. Someone hacked through brush at the side of the road. A group of men appeared from the shadows of a thicket. Drawn swords gleamed in the stray rays of sunlight.
Morena lashed Bianca’s sides. “Flee!” she shouted to Cristina and Silvia. Her horse bolted and raced through the forest.
Sounds of pursuit seemed a short distance behind her. Fear tore at her guts. Morena looked up for the sun and thrashed her horse onward. She must find her way back to the main road to get help.
The thud of hoof beats behind her drew closer. She leaned close to Bianca’s neck and grasped the mane for added balance. She kicked her horse harder and glanced back over her shoulder. Three men galloped toward her. Two carried big brown burlap bags.
Almost at once, they were upon her. The first leaned over and yanked her hard. She fell to the ground with a thud and cried out in pain. The man jumped off his horse. He jerked her arms behind her. The other two men came to a stop and waited on their mounts. One carried a large sack in his hands.
She struggled to keep them from stuffing her inside the bag. “Let me go. Get your hands off me. Help!”
“Shut up!” yelled one of the men. His vile, broken-toothed grin sent a shiver of fear down her spine.
Her rage and fright proved difficult for the two men to overcome.
She kicked with every shred of might she possessed. One tried to take hold of her shoulders and force her still. Morena’s teeth clamped down onto his wrist like the vise of a trap.
The man bellowed with pain. “Satan’s hell!” He looked down at the trickle of blood on his arm and clouted Morena hard across the side of the head.
Morena screamed louder. “Help! Get away from me. Help!”
Two hands grabbed her head from behind and forced it still. One of the marauders stuffed a cloth into Morena’s mouth to stifle her screams.
With brute strength, two strong arms hoisted her off the ground. She kicked and flailed her arms to set herself free. The two brutes dragged her to where the third man held the reins of their horses.
One man held her tight as the other mounted. Once on his horse, the rogue snatched her up in his burly arms and plopped her down in front of him. Trapped in his arms, they cantered off through the woods.
Her body trembled. Panic squeezed her lungs. She heard the horses thunder along. His grip on her was so severe that she struggled to breathe. The horses plunged through cold water that saturated her clothes and mantle. She felt the horse rise up a bank and continue along down a road.
She lost track of time. They stopped to water the horses at a stream.
The man she rode with dismounted and pulled her down after him.
From his belt, he unsheathed a dagger. His eyes glinted with malice as he held it against her neck. “If you promise to keep that mouth of yours shut, I’ll not use the sack and remove your gag, but be warned. The moment you scream or call attention to yourself, I’ll slice your throat.”
Morena nodded. He did as he promised. The rest period lasted long enough to down some bread and water. Soon they remounted and continued the journey.
***
AMORO TOOK PRIDE IN the fact that his men held him in high esteem.
He knew each man by first name and treated each one with respect.
Although experienced commanders held sway over his warriors, he took care never to countermand or hinder their authority. He paid his warriors well and as a result, he never experienced any difficulty attracting men to follow him into battle.
Between battles, Amoro and his men occupied their time with the repair of weapons and mail. Today, the day of his nuptials, he spent with his men. They mended and removed any signs of rust from broadswords and shields, polishing each item until it gleamed. In the nearby stable, the blacksmith’s forge burned hot while they shod every warhorse.
Although his royal title didn’t require him to labour, Amoro never shunned hard work. Neither did he miss an opportunity to work alongside his vassals. He knew that if he gave of himself, they could do no less.
Naked to his waist because of the fire and heat from the forge, and befouled with sweat, a sudden commotion down by the courtyard gates interrupted his work.
Three saddled horses returned home without riders. The blood drained from his face when he recognized Bianca, the horse he assigned for Morena’s exclusive use. Dio, something must have happened. He cursed his foolishness. In his desire to prove to Morena that he trusted her, he instructed the gatekeepers to allow her to leave the castle unescorted if she requested. His foolish heart clouded his better judgment.
It took mere moments to assemble his men and set out in various groups to search for them. How could three women vanish without any trace?
They were deep in the woods north of Genoa when two horsemen approached.
Amoro froze in the saddle. Then he relaxed. They were his men.
What news had they? He fought to contain his worry and prayed they brought good news. Amoro ordered his companions to rein in and wait.
The leader came to a halt and saluted. “Signore Amoro, a man by the name of Massimo Baronno arrived from Portovenere. He wishes to speak with you and awaits you in the great hall.”
“Massimo?” Amoro echoed. “He is the castellan of Monterossa Castle. Did he say what matter he has come to discuss with me?”
“He didn’t say. I thought it best not to alert him about the Lady Morena until I determined whether he be friend or foe. He did say he brought something for you, but insists on presenting it to you in person.”
Amoro commanded his men. “Keep searching. Leave no ditch, thicket, or cave unchecked. I want the women found.” He reined his horse around and returned to the castle at a gallop.
Amoro stormed into the great hall.
“My lord.” Massimo Baronno rose from his chair by the hearth and bowed his head to greet him, but Amoro’s mood tolerated no formalities.
“I’m given to understand that you have something for me,” Amoro began without preamble. He strode to the table and filled two goblets with wine. He handed one to Massimo, quaffed his, then re-filled his goblet and faced Massimo.
Massimo eyed him with a look of concern. “Is something wrong?”
“Why do you ask?” Amoro tried to conceal his anxiety as he waited for Massimo to reveal his purpose.
“It is not difficult to see something is amiss. Too few men guard your keep. The stables are near empty of horses and tack. The servants are subdued. Is this not your wedding day?”
Massimo was observant. Amoro changed the course of the discussion. “I have no time for idle conversation,” he dismissed. “My man tells me you have brought something for me.”
Massimo grinned. “Indeed I have. It will please you.” He reached into a worn leather pouch that hung at his waist, withdrew a scroll, and handed it to Amoro. “I found the betrothal document. It is only a copy, but it is accurate because I recognize the hand of the Count.”
Yellowed with age, a frayed ribbon kept the parchment furled.
Amoro unrolled it and began to read, aware of the heat of Massimo’s gaze upon him.
Therefore, I, Umberto Monterossa, seek matrimony for my daughter, Morena Monterossa to Ernesto, Duke of Savona. For love of this and according to ancient practice, I dower my beloved daughter, Morena, upon her marriage and by authority of this endowment, Monterossa Castle and all lands, serfs, vassals, and ancient Roman treasure should it be discovered. I cede and transfer it in perpetuity to her to have and to do whatever she wishes with it. Should she perish, Monterossa Castle and all its lands, serfs, vassals, and entitlements shall pass to her husband, Ernesto, duke of Savona.
Count Umberto Monterossa
Duke Rodolfo Boccanera
When he finished, Amoro stared at Massimo. The full impact of what the document meant sent a bolt of dread through his body. Should Morena die, Ernesto stood to inherit Monterossa Castle. It all became clear. Amoro darted from the room intent on rescuing his bride.
***
DARKNESS FELL BY THE time Morena and her captors rode into Savona.
In the distance, she heard the sound of waves that crashed against the rocks and smelled the pungent salty smell of the sea. They were taking her to Ernesto. His men must have watched and waited to capture her.
The horses trotted in single file through the portcullis of a dilapidated castle and halted in a courtyard before a small tower. The man she rode with reined to a halt, dismounted, and helped her down. He gripped her arm and pulled her towards the keep’s main doors. With each step, she winced with pain. After a hasty day’s ride with little rest, her feet were numb from lack of circulation. Every muscle ached.
Just as they reached the door, it swung open.
“Welcome home, Morena,” Ernesto uttered with icy audacity.