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When dawn lightened the sky, Morena opened her eyes. She turned onto her side and let her eyes adjust to the morning light. She gazed around the unfamiliar room and remembered the events of the day before.
No one woke her, so she knew Amoro had not yet found his way to the sanctuary. Her spirits plummeted. Rather than wait, she rose, made her ablutions without taking time to braid her hair, and dressed.
She entered the passage. The sun’s rays already pushed through four latticed windows opposite the row of rooms. The double doors at the end of the passage stood open. Morena entered another long passageway that led first to the left and then to the right. She could not remember which direction the sister led her last night. After a moment of hesitation, she turned right. At the end of this corridor, two open doors at the far end beckoned her into a small chapel.
Cool, but comfortable inside, small drafts breezed over the marble floor and purled at the hem of her tunic. Despite the rays of sunshine that seeped through the small windows, the chapel remained dim. Peace washed over her.
Morena dipped the fingertips of her right hand into the brass bowl filled with holy water and made the sign of the cross. She knelt on the floor before the small altar and observed the room.
The chapel’s tranquility enveloped her. She gazed about the room at the arched roof and pillars then noticed the intricate altarpiece of the Virgin Mary.
She bowed her head. “Hail Mary, full of grace.” Morena’s voice sounded harsh in the silence as she prayed more profoundly than ever before. When she opened her eyes, the face of the Virgin stared back at her from the altar. Where is Amoro? Please bring him back to me. She bowed her head. The pressure of a soft hand upon her shoulder startled her. She turned around.
Mother Abbess looked down at her, her countenance solemn.
“Amoro has arrived.”
***
THE SMELL OF BLOOD accosted her when she followed the Abbess into the reception room. Inside, men leaned against walls. Several bodies lay scattered upon the floor. Nuns scurried back and forth with of basins of water and clean cloths to tend to the wounded.
“Amoro?” Morena called out.
“Morena?”
Amoro’s voice acted as a balm to her rattled nerves and beckoned her further into the room. Afraid her ears tricked her, she stopped to discern from where the voice came. She spotted him. She knew him as well as her own shadow.
“Amoro!” She gasped as she fell to her knees at his side. “I was so frightened for you. You are hurt.”
He quieted her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive these flesh wounds.”
His eyes blazed with life above the gaping, blood-encrusted wound on his cheek. A patch of dark sticky blood soaked his tunic from a wound on his shoulder. Splatters of dried blood stained his patrician features.
“You bleed,” she uttered as she tried to wipe away the blood that stained his shoulder. A fresh streak of blood reappeared. “The wound will not stop bleeding.”
“I know,” he breathed. He took her hand in his and pressed her finger to his lips. “A few well-placed stitches will quell it. I fear a scar will remain to remind me of the wretched man who put it there.”
“Blood is all over you.”
“No, my blood comes from my cheek and shoulder. The remainder belongs to Ernesto and those of his men witless enough to attack me.”
Morena searched his eyes and saw within a steady reassurance.
“There is no need for explanation,” she muttered as she reached for a bowl of water and cloth. She wetted the rag and laid it upon his cheek.
He winced a little at the first touch.
Morena leaned down to kiss his blood-splattered forehead. “I cannot express how grateful I am that you saved me from a lifetime with Ernesto,” she told him, the calmness in her voice at odds with her inner upset.
“I’m not worthy of your thanks. I failed. It was you and Laria who saved me.”
“No,” Morena shook her head. “I’m indebted to you beyond any explanation. I’ll not allow you to deny your valour. You risked your life and suffered for me.”
“Come,” Mother Abbess approached. “Let us take Amoro to a bedchamber.”
Together, they helped him to his feet. He tried to protest, but the two women ignored him. They wrapped their arms around his solid shoulders and walked him down the passages to one of the chambers.
Morning’s rays flooded into room. They crossed the floor, helped Amoro to the bed, and laid him against the pillows. A nun entered the room with wine and a basin of water. Mother Abbess directed her to set them on a bedside table and dismissed her with a whisper of appreciation.
Morena raised the cup to Amoro’s lips and bade him drink. “It will ease the discomfort when we sew the wounds.”
It pleased Morena to notice how the wine seemed to soothe him. He watched her, a look of wonder etched in his features. She dipped a swatch of linen into the water and wrung it out and applied its warmth to the gash on his cheek.
Morena studied his face, the gentleness in his eyes, the softening of the blunt line of his mouth. As she washed the grime away, she marvelled at the man. Never would she have believed him capable of such a focused attack against Ernesto. Ernesto lay dead at the end of a blade while Amoro suffered mere flesh wounds.
With a small knife, Mother Abbess sliced his tunic to free his body from it. Together, the women washed the wound. With barely a grimace, Amoro bore the pain of the needle that stitched his flesh.
Mother Abbess ordered hot broth and warm bread. She smiled at her nephew. “I’ll return later to check on you,” she said. She left the door wide open. For propriety’s sake, thought Morena, to give her some time with Amoro alone.
***
AMORO GAZED AT THE beauty beside him. He swept an unruly lock of hair off her cheek. With a gentle pull, he brought her close and touched his lips to her forehead. “I love you,” he breathed softly, the words a song to his heart.
“I love you too, with all my heart.”
Amoro hesitated. “There is something I must tell you.”
Morena studied him, a look of concern furrowed her brows. “What is it?”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Ernesto killed your father because he refused to honour the betrothal document. Ernesto confessed it when he told me he was going to kill me.”
Surprise furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“When your father learned of Ernesto’s gambling debts, he confronted him to break the pact. Ernesto killed him and hastened to Monterossa Castle to claim you before you could discover his treachery.”
Morena cried out in grief. She reached around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. For a long time, her tears fell. When they subsided, she raised her head and looked down at him. “I’m heartily sorry.”
“For what, cara?”
“For my foolishness. I almost married a man who places no value in human life unless it served his selfish needs. For not trusting you sooner.
For not agreeing to marry you even though you comported yourself with honour and sincerity. For judging you wrongly.” She paused. “For everything.” The final words died upon her lips as a great sadness overshadowed her face.
“Nay,” he protested and pulled her closer. “Shh, gattina, it is all over. Stop the apologies.”
“I can’t,” she whispered against his chest. She drew a long, tortured breath. “I can’t find the words.”
The naked anguish in her voice brought tears to his eyes. He leaned back and looked at her. “What words?”
“That I was wrong about you. There, I have said them.”
“Why do those words distress you so?”
“Because you told me that one day I would be forced to admit how wrong I have been about you. Do you remember? I told you that you were foolish to expect such a thing. You said the day would come where I would reverse my opinion of you. Then you would take great pleasure in accepting my apology - if you were still willing to have me.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair and framed her face between his hands. “And have you changed your mind?”
“With my every breath and entire soul.” She leaned back and looked at him. “Will you still have me?” she whispered fearfully.
“I love you,” he said with emphasis. “God, how I love you. I want you for my wife, yesterday, today, and forever.”
***
THE DAYS PASSED IN a tumult of sadness. In a small graveyard behind the sanctuary, with Morena at his side, Amoro stood before the graves of Laria and the men who lost their lives during the skirmish. Amoro held himself straight. Morena’s hand gripped his as she wept quietly. He shut his eyes to mourn his loss. He had shared many years with Laria and these men. Happy years. He opened his eyes and looked at Morena, her face ashen, full of grief.
Amoro stared down at the forlorn graves. Despite the warmth of early September, he felt cold, colder than he ever felt in his entire life.
His friends were down there in the cold earth. A small part of him would forever lay with them.
***
THE TRANQUIL SANCTUARY provided Morena time to heal. She would never forget Laria or the men who lost their lives to aid her and Amoro.
Massimo and a small contingent of unwounded men had already returned to Monterossa Castle. Enveloped by the peaceful surroundings and the care of the good sisters, Amoro and Morena’s pain faded. Hope sprang to life in its place.
Only one thing remained to mar Morena’s happiness. Her courses were late. She feared she carried Ernesto’s child. She prayed daily for it not to be so, but to no avail. With each day that passed, her fear of pregnancy grew. Amoro might refuse to marry her. How could she expect the duke of Genoa to become father to the duke of Savona’s bastard? She did her best to conceal her disquiet from Amoro, but failed to hide it from Mother Abbess.
“Tell me what troubles you, child?” Maria asked while they kneaded bread in the kitchen.
“It is nothing, Mother Abbess.”
Maria wiped her floured hands on her apron, placed them on her hips, and faced Morena. “I seldom see you smile. Your face is almost as white as linen. You spend more time in the chapel than I do. Perhaps you can fool Amoro into believing all is fine, but you do not fool me. Fear seeps from you like flour sieved through a bolting cloth. Come, wipe your hands, and sit with me. I shall brew some warm milk. Unburden yourself, child.”
“I don’t wish to bother you with my problems.” Morena removed her apron and sat opposite to Maria at a large wooden table.
“It is no burden. It is my duty to ensure the well being of my charges and family. If something worries you, I can help, or at the very least, pray on your behalf. Talk to me. A candle loses nothing when it lights another.”
Morena reached for Maria’s hand. Maria had tended to her wounds, prayed with her, and saw to her every need. Morena had developed a genuine fondness for her. Amoro loved his aunt and Morena saw with her own eyes the closeness between the two. There was no person she could trust more to confide her problems.
Morena recounted the entire ordeal. Only when she told of Ernesto’s rape and the fear that she carried his child, did her voice tremble. When finished, a long silence ensued.
Mother Abbess sat back in her chair. Her expression intensified, became thoughtful. “Nothing like this has ever happened to our family before,” she said at last.
At these words, Morena’s heart constricted. “No, I suppose not. It does seem difficult to believe.”
“We live in troubled times, cara. You are not the first woman, nor dare I say, the last to suffer the brutality of a forced encounter, and who must bear the consequences of the evil union.”
“What of Amoro?”
“What of him? He is a man of honour who loves you. His heart is large enough to accept an innocent life partially of your blood.”
“Do you believe so?” A surge of hope caused her heart to hammer.
Mother Abbess rose and walked around the table. She took Morena’s hand, helped her stand, and then embraced her. “Not only do I believe so, I know my nephew well enough to be certain of it. He is aware Ernesto took you by force. This didn’t deter him from wanting to marry you. Tell him about the child. Of course, he will be angry at Ernesto for what he did to you, but he loves you enough to care for both you and your baby, no matter how it came to be created.”
Mother Abbess spoke with such an air of confidence, that Morena trusted her implicitly. “Amoro has invited me to dine privately with him on the morrow. I shall tell him them.”