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Morena tilted her head to look at Amoro. A late autumn sun blazed from its highest point in the sky. A fragrant sea breeze wafted through the air.
Amoro took her hand and squeezed it.
The troop of mounted guardsmen encircled them. Two men rode in front, two at either side, and two followed behind in near perfect formation. Their red mantles with brass and silver accoutrements billowed behind them in a spectacular vision. Guardsmen also protected Silvia and Cristina who rode behind. Laughter coloured their animated conversation with the men. All the joviality added to the pleasantness of the day.
To their right, the Ligurian Sea coloured the vista with a deep turquoise. Its rippling waters shimmered beneath the cloudless azure sky. They stopped in shady orchards and verdant pastures to rest the horses and take refreshment.
Morena had left Monterossa Castle in early spring. Now, in mid autumn, much had transpired. As they drew closer, a flood of memories swirled in her mind. Foremost she recalled the many pleasant days spent with her father as they reviewed the castle accounts, or resolved a problem for a vassal, or sat in quiet companionship before a vigorous fire to enjoy a cup of sweet wine. Times never to be recaptured. Cherished memories forever locked in her heart. For as much as the past carried sadness, the future shone before her with radiance. A new life and a new family. A husband who loved and cared for her.
They reached a crossroad and turned right onto the old Roman road that led to Portovenere. Morena took in the familiar landscape. Each length of their journey brought them closer to the sweetness of her homecoming.
At last, they reached the top of the hill that overlooked Portovenere.
Beyond the cluster of homes, at the edge of the sea, the rose-colored walls of Monterossa Castle came into view. Gentle waves lapped the shores of its rocky promontory. An inviting vision of tranquility.
On the battlements, crimson standards with the new Dragone-Monterossa crest fluttered with each gust of breeze. Men and women who lived and toiled within the castle walls leaned from the embrasures.
They cheered and waved ribbons in a rainbow of colours.
Morena released Amoro’s hand and sat upright, her throat constricted. An accumulation of tears blurred her vision as she waved back. They rode over the thick wooden trusses of the bridge with a clatter when they passed through the barbican and into the gatehouse.
Ribbons billowed from every murder hole and arrow slit. They rode beneath the open portcullis and entered the bailey. Grooms and stable lads, house servants and guardsmen, awaited them.
“You did this?” Morena looked up into Amoro’s eyes. They glimmered with amusement.
“I knew of it, but I had nothing to do with it. Massimo is to blame. He wanted the duchess of Genoa to receive the grandest of homecomings.”
Out of the throng stepped Massimo, dressed in a handsome scarlet bliaud trimmed with tiny embroidered dragons and mountains in honour of the new crest. He waited for a groom to help them dismount before he stepped closer. As protocol dictated, Amoro descended first followed by Morena.
Massimo gave an elegant bow. When he straightened, Morena reached out to him.
“Please, let us dispense with formalities,” she declared. She thrust herself into Massimo’s arms. Their embrace conveyed all the affection of a childhood shared.
“It is good to see you. Congratulations to you both on your marriage.”
“Thank you,” Morena and Amoro responded simultaneously. It caused the three to break out in laughter.
“I hope you are hungry,” Massimo said. “As castellan, I took the liberty to plan a feast that will rival any in Genoa,” Massimo teased.
Amoro grinned. “That, caro amico, is unlikely, for when it comes to feasts, my mother would make a formidable opponent. I have a powerful thirst. Any chance to sample some wine from your cellars?”
Massimo bowed and gestured to the entrance. “Why of course. Come, a new bottle awaits us in the great hall.”
***
LATER, IN THE QUIET of Morena’s old bedchamber, Amoro took his bride’s hand. “I wanted to wait before telling you this. I fear the festivities may last days and I wish to act as soon as possible.”
A brief show of confusion crossed her features. “What is it?”
“Let’s sit down first.” Amoro led her to the bed. He gestured for her to join him.
A blush heated her cheeks as she glanced at the bed and then back at him. “In the middle of the day?” she inquired beneath raised eyebrows.
A smile curved her sensuous lips.
Amoro threw back his head and laughed. “That is not what I had in mind, however, if you so wish, it is my husbandly duty never to deny that which you desire,” he grinned as he pulled her down and clasped her tight in his arms.
“You tease me, Amoro.” Morena pulled away and playfully slapped his wrist.
“Yes, I tease, but later I promise you that my intentions will be very serious.”
Morena pecked a kiss on his cheek.
Amoro withdrew a small piece of yellowed parchment from the pocket of his tunic. He unfolded it and handed it to her.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Prior to our escape from the dungeons of Castle Savona, the bloodstone pendant you gave me broke apart. This fell out.”
The discoloured parchment was worn thin, its edges frayed.
“It looks like a drawing of some sort,” Morena squinted as she tried to make out the faded words.
Redder than the rose,
Whiter than the lilies,
Fairer than everything,
I will always glory in thee.
She gasped. “That matches the inscription on the back of the pendant!”
“I believe this map may lead us to the treasure rumoured to be buried here,” he said.
“I believe so too.” Morena scrutinized the worn parchment. A large square surrounded the mark of a cross. Above the cross, two vertical lines flanked a small oval. “Secret passages exist below ground. My father warned me never to go down there because they fell into disuse and might be unsafe.” She paused and studied the document closer.
When she looked back up at Amoro, her cheeks carried a rosy blush and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “This doesn’t look like a map depicting secret passages. It looks like the chapel.”
***
MORENA LED HIM TO THE opposite end of the keep. In a stone laden corridor on the main floor, two pillars stood on either side of an iron gate that protected a richly embossed door of silver metal. Both the gate and door squealed in protest as Amoro pushed them open. They entered into a dimly lit chapel. Judging by the clumps of dust on the floor and the cobwebs in every corner, no one had used the chapel in a very long time.
“This was my mother’s private chapel. When she died, my father could not bear coming here, so he insisted that we attend mass in town.”
As Amoro’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he noticed three rows of benches with a wide aisle down the centre that led to an altar atop a dais.
Two small glass windows on each side of the door, and one above the altar, allowed a small amount of light to filter in. He scrutinized the entire room as they made their way up the aisle. Amoro stepped onto the dais and cast a cursory glance at the carved stone altar and the dust-encrusted window above it. He reached inside the pocket of his tunic and retrieved the map to study it again.
“I believe the cross on the map signifies the altar,” he indicated.
“And the two lines and oval must be the plaque and candleholders beside it.” Morena’s voice trembled with excitement.
Amoro pushed and tugged on every corner and leg of the carved altar with no result. He slid his fingers beneath the altar’s polished surface. “Maybe there is a key or another map hidden somewhere,” he commented. He covered every part of the altar and the floor beneath it, but found nothing. Then he turned his attention to the bronze plaque.
“Look at this, Morena.” Amoro motioned for her to come closer.
Carved cherubs and stars bevelled the edges of the plaque. Bronze candleholders flanked both sides of the plaque. There were no candles in them at the moment, and no sign of wax that might have dripped from them onto the floor beneath. He reached up and grabbed the candleholder closest to him and pulled on it. Morena did the same with the other. Neither one budged.
“Pull on it at the same time as I do,” Morena suggested.
They pulled in unison. First came the sound of a long rasp. Then both candleholders slid down and fell forward. The bottom of the plaque sprang free from the wall. Amoro raised the plaque, but found nothing behind it. As soon as he let the plaque drop back into place, they heard the sound of stone scrape against stone. The altar moved forward. Where it once stood, a dark pit with a set of wooden stairs lead down into the darkness.
“Porca miseria,” Amoro exclaimed when he peered down into the hole. “By pulling down on the candleholders, the plaque moves, which, in turn, moves the altar and exposes this crypt or antechamber or whatever it is down there.”
“Can you see anything more?” Morena asked as she leaned over his shoulder to see.
“No, but wait here,” Amoro told her.
“Where are you going?”
“To fetch a torch.” Amoro turned on his heels and strode from the small chapel. After a few moments, he returned with a torch blazing in hand.
He aimed the light into the pit and took Morena’s hand in his. With caution, he tried the first step. It took his weight. He took the next step.
One by one, he paused to deem it safe to proceed to the next. They descended into the gloom. When they reached the bottom, Amoro held up the torch.
They found themselves in a wide chamber with stone walls and floors that seemed to go on as far as the light would shine. Cobwebs filled every corner. Tiny antechambers, little more than niches, were carved into the walls. Rotted straw, a dented Roman helmet, broken sea chests, overturned barrels, a table and chairs, a cot, and an old feather mattress, were strewn about in untidy disorder.
“The Romans who owned this castle kept their valuables here until a ship arrived to transport them home.”
They looked around in wonder as they stepped through the chamber.
Amoro felt Morena shiver at the unbearable cold.
“I can’t imagine how terrible it must have been to endure this uncomfortable room, no matter how short the time,” Morena commented as she rubbed her arms vigorously to warm them.
At the opposite end, the chamber narrowed into a tunnel.
Patches of wet and ice made the earthen floor slippery. Decay and rot filled their nostrils. Amoro heard the squeal of little animals, the scratch of tiny feet. He drew Morena closer to him. A lump of grey mass ran across their path, its long thin tail flicked in the torchlight. The sight caused Morena to whelp, the sound of her voice shook with fear and disgust.
“You’d think it would be too cold down here for such creatures,”
Morena commented in an effort to regain her composure. Amoro recognized the false front and squeezed her hand in reassurance. He continued to lead the way down the tunnel-like corridor. Soon it began to slope upward.
“We must be near the main floor of the castle,” Amoro declared.
“I hope so,” Morena said. Her teeth chattered. “I’ll be much relieved when we are above ground. I understand why my father forbade me to come down here when I was a child.”
When they reached the top, a flight of stone steps led upward.
“Another staircase.” Amoro shook his head as he began to ascend.
Once again he tested each step as he went. At the top they reached a stone-lined passage. First, it ran to the right then it swung right again to yet another dark chamber.
“It’s a wine cellar!” Morena watched Amoro hold the torch against the racks of wine casks covered with the dust and grime of centuries.
“There’s a spring lock on the back of this rack here,” he said as he tried to shift it. With a loud click, the rack detached itself from the wall and then swooshed open to reveal another hidden stairway. This one led downward.
“Whoever built this castle must have been obsessed with stairs.”
Amoro shook his head with annoyance.
Morena shook her head in wonder. “I spent my entire life in this castle and I never knew these places existed. It is obvious the Romans went to great lengths to protect their treasure.”
Amoro aimed the torchlight and they climbed down. At the bottom, a circular tunnel progressed into more chilly darkness.
“Watch your head,” Amoro warned as he crouched down and entered the cramped shaft. At the very end, they came to a small grotto.
Inside, a life-size statue of the Virgin Mary stood upon a block of wood that was carved with roses and lilies. Both of her arms were extended out from her sides. In her right hand, she held a wooden rose, its paint long worn off, and in her left hand, a lily in worse condition. Her face didn’t bear the countenance of calm serenity like most religious statues. Instead, one side of her mouth curved up in a mysterious smile meant to taunt whoever looked up at her.
“Redder than the rose, whiter than the lilies, fairer than everything, I’ll always glory in thee,” Morena whispered. “This must be it.” Her voice echoed in the emptiness. From somewhere the steady drip of water could be heard.
Amoro stepped closer to the statue. He pushed and prodded at the lily in the lady’s left hand, but nothing happened. Then he turned his attention to the rose. When he pulled on it, the statue came loose from its foundation with a loud creak. Amoro pushed the statue aside. It revealed a rather large hole. A large wooden casket, the breadth and width of a large dog, lay inside. He handed Morena the torch then knelt beside the hole and reached inside to try and raise it.
“It is too heavy for me to lift,” he said as sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Maybe we should return and get someone to help us.”
Never one to give up, Amoro didn’t answer. Instead, he reached back down and pulled up on the latch. “It’s unlocked,” he declared as he lifted the rusted metal that would raise the lid. But before he opened it, he stopped and let it drop back with a resonant slam.
“It is for you to open, Morena, not I,” Amoro said, his brows raised.
Morena took his hand and looked into his eyes. “No, you are my husband. We will do this together.”
She could not have provided a more splendid response. He smiled proudly at her and placed his hand atop hers. In unison, they raised the lid.
Gold coins, pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds sparkled in the torchlight.