Chapter Fifty

 

 

On to Canossa

 

 

As the wagon train continued moving toward the Apennines Handel took great care in nursing Mala and Duxia. Though he could be merciless in his role as a spy and assassin he was nevertheless, in his heart of hearts, a Benedictine monk. The sight of the dead infant laying in its dying mother’s embrace had torn at him, as had the realization of what these people had endured upon the pass. Offering a short prayer service, he had the bodies of Fernando and the infant covered and bound, then tied on the top of one of the wagons for transport. Normally bodies of the dead would be abandoned or cast over the ledge under such circumstances, but Handel refused to do so.

“We’ll bury them properly in Canossa,” he said. “Their corpses will keep atop the wagons in this cold and will be no bother to us.”

Mala and Duxia were suffering from third degree frostbite, and as their wagon ambled through the mountains, they were only half aware of what was occurring around them.

The medical term for frostbite is congelation, and the effects of this condition are both dangerous and gruesome. At or below freezing temperature, blood vessels close to the skin begin to constrict and blood is shunted away from the extremities, causing the skin to become numb and develop white, red, and yellow patches. Though this constriction helps to preserve core body temperatures, this protective measure can also reduce blood flow to dangerously low levels. If freezing continues, as was Mala’s and Duxias’s case, the skin hardens and freezes, then blisters one or two days after freezing which results in temporarily loss of use of the area. This deeper frostbite causes purplish blisters which turn black and result in loss of feeling and nerve damage. Extreme frostbite may result in fingers and toes being amputated if the area becomes infected with gangrene, and if untreated, may cause them to simply fall off. Handel, knowing that it takes months to actually assess the true amount of damage incurred by frostbite, mixed his doctoring with prayer, hoping that neither woman would lose limb or life.

After several days, Duxia and Mala came out of their semi-conscious state and were actually able to move about and converse a bit. “My b-baby!” were the first words out of Mala’s mouth. Though giving birth was a vaporous memory, she vaguely remembered holding and nursing her infant son. “Where is my child?”

“Gone,” Duxia replied coldly. Though she hurt inside for Mala, she was bloated with hate for nature and for its creator, God. “Dead, Mala. Frozen to death like our ponies and like poor Fernando. Only you and I survived God’s ordeal, so He can punish us more, I suppose.”

At this Mala’s eyes began to water. “It’s not possible,” she whispered, her voice dissolving into a soft sob. “Why would He do such a thing? What have I done to deserve such wrath at his hands?”

“Tristan de Saint-Germain, that’s what,” said Duxia. “He’s a curse to all he touches, and just as certain as it is that we suffered, it’s certain that he touched you and passed along his damnation, Mala. We should have died there, Dear, but we live, through the mercy of Lucifer.”

“What?” said Mala, still crying to herself.

“Yes, Dear, as I lay dying I stared at your dead baby and dead Fernando and I prayed to Satan that he might at least deliver you and me from that frozen hell. It was my last thought before falling into the blackness. I remember that blackness now. In it I communed with Satan, and he embraced me, took me in his fold, told me that he would protect me from God’s vengeance. Yes, Girl, tis Satan who sent these wagons our way to pull us from the pass.”

This talk frightened Mala. “No more, Duxia,” she said.

Duxia considered Mala with curious shining eyes a moment. “Oh, you foolish young thing. Though I love you more than life itself, you are deluded. Gain your strength, Dear, for we have work to do, you and I.”

“Work? What are you talking about?”

“In that blackness as I lay freezing to death Lucifer showed me our future, Mala, and said he would help, but also said that we must earn our part.”

“What?”

“Yes, that man Handel who saved us, he mentioned that the wagons are going to Canossa of all places.”

“Canossa, is that in, Italy?”

At this Duxia cackled a bit. “Ha, it’s in Tuscany my Dear, the very place we were headed to since leaving Lyons! What fortune, eh? Only Satan himself could set such a table!”

Mala’s eyes opened wide, struck by this sudden information about the wagon train’s destination. “Tuscany?” she said.

“Yes, these wagons are headed to the very doorstep of la Gran Contessa herself! So you see, my Sweet, the Black Prince has answered my prayers and opened the door. All we need do now is walk in.”