They exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries, Antonia feeling awkward as could be. The fact that the marriage had never been consummated was written in flaming words above their heads. Mariotto intended an assignation with his wife. Their first.
Mariotto smiled at Antonia. She returned the smile weakly. Gianozza was gazing at Antonia too, surely thinking of nothing but how to get rid of her.
Glancing down at her clothes, Antonia made a choking sound in her throat. "Oh! I must look frightful! Is there a stream or something nearby where I can clean up before I return to the castle?"
"Just head back the way we came," said Gianozza quickly, "and off to the south about a half a mile is a stream." Mariotto beamed, but Gianozza frowned in genuine concern. "Are you sure you can find your way back?"
"I'll take Rolando with me," Antonia said, reaching down for the dog's leash. "He can guide me."
"Of course he can!" cried Mariotto cheerfully. "This old mutt knows these lands better than I do!"
"Well, goodbye, then!" Antonia tugged on the leash, hard. Her cheeks burned. As she turned down the path she wondered, Would it be too indecorous to run? There was a cooing sigh from behind her. Oh, wait until I'm out of earshot please!
The dog resisted, straining back towards his master. "Come on, Rolando," whispered Antonia. "They don't want you there either."
Pietro rode north with Fazio and a band of thirty men. They were passing Ferrara when he was hailed by a large man ridiculously perched on the back of a mule.
"Hola!" Waving, the man almost fell off his mule. "Señores! Por favor — I need, ah, I need some aiudo." A wide floppy hat shadowed his dark skin, black hair, and beard. There were crimson stains on his shirt, but not blood. Wine. "I am riding to Treviso, and — well, I am, how you say, lost. May I ride with you?"
Pietro said, "We're not going that far."
"As far as you do go, then." His accent was definitely Spanish, but his Italian wasn't half bad. It was the drink that was giving him trouble.
"We're in a bit of a hurry…"
"So am I! It will work out so well, for me to come with you!"
It was common practice for a band of soldiers to take charge of any lone travelers. There were already three women and their grooms in Pietro's party, so he couldn't very well say they weren't taking on extra people. Still, this Spaniard could be a thief. "What do you do for a living?"
"I am a world-class notary, señor! Perhaps you could use a notary on your travels?"
"No, thanks. What's your name?"
"Oh, I am a lout! My name is Persiguieron La Mordedura. But if you allow me passage, you may call me whatever name you wish! Just do not call me early!" He laughed hard at his own joke.
Pietro sighed. "Very well. Ride up front, where I can keep an eye on you. And don't bother the ladies."
"Señor! What do you take me for? A cad?" He raised his hands in mortification and fell out of his saddle entirely. While he righted himself Pietro signaled Fazio to start the small band moving again.
Antonia took her time at the river. When she looked respectable again, she woke Rolando from his nap and set off in a roundabout path for the castle. She was in no hurry to get there. Arriving alone would cause a stir, and Gargano shouldn't learn of his son's return from a slip of a girl he barely knew. That was up to Mariotto and Gianozza.
Paolo and Francesca, she thought with wry disgust. She'd laughed at the Paris-Helen-Menelaus triad her father had coined just after Gianozza's marriage. After that there had been Arthur, Guenivere, and Lancelot jokes. But Paolo and Francesca? Well, Gianozza had always said it was Dante's poetry that brought Mariotto to her. People just don't understand that story.
Antonia and Rolando strolled along the stream, looking at the green mosses and listening to the birds. When the mastiff sniffed some prey out, Antonia released him, then settled herself on a rock beneath a shady tree to wait. They were near Ser Bonaventura's land, Gianozza had said. Maybe she should go see Ferdinando. She had thought up some particularly demeaning taunts since their last encounter.
It bothered her that her feelings were so obvious that Gianozza could tease her about them. She hadn't really admitted to herself that she had grown to rather like Petruchio's awkward cousin. That they were consistently mean to each other was their defense, the unspoken agreement between them, each keeping the other at bay.
She forced herself to think of her father's work, determined not to think about that person. It was growing late when she finally angled back towards the castle. In another hour the sky would begin to redden. If they aren't done by now… Antonia primly refused to finish the thought.
Castello Montecchio stood at a hilltop some five miles southwest of Vicenza. Built on the ruins of a similar fortress constructed some centuries before, the new castle was well fortified. The horse stables for which the Montecchi were famous weren't within the castle, but had a separate walled compound to the north.
As Antonia drew close to the castle, she began to wonder. There seemed to be more men-at-arms on the ramparts of the castle walls than when she'd set out this morning. It was a little unnerving, seeing the lines of spears and helmets. Squinting up, she saw that all the soldiers were turned inward, looking down from the high walls into the main yard.
She managed to keep the mastiff restrained as she walked through the main gate. A hundred mounted men-at-arms occupied the yard in front of her with their squires, pages, and extra mounts. Among them their pages dashed, unstrapping a buckle here, replacing a thrown shoe there. The soldiers sat on their horse's backs, waiting for orders. Several had dismounted and now strolled through the compound to stretch their legs.
Antonia saw a face she knew, though not a face she was looking for. God, what is he doing here, today of all days? Approaching him she said, "Ser Capulletto?"
Antony turned at once, hoping she was someone else. Seeing who it was, he still smiled and greeted her. She asked what brought him here. "We've just been told that Padua's breaking its treaty," he told her. "My guess is that we've come to ram it down their throats. Uguccione is leading us, and he says we're to wait in these parts until we're needed." He glanced down at her. "You look like you've been rolling in the mud."
"Gianozza and I were out for a walk…"
"Yes, Gianozza. Where is she?" He tried to make it sound casual.
Antonia hedged. "I came back without her."
"You mean she's in the forest alone? Antonia, there're Paduans about! Spies and mercenaries, not to mention wild animals!"
"She's not alone," said Antonia quickly. "She — ran into an acquaintance and they fell to — talking."
"I'm going out there." Antony turned to his groom. "Andriolo, my horse!"
O God, isn't this a disaster in the making? She opened her mouth to say something, anything. But a louder voice called, "Capulletto! I need you!"
It was on the tip of Capulletto's to snarl that he was busy, but he caught himself and walked to where Uguccione della Faggiuola waited in the company of Lord Montecchio and several other leading Veronese. Antonia followed, jostling though the crowd of soldiers and servants. Here were the familiar faces of Nico da Lozzo and Ser Petruchio Bonaventura, whose grin shone from under his beard. "Got my orders," he rumbled delightedly. "A leader of men at last. Won't that amuse my Kate."
"Take her mind off that bun in her oven," remarked Nico.
"The way she gets around while preggers, I doubt she's noticed it yet."