"How long have you been married, now?" asked Nico da Lozzo.
"Two and a half years," the proud husband declared.
"Two years, and four children," said Nico, clucking his tongue derisively. "Blessed with fertility! A girl, then twin boys."
"This next child will be another girl if the wisdom of nurses means anything."
"That might be a record. Unless you had a head start?"
Petruchio roared with laughter. "A late one! Ask cousin Ferdinando, or any of my servants. My wife took some particular wooing before she yielded to my charms."
At the sound of his name, Petruchio's cousin turned. His eyes fixed at once upon Antonia. She stared defiantly back, daring him to mention the state of her clothes. But instead he answered his cousin. "They fought like cats in a sack. Maybe passionate love requires a little bite back."
Some men traced his gaze to Antonia and chuckled. Antonia drew herself up and said, "I always suspected you were a backbiter, signore."
Ferdinando opened his mouth, stopped, then bowed. "I cannot spare the time to spar with you, lady. There'll be nothing left for the Paduans." He was booed.
"But you're a Paduan sympathizer, I thought."
"Still with that?" Ferdinando cocked his head. "I think every man here would cheer Padua on against Florence or Venice. A shame for you, but you can't help where you're born."
"Any more than you can help being a — " But Petruchio cut her off with a tut-tut. She curtsied to him, made a face to Ferdinando, then turned back to Capulletto, who was receiving orders from the general.
"…with the drought, there's not enough food here. I want you and Bonaventura to take some of the men and hole up at Illasi tomorrow. Nico will do the same, heading for Badia."
Capulletto was anxious to begin his hunt for Gianozza. "Is that all?"
Uguccione frowned. "Shame no one taught you manners, whelp. No, that isn't all. Take some hounds and some squires with you. Make it seem innocuous, like you're a hunting party."
"A very well-armed hunting party," quipped Nico da Lozzo.
"One hell of a doe," grinned Bonaventura.
Ferdinando was trying to catch Antonia's eye — he must have come up with a new retort. Normally she would have liked nothing better than to make mincemeat of him. But Capulletto was preparing to ride out. She hurried to Lord Montecchio side and tugged at his sleeve. The Lord of Montecchio looked down at her. "Antonia, my dear? What is it?"
It took remarkably few words to convey the problem. The lord of the castle's eyes opened in comprehension just as Capulletto said, "I'd be delighted to lead a troop. Now, if you'll pardon me, I've got an urgent errand." He yanked on his reins and mounted.
"Just a moment!" cried Lord Montecchio. Too late. Capulletto was touching his spurs to the horse's flanks. He shouted, "Clear a path!"
Antonia waved her hands. "Wait! Antony, wait!"
Capulletto suddenly checked. For a moment Antonia thought he'd heard her. But his eyes were fixed on the main gateway. Emerging from its shadow were Gianozza and Mariotto. Both on one horse, she was seated across his lap as they trotted forward into the courtyard. His doublet was unlaced, and her head was uncovered, hair was loose about her shoulders. She clung to him like a nymph to the prow of a ship.
Then the lovers saw him. Montecchio's horse came to a halt as its rider gazed at his former best friend. "Antony."
Capulletto was entirely still. "Mari."
Come on, Antonia's mind cried out. Put it behind you. Mari, say something, make it easier on him!
"Mari!" cried Aurelia from a window. "Mariotto, is that you? You look like a Frenchman!" She bolted from the window and came tearing out, the rest of the household following. Amid the greetings Mariotto allowed his gaze to drop to where his father stood, waiting. Ignoring Antony, Mari set his wife gently on the ground, dismounted, and pushed past the servants to kneel at his father's feet.
Gargano Montecchio spoke stiffly. "The Scaliger has spoken highly of your service abroad."
"I regret that I was unable to do more," was Mari's neutral reply.
A moment passed, then Gargano reached out a hand. "Welcome home. We have all missed you." After their embrace, Gargano took his son by the shoulders and turned him to face Capulletto. "Now, greet your friend."
Capulletto had not dismounted, so Mariotto walked to stand next to his horse. "Antony. It's good to see you."
Through a rigid jaw Antony said, "Montecchio."
Mariotto's back stiffened, but he pressed on. "Please accept the welcome of this house, old friend." He reached up a hand. Antony looked at it then deliberately dismounted without the offered aid. They shook hands stiffly, then Antony stepped back, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
Antonia heard a snort from nearby. Looking over her shoulder she saw Antony's brother Luigi, a wide grin plastered across his face. He was enjoying his little brother's misery.
In the center of the crowd Mariotto masked his disappointment by saying brightly, "So, what brings you all here?"
"A little vacation, a little war!" Uguccione della Faggiuola thumped him on the back. "Well, you're more solid than I remember. And your timing is perfect. We need strong men for the coming action!"
"Action?" Mari's eyes gleamed with excitement. "After two years surrounded by conniving priests and backstabbing courtiers, I could use a good fight."
"Come inside," said the general, "and I'll tell you all about it! Perhaps your father can spare a few men for you to lead."
"Of course," said Lord Montecchio. "Come inside, everyone! My servants have malmsey prepared."
Mariotto slipped his hand into Gianozza's as the crowd of knights and soldiers streamed into the hall.
Quite forgotten in the dispersing throng, Antonia walked across the courtyard towards the guesthouse. She would change into fresh garments before returning to the hall.
At the steps to the guesthouse she turned. Capulletto remained alone in the mouth of the castle gate. Reaching for his horse's saddle, he removed a long silver dagger. He studied it for a long time before slipping it into his belt. With a deep breath to steel himself, he strode into the hall after his lost love and the man that had once been his friend. It brought tears to her eyes.
"Well, that was awkward," said Ferdinando, appearing suddenly. He'd obviously returned to find her.
She turned away, wiping a tear brusquely away. "I'll be in soon. You can taunt me then."
Antonia was surprised to find a gentle hand on her arm. "Lady, you don't think much of me, I know. But I would be the lowest man to taunt a friend in distress."
She turned to look up at him, wiping her eye. "By what right do you call yourself my friend?"
He shrugged. "I make no claim. Not to sound dramatic, but in a few days I'm riding into a fight. I just wanted things to be, ah, clear. Right. Between us." Uneasily, he took her hand. "I would like to be your friend, Antonia Alaghieri."
He was an awkward-looking fellow, short with a long neck and sloping shoulders. But handsome wasn't the world. Let Gianozza have her Mari. There were better things. Like a mind. Like a friend.
"You are my friend, Signore Backbiter."
He laughed and sighed at once, his smile mirroring her own.
Thirty-One
Vicenza
21 May 1317
Pietro's small company of soldiers rode up to the gates of Vicenza. In the midday heat, the guards who policed the gates watched them come. This tiny condottiere wasn't girded for battle; most of the approaching soldiers gazed at the sights of a new city.
One of them rode up to discuss entry. He wore no armour and in the hot day his shirt under the red leather doublet was open. At his side stalked a sleek and panting greyhound. The fellow introduced himself to the guards, who formally asked the party's destination. "France, eh? Be sure to bring your own wine."