Diane Stuckart - A Bolt from the Blue

Davide’s lips folded into stubborn lines, and his sword remained unyielding. “The Master gave us orders, and we must follow them.”

Helpless, I exchanged glances with Rebecca. She gave me a small nod; then, her expression kindly, she addressed the youth.

“You did your duty fi ne. What’s more important, you gave the soldiers on the parapets a good show,” she told him. “Now, make us a bow so they can see all is well, and then you must let us pass.”

“I cannot do that. The Master trusted me with this duty, and I will not let him down,” Davide protested, though I saw an uncertain wobble to his sword. “Please, turn back.”

“We won’t turn back,” Rebecca countered, her expression growing stern. “And the soldiers are going to get suspicious if we keep sitting here showing our gums to the breeze. Don’t worry; I’ll tell Signor Leonardo that you did your duty. And these boys”-she indicated Tito and me-“will take the punishment he deals them.”

The sword wobbled a moment longer. Finally, with a great sigh and look of consternation, he sheathed his weapon and made us an exaggerated bow from his saddle.

“Very well, you may pass, but only because I cannot stop you short of using a blade,” he retorted in a tone of disgust.

Shooting Tito and me a baleful glance, he added, “No matter what other punishment the Master deals out, know that you two draftsmen will have no other task for the next year but to boil the gesso every day to atone for your insubordination.”

I gave Davide an apologetic look but made no reply. While boiling animal skins to make the gluelike substance needed for coating blank panels was a foul job, I would have taken on a litany of far more disgusting tasks if it meant saving my father’s life. I saw a flicker of understanding in Davide’s eyes, however, and knew that in his heart he did not fault us for what we did. With a final salute, he put a heel to his steed’s flank and trotted back toward the forest.

“Well, that’s done,” Rebecca said with a sigh of her own as she whipped up the mare again. “Now, let’s see how we fare with the soldiers at the gate.”

We continued at a moderate pace toward the castle. The morning sun was warm upon our backs, and yet the sight of the brooding fortress was enough to make me wrap my father’s cloak about me more tightly. The washerwoman’s expression was neutral, but as close as we sat I could feel the tension in her beefy arms and knew she must be as nervous as I at what was to come. As for Tito. .

I spared a glance behind me. Though he, too, kept a neutral countenance to his pockmarked face, his dark eyes burned with eagerness. Abruptly, I wondered if his insistence in launching this rescue mission came less from concern over my father and the Master and more from a feeling of high adventure. For surely in every young man lurked a secret dream of facing down an army single-handedly while defeating a cruel duke and rescuing a duchess.

I had no time to reflect further on this, however, for we had reached the portcullis. One of the guards, stave in hand, peered through the wood and iron grille at us. Recognizing Rebecca, he barked, “You, washerwoman, what is your business?”

“Foolish man, you know my business.”

Grinning broadly, she tossed the reins to me and hopped from the cart. “I’ve come to finish the laundry,” she declared as she approached the gate. “My boys and me, we worked all day the last time we was here, but there was more laundry than we could do in a day. I promised the kitchen master I’d return today to finish the job.”

The guard’s frown deepened. “No one’s allowed in or out, not without the captain’s approval. Can’t you see that Pontalba is under siege by Milan?”

“Under siege?”

Gasping, she clutched at her large bosom and whirled about with great drama to survey the clearing. Then, with a chuckle, she turned back to the guard.

“Pah, do you mean those poor excuses for soldiers that I saw lurking about in the forest? They did not look like men ready to fight.”

A second guard had joined the first and was listening with some interest to Rebecca’s report. He shoved a sharp elbow into his fellow soldier’s ribs and grinned while Rebecca preened and smirked, swaying her broad skirts in a seductive manner.

“Pah, I think they’re less than men, if you know what I mean. The ones I saw were too busy with dice or drink to notice a comely woman come across their path, let alone summon the energy to fight. Why, I was almost here to your gate before they noticed that I had passed by.”

The first guard was grinning, as well, and he exchanged glances with his fellow. “Why don’t we let the washerwoman in, and she can tell us about everything she saw in the forest.”

“I’ll tell you that gladly, and more,” she replied with a bawdy wink, “but you must let my boys gather the laundry while we talk. A lady has to earn a few soldi, you know.”

The guards stepped away from the gate to discuss the matter, surely a favorable sign. I pretended disinterest in the entire process, though my heart pounded so wildly that I was certain it must be noticeable even through the tightly laced corset I wore beneath my tunic. After an interminable few moments, they came to a decision.

“You can come in,” the fi rst guard declared, “but you cannot stay long. Let your boys gather the laundry, and you’re off. There’s a stream not far from the castle where you can do your washing, if you have no fear of Milan’s soldiers.”

“Pah, I know how to handle soldiers,” she said with another broad wink for the pair before she climbed back into the wagon again. The rumble and squeak of chains followed as the gate rolled up once more to let us inside the castle walls.

We rolled to a stop just inside the gate, and the second guard took hold of the horse’s bridle. Rebecca climbed down once more, while Tito scrambled into her seat and took up the reins. Her bawdy grin dropped for an instant, and I was alarmed to see the look of exhausted pain in her face. In the next moment, however, the grin was back as she made mock shooing motions at us.

“Off with you, boys, and be quick. Gather the laundry and put it in the baskets, and come back here. I’ll be waiting with these fine gentlemen,” she declared, giving us a significant look as she hooked an arm through each of the soldiers’ elbows.

Tito nodded and lightly whipped up the mare.

“Can you believe our good fortune?” I murmured to him as we headed toward the kitchens. “We can hide my father and the duchess inside the baskets and smuggle them out that way. The guards will not question us or look inside, for they gave us leave to bring laundry back through the gates again.”

“Or perhaps it is another trick.” He slanted me an unreadable look and added, “You should beware, Dino, lest you be too readily fooled. The world is far more complicated than you might think.”

Stung a bit by his dismissal of my enthusiasm, I made no reply as he pulled the cart to a halt alongside the kitchens. A few of the kitchen boys were milling about, but they spared us no more than a glance. I wondered if the rest of the castle realized that they were supposedly on the brink of siege. Surely everyone should be making preparations for a possible attack, I thought in some confusion.

I wondered, as well, what had happened to Leonardo’s grand chariot. We had passed by the main doors leading to the great hall, and I’d not seen it there. It was far too unwieldy to store away in the stables along with the other carts and wagons.

I frowned as the most likely possibility came to me. Doubtless the Duke of Pontalba had seen the glorious invention and, as he had with the flying machine, decided to claim it for his own. Perhaps it sat in one of the inner courtyards awaiting Nicodemo’s dubious pleasure.