David Blixt - The Master of Verona

Yet — yet he wasn't through. He was the Greyhound, he felt it in his bones. With or without the boy, he would carry out the plans he and the Count had made. He would redeem the blood that flowed through his veins, and in so doing, he would redeem himself before God.

The boy's death, though regrettable, meant nothing in the end.

It was an hour before sunset and Mariotto's men were riding yet again along the river bank looking for a sign, any sign. They were all tired, huddling under their capes and hoods for protection from the rain that was obliterating any traces that Pietro may have left.

Mariotto was doing his best to hide his fatigue as he pushed his men further. He shared the fear that their quest was hopeless, but refused to be the first to turn back. His thoughts were so focused on home and hearth that when he heard the noise he didn't register it as important. Then slowly he became conscious of a sound different from rain and river and horses and trees in the wind. They were voices. A man's and a woman's, to be precise, issuing orders loudly. Gesturing to his men, Mariotto set out to find the sound's source.

As they rode, the voices grew in number and in volume. Mariotto's troop arrived at a clearing high on a hill. There were several Scaligeri soldiers about, their armour discarded, their arms tossed aside as they knelt around the base of a toppled tree. The tree didn't so much look fallen as sunken, held aloft by branches stuck on other trees.

In the midst of the diggers knelt the Capitano, using his breastplate to scoop up and toss aside clods of damp soil. Others were doing the same. Standing at one side was the Scaliger's sister, still clad in male attire. By the way her weight shifted back and forth it was clear she wanted to dig, but was withholding herself in favor of her physical superiors.

Dismounting, Mari made his way carefully along the slippery slope to the lady's side. "Donna, what news?"

Cheeks flushed and lips tight, Katerina said, "Mariotto! Thank God! This is the cave, isn't it? Your brother-in-law gave directions. Bonifacio hinted that Cesco and Detto were under the earth." She gestured to the base of the hill. "We arrived to find the cave collapsed. They're buried in there. We're trying to dig them out!"

It took Mariotto only a moment of thinking before he cried, "What a fool I am! It's perfect! But do we know that this is what Bonifacio's hint…?"

"There are traces in the part of the tunnel uncollapsed. Hoofprints. Pietro's shirt, boots, and cane. They were here — and they were buried. The position of the tree, look at it. It fell in the last couple of hours, the side leaning away from the rain is still soaked."

Unable to argue with her reasoning, Mari volunteered to help. As he stripped off his armour he asked, "Where can we best be of service?"

Katerina looked at her brother, already knee-deep in a hole he and twenty knights had made. "Start in the tunnel. We began here to provide us with more room — there's nowhere to throw the excess dirt down there. But if your men set up a relay, tossing the rubble outside, you might have better luck."

Mariotto touched his hand to his forehead and ran skidding down the mud-strewn hill, one hand on the felled tree for balance. Behind him the tree's roots angled towards the black and grey sky, twisting like fingers reaching for God.

He and two of his men plunged into the dark tunnel. A torch was lit, and by its light they used breastplates to stab, then cup the fallen earth, passing them back through a line of men to be tossed aside at the tunnel's mouth. Soon they had a rhythm going, and they could sing, grunt, and chant in time to their labours.

After considerable time Mariotto emerged to let someone take his place at the head of the chain. Rubbing his aching arms, he let the rain fall over his hands to cleanse them. He wished the storm would abate. By now the cellars of Castello Montecchio would be flooded, and the chicken coops, and the kennels. He would listen again to his father's declaration that this was the year they'd dig the drainage ditch, as he had each time the summer rains came. Mari hadn't realized how much he'd missed home and family.

He kept stretching out his arms, working the life back into them, and as he did he walked, looking over his father's land. His land. He was almost out of earshot of the digging when he decided to turn back.

The wind changed direction just then, and the rain's force eased just a fraction. In that moment a noise came to Mariotto's ears, a gentle mewing like a that of a cat crying. Picking up a tree limb, Mariotto followed the sound, straining his ears over the cries of men and the fall of rain. Was that something shifting behind that tree? Was it-?

A horse. Pietro's palfrey, well hidden and tied to a tree. Huddled under a cloak beneath the horse was a tiny figure.

Mariotto ran over and lifted the cloak's edge. A terrified toddler, too small to be Cangrande's bastard, looked out at him with red-rimmed eyes. Mariotto laid his sword aside and crouched down. "Hello there. You must be Detto. We haven't met yet. My name's Mari."

Luigi Capulletto stood looking at the chance fate had granted him. Dared he take it?

Spurring away from his brother, he'd then concealed himself in the trees and watched his brother pass him in turn. Luigi had been convinced that Antony had an idea of where the children were — he'd been too quiet, too remote, not his usual gregarious self. It was just like Antony to bait Luigi into leaving so that he could have the honour of saving Cangrande's son all to himself. So Luigi had followed his hated brother.

But the fool hadn't found the child. He'd found the girl instead. To Luigi's intense pleasure, he saw his brother's rejection at her hands. After everyone had left, Luigi had retrieved the silver dagger with Mari's name etched into it. At the time he hadn't known why he did it. Now it was clear. He would ruin his brother once and for all.

Bending down, he began to work the dagger into place.

Filthy, weary, Cangrande stood flexing his arms, his eyes on the pool of water that was filling the pit his men were frantically digging. There were hissing torches and covered lanterns all about, and more men arriving every minute, bringing with them pickaxes, spades, and dogs. Beside him was his sister. Their combined attention was so intent on the earth being shifted, the buckets of water being removed from the crater, the incredible slowness of it all, that they didn't notice a young man slip up beside them. "Madonna Nogarola? I think this young fellow belongs to you."

" Mama !" The toddler threw himself towards her, careless of his injured arm. Exhausted with fear, he collapsed against his mother's chest.

Heads came up from the pit. In a ringing voice Mari quickly explained. All the joyful mother could manage was, "Thank you, Mariotto. Thank you!"

This fresh success gave them all heart to continue at breakneck pace. Cangrande embraced Mariotto, just as covered in muck as himself. "Good God, Mari, you look like you just climbed out of your own grave. Good work. Perhaps in our haste we have overlooked some other clues out in the brush. Could you take a few of the more tired men and search the woods hereabouts? We can keep at the digging." The Capitano gestured to the fresh reserves just arriving.

Detto's father was among the latest arrivals. Seeing his son, Bailardino bellowed for joy. Katerina passed Detto, already asleep, to the weak-kneed father, who refused to let his firstborn out of his grasp for the rest of the night.

As ordered, Mariotto took some tired workers and led them down the slopes with torches and dogs. Cangrande followed him but turned away at the base, angling instead for the mouth of the tunnel. Beside the opening of the cave there was a growing mound of excavated earth. The Scaliger announced the discovery of one child, giving them even more incentive to find the other.