David Blixt - The Master of Verona

Bonaventura was far less sober, but just as adamant. "I agree. Hurting children! I'd like to take him home and let my brood at him."

Nearby, Uguccione shook the water out of his long hair. "But instead of that, all our men are hunting for your idiot cousin."

Bonaventura belched. "He'll turn up. He always does."

"I delegated and put Montecchio in charge of finding him," said Nico. "He's had the luck today."

At that very moment a grizzled old soldier stepped forward. "My lords — you'd best come see this."

"You find Ferdinando?" demanded Bonaventura.

"Yes, lord. But there's something else."

A quality in the man's tone made several other men follow behind Nico, Bonaventura, and Uguccione. After a winding walk through the wood, they came to a body. Young Montecchio was kneeling beside it. The figure was draped in a cloak the mirror of Mariotto's own, but this cloak was stained with blood.

Nico bolted forward. "Oh God. Mari — is it..?"

Mariotto gingerly turned the shoulders of the dead man, tenderly shielding the face from the rain as he removed the gilded helmet. Everyone stood for a long time without speaking.

Another blue-cloaked figure came riding over in haste. Benvenito reined in close by and dropped lightly from his saddle. "Mariotto! Somebody said-"

Mariotto remained kneeling in the mud, looking down at the face that had always, but for one night, looked severe and reserved. Now the features were relaxed, peaceful. So should every man look, the assembled men thought, as he found himself at his Creator's knee.

"Ambushed, looks like," said Bonaventura, sobering swiftly.

Benvenito glanced up sharply. "By whom? A Paduan?"

"No. Not a Paduan." Tenderly Mariotto laid his father's head to the ground. Pulling hard, he removed a silver dagger from his father's armpit. He had to work hard to slide it out, showing how forceful a blow the killing stroke had been. He wiped the blood from it on his own cloak. There, etched on the blade, was his own name.

A murmur of voices from up the hillside, then a pair of figures came into the clearing under the tree. Luigi and Antony Capulletto walked forward into the light of the torches. Antony said, "We saw the lights on the hill. What's happened? Are they found?"

"Capulletto," said Nico softly, "you don't want to be here right now."

"Why?" Antony looked at the dead body. "Who is it?"

Mariotto's head rose. Uguccione saw his muscles tense. So did Nico. As Mariotto sprang forward they were there, wrapping their arms about Montecchio to restrain him. Mariotto struggled fiercely as he shouted, "Bastard! Coward! Can't even come at me face to face! You have to stab in the back! Only you missed! You missed !"

Antony turned red. "If I wanted you dead, Mari, you'd be dead!"

"Christ, Capulletto," murmured Bonaventura, "shut up, can't you?"

"I will when you tell me who the hell is that dead man?"

Benvenito answered. "Aurelia's father. His father." He jerked his thumb at Mariotto.

Antony went from red to ashen in an instant. "No!"

Mariotto's face streamed tears. "You jumped-up nobody! She'd never have you! Kill me and she still wouldn't come to you!"

Antony realized why everyone's eyes were upon him. "No! I didn't — the old man was kind to me — stood with me against his son! Why would I want him dead?"

Mariotto raised the silver dagger in his hand. "Because you thought it was me! Me!"

Antony stared at the knife, a horrified look on his face. "Where did you get that?"

"From my father's corpse! Can't tell a young man from an old, but you can tell back to front! You lily-livered coward!"

"Mariotto," said Uguccione in his ear, "calm yourself. I'll arrest him for this-"

"No! Let me loose, damn you!" Mari strained against the men holding him. "You want a fight, Capulletto? You want a duel? Fine! Here, now. Daggers only. You can use the one you stabbed my father with!"

Antony held out his hands. "I swear, I threw it away! I dropped that thing this afternoon!" Looking at the faces around him, it was clear that no one believed him. "I did!"

"Everyone heard you, Antony!" Mari turned savagely to face Bonaventura. "You heard him, didn't you?"

"Well, I — "

Capulletto interrupted. "I was going to-"

"What? What? Embrace me, then stab me in the back like you did my father !" Breaking loose of the arms restraining him, Mariotto took up a fighting stance. "Come on! Come on!"

Crimson crept back into Antony's face. "Listen, you little shit! I didn't kill him!"

"But you'd kill me, or someone who looked like me!"

"No!"

"Then prove it! Prove it! Win your life before God, and walk away with my blood on your dagger too. For if you don't, I swear, Capulletto, by all I hold dear, I swear on my marriage, on my wife's life, that I will never rest until your whole line are as dead as my father!"

Antony's rage broke at last. "Then come on, boy, and try your accusations with a weapon sharper than your tongue!"

Uguccione shouted, "Arrest them! Both of them! They're breaking the law and are subject to punishment. By the Capitano's own orders, there will be no dueling in his lands. Beat down their weapons! Bind them if you must, but get them out of here!"

As they were dragged away, Antony was spitting curses and epithets that Mari hurled back in equal number. Uguccione sighed. "Bonaventura, go find Bailardino and tell him about this mess. Someone find Montecchio's wife. And Benvenito, make sure his sister his safe. She needs to be told, and Montecchio is in no fit state." He turned to Luigi. "I don't suppose you can tell me if your brother did this?"

"I can't tell you he didn't," said Luigi with a sad look. "We parted on the road, and I only found him a few minutes ago."

"Very well. I would appreciate it if you would go tell your father that we've arrested your brother, and things look bad for him. That knife is pretty damning."

Luigi said, "It certainly is. I'll leave right now."

"Thank you." Uguccione was disturbed by the whisper of a smile on Luigi's face as he departed. He arranged for the body to be moved to Castello Montecchio. Mariotto would be released in a couple of hours to make the arrangements for the funeral. For he was now Lord of Montecchio.

If ghosts haunt the places where they have work yet unfinished, the spirit of Gargano Montecchio remained, watching the rebirth of a feud, an ancient grudge broken to new mutiny.

Just when Pietro believed they had no choice but to jump, the carriage slowed. They were stopping. He was weaponless but for his cane, returned to him by the Capitano's men. He gripped it tightly.

Cesco had fallen asleep. He woke now with a rush. "Are we there yet?"

"We're stopping," replied Pietro. "Cesco, I hear you're good at hiding. Do you see anyplace you can hide in here?"

Cesco looked up at Donna Katerina. She asked him, "Where would you hide, Francesco?" He shook his head. "Of course you can. You always know where to hide." Cesco grinned and shook his head again.

Dante interrupted. "Madonna, if I may. Child, do you know a place to hide?"

The child nodded.

"Then why didn't you-" began Katerina.

Dante smiled in spite of their predicament. "I think he doesn't want you to see it."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!"

"Madonna, we have little time. If you wouldn't mind…?"

With an exasperated sigh, Katerina della Scala covered her eyes with her hands. Immediately the child jumped up and pushed Pietro out of his seat. Lifting the cushion Pietro had been sitting on, he opened a wooden lid that led to a small compartment. In it were riding clothes, an empty chamber pot, and the various necessities of a lady who travels a great deal. Cesco hopped inside and began to close the lid. Pietro stopped him, his eyes having caught something in the gloomy light. Reaching in, he pulled a dagger out of the compartment, then rubbed Cesco's head. "It'll be better than the cave. Nothing will fall on you." With one last look to make certain Donna Katerina's eyes were well and truly covered, Cesco ducked into the compartment and closed the lid. Pietro replaced the cushion and resumed his seat.