David Blixt - The Master of Verona

"May I open my eyes?" Receiving assent, Katerina glanced about the carriage interior. Pietro pointed to the seat he was on and she raised an eyebrow, wondering how the child had noted the compartment's existence. The telltale hinges were well concealed in the woodwork.

As the carriage reached a complete stop, the occupants heard the drivers leap off and approach them from either side. Fingering the hilt of the dagger, Pietro called out, "What's happening?"

"The way is blocked! A tree fell across the road ahead! We'll have to send for help!"

"We'll wait in here, then," called Pietro. "We're all pretty tired! Why don't you unhitch the horses and ride back to Cangrande!"

"We need to talk to you!" the speaker responded. This one seemed to be doing all the talking. Where's the other one?

After a pause in which Pietro failed to emerge, the speaker continued. "We have orders not to leave the boy alone."

"We'll be here with him! Leave us a sword, and we'll be fine!"

"Why don't you come out and we'll discuss it!"

This was getting bad. Pietro decided to try a different tack. "I can't walk! My bad leg, it's seized up!"

"Then open the door and we'll help you out!"

Seeing Pietro at a loss, his father piped up. "He's got to rest it, and the boy is asleep. Just go!"

There was no answer. Pietro motioned for Katerina to move to the center of her bench, away from the doors, then changed his mind and ushered her into his own seat. He placed himself in the center of the empty bench. He needed freedom of movement. There was no telling which side the attack, when it came, would begin. If the grooms were planning to assault the carriage, they'd open both at once. He leaned against the wall by the left-hand door. His right arm would have better range of motion. If someone came in through that door, he would receive a blade in the eye. Then Pietro could wrench another weapon free and attack the other.

But no attack came.

Cangrande and Morsicato galloped up the muddy road in the darkness. The Scaliger carried a torch overhead, using it to make out the carriage tracks that were devilish hard to see.

The doctor called out, "We have to overtake them soon."

Cangrande slowed a bit to let Morsicato catch up to him, twisting in the saddle to examine the trees about them. Just as the doctor pulled level, the Capitano shouted, "Archers!" He pointed with the torch.

Morsicato twisted to follow the Capitano's indication but was struck a blow on the head. As he toppled from the saddle, the last conscious sensation he could make out was the smell of burning skin.

There was a rustling sound under Pietro's seat. Katerina whispered harshly, "Cesco! Stop fidgeting!" The rustling stopped. They waited in more silence. The curtains over the windows were drawn, but they knew their attackers were outside. Every now and then a torch moved in the darkness, shifting the light hitting the curtain.

Pietro smelled the smoke before he heard the crackle. "Oh no."

"What?" frowned Dante. Katerina was already looking to see where the smoke would come from.

"The bastards have set the coach on fire." Smoke poured in through the floor. The fire was catching faster than he could imagine. Pietro's breath choked. "Must have been covering the thing with pitch. That's what they were-" He was unable to say more through the coughs that racked his lungs.

There was nothing for it, they had to risk the door. Pietro handed his father the cane, pointed at the right door, then kicked open the left. As Dante worked the handle on his side, Pietro stabbed into the smoky darkness opposite with his dagger, hoping to feint the murderers out of position. But if these men had sense they'd be well back from the carriage, waiting for their prey to run into their waiting arms.

Which is what we're about to do.

As Dante bolted out the right-hand door, Katerina lifted the lid of the bench under her. "Cesco!"

There was no answer.

Ducking out the right-hand door after his father, Pietro limped heavily down to the ground. His father was just outside, the cane raised high over his head, ready to fell any attacker. Pietro took position on the other side of the door, every muscle tight, his lungs burning. His watering eyes were blinking furiously and he didn't see the figure approaching in the smoke. He bent to cough and the sword stroke missed his head by a fraction. He gasped and lunged, burying the dagger all the way to the hilt in the man's thigh. Pietro's momentum continued carrying him forward, toppling both him and his assailant to the earth. Dante was over them a second later, using the cane to club the villainous groom senseless.

Inside the burning carriage Katerina's left hand searched the compartment. She reared back with a shriek, her flesh smoking. The compartment was already burning. Choked, faint, she was unable to call for Cesco. Yet she couldn't leave. She reached down again, willing herself to ignore the pain. Her fingers encountered burning straw, and for a moment she believed it was hair. She clutched and pulled at it, scalding her hands on a sizzling chamber pot that she tossed aside. She smelled her own flesh burning, yet didn't stop digging, throwing the burning thatch this way and that, until her hands felt the floor of the compartment.

Empty.

She heard the hoofbeats. A horse approached. Friend or foe, she couldn't be bothered. Where was Cesco? Where where where ?

In the smoke outside, Pietro watched his father continue to beat at the groom's head with a fury that was surprising. Then he saw a glint of light from the fire reflecting a few feet away. A sword, an axe, something deadly. The hand that gripped it aiming for the great poet's back. Pietro was too choked to cry out. He was weaponless. He tried to stand, but his body failed him at last. There were no more reserves, nothing he could do to save his father's life. He watched as the weapon's blade began its descent.

There was an ugly clang, metal on metal. The weapon fell away as the attacker turned to his right. A gust of wind showed a surprised expression cross his face. "But my lord!" Then his face split apart as a sword hacked down with an incredible force.

It was a sword Pietro recognized. Cangrande had come. Thank God!

Collapsing to the ground with another fit of coughing, Pietro felt himself get dragged a few feet away from the blaze where it was easier to breathe. Twisting around onto his back, he saw Dante point towards the carriage, gasping out some words in Cangrande's ear. The Scaliger dashed into the blazing conveyance. A moment later Katerina reeled from the carriage, wrapped in her brother's arms. She screamed and fought, kicking and clawing to return to the flames. Her sleeve was on fire, her left hand and arm and shoulder burnt and blistered, her hair singed and black. Cangrande threw her to the earth and rolled her back and forth to extinguish the flames. She coughed and screamed, desperate to return to the carriage that was nothing but a shell of raging fire.

Her brother gripped her right wrist as she struggled. "Kat — your baby! Stop fighting, damn it! The baby!" She moaned once as she fell to the earth, her hands on her belly but her eyes on the fire.

Cangrande paced over to the man Dante had beaten and checked to see if he was breathing. He must not have been, for Cangrande lifted the lifeless body over his shoulders and pitched it headfirst into the blaze. He did the same for the man he had killed. He then joined Dante and Pietro, kneeling by Katerina's side as they watched the fire. After several minutes Katerina spoke.

"He wasn't there." It took her several breaths to speak again, and when she was able, all she could do was repeat this single fact. "He wasn't there! He wasn't there, he wasn't there, he wasn't there!"