Working for Francesco Pazzi was the last place she expected to find herself. She expected even less to grow to like the job. Falling for him was the biggest surprise of all.
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Word Count: 1030
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The very next morning, the guards returned to drag us both out of the prison. Panic seized me when they bound our hands with ropes and took us out into the light of dawn. The gallows were not far from sight. I looked to Francesco with wide eyes, fearful that they might try to hang him or both of us this time.
The soldiers kept us apart. When I tried to walk towards Francesco, I was yanked back by my hair, eliciting a hiss of pain.
"Don't touch her!" Francesco roared. He moved, and two guards appeared before him to hold him back.
"Enough of this," Bastiano Soderini sighed as he joined us outside the prison. "Let them go already."
A knife flicked out of a belt, and my bindings were cut.
As soon as Francesco was released, I shouldered past the spiteful guards and threw myself at him. His arm wrapped protectively around me as we stood together to face Bastiano.
Shifting on his feet, Bastiano couldn't look either of us in the eye. No doubt he still harbored mixed feelings about what we rightfully deserved. His own father had been murdered sometime during Jacopo Pazzi's scheming. But then again, he had seen with his own eyes the miracle that occurred at the Palazzo de Signoria. God himself had spared Francesco from death.
"You're both free to go," Bastiano grunted. I could scarcely believe the words that came from his mouth. "However, the Pazzi name is to be expunged from the city and all of Italy. Your own brother along with his wife and child have been exiled. I suggest you stay far away. Both of you."
Francesco's fingers tightened. His fingertips pressed a little harder into my shoulder.
Similarly, I was at a loss for words. For one, I couldn't believe that Lorenzo would exile his own sister and nephew. For another, I couldn't believe we were set free. Both of us.
Bastiano dismissively shooed us with his hand. He looked far from pleased with his decree, so I decided not to test his limits. Pulling on Francesco's arm, I urged him to leave with me quickly. The sooner we got out of the town, the better. The more distance we put between us and Florence, the better too.
The moment we reached the town's outskirts, I darted a glance at Francesco to gauge his thoughts, but he continued to stare wide-eyed and disbelieving at the dirt road before him.
"Do you think your brother would take us in?" I asked. Our first priority would be to meet basic needs. Food, water, shelter. Guglielmo might have been able to provide all of them.
Francesco continued to stare off in a daze.
"Francesco," I pressed. "Your brother. Do you know where he would go? And do you think he would take us in?"
Jolted slightly by my prompting, he stammered, "I— Uh— Yes. He probably took Bianca and their child to my uncle's summer home in the northern vineyards. I can't speak on his willingness to receive us though."
"It's worth a try at least, yes?"
"Any other city would take one look at me and want me dead," he stated drily. "Guglielmo is the only family I have left. He may be my only hope."
I slapped my palm into his and grappled to squeeze his fingers. "You have me. How many times do I have to tell you this, Francesco?" My throat tightened as frustration threatened to spill out. Had he not tried so hard to push me away, many of the unfortunate acts that transpired could have been thwarted.
His hand didn't squeeze back. No doubt he felt undeserving. "It will take us the rest of the day to reach the northern town. Are you able to walk much longer?"
Either he underestimated me or he worried that my constitution had been weakened from the events of the past few days. I pursed my lips, giving him a withering look. "Francesco. I once walked for a week straight to get to Milan. A day of walking will not kill me."
His eyes flit over to give me a sheepish look. "I— I forget that sometimes. You were Sforza's pawn, but before that... How did you live before?"
My gut twisted uncomfortably. After all our time together, we had always left my past unspoken. I supposed it was only fair to tell him my story now after his own dirty secrets were brought to light. "I was a criminal before that. I lied, cheated, swindled, and stole. I had more aliases than I can recall, and I've probably seen more of Italy's cities than you since I moved around so much."
He didn't interrupt. Rather, he lifted his eyes when appropriate to look at me and gauge my expressions. So much of our conversations took place in silent cues. A tilt of a head, a quirk of a brow, or a twitch of a hand. I knew his ticks better than my own at this point.
"Back then, I justified it all because I took from people I thought could go without, but I was wrong. I pray now every day that God will forgive me for that dark time in my life."
"Do you think he has?"
"He promises in His word that he will forgive those who ask. So I have to believe it." I inhaled, then sighed deeply. "My biggest problem has been forgiving myself. There's no justifying it. All I can do is own my mistakes and do better."
"Hmm." He thoughtfully turned his eyes ahead again. By the way his brows drew together, I longed to know his thoughts.
"Francesco?"
He glanced back at me.
"I think we should find a stream to wash up in before we walk into any more towns." We were both still covered in dirt, scrapes, and blood from the fateful day in Florence. Francesco especially looked horrifying with his blood-splattered cloak. Dirt and grime hid most of the scrapes and blood on his face, but he still appeared rather terrifying.
He subconsciously rubbed at his cheek but agreed nonetheless to stop at the first creek we could find.
