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.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Word Count: 1000
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
The trip to Rome was long and arduous. The whole trip would take nearly two weeks, but we had only been traveling for two days when the journey was cut short by unexpected visitors.
While we trotted through the countryside on dirt roads that wove through vineyards and villages, a troupe of five riders galloped to catch up with us.
Francesco and I led our mounts off the side of the road, expecting the soldiers to charge past, but instead they slowed and began to circle around us. We were trapped.
"What is the meaning of this?" Francesco barked.
"This woman is under arrest," said the leader of the group. I didn't recognize him and was quite sure I would have remembered such a brutal face. A jagged scar ran down his cheek, and his eyes were as dark as night.
Gaping, I spluttered, "Whatever for?" I had already been released by Bastiano Soderini. As my eyes took in the guards' uniforms, I noticed that they did not bear any recognizable insignias, meaning they didn't come from Florence or Rome.
"You can take that up with my master," he grunted just before his horse sidled up next to mine and he lunged across to grab me, pulling me from the saddle while I yelled in protest.
Francesco had no weapon to draw, so he tried to get to me and beat the man who dared lay a finger on me. The other guards had moved in though, blocking his path.
"Who is your master!" I demanded once the guard had me seated before him in the saddle. His arm wrapped around me in a vise grip.
"Messer Sforza, Madonna. He was very excited to learn that you're still alive."
My blood ran cold.
"No," I breathed. It simply couldn't be. We had been so careful. We sent a letter. We sent a finger with my ring! How could Sforza have possibly learned the truth all these years later?
"Hiya!" The soldier spurred his horse into a fast gallop, taking me in the opposite direction of Rome.
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
Francesco followed us for days. Every morning the soldiers laughed about the young man's horse struggling to keep up with their war-bred mounts. Every evening they searched the perimeter of the camp to make sure he didn't interfere. They never found him, but I knew he was never far.
"Who is he?" the captain of the troupe asked me one evening by the fire.
I huddled close to the flames with my cloak held tightly around my thin frame. My eyes slowly drug up to meet the captain's dark eyes, but I only gave him a glare. "Who are you referring to, Messer?" I asked with false politeness and sarcasm dripping from my tone.
"The man you were traveling with."
If they didn't know, then it meant I hadn't been betrayed by someone in Florence. Guglielmo or Bastiano were not to blame. Had they been the whistleblowers, they would have mentioned my relations with Francesco.
Knowing that if they figured out Francesco's identity there would be hell to pay, I didn't reply. Rather, I ignored the captain entirely and put my hands out to warm my palms by the fire.
"Speak, woman," he grunted as he threw down his sword into the dirt. "Tell me, or I will order my men to find him and kill him."
"You don't want to do that," I said calmly even while my heart raced. Francesco seemed to always be in peril these days, and my nerves could only take so much.
"And why is that?"
"Because if you knew who he was, you'd realize what a terrible mistake killing him would be."
He pursed his lips, then smirked. "There's an easy way around that. We can just torture him."
My heart hammered hard in my chest. "I wouldn't do that either."
The captain jolted up from his seat by the fire. I jumped at the sudden movement as he stormed around and grabbed me by the chin. "You're fortunate Sforza wishes to deal with you himself. A woman with a tongue like yours doesn't deserve my good behavior."
I tried to pull my face away, but he jerked my chin to keep me still.
"I would be careful if I were you," he warned. "My master won't be as lenient as I if you offend him tomorrow." Dropping my chin, he shoved my face one last time, but I hung on to his final words.
"Tomorrow?" I asked. "Sforza has left Milan to meet me?"
"As I said, he was very eager to learn you were still alive."
I tried to gulp, but my constricted throat wouldn't let me. Tomorrow I was meeting Sforza. The man who was known for legendary brutality such as ripping limbs off of his victims, strangling, starving, or nailing them to coffins.
I feared what he would do to me for escaping.
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
I prayed Francesco would stay away the morning we rode into the countryside to meet the Duke of Milan. The captain had already threatened to hurt or kill Francesco, and there was no telling what they do with him if they learned his true identity.
As we charged down the dirt road, it became difficult to see through the thick cloud of dirt and dust stirred up in our wake, but a carriage and three other guards came into view at the top of a field around midday. The closer we got, the more panicked I became. I debated throwing myself off the horse and making a run for it. I even considered attempting to steal the captain's sword, though I didn't know how to wield it.
Once we stopped several meters away from the Duke, I was pulled from the saddle and instructed to walk. I craned my neck to look for Francesco possibly riding in the distance, but I saw nothing and the captain shoved me forward.
At the top of the hill, the Duke turned, and I froze.
