The Master of Verona

Antonia took her time at the river. When she looked respectable again, she woke Rolando from his nap and set off in a roundabout path for the castle. She was in no hurry to get there. Arriving alone would cause a stir, and Gargano shouldn't learn of his son's return from a slip of a girl he barely knew. That was up to Mariotto and Gianozza.

Paolo and Francesca, she thought with wry disgust. She'd laughed at the Paris-Helen-Menelaus triad her father had coined just after Gianozza's marriage. After that there had been Arthur, Guenivere, and Lancelot jokes. But Paolo and Francesca? Well, Gianozza had always said it was Dante's poetry that brought Mariotto to her. People just don't understand that story.

Antonia and Rolando strolled along the stream, looking at the green mosses and listening to the birds. When the mastiff sniffed some prey out, Antonia released him, then settled herself on a rock beneath a shady tree to wait. They were near Ser Bonaventura's land, Gianozza had said. Maybe she should go see Ferdinando. She had thought up some particularly demeaning taunts since their last encounter.

It bothered her that her feelings were so obvious that Gianozza could tease her about them. She hadn't really admitted to herself that she had grown to rather like Petruchio's awkward cousin. That they were consistently mean to each other was their defense, the unspoken agreement between them, each keeping the other at bay.

She forced herself to think of her father's work, determined not to think about that person. It was growing late when she finally angled back towards the castle. In another hour the sky would begin to redden. If they aren't done by now… Antonia primly refused to finish the thought.

Castello Montecchio stood at a hilltop some five miles southwest of Vicenza. Built on the ruins of a similar fortress constructed some centuries before, the new castle was well fortified. The horse stables for which the Montecchi were famous weren't within the castle, but had a separate walled compound to the north.

As Antonia drew close to the castle, she began to wonder. There seemed to be more men-at-arms on the ramparts of the castle walls than when she'd set out this morning. It was a little unnerving, seeing the lines of spears and helmets. Squinting up, she saw that all the soldiers were turned inward, looking down from the high walls into the main yard.

She managed to keep the mastiff restrained as she walked through the main gate. A hundred mounted men-at-arms occupied the yard in front of her with their squires, pages, and extra mounts. Among them their pages dashed, unstrapping a buckle here, replacing a thrown shoe there. The soldiers sat on their horse's backs, waiting for orders. Several had dismounted and now strolled through the compound to stretch their legs.

Antonia saw a face she knew, though not a face she was looking for. God, what is he doing here, today of all days? Approaching him she said, "Ser Capulletto?"

Antony turned at once, hoping she was someone else. Seeing who it was, he still smiled and greeted her. She asked what brought him here. "We've just been told that Padua's breaking its treaty," he told her. "My guess is that we've come to ram it down their throats. Uguccione is leading us, and he says we're to wait in these parts until we're needed." He glanced down at her. "You look like you've been rolling in the mud."

"Gianozza and I were out for a walk…"

"Yes, Gianozza. Where is she?" He tried to make it sound casual.

Antonia hedged. "I came back without her."

"You mean she's in the forest alone? Antonia, there're Paduans about! Spies and mercenaries, not to mention wild animals!"

"She's not alone," said Antonia quickly. "She — ran into an acquaintance and they fell to — talking."

"I'm going out there." Antony turned to his groom. "Andriolo, my horse!"

O God, isn't this a disaster in the making? She opened her mouth to say something, anything. But a louder voice called, "Capulletto! I need you!"

It was on the tip of Capulletto's to snarl that he was busy, but he caught himself and walked to where Uguccione della Faggiuola waited in the company of Lord Montecchio and several other leading Veronese. Antonia followed, jostling though the crowd of soldiers and servants. Here were the familiar faces of Nico da Lozzo and Ser Petruchio Bonaventura, whose grin shone from under his beard. "Got my orders," he rumbled delightedly. "A leader of men at last. Won't that amuse my Kate."

"Take her mind off that bun in her oven," remarked Nico.

"The way she gets around while preggers, I doubt she's noticed it yet."

"How long have you been married, now?" asked Nico da Lozzo.

"Two and a half years," the proud husband declared.

"Two years, and four children," said Nico, clucking his tongue derisively. "Blessed with fertility! A girl, then twin boys."