The Master of Verona

Dante could hear nothing over the noise in the tunnel. "Singing?"

Cangrande snarled, "Quiet, you bastards!"

The men quieted, listening. All digging stopped. When they heard it, so faint it was barely distinguishable, they hardly believed their ears.

Hear the tramp, tramp

Foot soldiers stamp.

Tramp tramp tramp tramp tramp!

Hear how they go!

More than a voice. Two voices, both weak. Grasping a shovel, Cangrande began shifting earth with all his might. Dante and Jacopo joined him and the others as they pulled and rent the earth wide.

A hand appeared before their eyes. They heaved on it, but dislodged the roof, and the arm disappeared again in a fresh fall of earth. They worked to brace the top of the tunnel so that nothing more fell. The hand clawed free again. They made a hole, all the time shouting the names Pietro and Cesco.

"We're here!" came the faint reply.

They dug harder. Suddenly a hole opened and Pietro Alaghieri lunged sideways out of it. It was not pure air he emerged into, but enough like it to be a breath of spring. He blinked, obviously unable to make out shapes after the endless dark.

Dante and Cangrande stared back at him. "Pietro? Are you all right? How are you, boy?"

Pietro laughed, but it came out as a cough. Someone handed a wineskin forward, but he shook his head. He retreated into the alcove of space and air under the fallen support beams that had saved his life. Dante reached after him, but Cangrande restrained the poet, lest he collapse the makeshift supports wedged above them.

Another shape began to emerge from the little gap, a child as black as night, with eyes as wide as the new moon. He looked around the way Pietro had, unseeing at first. But something cued him to the presence of his favorite playmate, for he cried out, "Cesco!"

"Cesco!" echoed Cangrande, hauling the child through the opening and carrying him past the throng of cheering men and out into the rain.

Awaiting news, Katerina actually fell to her knees when she saw her foster son.

Cesco looked up at his namesake, coughed twice, then asked, "Wha's the matter with Donna?"

"She's just tired." Cangrande lifted the boy high above his head and shrieked a single word. "Scala!"

From all around him, above and to the sides, ranged about the hillside like a pack of wild animals, like the inhabitants of some ancient, primal civilization, the soldiers and nobles and common workers echoed his cry to a man. "Sca-la! Sca-la! Sca-la! Sca-la!"

This morning they had cried out for the man. Tonight, they cheered his heir.

Watching from the shelter of the carriage, Giovanna turned away to confer with her grooms.

Back in the tunnel, other men helped a weeping, cursing father pull his sore and breathless son out of the shelter. No one understood the nonsense the youth kept muttering over and over. Someone whispered that the ordeal had driven him mad.

"Giach giach giach," croaked Pietro, laughing through his tears and not caring who saw.

The mood on the hill turned festive. The rain lessened to merely a drizzle, and it was soon possible to build a real fire. There was enough wine about. A few ingenious men got a spit started in the mouth of the tunnel, where they roasted some hares. A game of tag had begun between some of the half-naked men and one of the rescued boys. Cangrande played right along, pretending that he couldn't outpace the child. Then Cesco spied one of Cangrande's hounds and began to weep.

Pietro and Dante were seated by one of the fires. While Katerina talked with the mourning Cesco, Cangrande joined them and listened to Pietro's story.

"The look on Pathino's face gave me a warning," croaked Pietro, sipping water. "I dropped my sword and threw my arms around Cesco. I kept a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't swallow the muck. There was an awful sound. I was sure we were going to die. But then the noise ended. In the darkness I felt around. The wooden slats in the trap fell at an angle, making a shelter. As long as we didn't move, we could survive."

"So long as the air lasted," said Cangrande.

"Yes," said Pietro with a shiver. "I did think of that."

"How did Cesco behave?"

Pietro shook his head. "He was a hero. In the dark, in the wet, everything waiting to fall on us, he let me teach him that song."

"You're a fool," said Dante. "You should have built a fire outside the cave — something to send up a signal."

Suddenly remembering, Pietro opened his mouth, croaked, swallowed, and tried again. "Ferdinando. I met Ferdinando — sent him back for help."

Cangrande frowned. "Petruchio's cousin? Then where is he?" Pietro shrugged and explained entrusting Detto to Ferdinando's care.

Cangrande shook his head. "Mariotto found Detto with your horse. Which means we have another person to look for. I'll see to it." He called Nico over and gave him the order. Then he turned back to Pietro, his face showing real sadness. "I'm sorry about Mercurio."