It was stopped, of course, by the chunk of stone the ruffian had shoved in front of it. The block was large, and I was running short of energy, but I threw myself at the door once again.
The light of the oil lamps behind us flared in one dying gasp, and then went out, both of them together, enclosing us in darkness. The stone slid agonizingly back inch by inch, until there was enough of an opening to admit my body—that is, if I went sideways, didn’t breathe, and left many of the threads of my coat and trousers behind.
The contessa, a far slimmer person than I, slipped through when I reached for her without even rending her mantle.
We were free. I took her hand to lead her on, when two of the ruffians stepped out in front of us.
Chapter25
The men were silhouetted in light that leaked from somewhere above, more holes in the ancient building. It was dawn, the night drawing to an end.
I was exhausted, sore, downcast, and very thirsty, but I let my famous temper overcome me at the sight of them. I roared, rushing at the men, no weapon handy but my own fists.
The men hesitated in sheer surprise, hardly expecting me to charge them. The yell from my throat was the same as when I’d ridden at the French lines, our screams meant to put fear into those hardened soldiers.
The assailants halted only a second or two, then came at me, ready to cut me down with wicked-looking knives. I dove under one’s reach, the aching shoulder I’d used to break down the door slamming into his rather softer body.
My knee was in agony as I pummeled him, but I knew that if I backed away, he’d stick his knife into me. I jabbed my hand at his throat, every desperate fighting method I’d learned rising without my mind consciously directing it. The second man hovered, trying to get in a blow, but I continued to swing around with the man I fought to confound the second man’s aim.
The contessa, not being a fool, used the opportunity to scurry away from the cell. I hoped she’d not encounter another tough before she discovered the way out and found help.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the contessa stop. She lifted a rock from the floor of the corridor, staggering under its weight, and brought it down on the neck of the second assailant.
He did not obligingly drop to the floor, but he howled and stumbled, leaving me only one man to fight. I could not bellow at the contessa to run as she lingered, as though trying to get in another blow, because I had no breath, and my throat was parched.
The second man, rubbing the back of his head, snarled an invective and started for the contessa, knife firmly in hand.
I threw the man I wrestled into him. I shoved the contessa away from the fray, but that was all I managed before both men closed on me, fists and boots landing blows. The blade came for my face.
The cry of a banshee—those wailing spirits that foretell a death—sailed down the corridor. A whirlwind followed, but it was truly a man, one who’d fought like a demon in the night near the ruins of Herculaneum, the only person I’d ever seen able to best the rock of Brewster.
The two men swung to face this new menace, but he gave them no chance to regroup. Whatever rage existed in Mr. Cockburn, from the taunts of boys when he’d been a youth to the loss of his beloved brother, poured from him now.
He spun and kicked, whirling a dagger in patterns that made me dizzy. I attempted to assist him by landing a roundhouse blow on one of my opponents, but then I had to back away and let him work.
Cockburn would have put the champion pugilists Jackson and Mendoza to shame. He quickly had both men groaning on the ground and holding various limbs, one weeping softly. Cockburn rapidly stripped them of their weapons, tucking them into various parts of his clothing.
“Thank you,” I said to him, my voice a rasp. “How did you know we were down here?”
Cockburn shook his head, pointing to his ear and waving at the air around us. I understood that he could not read my lips well in the semi-dark. I experienced a moment of chagrin for forgetting he was deaf but hid it by taking the contessa’s hand.
She was shaking all over, the rock she’d held now falling from her grasp and rattling on the ground. I gently tugged her to follow me, but I’d carry her if need be.
Cockburn was none the worse the wear after the fight, and he led us through the vaulted corridor. He took us unerringly to a set of steep stairs that the contessa could never climb—I had doubts about my ability as well. I lifted her slight body into my arms, ignoring her protests, and proceeded to carry her upward. My leg hurt like the devil, and I had to go slowly, but I gained the top and set her gently on her feet.
“My apologies for the indignity, madame,” I told her as she shook out her gown and shot me a glare. “But we must make haste.”
Cockburn, unwinded, took us once again through the maze of passageways, up another ramp past the newer brick walls, and finally out into the damp morning.
Brewster ran toward us, and behind him came Grenville. A carriage had halted beyond them, its gleaming coach lights cutting through the rain.
The congenial Grenville came for the contessa, assisting her to the carriage as though he’d arrived to convey her to a supper ball. I, the ragged soldier, limped heavily to it, with Brewster behind me to shove me in. I saw Cockburn watching anxiously, before he vanished behind the door Brewster slammed.
My ears buzzed as I landed on my seat, darkness dancing before my eyes. I was gone to a dreamlike place, scarcely noticing when the carriage jerked forward into the Roman dawn.
When I returned to myself,I was reclining in a comfortable chair next to a warm porcelain stove, rugs on my legs and a blanket around my shoulders. My wife reposed on a sofa near me, and the contessa, as upright as ever, sat next to her, her thin hand between Donata’s softer ones. We were alone in the room, no servants hovering.
I vaguely remembered arriving at Trevisan’s house, Brewster hauling me from the carriage like a sack of grain and trundling me inside. Various maids and footmen peered uncertainly at me, and at one point I thought I saw Proietti’s daughter, but she dissolved into mist. I had no idea how long I’d been here, but the sun was well up, I assumed on the same day.
