The Reckoning - 3 by Sharon Kay Penman Read Free Book Online Page A

his heart.
But when he did, he'd discovered that he had to forgive Bran, if only because
Bran could not forgive himself.
And now, Italy. A brilliant battle commander, Guy had won a King's favor, won a future full of promise. Whilst Bran, Juliana acknowledged, had naught but a past, one full of pain. And it seemed to her that, even with the best will in the world, Bran and Guy were yoked together too tightly, shackled by too many memories, too many regrets.
Bran leaned over, deposited her wine cup in the floor rushes. As he did, Juliana trailed her fingers along his chest, hovering over the new scar that zigzagged across his ribs. So much she'd wanted to do for him, to keep him safe from harm, to heal his wounds, to ease his pain, to stop his drinking.
And she'd been able to do none of it. The only comfort she could offer was carnal, the only kind he seemed to want.
"Make love to me, Bran," she whispered. "Make love to me now."
SIENA, TUSCANY
March 1271
OUCH did not see how they could get to Italy in time to rendezvous with Bran's brother. While couriers had been known to travel from London to Rome in just twenty-five days, sucn couriers often covered close to fifty miles a day, and most travelers
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eed less than thirty. Hugh soon discovered, though, that Bran's m . j^ be as steely as that of his formidable father. He rode fast and de hard, and the knights of his household were pressed to keep
Bv the time they reached the Mount Cenis Pass, they were avpace. vy erasing forty miles a day.
A winter passage across the Alps was every traveler's nightmare. B an and his companions were more fortunate than many, for they were pared the most lethal perils of alpine crossings: blizzards and avalanches. Even so, their journey was a daunting one. A local guide was killed when he ventured ahead to mark their trail with wooden stakes. It was so bitter cold that the men's beards congealed with ice and Bran's wineskin froze solid. At one point, the slope was so glazed that they were forced to bind their horses' legs and lower them down on ropes. When they finally made their way to safety, Hugh was vowing that he'd live out the remainder of his days in Italy ere he'd face Mount
Cenis again.
Bran had laughed, mercifully forbearing to remind the boy that ahead of them still lay the mountains of the Italian Apennines. They crossed at La Cisa, took the ancient Via Francigena that led toward Rome, and rode into the city of Florence on March 2nd, just twenty-six days since departing Montargis.
There they were greeted by Guy de Montfort and the powerful Tuscan lord who was his wife's father, Ildebrandino d'Aldobrandini, Count of Sovana and
Pitigliano, known to all as "il Rosso" for the auburn color of his hair. Three days later they took the road south, reaching the city walls of Siena by midday on Saturday, the
7th of March. It was a day to banish their bone-chilling memories of those alpine glaciers, to evoke forgotten echoes of spring, a sundrenched noon under a vivid sapphire skyHugh's fifteenth birthday.
ALTHOUGH Ildebrandino had a house in Siena, they accepted the hospitality of the Tolomei, an influential local family in uneasy alliance with the Count.
Once they were settled in the Tolomei palazzo, their host suggested that they might enjoy watching a game of elmora, and in consequence, Hugh soon found himself riding through the steep, twisting streets that led to the Campo, listening to the applause of townspeople as they recognized il Rosso and his dashing son-in-law, the Vicar °' Tuscany.
Hugh suspected that the welcome was politic, for he knew by now these Tuscan city-states were profoundly suspicious of powerful, Predatory neighbors like the Count. And Guy de Montfort was the Vicar, odesta, of Siena's great rival, Florence. But even if they were mo-
^ated more by expediency than heartfelt enthusiasm, the cheers still
°ed buoyantly on the mild, sunlit air, and Guy acknowledged the
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salutations with grace, with the polished poise of a