Chapter 36
Capitolo Trentasei
Ravenna pumped her legs, racing toward the immense dome that dominated the Florentine skyline.
She navigated the tight corners, hopped over muddy piles, skirted around flower carts and street vendors, her long hair flowing behind her, a copper river glinting in the sunlight.
The streets were mercifully empty; everyone was likely attending Holy Mass.
Her heart careened against her ribs, sweat dampened her brow, her breath escaped her in forceful gusts.
Madonna santa, let her make it in time.
The piazza looked exactly as it had the day before, bursting with bright colors and spring flowers.
The cathedral loomed in front of her, plain and austere, the front doors wide open.
She hardly noticed. Ravenna burst into the nave, teeming with people sitting in the pews and lining the back walls.
Choral music whirled around her, and the scent of incense filled her nose.
The vibrant colors of the stained-glass windows cast the kneeling congregation in a riot of colors, amplified by the many candles illuminating the sanctuary.
The priest stood directly ahead of her at the altar, performing the liturgical rites.
Several people in the back rows turned at her entrance: merchants, nobles, commoners, artisans, and foreign dignitaries. It didn’t matter who they were, each held obvious looks of surprise at the state of her.
Bloodied gown, hair unbound, and wild, bruised face.
Ravenna veered to the right side, darting past the immense pillars that flanked the rows of pews.
She reached the front of the church and scanned the crowd, frantically searching for a glimpse of her brother.
Instead, her eyes locked across the wide center aisle with the one person she never expected to see again.
Saturnino stared back at her, riveted, his lips parting in shock. A tide of emotion threatened to sweep her away. Her body felt feverish, dizzy at the sight of him. He looked wonderful. Familiar. Beautiful in his midnight satin doublet with slashed sleeves, sharp black hair tucked behind his ears.
Like everyone else, he was now kneeling on the tuffet, his arms loosely draped over the rail in front of him.
His family flanked him on either side; they hadn’t noticed her yet.
The Medici were also tucked in the same pew—Lorenzo and his lady, and his handsome brother Giuliano who had danced with the most beautiful woman at the banquet.
Ravenna’s attention snapped back to Saturnino.
His dark green eyes took in her appearance: the bruised temple, the swollen lip—and a lethal fury blazed across his face.
Understanding crept across his features, and without words, they had a silent conversation that spanned the width of the cathedral.
You promised, he accused her.
I couldn’t leave my brother, she pleaded.
He made to stand, but Ravenna shook her head, frantic.
Saturnino paused, waiting for her to tell him what she needed.
But Ravenna didn’t know.
For all she knew, her brother wasn’t there at all, and she had run all that way for nothing.
She tugged at the ends of her hair in frustration.
But as the priest raised the consecrated host high above his head, three hooded figures dashed forward, daggers in hand, heading straight for the Medici brothers.
Her brother threw back his hood, raising his arm, the blade glinting silver in the candlelight.
Ravenna let out a bloodcurdling scream—
The sound rose high, filling every inch of the sanctuary, reaching the vaulted ceilings. The choir abruptly broke off their serene chanting. People jumped to their feet, shouting, the sounds blending in with her own anguished screaming.
It tore out of her. An endless river of terror, all-consuming.
Antonio swiped at Lorenzo’s neck. The politician clutched at his throat, blood seeping through his fingers.
With his free hand, he yanked out a slim sword, thrust it toward Ravenna’s brother.
Antonio leaped back, but several people wrapped their arms around him: waist, arms, throat.
More people circled him, pulling at his legs, his fingers.
Someone pried his dagger out of his hands, stabbing him in the gut with it.
Her brother threw his head back and let out a primal groan.
They were tearing him apart.
Ravenna shoved her way through the jostling crowd, united in pandemonium and fury. Only ten feet separated her from her brother. She screamed his name, and over the heads and shoulders between them, he turned toward her. Someone had gouged his eye out. He was missing several teeth.
The guttural cry that came out of him nearly broke her.
They carried him high over their heads, out the front door.
From the corner of her eye she caught Signor Luni crowding Lorenzo de’ Medici, acting as a shield against the roiling crowd.
Ravenna pushed at the people standing in her way, but she was shoved off her feet.
She landed hard on her hands and knees. Tears streaming down her face, she tasted salt in her mouth.
Someone stepped on her hand and she winced as she attempted to crawl away from the mob.
Giuliano de’ Medici crashed down next to her.
He stared at Ravenna, eyes open in terror.
The tall priest hovered over him and stabbed Giuliano in the chest. He cried out, arms waving to block the next blow, but his attacker’s blade came down again. And again. And again. Ravenna lost count of how many times.
Blood splattered onto the mosaic marble floor, onto her hair, her cheeks. She flung herself away, jumping to her feet. The crowd swelled around her, people taking up the call to defend Lorenzo. They were yelling his name, an offering at the altar for his life to be spared.
He was a saint among sinners.
Ravenna stumbled against one of the massive pillars as a rough hand gripped her hair, tilting her head back.
“This one!” the man screamed in her ear. “Conspirator!”
She yelled out and shoved at the man with her elbow.
His grip loosened and she spun, aiming a kick at his groin.
He bent at the hip, howling. Ravenna darted away from him, slipping on the marble floor, slick with blood.
Her magic awoke within her, demanding to be let out.
She panicked, resisting its harsh demand.
There were people everywhere—if they saw her magic, would it confirm her treachery? Would they burn her at the stake?
Please, please, stay back, Ravenna prayed.
Her magic hissed in reply, but stayed put.
But now she was surrounded, people raising their arms to block her from leaving. She was trapped. Dimly, she heard more people discovering conspirators. Friends and neighbors turned on one another, damning them to hell. Steel glinted in the candlelight as several fights erupted around her.
The men advanced on her, too many to count. They tore at her cloak, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled in opposite directions. She was going to die, split open by a nightmare while the statue of the Virgin Mary gazed down at her.
“Ravenna!”
The enraged bellow cut through the noise swirling around her.
She knew that voice; she would recognize it across oceans, across time itself.
Her heart blazed, thumping wildly against her ribs.
Her head whipped in Saturnino’s direction as he leaped over a church pew, clearing it by several feet.
He ruthlessly shoved whoever was in his path out of the way, his lips shaping her name.
Her attackers crowded around her; one of them spat in her face.
Saturnino came for her in a blur of movement, his knives flashing.
He was a god incarnate, unleashing an unholy terror to save her.
Guards swamped him, but he was merciless, violent.
He used his fists, he used his teeth, and he kicked, striking jaws and breaking fingers.
Bodies fell around him, throats slashed.
Saturnino spun toward her, snaked his arm around her waist.
“There’s a side door— Fuck!” Saturnino snarled.
He pushed Ravenna behind him as Marco rushed forward, sword drawn.
It took mere seconds for Saturnino to withdraw his own as people around them ran for cover, screaming for loved ones.
A metallic crash rang in Ravenna’s ears as their weapons met.
Saturnino parried his brother’s blows, keeping her behind him, shielding her from Marco’s enraged attack.
“Behind the pillar,” Saturnino said. She ducked behind it, Saturnino following her as Marco continued his offense. As he pushed them back Ravenna took hold of a brass candle holder and swung it at his head; Marco barely dodged out of the way in time.
“For fuck’s sake, Ravenna,” Saturnino snapped. “I don’t need your help.”
Saturnino took hold of her hand and led her behind an overturned pew. He shoved her down to her knees.
“Stay down, tesoro,” he hissed.
Marco leaped forward, and their swords locked together. Saturnino gritted his teeth, fine lines fanning outward from his clenched eyes. He pushed forward, driving his brother backward.
“Enough, Marco!” Saturnino roared. “You fool! She isn’t a conspirator!”
A hazy blue bloomed across Marco’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “She dies anyway.”
Ravenna crouched on a tuffet, the echoing sounds of clashing metal reverberating around her. Sweat dripped down her spine as she searched for anything that might help Saturnino. She gripped a thick prayer book and threw it at Marco. It bounced off his arm and he snarled at her, teeth gleaming.
Saturnino flung himself forward while his brother was distracted, forcing Marco back into a narrow space between two rows of pews.
Saturnino spun his sword, a neat move that left the pommel of his weapon facing outward.
He lunged and stuck Marco against his temple.
His brother slumped sideways over the pew railing, unconscious.
Then Saturnino whirled, sprinting toward Ravenna and scooping her up into his arms. “We have to go.”
She struggled against him. “My brother—”
“He’s gone, Ravenna,” Saturnino said, lips moving against her forehead.
She pushed at him with all her strength and he released her, startled. She spun away from him, racing down the aisle toward the entrance of the church. He bellowed her name; his footsteps thundered behind her.
In seconds, she reached the doors but stopped at the sight before her.
The heavy doors stood open, and blood smeared the marble steps leading down to the piazza.
The square was a riot of noise and movement, filled with screams and shouts, people fleeing in every direction.
People tripped over dead bodies, the cobblestones wet with blood.
Men were locked in combat, using whatever they could reach—swords, daggers, their hands.
Wooden stalls lay overturned with fruit and goods scattered on the ground.
Ravenna gasped, pressing both her palms against her mouth.
In the distance, Medici guards dragged men toward makeshift gallows, hastily constructed by an enraged mob hell-bent on finding conspirators. A man was hoisted up by his neck, his feet kicking desperately as the crowd surrounding him cheered. He was barely older than her brother.
Fear and nausea curdled deep in Ravenna’s belly.
No trials, no mercy, no quarter given to anyone suspected of involvement with the murder plot against the Medici. Her brother was gone. She felt it in her bones. Above her the cathedral bell tolled, a haunting melody, drowning out the cries for help, the cries for blood.
Saturnino swept Ravenna up against him, his arm banding around her waist. His lips pressed against her ear, low and urgent. “Ravenna, if I have to drag you—”
She spun in the circle of his arms, wrapping herself around him, holding tight to something solid against the chaos. “Take me away.”