Gian recovered from his recoil, standing beyond the other man's reach, his hand on his sword.
"He's mad," Cara said desperately. "My mistress says that he's mad. She's to marry you. Don't kill him."
Gian's attention came to her, and she regretted speaking. She thought of the stairs so close behind her, of Guy with the horses, waiting for her, and new tears blurred her eyes.
"Why, Allegreto, what a kind heart your maiden has. Did I say she was not worthy of you? She is too good for you."
His son said nothing. He stayed on his knees, his gaze on the stone pavement. Gian walked around the well and stood before him.
"There, I'll not run the poor hound through, do you see, Donna Cara? I can't resist a lady's pleading. Truly—truly, you're far too good for my black-hearted son."
Allegreto was trembling, breathing as if he would weep and could not.
"Look at him. So frightened. Shall I forgive him, Donna Cara? His life is in your hands."
"Oh, yes! Forgive him!"
"Come, rise, my sweet son." Gian touched his shoulder. Allegreto jerked as if he'd been pricked. He rose to his feet, but there was no reprieve or relief in his face. He seemed to have gone beyond any thought at all, closing his eyes when Gian took him by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to each cheek.
Gian stepped back, shoving his son hard away. Cara screamed, watching in disbelief as Allegreto reached and failed and fell, his arms outstretched toward his father. He disappeared at the edge. A moment later the water broke in immense echoes.
She ran forward without thinking, looking over the edge. His head came up, his shoulders, the water surface shattered into silver and jet. She grabbed for the bucket and rope, but Gian jerked her back. He crushed both her wrists together in his hand.
Allegreto held his head out of the black water, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked up at them. Water splashed softly as he kept himself afloat.
Gian walked to the edge, still holding Cara. She struggled, terrified that he would throw her in, too, but he did not. He only stood, looking straight down the wall into the water. Allegreto swam toward them. His upturned face looked deathly white against the dark liquid. He put his hand on the wall, searching it.
Gian shook his head. He pulled Cara with him, walking around a quarter of the well, still staring down the edge. Allegreto followed, as if a magnet drew him. His hands slid on the well-dressed stone, finding no hold.
She realized that Gian was making certain he could not. Slowly he circled the whole well. When he came to the water bucket and rope, he picked up the bucket and set it beyond reach of the knight, who watched them from his bolted chains.
No one spoke. Cara thought it must be a nightmare, but for the pain as she pulled and twisted to free her hands. When Gian forced her to the stairs and up, she tried to look over her shoulder. Allegreto seemed a ghost in the huge well, his wet face already confused with the shining black water in her eyes. His father closed the door, and the one beyond it, driving down the bars.
The bright morning outside burst upon her. It seemed for a moment that it could not be summer, and day, but should still be that dim cold twilight they had left behind. The numb burn in her hands was like the speechless horror in her brain. It was day; there were birds and grass and the river sparkling.
Down among the reeds Gian stopped, loosing her hands. "Now, Donna Cara," he said reasonably, "for the sake of your sister, and your Englishman, you'll forget this morning, and this place forever."
In the summer warmth it already seemed a dream, and his calm voice seemed part of it. She was stricken with dumbness, like a sleeper unable to speak.
"You've been a brave child, and done well for your sister. We'll have her safe from the Riata for you. And you've helped your husband, too." He led her up onto the wharf. "I'll make him a greater man than he dreamed of being."
The boat waited, tied. Cara stood on the stone quay, her toes over the edge. Gian let go of her and pulled the boat closer.
She heard her name. Caraaah—faint and hoarse and distant, a howl of fear and pleading.
Gian heard it, too. He straightened, looking at her with a faint concern, as if he worried for her. "Come. We all must make our choices, Donna Cara."
She jerked away from him. He grabbed, catching the liripipe on her sleeve as she flung herself toward the path. She felt the fabric part, tearing loose, freeing her with an unexpectedness that made her stumble. He shouted; there was a great splash behind her, and suddenly she had a chance. She scrambled, not looking back, not thinking, only running.
Oh hurry oh hurry oh hurry, the sound of her own breath obscured anything else. She didn't know how long it took him to get onto the wharf, how close he came behind. She hiked her skirt and slipped and ran hurry hurry her mind on nothing but the bucket, the door—could she bar it behind her? Allegreto must have the key to the knight's fetters—if he would not fight his father, the mad knight surely would.
Ruck strained against his steel bonds with impatience as he watched the weeping maid fumble the bucket.
"Give it to me!" he snapped. "Give me the rope! God's blood, you can't raise him yourself!"
She ran to him, panting. Her wit appeared to have completely deserted her. But for escaping Navona and barring the door against him, Ruck blessed her with every blessing that he knew. He tossed the bucket into the well and braced the rope across his steel anchor, taking a loop around his arm fetter.
"Now!" he exclaimed.
The girl was down on her knees, crying and urging Allegreto in Italian. The rope strained, slipping a little as it took the youth's weight. Ruck heard water surge and splash.
He held firm with his arm against the hard jerks of Allegreto's climb.
The boy's black head appeared. He grasped the rope above the edge and heaved himself up. With a grimace he thrust onto the stone on his hands and knees, water spilling off his dragging clothes.
"Where is he?" Frenzy edged Allegreto's words as he looked toward the door. "Where is he?"
"He fell in the river! I ran, but he'll be here any moment!"
Allegreto stood with his eyes on the door. "Mary, oh, Mary—save me."
"The key!" Ruck slammed his arm against the chains. "Do you have it?"
The youth was so gone in terror that he stared at Ruck without comprehension for an instant before he looked down and fumbled the key from his soaked wallet. His hands, dripping and white, were shaking hard enough that he couldn't get the iron in the lock.
"Keep your head, whelp," Ruck said, gripping the boy's arm.
Allegreto nodded wordlessly. He stabbed at the lock twice, and at last got it free. Ruck pulled the key from his fingers and opened the leg fetters himself.
"Give me your sword." Ruck reached to Allegreto's belt and swept the light weapon from its sheath. He made for the door, threw off the bar, and flung it open without caring what was behind it. Released from seven nights and a hellish death chained in this pit, he was willing to slay anyone to get out of it, and more than pleased to make Gian Navona the first.
All three of them saw it at once, in the reeds at the edge of the current. Donna Cara made a garbled sound.
"I heard him behind me." Her voice was shaking. "I didn't stop."
Allegreto said nothing. He stood for an instant, and then threw down his dagger, plunging into reeds and water up to his waist. He caught the white cape and pulled frantically.
It was too late. Ruck crossed himself and helped haul the body up onto the shore. The pale velvet dragged in the grass, heavy with golden coins and besants. Allegreto dropped to his knees. He clutched his father's hand and squeezed it convulsively between both of his.