incident, I knew, but rather from the most recent event he had just witnessed: my removing the stiletto from my victim’s throat, then casually wiping the blood on my gown.
It had been such an easy thing for me, to kill.
I shared a long look with my brother-what a ghastly sight I must have been, head and cheeks and breast soaked crimson-then glanced back down at the failed assassin, who stared up blindly at the ceiling. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, even though I knew he could not hear me-but Ferrante had been right; it did help when the eyes were open. ‘I had to protect the King.’
I reached out then, and placed my palm gently upon his cheek, where my stiletto had left its mark. His skin was soft still, and very warm.
Alfonso and the King armed themselves with swords from Ferrandino’s chambers, then escorted me back to my rooms, though I had proven my ability to protect myself.
When Donna Esmeralda saw me-drenched from head to skirt with thickening blood-she screamed, and would have fallen had Alfonso not caught her. Once she learned I had not been harmed, she recovered remarkably. Jofre was there, too, having come searching for me, and he cried out my name with such fear and alarm I was quite gratified. Even after he learned I was well, he clasped my hand-undeterred by its sticky coating-and would not leave my side until the King gave the order.
Once the men had left-promising to return with instructions-Donna Esmeralda brought a basin of water and set to work bathing me.
As she dipped a cloth in the water, rosy and clouded from my victim’s blood, she whispered, ‘You are so brave, Madonna! His Majesty should give you a medal. What was it like, to kill a man?’
‘It was…’ I paused, searching for the right words to describe my feelings. ‘Necessary. Just something you do because it is necessary.’ In truth, it had been remarkably simple. I began to tremble, not because I had taken a man’s life, but because I had done so with ease.
‘Here, here.’ Donna Esmeralda draped a shawl around my naked shoulders; I had thrown the damp gown on the floor, leaving it for an Angevin traitor or a Frenchman to find later and puzzle over. ‘I know you are bold, but it has still been a great shock.’
I had no patience for coddling, however. I dressed again quickly, then rinsed my blade in the bloodied water, wiped it carefully, and resheathed it beneath my clean bodice. Only then did I help Esmeralda gather up our most vital belongings in a trunk. The costliest jewels I hid on my person, wrapping them tightly against my hips, beneath my skirts. Many beautiful things-fine fur coverlets, carpets, silk tapestries and brocade hangings, as well as heavy candelabra of silver and gold, paintings by old masters-had to be left behind for our enemies.
After that, there was nothing more to be done than wait, and calm ourselves each time the cannons roared.
Shortly before noonday, Jofre appeared with servants to carry our trunk, and a pair of armed guards. Out of a habit acquired before appearing in public, I smoothed my hair-only to discover it was stiff from remnants of dried blood.
Once again, I moved swiftly through the corridors of the Castel Nuovo: this time I did not allow myself the luxury of studying the walls and furnishings, of indulging in grief over what I was leaving behind. I kept my mind divorced from my emotions, with the former ascendant. We may have been in the midst of defeat-but I believed that Ferrandino was right, that it was only temporary. I did my best to bear myself with dignity and assurance, for the House of Aragon had never needed it more. Jofre, to his credit, walked beside me, his manner grave and intense, but revealing no fear.
At last, our little party arrived at the double doors leading to the enclosed courtyard, and paused while the guards hurried forward to open them.
Beside me, Donna Esmeralda broke into loud sobs.
I chided her at once. ‘Save them for when we are alone,’ I commanded. ‘Walk with pride. We are not vanquished; we will return. And Naples will welcome us when we come.’
She obeyed, wiping her eyes upon her ample sleeve.
The doors opened onto a scene of the most utter disarray. The courtyard was filled beyond its capacity with people: distant relatives and noble acquaintances who had managed to find sanctuary inside the castle walls when the fighting had first begun, and frantic servants and employees who had deserted their posts and now realized they were about to be left behind at the mercy of the rebels. These two groups had been herded together and were now guarded at sabre-point by a contingent of our soldiers, in order to keep them away from the carriages prepared for our escape.
There were other soldiers as well-some recently expired, dragged off into corners, and some wounded, moaning with pain. Those who were whole surrounded the four enclosed carriages of the sort used for local trips around the city; these vehicles were encircled first by men on horseback, two abreast, then by foot soldiers. Our men were dressed for battle, in Spanish helmets with blue and gold plumes, and engraved plate armour covering their chests and backs.
Every bit of greenery had been trampled, including the first flowers of spring. Even the once-fragrant air was now filled with smoke from burning palazzos and the acrid, sulphurous stench of artillery. The sound of human voices, lifted in a chorus of desperation and terror, drowned out all else save the cannons.
As the guards genuflected, I stepped with the utmost regal bearing into the madness.
‘Make way!’ they cried out. ‘Make way for the Prince and Princess of Squillace!’
A murmur traversed the crowd. Nearby soldiers turned and, with a sincerity and an admiration I did not understand, bowed low. ‘Make way for Princess Sancha!’
So large was the gathering and so confined our surroundings that men stood pressed shoulder against shoulder; yet never was I jostled, never once was my personage touched.
A captain emerged from the assembly. ‘Your Highnesses,’ he said to me and my husband. ‘His Majesty has requested that you accompany him.’
The captain himself led us past two of the carriages. Uncle Federico was pushing his brother into the first, with the same ferocity he had used to wield the scimitar earlier that morning. The weapon was in a scabbard at his hip now; every man, royal or not, bore arms.
The foot soldiers surrounding the King’s carriage parted to permit us passage, and the horsemen flanking it reined their steeds back so that we could enter. As one of the guards proffered his arm so that I might climb up into the carriage, he said, as I touched him lightly: ‘It is an honour, Your Highness. You are Naples’ greatest heroine.’
Inside, I found Alfonso, Giovanna, and Ferrandino awaiting us. As dreadful as the situation certainly must have been for him, the young King managed a faint smile; he had overheard the guard’s statement. ‘Come, sit beside me, Sancha. I will feel safer. As you have no doubt realized, you have earned quite a reputation for your bravery today.’
In the face of such a statement, my composure wavered: I had not thought of my deed as an act of courage, but rather a disturbing symptom of my heritage. I lowered my eyes and stammered, as Jofre and Esmeralda entered the carriage behind me, ‘It was mere accident that I was the only one with a weapon, Majesty. Had my brother been armed, he would have been first to defend you; and had you been armed yourself, we would have had no fear, given your skill as a swordsman.’ I took my seat beside the King, who was flanked on his other side by Giovanna. Across from her sat Alfonso, then Jofre, with Esmeralda last, opposite me.
‘Accident or not, because of you, we are here,’ Ferrandino countered, ‘and we are grateful. You are my lucky talisman now, Sancha.’
He fell silent as the carriage lurched; with the movement came the shouts of men, as lookouts from the towers above us relayed the circumstances outside the castle gates to the soldiers below. Apparently, our flight from the Castel Nuovo had been anticipated by enemy forces, for a large group of foot soldiers hurried to reinforce those already protecting our front.
Several guards ran to the gates and unbolted them; they swung open onto chaos.
Outside, our men fought traitors within their own ranks, as well as commoners and nobles. Once the gates opened, our reinforcements rushed into the fray with fearsome roars-and were soon engaged in swordplay so rapid my eyes could scarcely follow it.
