4
Maybe convinced that there wasn't much sense in following up the few bums that had slipped away, the soldiers and the pontifical police soon decided to double back, plunging Rome back into the silence of the night, and allowing the girls to pass through the centre of the city again with relative easiness.
The Rione Ponte, so called because of its being close to Ponte Sant'Angelo, was perhaps one of the most elegant of Rome, dotted here and there with exquisite palaces, nice squares and tree-lined roads.
However, below the exterior cover of pomp and opulence smoldered the same misery of all the other districts , and a nice, negligent look around was enough to notice how poverty spread pretty much everywhere, from makeshift shacks to hungry beggars.
In those circumstances, Olga told herself, it was almost unbelievable that the Romans had waited that long before rebelling, and her thoughts immediately went to the revolts that came and went constantly in the Polish provinces of the Empire; she asked herself for how long her father would have managed to keep the situation under control with repression and summary executions.
"That's it." said at one point Grazia, who brought her wealthy friend in the small courtyard of a palace near the river.
In a corner, somewhat hidden by the neglected flora, was a small door.
"Salsiccia." said Grazia, striking the door a few times. "It's me. I need to talk to you."
No one answered, nor was there any sign of life from the other side.
With that, wasting no more time, the young Orsini slammed the door open, and like a putrid wind the two girls were met with a stench of stuffiness, mold and burned foodstuff; Grazia looked somewhat accostumed to it, but the Grand Duchess had to cover her mouth with her sleeve to keep her from gagging or worse.
The interior, lit only by the moonlight coming from a small circular window, was a triumph of disorder, and it looked incredible that someone could live in such a pigsty.
Hardly taken aback, and with the assuredness of someone familiar with the place, Grazia made their way through junk, leftovers, trash, and even a few mice, kept under control by two huge cats that were asleep by the lone shelf of that small house.
Laying over a mat made with reeds, with the blissful expression of who, even in misery, finds a way to want to smile, a young girl more or less of their own age was asleep, dressed in rags, the abdomen left bare by a huge shirt clearly too big and huge for her small figure, dark hair and a generous cleavage.
"Here we go again." Grazia grumbled, before waking up that wannabe lumberjack (noise-wise, at least) with the most classic of methods. "Wake up, Salsiccia!"
The half-full bucket that stood in the middle of the room, meant to gather the rain coming from the dripping roof, went in that poor girl's face with the force of a waterfall, making her jump up with wide eyes and, justifiably so, upset.
"Che accade? [What's happening?]» she screamed, before she met the eyes with the responsible of her abrupt wake-up call. «Ah, sei tu. Ma n'somma, è questa a'maniera de sveglià a'gente che'ddorme? [Ah, it's you. Man, is this the way to wake up someone asleep?]»
"The devil himself could come here in your home and you'd be none the wiser. If we can call this a home, since it's more of a pigsty than a place for civilized people."
«Oh, la me scusa, Vostra Santità. [Oh, please forgive me, Your Holiness.]» replied the girl, scratching the back of her head and tapping herself to fully wake up. «A' prossima volta ve faccio trovà er tè ch'i trammezzini ar cetriolo. [Next time I'll have cucumber sandwiches ready for your visit.]»
"Now, enough with chit-chat. I need help for something."
Only then the girl noticed Olga, whom she gave a long look all over, seemingly still groggy, but actually alert and vigilant.
"E sta tua amica? N'artra dei quartieri alti? Se me 'vertivate prima tiravo fora er vestito da a'domenica. [And this friend of yours? Another from the high places? If you told me before, I would have put on my good dress.]"
"It's a long story. All you need to know is that she's called Olga. Olga, she is..."
"Sarsiccia." she prevented her, offering a friendly (and really dirty) hand with a big smile. "Me potete chiamà così. [That's how you can call me.]"
"Sal-siccia!?" repeated Olga, returning the shake with a lot of quickness and a lack of contact. "Is that your name?"
"Er nome che scrivo n'ì biglietti che lascio pe ringrazià ne 'e tasche de quelli che me fanno dono der portafoglio. [The name I write in the thank-you notes I leave in the pockets of those who gift me their wallets.]"
"I teach her how to read and write, and that's how she uses it. Why in blazes did I ever waste my time with you?" protested Grazia. "In any case, enough with that. We need to get out of the city and go north, and we need to be out before the dawn."
"Nu se esce da Roma durante a' notte, principessa. [No way out of Rome during the night, princess.]» replied Salsiccia with a yawn. «Tu meglio de chiunque altro lo dovresti sapé. Dovemo ringrazià tu padre se sta città diventa 'gni notte na priggione. [You should know better than others. We have your father to thank for turning this city into a prison each and every night.]»
"Don't play dumb with me. I know very well that the patriots and the mazziniani turn to you to contraband things in and out of here. Even during the siege you managed to slip some weapons in. So enough wasting my time and tell me how to do it. If it matters to you, the life of Carlotta depends on it."
Hearing the last part, Salsiccia's behavior turned around just like that, dropping the smile and the dazed look and replacing them with a sharp and determined one.
"R'unica via pé uscì da sta cacchio de trappola era e resta er fiume. [The only way to get out of this friggin' trap was and is still the river.]"
"But there are guards on the bridge, and then there's the picket on the walls alongside the river." objected Grazia."
"Not even mentioning that we have no boat." added Olga.
"Pe a barca nun c'è probblema. Na ragazza m'ha detto che ne tiene una proprio sotto er ponte Sant'Angelo, pe le passeggiate cor so amante. [No problem with the boat. A girl told me that she keeps one right under Ponte Sant'Angelo, for her outings with her beau.]"
"Still hitting on girls to have them spill where their husbands keep their money? You'll never change."
"Ce so tante ragazze che diventan loquaci quando je faccio li occhi dorci. Nun ho ancora capito se pecché quando me fascio sembro n'omo come dicono arcuni, o se tutti ch'i discorsi su le passioni recenti de e'femmine per er sesso tra'ddonne stanno a esse molto più che'vvoci. [There are so many girls that start talking when I make eyes at them. I still don't understand if it's because I look like a man, when I put on the bindings, or if all those rumours on the recent passion of women for sex among them are more than mere rumours.]"
What about the guard?" asked Grazia, after a moment of understandable shock.
"Nu te preoccupà. Quello nun sarà n'probblema. Conosco er tipo che sta a fa a guardia de notte. [Don't you worry. He won't be an issue. I know the guy who keeps guard during the night.]»
"And?"
At that, Salsiccia winked, provocatively raising the balcony that hung from her chest.
"E quando ce so io n'giro, quello piuttosto che er fiume preferisce guardar e'me zinne. [And when I'm around, he chooses to look at my tits rather than the river.]"
Stretched out to the banks of the Tiber, the Aurelian Walls were from centuries the first and most important defense of the eastern part of Rome.
Despite their fifteen hundred years of age, they were more than able to do their duty, also thanks to a continuous maintenance and modernization work undertaken after the various sieges laid during the centuries.
Up until recently, there were also submerged chains meant to forbid access through the river, but they had been abandoned to the rust of the muddy bottom, when it was concluded that they did nothing but damage the fishermen's boats.
Ponte Sant'Angelo was the last one before reaching the old gap in the fortifications, and it was likely one of the better watched points in the whole city, especially by night.
Guards patrolled the street, moving from one side of the river to the other, and a small boat kept moving about looking for smugglers, escapees or anybody trying to sneak in or out of Rome.
To top it off, a sentinel kept watch in the tower closest to the water, from which he had a clear line of sight both on the gap and on the area around the bridge.
Luckily, for the most part it was French Zouaves that, apart from not having a clear idea of what they were keeping watch on, only seldom had the urge to do their job properly.
However, the watchman on the tower looked much more alert, and kept his gaze fixed on the Tiber; too bad that it was really difficult to stay alert and do one's job when a cute girl, who would have tempted Saint Peter himself despite the rags she was wearing, came over with a very visible cleavage, a hot gaze and the offer to spend some time together.
Salsiccia looked disheveled, clearly somewhat drunk, a bottle in her hand, and the eyes of somebody of one who looks for nothing but a reason to have some more fun before she came off her bender.
"And what are you doing here?" asked the soldier, as she appeared out of nowhere, almost losing her balance as she faced the last peg of the stairs.
"Me andava de divertirme un po'. [I just felt like having fun.]" she slurred, the words hardly recognizable. "Ho trovato sta roba oggi ar ponte novo e n'ho bbevuta na fraccica. Ma ce n'è rimasto ancora un poco, così ho pensato de venitte a fa na visita. [Found this stuff over there at Ponte Novo and I drank quite a bit. But I've got some left, so I thought about popping here to say hi.]"
"Stop it, I'm working, this is not the time." he tried to protest, but before he could add anything else, Salsiccia was already all over him, enveloping him with a hug with both her arms and legs like a python around a rabbit.
"Eddai, che tte' costa? Me sento così bene che vojo fa quarcosa de cui finirei pe' ppentimme prima de tornà sobria. [C'mon, what's the deal? I feel so good that I want to do something I'd regret if I were sober.]" replied the girl, squishing her breasts against his chest and massaging the right spot. "Nu te voi divertì n'poco? Tranquillo, nun te chiedo mica de pagà. Nun so mica una de Trastevere. [Don't you want to have some fun? Don't worry, I'm not asking you to pay. I'm not from Trastevere.]"
As Salsiccia worked her magic on the watchman, quickly overcoming his feeble resistance, two shadows stood silently among the reeds on the southern side of the river, keeping their eyes on the movements on the bridge.
From the tower anything from the left curve to the edge of the walls could be seen, and a keen eye could clearly see Salsiccia doing her very best, managing to look perfectly available without having to give up even a kiss, however.
"Your friend knows what she is doing." commented Olga. "I know people at St. Petersburg that would have already paid her a cart's worth of gold just to see her naked."
"I choose to believe she doesn't do it in other circumstances." protested Grazia, somewhat embarassed.
All of a sudden, when the watchman was already so gone that he couldn't guess what was happening in the slightest, Salsiccia grabbed one of the oil lamps that lit the gallery, letting it fall over the wall and sending her to fizzle out on a water basin she had prepared before below the tower, to avoid creating inopportune fires.
"That's the signal. Let's go."
With caution, the two girls came out in the open, and in just a few yards they reached a dolphin to which a small excursion boat was tied. Olga, not bothered in the least by the idea of getting her feet wet, climbed aboard first, finding some oars.
"And what's that?" asked the Grand Duchess, seeing Grazia dropping among the reed some kind of paper envelope, rolled and pressed from the sides.
"A gift from Salsiccia. So they'll look the other way." replied the girl, who, as soon as she lit the fuze, ran aboard the boat herself, grabbing some oars as well. "Let's move, we have only thirty seconds to get under the bridge. I hope you know how to use those."
"Don't worry, it won't be a problem."
With that, helped by the clouds that protected them from the moonlight, Grazia and Olga advanced towards the bridge, taking care in making as little noise as possible.
Despite a close call when a boat passed really close to them, but not spotting them thanks to a large trunk, the two girls managed to get under the arch of Ponte Sant'Angelo.
"What now?" asked Olga.
"And now you pray. We'll need it."
Within a few seconds, the fuze burned completely, and then a deafening boom, like the explosion of a large firecracker, was heard for quite the distance, even shaking the windows of a few nearby houses, and drawing the attention of anybody within one mile, starting with the guards on the bridge.
"What's happening - What was that? - It came from there! - Go check it out!"
Everybody's attention was drawn to the left side of the bridge, leaving a free reign on the other.
"All clear." said Grazia, and at once she and Olga began rowing with singular coordination.
Once they had gotten out of the bridge, they looked for a moment at the tower on the opposite side, from which Salsiccia, having got ridden of her beau with a drop of her 'fortified' wine, sent a gesture of good wishes.
The adventure was officially on.
The girls rowed, rowed until their arms felt ready to fall off, not slowing down until the walls were far behind them, becoming more and more distant and confused in the mist that rose from the river, announcing the impending dawn.
Only when they outright disappeared, the two, out of breath, took a moment, letting go of the oars and drawing huge breaths, dipping their swollen hands in the water.
"Do you... think we're far enough?" asked Olga.
"I think so. In any case, my compliments. For a princess, you're not lacking in stamina; where did you learn to row like that?"
"On the Baltic Sea, before Petersburg. Compared to that waves, this river is flat as a board."
"You're full of resources, I have to say. C'mon now, the tavern that guy talked about shouldn't be too far."
In a short while, the darkness of the night began to withdraw before the first lights of the dawn, that, coming from beyond the horizon, colored the sun bright pink; it mixed with the blue and the light of the stars, giving off a chromatic spectrum without equal, from yellow to violet, to the orange-tinged light blue of the clouds.
As said by Carlotta's kidnapper, just as they passed the third curve of the river, when the last houses and villas around Rome had been replaced by isolated farms and small hamlets that descended almost to the river, like many cows at the pasture going to take a drink, they found their mark.
The Vaccaro Scarlatto was a small tavern facing the river in an area where the steep sides of the river were briefly replaced, at least on its left side, by a small earthen shore; with a small wooden pier, on which a pole with a lit lamp stood, it was the perfect hangout for the fishermen and boatmen who wished to get a drink or two in the evening, before going home.
Tying the boat to the pier, Grazia and Olga cautiously made their way to the door, from which no sound was forthcoming.
"Hello there!" shrieked then the young Orsini with no ceremony, pounding on the door. "Open up!"
She had to keep going for a while, but in the end, after a few minutes, the door was slightly opened, and a middle aged man, still in his nightgown and with a lamp in his hand, peeked out with an annoyed expression.
"Which is a decent hour, this one? What in the hell do you brats want?"
"That's up to you. They told us to come here."
"I don't know you. Who in the devil are you?"
"Just two girls from Trastevere." replied the girl, giving him a stern glare.
He shook, clearly taken aback, then he regained his annoyed mug for the unexpected wake up call.
Stepping aside, he opened the door a bit more.
"Come in."
Inside, apart from the dark and the disorder (albeit still decent), there was nobody, as it was logical, and passing through more tables than the room looked like it could gave, the innkeeper brought the girls to the stables, where a few half-breed horses of eccellent quality were held, much more than what a humble countryside tavern could usually do.
"These horses are the best we could find." he said, opening the fence that separated the antechamber from the stable proper. "There in that chest there are travel dresses and even some weapons. Take what you want."
Grazia felt a shudder of surprise; at first she had thought she had ended up clashing against some wannabe or lone wolf, but now she was realizing that the person that had forced them to engage in that adventure was likely a mere piece of a much larger puzzle.
Olga, instead, began checking up the horses they could choose from, with the sharp eye and the questioning expression of somebody who knew what details to check to make the best choice, as if she hadn't had the slightest issue.
When the innkeeper left, both the girls turned towards the chest, that, once opened, revealed a small treasure of dresses of various shapes and make, all meant to be simple and practical for a voyage.
"Who do you think are those people?" asked the Grand Duchess, when, each having gone to an empty box, she began to undress.
"Difficult to say. Nowadays Italy is nothing but an immense sewer; between smugglers that exchange stuff of any kind, to jailbirds that look for a way to disappear, to the anarchists that are followed by half the civilized world, there's plenty from which we can choose."
"I did suspect that we had ended up in something big, but to this point... I just hope that our actions don't cause anything bad or irreparable."
Grazia's thoughts, that had tormented her throughout the night, were pretty much the same; just a few weeks earlier, a young maid named Eleonora that she had known during their exile at Capua had been hanged for conspiracy, just because she had allowed a bomb meant to Ferdinand II to get into the Royal Palace of Caserta, that only by a miracle had gone off without causing damages or killing anything, without having the slightest idea of what she was doing.
"If that guy thinks to take advantage of us just like that, he's making a huge mistake." she growled, shaking from rage. "As soon as Carlotta is safe, I'll find a way to make him pay, you'll see."
Soon after, having finished to dress up, the girls reunited once more, and for a moment Grazia felt like fainting when she saw how the Grand Duchess had styled herself; ignoring her generous breasts, the golden, thick hair and an elegant face that betrayed her status, she could have been mistaken for a man, with snug riding trousers, a waistcoat, a shirt and a two-liveried jacket, ideal to put on the saddle to avoid burning up after the first few miles.
"And where did this horsewoman's dress come from?" giggled the young Orsini, forgetting that she wasn't dressed that differently. "Are you sure you're a Grand Duchess of Russia?"
"I could say the same about you. If your father saw you now, he'd likely have a stroke."
"The same to you."
To top it off, the girls took hold from the chest of some weapons; in Olga's case, just a used French saber, whereas Grazia, other than a curved small sword, took also a couple of single-shot pistols, with relative ammo and powder.
"I was told you have money already, so we didn't waste time to find it." said the innkeeper as he came back, fully clothed now, and offering to the two girls some wrinkled and folded papers. "These are your papers. From now one you're French citizens; they should allow you to go through the border with the Two Sicilies with no issues. Your contact awaits you in the old Serventi oil mill, just outside Civitella; he'll wait until tomorrow at nine, so if you don't make it there in time, the deal is off. Just repeat the same watchword, then he'll recognize you."
"Can we just know what kind of stuff are we going to recover, at least?" Grazia asked.
The innkeeper at that changed expression once more, glaring at her threateningly.
"Kid, there's a golden rule that is always valid if you want to survive in our world, and it's 'don't ask questions on things that aren't your business'. Is that clear?
And now off with the two of you."
Deathly scared, Grazia thought better of insisting, and, saddling the horse she had chosen, went out with him, and found Olga already mounted on a huge black horse, not pleasant to the eye but whose neighing was like the huffing and puffing of a locomotive.
"More of a bull than a horse."
"He's strong and resistant." commented the Grand Duchess, caressing the mane of her new mount. "Ideal for a long ride with few stops."
"Do you know how, at least?"
"Don't underestimate me." winked Olga. "I may be a princess, but I am Russian foremost. We Russians learn to ride even before walking."
"Good to know. We'll have to run like hell to respect the timeframe."
After tightening one last time the saddle, with a single jump Grazia was on top of her own horse as well.
"What road do we take?"
"The Salaria. The Passo della Torrita is the only road to get through the Appennines without having to climb over them."
"But I heard it's used a lot; won't it be dangerous? It doesn't take a genius to guess that what we're doing is very illegal."
"As long as we steer clear of towns and villages, we should be fine."
That said, Grazia gently struck the back of her horse, that immediately galloped down the dirt road, with Olga that followed close by.
Soon, the diffuse light of the dawn was replaced by the merciless heat of the sun of June, that however began to wane as the girls began to rise alongsdie the ancient Roman consular road that, after two thousand years, was still the fastest way to go from the east to the west of Italy, from the Thyrrenian to the Adriatic seas.
All around them, most of the time there wasn't anything but farmland. Countryside and meadows as far as the eye could see, with boundless fields of wheat, corn and other crops.
Olga was speechless, and kept turning her head this and that way with wide eyes, as her horse, likely accostumed to that road, knew it so well that he could go on on its own .
She was used to the barren and wide Russian plains, enormous and flat, and to the inhospitable forests of the Urals. There, instead, was a triumph of smells, sounds and songs the like she had never heard, and in her mind she began to realize why, during millennia, kings and those with power had squabbled over that speck of land jutting over the Mediterranean, with battles and bloodbaths; possessing just a small bit of that peninsula meant claiming a piece of paradise, fertile and lush, of an unmatched beauty.
From time to time they met shepherds that led huge flocks of sheep, herds of goats or cows, travellers of any kind that went in both directions, or farmer girls that went to the fields who, mistaking them for effeminate gentlemen, dressed like that and with their hair up, often willingly offered them the content of their baskets as a small refreshment.
Grazia herself did look somewhat surprised and full of wonder at what was surrounding her; after all, as she herself had said, the outside world had been almost completely closed off to her for the majority of her life, and, excluding rare visits to other family properties, she could say that she had never seen her own country before that moment.
But unlike Olga, the young Orsini's line of thoughts kept derailing towards the knowledge that Carlotta was in the hands of her kidnapper, leading her, every time her wonder tried to take control of her, to make her horse go a bit faster each time, almost as if she wished to refuse letting all those beauties around her distract her from her true purpose.
Olga understood, but said nothing, as she could take a guess at what her new friend could be mulling about.
Very soon, from the lush plains of Lazio they came upon wooded hills that, in a short while, became steep and barren mountains, and by noon the girls were at the west end of the Passo della Torrita.
The meetings with the odd travelers and people living nearby became sparser, perhaps also because at one point Grazia had prudently suggested that they leave the main road in favour of less frequented paths, to avoid the small towns that stood here and there in the valley; it was thanks to that, that Olga was able to see, then, a couple of riders that had shown up a few hours earlier, and who, remaining far enough to convince themselves they hadn't been noticed, kept following the same road.
Too bad that they had to do better than such paltry tricks to pull one over a Grand Duchess, who had been instructed from her early childhood to watch closely anybody who could be a threat.
"You noticed it as well, didn't you?" asked Grazia, proving once more that she wasn't the naive, kind damsel her father thought she was. "Damn it! I thought we had slipped away without having been seen."
"Do you think they are coming from Rome?"
"Right now the Papal States are sealed. It's unlikely that they came from outside."
"What do you think?" the Grand Duchess winked. "Do we show them how fast we can be?"
At the next curve, the girls went from a steady walk to a true gallop, so when the two followers came around as well they found their prey pretty far away already, and were forced to hurry up as well and thus forcing their hands.
In a short while, the path came into a small grove under a mountain, and the two riders had barely the time to see the girls disappear between the branches before they outright disappeared. Undeterred, they still tried to follow by ear, but in a few hundred yards even their noises died out.
Stopping, the two men, surely soldiers from how they rode, tried to look around, but their preys had vanished; the grove was completely quiet, with only the sounds of nature (the branches storming, the sudden movements of a small animal, and the regular roar of water of a nearby creek) breaking it.
Following their tracks was a no go; the terrain, tested by weeks of no rain whatsoever, was so dry and harsh that not even the most experienced guide could have managed anything.
Perhaps out of frustration of having lost two little girls, perhaps too busy watching the path to make an effort, neither thought of looking above them; if they had, they could have seen their targets, perched upon a branch of the tree protruding over the road, on which they had jumped on the fly as quickly as gymnasts, before hiding under the leaves.
"Scheisse!" said one of them. "Wir haben sie verloren!"
That phrase, simple as it was, caused to both Olga and her new friend a shock, that both struggled to keep under control.
"Lass uns zurückkommen!" added his companion. "Vielleicht haben sie einen anderen weg eingeschlagen!"
With that, the two men doubled back, riding fast towards where they had come from, but Grazia and Olga awaited in complete silence until they couldn't hear their horses' hooves anymore, before they climbed down.
"Did you hear that, too?" asked the Grand Duchess.
"Yep." replied Grazia, who had recognized not just those men's language, but their accent as well. "They weren't Frenchmen, nor Swiss. They were..."
"Austrians."
"But it's absurd. The relationship between Pius IX and Francis Joseph are at an all-time low. An Austrian shouldn't even be peeking inside our borders, let alone people like them."
Luckily the horses hadn't made it too far after their riders had bailed, and the girls managed to find them a little further, drinking up from a less turbulent section of the creek running amid the trees.
However, unlike the horse chosen by the Grand Duchess, the one picked by Grazia wasn't made to cover such long distances all in one go and at that speed, and after hours of uninterrupted march, plus that last run, that poor beast looked like having enough for now.
"Maybe it's time to stop and give the horses a breather."
"Are you joking? Those guys are out looking for us, and time is short."
"Don't worry about that." shot back Olga, raising her right hand that, unlike her left one, was no longer covered with a leather glove. "I let it fall some distance in the back, near the crossroads that leads towards the village; they'll find that, and before they realize they are looking the wrong way, we'll have had plenty of time to get some rest and get moving again."
"They might not be alone! Besides, each second we lose is a net loss, and Carlotta is still in the clutches of that bastard!"
A yawn, coming in the worst possible moment, betrayed what Grazia was trying to hide behind a facade, but all that was needed was look into her eyes, shiny and red, to understand that the horse wasn't the only one around here at his limits.
"Think about it, Grazia. It's been thirty-six hours since we last slept, and we both need some rest. We won't be of any help to Carlotta if we fainted from exhaustion on the road. Besides, if your horse gives out, how will we get to Civitella?"
Grazia let go of her objections almost immediately, also because the thought of even a small respite had led her body to let go of everything it was carrying since hours, between exhaustion, pain in the bones and muscles, and also some hunger.
Meekly, like a child put in a corner, she crawled into the nook of a big tree, and collapsed into a deep sleep even before Olga could bide her a good rest.