Chapter VII: The Landslide

Alisa looked down from Malatesta Castle's battlements to the landscape around. It was a chilly mid November day, and as it often happened at this time of the year, there was fog at the entrance of the valley of the Astico River, which gave the name to clouds billowed in the cold pale blue sky, driven east by high-altitude winds. Finally, rain had stopped, after almost two weeks of heavy downpours. The Astico had dangerously swelled up, as well as the several creeks that ran down from the mountains on both sides, but luckily, there had been no flows so far, at least in Valdastico. However, the hither riverbank had given way in three places, sliding into the turbulent waters; therefore, the countess had sent all available men to fix the damage.

Alisa caught sight of a man approaching the castle's entrance, looking in terrible haste. He had to be known to the guards, as they let him in immediately. Foreboding trouble, Alisa left her spot on the battlements and hurried down to the entrance hall.

She had been right indeed: the man was Tommaso, the head of the small community of San Pietro. He looked in poor conditions, dishevelled and with dried mud on his simple, but usually clean clothes.

"Tommaso!" cried Alisa. "What happened?"

The middle-aged man bowed respectfully to his countess. "My lady, San Pietro suffered heavy damage from the rains", he told her in a shaken voice. "A cottage, two of our storage buildings, and a stable collapsed. Two people are dead, as well as livestock, and several other people are injured, a couple of them severely. We need food supply for the coming winter, and most of all, a medic."

"I will immediately see to organise aid", Alisa decided at once. "You go to the kitchens and have some food, then rest."

Tommaso bowed again. "Thank you, my lady. I knew we could count on your support."

Alisa nodded absentmindedly, her brain already in motion on how manage the help. She sent for Jacques and Stefano, her closest collaborators, to join her in her workroom.

Soon enough, both men were in front of her and Alisa told them about the situation.

"The path to San Pietro is too narrow and treacherous for packhorses", she said, speaking in a resolute and practical way. "We need mules. At least half a dozen. Captain Le Gris, you will go get them from the peasants around the castle. Their full gear too. Stefano, you will take care of the supplies to carry to San Pietro: flour, yeast, bread, dried meat, honey, cheese, eggs, and anything else that will come to your mind. And send at once for Ruggero, the physician. We leave tomorrow at dawn." She looked from Jacques to Stefano and back. "Any questions?"

"Nay, my lady," Jacques replied, his voice steady but distant. He stood in front of Alisa with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed somewhere just over her shoulder, never directly meeting her gaze. It had become a habit, a way to maintain the respectful distance he had imposed between them. Every time he lookedinto her eyes, the ache in his chest grew unbearable, and so he avoided it whenever he could. "I will gather the mules and make sure they are fully equipped. We'll be ready to depart by dawn", he repeated, just to make sure he had fully understood everything.

As Alisa nodded in confirmation, he lowered his head just enough to be polite but never enough to feel like anything other than a duty. He had been meticulous about that, keeping their relationship formal, professional, and distant. It was what she deserved, and expected. And it was what he needed to do. After all, it was his fault for falling in love with her, for letting himself being swept away by feelings he should have kept in check. His role was to serve, to protect, and nothing more.

Yet, every moment spent near her was agony. The distance he enforced was a constant punishment, a reminder of his failure to stay true to his mission, to keep his heart guarded. He knew Alisa deserved better than a knight who couldn't even keep his emotions under control, and this only made him loathe himself all the more. Perhaps her father had been right about his reputation, after all. A ladies' man, incapable of separating duty from lust.

And yet, he didn't want just to bed her, as he had wanted to do with many other women in the past.

He had thought he had been in love with Marguerite, his best friend's wife, but this... this was different. With Marguerite, his judgement had been clouded, ruled by desire; but with Alisa, his mind was clear enough to enable him to conceal his feelings for her.

The difference lay in the respect and the admiration he felt for the Countess of Valdastico. Of course, he had respected and admired Marguerite too, but that had been the formal and somewhat fake respect a gentleman was expected to show for a noblewoman, and the admiration that strays into lust; whereas for Alisa, he felt the deep and true respect and admiration one gives only to somebody who had earned it through actions and facts.

What other reason could there be for his falling so hopelessly for her? Alisa was his employer, his lady, and he had no right to let these feelings cloud his judgment. Yet, here he was, standing before her, heart pounding, trying to appear nothing more than a dutiful knight. It was torture, but it was necessary.

Alisa continued to speak, explaining the mission ahead and the need for supplies and mules. Jacques silently wished she would send him off on the journey alone. Perhaps then, away from her, he could regain some control over himself, steel his heart once more. But, of course, it was no surprise that she would accompany the relief effort. Alisa was always hands-on, always determined to care for her people herself. It was one of the many things he admired about her... one of the many things that had made it impossible for him to keep his heart untouched.

He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face, knowing it was foolish to hope for something different. Still, the thought of spending more time in her presence, of enduring the sting of every interaction, made his chest tighten. He just hoped they could keep their exchanges to a minimum, and that the urgency of the task ahead would allow them both to focus on the mission and nothing else.

"Is there anything else you require, my lady?" Jacques asked, keeping his tone neutral, professional. He kept his eyes on the map spread across the table, his heart quietly begging for an escape from the conversation. Anything to avoid the pain that came with every word exchanged between them.

There was a brief pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He braced himself, waiting for her response, hoping she wouldn't notice the turmoil he was trying so hard to suppress.

"That's all, Jacques, Stefano," she said, dismissing them with a soft nod.

Stefano gave Alisa a low bow, as appropriate for his humbler station, while Jacques instead gave her slighter one. He turned on his heel and, following the steward, he left without another word, his steps brisk as he set about fulfilling her orders. Orders, he reminded himself. Not requests. Yet, despite the walls he tried so hard to build around his heart, his mind betrayed him at every turn.

As he walked through the castle's corridors, his thoughts replayed every moment of his interaction with Alisa. The image of her standing before him, confident and beautiful, haunted him. The sound of her voice, warm and commanding, still echoed in his ears, and that unmistakable floral scent, the one he could never escape, clung to him as if it were his own. It was maddening how deeply ingrained she had become in his every sense...

OOO

When both men had left to fulfil their tasks, Alisa sat back in her armchair, feeling heavy-hearted. No matter how much thought she gave to it, she was unable to understand why Jacques' attitude had been so often distant, almost cold, after they had comeback home from Asolo and Bembo had been disposed of. She missed terribly the easiness they had shared in each other's company before that dreadful adventure, the friendliness, the camaraderie. What had ruined it all? Something she had said, or done... or not done? She couldn't imagine what though. She had always treated Jacques the same way, as something more than a trustworthy right-hand man: her knight, her champion. Someone she could rely on, knowing he would always support her, no matter what.

What had changed?

Alisa felt a lump in her throat. She had hoped she had found a true friend, and for some time it had appeared it was so; but now, she wondered if she had been wrong, maybe just imagining things.

Still... There were times when she caught him watching her with an intensity that warmed her soul. She felt protected, cherished, even loved. As a friend, of course, not a lover.

The thought had Alisa recalling what she had told Bembo to gain time: that she had a lover, and he was Jacques Le Gris. She blushed: she hadn't found the courage to tell him this detail yet, and doubted she ever would. She was too ashamed. However, suddenly she wondered why it had to make her feel uncomfortable. After all, she was struggling to stay safe from the Count of Asolo's despicable attentions, and every mean had been good. So why did she think it was too embarrassing to tell him...?

Alisa heaved a sigh and rose: she had things to take care of, her duty as the feudal lady of Valdastico came prior to her problems, whatever they were. The hamlet of San Pietro was in dire need right now: there was no room for personal problems.

But the heaviness in her heart remained.

OOO

The next morning, Jacques was up early, meticulously overseeing the preparations. Every mule was checked, the supplies counted and recounted. He ensured everything was in perfect order, as it had to be, for Alisa's sake. His subordinates carried out hisorders with quiet efficiency, knowing their captain's demand for perfection.

Just as Jacques gave the final instructions to one of his men, he heard it: the sound that had the power to speed up his heartbeat in an instant. Alisa's voice carried through the courtyard, soft and melodic, but enough to seize his attention completely.

His eyes darted across the yard, and there she was, in her practical male attire, her presence commanding the space as she moved gracefully towards the departing group. Jacques found himself drinking in the sight of her before he could stop himself: her form, her gait, the way the morning light caught her hair. His heart stuttered in his chest as she neared, and he cursed himself for being so easily affected.

Alisa greeted the others first, her kind smile and soft words extended to everyone in her service.

And then she reached him.

Jacques stiffened, forcing himself to appear composed even as his heart raced.

"Good morning, Jacques," she greeted him warmly, her gaze holding the same gentle kindness that she offered to everyone.

He smiled back, though the ache inside him threatened to surface. "Good morning, my lady. I trust you are well and ready for our journey. You look radiant, as always. Your presence alone will surely bring comfort to those we seek to help," he said, the words escaping before he could restrain the emotion laced within them.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to relish her attention, but then, just as quickly, she turned to Stefano, greeting him with the same warmth and care. Jacques' heart clenched, that familiar sting piercing him as her attention shifted away.

Just her employee, he reminded himself sharply. That's all he was, and that's all he would ever be. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to collect his emotions and put his feelings aside. He had a mission to fulfil, and he couldn't afford to let this distraction interfere.

Focused on the bustle around them, Alisa hadn't seen his sudden closure, her eyes taking in all the activity. "I see that everything is ready. Well done, Jacques", she praised him.

Jacques opened his eyes, his expression carefully composed, masking the turmoil beneath. He forced himself to respond in the same cold, distant tone he had relied on for weeks now. "Thank you, my lady. I simply strive to fulfil my duties," he replied, his voice devoid of emotion. Each word felt like a barrier, keeping his feelings locked away.

Once more, Alisa was bewildered at Jacques' behaviour. At first, he had been friendly and open, even offering her a quite warm compliment that had thrilled her. For a moment, he had been like in the early days of their acquaintance, when he had beenfrank and amicable. Only moments later, though, he was distant and formal again. It was as if two people inhabited his soul, at war with each other. It was utterly confusing. However, Alisa carefully concealed her frustration, pretending she hadn't noticed anything.

When she didn't immediately respond, Jacques felt that the silence between them grew heavy. His resolve faltered, and before he could stop himself, his eyes sought hers.

The moment their gazes met, something inside him crumbled. He couldn't tear himself away, couldn't stop the flood of emotions that surged within him. He studied her eyes, the warmth, the kindness... and something deeper that tugged at his heart.

He swallowed hard, the weight of unspoken words thick in his throat. The feelings he had tried so desperately to bury clawed their way to the surface. For a moment, he was exposed, vulnerable, unable to hide the depth of what he felt. But still, the words wouldn't come. The confession he longed to make remained trapped inside, as his heart warred with his sense of duty.

When their eyes met, Alisa's breath hitched. Jacques' gaze revealed a deep turmoil, as if his soul was troubled, and for the first time, she perceived a vulnerability that she hadn't been aware existed in such a valiant, confident, strong and virile man. Her throat clenched, her heart going out to him.

"Is something wrong, Jacques?" she asked softly. "You know you can tell me anything..."

But he was already shaking his head in the negative. "No, nothing's wrong, my lady", he said reassuringly, but the sound of it rang untrue in her ears. "Just trying to figure out every possible trouble ahead."

Alisa's brown eyes were soft, but she didn't hide her disbelief. "Please, Jacques, if there's something bothering you, remember that you can count on my support, just like I know I can count on yours. It goes both ways. And should you just need a friendly ear, I'm here."

He held her gaze for one moment longer, then nodded stiffly. "Thank you, my lady."

From his tone, Alisa guessed he would never do such thing. She suppressed a frustrated sigh and turned to Stefano, standing just a few steps away. "Come on, let's start right away."

She nimbly sprang on her steed and Jacques did as much. They would go mounted as far as possible, then they would continue on foot, while one of the armigers of the escort would take their horses back to the castle. Tommaso, the head of San Pietro hamlet, led the way on foot, followed by Jacques and Alisa, then a couple of armigers, on foot as well, and then came the train of mules; at the rearguard, two more armigers and the only mounted guard, who was tasked to take back the horses.

The sun rose in a clear sky, pinking the mountain peaks. It was cool, and Alisa shivered a little, adjusting her furred cloak around her; but at least, it was unlikely it would rain today.

She stole a glance at Jacques, who was riding at her side, but he was staring straight ahead. They usually chatted, when they were riding together, but this morning, Alisa was unwilling to engage in a casual conversation with him. Not when she longed to know what bothered him and if she could offer any assistance with it. Not when his refusal to confide in her made her heart tighten so painfully. It was as if, for some reason she was unable to fathom, he mistrusted her. The thought made her eyes sting, because she knew she didn't deserve his distrust, but she fought her tears back and sat straight, turning her gaze to the road ahead.

Jacques rode in silence. The crisp morning air and the soft pink glow of the rising sun over the mountain peaks offered a peaceful backdrop, but it did little to ease the ache in his heart. His eyes remainedfixed on the path ahead, resisting the temptation to glance her way or strike up the easy conversations they used to share. The distance he had placed between them, though necessary in his mind, had only grown more painful with each passing day.

He noticed suddenly that Alisa was unusually silent. This unsettled him even further. She had always filled their journeys with talk of the land, the people, or anecdotes from her life, always bringing a sense of warmth and connection. Today, however, she only spoke in brief exchanges with the others. Jacques found himself missing the sound of her voice addressing him more than he cared to admit, an emptiness growing in the quiet. The longing to hear her speak to him gnawed at him, but he kept his thoughts tightly locked away, focusing on the road ahead.

They progressed along the road for almost one hour, until they arrived to a small stone bridge crossing the turbulent waters of the Astico. Alisa pulled Fireflower's reins, stopping her, and dismounted. The whole convoy halted.

"We'll continue on foot from here", she announced.

Jacques sprang down from Vaillant and led him and Alisa's mare to the armiger on the rearguard, who would take them back home. When the man turned to leave, Jacques returned to the front of the train and they started hiking up the narrow trail leading to San Pietro.

The route grew more difficult as they trekked along the winding path. The recent rains had left the ground slick and unstable, the trail littered with wet leaves and jagged rocks, making every step treacherous. Tommaso led the way, and Jacques followed him, with Alisa close beside, his attention split between the dangers of the path and ensuring the others behind them navigated safely.

Suddenly, Alisa lost her footing on a particularly slippery patch of earth. She swayed to the side, and in an instant, Jacques was there. His reflexes quick, he grasped her elbow firmly, steadying her before she could fall. She leaned into him, trying to regain her balance.

He felt a jolt at the contact, his pulse quickening as he became acutely aware of how close she was. Her warmth, her presence... it overwhelmed him. The feeling lingered far too long, making it difficult for him to pull away.

"Careful, my lady," he managed to whisper, his voice low and carefully controlled.

Alisa steadied herself, then she looked up and their eyes met. "Thank you, Jacques," she said softly, offering him a grateful smile. "That could have ended badly: a sprained ankle or even a broken leg."

He nodded stiffly, quickly tearing his gaze away and straightening his expression. His grip loosened as he stepped back, forcing himself to act as if nothing had happened. He couldn't let his emotions show. Not here. Not now. The tension that coursed through him was undeniable, but he buried it deep, masking any hint of concern that might betray what he truly felt.

The rest of the journey passed in similar silence, though the terrain remained challenging. They carefully navigated each step to avoid further incidents, and Jacques remained mindful of Alisa's safety, always staying close by her side. But he kept the conversation to a minimum, unable to trust his voice or his emotions.

When they finally arrived in San Pietro, the damage from the rains was even worse than they had expected. The small hamlet was battered: collapsed buildings, scattered debris, and villagers who looked worn and desperate. The sight stirred something in Jacques. This, he reminded himself, was why he was here. His duty was to protect and serve, to help those in need. His own emotional turmoil had no place in this moment.

Ruggero, the physician, immediately set to work, tending to the injured with practiced efficiency. Jacques watched him for a moment before turning his focus to the supplies they had brought. Together, he and Alisa began distributing food and provisions to the villagers, working methodically to ensure everyone received what they needed.

As they moved through the crowd, Alisa's hand briefly brushed against his arm, and the familiar ache returned. Jacques tensed, the unwanted emotions rising once more. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, knowing he had to push those feelings aside. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts.

As time passed, Jacques felt exhaustion settle over him, not from the physical labour, but from the constant internal battle he fought every time he was near Alisa. He watched her as she offered words of comfort to the villagers, her voice gentle and reassuring. She was everything a leader should be: compassionate, wise, strong. And yet, the more he admired her, the harder it became to control the emotions he had tried so desperately to suppress.

Steeling himself once more, Jacques took a deep breath. He would continue to serve her, as he always had. But he would lock those feelings away, bury them deep where they couldn't cause any harm. She deserved his loyalty, not his heartache. And perhaps, if he kept his distance, the pain would subside, in time.

Eventually, they finished distributing the supplies they had brought from Valdastico. At this point, Alisa asked Tommaso to lead her around the hamlet to assess the true extent of the damage. Jacques, as was his duty, went with her.

A landslide had destroyed completely one cottage and partly other three; the raging waters of the nearby creekhad ripped off the mill's wheel, which had impacted against a stable, bringing it down and killing all the cattle inside. The roof of another stable and of a sheepfold had collapsed, causing the death of most animals, and two of the storehouses too had crumbled down, destroying all the supplies and tools inside.

Alisa promised help from the castle, both with building materials and manpower, as well as more supplies, not just food but also clothes, blankets and other essential goods. The priest would come too, to celebrate the funeral service for the two dead people, hoping that there wouldn't be more and Ruggero would be able to save and fix all the injured ones.

When the sun signalled it was noon, Tommaso called for a break. "My lady, you need to eat and rest a little", he said. "As well as everyone else in your group, and myself." He chuckled with auto-irony. "I asked my wife to prepare a simple meal for you and Captain Le Gris, if you're willing to honour my humble house with your presence."

"I am grateful for your offer, dear Tommaso", Alisa smiled tiredly at him. "The honour is ours to accept. But what about my men?"

Tommaso gestured towards a chubby woman standing in the doorframe of one of the larger cottages. "Anna will host them, she has already cooked one of her tasty and nourishing soups she's well-known for, here in San Pietro."

"Then 'tis alright." Alisa's smile widened. She turned to Jacques. "I'm quite hungry, and you?"

In response, Jacques' stomach growled, as he hadn't eaten one bite since before dawn. The noise made Alisa chuckle and he felt embarrassed, but then, her stomach too growled and she slapped a hand over her mouth as she tried in vain not to laugh aloud. The comical side of the situation struck Jacques, breaking through his gloomy mood and eliciting an unsuppressible grin out of him.

The sight of his amused smile undid Alisa and she broke into giggles. This only made Jacques smile even wider as he chuckled in turn, his brooding thoughts forgotten for one moment. "We do really need some food", he commented quietly, offering his arm to Alisa with a spontaneity that had become increasingly rare over the past six weeks.

Pleased by his positively friendly reaction, Alisa accepted his arm and together they followed Tommaso to his cottage.

They had a delicious, albeit simple meal with beef stew and bread, drinking some home-made beer that tasted quite bitter, but that Alisa appreciated a lot. The conversation with Jacques was easy like it hadn't been for some time, and Alisa was over the moon to see him seemingly back to his former self.

When they finished their meal, they got outside again. The sun was already starting its descent and, so up in the valley, the shadows of night would come all too soon.

"'Tis time to start the return trip", Alisa said, shielding her eyes against the sunshine.

Jacques nodded in agreement and took his leave with a respectful bow, then started off to fetch the men. The physician only would stay, to keep tending to the wounded.

As they were preparing to leave, several people approached Alisa.

"Thank you, my lady", said a woman, bending low to brush Alisa's hand almost reverently. "You are our salvation."

"Aye, you are indeed!" cried a man beside her, and more people joined in the chorus of praise and gratefulness.

Tears moistened Alisa's eyes at this display of love and deference. She cleared her throat from the lump that was starting to form in it. "'Tis my station to help my people", she said, steadying her voice. "Anyone would do the same."

After collecting the thanks of all the inhabitants of San Pietro, Alisa, Jacques and the armigers, as well as the men with the mules, started their journey back to the castle.

"I disagree, my lady", said Jacques in an earnest tone, walking beside Alisa as he had done during the outward trip. At her quizzical look, he elaborated. "Not anyone would do what you did today. Not Bembo, for sure. Not even my former feudal lord, the Count of Alençon. Thus, do not belittle your deeds, my lady. You deserve all the praise you received today from your people", he concluded.

His solemn tone held a deep admiration that heated Alisa's very soul. She smiled at him affectionately. "Thank you, Jacques", she said, her simple words laced with gratitude and warmth.

The knight just bowed his head, his face once more unreadable as his demeanour returned distant as it had been since their frightful adventure with Bembo. Alisa's smile faded and she sighed inwardly, a poignant feeling settling into her heart.

OOO

The journey back to Valdastico had started with the kind of stillness that comes before calamity. Jacques felt it in the air: a tension just beneath the surface, a quiet warning. The path grew narrower, the ground more treacherous, and he couldn't shakethe sense that something was off. Every shift of the mules' hooves on the loose soil sent a trickle of pebbles down into the ravine below, but he kept his focus steady, always aware of Alisa beside him.

Just as they approached a particularly tight bend, Jacques' eyes caught the mule at the front of their line suddenly stumble, its footing uneasy on the wet, unstable earth. And then, the inevitable happened.

Without any warning, the ground beneath them began to crumble, dragging the mule, its handler, and others into a landslide that cascaded violently toward the river. The sound was deafening, a roar of collapsing earth that swallowed the world around them.

In an instant, Jacques reached for Alisa, instinctively trying to protect her. "Hold on!" he shouted, though the noise of the disaster drowned out his voice.

Alisa screamed in alarm as the ground under her feet gave way. One moment she was walking, the next she was sliding dangerously down the side of the mountain – right to the Astico River flowing at its bottom, about twenty metres below the path they weretreading. The noise of the landslide – moving dirt, tumbling rocks, falling trees, mule brays, men yells – was terrifying, but amidst the pandemonium, she could hear Jacques shouting her name. Out of breath, she was unable to answer his call as she desperately tried to find something to grab onto in order to stop the fall, or at least to slow it down. She dug her fingers into the mud, but it slid along with her, offering no hold.

One moment later, Alisa hit the tumultuous waters and went down. Luckily she was a good swimmer and didn't panic; she kicked hard to regain the surface, but her soaked cloak felt heavy, dragging her back towards the cold depths.

Jacques plunged into the water just one second after Alisa. Panic surged inside of him as he saw her head sinking under the turbulent surface. With every ounce of strength, he lunged toward her, managing to catch her cloak in his grasp. It was a split-second action, but it was enough. He pulled her close, forcing her towards the bank of the river with all his might, pushing her clear of the tumbling rocks and sliding dirt.

When Alisa felt someone grabbing her cloak, she immediately knew it was Jacques. She kicked harder and, between this and Jacques' pull, she resurfaced, gasping for breath.

Using her cloak, Jacques towed her toward the riverbank, where he tossed her with a mighty thrust. Then, he tried to haul himself up onto the bank, but the current grabbed at him fiercely. The icy water surged around him.

Alisa rolled onto her side and saw him in the unrelenting grip of the raging river. "Jacques!" she cried out in alarm as she scrambled to her knees, reaching for him.

Jacques barely heard her in the roar of the water. At that moment, a heavy branch hit him square in the head. Pain exploded through his skull, the world around him spinning violently out of control. His grip faltered, and with one final, helpless glance at Alisa, he was pulled back into the river's dark, frigid depths.

The last thing he heard was Alisa screaming his name again before the world around him went dark.

Horrified, Alisa saw Jacques' body going limp as the force of the river carried him downstream. "NOOO!" she yelled. "Jacques!"

Desperate, Alisa tried to stand, but fell again onto her knees, weak from shock and pain. With her pulse hammering in her ears, she crawled to the muddy edge of the bank, searching the water with wild, frantic eyes, but she was unable to catch sight of her beloved knight and friend.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as realisation hit her: he had saved her, pushed her out of harm's way, but now he was lost to the water, swallowed by the raging river.

The current was too strong, and the swirling mud and debris made it impossible to see anything clearly.

Panic clawed at her throat as she fought against the urge to jump into the water after him, her mind keeping a sliver of common sense that told her she was likely to drown in the attempt to save Jacques, as she had by far not the strength to fight the raging water and to pull his heavy body to the safety of the riverbank.

The carcass of one of the mules floated by, swirling wildly in the violent currents of the Astico. The lifeless body of a man followed it closely.

The river had claimed two more victims.

"No!" Alisa yelled again. "I can't lose him... I can't!"

Then, she glimpsed the form of another man, daringly challenging the furious waters. He was swimming purposefully, but not to the bank. Alisa succeeded in standing at last, getting a better view: it was Carlo, the archer who had lent her the bow she used in the clash with Bembo and his men. He grabbed something in the water, then started to swim to shore. The current would carry him downstream for a good stretch and Alisa stumbled forward to go and meet him. With each step, she regained strength and finally, she managed to walk steadily, faster and faster, until she was running.

Carlo touched the bank and hauled someone with him. Alisa arrived and flung herself to her knees beside the motionless body. "Jacques!" she cried, recognising him. There was blood on the side of his head. Alisa reached for his neck, feeling for the pulse. There! Weak, unsteady, but his heart was still beating. "He's alive!"

"Let's drag him away from the river", Carlo managed to pant through his heavy breaths.

Together, they pulled him further up the bank. Alisa spotted more blood on Jacques' left thigh and checked: a nasty-looking gash run diagonally from his knee almost up to his hip. Thankfully it had missed the femoral artery, or he would bleed to death in just minutes.

"Jacques is alive, but seriously injured", Alisa said, looking at Carlo. "We need to get help, and quickly."

"Aye, my lady", agreed the armiger, scrambling to his feet. He scanned the sky. "The sun is westering", he considered. "'Tis going to be very cold tonight."

"This makes the need for help even more urgent", said Alisa, a note of anguish in her voice as she stared at Jacques' ashen face.

Carlo looked around, checking the surroundings. "I know where we are", he announced, his breath coming less laboured already. "We're not very far from Friar Brando's hermitage."

"I know of him", Alisa nodded, hope lighting her eyes. "He's a good healer, and a generous man. He will help us in every way he can. Go and fetch him, Carlo."

The armiger looked at her, hesitant. "I cannot leave you here, alone and unprotected, my lady", he objected.

Alisa shook her head impatiently. "There's nobody here", she pointed out. "Besides, we cannot carry Jacques to Friar Brando's abode, just the two of us. Nor do I want to leave Jacques. Go to Brando as fast as you can and come back with him. That's an order."

"Aye, Countess", said Carlo, snapping to attention. Jacques Le Gris was his captain, but the Countess Malatesta was his mistress and he must obey her without question.

As Carlo started off in a run, Alisa returned her attention to Jacques. She lifted her jacket and untucked her shirt, then grabbed her dagger – thanks God she hadn't lost it in the slide and the following plunge in the river – and cut it, ripping off a strip of fabric. She used it to roughly bandage the cut in Jacques' thigh, which was bleeding profusely, and then another one to do as much with the wound on his head.

Alisa shivered in her drenched clothes. Nonetheless, she took off her cloak, wrung it out as best as she could and used it to cover Jacques, in the hope to keep him warm. Or warmer than she was, at least.

However, after a few minutes Alisa started to shake uncontrollably with cold. There was only one solution: sharing body heat. Hence, she lifted one corner of the cloak and slid under it, next to Jacques. After rearranging the furred cape around them, she hugged him tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, and waited for Carlo to return.