The Bard

By Karen Bedore

After losing her mother and fiancé, Alcinia and her father travel west to Turin in the Duchy of Savoy to begin a new life. Getting adjusted to a new way of living in Renaissance Italy, Alcinia falls in love with a mysterious bard, and through their secret rendezvous is beginning to find happiness once again. Until...she finds out that her small-town father isn’t who she thought he was. Alcinia gets caught in a web of intrigue, and sets out to save her father from a scientific organization bent on using a biological weapon to destroy all men of the cloth. Her father’s life might be the only way to stop it... When she discovers the truth, it will change her life forever, for better and for worse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Bedore
• Release date: Jul 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311161376

Karen Bedore

On a typical day, one could find Karen in the throngs of adolescent wonderment, trying to create harmonious music making to the next generation of superstars. From the very first squeaks of “Hot Cross Buns” to the concert-worthy lavish lyrical sounds of “Danny Boy,” there is much magic and transformation that occurs within the four walls of her band room.After being fueled by many cups of coffee to sustain the never-ending insanity of middle school energy, she arrives home to the role of wife (to a wonderful husband) and mother (of an amazing little boy), cherishing every moment (okay, perhaps not the whining...). Navigating through the perilous maze of Hot Wheels and Monster Jam trucks, the family can be found reading and telling stories—the perfect way to end the day.However...Secretly (well, not so secret any more), she is an undercover author, who dons a pair of spy-worthy shades and laces up her trainers for a run to build endurance–not just for races or to keep up with the hectic pace of life–but to escape from this world to an alternate one where history and romance meet, fueled by suspense–and of course–wonderful music.

Book preview

The

Bard

KAREN BEDORE

Copyright 2015 Karen Bedore

2nd Edition

All rights reserved.

This book is available in print at most online retailers

ISBN: 1508627053

ISBN-13: 978-1508627050

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The Bard is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are used fictitiously. The song in chapter 14 is part of an English translation from John Dunstable’s Veni Sancte Spiritus. All quotes appearing at the beginning of each chapter are the original work of the author.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Grazie to my husband Adam who put up with my mild obsession to write this book, and for the amazing cover art.

Grazie to my friend Stephanie for believing in me and sharing in this amazing adventure with me.

Grazie to my friends and authors G.P. Ching and Rick Polad for lending me advice on putting this work out to the public.

PROLOGUE

Italy, 1448

You cannot know today if the sun will shine tomorrow, but believe it and it will be so.

Alcinia looked back on her small cittidina one last time. Smoke was still billowing from the ruins as the surviving townspeople trudged off in search of a new life. It had been a few days since the Emperor’s siege; just enough time to dig through the rubble and pack what little belongings were salvageable. Her eyes watered as she remembered how beautiful life had been, the warm summers they had spent together down by the creek, the biting winter air cutting through the blanket she shared with him. . .the one she had sewn their initials into.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was her father.

Alcinia, cara, look not on your past, but on what is to come! Think of this of a journey into a new life. Few people can say that they’ve been given an entirely new second chance. God has done this for a reason, though we may not know its meaning right now.

She answered him with a heavy sigh.

Grazie, Papa.

Giving the cittidina one last look, she turned around, and with her head hung low, trudged forward behind her father. If only he were here, it wouldn’t be so bad. He would take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, and she’d believe him.

CH. 1

Ah, but to see with the eyes is not merely enough—one must learn to see with the heart into the soul.

Alcinia was quiet as she helped her father secure the last of their belongings to their horses that had miraculously survived the destruction. She wasn’t sure what to make of their departure, since they would be traveling without the security of the rest of the survivors, who were making their way south. Instead, they were headed west, towards the chaos that was ensuing between France and England. The last thing they needed was to get caught up in that whole mess, but her father assured her they would be safe.

She learned then that when he—Giuseppe Fruili—was a younger man and Alcinia merely a baby, he had been out hunting when he came across a man who had been left for dead in the forest, beaten and robbed by bandits. He brought him back to town and saw that he was cared after, paying for it out of his own daily wages. It so happened that the man was a member of the royal court of the Duchy of Savoy from Turin, traveling through the Republic of Genoa looking for their government’s help with negotiations between England and France. With a written vow to repay his kindness should the circumstances ever arise, the man, Lord William Gordon, completed his negotiations and returned home.

God willing, he would still be there, still be alive. Fortunately, the document was kept intact, now tucked safely away in the pocket of the horse’s saddle pack. All they had to do now was make it there safely.

Alcinia dared not even one last look as they mounted their horses and rode off. She needed to be strong now, for all of them. The horrors that had befallen them in the middle of that night would be forever etched in her mind: The sounds of her mother screaming as she was dragged from their home being brutally raped and killed while she helplessly watched from an upstairs window, and the vision of her love who had come to rescue her family, killing her mother’s attacker, only to be stabbed from behind himself.

She knew that if she were to survive, the only way to do it at this point was to outsmart her attacker. She ran to her father, and taking a knife and slicing her palm, she put her blood on the back of her father’s neck and told him to do the same to her, also leaving some on the floor and their clothes. They lay face down in an awkward way and tried their best not to let on that they were indeed still breathing.

Luckily the ruse worked, and they were spared as their home was searched. Only when the last sounds of yelling and cheering disappeared in the distance did they even dare to open their eyes. They dressed the wounds on their palms and went to survey the damage.

It was worse than anything Alcinia could have ever imagined. Bodies were broken and strewn about like a child’s unwanted ragdolls. Buildings were on fire and turning to ash. Those that were able were trying to search for survivors and carry them to the edge of town.

Alcinia and Giuseppe went to where their loved ones lay. Kneeling down beside the bodies of their loves, they held each other and wept. Her mother was a wonderful woman who always put Giuseppe and Alcinia first. She loved them with every fiber of her being, and they loved her back just as much.

For a moment, Alcinia closed her eyes and a flood of memories came to her. She saw her mother tying ribbons in her hair when she was a little girl, telling her story after story when she tucked her in bed for the night, and letting her sneak a taste of the sweet pastries before Giuseppe found out. She saw her mother comforting her when she was ill, and teaching her to be strong when she felt like giving up. She saw the joy on her mother’s face when she told her that she had been asked to wed.And then there was him. He had fancied her since they were mere children, before she was ever interested in him. He would always extend his chivalry towards her—picking her flowers, walking her home, giving her his cloak when there was a chill in the air. She remembered their first kiss, lying on the rise behind the stable, watching the clouds shift patterns—so innocent. She remembered coming home one day and seeing him sitting at their table with Giuseppe, not knowing that he had come by to ask for her hand in marriage until he put the locket around her neck.

When she opened her eyes, she went to her father and embraced him as he held her mother’s lifeless body.

There was no way that they wanted her to end up in a mass grave only to be burned to ashes, so they quickly dug a grave in what was left of their garden—a place where she used to love to sit and sew. After saying a quick prayer, Giuseppe stood up straight as an arrow. Let us not dwell on what we have lost today, but be thankful that God has spared our lives. Come, let us help the others. And just like that, he was done grieving, at least outwardly.

Alcinia grabbed her father’s arm. But what about… She was not about to let the only man she ever loved be taken and not given a special burial as well. While he wasn’t a part of their family, she would have soon become a part of his, and wouldn’t that count for something?

Her father stopped and turned to her. Go to him. Stay with the body until his family comes for him, if indeed they are alive, and wait for me. I wish to retrieve something from our home and will be with you shortly.

She went back around front to where her lover had fallen, but the body was no longer there. No! She thought. He couldn’t have been carried away yet! She panicked and looked around frantically, but could not see him. A few people were nearby helping others with the fallen, and she asked if anyone had seen him. No one had. She was about to run farther ahead, when she heard her name.

Alcinia!

She could hear her father calling for her, and, not wanting to upset him in this already trying moment, went back to him.

Papa!

She threw herself in his arms and wept some more. He’s gone, Papa, he’s gone! Giuseppe just held his daughter tight, not saying a word. What could he say? All he could do was be there for her.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she brought her hand to her neck and brushed her fingers over the locket that he had given her when he asked for her hand in marriage. She could feel her eyes starting to well up with tears, but pushed them back.

I must be strong. For him. For my father. For me. God, grant me thy strength, she whispered.

* * *

The days seemed endless with travel. At times it was difficult to face the weather, and the people in the towns where they paused to rest weren’t always cordial. They were foreigners, and as foreigners always were, they were treated with suspicion and caution. Even if the townsfolk seemed friendly, Alcinia and Giuseppe could always feel eyes on their backs and hear whispers brushing their ears. Their stay in any one town was never long—sometimes only for as long as a hot meal would last, for they wanted to make it to Savoy as soon as possible.

However, when they were passing through the town of Polperro, they lingered a bit longer than usual.

Polperro was larger than their cittidina, though not as grand as some of the larger cities her father had told her about. Humble-looking shops lined the streets, giving the city a cozy feel, and the citizens exchanged pleasantries with each other as they went about their business. A few even smiled and nodded to them as they passed by, making them feel welcome.

Large trees were scattered throughout the town square blocking the sun, and a welcomed breeze rejuvenated them as they made their way through the city. Walking past a blacksmith’s shop, Giuseppe paused to stop and watch the man at his craft. The man was very good at what he did, and the weapons he had on display were some of the finest that Giuseppe had ever seen. He turned to his daughter.

It’s time for you to get a blade of your own.

But Papa, what would I use it for? It is not becoming of a lady to wield a dagger and fight. Nor do I know how to skin an animal.

Alcinia, we know not what lies before us right now, and if ever anything should happen where you’re in a precarious situation, you’d best have some skill with a blade. I pray to God that a situation like that will never find you, but the future is not predictable. Only our good Lord knows what’s in store for us. Now, let’s see what fits your palm.

The blacksmith looked up as they approached. Good day to you, he said. What can I do for you?

My daughter here needs a blade that will suit her hand. Preferably a dagger. Would you be able to help us out?

A look of curiosity came over the man’s face. A blade for a young lady? Now there’s something I don’t see every day. I’m not going to ask what for, but yes, I will help you out. Let me see your dominant hand, miss.

Alcinia held out her hand to him, and he carefully sized her palm and fingers. I have a few here that might suit you just fine, miss, he said as he brought out a few bundles of velvet cloth and carefully unwrapped them for her to look at. Go on, pick one up.

After looking to Giuseppe for approval, he gestured for her to pick up the first dagger. It was beautiful—a sleek leather-wrapped black handle with intricate engraving in the blade itself.

Alcinia picked it up, and turned it over in her palm. It felt quite awkward and unbalanced, but then again she had no idea what she was looking for.

The blacksmith tsked with disapproval. I can tell you right now that won’t be a match, he said, The distance between the quillion tips is too close for you to grasp the handle properly. He then gestured to one with a more simple dark blue handle, accented solely with a silver cross. Try this one.

She picked it up and immediately felt a difference. It felt comfortable, not cumbersome, and it wasn’t too bulky or the blade too long. This time the blacksmith beamed with pride as he clapped his hands together. Ah, what a beautiful fit!

Giuseppe nodded in approval. And a sheath?

Only the finest leatherwork around. Lorenzo is our leatherworker and is just a few streets to the north. He can help you out with not only a sheath but any other leather goods you might need—armor, water skins, shoes...

Perfect. Giuseppe reached in his pack and pulled out a coin purse and paid for the dagger. Thank you greatly for your help. I truly admire your craftsmanship.

The blacksmith gave a slight bow. Many thanks, sir, and turning to Alcinia said, I wish you all the best of luck, young lady.

They said their goodbyes and headed north to Lorenzo’s shop, where Giuseppe bought Alcinia a belt and sheath for the dagger. Giuseppe inquired about weapon training, and was directed to Stefano St. Angelo, who was claimed to be the ‘best fighter around.’

Stefano was throwing daggers on a target range, using various positions and types of throws. Nearly every single time, the blade hit its mark with perfection. Alcinia couldn’t help but to applaud as he did a feign and duck, spinning and letting go of the dagger quicker than her eyes could see. Bull’s-eye.

He looked up and bowed. Good day good sir, madam. Straightening up, he walked over to them. I reckon you’re not from around here now, are you? I usually don’t have an audience while I’m training. He extended a hand to Giuseppe, which he took and shook firmly. I am Stefano St. Angelo, trained fighter and marksman. I typically have to do all the dirty work in this town. He smiled and grasped Alcinia’s hand and kissed it as he bowed. Pleasure to meet you both. May I ask of your names?

Giuseppe spoke up. I am Giuseppe Fruili, and this is my daughter, Alcinia. We are from a small town in the Republic of Genoa, passing through your lovely town on our way to Savoy.

Stefano’s interest piqued at hearing this. Savoy, eh? While I don’t want to pry into your personal business, I must recommend you steer clear of the political turmoil that is plaguing England and France. Savoy is being thrown into the mess a bit, I’m afraid. At least that’s what the news is traveling.

Giuseppe nodded. I shall keep that in mind, thank you. He put his hand on Alcinia’s shoulder. We are here to see you because I have been told you could help train my daughter in the way of the blade.

Stefano’s eyes widened at this news and a hint of a smile appeared across his lips. A lady with a blade? How rare, indeed! How long is your stay here in Polperro?

Unfortunately tonight is our only night. We need to reach Savoy as soon as possible. Giuseppe paused. Can you help us?

Stefano nodded. I shall show the young lady some basic things, but fighting is a craft that can take years to hone your skills.

I understand.

Good. Then let’s not waste any time. Show me your blade, miss.

Alcinia slowly removed the dagger from its sheath, now at her waist. She held it awkwardly, as if the blade would jump out of her hands and slice off her fingers.

Stefano’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and he clasped a hand on her shoulder. "My dear, if you fear the blade as such, you will never learn to use it confidently. You must draw your weapon as if it