The Master of Verona

"Slow and easy," murmured Cangrande. They obeyed, cantering down the slope four abreast, their horses grateful for the relaxed pace. They rode at an easy gait, Cangrande feigning an interest in their surroundings-the hills above, the fields around. Their leader was a consummate actor, and their meandering progress belied the thudding of the young men's blood.

If I die today, thought Pietro, will my father write the tale? Will he make us brave or foolish? He tried to put words together as his father would, but the only words that came to him were from L'Inferno. He found himself speaking them aloud:

Just so do I recall the troops

afraid to leave Caprona with safe-conduct,

Finding themselves among so many enemies.

Twisting in the saddle to face him, Cangrande spoke Virgil's lines from another canto:

And he, as one who understood:

'Here you must banish all distrust,

here all cowardice must be slain.

We have come to where I said

You would see the miserable sinners

Who have lost the good of the intellect.'

Pietro flushed. He hadn't thought he'd spoken loud enough to be heard. "I think my father meant to scorn those who forgo intellect, not praise them."

Cangrande shrugged. "This afternoon he insisted that everything is open to interpretation. Sometimes intellect must succumb to valour."

"I doubt he'd agree."

"He's a poet. He's forgotten what it feels like to live through deeds!"

Antony snorted. "Poets!"

"Give them their due," said Cangrande. "Without them no one would know of brave deeds. And why else do we fight and die but to live on in eternal fame?"

"What else is there to do?" asked Mariotto. "Farm? Raise sheep?"

"Well, there's always women," laughed Cangrande.

"Forgive me, lord," said Mariotto, "but no one was ever famous for loving. At least, no one I'd want to be."

"Hear hear," said Antony.

"Ah, but the best wars are always over a woman!" said Cangrande fondly. "Think of Troy! Helen, she must have been a prize worth winning!"

Antony said, "Think of Abelard! For his love he lost his balls!"

The ensuing laughter carried them down the crest. The enemy had been waiting all day in hope of this moment. The Scaliger, anticipating their impatience, was rewarded. When the four riders were only halfway across the open field, the Paduans crashed from their hiding places under the bridge, emitting shouts of victory.

Expecting some wonderful counter-attack from the Scaliger, the trio of youths were shocked when Cangrande wheeled his horse about and gave it his spurs. "Run!"

For a moment Pietro sat stunned in his saddle. Run? But with Paduan knights bearing down on him, fear crept into his throat and turned his bowels to liquid. He yanked the reins in his left hand and kicked. For one terrifying moment it balked, shaking the muscles on its neck with anger. Spurless, Pietro kicked his heels and yanked at the reins again, hard. Finally the horse obeyed, turning to run after the Scaliger, now a good twenty yards away.

It was an uphill race they couldn't win. The slope was rocky, and Pietro's tired horse was having trouble keeping its legs. The horses in pursuit were fresh, the men driving them eager.

The Scaliger turned in his saddle, looking back at the Paduan soldiers. Pietro saw a hungry smile inside the open cheek pieces of Cangrande's helmet, and understanding struck him.

Atop the hill, the Illasi garrison stepped out of the treeline to face an entirely unprepared enemy. Fully armed and armoured, Cangrande's men swung their shields into place and raised their weapons. Some had axes, maces, morning stars, or spears. Most had long swords.

The Paduans saw the garrison and checked. They had numbers, but terrain and the element of surprise were all with the Veronese. They pulled at their reins, turned their horses' heads. But they knew, they had to know, they were trapped.

Still riding uphill, Pietro was passed by the score of Cangrande's men angling full-tilt down into the ambushers, themselves ambushed in return. Some Paduans fought, some tried to flee. It made no difference in the end.

Pietro watched as the Capitano's men ruthlessly chased each of the Paduans down and killed them. It was the first time Pietro had seen so much death and he made sure he did not turn away. Eerily, Cangrande's men made no noise. The Paduans screamed and shouted, but the Veronese soldiers did their best to do their work in silence. Only the scrape of metal and the thump of hooves marked their passing.