Lair of the Lion

with Don Rivellio's men. Betto is at the barracks, and Sarina is in the kitchen helping Cook prepare meals for everyone. I didn't know what else to do," Brigita wailed. "You'll help her, won't you, signorina? I couldn't send her away."
    "Of course you couldn't," Isabella said briskly.
    Brigita led her to a small room off the servants' entrance. The widow's face still held stunned shock. She looked thin and tired and without hope. She curtseyed immediately and burst into tears at the sight of Isabella. "You must help me to see the don, signorina. I have no food for my bambini. I'm Signora Bertroni. You must help me. You must!" She clutched at Isabella, her cries growing louder.

    "Brigita, tea at once, and please ask Cook to include honeyed biscuits. Have Sarina give you the key to the storehouse, and send two manservants to meet us there in a few minutes."
    Isabella helped the woman into a chair.
    Brigita bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried away from the wailing widow. Isabella murmured soothing condolences until Brigita returned with the tea. "Enough now, Signora Bertroni. We must get to work if we are to save your farm for your sons. Dry your eyes, and let us get to the planning of your future."
    Isabella's calm words and tone brought an end to the woman's wild, abandoned weeping.
    "Where is your eldest boy? Is he old enough to aid you?"
    "He is waiting outside with the little ones."
    "Brigita will mind the little ones while I take you and your son to the storehouse for supplies. I have two men waiting to help us load your wagon. I'll send workers to your farm to plant your crops when it is time, and your son can labor with them and learn."
    "Grazie, grazie, signorina."
    In her haste to complete her task, Isabella didn't take time to throw on her cloak before braving the outdoors. Gray clouds were spreading across the sky and casting dark shadows across the land. The wind tugged at her thin gown, whipped at her hair, and numbed her fingers.
    The storeroom was some distance from the palazzo but still within the outer wall. She glanced around for her two guards, then remembered she had sent them to help Sarina.
    Brigita had not come with her, so she had no one to send back to the kitchen for her guards or her cloak. Sighing, Isabella resigned herself to a cold journey and a lecture from Don DeMarco when her guards reported she had not stayed where she promised.
    The storage house was enormous, a great, hulking building that loomed up very close to the outer wall. The two servants were waiting as Isabella and Signora Bertroni hurried up to them.
    It took some time to find torches and lamps to adequately light the cavernous storehouse in order to find the supplies needed. Then Isabella directed the two men and Signora Bertram's young son to carry out grain and dried fruits in sufficient quantities to see the family through the cold season. She carefully noted each item on a parchment to give to Don DeMarco. The task took longer than she expected, and night had fallen by the time the wagon was loaded.
    Isabella realized just how cold she really was as she turned back to extinguish the torches. It crept in then. Slow. Insidious. That terrible, stomach-churning knowledge that she was not alone. She looked around carefully, but she knew the entity had found her.
    It seemed wrong to send the widow and her children alone to the farm without an escort when the wind was once again howling and the wagon heavily loaded. She feared for them in the darkness with the spiteful, malevolent being waiting to strike. "It is best if you go with Signora Bertroni," she said to the two servants. "Escort the wagon to the farm, unload it, and remain for the night if necessary and report back in the morning."
    Annoyance crossed the face of the younger man. "I have a home to go to. A woman waiting for me. It's cold and late. Let Carlie go." He indicated the older man with a jerk of his thumb.
    "Both of you must go," Isabella said sternly, her expression every bit that of an aristocratica. "You cannot allow this woman and her children to travel unescorted in the darkness. I will hear no more about it."
    The man glared at her, his black eyes snapping with repressed fury. For a moment his mouth worked as though he might burst into a protest, but he set his lips in a hard line and brushed past her, knocking into her hard enough to send her staggering. He kept going without apology, not looking back.
    Isabella stared after him, wondering if she had