Lair of the Lion

wife was dead. Nothing would bring her back. Her blood seeped into the ground, and to this day, nothing grows in that courtyard. He buried her, and she remains deep beneath the palazzo. But burying her did not free him from his dark deed.
    He could not sleep or eat. The conditions in the valley worsened. Don Alexander grew thin and weary. What he had done to his wife preyed on him. He quietly began to investigate the charges against his wife, as he should have before he condemned her. He became convinced that Sophia was truly innocent, and he had committed a terrible sin, a terrible crime. He had not only allowed his enemies to murder his wife, but he had aided them to do so. He went to the other dons and laid before them the horrendous deed they had participated in. And they, too, realized their wives had betrayed them through jealousies."
    Isabella jumped up and paced restlessly across the room. "Now you have me feeling bad for all of them, while they all deserved to be unhappy. Alexander most of all."
    "He suffered greatly, Isabella. Terrible things happened, and he was helpless to do anything but witness the dissolution of the three houses. He decided to go to Rome. He wanted to find someone to talk to him about the Christian beliefs. He was looking for redemption, for some way to right the wrong he had committed. In the end, he did not undertake the journey alone. The heads of the other two houses accompanied him. They went into the city to find that the Christians had been rounded up and torn apart by lions for the amusement of the crowds. It was an ugly and terrifying scene, watching the animals tear men, women, and children to pieces.
    "Alexander went a little crazy and vowed to destroy the lions. He found his way below ground, where they kept the lions. They were in cages, chained, without food, taunted and teased. It was said each lion was confined in a space so small the animal could not even turn around. The guards tormented the beasts, slicing their skin to make them hate all that was human. Alexander went up to a cage with his sword, wanting to sink it into the creature, but instead, he took pity on it. The pity he had not had for his own beloved wife. He could not force himself to kill when he was so guilty. The others tried to convince him, but he would not listen. He insisted the other dons get to safety, and he freed the lions from the cages, fully expecting to be torn apart."
    Sarina sighed and placed her teacup on the tray. "It is said that when the three dons returned to the valley, DeMarco wore scars on his face, and the lions paced beside him.
    Still, it was not redemption. He could find no happiness, and neither would his children or their children. When they returned, they found the other two houses in ruins. DeMarco pulled the houses together under one holding and sealed the valley from intruders. The three famiglie have remained together since, their lives interwoven in prosperity and in hardship.
    From that time until this time, DeMarco has held dominion over the lions and kept the valley safe from invaders. Some say a great veil, a shroud of mist and magick, covers the valley and hides it from all who would seek to conquer. But from that time to this, no DeMarco has loved without pain, betrayal, and death." Sarina shrugged. "Who knows what is truth and what is story?"
    "Well, that's the saddest thing I've ever heard, but it can't possibly be true. Surely there have been happy marriages in the DeMarco house," Isabella said, struggling to remember what she had heard of the DeMarco name. Lucca had often told her tales of the mountain holdings. The stories to scare the children of a lion man who fought entire armies and led a legion of beasts into battle. Stories of betrayal and savage deaths.
    "Happy marriages do not always last," Sarina replied sadly. "Come, let us speak of other things. I'll show you around the palazzo."
    Isabella tried a few times to pry more information out of the housekeeper, but the woman refused to say another word on the subject of lions and myths. Throughout the day Isabella thought often of Don DeMarco, alone, out in the snow. No one spoke of him or alluded to him. The castello was bustling, the servants working to keep the great halls and multitude of enormous rooms cleaned and polished. She had never seen such magnificence, such richness in a holding, and she wondered anew at the don's ability to retain his lands when so many invaders had, time and again, managed