Petra Rubea

1285

1285

Alvisio and Fraudolente were like brothers, companions in revelry and looting.

Skilled at hiding in order to attack from behind, on those few occasions in which he found himself face to face with the enemy, Fraudolente, swift and steady, was never subject to defeat.

Alvisio, on the other hand, appeared more placid, having become a soldier almost by accident. He was short and stout with two fair-colored wide set eyes separated by a button nose. Despite his appearance, he was hearty, but humble and cautious.

Like his friend, Alvisio was an abandoned infant. Found in a basket on the doorstep at Combarbio in swaddling clothes, ill and suffering from malnutrition, he survived starvation thanks to the charitable clergy.

Raised in the guaranteed abundance of the church, the two boys showed little inclination to religious life. Ill-suited to tonsures, their presbyters entrusted them as famigli to the Pietrarubbia Court. Fraudolente, who knew how to read and write, became Squire to Corrado, and Alvisio a simple archer.

Wives, as was often the case, were no longer in the graces of their lovers; consequently they frequently found that the illegitimate sons were more to their pleasure than their own legitimate brothers.

Filippuccio, Corrado's stepbrother, was the bastard son of the elder Taddeo of Pietrarubbia. About twenty years old, strong and healthy even if not particularly tall, he had inherited his father's looks and rebellious nature, and from his mother, her stature, brown hair and light colored eyes.

In 1283, Forlì and Cesena surrendered to the Guelph troops, and the Ghibelline leader Guido of Montefeltro, cousin of the Pietrarubbias, was forced to take refuge in Urbino.

The relations between the Malatestis and the Pietrarubbias, both belonging to the victorious Guelphs due to ancient contrasts between the two bordering lineages, were turbulent.

At dusk on a day in October 1285, Filippuccio and Corrado, together with Giovani Bartolini, Raniero, Marino of Faggiola, Alvisio and Fraudolente awaited in the shadows.

After a long and rowdy day of feasting, they took position with their weapons under their cloaks in the lane behind the house of the Eremitanis of Cesena.

The man was walking quickly in the middle of the passage.

Marino was the first to come out of the shadows. He was the oldest, but the biggest and strongest, and the most feared among the group of assailants.

Malatesta stopped in his tracks and uncovered his head of disheveled red hair to show himself. The man standing in front of him was imposing. Anyone in his presence, even the most courageous and strongest warrior or thief would have run for his life.

Malatesta stared at him defiantly.

Marino bravely stared back in the eye of his enemy.

With a display of indifference, Malatesta set his hand on the mother-of-pearl handle of the baselard tied to his hip.

«What do you want? Let me pass!»

His tone was that of one used to commanding and of being obeyed.

The giant didn't move an inch. On the contrary, he sneered with a satisfied look on his face. It was an unusual pose.

Then Malatesta understood. Men waving daggers and long knives came forth out of the darkness.

Marino smiled, «Please, my Lord, go ahead!»

With a mocking bow, he took a step back. But the road was occupied by the others.

Turning and running would have meant his death. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door of the convent slightly open just beyond his enemies.

Unexpectedly, without giving them an instant to react, he pulled out his knife and pounced upon the smallest of his adversaries.

Unprepared, Filippuccio froze, astounded. The attack was impossible to avoid!

It wasn't Fraudolente's nature to play the hero, but this was his master's brother, and he was about to be stabbed. Without thinking twice, he threw himself between the man and the knife. The sharp blade went right through the surplice of mail, stabbing him in his side. The pain was blinding. He shouted out in fear of dying.

Filippuccio fell backwards.

The road filled with shouting, and the men hesitated for fear of harming their master. Malatesta remained cold-blooded in the face of danger, glancing at the door to the convent that was still ajar. Taking everyone by surprise, in one single jump, he slipped into the narrow opening and tried to shut them out.

Marino pushed the door as hard as he could and was able to thrust it open. Malatesta ran to the cloister while all of the enemies, with the exception of Fraudolente, chased the prey.

In just a few seconds, the conspirators found themselves surrounded by several severe and menacing friars.

Unhesitatingly, Marino dropped his weapons. Without the comfort of Fraudolente, Alvisio did the same, followed by the others. Before surrendering, Filippuccio cursed blasphemy.

Leaning against a column, Fraudolente held his side tightly with a hand.

«Cowards...» he whispered before fainting.

The attackers of the Magnifico Signor Malatesta de Verucolo were captured and tried before Giacomo of Tolentino and Benedetto of Spoleti, local judges of the province.

After a serious lecture, they were condemned to an enormous pecuniary punishment and were ordered to reimburse their illustrious victim. Corrado paid for all of the expenses.

It wouldn't have been worth having the Pope and the Guelph party foster a diatribe between the allies.

In any case, there was a winner: Fraudolente. Having saved Filippuccio from certain death, he was celebrated by the Pietrarubbia people as a hero, and from that moment he became Corrado's most trusted man.

Marino, on the other hand, came out rather badly. Someone had slandered him, claiming that he had spent too many years at the service of the ancient family council, and was considered too old at sixty to carry on as a soldier.

In the cloister of the convent at Cesena, he was the first to lay down his weapons in front of the friars. He had surrendered in order to avoid executing a sacrilegious act on sacred ground, as well as his uncertainty of having to sooner or later answer to God. It was not actually a cowardly act, rather a hesitation on his part due to caution, experience and age.

Fraudolente did not forgive him. How could the favored elder of Count Corrado succumb like a child in the presence of his father?

Fraudolente was expecting the Count at the Court. The horses quivered snorts of vapor in the cold morning air. Corrado grabbed the reins and took off at a gallop. Under his cloak, he was wearing a leather tunic and held his sword.

«Where is your friend?»

«My Lord, Alvisio is coughing and spitting. If you wish, I will bring him to you.»

«Coughing and spitting? Or is he still drunk from last night?»

The Count scrutinized the servant from head to toe and Fraudolente tried to hold his glare.

«My Lord...» he began by lowering his gaze.

«My Lord... I could give a damn!» Corrado interrupted, lowering his hood. «Let's go,» he ordered.

They climbed the ridge and took the road to Petra Fagnana. A cloud covered the peak of Carpegna, while the sun began to melt the ice on the cobblestones. Corrado preferred to travel on the grass along the road, and Fraudolente followed his lead.

He waited until the pasture of Monteboaggine to ride at his side. How can I tell him? It's now or never!

«My Lord, Marino is a coward!» he blurted out, not caring about the speech agreed upon with Filippuccio. «He is a coward and a traitor!» adding insult to injury.

Corrado stopped his horse on the frosty grass and uncovered his head to enjoy the first rays of the sun. Without uttering a word, he waited for Fraudolente to continue.

«It was his fault that your brother nearly died! He should be punished, or at the very least banished.»

«It's not for you to decide what happens to Marino, nor is it up to Filippo,» declared the Count.

Enough squabbling! The shepherds from Monteboaggine had dismissed the terms, and Antonio of Montecopiolo was waiting for him at the border to decide where to reposition them.

He went from scorn to indifference. «Let's get moving, my cousin expects me before lunch.»

They carried on, taking the road to Monteacuto.

Corrado invited him into the large hall of the castle. The Count was seated high up on an enormous chair like a throne. Marino was wearing his finest clothing.

«Marino, you have been a faithful servant for many years, in peace and in war. But the time has come for you to leave.»

Marino caught the Count's gaze and noted the sufferance of his decision.

«My Lord, you command, and I am your servant.»

He lowered his head and accepted the will of his master.

«You will return to your son in San Lorenzo.»

This is how he dismissed the Count.