Petra Rubea

JULY 1289

JULY 1289

The troops of Corrado of Pietrarubbia were about to occupy Urbino.

Around the fire at the encampment, after gorging themselves on lamb watered down with sour wine, Fraudolente and Alvisio were playing dice for the next spoils of war.

As usual, Fraudolente won.

The blacksmith, Raniero, in his early twenties, lived with his wife Albina in a tiny hovel of a village.

There was no defense that could have sustained an attack by an enemy. Hidden on a summit covered by bushes, the village was eluded by raids. The other inhabitants, about twenty people, had fled to Urbino.

Raniero's father, who died during the freezing winter of 1287, had taught his son that the villas were safer than the city.

«Once inside the walls of the city, no one gets out! Here, on the other hand, you can always escape. And they should know that you are here...»

Having inherited his craft and workshop, Raniero began searching for a wife. He didn't go very far, just two doors down. Cousin Albina, tall, brunette and shapely, had doe eyes, and if truth be told, a protruding chin.

Raniero, with a profession, an in-house workshop and a small farm, was a good catch and Albina's father, with three unmarried daughters, was happy to give him her hand in marriage.

In just a couple of months, the bride was already expecting an heir.

Mindful of his father's advice, even with the threat of surrounding enemies, Raniero stayed in the village.

On that beautiful July morning, after having slept longer than usual, he was setting up for work. His was a difficult job. It normally took a few months to make a sword. For one as skilled as him though, it only required a month. And given the times, orders were abundant.

Suffocating from the heat of the forge, the young man stood at the threshold to get a breath of fresh air. He saw his wife at the farmyard drawing water from the well and lifted his hand in a wave.

The arrow arrived with a hiss, and pierced his dark apron.

Struck in the heart, Raniero fell backward in silence.

She screamed with all the breath in her body and ran across the courtyard. Her husband lay still, so she had to straddle over his body to get in. Kneeling, she shrieked his name and shook him in vain. There was nothing left to do. She hugged his head and covered it with kisses and began to sob desperately.

«There is my prey!»

The virile voice was crass and violent.

She had no time to react. Fraudolente entered the workshop, pulled her by her hair and forced her to stand up.

Albina tried, to no avail, to turn around and swing her arms behind her.

«Eh, so this is how it will be? You want to struggle?» sneered the unknown man and, with his free hand, brutally punched her in the back, taking her breath away.

Fraudolente looked around. Holding her by the hair, he shoved her toward the plank in front of the forge, pushing her onto it, crushing her face on the worn wood. He lifted the long skirt, stripped her underclothes and penetrated her.

Albina flailed desperately until she felt a thin sharp awl between her fingers. She grasped the handle with her right hand. It was useless to try to rebel. She was forced to endure helplessly.

At the door, Alvisio was waiting his turn. Damn! Last night his accomplice had won at dice, and the pact was that he would get the young thing first.

He could at least hurry up…

Pulling out, Fraudolente loosened his hold on Albina's head for a second. The girl rolled over onto her back, and with a surge, wounded him. The awl slashed the soldier's cheek who, recoiling with his face in his hands, cried out, «Damned b***h!»

Now Albina was standing up in front of her enemies.

With one hand, Alvisio grabbed her wrist to keep her from stabbing and with the other, he pulled out a knife. While looking at her in the eyes, he sank it into her abdomen over and over.

For an instant, Albina was able to stand. When she dropped with a groan next to her husband, Alvisio finished with a stab in her back, exclaiming, «Idiot! You made me kill her. I can't hump a dead girl!»

«You wouldn't have been able to anyway!» snarled Fraudolente. Then, in pain, he fell silent.