Belladonna by Fiona Paul Page A

ever reach Florence.
    Finally, the carriage driver announced they were nearing their destination. Cass hung her head out the window, eager for a view of the city.
    But she didn’t see any buildings or people, not even way off on the horizon. All she saw were more fields, great grassy meadows that stretched out for miles, with rolling hills beyond them. She pulled her head back inside, intending to check the view from the other side of the compartment.
    Suddenly, the carriage lurched violently to the left, throwing her and Madalena against the edge of the window. Cass heard the shrill whinny of the horse, followed by swearing. Metal shrieked on metal. The carriage tilted at a strange angle, leaving the window pointing toward the ground.
    “Mada, are you all right?” Cass and Marco reached for Madalena simultaneously.
    Madalena nodded, rubbing her side and wincing. “What happened?”
    The driver’s head appeared in the window. “Is everyone all right?” he asked, red-faced. One at a time, he helped the girls crawl out through the small opening.
    Cass wriggled awkwardly through the window, tugging her skirts behind her. She landed on the dusty ground, where Siena immediately helped her to her feet. One of the front wheels of the carriage had hit something—the wooden axle was broken clear through.
    “What now?” Cass asked. The servants and carriage attendants were all milling around, muttering. They had broken down near a crossroads, but both streets were completely bare of traffic. Open meadows stretched around them, with tree-covered hills off in the distance.
    Marco cursed. “And only an hour outside of Florence.”
    The driver knelt beside the fallen axle. “We can’t move on until the damage is repaired.”
    Just then, Cass heard a howl from the trees. She turned toward the noise and saw a pack of wild dogs across the field—four of them in total, slinking around the periphery of the tall grass.
    “Marco,” she said, her throat tightening. “Dogs.”
    Marco turned. “They won’t bother us, Signorina Cassandra,” he said. “We’re too many. Dogs are cowards.”
    The largest dog lowered its haunches to the ground, and the others followed its lead. But Cass couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching her.
    Waiting.
    She stared back, not wanting to appear afraid, until the rhythmic drumming of hoofbeats drew her attention. A carriage was approaching from the direction of Florence. She watched the cloud of dust draw near, realizing it wasn’t a carriage after all. It was an old wooden cart pulled by a short, squat horse. Two men in leather doublets were perched on the back of the cart, their boots dangling almost to the ground. Another man straddled the horse. When he spotted the disabled carriage, he slowed the horse to a walk and pulled up near the side of the road. Cass headed toward them to see if they could offer assistance. Too late, she realized what the cart was carrying.
    Bodies.
    She stopped right in the middle of the road, hugging her arms around her waist. The scene brought her back to the night she had discovered Falco’s secret. But these men weren’t robbing graves. Apparently, they were going to dig them.
    The two men in leather doublets jumped off the back of the cart with their shovels and traipsed across the field. One of them pounded a wooden cross into the ground while the other began to dig. The third hovered close to the cart, glancing occasionally at the linen-wrapped bodies, as though he thought they might walk away.
    Cass wondered why they would be taken so far outside of the city to be buried. Curiosity outweighed her fear, and she started across the road again. Madalena followed her.
    “Be careful.” The man—the driver—positioned himself between the girls and the cart.
    Cass glanced down at his hands. He wore a plain silver band around his thumb. “Are they . . . infected?” A ripple of fear moved through her. Luca’s own father had contracted the plague