At last, our little party arrived at the double doors leading to the enclosed courtyard, and paused while the guards hurried forward to open them.
Beside me, Donna Esmeralda broke into loud sobs.
I chided her at once. Save them for when we are alone, I commanded. Walk with pride. We are not vanquished; we will return. And Naples will welcome us when we come.
She obeyed, wiping her eyes upon her ample sleeve.
The doors opened onto a scene of the most utter disarray. The courtyard was filled beyond its capacity with people: distant relatives and noble acquaintances who had managed to find sanctuary inside the castle walls when the fighting had first begun, and frantic servants and employees who had deserted their posts and now realized they were about to be left behind at the mercy of the rebels. These two groups had been herded together and were now guarded at sabre-point by a contingent of our soldiers, in order to keep them away from the carriages prepared for our escape.
There were other soldiers as well-some recently expired, dragged off into corners, and some wounded, moaning with pain. Those who were whole surrounded the four enclosed carriages of the sort used for local trips around the city; these vehicles were encircled first by men on horseback, two abreast, then by foot soldiers. Our men were dressed for battle, in Spanish helmets with blue and gold plumes, and engraved plate armour covering their chests and backs.
Every bit of greenery had been trampled, including the first flowers of spring. Even the once-fragrant air was now filled with smoke from burning palazzos and the acrid, sulphurous stench of artillery. The sound of human voices, lifted in a chorus of desperation and terror, drowned out all else save the cannons.
As the guards genuflected, I stepped with the utmost regal bearing into the madness.
Make way! they cried out. Make way for the Prince and Princess of Squillace!
A murmur traversed the crowd. Nearby soldiers turned and, with a sincerity and an admiration I did not understand, bowed low. Make way for Princess Sancha!
So large was the gathering and so confined our surroundings that men stood pressed shoulder against shoulder; yet never was I jostled, never once was my personage touched.
A captain emerged from the assembly. Your Highnesses, he said to me and my husband. His Majesty has requested that you accompany him.
The captain himself led us past two of the carriages. Uncle Federico was pushing his brother into the first, with the same ferocity he had used to wield the scimitar earlier that morning. The weapon was in a scabbard at his hip now; every man, royal or not, bore arms.
The foot soldiers surrounding the Kings carriage parted to permit us passage, and the horsemen flanking it reined their steeds back so that we could enter. As one of the guards proffered his arm so that I might climb up into the carriage, he said, as I touched him lightly: It is an honour, Your Highness. You are Naples greatest heroine.
Inside, I found Alfonso, Giovanna, and Ferrandino awaiting us. As dreadful as the situation certainly must have been for him, the young King managed a faint smile; he had overheard the guards statement. Come, sit beside me, Sancha. I will feel safer. As you have no doubt realized, you have earned quite a reputation for your bravery today.
In the face of such a statement, my composure wavered: I had not thought of my deed as an act of courage, but rather a disturbing symptom of my heritage. I lowered my eyes and stammered, as Jofre and Esmeralda entered the carriage behind me, It was mere accident that I was the only one with a weapon, Majesty. Had my brother been armed, he would have been first to defend you; and had you been armed yourself, we would have had no fear, given your skill as a swordsman. I took my seat beside the King, who was flanked on his other side by Giovanna. Across from her sat Alfonso, then Jofre, with Esmeralda last, opposite me.
Accident or not, because of you, we are here, Ferrandino countered, and we are grateful. You are my lucky talisman now, Sancha.
He fell silent as the carriage lurched; with the movement came the shouts of men, as lookouts from the towers above us relayed the circumstances outside the castle gates to the soldiers below. Apparently, our flight from the Castel Nuovo had been anticipated by enemy forces, for a large group of foot soldiers hurried to reinforce those already protecting our front.
Several guards ran to the gates and unbolted them; they swung open onto chaos.
Outside, our men fought traitors within their own ranks, as well as commoners and nobles. Once the gates opened, our reinforcements rushed into the fray with fearsome roars-and were soon engaged in swordplay so rapid my eyes could scarcely follow it.
Our carriage wheels rolled forward just past the archway, then settled with a creak to rest beneath the Triumphal Arch of Alfonso I. We were effectively trapped inside the unbarred courtyard while our protectors tried to hack their way through the enemy line at the gate.
I peered through the carriage window.
Do not look! Jofre warned, and Ferrandino echoed him.
Do not look! I am sorry you women must be exposed to the harshness of war.
But I was fascinated, just as I had been by Ferrantes museum of mummified corpses. I watched as an unarmoured Angevin nobleman, his fine brocade tunic damp with sweat and blood, his face soot-covered, wielded his sword mercilessly upon the infantryman farthest to my right. The noble was middle-aged, exquisitely trained; our soldier was young and terrified, and not long after being engaged, he stumbled slightly. It was enough for the older Angevin to move in for the kill, which he did, most efficiently: one stroke, two, and the young foot man turned, shrieking, to stare in horror at his right arm-which no longer bore a sword, or a hand, or an elbow. It was no more than a bleeding stump, and the lad fell back in a faint.
The noble parried his way past a second infantryman, then a third, by which time I could hear his victorious shout: Death to the House of Aragon! Death to Ferrandino!
His lips were still rounded in the final O when one of our horsemen-disconcertingly close to the window-leaned down with his sabre and neatly ran the width of his blade along the Angevins shoulders, severing the head from the body.
The head toppled down, bouncing off the horses flank, then beneath its hooves, which kicked it beneath our carriage; a swift gush of blood spewed from the decapitated corpses neck, then its brocade-clad shoulders fell back and away. Our wheels attempted to roll forward and were obstructed as if by a great stone; the driver lashed his steeds until they pulled with all their might. With a great upward lurch, the carriage jolted over the Angevin impediment. Blessedly, the cacophony of battle drowned out the sound.
Across from me, Donna Esmeralda began a tremulous, impassioned prayer to San Gennaro for our safety; white-faced, Giovanna seized Ferrandinos arm and held it fast.
More swords flashed silver in the sun. I saw a commoner engage our men, and get run through for his efforts; I saw another of our foot soldiers wounded, this time in the thigh. He fought as long as he could, then fell for want of blood. Though I could not see his end, given the height of the carriage and the soldiers that blocked my line of sight, I saw the rebel who raised his sword, again and again, and hacked at the fallen man.
After a time, we began to move in earnest, and made our way out onto the street. I turned for a final look at the Castel Nuovo. The gates were still open wide, even though the last of the royal carriages had passed; Angevins and commoners swarmed beneath the Triumphal Arch. In vain, I searched for helmets with plumes of gold and blue.
I craned my neck even more: behind us, the armoury was fully ablaze, its stone walls jagged and gaping. Farther beyond, greyish haze rose from fires dotting the landscape near Vesuvio. One would have thought the volcano had belched smoke and flame on the city, but this time, it bore innocent, silent witness to the destruction wrought by man.
Before I could take in more, Alfonso, seated next to Esmeralda, spoke firmly. Leave it, Sancha. There is no point
He was right, of course. I forced myself to turn round and face forward, to censor the thoughts that tried to rise, of the pitiful people we had left behind in the courtyard, of my childhood home, abandoned to the enemy.
We clattered down the cobblestone streets. Our path took us directly along the coast. To my left lay the placid bay; to my right stood the exterior gardens of the royal palace, now a battlefield, and past them, the Pizzofalcone, on whose slopes Aragonese palaces burned. Behind me lay the city.
Our progress was steady but far from swift, given the size of our military escort. But our destination, the ancient fortress of the Castel dellOvo, which guarded the harbour of Santa Lucia, loomed ever closer. Now that we had passed through the thick of the fighting, for the first time I considered not what our family was leaving behind, but where we were going. Ferrandino had called for a ship: had he a destination in mind?
Were I King of a war-torn nation whose treasury had been stripped bare, there was but one place I would go. The notion caused me some trepidation-but I was immediately distracted by a sight that aroused my indignance: two commoners were running away from the royal palace, carrying the rolled-up Turkish carpet that had graced the floor of my fathers office. Worse, a third man accompanied them, clutching in his arms the golden bust of Alfonso I from my grandfathers mantel.
My indignance did not last long. My ears filled with a booming, searing blast of wind: at the same instant, the carriage pitched sideways to the left, hurling me against Ferrandino and him against Giovanna; likewise, Esmeralda was thrown against my husband and brother. I cried out involuntarily at the shock, half-deafened, barely able to hear my own voice or the shrieks of the others.
Simultaneously, I was spattered with blood entering the window. For a breathtaking moment, we teetered on two wheels, propped against screaming men and horses. As all of us within the carriage clawed for purchase, soldiers rushed to push it: at last, it settled upright with a jolt.