†
D’ata paused to scan the horizon behind them. He squinted, almost sure he'd seen someone, but when nothing showed itself, he resigned himself to the notion that they were momentarily safe.
They’d finally reached the river and had been following it for about two hours, looking for a place to cross. Evening was approaching, chilly and gray. Julianne was fatigued, dozing intermittently as she sat the horse alone.
He glanced back frequently to check on her. Seeing her head occasionally bob, it worried him that she might tumble from the animal. He knew they must soon stop to rest and eat. She'd been stubborn, insisting they press on. He loved this about her—her fierce determination—but he also feared for her as their exodus had been grueling. D’ata felt the fatigue between his own shoulder blades and knew that Julianne must be close to exhaustion. She refused to acknowledge this, her strong contention that she was “fine” dismissing his concerns.
They’d traveled for nearly two weeks now, staying away from human contact. They slept in the forests, laying on the saddle blanket, holding each other as they snatched sleep whenever they could. These were moments of terrible and wonderful re-acquaintance. They clutched at each other, warmed by their love and their passion, fueled by their fear and unwavering resolve. They’d done it! Escaped! Now all they needed to do was make safe passage to their new life…together!
It was cold, and their food rations were scant. D’ata was occasionally able to barter work for food, and when desperate, he would steal. Yesterday, he’d taken some meat and grain from a smokehouse alongside a pig farm, but even that was now nearly gone. Most of it he gave to Julianne, saving only enough for himself to keep his legs moving.
None of this mattered, though. It was a beautiful thing to behold—the two of them reunited. The love they held for each other was a pure and holy thing, untarnished by hatred or the constraints of a broken ideology. They held no bitterness toward their families or the way the world refused to accept them. Even as they walked on, D’ata halted the horse, taking the time to remove from their path a tortoise lest the horse step on it. Such was their love for each other—kind, compassionate, and blissfully happy.
Across the river was the Territory of Naples. It was there that they planned their escape. Eventually, they wished to head south to more temperate lands—Sicily, perhaps, and the warm waters off Gaeta. Then they might secure a tiny slice of paradise somewhere, somehow, and live isolated from the rest of the world. Living in obscurity would mean they could raise their baby and be together.
They talked of how they would grow old together and watch time create a mockery of their bodies, all the while their love deepening into something more beautiful than any tangible thing on earth. This appealed immensely to them both, and they asked the help of no one, only that the world might ignore them and allow them their happy oblivion.
D’ata sighed as a happy smile tugged at his young face. They had essentially nothing to their names other than the horse and the clothes they wore. Except for the concern of their possible capture, he’d never experienced such happiness. It was then, as he glanced up and back at Julianne, that he saw the horses and riders on the horizon.
“Julianne, wake up, my love—quick now.” He tried to sound calm. Julianne jerked awake as D’ata shook her knee gently.
He was not certain they'd been seen, but it would not be long before the riders would overcome them. Across the river, the forest was thick and flush to the bank. If they could somehow find a way across, chances were good they could hide in the woods. It would be harder for the men to track them in the dense foliage. They could even abandon the horse and continue on foot if it got too thick. D’ata did not see dogs and thought that might be in their favor.
“What is it, my love?” Julianne reached for him.
“No—stay on the horse.” He urgently handed her the reins. “They’ve come for us.”
“What? No!” Julianne scanned the horizon for the awful threat. “I don’t see anything!”
“They’re there; I saw them,” he whispered.
“What will we do?” Her eyes brimmed immediately with tears. “I will not be separated from you again! I won’t, D’ata! Do you hear me? I won’t!”
“We won’t; I won’t allow it. Try not to worry. We’ll get away, but you must listen to me.” He tried to maintain calm for her, but there was a dreadful urgency to him.
She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, her jaw set in determination. “Tell me what to do.”
“We must cross the river.” Stepping upon a fallen tree, D’ata slid onto the horse behind Julianne. He urged the gelding along at a better clip.
“Oh, D’ata, not so fast; it makes the baby shake so!”
He reached around her to try to support the weight for her but continued to push the horse faster. He knew their chances were not good. If they were caught, Julianne would be outcast forever, and he would be sent away, possibly for execution by the church.
Half an hour later, the river still roiled, and they still had no access. The men drew closer. D’ata could hear their voices in the distance, and now he feared that they’d been seen.
“D’ata, I don’t know how well I can swim. I have never been a very good swimmer, and my gowns—”
“No, perhaps you are not, but the horse is. You just have to hold on to him.” He looked behind again as he spoke.
“But what of you? Can he carry both of us?”
“Don’t worry about me. I am a strong swimmer.” He tried to smile. “I’ll make it fine and catch up with you in the forest.”
“How will you know where I am?” Tears threatened again, and she was obviously frustrated as she swept them aside in an effort to be brave. “What if we are separated? I can’t live with that!”
“Trust God, my love. I found you once, and I will find you again. I will know where and how.” He hugged her briefly—desperately—afraid to let go. “They won’t chase us into Naples. If we are separated, go there. We just have to cross the river.” He lacked faith in his own argument.
Julianne hung her head, her words coming out as a whisper, “And if God disapproves?” The tears now fell from her cheek onto his hand.
He turned her face gently toward him. “Then, there is no God.” D’ata kissed her cheek tenderly, his lips warm against the cold of her tear streaked skin. Glancing back one more time, he urged, “Now we must cross.”
He slid from the animal’s back and handed her the reins, then led the animal to the water’s edge. The river was cold and swollen from the autumn rains. It was deeper and wider now but not so fast. This was the best place to cross. The water was a murky brown, and as D’ata stepped into it, he could not see the bottom, even in the shallows.
“If you fall off or the horse panics, slide off his back and grab hold of his tail. He will tow you across just fine.”
“And you?” Her quivering voice betrayed her worry.
He glanced up urgently as he peeled out of his jacket and shirt. Trying to downplay her concern, he attempted to put forth his best sense of security. “I swim like a fish, my love. Do not worry for me.”
She tried to display confidence as well. “D’ata…no matter what happens…” She looked away. “I am not sorry. Do you hear? I’m not sorry for any of what has happened—what we have.”
“Don’t talk like that! We’ll be fine!” His did not mention his other fear—the cold. The water’s temperature would pull the warmth from them almost immediately. They would have to get somewhere safe as fast as possible and build a fire. “Now hurry, my little sea maiden. Across with you.”
D’ata refused to acknowledge his greatest concern, that they would make the swim just fine only to be captured on the other side. He knew the gelding was strong and would carry Julianne easily across, but he could hear the men closing in on them. His intent, if it came down to it, was to allow his own capture and give Julianne the chance to escape. If he survived, he would find her again—search for her in Naples.
As the horse first entered the river, it pawed nervously at the water. Julianne shivered as the frothy spray drenched her legs. D’ata calmly urged the animal deeper into the water. “Get on there fellow—there’s a good boy.”
It was a steady beast and calmed at the human’s voice, obediently working its way deeper into the river, the water lapping up its legs and onto its belly.
“Hold tight, my love, but let his head free once he loses footing and begins to swim. Grab onto his mane, and let your body be towed freely,” he encouraged Julianne. “And when you make the other side, do not wait for me. Get away, into the forest as fast as you can.”
“But—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Don’t wait for me. Do you understand?”
* * *
Julianne nodded, bravely urging the horse deeper into the swirling, muddy water—determined to make the other side. Her breath caught in her throat as the cold water advanced, slapping up against her legs. Her skirts billowed up around her with trapped air, and she pushed at them to sink them back into the water. The animal hesitated and tried to turn back. D’ata, at the head of the animal, now chest deep in the water himself, gently coaxed the horse even deeper until finally, he released the bridle.
The horse shook its head but stepped off into the deeper water, lifting its nose, teeth bared as its eyes rolled wide. With one tremendous lunge, it lurched into the swirling depths, pawed viciously at the current, and settled quickly into a natural cadence of swimming.
Julianne almost tumbled from the animal’s back but clutched at the mane and held on tight, righting herself. She freed the reins, giving the animal its head, for it seemed immediately intent on reaching the other side and sure footing. As the body of the animal sank below the water’s surface, she held fiercely to its mane, and the horse towed her easily, its stride strong and determined. She was amazed at how effortlessly the animal swam, and she spoke calmly, encouraging the gelding along. Glancing back, Julianne saw D’ata swimming more slowly behind them, being washed further down the river as he swam. He was strong but not nearly as powerful as the horse.
Just then came two horsemen. They charged over a grassy knoll and galloped down a steep slope and out across a small shelf of earth. Seemingly unconcerned, they plunged into the river at a treacherous part with small rapids. Amazingly, both riders came out in tact, and one made directly for D’ata—the other for Julianne.
She urged the horse on. “Come on, fellow; there’s a good boy.” She clucked softly, and the horse’s ears quivered, satisfied with the encouragement, concentrating on its task. It grunted as it swam, blowing froth from its nostrils as it drew deep breaths. For the first time, she believed they would make the other side.
Further down the river, one horseman fast approached D’ata. From the corner of her eye, Julianne saw the altercation, saw the water turn white as the horse submerged and then came thrashing to the surface. For a moment, she didn’t see D’ata at all, but then her heart leapt as she saw the horse swimming across with D’ata holding firmly to its tail. The attacker was struggling to swim back to the other shore. She wanted to call out and cheer but turned her attention back to the task of making it across herself.
Julianne hadn’t seen the other horseman—the one approaching so rapidly from her right. Swimming at a downstream angle and with the momentum of the current, the man caught up with her fairly easily. They were better than half way across when the man reached her, snatching for the animal’s reins.
“Don’t! You’ll make him afraid!” she screamed and slapped at the man, but he continued to grasp for the animal.
Finally, the man foolishly abandoned his own mount, pitching himself forward, clutching for the bridle of Julianne’s horse. This was a grave mistake for as he held tight, he plunged the gelding’s head and nose below the surface of the water.
Terrified, the horse panicked, breached, and turned belly up. Its forelegs thrashed violently at air and water, creating a frothing, foaming torrent of animal and river…with Julianne trapped beneath.
* * *
From the distance, D’ata watched in horror as the foolhardy man sabotaged Julianne’s safe passage. He saw her plunged beneath the surface as the panic-stricken animal arced and thrust backwards, over and on top of her. The water became a muddy foaming cyclone as the horse savagely flailed, legs thrashing in an effort to right and rid itself of the foolish human that hung from its bridle.
Julianne was submerged, nowhere to be seen.
“No!” D’ata yelled and released the tail of his own horse.
He swam furiously toward the catastrophe, his eyes searching for Julianne. It seemed an eternity before he neared where she’d gone under the water. He caught from the corner of his eye the pale blue swirl of her skirts and saw a thin, white hand reach up from the water as she remained beneath the murky, swirling current. He swam violently, his lungs bursting, and searched desperately for her, turning around in place as he treaded water. The horse was again swimming for the other side, the assailant now lagging behind.
Just then, D’ata felt something brush against his hand. He dove, found nothing, and quickly dove again, grasping at empty water, clawing into the current until he felt cloth. He kicked hard, pulling the body to the surface. Julianne was limp, her face pale. “Hold on, my love, hold on! I have you now. We’ll be all right.” He frantically fought the current.
D’ata swam until his heart nearly burst, towing Julianne to the shore. At long last, his feet made solid ground, and he lunged for the bank with Julianne in his arms. He staggered, collapsed on the river’s edge, and pulled Julianne to his chest, turning her pale, lovely face toward his…