DELUGE

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Authors: Lisa T. Bergren

BOOK: DELUGE
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The River of Time Series

 

By Lisa T. Bergren

 

 

The River of Time Series

Waterfall

Cascade

Torrent

Bourne & Tributary

Deluge

 

 

DELUGE

 

Published by Bergren Creative Group, Inc.

Colorado Springs, CO, USA

 

All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the publisher.

 

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

 

© 2014 Lisa T. Bergren

 

Cover design: Gearbox Studios, David Carlson and Bergren Design

Cover images: iStockphoto, royalty free

 

Printed in the United States of America

 

 

 

 

For the River Tribe—this one’s purely for you, my friends.

Thanks for your passionate encouragement and enthusiasm.

 

Table of Contents

 

Part I

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight

Part II

Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three

Part III

Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five

Part IV

Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six

Epilogue

Historical Notes

Acknowledgments

PART I

 

 

PREPARATIONS

 

 

Late Autumn, 1345

CHAPTER ONE

 

~EVANGELIA~

 

 

“So, what say you,
carina
?” Luca asked me, calling me his
little love
. “Did you not promise long ago that if I returned to you from battle, we would speak of a certain blue dress?”

I laughed under my breath and gripped his arm more tightly, used to his constant teasing. But this specific subject always set me on edge.

We were walking to our favorite hill for an autumn picnic, a habit we’d gotten into since things had settled down on the northern front. For months now, Firenze had kept to their side of the newly reestablished border, apparently content to rest from battle, as we were. And even though the wind held the chill of deep November, still we came to this hill once a week to gain some privacy.

“M’lady?”

I glanced up at him as we walked, for the first time seeing the intent expression in his green eyes, noting his tone of seriousness. He usually dropped the marriage subject when I refused to engage. He was sweet and sensitive like that. But today the muscles in his jaw tensed, like they did when addressing his men or talking over the day’s plans with Marcello. Or when he was thinking about kissing me…

“Oh, Luca. We’ve addressed this. I said we’d
speak of it
,” I said, looking down to the calf-high grasses, brown and dry as autumn settled in to stay. “Make plans. Dream of that beautiful day.”

“Come now, love. We both know you promised more than that.”

I glanced up at him and then quickly away. “Luca, there is none but you in my heart. But the idea of…” I swallowed hard, feeling the familiar heat of a blush on my cheek. “The idea of…carrying a child, as Gabi is now…” I shook my head. “’Tis enough to anticipate one babe in the face of an uncertain future. We need not tempt God with sending us another.”

He shrugged my hand loose, took several quick, long strides ahead to then turn and face me. He held up one hand. I came to a stop.

“I do not understand,” he said, squinting at me. “How does Marcello and Gabriella’s joy keep us from our own?
Why
would it?”

I brushed past him and finished our climb to the top of the hill, then flung out the blanket I’d carried, trying to gather my thoughts, my argument. He was right behind me. I sat down and looked up at him, waiting for him to join me. But he stood there with his hands on his hips, clearly wanting an answer.

“Consider it, Luca. There is already enough risk happening in our family,” I said. “Remember? With what is to
come?”

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, flung himself down on the blanket beside me, and rolled onto his back. He shook his head, then shifted to his side, taking my hand in his.

“So we are to be held captive by what is to come, too? Live in fear of what
might
be rather than rejoice in what we’ve been given for certain? Should we not embrace these years of freedom before it’s upon us?”

I gave him a small smile. I loved him. I did. But the thought of being his wife…being intimate with him…perhaps becoming pregnant as my sister had…

Then facing the coming plague…

Not only worried about my family, Luca, Marcello, my future niece or nephew, but my own babe as well…

I shook my head and stood up, pacing back and forth, wringing my hands. “I can’t, Luca. Not yet. Not until we are through it. Past it.”

He rose slowly, his face set in a look of confusion. I let him approach and gently take my arms, and looked up into the face I loved so well.

“Saints above, Lia, what are you saying? That we cannot wed for…
years
? This illness—you have suggested it would take some time to be through with us, yes?”

I swallowed hard. Would he wait for me that long?

Was I risking…us?

“Don’t you see? The plague…Luca, it will take a third—even half—of every city and town and castello. Mayhap more.”

His frown deepened, as did the pressure from his fingers. “Don’t you see? That means two-thirds, or half, will
survive
.” His eyebrows lifted and curled together at the top in frustration. “And aren’t your parents doing everything possible to make certain we are in that portion?”

“What does it matter if we put off our betrothal for a few more years?” I asked, breaking away from him, taking a step back. “We’ve only been together a few years and—”

“For you,” he said, cutting me off, making a slicing motion with his hand. He saw my sick expression and groaned, clenched his hand and looked to the sky, then back to me. He took my hands in his, and they felt warm and welcome around my own.

“Evangelia,” he breathed, leaning down to rest his forehead against mine. “You’ve had my heart since the beginning. But it does not matter,” he said, such pain and angst in his tone that it made me want to cry in earnest. “Because whether I’d been yours for a day or a decade, I’d feel it as an eternity. All I want,” he said, lifting a hand to stroke my cheek and look into my eyes, “is to be your husband, and you, my wife. ’Tis all I want,” he repeated, so faintly I could barely make out the words. “Please,” he said, sinking to one knee, my hands in his. “Will you not trust our future to the hands of God? Will you not be my bride? Now, rather than later?”

My heart pulled at me, begged me to say yes. To nod and watch him rise to his feet, face alight. To feel him lift me in his arms and laugh in my ear.

But I couldn’t.

I’d risked everything to be here, to stay here, with my family. With him! Wasn’t it enough? For now?

I just couldn’t put anything else on the line. Not even for Luca.

“’Tis only a few more years,” I whispered, begging him with my eyes. “Mayhap three or four? That’s all I need. The worst of what is to come should be past us by then.”

He let out a sound of exasperation, rose on leaden feet and paced away from me again, his hands in fists at his side. He stood there for a minute, maybe two, before I dared to come up beside him, wrapping my hands around his arm and resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Evangelia. You realize that one of us could die in a hundred different ways even before this plague is upon us? In battle? From another illness? Saints, Lia, one of us could fall down the well while fetching water and break our neck. We cannot live in fear. We
cannot
.”

“I understand,” I muttered, feeling miserable and guilty. “But this is one risk that we don’t have to take. Something we can control. What if we both perish? We can still love each other without the risk of bearing a child who might end up an orphan.”

I could feel the rapid beat of his pulse. “It’s a false belief,” he said in a measured way. “We control nothing. Our lives, our futures are in the hands of God, not our own.”

I sighed heavily. “I guess we must agree to disagree.”

He turned and faced me again, his expression grim. “What sort of nonsensical phrase from the future is
that?”

I shrugged, feeling the heat of a blush on my face. “’Tis only something we say when we cannot come to an agreement.”

“Well, that is not how it is done here. Now. In this place that you’ve
said
is your own. Here, we discuss until we are in agreement, one way or another.”

He was clearly angry, gesticulating with agitated moves. I shifted uncomfortably. He hardly ever was frustrated with me.

He cocked his head and folded his arms. “Tell me the truth, Evangelia. Do you still think about returning? Leaving this and all that threatens us behind? Leaving me?” The last two words were quieter, laced with pain.

I felt heat on my neck and cheeks anew. Until he’d said the words, I hadn’t really allowed myself to fully consider it. But yes, it was true. Ever since Gabi had figured out that she was pregnant, I’d thought of the tomb, the time portal, as our escape route if the worst happened. At least for some of us…

“Evangelia,” he whispered.

I put my hands to my temples, massaging away the sudden throb. “Mayhap,” I whispered back. “If there was no other option. Mayhap I’d turn to the tunnel.”

He paused for a long moment, then gently put his index knuckle under my chin and lifted it. “Say that again,” he said grimly, looking into my eyes.

“If there was no other option,” I said again, a bit louder. Feeling the misery. Desperately wanting him to understand, to support me.

It was as if I’d hit him. His green eyes looked into mine, back and forth, before he sucked in his breath. I actually saw tears in his eyes. I’d told him, promised, pledged that I wanted to stay. That my life was here, with my family…with him. But now I’d admitted I kept an exit plan in the back of my mind…

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