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Mari

Friday, April 27, 1821

T he vessel arrived, at last, in the twilight hours of Friday, April 27.

Mari was on watch with Emilia and Pippa. They had been awake all night, practicing the stanzas of the incantesimo vortice . Their aim was not to draw a deep, slow current from the sea but rather something fast and impossibly turbulent—something unsurvivable—in a small area of the ocean.

The women could not err, not with so much at stake.

Trying to stay alert, Mari had just taken a half-hearted glance through the brass eyepiece of a scope that had once belonged to her mother. Her eyelids were heavy, and as she rubbed at them, her vision blurred.

She could not quite believe it, then, when she spotted the hazy shape of a vessel in the distance, cloaked in sea mist.

She handed the instrument to Pippa, then she heard someone crawling down the steep, shrubby hillside outside the cave—Ami and Paola, arriving for their shift.

Mari pointed at the silhouette in the distance. “Look,” she said to the women.

As the others peered out at the sea, Ami discreetly reached into her bag and withdrew a letter, tucking it into Mari’s hand.

Mari frowned, confused for a moment. Yet the moment she spotted the handwriting on the envelope, her stomach lurched. A letter from Holmes.

While the four others took turns looking through the eyepiece, Mari stepped outside the cave and tore open the envelope, reading it by the light of her lantern. It was dated Sunday, April 22.

The missive was short, his handwriting sloppy.

I heard what happened , the letter began. How you killed Massimo. How you escaped the Lupo.

Mari’s brows knit together in confusion. How could Holmes, seabound aboard the Aquila north of Rome, have possibly heard this news?

You must flee the village , the letter went on. Matteo and his men intend to find you and seize you.

This Mari already knew. If all went as planned, Matteo would never have the chance.

But what Holmes revealed next horrified her.

Two days ago, they shifted our itinerary, and we began a southward route. As I write this, we are very near Naples. It is my brig—the Aquila —that has been assigned to make its way, with haste, to Positano. Matteo is on board.

If you have not left already, you must leave the moment you get this letter. If you cannot, then at the very least keep vigilant: I will paint a circle of tar very near the bow, portside, on the hull’s yellow band. From afar, it will resemble a porthole. Remember, we are two-masted. No guns.

When you are safe, send a letter to Ami, telling her where I can find you.

Please keep well, my dearest.

***

With all my love,

Your Holmes

Mari placed her hand against her chest. He’d written this five days ago, near Naples. They should have arrived by now, but the storm would have held them back.

Slowly, Mari tucked the letter into the small bag slung across her chest and looked out at the horizon, the shadow of the brig growing infinitesimally closer.

This could not be real.

This could not be true.

“Mari,” Ami said, her voice grave. “Mari, the vessel is flying the Mazza flag.”

Her knees grew weak. She glanced out—the sea mist had begun to lift—and she could make out the dual masts of the brig, its lack of cannons.

And—the yellow band of paint. From so far away, she could not yet make out a painted circle of tar. Still, she sensed this could only be the Aquila . With Matteo onboard. With Holmes onboard.

And to think this had all been Mari’s idea.

“It’s them,” Paola said, her face flushed. She eyed Mari suspiciously—had she seen Ami pass her a letter?—then pointed. “Let’s go down to the water.”

“Are we sure about their heading? They’re coming this way?” Pippa asked.

If the brig were headed south, they would be gazing now at the side of the vessel, and the sails would look like oyster shells, shallow arcs as they caught the wind. But these sails were spread high and wide, rectangles seizing almost the full width of the vessel, which meant it was headed—

“Yes,” Paola said. “It is coming right for us.” She lifted her cimaruta to her lips, giving it a light kiss.

“It’s a long way off yet,” Mari managed. She crossed her arms, so better to hide her trembling hands. The brig was still well beyond the Li Galli archipelago and moving quite slowly. She estimated it would be an hour at least before it passed the islets.

“There are five of us,” Paola said suddenly. “We had planned for only three. Think of it. How quickly we will take it down.”

Mari’s mind could not comprehend what she was seeing, what she’d just learned. As the women gathered their things, readying to leave the cave, her stomach sank with dread.

What , she wondered, am I to do now?