at his mouth.
“That man there!” I put a hand on the warden’s shoulder to stop him. “He needs help.”
My guide glances down. “That man needs nothing. He’s spoilt with attention. He’ll be well again soon enough.” I am forced to continue, as the prisoner’s distressed cries fill the air and a jerk of his foot sends a gruel bowl spinning.
I almost wish I’d taken the man’s handkerchief; the heat and the stench are overwhelming. Bile rises in my throat and I think I’m about to be sick. The sensation passes. I wipe the sweat from my face and carry on climbing higher beneath the lead roof that gives the prison its name, the metal taking the heat of the day and doubling it. I hardly dare think about what I’ll find when we reach Roberto.
Finally, we stop climbing. The man jerks his chin towards a cell in a far corner and departs back down the stairs. “A few moments only,” he snarls.
I walk across the floorboards, the gray roof low over my head. The heat is unbearable now. As I come to stand before the cell, I see a shape slumped against the back wall. At first I think it is an abandoned sack, but then there’s a movement and the flicker of white eyes.
“Roberto?” I whisper, throwing myself forward to grasp the bars of the cell.
A head rises and a smile spreads across my love’s face. He gets to his feet, moving stiffly, and as he hobbles across the cell towards me I can see that every movement causes him pain. He leans to one side as though his ribs have been bruised.
“What are you doing here? How …?”
I smile. “Your mother helped. She says to tell you that she loves you very much.”
His face creases with a sort of despair, but then he gathers himself and wipes a hand over his brow. When he drops his hand again, he is grinning bravely.
“What happened?” I ask, reaching through the bars to lift his tunic. Quickly but gently, he bats me away. His hair hangs in dank locks around his face, and a purple bruise stains his left cheekbone. The skin has split, and blood is crusted in the wound.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Oh, my darling.” He stretches his arms through the bars and draws me to him. I try not to flinch at the smell of him, and I press my lips against his. They are hot with fever.
“Tell me what happened,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder. “How did that woman …”
Roberto shoves a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he says, moving away from me. “I’ve gone over it so many times in my own head, trying to remember. I felt ill at the ball … started to make my way home. I can’t remember anything after that. The next thing I know you were banging on the door and that woman was bathed in blood on my floor! You know the accusations aren’t true, don’t you, Laura? Tell me you know that!”
He’s been pacing his cell, and now he turns to me. I hate to admit it, but the look on his face scares me. It’s furious, desperate. But is there a hint of guilt?
“Of course I know that. But if I’m to help, I have to ask. How did it come to this, Roberto?”
“I’ll tell you how!” he almost shouts. “Someone set me up. Those watchmen, turning up when they did. Coincidence? Only in a fool’s head! The whole thing was planned.”
Roberto must be right. Those men who stormed his home were only seconds behind me.
A hand lands heavily on my shoulder. “I said a few moments only,” says the warden, his breath hot against my ear. I find my grip tightening on the bars of the cell.
“Just a minute more won’t hurt,” I say, trying to keep my voice light—flirtatious even. The hand moves to grip my arm, and suddenly I am yanked round and flung back against a wall. Roberto calls out, “Leave her alone!” but the warden has brought his face close to mine, and I can see the spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth.
“Now do as I say,” the warden growls. He begins to drag me down the stairs, and it is all I can do not to trip over my skirts and go hurtling to my death.
“I’ll do everything I can for you!” I call back.
“No!” Roberto’s voice is hoarse with panic. “Don’t get