The pleas of the monks echoed in the distance as they were hauled away. “To speak of the dust in another’s eye while ignoring the plank in your own,” Orgini said to no one in particular. “And they wonder why the new republic doesn’t embrace the church.”

“Come, we have work to do,” I said, leaving our new prisoners to their fates.

As rain poured down around us, we opened every window we could in a vain attempt to dissipate the thick humid air that clung to us. Throughout the night the war raged in the distance, and the bodies kept coming. By the break of dawn, all of my men were walking around with glazed eyes, trying not to trip over their own feet. “By the look of things, I would think that we are losing,” one of them grumbled.

“The battles are not over yet,” I corrected him, even though I shared his sentiment.

The morning sun had fully risen when José entered the sick tent, greeting the injured men who had not yet departed from this plane. I watched as he passed from bed to bed. He was blood-splattered and covered in mud. My insides clenched with fear. I couldn’t tell if he was putting on a brave front for the sake of morale.

I noticed the slight limp in his walk as he approached. “We won,” he whispered.

“You did? We have so many injured, I didn’t think—” José put a finger to my lips.

“They were vicious, but we proved to be the better force.”

I grabbed a rag and began to wipe the blood off him. “Are you wounded?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with.” His gaze passed over me to the injured that filled the sanctuary. “Take care of our men for now. I have business to attend to, but be ready to move. We are going to occupy a fortress.” His hand cupped my cheek. “Once we have settled in, we’ll have some time for ourselves.” He turned back to the men and clapped his hands. “Tonight we celebrate, for Rome is ours!”

Soldiers soon arrived to help my company move the patients and their things. Initially, I stayed close, supervising the course of action, but soon I became more of a hindrance than a help. I found my horse and made my way to the fortress.

I found José wiping his neck with a damp towel as he gave orders to the men around him, who were busy moving boxes onto carts.

“Tesoro mio, you have escaped!” he exclaimed with a broad smile. The blood that had covered his face was gone. He wore an old white shirt that hung loosely on his large frame. The bloody edge of a bandage poked out from underneath.

“José,” I scolded, pulling him to me and lifting up his shirt, “you are injured.”

“It’s merely a flesh wound.” His hands went to my belly. “Has he moved much lately?”

“Not really,” I said. “But I get a reassuring kick here and there. He lets me know he’s still with us.”