Isabella meets the stranger.

Isabella shivered and clutched the blanket tighter around herself. The sole candle in the room had flickered and died when the stranger rushed over to the small window. In that instant she knew she'd made a serious mistake. The local men were on their way through the forest, but this one was on his guard. There was no light for them to aim now. Indeed the whole setup had been risky. She should have known, she thought. This one wasn't like all the others. He had a sinister way about him, a dodgy sort of chap. Sounded like he was from further east, when he spoke at all. He didn't have a farmer's hands, either, they were too slender and quick. But he had seemed weary, and eager for refreshment of all sorts. He looked to have money, and Isabella was only too happy to play him along. She needed the help of the men in the village. She would get her share, once Angelo the butcher greased the palms of certain local officials. Angelo could gut a man in seconds. Isabella knew this, she had seen it as a child. He had killed her gypsy father, when he made the foolish mistake of returning to the village. She bore no grudge, he had always taken care of her and her mother. Now Angelo was advancing through the trees alongside Bernardo the farmhand and Luca from the inn.

How the stranger knew they were there shocked her, although her attention had been quite distant. Her cabin was a little way from the village, secluded in some trees, with a small paddock on one side, holding a donkey and two goats. The stranger had retrieved his cloak, and extracted from within a concealed pocket a velvet roll, which he unrolled to reveal a series of short knives. He unlatched the door quietly, then turned violently towards Isabella.

"You must now help me. Or else you will follow your friends. You must make the sounds of making love. They must not suspect a thing." This change in demeanour from the quiet traveller at the inn shocked her into compliance. While she moaned quietly in the corner, mostly to herself, the stranger took up a position near the semi-open door. He stared patiently into the darkness, and presently noticed a movement near the edge of the trees. He knew what to expect, Giovanni Vertese (for indeed it was he!) as he had pulled similar stunts all his life, from Venice and since leaving there, never leaving an eye-witness who could send help hunt him down. Until recently. His sojourn in Savoy was only a temporary stop on his way to France, to evade capture by the authorities, who wanted to hang him as a murderer from Trento to Torino, and had but one old hag's word as evidence. He had avoided the major routes, and stopped in this isolated village to rest and eat. Damned if a rustic peasant with a meathook would be his end. Gio saw his moment, and let loose one of his small knives with deadly accuracy. A stifled gurgle and he heard, rather than saw, the large man from the inn fall into a bush.

The lack of moonlight made it easier for both sides, but Giovanni had the advantage of being indoors. He rounded on Isabella. "Shut your mouth now, gypsy girl. Tell me. How many are out there?" She looked back at him, terrified yet growing angry. "At least five, you filthy son of a Turk. You will never leave here alive." Giovanni's face split into a grin, accentuated by his missing teeth and he leered at her. "Five you say? This should be fun." At that point he whipped the door open, as he heard the running footsteps of the butcher and farmhand. The farmboy was stopped short by a cane to his windpipe and shortly afterwards lay on the floor with blood pumping from the main artery in his leg while he gazed in wonder at the silver knife which had sprouted from the wound. The butcher was a different matter. He had remained outside and out of view, evidently intending to launch a surprise attack from somewhere. Isabella looked at poor Bernardo. He was only a kid, she thought. She'd helped him out from time to time, as he had her, and it was rather sad to see him go this way. She'd seen men die before, though. Armies had marched through Savoy for years, and where there are armies, there were local people willing to "help out". As she was lost in her thoughts, however, she became aware that the wailing in the room was not solely Bernardo's, but also her own. The stranger turned from the window, and drew a longer blade. He quickly put poor Bernardo far beyond the pale. Isabella screamed and ran to the door. This was not how it was supposed to happen. As she ran to the door, she saw Angelo to one side, underneath a window, and started towards him. He reached up to grab her by the hand, and as he did so, his face froze. "Angelo. Angelo, what is it?" But it was too late. She saw the hilt of a large dagger protruding from between his neck and shoulder blades. Looking upward, she saw the stranger hidden in the eaves. She turned and began to run, expecting to feel a knife between her shoulders at any moment. But there was nothing. Until a moment later, she felt the stranger scoop her up over his shoulder and he ran, jingling like a merchant of Genoa, through the small strip of trees to the inn nearby where his horse was stabled. He handed her roughly to the ground, and quickly saddled up. He looked at her with his unflinching green gaze and said
"You're coming with me to France"