Revved The Driven World 1st Edition

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 Revved
A Driven World Novel

A.M. Mahler
 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations,
places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
© 2020 KB WORLDS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express
written permission of the publisher.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book
may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Published by KB Worlds LLC.
Cover Design by: Tugboat Designs, LLC
Formatting by: Fox Chase Books, LLC
Published in the United States of America
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the Driven World!
I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Revved is a book based
on the world I created in my New York Times bestselling Driven
Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various
authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing
you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to
revisit the characters you love.
This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I
allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in
some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the
story. All praise can be directed their way.

I truly hope you enjoy Revved. If you’re interested in finding more

authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit
www.kbworlds.com.
Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.
Happy Reading,

K. Bromberg
 This book is dedicated to all of us
that race the Driven world.
Settle in, enjoy the story, and I’ll see you
at the finish line.
 Simon

I
pressed my back against the wall and willed my body to still.
Bringing up my gun, I took a deep breath and let it slowly
back out. I had been preparing for this day for months.
Trained and trained until the gun became an extension of my arm. I
would not falter. I would prevail. I had to. I chose a small gun
instead of a rifle to provide me with a more intimate kill shot and
craved the kill like my next breath. When I got so blood thirsty, I
didn’t know. It was a transformation so gradual I barely noticed it
happening. Being a lover and not a fighter, battles were never my
strong suit. But when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun,
things in a man change. You become hardened. Obsessed with
revenge on the one who did you wrong.
It’s you or him, and my moment had come.
“Boots on the ground. Thugs on the north side of the building. I’ll
pick them off as I can, but when they come around the corner, you
light their shit up.”

I looked up into the trees at the sound of the voice in my ear. My

brother-in-arms was sprawled out on a limb above, siting his rifle,
barely visible in the waning hour of dusk. I had no idea how he even
got up there. I said nothing in response. What do you say to a man
you’ve known your whole life when he sounds like another person to
you? He might have been worse off than I was.

The pounding of approaching feet on the ground sent my heart

hammering and adrenaline racing as a thrill ran through my blood
and I looked up. The first stars of the summer sky were popping
out. I barely had time to register Orion as the footsteps got closer.
My breath came out in pants. This was it. The moment I’d been
waiting for—training for. The very nanosecond I got a glimpse of
them running my way with their fingers on their triggers, I jumped
out of my hiding spot and got all of one shot squeezed off when a
hail of bullets hit me everywhere in my body. My chest. My stomach.
My legs. Falling to the ground, I covered my face with my forearms.

“They have a Tommy gun! How did they get their hands on that!?”
My teammate shouted in my ear.

“Help me!” I screamed with everything I had. I was going down in a

blaze of hell fire and my partner was nowhere to be found.
“I’m trying! I’m trying!”

My eyes in the sky were totally useless. Laughter came over the
headset. All my training, preparation, and research was circling the
drain with me.

It was game over. I had failed.

One of my enemies cackled. “We got you, Uncle Simon!”

I went limp on the ground as the little monsters pounced on me with

tickles, more Nerf bullets, and from one, a body slam that made my
breath whoosh out with an elbow to my stomach. My brother
dropped down from the tree and walked over with his Nerf N-Strike
Elite leaning over his shoulder. All I had was the Hyper Fire Blaster. It
had about two dozen darts but was no match for the motorized
beasts the boys were armed with.

“All right,” my brother Devon addressed his little heathens. “Who got
you the Ultra Blaster? We didn’t leave the house with that sucker.”

“Grandma!” My nephews chorused.

Sold out by our own mother!

I pounced to the balls of my feet and scooped up my youngest
nephew, Marcus, flipping him over and dangling him by his feet.
“Ah, I’ve taken a prisoner of war!”

He hooted wildly as I swayed him back and forth. His shirt rode up,
exposing his small belly, and I swung him up, pressed my mouth to
his stomach, puffed out my cheeks, and blew raspberries all over.
“Help!” Marcus cried out for his two older brothers. “The torture! The
torture!” His twin brothers, all of seven years old, decided to leave
their five-year-old younger brother to the claws of their uncle. My
brother wasn’t raising any fools.

Gently, I lowered Marcus to the ground. His breath came out in

heavy spurts as he rolled around on the grass as if he were in the
worst pain imaginable from “the torture.”

I loved these three little monkeys. I would take real bullets for them
without a second thought.

But that wouldn’t stop me from trying to take them out in Nerf wars.

“All right, minions,” Devon said. “Bath time. Then you can put on
Star Wars.”

“YES!” They fist pumped the air and rejoiced for their good fortune
all the way inside, brown hair sticking up at all angles, faces and
bodies covered in dirt. They weren’t cheering bath time, of course.
They cheered Star Wars. They’d been waiting to watch this latest
one, and my brother had been hanging it over their heads as an
incentive for them to do what he wanted. My brother was not above
extorting his children.

Halfway to the door, Marcus stopped and turned around. “I’m going
to miss you, Uncle Simon. I really wish you weren’t moving away.”
Then he turned around and took off after his brothers, blissfully
unaware he left shards of my heart all over the place.

I released a long breath and rubbed my chest with the palm of my

hand. My brother clapped my shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said.
“You’re only going to be a couple of hours away.”
“I see them every weekend though.” I turned to look around at the
dark backyard of my childhood home. How many summer nights had
Devon and I spent camping out there? How many snow villages did
we make in the winters? This was my nephews’ playground now, but
I hadn’t given up my fun with them.
I followed my brother up the creaky back steps and into the house
covered by cedar shake and white trim. The wooden screen door
closed with a groan of rusted springs and a snapping crack behind
me—one of the most comforting sounds of summer, followed by the
ice cream truck, crickets, and boys laughing, and begging my
mother for a treat before bath time. Of course, she refused. She’d
been helping my brother raise his hooligans ever since his wife died.
“Listen, as much as the boys and I are going to miss you, you can’t
live your life scheduled around them,” Devon said. Our mother
bustled around the country kitchen getting her popcorn party set up.
She had an air popper and like eight different popcorn seasonings.
All her boys, including myself and Devon, loved to “make our own”
popcorn for movie nights. “You need to have your own life. You’re
going to be three hours away. You can still drive down on a Friday
night and spend the weekend. The boys and I can come up to you
on school breaks. You’re moving to New Hampshire, not the moon.”

But it felt like the moon, even though I was trading the sleepy little
coast town of Cape Brandon, Maine, for Grayson Falls, New
Hampshire. Small New England town to small New England town.
Same lifestyle, different faces. As a web designer, I could have done
this new job from the comfort of my own home—read that my
mother’s home—but my new boss really wanted me on-site.
This would be the very first time I would live on my own, not
including college. Pathetic right? A twenty-eight-year-old man that
still lived with his mother sent up all kinds of red flags, but I just
didn’t feel the need to get out of my mother’s house. She was a
great mom, and she wasn’t over-bearing. Then again, it wasn’t like I
brought women here or anything.
When my sister-in-law died, my mother made a full-boar attempt to
get Devon and the boys to move in with us. There was plenty of
space. My mom worked as a freelance writer, and even after our
father died, she kept her desk set up in the master bedroom and let
me take over our father’s home office. That still left two extra
bedrooms and a finished basement, which the boys had made their
own anyway. Devon was a police officer in town, and the boys often
stayed here if he was on a night-shift, or I’d go to their house. But
Devon wouldn’t hear of taking the boys away from the house their
mother lovingly decorated and made a home out of.

“And maybe you’ll meet a nice girl in New Hampshire.” My mother

winked at me and I rolled my eyes. She didn’t hound me often about
my love life, but I knew she desperately wished for another
daughter-in-law and more grandchildren.

“At this point, any girl will do,” Devon muttered, and I scowled at
him.

It was true. I didn’t date. But that was mainly because I grew up
with all the women that lived in this town. Cape Brandon was a small
fishing village that urban sprawl and tourism had overlooked so far.
There was a bed-and-breakfast in town that did a good business, as
well as a campground, but vacationers usually headed to Portland or
bypassed this area entirely for Bar Harbor. I loved the women I knew
here, but nobody created that spark inside that everyone talked
about. I had a very specific type of woman in my head, and none of
the lovely ladies of this sleepy little town fit my idea of the perfect
woman for me. I wanted what my parents had—what my brother
had before his wife died. I wasn’t interested in settling for anything
else than that spark.

The boys came back down into the kitchen after what must have
been the fastest bath in the history of hygiene. Devon was skeptical
that a thorough job was done, but their faces and hands were clean,
and they were in pajamas, so maybe that was the best we were
going to get.
“Grandma? I want bacon and cheddar.” Travis, one of the twins,
climbed up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. A wrought
iron pot rack with lights hung overhead. Devon helped Marcus up
onto another stool, and the other twin, Gavin, made his way up onto
the last stool on his own.
“And you shall have it.” My mother lined up the popcorn seasonings
like little soldiers along the tiled counter in between the boys and the
gas stovetop. She moved to the other counter to start pouring
popcorn into individual plastic cartons with red and white stripes that
looked just like what you get at the movie theater. It was a nice
touch.
Devon handled adding the seasoning to each bowl because the boys
couldn’t be trusted with that task, while I crossed over to the
refrigerator and retrieved juice boxes for the boys and beers for the
three adults. Once the boys were set and headed off to the living
room to get the movie ready, Mom handed us each our own bowl of
popcorn. We seasoned them and joined the boys.

Everyone had their assigned spots. It wasn’t official or anything, just

our routine. Mom liked to curl up in her chair and a half with a big
ottoman, and she usually got at least one of the boys at some point.
My brother and I took the recliners on either end of the large leather
sofa, and the boys normally sprawled on the couch, the floor, or with
Mom. Tonight though, Gavin climbed up with Devon and cuddled
down, putting his head on his father’s shoulder. Mom looked over in
interest. Devon covered his son up with a blanket and tucked him in
before looking up and making eye contact with Mom. I knew that
shared look. It meant they thought Gavin would probably be puking
soon. I hoped if he did, it was just from too much fun and not a
stomach bug that was about to rip through my family right before I
left.
These were the things I would miss. When all three of the boys get
sick, we adults divided and conquered, each taking on a kid who got
all our care and attention. It worked for us. But now there would
only be two adults. The opening credits began, and the iconic golden
scroll rolled up through the seventy-inch screen. The familiar
symphony rang out through the surround-sound speakers.
Dammit, I couldn’t take my system with me. My mom would have a
better home theater set up than I did. And again, I was questioning
my decision to leave. I’d miss this living room. The furniture had
changed over the years, as had the entertainment system. The
wide-planked hardwood floors accompanied cream colored walls and
thick faded green molding typical of New England homes. This room
had been the center of my family forever. The comfortable feeling
hugged you like a blanket just out of the dryer.

About half-way through the movie, Marcus was up with Mom, and
Travis was curled into my side, sweating with pink cheeks. All three
boys were sleeping.

Mom looked over at Devon. “I think you should spend the night,” she
said softly. “I’ll go get Margo and bring her here. They can stay with
me while you work tomorrow.” Margo was the boys’ big, goofy mutt.
Devon nodded and frowned, brushing his hand over Gavin’s head
before pressing his lips to his son’s forehead. A little trick to taking
temperature I learned on the “uncle job.” Mom and I leaned down to
our little guys and did the same. Travis felt warm, but not quite
burning up. He was sweating, so that was a good sign. Maybe he
wouldn’t be down long.
Mom looked back up to Devon. “They’ll need something to bring the
fevers down.” Devon switched off the movie and tossed the remote
control on the end table before standing up. Slowly, gently, Mom and
I stood with our precious bundles, and we all walked upstairs in a
line to bring the boys to their room here. Three twin beds stood in a
row evenly spaced out, and we eased each of the boys down on
their assigned beds. The room shared a bathroom with mine, so I’d
hear if they got up tonight, but I doubted I’d be called upon. Devon
pulled the zipper open on a bean bag chair and pulled out a big,
fluffy pillow mattress. Mom disappeared and returned with sheets for
it. Looked like Dev was bunking in here tonight.
“Wake me up if you need reinforcements.” I squeezed his shoulder
on my way out of the room. Devon and Mom whispered for a few
more minutes, but I couldn’t hear them anymore once I crossed into
my half-packed room. Boxes were stacked in the corners. Removed
photographs left behind discolored squares and rectangles on the
gray walls. The room looked barren. There wasn’t much for me to
move, but thankfully, I was renting a fully furnished apartment in
Grayson Falls. Then I’d figure out what to do next. It could be that I
didn’t stay.

But I knew I would. It was almost like I had to stay. I was

determined to shake my life up a little bit and get out of my comfort
zone. The company I was going to was family-run. They would
understand extended weekends in Maine for family visits. I could
work anywhere as long as I had a laptop.
After changing into flannel pants and a baseball t-shirt, I headed into
the bathroom to brush my teeth. Right as I started to swish my
brush in my mouth, I heard, “Daddy, I have to ‘fro up.” I jumped out
of the way as my brother made a fast beeline through the door and
to the toilet with Travis. The retching sound coming from his little
body made me want to vomit in sympathy. While Travis hurled,
Devon prepared a dose of children’s Tylenol. After rinsing out my
mouth, I walked into my room and retrieved the book I was reading
from the bedside table then crossed back into the boys’ room to take
up residence on the pillow bed with my brother.

It was going to be a long night.

 Maggie

T
he sounds of summer were in my blood. It wasn’t the same
things others might hear—like ocean waves or carnival
rides. My summers sounded like the roar of forty eight-
cylinder engines all hitting the gas at the same time. The vibrations
of the grand stands as the field thundered by. An excitement so
intense it made your entire body quake. The highs of winning, the
lows of crashing, and everything in between. I spent my summers
on the stock car circuit, and when I had to go back to school in
September, it felt like the loss of a limb. From February until
November, my whole being was absorbed by racing, breathing the
smell of exhaust, wearing my ear protection like an extension of my
head, and soaking up every bit of knowledge I could about cars.
By the time I was eight, I took apart my first engine. At twelve, I did
oil changes, rotated tires, handled lube jobs, and tune ups. I wore
engine grease on my face like other girls wore blush, and instead of
short shorts and tank tops, I wore coveralls and overalls. Steel toe
boots replaced flip flops, leather gloves in place of cute manicures. I
spent my formative years in the garage surrounded by men.
One day, legendary stock car driver Jimmy Reilly dropped his hat on
my head with a wink and a smile—told me to come see him for a job
when I was old enough. That moment defined my life. I still had the
hat, and I got the next best thing to working with my idol.

The three cars running around the quarter-mile short track drew my
attention back to the present as my boss stood next to me making
observations that I noted with black-stained fingertips in my tablet.

“The air dam sits too high,” he said as we focused on one car
making its way around the track.
“It meets the specs,” I replied.

“Double check it.” I would because he told me to, but it was right on
point. I stared at the red number five car as it lagged behind the
other cars on the track. It wasn’t there yet. Next to me, my boss
crossed one arm over his chest and rested his other elbow on his
forearm, scratching his chin as his eyes followed the car around the
track.

“Harder on the turns, Jacks,” he said into the headset. The female
voice on the other end told him where he could shove it. My boss
smirked in response, and I was reminded that I hit the jackpot the
day I landed this job. He spun on his heel, and I turned to follow
him back to his truck.
“It’s still not ready,” he said, pulling the headset off and handing it to
his assistant walking on his other side. I pulled mine off as well and
cursed as it got stuck in my hair. My already messy bun got pulled,
probably making little bumps in my hair, but I finally handed it over,
making no attempt to right what now likely looked like a bird’s nest
sitting on top of my head.

“There’s not enough downforce on the turns,” I replied. But I didn’t

mention that that’s the reason the air dam didn’t look right. He knew
that. He knew everything about stock cars.

After propelling myself up into the cab of his truck and seat-belting
myself in, I continued making notes in my tablet. Pulling away from
the short track, we headed onto the rural, two-lane road at a
leisurely pace. One too many tickets from his brother-in-law, the
chief of police, slowed him down.

In town limits anyway.

The quaint, picturesque New England town passed by outside the

window without me paying any attention to it. People saw charm. To
me, it was just where my job went after the company left New York.
I spent my childhood traveling the country, and I could honestly say
there’s no one part I liked better than any other. Everywhere you
went had pros and cons. Grayson Falls, New Hampshire had my job,
and so, here I was.

I glanced up at the profile of Ryan Willis, my boss and the son of

famed stock car driver, Toby Willis. Ryan was half owner of Willis-
Reilly Racing. His sister, Jackie Reilly Mackenzie, was the other owner
and the daughter of my idol, Jimmy. When the position of lead
design engineer opened up, I didn’t knock on their door. I pounded
with both fists and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Thankfully, my
education and work experience spoke for themselves because Ryan
said I’m pushy as all hell. When you’re a woman in a man’s business,
you really don’t have any other choice.
The road got bumpy as we left asphalt and entered dirt and gravel.
Ryan took the potholes slow, muttering about how his brother
needed to get on filling them in. I stopped typing since the bumps
knocked my fingers off the appropriate keys. Ryan’s assistant was in
the back seat on the phone. I glanced back and wondered for the
hundredth time how she got through life in this area wearing heels.
She still dressed like she worked in New York City instead of the
Great North Woods. This area was for boots and sneakers you don’t
care about. Nothing around our building was paved. Yet when we
pulled up to the converted barn and got out of the truck, she
gingerly walked around on her stilts.

Shaking my head, I hopped down from the truck and made my way
—in steel-toed boots—into the building. Yes, they made my feet hot
in the summer, but the building was air conditioned, and I liked to
keep my toes. When you worked on cars, sometimes you dropped
stuff. So, I wore my big, ugly, chunky boots, regardless of whether I
was spending the day in my office or under a car.

Ryan headed upstairs to his office, and his assistant followed. I

didn’t miss the male heads turning to watch her. Jamie was young,
blonde, statuesque, and totally put together. She was also smart as
hell. Secretly, I thought she still dressed up because she liked the
attention. She was perpetually single. My theory was because when
she opened her mouth, her intelligence was obvious, and men got
confused. They expected an airhead but got brains instead. She was
the whole package, and hopefully one day, the right guy would see
that. He’d be just as beautiful as she was, and they’d make stunning
babies.

I also thought her brain was wasted in her job, but kept my mouth
shut on that topic. Who was I to give career advice? If she was
happy taking calls and keeping Ryan’s schedule, I was in no position
to judge.

Me, I was the polar opposite. My mousy brown, arrow-straight hair

was always piled in some knotty mess on the top of my head. I
walked around in cargo pants, heavy boots, and a tank top that in
the colder weather, I switched out for a Henley or one of my Willis-
Reilly Racing hoodies. My clothes were usually grease-stained, my
fingertips the same. I had average brown eyes and my breasts were
on the smallish-size. Around here, I blended in like the wallpaper—if
we had wallpaper.
I took the metal stairs leading up to the office level at a jog. I had to
wait for the car to come back from the track before I could work on
it, so instead, I entered my small office and sat down at my digital
drawing board. A few swipes of my fingers brought up the drawings
and specs of the car. I was just about to pop in my ear buds when
there was a rap on my doorjamb. Jamie stood there in her stylish
navy-blue dress. It was plain, but on her it looked sophisticated.

“What’s up?” I asked.

With a sigh, she walked over to me and tugged my hair free. I sat
there and took it. She did this sometimes when the chaos of my
appearance offended her polished sensibilities.
“Just scheduled a meeting for Ryan,” she said, as she finger-combed
my hair out and arranged it around my shoulders.
“Uh, that’s not really unexpected since that’s one of your job
responsibilities, right?” I replied. She gave a not-so-gentle tug in
response.

“It’s with a guy that wants to get into stock car racing. He’s flying in
from California, big bucks. Ryan practically salivated.”

“Also, not surprising as that’s kind of our customer base,” I said.

She gave my head a shove with her hand when she finished with my
hair and started to sashay toward my office door. “Some guy named
Colton Donavan.” She tossed over her shoulder like she wasn’t
dropping a bomb, and I practically tumbled off my exercise ball that
served as an office chair.
“Get back here, you wicked bitch!” She turned to me with a smirk so
naughty I knew she was messing with me. “Colton Donavan.” My
ears must have been deceiving me. Too much time listening to
roaring engines could have finally started the hearing loss.

“Tall, dark, brooding, muscled, tattooed, and hella delicious Colton

Donavan.” She spun on her stilettos. Yup, my hearing was fine. That
was an accurate description of IndyCar’s bad boy and current star.
My heart sped up, and my palms started to sweat a bit.

Colton Donavan.
Coming here.

I was starting to fangirl.

“He wants a stock car?” I asked. “He wants to get out of Indy?”
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know what his plans are as far as racing,
but he told Ryan he’s interested in buying a stock car team, so
maybe his business is looking to expand. All I know is Mr. Delectable
is coming here, and we should look our best.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my digital board. “He’s married,
Jamie. His wife is a bombshell and seems sweet. His eye doesn’t
wander anymore.”
I was not going to lie, my vagina shed some tears when I heard the
news of his nuptials.

“His body doesn’t wander,” Jamie said. “And maybe his mind doesn’t
either, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still appreciate the look of a
beautiful woman standing in front of him. He’s married, not dead.
Would it kill you to wash your hands and brush your hair?”

I looked down at my splotchy fingertips with a shrug. I was who I

was. With a frustrated sigh, she pivoted on her heel and headed for
the door. As soon as she cleared it, I grumbled, pulled my hair up,
and got back to work. But the anticipation of meeting Colton
Donavan still lingered in the back of my mind.
 Simon

M
y first impression of Grayson Falls was that it looked
almost exactly like Cape Brandon, minus the ocean. It
was quaint with its Main Street and various businesses
along both sides. Old-fashioned black lampposts lined the street, and
traffic meandered lazily along. It was almost like home. It was just
missing my family.
Taking a deep breath and letting it back out again, I reminded
myself for the thousandth time since I left home that morning that
they were only three hours away. I could go there and back in the
same day if I wanted to.
Or I could just go back entirely and cancel this whole part of my life.

My freelance work paid well. I was my own boss, made my own

hours, decided my own workload, and was compensated what I
asked to be. I stopped work for the day when the boys got home
from school, and we went swimming or rode bikes or, if the weather
was bad, played board games. I helped them with their homework
and doctored their skinned knees.

But I was in a rut, and my life was never going to change.

I didn’t think I wanted my life to change. I had things good. Yeah, I

lived with my mom, but so what? I did my own laundry, did work for
her around the house, took turns cooking, and was gainfully
employed. It wasn’t like I was a slug.

She would never admit it, but I think she wanted the chance to
stand on her own two feet. I let myself believe she needed someone
to take care of her since our father died, but that’s not true. And
lately, as I watched my brother with his boys, I had been thinking I
wanted some of my own. Or maybe girls. But kids, and a whole
crate of them. Of course, to have said kids, I needed a woman to
help produce them.

Which meant my life had to change. So, I accepted the position in

New Hampshire despite the fact I could have totally done this job
from Maine, and if I pushed the issue, I probably would have still
gotten the job. My portfolio spoke for itself. I worked for high-end
businesses and small mom and pops.

The thing was, the last few years, I had this image in my head of
the woman I wanted. My dream girl, if you will. She was beautiful,
of course. Put together, a career woman, smart, well-dressed,
possibly blonde. Stereotypical? Generic? Maybe a little objectified?
Yeah, probably. I blamed my dick.
My brother said I was a fancy dresser. He was not wrong. I was a
professional. I did video conferences and client site visits. Image was
literally my job. How could I have convinced a client I could create a
visually stunning project if I showed up looking like a mountain
man? And if I wanted to spend my money on on-trend clothing
because I didn’t have anything else to spend it on, then who cared?
When image ran your life, you had to be on your game.

I turned off the main road after the hospital and started down a dirt
and gravel, pot-hole-ridden road. There was a multi-million-dollar
business down here? My interview was a video conference, so I
hadn’t actually been to the office. The road was enshrouded by
trees. As if someone called a cue, a deer ambled across the road in
no particular hurry right in front of me. The road was bone dry, so
the tires kicked up dust. The canopy of trees blocked out most of the
sun as I started to wonder if maybe this was a cut through to a
busier road, but my GPS said my destination was coming up. Quite
frankly, I was impressed I even still had GPS.
Bright light shined in my eyes as I came out of the trees, and the
sky opened up revealing the perfect sunny day I left behind with
civilization. The road continued forward, but the disembodied voice
of my GPS announced my arrival at my destination. Stopping my
Jeep when I saw buildings, I took in my surroundings. My mouth
salivated as I spotted an Aston Martin in a stand-alone garage ahead
of me. My brow raised when I saw that it was parked next to a stock
car. I shouldn’t be surprised considering the company I now worked
for designed and sold stock cars and my new boss owned
professional teams, but it still made for an odd visual—then again,
they are both fast cars.

Next to a good-sized log home on my right, two barns stood. One

had faded red paint. The doors were open, and I could see the
inside. It looked like what you’d expect to see in a typical American
barn. A pickup truck was parked outside of it, and fields lay beyond.
Pigs and chickens wandered around as if they owned the place.
The second barn had a newer coat of paint and even trim painted a
clean, crisp white. However, upon closer inspection, it had automatic
glass doors. Blinking, I cocked my head to the side. That looked
really strange on a barn.

My attention turned to two men walking down the road before me.
They were in the dark coveralls of mechanics, and I could see the
Willis-Reilly Racing logo on the breast. As they caught sight of me,
they raised a hand in greeting before continuing on toward the
building. One man dropped a cigarette in a plastic receptacle right in
front of the door, and they walked inside as the automatic doors
opened.

Cautiously, I pulled my truck up and got out to walk around. This

was the address for the company, but I was standing on a farm.
Walking toward the door, I saw the company logo etched into the
glass. Okay. Well, maybe at least someone inside could point me in
the direction of the offices.
But when I crossed over the threshold, I was in a completely
different world. I stopped short, and my mouth fell open in shock.
Standing there, gaping like a bumpkin, I looked at what was around
me. A concrete building sat inside the barn. Before me was an
enterprise I could only marvel at. Two shiny stock cars sat in the
center of the room surrounded by engine bays filled with metal tool
chests, benches, and equipment that I couldn’t hope to understand
the purpose of. Cars were in various stages of production, and there
were guys wearing coveralls working at each one. A large garage
bay door was closed at the back of the facility. The air conditioning
cranked. Music blared, and the lights were bright, hanging from the
high ceiling that had about six sky lights in it.

Above, a glass office revealed my new boss inside. A second floor

extended halfway across the building, and I could make out what
looked like more offices and maybe a conference room up top. Still
dumbfounded, I made my way along the shiny, gray concrete floor
toward the steel steps. A few of the mechanics glanced up at me,
but no one tried to stop me.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I was standing in a reception
area with comfortable looking couches and chairs. A television on
the wall was muted but set to a news channel. And a knock-out
blonde sat behind a desk. She rose when she saw me. I recognized
her style and attention to detail in the fine lines of her lavender suit,
her heels the same color. Nothing was out of place, not her makeup,
not her clothing, not her hair. A quick glance at her hand showed no
rings on important fingers. This was exactly the type of woman I
saw in my head when I conjured my dream girl. She was a work of
genetic art. And yet, as I stood there appreciating the look of a
stunning woman, I felt no stirring in my blood, no particular physical
interest to speak of.
“Simon Webster?” she asked, extending her hand with her perfectly
manicured fingernails.
“Yes.” I nodded and reached my hand out to take hers. Her skin was
soft, of course. I swear this girl popped right out of my brain and
yet, no spark. No nothing. This was befuddling.
“Did you find us all right?” Pulling her hand back, she clasped them
in front of her.

“I did,” I said. “But I didn’t realize I was looking for a barn. This is ...
unique.”
Her laugh was lyrical, and still I was not enchanted. I didn’t
understand. My dream girl was literally standing before me.
“It is. The property is owned by Ryan’s sister, Jackie, and her
husband. Their brother runs the farm and uses the first barn, but
this one was just sitting here. When Ryan decided to move his
business up here from New York, he hired an architect to design a
facility that met all his needs but didn’t stand out. He didn’t want to
ruin the aesthetic of the property. It’s unconventional but isn’t an
eye sore, and it keeps us well hidden. Not only are there extremely
expensive tools in here, but the cars themselves are worth a fortune.
Of course, our security is designed by the best in the business, so
we’re not too worried about being messed with. And then there’s the
fact that the chief of police is Ryan’s brother-in-law.”
“Handy,” I said, pushing my hands into my pockets and rocking back
on my heels. Yup, small town life. Everyone knows everyone.

“I’m Jamie, Ryan’s assistant. But really, I’m more like an office
manager around here,” she said, walking behind her desk and
picking up a blue leather folder with the company logo on it before
handing it across the desk to me. “This is all the paperwork we need
you to fill out. You don’t have to do it now. You can take it home and
bring it back in the morning. We’ll go in and speak with Ryan now,
and then I’ll show you to your office. I’ve procured all the
technology you requested and had it set up, but if anything’s wrong,
please let me know, and I’ll get someone on it immediately. We do
staff an IT guy, but he’s part-time, and I’ll have to call him in.”
“Okay.” It’s all I could come up with. This girl had it together.
“You can set your own hours. We’re here about eight-thirty a.m. to
five p.m. Some of the mechanics are in real early and leave in the
early afternoon; others come in a little later in the morning and
prefer to work into the evening, but Ryan keeps normal business
hours, as do I, and our accounting team. The engineers are a little
different. There’s three of them. One likes to work from home a few
days a week to save on childcare costs. One sticks to normal
business hours. And Maggie, our lead engineer, well, she’s just
something different entirely. She’s a bit of a workaholic.”
I nodded. This Maggie and I were probably going to get along
famously. Without my family to go home to, and not knowing
anyone in this town, I imagined I was about to become a
workaholic, too.

Jamie came out from behind her desk and motioned me toward
Ryan’s door. As we entered, Ryan looked up from his computer.
When he saw me, he pushed back from the desk a bit and leaned
back in his chair. The office was all glass and looked out over the
production floor. Another large screen television hung on his wall but
was tuned to ESPN. Opposite the television sat a black leather
couch. To one side was a small bar cart stocked with what looked
like very expensive liquor. To the other side was a small refrigerator
and coffee station.
“Coffee?” Jamie asked me.

“Uh, sure,” I said, unsure on whether I should sit or stand.

Ryan gestured to the two visitor chairs in front of his desk as Jamie
walked to the coffee bar. Reaching across the desk, I shook Ryan’s
hand before sitting down and putting my blue folder on the desk.
Behind Ryan was a credenza with photos of his family, his wife, kids,
what looked like brothers and sisters, and various photos of his
father in victory lane. I liked that he was a family man, too. It would
make things easier when and if I had to leave to attend to my family
unexpectedly.
“Welcome aboard,” he said, sitting back. He pulled his glasses off his
face and tossed them onto the desk. “I’m excited to get you
started.”
“It’s great to be here.” That was only a little lie. I was nervous about
this new time in my life, but now that I had gotten a look at the kind
of operation I’d be working for and the environment, I was intrigued
enough to be a little excited, too. The production floor was
impeccably clean, considering the business that ran here—and how
dirty a typical mechanic’s garage tended to look. The offices likewise
looked clean and organized. Jamie seemed to run a tight ship.
She handed me my coffee and told Ryan she’d be at her desk.
Taking a sip from the mug, I winced a bit from the heat.
“She seems efficient,” I noted.

“You have no idea,” Ryan replied. “I really should change her title,
but I’m not sure what’s most appropriate. Not only is she my
assistant, keeping me in line, but she’s also human resources, office
services, and our payroll department, all while interfacing with
accounting to make sure everything is being paid on time and our
company is being paid. She handles outside vendors, insurance, like
everything. I make sure her salary reflects her responsibilities, but
the appropriate title eludes me. Overlord, maybe? I don’t know. I’m
sure she’ll just change it herself one day.”

“Wow.”
“So, let’s get to some details.” Ryan kicked back and crossed his
ankles on top of his desk. His feet landed on what looked to be a
slide presentation and papers with a lot of graphs on them. I’m sure
it was the type of thing that would piss off his assistant. “You
probably parked in front, and that’s okay for today. Down the road
more is my house. I have extra parking cleared down there for
everyone. It keeps all the cars away from Ethan’s farm and Jackie’s
house. Just watch out for farm animals while you’re driving.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 LOS ATAUIOS DE LOS
CAPITANES D'ARMAS,
SOLO DE LAS ARMAS
Los adereços de los capitanes
solamente contaremos los de los
cauallos de armas e los de sus
personas para las armas, de los
quales el primero que aqui se
cuenta es el duque de Termens,
el qual entre otros cauallos
muchos que lleuaua vimos quatro
atauiados señaladamente, los dos
con dos pares de sobreuardas de
brocado e sus sayones de lo
mismo, otro con vnas
sobreuardas de terciopelo
carmesi e sayon con faxas de
raso carmesi, el principal con
vnas sobreuardas de terciopelo
morado y el sayon de lo mismo,
con vnos troncos bordados de oro
de martillo muy releuados con
vnos fuegos que salian por los
concauos dellos, de manera que
los troncos e las flamas henchian
el campo de los paramentos e del
sayon, con vnas cortapisas en lo
uno y en lo otro de letras grandes
del mismo oro bordadas en que
blasonaua la fantesia de la
inuencion.
El señor Prospero Colona hizo
seys atavios aunque entonces no
partio. El vno era de carmesi
vellutado, los dos eran el vno de
brocado rico, el otro de brocado
raso; los tres eran bordados, vno
de terciopelo negro con vnos
toros de oro en cada pieça o en
cada quarto del sayo muy
releuados; estaua el toro puesto
sobre vn fuego de troncos del
mismo oro de manera que se
henchia todo el campo. Era el toro
que dizen de Nero. En las
cortapisas hauia bordada vna
letra de letras de oro que dezia:
Non es questo simil al nuestro.
El otro atauio de raso azul con
vnos soles en cada canton de las
pieças en lo alto y en lo baxo,
vnos espejos en que dauan los
rayos del sol de do salian flamas
que sembrauan los campos de las
pieças. En las cortapisas estauan
como en lo otro, las letras de la
inuencion. El otro atauio e mas
rico, era de raso carmesi con vna
viña bordada por todas las pieças,
con sus sarmientos e hojas e
razimos maduros e por madurar,
hecho todo de oro tirado e plata e
matizes de seda de relieue, de
manera que la obra allende de ser
muy galana era muy rica.
El señor Fabricio lleuó cinco
cauallos de su persona; los dos
con atauios de sedas de colores,
el vno con vnas sobreuardas de
sayo carmesi e brocado hecho a
quartos, otro de brocado raso,
otro de brocado rico.
El marques de la Padula no hizo
alli ningun atauio por el luto que
lleuaua de su cuñada, pero lleuó
oro de martillo texido escacado
para vn sayo e sobre cubiertas e
brocados para otros atauios; su
hijo don Juan no lleuó otra cosa
sino paño negro por el luto de su
muger.
El conde de Populo lleuó sus
cauallos atauiados de brocados e
sedas, pero su persona no
llevaua mas que vna jornea a la
usanza antigua; mas lleuó su
sobrino don Antonio Cantelmo
que yua por su lugar teniente, tres
cauallos con tres atauios, uno de
brocado, otro de raso azul e
brocado a puntas, otro de raso
azul chapado de vnas matas de
siempre viuas muy releuadas.
El conde de Potencia lleuó dos
cauallos con sobre cubiertas e
sayones de sedas de colores e vn
otro atauio de brocado, y el
principal de raso azul con vnas
estrellas, en cada campo vna, que
los rayos della henchian toda la
pieça, eran de oro texido
bordadas muy releuadas, en las
cortapisas yua bordada la letra de
la inuencion.
El prior de Mesina hizo quatro
atauios para quatro cauallos; el
vno era de brocadelo e de
brocado rico a mitades; otro de
raso pardillo e terciopelo leonado
a puntas; otro de terciopelo
leonado e raso encarnado a
centellas con vnas tiras de tafetan
blanco sueltas por encima las
costuras como vnas lazadas de lo
mismo que las atauan a las juntas
de los centelles. El principal
atauio era de raso carmesi e
brocado rico de pelo hecho a
ondas a puntas. Hauia por medio
de la tira del raso vnos fresos de
oro que hazian la misma onda a
puntas, e de la vna parte e de la
otra dos tiras de margaritas de
perlas. Estauan juntado el
brocado e el raso con pestañas
blancas.
Antonio de Leyua lleuó quatro
cauallos de su persona,
atauiados, vno de raso naranjado
e raso blanco á puntas; otro con
vnas sobrecaidas e sazon de
brocado e damasco blanco hecho
a escaques, assentadas vnas
tiras angostas en torno del
escaque del brocado en el de la
seda, e de la seda en el brocado
e dos cees encanadas de lo vno
en lo otro, bordado todo de
cordon de oro. El principal cauallo
con vnas sobre cubiertas de
brocado blanco e terciopelo
carmesi hecho assimesmo a
escaques, e dos barras
travessadas en cada escaque de
lo vno en lo otro sentadas sobre
raso blanco, e en las barras de
brocado hauia en cada vna tres
candeleros de plata estampados y
en las de carmesi otros tres
dorados.
Don Jeronimo Lloriz lleuó quatro
cauallos de su persona; vno con
vnas cubiertas de azero, otro con
sobre cubiertas e sayo de azeituni
negro e de brocado hecho a
puntas. Otro con sobre cubiertas
e sayo de raso blanco e terciopelo
carmesi hecho a centelles con
vnas tiras de brocado de otro
tirado, assentadas encima las
costuras como vna reja, e vnos
lazos dentro en cada centelle del
mismo brocado, bordado todo de
cordon de oro. El otro cauallo
lleuó con vnas cubiertas de
carmesi raso de la manera de las
ricas del visrey.
Aluarado lleuó tres cauallos de su
persona; el vno con vnas sobre
cubiertas de terciopelo negro con
vnas tiras de raso amarillo; el otro
con vnas sobre cubiertas e sayo
de terciopelo morado e raso
amarillo a meatades, cubierto de
escaques de tres en tres tiras de
la vna seda en la otra, sentadas
sobre raso blanco. El otro con
vnas sobre cubiertas e sayo la
mitad de brocado rico e raso
carmesi, la mitad de brocado raso
e terciopelo carmesi, hecho todo
a escaques con vnas cruzes de
Jerusalen, de lo vno en lo otro,
bordadas de cordon de plata.
El capitan Pomar lleuó tres
cauallos de su persona; vno con
vnas sobre cubiertas e sayo de
raso carmesi con vnos entornos
de puntas de raso blanco; otro
con vnas sobre cubiertas e sayo
de raso blanco e terciopelo
carmesi e brocado hecho a
puntas de manera de vna venera;
el otro con vnas sobre cubiertas
de raso azul con vna reja de tiras
de brocado con vnas pieças de
plata estampadas, en cada
quadro eran vnas aes goticas.
Diego de Quiñones lleuó tres
cauallos de su persona; el vno
con vnas sobre cubiertas e sayo
de terciopelo negro e raso
amarillo hecho a puntas; otro de
terciopelo morado con vnas faxas
de brocado entorno; otro con vnas
sobre cubiertas e sayon de
brocado.
Carauajal lleuó cinco cauallos de
su persona adereçados los dos
de brocado con sus sayones, dos
de sedas de colores con sus
sayos, vno con vnas sobreuardas
e sayos de terciopelo carmesi
guarnecido de fresos de oro, con
vnas rosas de plata sembradas
por encima.
Los capitanes que nueuamente
con Carauajal yuan fueron bien
en orden; no los contamos porque
en nuestro tratado no estan
nombrados e no queremos turbar
los nombres para los que querran
sacar por los vnos nombres los
otros.
Rafael de Pacis se partió ante
deste porque se fue a viuir con el
papa e houo una conducta de
setenta lanças, pero lleuó tres
adereços fechos de Napoles para
su persona e tres cauallos. El vno
era vnas ricas cubiertas pintadas
con vn braço en cada pieça que
tenia vna palma en la mano, con
vn retulo reuuelto en ella con vna
letra que dezia:

La primera letra desta

tengo yo en las otras puesta.

Para este atauio lleuó vn sayo de

brocado negro; lleuó otro atauio
de brocado con vnas cruzes
coloradas de sant Jorge
sembradas por encima; otro
atauio lleuó de terciopelo negro
cubierto de lazos de brocado
sentados sobre raso blanco e
todos los vazios llenos de vnas
palmas pequeñas de plata a
manera de batientes.
El marques de Pescara lleuó
quatro cauallos con cuatro
adereços; los tres con
sobreuardas e sayos de brocado;
los dos de rico, el vno de raso. El
principal era de raso carmesi con
vnos fresos de oro entorneados,
vna mano vno de otro e de freso a
freso estaua cubierto el carmesi
de hilo de oro que cubria la seda,
saluo que de tres a tres dedos se
ataua el oro con vn cordoncico
pequeño fecha vna lazada e
quedaua entre vno e otro hecho
vn centelle de la seda y el oro
hecho dos medio centelles.
El conde Atorran Farramosca
entre otros atauios que lleuó, el
principal fue vnas sobreuardas e
vn sayon de raso carmesi con
vnas agudas de oro bordadas en
las pieças, de las quales salian
vnos fuegos que ocupauan todos
los vazíos. Era tan rico que se
cree que fuesse el atauio que
más avía costado vno por vno.
Su hermano Guidon Farramosca
lleuó el principal atauio de su
persona de brocado e terciopelo
carmesi hecho a triangulos, con
vnos triangulos del brocado en el
carmesi; del carmesi en el
brocado pequeños, con pestañas
de raso blanco.
Don Luys de Hiscar hizo dos
atauios de su persona; vno de
brocado de oro tirado,
sobreuardas e sayos, otras
sobreuardas e sayo de raso
amarillo e raso blanco a
meatades; el raso amarillo
cubierto de una red de plata con
vnos batientes de plata en los
nudos, y en lo vazio sobre el raso
vna cifra de plata estampada;
sobre el raso blanco la misma red
de oro con los batientes e pieças
doradas. Pero este murio ante de
la partida de Napoles.
Mossen Torel hauia hecho sin otro
atauio vnas sobreuardas e sayo
de terciopelo carmesi e raso
carmesi a meatades cubierto todo
de vnas tortugas de plata, saluo
que en las uardas eran grandes y
en el sayo pequeñas; pero este
tambien murio antes del partir e
llevólo su hijo.
El marques de Bitonto sin otros
atauios de brocado que lleuó hizo
vnas sobrecubiertas e vn sayo de
terciopelo negro con vnas
epigramas de oro bordadas por
él, muy ricas.
El prior de Roma hizo vn atauio
de brocado azul e terciopelo
carmesi hecho a triangulos con
pestañas de raso blanco, sobre
los triangulos de carmesi hauia
vnas pieças de oro estampadas
tan espessas que a penas se
descubria la seda.
Don Jeronimo Fenollet lleuó dos
atauios vno de terciopelo morado
e raso encarnado hecho a
centellas con tiras e lazadas de
tafetan blanco, como el del prior
de Mesina; lleuó otras uardas de
terciopelo negro con vna reja de
fresos de oro sobre tafetan
encarnado hecho a centelles; en
las juntas de los fresos hauia
vnas puntas de plata bien
releuadas e vn batiente en cada
punta; en los vazios del terciopelo
hauia vn centelle de plata
estampado tan grande que de
terciopelo se descubria tanto
como era el freso de ancho. Lleuó
con ellas vn sayo de raso blanco
e raso encarnado a meatades,
con vnos lazos de brocado por
medio de los girones e cortapisa
sentados sobre lo encarnado con
pestañas blancas, sobre lo blanco
con pestañas encarnadas Hauia
en los vazios de los lazos vnas
villetas de plata estampadas, en
lo blanco doradas, en lo
encarnado blancas, con muchos
batientes de la misma manera. El
cuerpo del sayo estaua forrado de
brocado muy rico acuchillado el
raso de encima e muy
guarnecido.
Mossen Coruaran fue por alferez
real; lleuó vn rico atauio bordado.
El duque de Grauina, el duque de
Trayeto, el marques de la Tela, el
marques Gaspar de Toralto, el
conde de Montelion destos no
especifica la escriptura
particularmente lo que lleuauan,
porque segun estos otros quien
quiera lo puede considerar e
porque sus atauios eran de
brocados e de sedas, sin manera
de deuisas ni inuenciones.
De Cicilia vinieron algunos
caualleros; aqui no se nombra
sino el conde de Golisano y el
lugar teniente de Cicilia que se
llamaua Don Juan de Veyntemilla.
Cualquier destos caualleros
napolitanos e cecilianos que no
tenian cargos, fueron tan
complidamente en orden, que
ninguno lleuó menos de veynte
gentiles hombres de cadenas de
oro de su nacion. De manera que
se estima que sin las mill e
dozientas lanças de ordenança e
capitanes, lleuó el visrey con los
cincuenta continos del rey y estos
señores e los italianos que con
ellos yuan e muchos otros
caualleros Españoles que viuian
con el rey, e otros que de nueuo
alli se llegaron delos otros
campos de Francia e venecianos
e del papa e de Ferrara,
trezientos caualleros de cadenas
de oro entre hombres de titulo e
varones e caualleros.
Agora hablaremos del dia qu'el
virrey partió; las damas que en
tres o quatro partes se juntaron,
porque por su nombre propio las
nombraremos, mas como
hauemos hecho los caualleros,
para quien quiera especular o
escaruar por los vnos nombres
los otros, pues que se podran
hallar vnos por el principio de los
nombres o titulos fengidos, otros
por las deuisas e colores; assi
que mire bien cada vno que no es
esto nada falso ni fengido.

LA PARTIDA DEL VISREY

El señor visrey partio de Napoles,
domingo a medio dia, ocho de
nouiembre, acompañado de todos
estos caualleros e otros muchos
principales e perlados e señores
que en la tierra quedaron, entre
los quales, fue el cardenal de
Sorrento, el arzobispo de
Napoles, el principe de Visiñano,
el príncipe de Melfa, el duque de
Ferrandino, el señor Prospero, el
duque de Bisella, el duque de
Atria, el conde de Soriano, el
conde de Matera, el conde de
Chariata, el conde de Trauento, el
almirante Villamarin, el marques
de Layno, el conde de Marco e
muchos otros caualleros. En
estos que aqui se nombran que
quedaron hay muchos de los que
en el tratado hallemos continuado
en las fiestas nombradas; los
quales son el marques de
Nochito, el duque de Bisella, el
duque de Ferrandina, el conde de
Marco, el conde de Sarno, el
conde de Trauento, el almirante,
el cardenal don Carlos de Aragon.
En las casas del principe de
Salerno estauan las señoras
reynas de Napoles con sus
damas, doña Juana Castriote, la
duquesa de Grauina, doña Maria
Enriquez, doña Maria Cantelmo,
doña Porfida, doña Angela
Villaragut, doña Juana Carroz,
doña Violante Celles, la señora
Diana Gambacorta, la señora
Maruxa, la marquesa de Layno, la
marquesa de Toralto e otras
muchas damas.
En Castel Novo estaua la
visreyna e su hermana, la
condesa de Capacho muger del
almirante, su hermana la muger
de don Alonso de Aragon, e otras
muchas señoras.
En casa del conde de Trauento
estaua la condessa e su hermana
la condessa de Terranoua e sus
hijas, la marquesa de Nochito, la
condessa de Soriano, la
condessa de Matera e otras
muchas señoras.
En casa de la señora duquesa de
Milan la señora su hija doña
Bona, la duquesa de Trayeto, la
señora Isabel, la señora doña
Maria de Aragon, la Griega e las
otras damas de la señora
duquesa e la condessa de Marco.
En casa de la marquessa de
Pescara estaua la marquesa, e la
marquesa del Guasto, la
marquesa de la Padula, la
condessa de Benafra, doña
Castellana muger de Antonio de
Leyua, la marquesa de Vitonto, la
duquesa de Franca Vila.
En casa de madame Andriana
estaua ella e su hija e doña Maria
Dalise e las hijas de Cario de
Fango.

LO QUE DESPUES DE PARTIDO

EL VISREY SE SIGUIO E LO
QUE FLAMIANO HABLÓ A
VASQUIRAN
DESPIDIENDOSE DEL.—
DONDE EL AUTOR TORNA A
USAR EL ESTILO PRIMERO
DE LOS NOMBRES
FENGIDOS.
Las otras damas que en aquel dia
houo no se nombran aunque
fueron muchas, mas no hazen al
proposito de nuestro tratado
porque en él no se han hallado.
Partido el visrey quedaron alli
algunos caualleros por algunos
negocios que les cumplian o
satisfazian, entre los quales
quedó Flamiano por poderse
despedir de Vasquiran más a su
plazer, él queriéndose partir
començo a hablar con Vasquiran
desta manera:
Agora, Vasquiran, conozco que mi
vida es poco o durará poco,
porque dos cosas que viua la
sostenian agora la acaben; la vna
era tener yo esperança de ver a
mi señora Belisena que della era
señora, la otra era tu compañia e
conuersacion que a los males
della ponia consuelo. Pues agora
el ausencia apartandome dos
bienes tan grandes no puede sino
encausarme dos mill males
mayores, por donde conozco en
mi que me acerco a la muerte,
apartandome de ti. Una cosa te
suplico, que no te enojes de
escriuirme, por que yo sé que
poco te durará tal fatiga. E si de
mi fuere lo que pienso que será,
ruegote que este amor tan grande
que agora nos sostiene e
conserua en tanto estremo de
bien querer, que de tus entrañas
no lo dexes amenguar ni venir a
menos, como muchas vezes
acontece, segun yo te lo he
escripto contradiciendote; mas
ante te suplico que en el pligo de
tus lastimas lo envueluas, para
que con aquellas, de mi te duelas
como dellas hazes. Esto te pido
no por darte a ti fatiga como dello
recibiras, mas por el consuelo que
mi alma recebira de ver la
memoria que de mi tienes, e
plega a nuestro Señor que en ti
dé tanto consuelo e alegria
quanto yo desseo e tú has
menester. No me cuentes esto a
pobreza de animo, porque
parecen palabras en algo
mugeriles, ante lo atribuye a lo
qu'es razon, porque lo mucho que
tu ausencia me lastima, la poca
esperança que de vida tengo me
lo haze dezir. Suplicote que en
tanto que aqui estaras no dexes
de visitar a mi señora Belisena,
porque sola esta esperança me
dara esfuerço para lo que me
quitará la vida, que será poder
caminar donde de su presencia
me alexase. No quiero más
enojarte con mis fatigas, pues que
siempre desseé complazerte con
mis seruicios, sino que me
encomiendo a ti, e te encomiendo
a Dios.

RESPUESTA DE VASQUIRAN A
FLAMIANO
Todo el bien que la muerte me
pudo quitar me quitó; todo el
consuelo e descanso que la
fortuna me podia apartar para mis
trabajos, me apartó en tu partida,
y esta lastima te deue bastar,
Flamiano, viendo con tu ausencia
quál me dexas, sin que con tal
pronostico más triste me dexes
como hazes. No son tus virtudes,
siendo tantas, para que tus dias
sean tan breues, porque muy
fuera andaria la razon e la justicia
de sus quicios si tal consintiesse.
Tu viuiras e plega a Dios que tan
contento e alegre como yo agora
triste e descontento viuo. Lo que
a mi memoria encomiendas, por
dos cosas es escusado; la una
por lo que he dicho, la otra porque
si otro fuesse lo que no será,
quien a tus dias daria fin a los
mios daria cabo, por muchas
razones que escusar no lo
podrian; mas en esto no se hable
más porque parece feo. Mandas
me que a la señora Belisena
visite; tambien es escusado
mandarmelo, porque quando tu
amistad no me obligara a hazerlo,
su merecimiento me forçara. Lo
que me pides que te escriua, te
suplico que hagas como es razon.
Yo me partire lo mas presto que
pudiere para Felernisa, negociado
que alli haya algunas cosas que
me conuienen, trabajaré de ser
muy presto contigo si algun graue
impedimento no me lo estorua, lo
que Dios no quiera. Entre tanto
viue alegre como es razon, pues
que vas en tal camino que por
muchas causas a ello te obliga.
La una yr en seruicio de la yglesia
como todos ys. La otra en el de tu
rey como todos deuen. La otra
por que vas a usar de aquello
para que Dios te hizo, qu'es el
habito militar donde los que tales
son como tú, ganan lo que tú
mereces e ganarás. La otra e
principal que lleuas en tu
pensamiento a la señora Belisena
e dexas tu coraçon en su poder,
qu'esto solo basta para fazerte
ganar quantas vitorias alcançar se
podrian. Una cosa temo, que la
gloria de verte su seruidor e las
fuerças que su seruicio te
ofreceran, no te pongan en mas
peligro de lo que haurias
menester. Yo te ruego que pues la
honrra es la prenda deste juego,
que dexes donde menester fuere
la voluntad e te gouiernes con la
discrecion. E assi te encomiendo
a Dios hasta que nos veamos e
siempre.

LA PARTIDA DE FLAMIANO
Acauados sus razonamientos
hablaron en otras muchas cosas
todo aquel dia, hasta la tarde que
Flamiano fue a besar las manos a
la señora duquesa e despedirse
della e de su señora con la vista.
A la qual embió estas coplas que
hizo por la partida, despues de
haberse despedido.

Poco es el mal que

m'aquexa
estando en vuestra presencia
en respecto del que ausencia
dentro en el alma me dexa
y en la vida,
porque siento en la partida
tanta pena e tal tormento
que no hallo a lo que siento
ya medida
ni me basta el suffrimiento.
E siendo mi pena tal,
no me quexo ni hay de quién
que quien nunca tuvo bien
no se ha de quexar de mal,
ni yo lo hago
porque con la pena pago
aunque me sea cruel
mi pensamiento, pues dél
me satisfago
con que no hay remedio en él.
Callo porque siempre crece
mi dolor que nunca mengua
pues ha callado mi lengua
lo que mi alma padece,
con tal pena,
mas agora me condena
este mal deste partir
para que os ose dezir:
aun no suena
que se acaba mi viuir.
Acabase porque veros
me mata con dessear
y el desseo con pesar
de verme no mereceros,
pues presente
de tal bien tan mal se siente
el triste que no os verá,
dezidme qué sentirá
siendo ausente,
claro esta que morirá.
Assi que, señora mia,
lo que siempre desseé
fue morir en vuestra fee
como agora se me guia,
si mi suerte
alcançasse con la muerte
tanto bien en pago della
qu'os pesasse a vos con ella,
menos fuerte
me seria padecella.
Mas nunca vos hareys tal
porque vuestro merecer
no lo consiente hazer
viendo que es pequeño mal
morir por ello,
assi que si me querello
será, señora, de mi,
porque nunca os mereci
e sin merecello
tantos males padeci.
E podeys ser cierta desto
qu'en veros supe juzgar
que no se podia pagar
tanto bien con menos qu'esto,
de manera,
que conocera quien quiera
pues que se muestra tan claro
que a muy poco mal me paro
aunque muera
e que no me cuesta caro.