by Edale Lane
The young man lifted his gaze to his father’s. “I love her, I can’t help it but I do. And Don Benetto is so cruel, to her and everyone else. She said he would never approve of us and if we run away, he would hunt us down and kill me.” Of that, Ally had no doubt.
“Life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to, and sometimes that is a good thing. Agnese is a lovely young lady, but there are many others. Perhaps what you feel for her is an infatuation, but even if it is love, there is enough love in you to share it with another. Mayhap one you admire as much or more is just over the horizon waiting to meet you.”
Antonio shook his head. “Even if that’s true, I believe I must test myself, prove to me what I am made of. I can do that in the army. The commitment is for two years–that is all, just two years. By then who knows? I may have determined you were right and I was crazy and I’ll be eager to dive into the family business. But I need to find myself, discover what is right for my life without being told. You probably don’t understand,” he added lowering his gaze once more.
Alessandro understood all too well. There had been a time when he had felt lost and ineffectual. He had found a calling during that time, one which led him on a journey of sorts, but not one that had daily threatened his life. Nevertheless, he had found himself and grown into the assured man of quiet strength he was today. Still waters ran deep in him, but his son wore his heart on his sleeve, reacting rather than responding to the circumstances in his life. Some people couldn’t be told; some can only learn through experience.
He patted Antonio’s knee and then pulled his hand back, straightening his posture. “You know I do not approve of this potentially deadly decision of yours, but at least allow me speak with the captain. You have enough education and standing to be commissioned an officer. That will give you even more experience as you will be in charge of others rather than simply following the orders dispatched to you.” And make you less likely to be killed, he reasoned.
Antonio raised a questioning gaze. “But how can I be in charge of others when I have no experience? I’ve never fired a cannon or even an arabesque. I’m decent with a sword, but-”
“Let us just talk with the captain and hear what he has to say about it. You are a fast learner and they will teach you what you need to know before giving you a squad to command.” He still could not believe this was the direction his son, the son of a pacifist who despised war and all its waste, was taking. There comes a time when a father must relinquish his role as authority figure and assume one of supportive friend, else his son remains a child forever. “But you must tell your mother of your decision.”
For the first time he read unrestrained terror in Antonio’s expression. He gulped and stiffened. “Will you go with me?”
Alessandro laughed. “So, you are ready to face down the Spanish cavalry and stand up to Don Benetto and his assassins, but are too afraid to deal with your mother?”
Antonio blinked, wiping damp palms on his leggings. “That’s different; she will cry.”
“Yes,” Ally assured him, “she will. Come; this is as good a time as any.”
Maddie was returning from a meeting with a client when she saw her brother sitting alone in the men’s parlor to the left off the main hall. The chamber was neither lighted nor did fire burn in the hearth. Noticing a distinct deviation from his regular mood, she ventured in and lit one of the lamps.
“Ally,” she began in an apprehensive tone. “What is wrong?”
When he lifted his head, she noticed he held a half empty wine glass and a copy of Petrarch’s Secretum meum lay open in his lap. His eyes were rimmed with red and conveyed a hopeless expression.
“Are you experiencing a crisis of faith?” She glanced at the famous work that had practically launched the Renaissance a hundred and fifty years earlier. He looks so tired, she noted and took a seat across from him.
“It’s Antonio,” he said sullenly and finished off his wine. She waited while he swallowed and set the empty glass aside. “He has joined the army.”
“What?” Madelena couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Oh, Ally, I am so sorry.” She reached her hand over and gave his a squeeze. “If you need anything, I am here for you.”
He tilted his head and offered her a soft smile hinting at the myriad of emotions he held inside. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she assured him. “Always.”
“Do you believe in God, I mean actually believe that He is real?”
She sat back contemplatively. “Politics of the Church aside, yes, I do believe someone or something greater than man created all that is, and that he, she, or it watches over us and holds everything together. It is only rational.”
“Precisely what Petrarch says,” Alessandro replied. “God gave man vast intellectual and creative potential to be used to their fullest, to benefit both mankind and the earth, God’s creation. I hate war,” he sighed.
“I know,” Maddie consoled.
“What I don’t understand is that if God is so all powerful, why doesn’t he prevent it?”
“This is one of the mysteries pondered by monks and saints, one we can scarcely comprehend, but…” She paused for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. “Maybe God is a little like you.” At that Alessandro’s eyes popped wide, and he gave her his complete attention. “Maybe he loves us so much that he lets us do what we want in hopes that one day we will return to Him wiser and more appreciative than we were in our reckless, willful pride.”
Ally regarded her in wonder as he clasped his hand around hers. “Sometimes, Maddie, you amaze me.” They sat in silence for a time just being together. No words were needed to feel the love and support between brother and sister. Presently, Alessandro said, “Portia is devastated. She will need your shoulder to cry on–you should go up to our rooms and sit with her.”
“I will,” Maddie promised.
Then he added, “I think the most difficult thing at first will be to see his seat empty at the table. It will be a constant reminder that he is far away and in mortal danger.”
Madelena considered. She slid her hand away and pushed back a stray hair which had slipped from its formal arrangement. “Mayhap I could suggest…” she began tentatively.
“Yes, go on.”
“Suppose Florentina was to occupy Antonio’s place at our table.” She waited breathlessly, the implication hanging in the air between them.
Her brother relaxed and radiated a bit more of himself than this sullen imposter she had been consoling. “I thought I noticed a spark between you two,” he noted with a wink. “You know I have no objection to whom you spend your private time with, but I will issue a strong word of caution; this cannot leave the house. Furthermore, the rest of the staff must not be made aware of anything of a personal nature between you. I don’t trust them. They talk, they gossip, and I strongly suspect a spy among them. How is it that Don Benetto knows our business almost before I do?”
His warning shot into Madelena’ consciousness like a command from the Almighty. “Yes, I agree. I wholeheartedly understand and agree such rumors would be damaging to our reputation, and you know I would never-”
“Yes, I know,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I like her; I think you have chosen well.”
Chapter 14
Florentina sat on a bench in the fresh, cool air of the courtyard under the watchful boughs of an olive tree. Being an evergreen, its silvery-green oblong leaves, and those of its twin a short distance away, still adorned its branches, but all its fruit had been picked for the season to add to the bounty of the Torellis’ table and be pressed into their household oil. She studied the ancient, gnarled trunk and limbs of the squat bushes and wondered how old they were. Olive trees had been prized since the days of the Roman Empire and the ancient city of Mediolanum, now Milan, with its Celtic roots from around six hundred B.C. and its subsequent prominence as a capital of the Western Empire. It was entirely possible that Casa de Torelli had been constru
cted around these trees to purposefully preserve them. She had read of such an ancient one in Athens named “Plato’s Olive Tree” that grew in what had once been the grove where Plato’s Academy had been situated almost two millenniums ago. Florentina marveled at their endurance before the march of time, as nature’s perfect food producing year after year, and the symbiosis of man and the earth in general.
She gazed about the part garden, part lawn with its late blooming chrysanthemums bursting forth in a colorful array of white, yellow, red, and purple and its ornamental cherry laurels, forever green. The children, who had been scampering about expending energy after a day of study, raced to the fountain–a stone sculpture of two cherubs pouring water from a vessel that trickled down into a round basin on a pedestal–to quench their thirst in the clean, pumped water. She smiled, musing to herself how Matteo and Betta’s round, smiling faces resembled those of the little angels.
Then Florentina closed her eyes to the gathering twilight, lay back her head, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath and listened to the song of a humble snow finch and the shout of the great spotted cuckoo. A flock of swallows passed over steering southward followed by the trumpets of a “V” of purple herons. It was a busy time for migratory and resident birds, especially after that first frost. As she took in her next deep breath, she noted a new fragrance in the air and smiled opening her eyes to savor the vision of a beauty with sunburst red hair and dazzling verdant eyes sashaying toward her. Now she knew she was in Heaven!
“Mama!” Betta shouted and ran over for a hug. Madelena lifted her daughter for an affectionate embrace and a kiss on the cheek before setting her feet back on the ground in front of Florentina. “Want to know what we learned today?” she asked, beaming with enthusiasm.
“I do,” Maddie replied. “Why don’t you tell us all at dinner?”
By that time Matteo had arrived for his hug. “Good,” he declared. “I’m hungry!”
She smiled, eyes laughing. “You are always hungry! Now, you two go wash up and change to clean clothes. It is almost time to eat,” she instructed.
“Yes, Mama,” they both acknowledged and raced away.
Florentina stood to meet Maddie’s gaze, a warm glow emanating from the center of her chest. Then she caught a hint of sorrow in her lover’s expression and her smile faded. “What is wrong?”
“Antonio has committed himself to the army,” she returned with the sound of dismay. “I have spent all afternoon consoling Ally and his wife and I just can’t talk about it anymore.”
“That’s alright,” Florentina responded in empathy. “There is no need.” She could easily enough imagine the heartbreak. She started to reach for Maddie’s hand, then stopped herself to scan the courtyard, porticos, and archways.
“Two things,” Maddie said as she began to stroll. Florentina fell in step beside her. They passed an opening where one of the maids leisurely swept dust out the open doorway. “Portia is overwrought at the idea of Antonio’s chair at the dining table laying empty,” she said in a robust volume. “Ally fears it will constantly remind her that her boy is in harm’s way, and he requested that I ask you to assume that seat for our family meals.” Florentina noted Madelena’s eyes drifting about catching the presence of staff members in the vicinity. “He said, ‘Why waste learning opportunities? Must Florentina wait until after breakfast to initiate a lesson? Why must her instruction end at four o’clock? It would be in all of our best interests if next week when Antonio has left for training that she be present to occupy the chair’.”
Florentina nodded in understanding. “I would be honored to be of service to Don Alessandro in any way possible. I can only imagine a mother’s heartache at such a turn of events.”
As they continued to stroll, Maddie turned a corner leading them away from the servants and back toward the olive trees. This time her voice was almost a whisper. “We spoke about you. He already suspected, and he likes you, has no problem with us being us.” She paused again, her eyes once more surveying the area. “But he requires complete discretion.”
Florentina nodded. “That is wise, Maddie. I wish that I could kiss you in the beauty of this garden, right now in the fading light of day, or at midnight under a blanket of stars. If only I could stroke your skin and hair with no concern for who was about, but I am fully aware that is not an option.”
“I long for that freedom as well, and Ally would accept you into the family, save the scandal it could create,” she explained. “He believes there is a spy, a traitor in the household who runs to our enemies with every morsel of information he or she can collect.”
“What lovely mums your garden produces!” Florentina exclaimed as they paused by one of the flowering shrubs. “Such vibrant colors,” she observed as she spotted Angela pass by a portico with an armful of folded linens. Then she added, “That is a strong possibility.”
Then Madelena stopped and turned to Florentina with a markedly changed expression. “Have you ever been to Slues Street?”
Florentina knew what this was about, but she feigned surprise. “No,” she replied as if the question had come out of the blue. “But I hear it is a bad part of town, one to be avoided.”
“Then I should like to go there,” Maddie pronounced. “My whole life has been sheltered. I have lived twenty-eight years in this house, frequenting the piazzas, cathedrals, the shopping district, fine cafes, and the mansions of other merchants and their wives–all safe, clean, affluent venues–to the point that I had convinced myself none other existed in our cultured, artistic, wealthy Milan. But the Night Flyer spoke of poor people living in misery in that part of town.” Sympathy consumed her features, and she looked away toward the rising moon. “I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that the poor were there; after all, the church has a large ‘poor box’ in which to place our alms. I know there are more modest homes in other neighborhoods, quite like the one you said you grew up in, but they aren’t poor.”
Florentina nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean. I have busied my mind learning about science, nature, philosophy, and faraway places, seldom taking time to think about who and what lay across town. I confess that I love beauty so much, I tend to turn away from anything that is not.”
Maddie began to stroll again, this time toward the arch leading to the dining room as the aroma of fresh bread and pasta wafted out into the private piazza. “But are not acts of kindness beautiful too?” she asked and Florentina’s heart was struck as with a flaming arrow. It is official, she said to herself. I am most assuredly in love with this woman!
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Perhaps the most beauty a human being can create.”
“Will you go with me on Saturday? I need to see for myself. I want to do something to help.”
Florentina nodded. They stopped at the entry to the residence. “Antonio leaves Monday morning,” Madelena said soberly. “Thank you for doing this for Ally and Portia.”
“My pleasure,” Fiore replied with a slight bow of her head.
Maddie silently mouthed the words, “Tonight, my chamber,” then turned and entered the dining room.
It had been a splendid night indeed, thought Florentina, still glowing with incomprehensible joy. She took a small sip of sunflower oil and swished it in her mouth while she dressed for the day. They had not yet “consummated” their relationship, but the flow of physical intimacy was heading in that direction. She recalled the giddy teasing and sensual exchanges and replayed them in her mind, adding to her present euphoria.
“What are you doing?” a curious Angela asked as she donned her maid’s uniform. It wasn’t often they rose at the same time.
Florentina held up a finger. Still swishing, she pulled a brass chamber pot out from under her bed and spit into it. “Oil pulling,” she replied as if everyone should know about the practice. Stepping back to the table bearing their wash basin, she opened a jar, retrieved a mint leaf, and popped it into her mouth to chew.
“What is that?” A
ngela asked with a baffled expression. “And why are you eating leaves?”
Florentina laughed and pushed the chewed leaf behind her gum. “Oil pulling is an ancient way of cleaning your teeth and mouth. The Greeks wrote about the practice which originated in India. And I’m not eating a leaf–it is mint, to freshen the breath.” She doubted the girl from the countryside even knew there was a place called India, but surely even she had heard of the ancient Greek civilization.
Angela gave her a sideways glance and pursed her lips. “You are a very strange woman–a nice one, but strange.”
“Have a good day,” Florentina called after her as Angela left for her morning duties.
Another good thing about last night was convincing Maddie I needed the day off, she thought as she brushed her long, brunette strands. She envisioned how silky and fine Maddie’s hair was compared to her more coarse variety. Nothing to do about that, she consoled herself.
Florentina had learned that Wednesdays were Iseppo’s days off and she had determined to shadow his every move in an attempt to catch him doing something he shouldn’t. It was a long shot, she knew, but anyone that distasteful had to be up to no good. That is why she had risen with Angela before dawn; she couldn’t take a chance that the bony butler would leave before she could follow him. Having robed herself in the most plain, unremarkable day dress she had in hopes of blending, Florentina reached for the common gray cloak hanging from a hook on the wall and picked up a navy blue women’s beret appropriate to the cold drizzle of the morning.
She noted that Iseppo habitually used the servants’ entrance in the rear of the house, so Florentina exited that doorway just as light began to filter through the neighborhood, casting everything in a shimmering red and golden hue reflected off the terracotta roof tiles. She made her way across the secondary back road and slipped into an alley from which she would watch the Torelli servants’ door. While standing patiently for the hour it took him to appear, her stomach reminded her that she failed to feed it.
