Revelations of the Ruby Crystal

by Barbara Hand Clow

  Jennifer studied his beautiful features while he spoke. She, too, could sense that the others knew what was unfolding. She liked his flirtatiousness and sense of humor. He made her feel like an open box of Godiva chocolates.

  “Come on, Jennifer and Armando, time for dinner. The cook won’t wait any longer,” Matilda said when they realized everybody else had already gotten up. As they filed into the dining room, Matilda said, “Armando, I always place the most eligible young lady next to your father, but tonight I’d like to switch you so that you can enjoy Jennifer’s company. That is, if you don’t mind, Pietro?”

  “Oh, of course not. Tonight I will enjoy sitting with Sarah with pleasure. We will discuss Marcion, since I have looked into the sources myself. I found some very interesting Gnostic tractates in the upper section of the library for you to look at, Sarah. Tonight, Simon, she is mine.” Thus Armando and Jennifer were free to probe into the events of their lives that led up to the present moment. Armando knew she was the one, and Matilda sensed that Armando might have finally found a woman he could care for in a real way.

  After everyone went to bed, Sarah took Simon into the ancient chapel to meditate and then they snuggled into the cozy bed. Simon wasn’t sure how he felt about Jennifer’s interactions with Armando. He was becoming more comfortable with Armando and it seemed he truly had transformed, but he still worried about his only sister. On the other hand, now that she was thirty-two she wanted children, so he hoped she’d find someone to love soon. Her great success as a photographer challenged most men, and many of her colleagues were gay. Armando matched her in intelligence and personality, and it seemed his new view of life could support her strong spirit.

  Sarah read a novel for a while. Just before turning out the light, she studied the embroidered tendrils and small flowers gracing the inside of the canopy, the same ones that had soothed her after Armando’s attack. When she fell asleep, a big dream came. I see Jesus in a woven white robe approaching the well where I wait for him in a hooded sapphire blue robe. I hold the alabaster jar. He comes close to me and I kneel in adoration. He says, “Rise, Mary, you are not beneath me.” I rise. He kneels in front of me, and I anoint his forehead, temples, and lips. Light waves flowing out of his body lift him way above the well. He beckons me with his arms; his eyes draw me up to him.

  The guests enjoyed fresh orange juice, omelets, and homemade bread with jam, then Armando took Simon, Jennifer, and Sarah up to his studio. Sarah was very anxious to see Armando’s work; however, as they reached the bottom of the stairs she hesitated, realizing she hadn’t been back to his studio since the day he attacked her. Armando smiled reassuringly at her and led the way up the stairs. He pushed the door open and led them in. Holding Simon’s hand, Sarah walked in and then gasped. More than twenty large canvases of powerful and compelling medieval-style paintings interspersed with modern touches were scattered around the floor and hanging at upper levels. Writhing bloody animals, grotesque suffering humans, and flying angels oozed through modern scenarios of freeways, tall buildings, nuclear power plants, digital screens, and storms. The medieval elements emerged in the modern scenes like the unconscious mind becoming conscious.

  Nobody said anything; they just stared. After twenty minutes, Sarah realized she was viewing a hellish underworld, a suffering middle world, and a transcendent upper world of light and uplifted angelic beings. This activated the Underworld flow in her lower body and simultaneously lifted her soul into transcendence. Finally she said, “These are magnificent, magnificent. You depict the struggle we all have—the agony of life and the higher elements that give us hope. These paintings will awaken people’s consciousness by forcing them to consider evil influences.”

  Jennifer had no idea what to say. Finally she said, “These are fantastic, but is this what comes out of you as a Catholic, I assume since you are Italian?”

  “Yes, of course I am Catholic,” Armando replied, smiling. “But these ideas are not inspired by the Church. These are the universal elements in our consciousness. I paint them to exorcise deep fear, to free us from possession so that we can take the next evolutionary step. We are all in the apocalypse now exposing hell, transforming our world, and transmuting to higher realms.”

  “Armando,” Simon broke in, “these are truly great, so honest. But for them to create change, many people must see them. Are you selling them? Are you doing any big shows?” While he said that, he was thinking the paintings helped him understand Armando better. What a tortured soul he is.

  “Thank you, Simon,” he said. “I just had a major show in Florence, and two-thirds of these were sold, two of them to museums. I have a show coming up at a new gallery for modern art in Rome. I was very nervous about how the dealers would respond to such a radical shift, but I’ve simply lost interest in painting landscapes. Fortunately, I had previously sold enough to persuade the dealers to give my new work a try. So far these paintings have been received more enthusiastically than my landscapes ever were. The show in Florence ended and I’ve gathered them here for the show in Rome. I think people will come to see them, since they are hungry for real art, art that expresses the complexity of life. Not all the reviewers like them, but the reviews were mostly positive.”

  Jennifer contemplated his work. With the ability to express such artistic majesty, what is this guy like inside? He must be really sexual and deeply emotional. Armando is obviously not boring. I bet he’s a real handful but my brother seems to like him. She looked over to Simon and noticed he was watching her. I bet he wonders what I think. She said to Armando, “How do you feel after you paint one of these? I think I would get all stirred up, maybe feel crazy. Your work is intense, apocalyptic, and very multidimensional. After a morning in this studio, how do you eat a tuna fish sandwich for lunch?” She spoke very earnestly because she really wanted to know. Sarah suppressed a snorting giggle, and Armando roared with laughter at the thought of eating a tuna fish sandwich after painting the apocalypse all morning.

  “Forgive us, but the juxtaposition of this art with a tuna fish sandwich is very funny,” Armando replied. Jennifer joined in and they all doubled over with mirth, releasing the high tension from studying such disturbing art. Armando put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her firmly, which she really liked. He said, “You know what? That’s the most effective comic relief I’ve ever had, even though Italians rarely eat tuna sandwiches! To answer your real question, it is often very difficult to transition back into the mundane world after I’ve painted one of these. That’s why I spend so much time up here when I’m painting. “

  41

  The Fonte Gaia

  “Can we steal away together tonight?” Armando asked as he and Jennifer walked by the grape fields after lunch. “Tomorrow I will be our guide in Siena, but may I take you out to dinner tonight? Rosia is nearby, a little town with a nice bar with a good chef who wanted to escape Rome. I haven’t been there for a while, and I’d love to take you.” He stopped walking and took her hand, engaging her eyes. Jennifer felt like she was walking by the side of a swan.

  “I’d love to, but are you sure the others won’t mind?”

  “Well,” he replied, “we run our house so that people can go their own way. Our chef prepares the meals and all we do is tell her how many people will come. Our tour of Siena tomorrow will be very ambitious, and I am sure you will be constantly taking pictures. So we deserve a night out! I’m sure my parents would love some extra time with Sarah and Simon. My mother is very intrigued with Simon, and Pietro is determined to tell Sarah all about his Gnostic research, since he found some translations paid for by Lorenzo di Medici hidden away by our ancestors in the upper library. They probably were sequestered there in the 1550s before the Jesuits led a campaign against Sienese heretics that caused the horrific book burning in the Piazza di San Francesco. My parents have read Simon’s articles, so they have more than enough to talk about.”

  Jennifer was more than happy to agree.

  When Simon lea
rned of their plans, he wanted to tell Jennifer everything he knew about Armando, just to prepare her, but Sarah convinced him not to. “Your sister is not me, and he is a different man now,” she said. “Let them have an evening together without the shadow of his past. If he doesn’t tell her himself, then you can.” Simon reluctantly agreed.

  Oltre Il Giardino was in a charming restored stone house with a terrace oriented to the setting sun. They sat on a bench at a simple wooden table with the western view. The low sun bathed the landscape in magical golden light while breezes rustled cypress and olive trees. Armando left her for a moment to get two glasses of red table wine, and then he sat behind her on the bench with his legs to either side. They were alone. He moved very close to her back while she gazed at the sunset; his soft breath tickled her bare shoulder.

  He said, “I have some things to say because you will be here for only a few more days. Then you will go back to Paris and I might never see you again.” He moved even closer. His taut thighs cradled hers. She turned her head to face him, saying nothing. Her face bronzed by golden light was exotic, Persian. “Perhaps I should kiss you on your neck instead of talking to you?” he murmured, intoxicated by the nearness of her wine-reddened lips and breathing in the scent of her hair.

  “You said there is something you want to say?” She bored into his eyes as if she knew everything about him.

  “Of course, yes, we must talk. I must be honest about myself. I don’t know what Simon has told you about me?” He paused, wondering if she would make things easier.

  She replied circumspectly, “We are a family of few words, and we rarely discuss a person we’ve just met. I have been here a few days, and I didn’t know you existed until I arrived. I’ve noticed Simon and Sarah feel connected to you. You must be easy to connect with, since Simon is very ambitious and does not usually take the time to cultivate friends. I don’t really know Sarah that well yet, but I think she’s kind-hearted and rarely speaks negatively. So Armando, what’s eating you? I see it in your eyes now, and I saw it in your paintings.” She turned all the way around to face him, keeping some distance between them. “I perused a book on the history of Siena in your library. Do you have the Sienese madness, everybody’s excuse for the annual Palio?”

  Now what do I say? “Well, we will discuss our famous madness tomorrow, since it always comes up. You say they have not told you about me, so I am free to say what I think is important.” Her eyes were dark brown with yellow flecks around large pupils, raptor eyes. He glanced at the chiseled indentations below her cheekbones that accentuated her strong jaw. He’d never dated a Jewish woman before or even thought he would want to, but times had changed and he found he didn’t care at all. After all, some of my early ancestors, who were forced to convert to Christianity to save their lives, were Jewish. He grazed her cheek delicately with his fingers while holding her gaze. Shivers ran through her torso up to her neck.

  He said, “I am forty-one and never married. I proposed only once, to Sarah. She turned me down, and now we are good friends.” I see that knowing spark in her eyes. She already sensed it, so I had to tell her. “I have been a rake most of my life, and I am not exaggerating. But I recently finally had a breakthrough after more than ten years in analysis when I accessed a very dark part of myself. By becoming conscious of it, I loosened its grip. Maybe I did have Sienese madness? There are many things I have done that I am not proud of, but that is finished and I am trying to make amends.” Sweetness came into his eyes and mellowed his face.

  Jennifer said, “Thank you for telling me you proposed to Sarah; what man wouldn’t? What a natural beauty she is and she seems to be angelic. Do you and Simon have the same taste in women? Just a moment ago when you spoke of your past, your facial expression was like your mother’s beautiful face. I wish I could capture her whimsical charm on film, her childlike feminine nuances. I like your father and mother a lot; your heritage intrigues me. I don’t care much about what you’ve been doing before now, unless there is a pack of illegitimate children? I hope you don’t care what I’ve done; I’m thirty-two years old and an adventurous woman. We will both know more about this as we get to know each other. Is there anything else you want to say?”

  Her forthrightness surprised him yet again. He was resisting her because he was still integrating his recently attained insights, yet she penetrated his fog. I am disarmed because I don’t know how to seduce her! Oh, what the hell, why not just say it? “Jennifer, I have been dreaming about you for weeks.” Even longer, if he were completely honest, but he didn’t want to scare her away.

  Jennifer’s eyes widened slightly. She paused a few moments before responding. “Are you sure you were dreaming of me? Do you think you might recognize your feminine nature in me?”

  Armando considered. “Maybe so, but why would I be dreaming about you and then you show up? This encounter is fated and will change our lives.”

  She knew there was nothing more to say. She reached for his taut neck, turned her face up to his, and they kissed long and passionately, savoring the taste of one another. When they pulled back to search each other’s eyes, they were both surprised by the potent sexual force they felt. He stood her up and pressed her to himself to explore the shape and curves of her strong, slender body. They breathed together. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head slightly to free himself from the spell their kiss had cast on both of them. “Let’s go into the dining room for dinner; I hear the bell.”

  They were served various courses of la cucina Toscana—bruschetta a pomadoro, risotto con zucchini e ricotta, and bistecca Florentina. She ate with abandon, obviously enjoying her food, and watching her made him wonder what she’d be like in bed. For her part, she detected his sexual hunger in the way he bit things. Though her own desire was volcanic, she wanted to savor this phase before basking in sensual delight. Armando was enjoying the smooth skin of her arms and hands and her perfect long neck. Her short skirt revealed her strong upper thighs, and he smelled her aroma. Despite his strong attraction to her, the lizard remained dormant while his heart beat with true joy. For once the attraction was more than physical for him. It was something deeper, something he had glimpsed with Claudia and Sarah but that had been smothered at the time by his unresolved past. After tiramisu was served, he captured her eyes and moved his hand onto her thigh, pushing it slowly up her leg. She put her fork and knife down on the plate, reached for his hand, and held it in hers. “Armando, I want to know you much better before, much better.”

  “Ah, then I will come to Paris in a few weeks! May I come to see you there?”

  “Of course you can,” she said, smiling at him enigmatically. “Anytime you want to, and there is a very special boutique hotel near my apartment.”

  Armando, Simon, Sarah, and Jennifer were up with the rising sun in the morning for a guided tour of Siena. Armando’s family background meant he could take them to places that most tourists never see. Because ancient families such as the Pierleonis had preserved many elements of the Italian medieval synthesis, Siena contained the living remains of one of the most esoteric and complex alchemical cultures in the world.

  They all piled into the car and Guido dropped them off on the edge of the old city, as cars were not allowed in the center. They wandered along narrow medieval streets looking into the shop windows and studying features of the ancient buildings, and then they came through a narrow alley that opened into the Piazza del Campo, the heart of the city. Armando and Jennifer had been traipsing along hand-in-hand like happy four-year-olds, a situation that had not escaped Simon’s attention. But now Armando released Jennifer’s hand because it was time to guide.

  He began, “This piazza, Il Campo, was an open marketplace before the twelfth century, before that probably an Etruscan settlement, and the area has evidence of the ancient people since there are cyclopean walls in nearby Vetulonia, the inspiration for Castel Vetulonia to honor the Etruscans of this region. This piazza is one of the best-preserved original town centers in E
urope, very protected since 1928. As you may know, there are seventeen ancient districts, or contrade, within Siena. Each group is represented by its own animal symbol. Here a bareback horse race among the contrade, the Palio di Siena, has been held twice a year for hundreds of years. It is wild, dangerous, sometimes bloody, and very medieval. Some say our people are all a bit mad, yet the Palio discharges our madness, the famous Sienese madness every year. Each contrade has a horse stall and a chapel in Siena, and I will take you to my family’s meeting place in a few moments. Of course, we also have clubs and apartments up there in the upper floors of the buildings, and if any of you visit during the Palio, we will be up there for the view. First we go to the Fonte Gaia at the midpoint of nine divisions in the pavement, where there is very strong magnetism.”

  They strolled together to one edge of the piazza to a square fountain fed by aqueducts, while he continued. “The piazza is shell-shaped with ten sectors of red brick divided by nine long white travertine lines that fan out from the fountain. Being in the piazza is like being in a great shell.” Near the fountain, Sarah felt nauseated and wondered if the morning sickness was coming back. She said, “Armando, I feel so much strong earth energy around this fountain, but the fountain can’t be what’s causing it. It looks so, well, very Catholic.”

  Armando smiled. “Ah, yes, Sarah, exactly. You expected to find a mermaid in the shell? The original fifteenth-century nude statues by Jacopo della Quercia were replaced because they were too pagan. This is unfortunate because the original ones may have balanced the strong energy here that gets whipped into frenzy during the race. Quercia carved the Madonna and Child, protector of Siena, surrounded by two female nude statues of Rhea Silvia and Acca Laurentia, the mother and wet nurse of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome. The original ones are now in the Ospedale di St. Maria della Scala in the Piazza Duomo, and I hope they will be brought back here someday. The feeling here is very emotionally intense, and if we use Claudia’s model of the nine dimensions, right here we are in the fifth dimension. Oh well, at least the original shape of the piazza has been retained and the fountain is in the fifth section. Claudia says this ancient piazza has very pure access to the nine dimensions that she first decoded here, so exchanging the statues interfered with access to higher levels.”