Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga

by Patzer, Mirella Sichirollo

  “The child has a ribbon around the neck,” she said, as she supported the child’s head with one hand and removed the ornament with the other. “There’s a ring on it!” She raised it to get a better look, and then cast her father a sidelong glance of utter disbelief. The gold jewel glittered against a shaft of light from the open window. The child’s cries continued unabated, so she handed the ring to her father and continued to undress the foundling.

  Salvo examined the thick circle of gold. “The ring is marked with the letter ‘B’ which I suspect is likely a family ring. It is large and heavy…artfully crafted, too. It definitely once belonged to a person of means.”

  “If anyone can assess the value of a gem, I know it is you,” Vincenza said. “It’s a girl.”

  The child flailed her arms and legs, her cries robust.

  “She must be hungry, and I just finished nursing,” Vincenza said. “But I’ll try again. I might have enough milk to feed her too.”

  Salvo searched the basket and withdrew a vessel. He removed the cover and makeshift nipple, and sniffed. He poured a little of the contents into the palm of his hand, dipped his finger into it, and tasted it. “It is goat’s milk and it’s still fresh. You can use it if need be.” He set the jar on the trestle table. “And look, there’s swaddling here too.” He handed a neatly folded stack of cloths to her.

  “Let me try to nurse the infant first, poor creature, if only to console her.”

  Vincenza carried the howling mite to the chair by the window. Almost immediately, the baby’s head bobbed in search of the breast. Vincenza guided her nipple into the little mouth. The moment the infant latched on, it sucked heartily. “She was hungry.” Within moments, the child in her arms had drained Vincenza’s near-empty breasts and shrieked anew.

  Salvo handed her the goat’s milk. Vincenza dipped the knotted cloth into the milk and dropped a little at a time into the newborn’s mouth. She repeated the process until satisfied, the orphan’s eyes closed. Vincenza rested the drowsy child against her chest to burp it. After a hearty belch, the little girl fell asleep. She laid her into the basket and covered her with the brocade blanket.

  “Where did you find her?”

  Salvo ran his fingers through his hair. “I never expected such a thing to happen to me.”

  Vincenza listened without interruption as he relayed the details of his discovery.

  “Why didn’t you take the baby to the abbey? I think whoever abandoned the baby wanted the sisters to find her.”

  “The sisters were only rising. The abbess is strict about attendance at morning prayers. My immediate thought was to care for the child temporarily, so I brought her home to you first.”

  Vincenza reached for the ring that lay beside the basket. “Who do you think this could belong to?”

  Salvo shook his head. “It’s of the finest workmanship. When I worked as a goldsmith, I don’t remember seeing or crafting such a ring.”

  Vincenza rubbed her fingers against the silk ribbon. “It’s of the richest quality, and the burgundy and gold blanket is made with the most beautiful silk I’ve ever seen. Whomever these items belonged to must have purchased them from somewhere far from here. I’ve never seen anything like them here in Sant’Andrea Montecchio ’s market.”

  “It’s obvious this child was born to someone of high degree.”

  Vincenza nodded. “Well, they must have wanted whoever found the child to know it.”

  “Why would someone of means abandon their own child like this, in a tree in the dark of night?”

  “Perhaps the child is illegitimate?”

  “Most likely.” Salvo pulled out a chair and sat. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Poor little thing. If I could, I would love to keep her.”

  “You cannot be serious, Papa. The child is clearly meant to go to the abbey.”

  Salvo swallowed hard. “Only a thought. I have much to atone for. Perhaps God is giving me a way to correct the wrongs I’ve committed.”

  “You? Wrongs? I have never known you to be unkind to anyone.”

  “You do not know me or my past. I have kept my secrets well. Maybe it’s time I told you.” He paused and looked at her with eyes glazed with distress. “The person I wronged was you.”

  24

  Salvo watched Vincenza tuck her hands beneath her apron and wait for him to speak. He sat back in his chair to let his long-buried memories resurface. “My earliest memories were of sitting beside my father learning how to shape gold. Thus, I learned a goldsmith’s craft, just as my father learned it from my grandfather. I had a natural talent and an eye for detail. Rings, pendants, drinking vessels, I created with exquisite detail. My future held great promise.”

  Vincenza smiled. “And then you met Mamma.”

  Salvo conjured his late wife’s beautiful, smiling face, the way she looked the first time he saw her in her father’s shoe-making shop. He closed his eyes to re-envision that moment. “Wind and sun danced around her long, unbound tresses, the color of newly harvested chestnuts. When she smiled, it was as if the world ceased to be. Time stood still. As we looked at each other, I knew without doubt that I wanted her as my wife. She was as necessary to my survival as the air I breathed and the water I drank. I learned she had come to retrieve her father’s shoes. To savor every moment with her, I offered to carry the shoes home for her. Two days later, I asked her father for her hand in marriage. He readily granted his blessings, for not only had I earned a small fortune from the gold objects I designed, but I had built a reputation as an honest, hardworking man.”

  His heart swelled at the memory of the early years of their marriage. “To my delight, I soon became the father of a beautiful daughter we named Vincenza.” He smiled indulgently at her. “We were very happy then, but life has a way of veering in unexpected directions. Our idyllic life came to a halt when I received a call to arms in the war against Siena. The brutality and bloodshed still haunts my dreams.” He glanced down at his right arm and raised it. “A blow from a broadsword ruined my life. The slash cut deep, severing my thumb and most of the flesh beneath it almost to my wrist. I thank God every day the wound did not putrefy. Amputation had been unnecessary. But you have heard all this before.”

  “It matters not to me whether I hear it a hundred times more. It is part of who you are and I love you.”

  “I do not deserve your love.”

  “Never say such a thing.”

  Salvo choked back his tears and sat on the chair opposite her. He dragged it closer until their knees touched. “When you hear all that I have to say, you might change your mind.” He paused and took a deep breath. “The physical wound did not hurt me as much as the loss of my craft. I could no longer grasp goldsmith’s tools. Your mother did her best to care for my wound, but nothing healed my spirit. I withdrew into a melancholy so deep and dark, no hope for relief survived. Soon, we ran out of money. Left with no alternative, your mother worked so that we could eat. She baked bread, made cheese, sold eggs at the market, and kept our clothes neatly patched. The pittance she earned sustained us enough to keep our hunger at bay.”

  “I never recall being without, Papa.”

  “We always saw to your needs first. For several years, your mother toiled while I grew more despondent. Five summers passed and despite my lack of attention and your mother’s heavy workload, you thrived.”

  Salvo swallowed the lump of emotion trapped in his throat. “Then one day, your mother got sick with such a strong fever that she immediately took to her bed. Within two days, the fever killed her. I plummeted even further into despair. Guilt overtook me. Knowing that my selfishness caused her death was more than I could bear. Self-loathing gave me the pluck to do what I should have done years before.” He took Vincenza by the hand.

  She accepted it willingly and gave an encouraging squeeze.

  “With a heavy heart, I took you to the church and bade you to sit on a bench. Beside you, I placed your favorite blanket and a folded note
. You smiled at me with such trust that I nearly fell to my knees weeping. My hands trembled when I took your little hands in mine. I will never forget the words we exchanged that day… ‘Whatever happens, Vincenza, know that I love you more than anyone or anything. Do you understand? Will you remember this?’ You lifted your face to mine and nodded. ‘Your Papa has to go away for a while. I want you to wait here in the church until one of the sisters finds you.’ Your eyes welled with tears and you begged to go with me.”

  Salvo searched her face, met the sadness in her eyes, and it sent shame coursing through him. He summoned the audacity to go on, for he had yet to reveal the worst of it. “‘You cannot come with me, Vincenza, but know that I will always be here watching over you. Can you be a brave girl for your Papa?’ My heart broke to speak such words to you. I offered to let you light a candle as a way to prolong our last moments together.”

  “You wanted to abandon me?” Vincenza shook her head in disbelief.

  Salvo heaved a sigh and fixed his eyes on her. “I know this is not easy for you to hear. This is why I kept this from you all this time. If it is difficult for you, I shall stop.”

  With a stone face, she said, “No, I want to hear it.”

  “Very well. Where was I?”

  “The lighting of the candle.”

  “Ah, si. So, I took you by the hand and led you to an altar in a niche at the side of the church where we each lit a candle. Afterwards, I swept you up into my arms and clutched you to my chest. Even now, I still remember how wonderful you smelled, the scent of childhood, of fresh air and sunshine. I tried to convey a lifetime of love into your soul. How long we stood there, I do not remember, but I finally released you and we returned to the bench. One last caress of your cheek, and with my eyes blurred by tears, I walked away. I felt your gaze bore into my back with every step. How I hated myself, but you deserved a better life than I could provide. I had failed, not only as a husband and father, but also as a man. You would be better off with the good sisters of the abbey. They would give you everything I could not.”

  Salvo paused once more. He rubbed his arm, the agony of retelling as excruciating as that in his injured limb.

  Vincenza waited in silence, giving him the time he needed to gather his emotions and continue, and he loved her for it.

  “I paused at the entrance doors and almost changed my mind, but my desire for you to have a better life helped me keep my resolve, so I pushed open the door and ran out. Deep despair held me in its grip. Outside, I bumped into an elderly woman on the church steps. She studied me with her sharp, piercing eyes. Ashamed, I hurried away and in a trance, found my way home. My mind reeled as I plotted my demise, eager for death’s release.”

  Vincenza’s hand flew to her open mouth. “Papa, no.”

  “When I arrived home I formed my thickest rope into a noose and looped it over that beam up there in the ceiling.” He pointed to the center beam that ran across the entire room. “I put a stool beneath it that wobbled when I stood on it. A strange peace came over me as I arranged the noose around my neck and tightened it. I looked round for what I believed to be the last time. Laughter and bliss once filled the house, but in that moment, only sadness remained. Forgive me, I whispered to God as I made the sign of the cross. I summoned my nerve, and with every muscle in my body tense, I stepped off.”

  Vincenza took hold of his hand, her grip taut.

  “Pain shot through my neck. I could not breathe. My body twitched and my lungs hurt. I deserved the horrific ache. My vision blurred and all light faded. A pleasant serenity settled over me. Then, as if the sound came from a distance, I heard a loud snap. The rope broke. My body slammed onto the floor. Air blasted into my lungs. I coughed and choked, then rolled onto my side and curled into a ball, sobbing like a baby. Even in death, I was a failure.”

  “Do not think such a thing. You were never a failure to me.”

  “Maybe not now, but back then it was the truth. How long I remained in that position I did not know, but I wept until I purged myself of all feeling. Afterwards, a stark clarity remained. The realization dawned that God did not mean for me to die. I was meant to live; to endure whatever tribulation came to me, to discover the true purpose of my life. My courage was renewed. Somehow, I managed to rise to my feet. Still coughing, I ran back to the church and burst through the doors. There, at the front of the church, you sat exactly where I had left you. Beside you was the woman I had bumped into on the steps earlier. When you turned around and saw me there, the high-pitched cry of your voice broke through the quiet in the church. I swept you up into my arms and wept. To inhale your sweet scent, to caress your hair once more, was my greatest pleasure. Do you remember what you said then?”

  “No, Papa, I do not recall any of this.”

  “Good, that is very good. I knew you would come back, Papa. Those were your exact words. Even at your tender age, you were wiser. I promised never to leave you again. It was then that I looked at the old woman. She stared at the marks on my neck. I raised my hand to shield the evidence of my greatest folly. She cast me an admonishing look. Then her expression softened and she blinked as if to tell me she understood. She noticed my crippled arm and when her eyes met mine again, she smiled at me and told me my fortunes would change, and that I must be grateful for what I have and make the most of each day. I swore I could hear her bones creak as she rose to her feet and ambled out of the church. Her words gave me hope, and I took them to heart as I led you home.”

  Tears ran freely down Vincenza’s cheeks and she flung herself into her father’s arms. He held her tight and ran his hand down her unbound hair. “Hush, now, I do not deserve your tears. Dry them, child, and let us look towards the future, to the life God has put in our charge.”

  She pulled away and nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I understand now why you brought the child to me, why you hesitated to bring the child to the abbey. Maybe we should keep the child?”

  “At first, I thought we should too, but then I realized it would be difficult enough with your own infant to care for. How can you care for two? Besides, whoever left the child in the olive tree meant for her to belong to the abbey.”

  “I will find a way, Papa. If you cannot bear to abandon her...” Her bottom lip quivered.

  Salvo embraced her. “I am being foolish. We are not abandoning her. Bringing her to the abbey is the best thing we can do for her. The person who left her in the olive tree intended for it to be so. If she were your flesh and blood, wouldn’t you want her to be raised in the best circumstances?”

  Vincenza nodded through tear-filled eyes. She walked to the trestle table and peered into the basket. Lovingly, she ran her fingers across the sleeping infant’s pink cheek.

  Salvo knew a bond had already formed between his daughter and the foundling. “For now, care for the infant the best you can.”

  She gave him a concerned look as he walked towards the door.

  “I’ll return later,” he said.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To speak with the abbess.”

  25

  Cosma waited behind the fountain in the courtyard. The man had not yet come out of the house. What could he be doing in there with the infant? How could she have been so foolish as to leave the child in the tree? She should have tried the church doors to see if they were unlocked and set the basket inside. She chided herself for her folly.

  The morning sun had risen higher in the sky and the summer heat warmed the world. Her limbs felt unusually weak. Her vision blurred and faded in endless repetition. She sat on the ground beneath the shade of the basin, plagued by nausea. Her throat burned and her head continued its relentless pounding, stronger than before. She must see the child safely into the abbey. Only then could she return home and rest.

  A door creaked open. Cosma looked up. The man departed in the direction of the abbey, but without the basket. Dio, he had left the little one in the house. Now what must she do? She must wait unti
l she knew what fate befell the baby.

  As the townsfolk awoke and began going about their daily work, they glanced at her curiously. A woman walking past with two children cast a nervous glance at her. A young girl from a nearby house threw slops from a window. A man yelled at his son for improperly hitching a donkey to a cart filled with vegetables. To avoid anyone approaching her, she kept her hood raised and tried to appear casual, as if she were a traveler who had merely paused to rest. She did not want anyone to recognize her, for she had been called here as midwife and healer several times.

  She glanced at the house. Although a window was open, she could neither hear anything nor see any movement within. Where was the child? Who was inside the house? She had to know, so she decided to knock on the door and ask for water.

  Cosma stumbled across the courtyard to the house. She rapped on the door twice. Her heart raced, and nausea rose. She vomited on the doorstep, lost her balance, and collapsed.

  26

  Salvo waited at the back of the church while the priest celebrated Mass. He kept his eyes on the abbess, who stood near the front with her back to him. Her ivory veil and light grey habit contrasted with the dark brown worn by the nuns scattered throughout the nave. He must speak with her.

  Never had mass seemed so long. Salvo could not concentrate. Thoughts of the child tossed about in his mind. After the final blessing and the recessional, Salvo waited for the abbess to pass by, but when she did, several sisters surrounded her. He must catch her before she passed through the doorway into the abbey that would lock them in. “Reverend Mother,” he called out as he walked a brisk pace beside the nuns. She did not seem to hear him. “Reverend Mother, I must speak with you,” he called out even louder.

  This time she faced him, her countenance pinched with slight annoyance, which quickly faded as she took in his agitation. “Is something the matter, Signore Fortunato?”