Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga

by Patzer, Mirella Sichirollo

  “And you like a mother.”

  Cosma's heart swelled with tenderness. Although she was alone in the world, sharing a roof with Salvo, Vincenza, and the baby had brought her much pleasure, a sense of mattering to someone. Vincenza had tended to her skillfully and showed a strong interest in gathering and preparing herbs both for herself and for Salvo. An idea came to mind. “Vincenza, I am an old woman with much knowledge. You are a widow with a child to care for. Would you consider coming to live with me? Together we can care for Gianni. I can teach you the skills of a midwife; how to prepare healing herbs for those in need. The work will not make you rich, but it will feed and clothe you and the child. The work is rewarding. What say you? I have seen how you cared for me. You would make an excellent midwife and healer.”

  Vincenza wiped the dough from her hands and glanced at the crib where her son slept. She glanced between Cosma and her father hesitantly.

  “My home is not large, but it can easily accommodate you and your son,” Cosma added. “The people you tend will pay what they can, and it will be more than enough to sustain us. Costalpino is only an hour’s walk from Sant’Andrea Montecchio . You will still be near your father.”

  Salvo rose from the chair and stood before Vincenza. “It is a wonderful opportunity you are being offered. I think you should take it.”

  “But what about you? Who will take care of you?”

  “Do not worry about me. As you know, part of my wages at the church includes meals prepared by the nuns. Anything else, I can take care of myself.”

  Vincenza raised her brows. “And the washing too? Somehow I cannot picture you at the river bank with the women on washday.”

  Salvo opened his mouth for a retort, but Vincenza interrupted him. “I will come to visit once or twice a week and I can take your laundry.”

  “Then there is nothing stopping you,” Salvo said. “I will even accompany you there to help you carry Gianni and whatever else you may need.”

  A glimmer appeared in Vincenza's eyes and her countenance brightened. “Since my husband died, I have been sick with worry about how I will support myself and my son. I did not wish to burden you, Papa. Now Cosma has given me hope for the future.”

  “Then it is settled.” Cosma spread her arms wide and Vincenza ran into them. “We can leave as soon as you are ready.”

  29

  Prudenza stood at her villa’s entrance. She tapped her foot impatiently while waiting for Enrico and Felicia to arrive. One hand shielded her eyes as she scanned the landscape for a glimpse of them, but the long, tree-lined path between their properties was deserted. Nothing stirred, not even the leaves on the massive olive tree in their front courtyard.

  A month had passed since she had given birth. Now that she was ready to be churched, she could finally leave her home. She was anxious for Giustina’s baptism and for them both to receive the Church’s blessing. Then her life could return to normal.

  The new Church of Sant’Bartolomeo in Sant’Andrea Montecchio was little more than an hour’s walk away, but the morning sun already burned hot, making the distance seem even longer. Not even the birds trilled their songs. Nothing brought a reprieve from the heat. A drop of sweat trickled down between her breasts and her new silk gown already felt damp and clung to her uncomfortably.

  Carlo walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and leaned over her shoulder. “It will do you no good to stand here. Come back inside where it is cooler. We’ll wait for Enrico and Felicia together.”

  Prudenza faced him. “It’s bad enough they are to be Giustina’s godparents; they insult us by being late.”

  Carlo closed his eyes for a long moment and inhaled a breath as if to give him patience. “Cara, we’ve discussed this too many times already. Enrico is like a brother to me. There is no other man I would have as Giustina’s godfather. Besides, we stood as godparents to their sons, so it’s only right we ask them to stand for our daughter.”

  Prudenza opened her mouth to argue, but Carlo silenced her with his finger across her lips. “Hush, I don’t need to be reminded that you didn’t want to be Luca’s and Lorenzo’s godmother. I wish you would forget all about that foolish scandal surrounding Felicia. She has denied it from the start and has suffered much because of the rumors. To tell you the truth, I have come to believe her. She is not the type to put horns on her husband. I wish you would find it in your heart to rise above the discord and welcome a friendship with her. It would go a long way toward helping her restore her respectability among the villagers.”

  “Our daughter will be scorned by all of Costalpino to have that unchaste, promiscuous woman for a godmother.”

  Carlo inhaled an exasperated sigh and looked over towards Enrico’s villa. “They’re coming. Try not to worry so much and put a smile on your face. This is a special day for you and Giustina, and nothing should mar it.”

  “I’m going inside to fetch her.” Prudenza hastened into the villa to avoid any further discussion. She was in no mood to listen to Carlo’s never-ending attempts to encourage a friendship with Felicia. The more she kept her distance from Felicia, the better. Besides, seeing Felicia reminded her of having given away her baby and she would prefer to concentrate on more pleasant matters.

  Inside, it was only slightly cooler. Giustina slept soundly in a small cradle. Prudenza lifted the baby into her arms and covered her with an embroidered coverlet in a pale rose color. Giustina startled, her little arms stretching out before her. Then she quickly resettled into a sound sleep.

  Neatly folded on a small trestle table near the front door was Prudenza’s new white damask veil she needed to wear for the churching. She grabbed it with her free hand and stepped outside. A blast of heat rushed her. Felicia and Enrico stood conversing with Carlo beneath the shade of the olive tree. At her appearance, all three glanced over.

  “Buon giorno, Prudenza, it’s a beautiful day, is it not?” Enrico smiled.

  “A little too hot, if you ask me,” Prudenza grumbled and averted her eyes. She hated having to look at Enrico’s scarred face almost as much as she detested her husband’s lameness. “But I suppose it’s better than a cold winter’s day.”

  Prudenza ignored Carlo’s reproachful look and studied Enrico from head to toe. Ever since the birth of his twin sons, Enrico had lost weight. His once-round face had thinned, which drew attention to the long scar on his cheek. She rarely saw him without a goblet of wine in his hand. A twinge of guilt burgeoned inside her, which she immediately stifled. She had brought about much of the couple’s unhappiness by telling everyone their twin sons were from different fathers, a necessary but bald-faced lie. It was too late to change anything now. No one must ever learn her secret.

  Felicia gave her a half-hearted smile. “Buon giorno, Prudenza.” She took a tentative step forward. “May I see the baby?”

  Prudenza obliged and lifted the coverlet a little, carefully using it as a shield against the harsh sunlight.

  “Oh, your daughter is beautiful and she sleeps like an angel. You must be very proud,” Felicia exclaimed.

  Prudenza secretly made a fist and pressed her thumb between her index and middle finger to protect Giustina from the compliment and the evil eye. A small golden horn was pinned to her daughter’s baptismal garment, an additional charm to keep her safe from envious praise. She would not take any chances. Stupid Felicia should know better than to pay an infant a compliment. Another reason to dislike that woman!

  Prudenza managed a weak smile through pressed lips. Such pleasantries irked her, but she did her best to feign cordiality. “And your sons? You did not bring them?”

  Felicia’s face clouded with discomfort. “I thought it best to leave them at home with the wet nurse.”

  “That is likely a wise decision,” Prudenza said. “I have heard them crying at all hours of the night and day. They must be so difficult for you to manage.” It pleased her to see Felicia’s cheeks turn scarlet at the comment.

  Prudenza roamed d
iscerning eyes over her neighbor, taking in how she had changed since the birth of her sons. Felicia was gaunt, her hair lackluster and lifeless. Sadness marred her once comely appearance and she seemed to have withered beneath her skin. Even the vivid blue of her over-tunic failed to bring any color into her cheeks.

  Prudenza, however, took great pride in her own restored figure and good health so soon after pregnancy.

  “Well, then, if all is ready, let’s depart,” Carlo said. “Prudenza has prepared quite a feast for when we return.” Carlo allowed Prudenza to lead the way to the awaiting wain. Its canopy would shade them from the sun and pillows lining the seats would make journeying over the rutted dirt road more comfortable.

  Much to Prudenza’s displeasure, Nanino sat in the driver’s seat, the conveyance’s reins clutched between his stubby fingers. Not only must she suffer the heat, now she must endure the smell of onions emanating from that odious little man. One of these days, she would insist the dwarf bathe himself in lemon water to remove the smell from his body.

  As she walked, her new linen under-tunic flowed behind her and dragged over the small pebbles and dirt of the road. She had specifically ordered the cutter of clothes to hem the garment so that it would not trail. She would scold her about it the next time she ordered a gown – if there was a next time. She may have to find someone new.

  Carlo stepped up into the conveyance and took Giustina from her arms. Enrico helped Prudenza up first and then Felicia, before leaping aboard himself. The couples faced each other on either side of the wain. Nanino slapped the reins and the bay gelding set off down the road.

  The ride to Sant’Andrea Montecchio seemed to take longer than usual. The canopy provided little reprieve from the heat. Not a cloud lingered in the sky. Animals in the pastures looked up drowsily as they passed.

  Despite the heat, Enrico and Carlo seemed unaffected. An easy banter flowed between them. Felicia sat in silence and Prudenza was content to do the same. Although they faced each other, they managed to avoid eye contact. Giustina continued to sleep soundly in her arms, and Prudenza preferred to keep her in that state.

  When they arrived, as required, Prudenza covered her braided and beribboned hair with her white veil and climbed the church steps to the front door. She waited outside with Felicia while the men went inside to fetch the priest.

  Several minutes passed. “What is taking them so long?” Prudenza fanned her face with her free hand.

  “I’m sure it won’t be long now. The priest may be finishing his preparations,” Felicia offered with a tense smile.

  “I suppose so. I’ll be glad when the ceremony is over and life can return to normal.”

  Just then, Carlo and Enrico came out of the church. The priest waited just inside the doorway. “You are late,” the pudgy priest admonished. His eyes bulged like a frog.

  Prudenza felt her ire rise, and narrowed her eyes at Felicia, but she pursed her lips to prevent a retort.

  “Let us begin,” the priest announced.

  Reluctantly, Prudenza handed the baby to Felicia and climbed the steps. She knelt before the priest for the first blessing. After this preliminary prayer, the priest raised the end of his stole and offered it to Prudenza. She took hold of it, careful not to touch him for she was still considered unclean, and let him lead her inside the church. Felicia and the baby followed with Carlo and Enrico.

  The priest walked with her through the nave to the front of the church and stopped before the altar. The smell of candle wax and wisps of incense from a previous mass or sacrament lingered in the air.

  After completing the ritual prayer to cleanse and church Prudenza, he said another long prayer and a brief blessing. The baptism followed. Then he also churched Giustina by reciting several more prayers. After making the Sign of the Cross on her forehead, mouth, and heart, the priest returned Giustina to Prudenza. After a final blessing, Prudenza breathed a sigh of relief that the boring ritual was finally over. Of all the priests she had encountered in her life, this one loved to listen to the sound of his own voice and droned on ad nauseam. They left the church and stepped out into the bright sunshine.

  A beggar woman rose from where she had been sitting at the bottom of the church steps. She stared up at them with glazed, almost hollowed black eyes. Wisps of brown hair escaped from a tattered wimple that covered her weather-hardened face below the cheeks. Beneath her threadbare and soiled wool garment, her filthy feet were bare. Numerous odd-colored patches barely covered frayed holes that ran from the top to the bottom of her over-tunic. Prudenza guessed the woman was close to her age, but her coarsened face made her appear much older.

  Felicia walked down the steps directly to her. She smiled and dropped a coin into the beggar’s soiled palm.

  The woman closed her grimy hand, with its blackened fingernails, around it. “Grazie. God’s blessings upon you, Signora,” she said as she clasped the hem of Felicia’s gown and kissed it.

  Prudenza shook her head. She covered her daughter with her veil, clutched her close, and descended the steps, careful to avoid eye contact with the vagrant. As she passed, the woman extended her hand to Prudenza.

  “Per favore, I am hungry.” The woman’s glassy stare pierced right through to her soul.

  Shuddering with a mixture of fear and disgust, Prudenza knew she would never forget that stare. Because she carried no alms and held the baby in her arms, she stepped aside to circumvent the woman. The hag grabbed hold of her hem, sat on the ground, and yanked her to a stop.

  “Please,” the woman pleaded, “have mercy.”

  “I have no alms.” Prudenza tried to pull away.

  The woman refused to let go.

  “Get your hands off me.” Prudenza cried out, her voice shrill.

  Carlo intervened and placed a coin into the woman’s hand. He then attempted to dislodge the grimy fingers from his wife’s skirts.

  The woman clutched Prudenza’s gown all the tighter and used it to pull herself to her feet. She faced Prudenza and scowled with malevolence as she tugged at the arm upon which Giustina rested.

  “Get away from me,” Prudenza yelled.

  The jostling startled Giustina and she began to wail.

  Hate filled the beggar-woman’s eyes. She leaned so close that Prudenza could smell her foul breath. The woman jabbed a mucky, twisted index finger into Prudenza’s chest.

  Horror choked her as she tried to retreat up the steps, nearly stumbling.

  The woman’s gaze narrowed as she stared and jabbed at Prudenza. “One day we shall meet again, you and me. So, bear witness to my words, you who think yourself better than others.” She formed a cross with her arms, closed her eyes, and said:

  “Daughters to you were born.

  Joy from your heart shall be torn.

  Such is the cost of the secret you keep.

  You will not rest. You will not sleep.

  Pangs of anger. Pangs of hate.

  Discord shall always be your fate.”

  In the shocked silence that followed, the beggar woman’s words seemed to echo through the streets and disappear beyond the blue-green hills outside the village. No one moved in the hot sun and no one spoke.

  Prudenza suddenly felt cold. Her heart pounded and her fingers quivered with fear. Her mouth and throat were so dry it felt as if she had swallowed a handful of dust. Her head spun, and she began to sway back and forth.

  A curse, her mind screamed. How dare that vagrant curse me! How did she know my secret? Who could have told her? That strega, Cosma must have let it slip somehow. What else did she reveal? She must find the midwife and ascertain what happened to the other baby. If Cosma had failed in her promise to bring her to a good home or did not keep her mouth shut, as she had vowed, Prudenza would make her pay dearly for the transgression.

  Bending to stare into the woman’s eyes, Prudenza’s breath came in heavy gasps and her lips curled into a snarl. Hate took hold, driving fear away. Shaking with wrath, Prudenza screamed, “How dare you sp
eak such filth!” She raised her free hand to strike the woman but Carlo gripped her wrist and stopped her.

  “Come away now,” he said in a calm voice as he put his arm over Prudenza’s shoulder. “It will do no good to harm such a poor wretch.” He faced the woman sternly. “I have given you what you sought, now leave us.”

  “Heed my words until our next encounter.” The beggar cackled. Then she ambled away down the street without glancing back.

  30

  By the time Prudenza arrived home, she was calmer. How much of the mad-woman’s prophecy had Carlo overheard? She glanced at him, but he seemed unperturbed, as if he had already forgotten the incident. She breathed a sigh of relief. He obviously suspected nothing. Determined not to dwell on the preposterous divination, a new resolve replaced her fears. She must ensure no one ever learned about her other baby. Had Cosma revealed something to the beggar woman? She must find out, and soon, but she could do nothing about it now. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Then she would concentrate on what mattered most – caring for her family, upholding their good name, and maintaining their standing in the community and beyond.

  Her composure somewhat restored, Prudenza handed Giustina to the wet nurse and went upstairs to freshen up and change into another gown, one less restrictive and formal. This one was made of a silvery blue silk trimmed at hem, arms, and neck with a band of blue roses. After a quick adjustment to her silver crespine, she hurried back down the stairs. In the kitchen, the cooks had finished with the cooking and were preparing the platters. She adjusted the flowers in two vases and carried them outside to the dining tables.

  As her guests arrived, she welcomed them with gracious smiles. Beneath the shade of several trees at the side of the villa, servants bustled about with pitchers of wine to fill goblets while everyone stood about chatting. The aroma of grilled meat wafted in the air. When everyone had arrived, Prudenza gestured for her guests to sit and eat. They feasted on sausages seasoned with garlic and herbs, pork stuffed with pine nuts, oxtail stew, roasted chicken, marinated olives, eggplant stew, and fresh fruit.