Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga

by Patzer, Mirella Sichirollo

  Luca wished the meal were over so he could escape the tension and relax privately in his own room. He also needed to check on Olivia, for he had not spoken to her all day. He drummed his fingers. How was she reacting to his family’s presence? With her time near, she had looked so fatigued that it worried him. He adjusted and readjusted his chair, unable to find comfort.

  A white-faced Rosina suddenly burst into the room. Talk ceased and all heads turned in her direction. Rosina froze.

  “Rosina! What is it?” Luca asked.

  She clutched her apron. “I must speak with you privately, Signore.”

  The first vestiges of alarm ran through Luca. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, there is a small matter in…the kitchen I must speak to you about.”

  “Finish your meal, Luca, I will go,” Felicia offered, pushing back her chair.

  “No!” Rosina said abruptly.

  Felicia frowned at the harsh response.

  “Thank you, but only Signore Luca can help me. The door to the cellar is stuck and there is a trick to open it that only he can manage,” Rosina said.

  Luca pushed back his chair and addressed the company. “Please finish your meal. I’ll only be a few moments.”

  He followed Rosina out of the room. When they were far enough from the door, he grabbed Rosina’s elbow. “What is it?” he whispered.

  “It is Olivia. The baby is coming.”

  Dread lay like a rock in his guts. “You are certain?”

  “Of course I am certain. Women know these things.”

  Luca turned to race down the corridor, but Rosina grabbed his arm to stop him.

  “You should not go to her. She is in your bedchamber.”

  “My bedchamber? What is she doing there?”

  “What do you think? She is having a baby!”

  Luca shook his head, too exasperated to try to unravel the workings of his housekeeper’s mind. Without waiting for further explanation, he turned away again, but she stopped him once more. “You cannot go in there. Someone must fetch the midwife.”

  Luca glanced out the window. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky as rain poured down in a deluge. “In this storm? The midwife lives on the other side of Siena and is too far away.” Luca broke out into a sweat. He clenched his fists and paced back and forth. “What am I to do?”

  Rosina tilted her head in the dining room’s direction. “Perhaps one of the women can help.”

  Luca gripped her shoulders. “No, that is impossible. You must keep this a secret, do you hear?” His heart thundered in his chest, his emotions running rampant. He squeezed her stronger than he intended. “I need time to think.”

  Rosina chewed on a fingernail.

  He hesitated, unsure. Then an idea came to him. “Go to the stable and fetch Nanino.”

  “You wish me to send him to fetch the midwife?”

  “No, to help Olivia.”

  “Surely you cannot be serious. He is a man. What can he do?”

  “I’m very serious. He has helped many a mare to foal. A human child cannot be that much different.”

  “But it is not proper for a man –”

  Luca raised his hand to interrupt. “He is all we have. Now go and do as I say.”

  Rosina paused.

  “Now!”

  Rosina hurried away down the hall and out of sight.

  Ignoring Rosina’s pleas not to go to Olivia, Luca took the stairs two at a time and swung the door open. He stopped in the doorway.

  She lay on his bed, ashen, moaning, her hands gripping her belly. A pool of water lay on the floor.

  “Luca,” she murmured between breaths, raising an arm to beckon him. Sweat tinged her forehead. Waves of damp hair lay like an unruly corona against the pillows. Her pallor betrayed not only fear, but also agony.

  Luca loathed himself for having brought her to this state. If she died, how could he live with himself? How could one night’s pleasure bring a woman so much agony, so close to death? If he could, he would gladly take her pain and suffer it on her behalf. Too many women died giving birth. He prayed she would survive, and if she did, he would lay the world at her feet.

  She reached out for him, as he stood numb with fear at her bedside. He took her cold fingers in his and raised them to his lips, wiping away a damp curl from her forehead with his other hand.

  “I’m frightened, Luca,” Olivia said. “The baby is coming and the midwife is not here yet.”

  She looked so vulnerable, and he so helpless. “Hush, dolcissima. You must not be afraid. You will not be alone. If need be, my mother is here, as is Prudenza. They can help if they are needed.”

  “No, not your bride’s mother.” Olivia’s voice cracked. “I could not bear it. It would be wrong to ask such a thing of her.”

  At that moment, Rosina rushed back into the room, this time with Nanino in tow. The pungent aroma of onions and horse sweat permeated the room as the small man rushed to Olivia’s bedside. “Olivia, piccolina,” Nanino said as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

  Olivia smiled tenderly, but her smile disappeared as another cramp gripped her. Her moans sliced the air.

  Rosina crossed herself. Nanino took a step back, his mouth gaping open. Luca felt the blood drain from his face.

  Nanino turned his pale face to Rosina. “You must do something!”

  Rosina shook her head and waved an index finger at Nanino. “Me? I have never delivered a child. You must deliver it.”

  Nanino’s eyes grew large. “Porca miseria! That is why you fetched me? I’ve never delivered a baby!”

  “You will tonight,” Luca said with authority. “That is why we summoned you. Because of the storm, we cannot bring the midwife here.”

  “You cannot be serious. I have no knowledge of birthing.”

  Luca gripped Nanino’s arm. “You’ve birthed many a foal. You are our only hope. Olivia needs you. Her life is in your hands. See that she comes to no harm.”

  Nanino yanked his arm away, a grimace on his scarlet face. “I have known her and loved her all my life. I would never cause her any harm!” A look of resignation came over him. He pointed at Rosina. “You will help me.”

  Luca stood in the middle of his bedroom feeling useless. He had faced down the most onerous of men, out-racing, out-lancing, out-thrusting, and out-shooting them, yet none of those manly skills could assist the woman he loved.

  Nanino appeared at his elbow. “Come away, Luca. God help me, but I give you my word I will do all that I can. Let me tend to her while you see to your family and guests. They are probably wondering what has happened. I will let you know as soon as there is any change. With horses, first births often take longer, so I suspect it is also the case with people. Olivia is like a sister to me; I will do all that I can for her.”

  Luca cast a worried glance at Olivia, who nodded weakly.

  The last thing Luca wanted was to leave, but if he did not return to the dining hall, they would begin to ask questions. Reluctantly, he nodded, kissed Olivia on the lips, and pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered.

  She smoothed his cheek with her hand. Then another contraction seized her. Arching her back, she gripped the sheets.

  “Go Luca!” Nanino shouted at him. “Rosina, fetch linens and water. Now!”

  She flashed him a pointed look and left to tend to her task.

  Luca followed her out, but he leaned against the wall. He exhaled a ragged breath and inhaled deeply to calm himself before he rejoined his guests. He could not let his anxiety show.

  Everyone stopped talking the moment he returned. All eyes turned to him. Outside, claps of thunder and the rush of rainwater against the walls of the villa, sounding louder for than usual for lack of conversation. A fire had been lit in the hearth and servants cleared the dirty dishes from the table. Only bread, pitchers of wine, and a platter of summer fruit remained.

  Luca took his seat. “I apologize for the delay, but the problem has been resolved
for now.” He raised his goblet and took a sip. He wanted to be anywhere but here, putting up a false face to make it appear all was well when it was not. All he could think about was Olivia, toiling in agony, giving birth in his bedchamber. He never could disguise his feelings. What if someone at the trestle became suspicious and began to ask questions? He must end this façade of a celebration, so he could help Olivia through her ordeal.

  Bit by bit conversation at the trestle resumed. Luca’s body may have returned to the feast, but his mind remained upstairs.

  Two servants carried in pitchers of wine and platters of honey cakes.

  Carlo and Enrico were discussing which mare to breed to their new stallion. His father’s cheeks were already red from too much wine and he slurred his words. Yet another night of watching his father embarrass his mother, he grumbled to himself.

  Felicia and Giustina entered into an exchange about what color to choose for a bedspread.

  Lorenzo twirled the stem of his goblet as he stared into its depths.

  Prudenza said very little, her glance flitting from one person to the next as if to assess each one. Did she suspect something? There was a bit of the wolf in her stare and it always left him uneasy. Tonight was no exception.

  A scream halted all conversation.

  Luca froze, fighting the urge to run to his bedchamber.

  “What was that?” Prudenza asked, setting down the pear in her hand. She glanced round. “It sounds like it came from inside the villa.”

  “To me it sounded like one of the horses in the stable. A new gelding I purchased recently is skittish. I suspect a door must have blown open and scared him.” Luca pushed back his chair and rose. “I’d best go take a look to make sure everything is secure.” He glanced over at Giustina. “The day’s journey must have been trying, and the storm does not look like it will abate soon. May I suggest we all retire for the night? We can meet tomorrow at the morning meal.”

  “I think that is a good idea,” Felicia said. “I, for one, can barely keep my eyes open.”

  Luca gave his mother a small but grateful smile and waited for the guests to disperse and climb the stairs to the next floor. He held his breath, praying no sound would come from his room to reveal the secret within.

  84

  Felicia was the first of the guests to retire from the dining hall. As she had done almost every night of her married life, she helped Enrico prepare for bed. He swayed unsteadily while she assisted him in removing his over-tunic, shirt, and braies, avoiding the fumes of stale wine emanating from his breath and clothing.

  Accustomed to her nightly ministrations, he co-operated as best he could, despite his drunkenness.

  Felicia raised the bed covers for him.

  Enrico bumped into the side of the bed, cursed unintelligibly, and then flopped down onto the wool-stuffed mattress.

  She covered him and waited for his eyes to close. The wine always brought sleep quickly. She hoped tonight would be no different.

  Throughout dinner, she had sensed something amiss with Luca. He had grimaced more than smiled. She knew he was unhappy about his marriage and she wanted to speak to him about it. The sooner Enrico fell asleep, the better. Then she could check on her son.

  Within moments, Enrico heaved a sigh and closed his eyelids. When his breathing slowed and she was certain he slept, she turned away.

  He gripped her hand. “Feleesh, why d’ya do it?” he slurred, his red-veined eyes now wide open.

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Ah, give uh, a care about me.”

  Felicia settled herself on the bed beside him, running her palm down his scarred cheek. “Because I love you. I have always loved you. You are my husband, my family, and family means everything to me. Don’t you know that by now?”

  Torment glazed his eyes. “I d’not deserve it.”

  “That may be true, marito mio, but I am all you have and I know you need me.” She bent and kissed him lightly. “Sleep now,” she whispered, running her fingers through his grey-flecked strands of golden hair.

  “Hmm,” he said drowsily, as sleep took him.

  “One day, the truth will come out,” she whispered as she looked down on his face. “Then you will see how wrong you have been, Enrico.”

  She rose and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Flames jumped and flickered in the sconces on either side of the corridor as they lit her way. She stopped in front of the last door before the circular staircase. As she put her hand on the door latch, she could hear murmurs and muffled speech coming from within, and then came the sound of one long moan, clearly that of a woman in distress. She pushed down on the latch and swung open the door.

  85

  Felicia stood transfixed, rooted in the doorway with her mouth agape. A brazier and several candles cast light in the room. For a moment, she could not believe the sight she beheld.

  A young woman, brown hair clinging to her perspiring forehead, lay in the bed, clearly in the throes of childbirth. Luca stood at her bedside, his expression fraught with worry. The woman’s hand gripped his as she moaned through a pain that suddenly seized her.

  The smell of blood and sweat and childbirth filled her nostrils. The housekeeper, Rosina, was hurrying back and forth, preparing blankets, readying a pitcher and ewer. Most outrageous of all was the sight of Nanino who peered between the poor woman’s splayed legs muttering reassurances, clearly prepared to catch the infant at the moment of birth.

  A powerful clap of thunder drowned all sounds. Rain and wind battered the house. They failed to notice her standing there.

  “This is no place for men,” Felicia exclaimed, rushing fully into the room. Neither did she want to be here, but what alternative did she have? She could not allow this young woman to suffer the indignity of having men present. She was no midwife, but she remembered lying helpless in her own sweat as contractions wracked her body. Besides, she had aided a village woman or two to deliver their children. She could help.

  All movement stopped, and all eyes turned in the direction of her voice.

  Her contraction abating, eyes wide, the pregnant woman glanced up at her.

  Luca opened his mouth to say something, but Felicia raised her hand to stop him. “Luca! You and Nanino leave now! Rosina and I will see to the young woman.”

  Luca hesitated. Nanino shook his head as though ready to protest, but another contraction gripped the woman. She let out a long, arduous groan.

  Felicia elbowed Nanino out of the way and took her position at the foot of the bed. She gave Luca a stern look. “Go now!”

  Luca glanced down at the woman in the bed. Only when she gave him a nod, did he release her hand. “This is my mother, Felicia. She will take good care of you.” He turned slowly away. At the door’s threshold, he stopped to take one last look, but Felicia gave a toss of her head, urging him and Nanino out the door like dust before a broom.

  Rosina paced the room, her footsteps heavy on the worn floorboards. The small-boned woman, broad and short, shivered with anxiety.

  Felicia touched her shoulder. The candles were burning low, throwing oblique shadows on the walls. “Fetch more candles and blankets, and then hurry back.”

  Rosina nodded and dashed from the room, her tension evident in every motion.

  Felicia gave the expectant mother a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I’ve helped deliver a child or two before. All will be well, you shall see.”

  The young woman closed her eyes, her body relaxing. “I am grateful.” Her voice trembled as she gripped the edge of the bed and moaned through another contraction.

  86

  Prudenza laid in bed, listening to the rain-laden wind howl restlessly amid the trees, gusty at first, but fading into a desolate moan. The weather matched her mood as she stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

  Carlo lay beside her. His light snores annoyed her, but her husband was not the sole cause of her insomnia. Although Luca had comported himself with
the utmost gentility, he had not been himself tonight. He seemed distracted, anxious, barely paying any attention to Giustina, as usual. Then there was that scream they all heard. Luca had tried to pass it off as a nervous whinny from the stable, but she was not so gullible. She knew a woman’s scream when she heard it.

  Outside, the thunder and lightning mingled with the steady battering of rain against the villa’s walls. She heard another scream, this one faint, muddled by the lashing storm, but undoubtedly that of a woman in distress. Something definitely was afoot and she was more determined than ever to get to the root of it.

  In the darkness, she sat up and slid her feet into her slippers. Reaching for her robe at the foot of the bed, she rose and slipped her arms into the cool silk. With both arms extended in front of her, she found her way to the door. Prudenza peered into the corridor. Candles burned in sconces, shedding enough light to see. She glanced to the left and right. No light escaped beneath the closed doors, except for one.

  Hidden in the archway’s recess, Prudenza waited and watched outside. Muffled voices came from inside the room. Though she waited long moments, no one went in or came out. At one point, she contemplated returning to bed, but curiosity prevented her. An internal voice urged her to wait. Her intuition was seldom wrong.

  From a small window at one end of the corridor, the pitch black of night emitted only a profound darkness. Dawn was still hours away. What, she asked herself, was happening inside Luca’s bedchamber?

  Moments later, she heard the latch rise. Luca exited the room, a frown on his face. He stopped in the doorway and glanced back into the room. She sucked in a breath when she saw Nanino followed him.

  After closing the door behind him, Luca draped his arm around the dwarf’s shoulders. “I am indebted to you, my friend, for your willingness to assist Olivia in her time of need. I can’t bear the thought of her suffering to bring my child into the world.”