Chapter 4.
The
Plan.
Late
hours trickled by. At last, when streaks of dawn pierced the sky with pinkish
hues, Cardinal Fratelli stood before the great window in his bedroom, watching
sunrise climb from behind the hills.
Silently,
Ernesto’s dark figure lingered. His dreary eyelids drooped and he tiredly paced
back and forth. Slowly, he turned to walk away. Abruptly, Fratelli cried out,
“Ernesto,
don’t you leave me. We must talk about this.”
His
hand eagerly beckoned.
“I’ve
been standing right here about half an hour and now, all of sudden, you need
me?” Ernesto quipped.
Fratelli sunk into his chair, collapsing
dramatically. He mused a moment, then began:
“This
is awful- very awful… I can’t believe you consider Father Adreo capable of
murder. He is so shy and cautious, always mindful. How could you?”
“I
don’t think Adreo killed anyone,” Ernesto replied, “But I swore an oath to
perform my duties as constable unto the greatest ability and that means abiding
by the city’s laws and orderly seeking justice. I don’t like it either but
Adreo is accountable here and must be examined…”
“But
he is entirely innocent!”
“How
do you know that?”
“Because
I know.”
Ernesto’s
sudden snicker came out more like a hiss. His tired mouth couldn’t properly
make the sound. Nor could his eyes convey the exact exasperation he felt.
However, Fratelli must have possessed greater vexation for he emotively stroked
the jeweled cross around his neck and mumbled. Not understanding, not entirely
caring, Ernesto turned around.
“Now,
if you don’t mind, I’m going home…”
“Wait!”
Ernesto
looked back to see Fratelli leaping from his chair, almost knocking his leg against
it in an excited scramble to stand. He stumbled forth and exclaimed: “By the
grace of God, I will prove him guiltless!”
“And
how will you go about that?” Ernesto asked, incredulous.
“Easily:
by use of my God-given reason. There must be something amiss, some detail you overlooked…”
“So
says the high churchman to the seasoned law-officer?”
“You
think I am jesting.”
“No,
I think you are over-tired and coming up with fanciful ideas. Angelo- Your
Eminence, leave this situation to us. I promise I’ll try to clear Father Adreo…”
“Let
me help you.”
Ernesto
withdrew, tiptoed across the room and began to quietly open the door when
Fratelli loudly slammed it shut with one arm. He then backed against it.
“I
won’t allow you to leave until you accept my help,” he cautiously whispered, as
if everyone in the house wasn’t already rudely awakened.
“You
stubborn, stubborn cardinal!”
“…We
are brothers,” Fratelli said.
His
warm, amber eyes shined plaintively; almost youthful. There was something so
familiar in that stare; Ernesto nearly forgot that he spent his whole childhood
without once seeing it.
“Okay…okay”
he whined, “Just stop looking at me like that- it’s beneath you.”
Fratelli
hastily reclaimed his dignity then folded his arms and shuffled away. Sorely
tired, he didn’t mind when Ernesto exited and left him pondering alone in the
dark. Sitting in his chair, lost amidst circling thoughts, he fell asleep.
Feeling
a sharp nudge, Fratelli awoke. He shook the cluttered thoughts from his head,
blinked tiredly and glanced up at Dina. Her light-blue, cotton dress glowed in
late afternoon sun. Wryly, she smiled and let him stand.
“I
had the most-terrible night, the worst in all my life…except perhaps that one
night when I fell down the stairs…” Fratelli mumbled.
“Yes,
I know,” she answered, “I heard everything.”
“Dina,
you eavesdropped?”
“Of
course I did…Forgive me, Your Eminence, I was worried.”
He
sighed. Let me worry about myself, he silently thought.
Chapter 5.
The
Great Artist.
“Merciful Lord, you alone judge the just man,
you alone are bread for the righteous. I admit that I may have not always
prayed as I ought. Verily, I sometimes asked, O God, out of the vanity of my
heart, for selfish things. However, I bring to you a matter more important than
preserving my happiness- or my hairline…
Father, as thine own Son was falsely
accused, I pray you deliver my son, Adreo who is unjustly held against his will…well, I think he is!”
A
sudden, uneasy quietness settled over the dim space where Fratelli knelt praying.
Far from the cranky scowl he wore that morning, his face showed a stoic
stillness. He cleared his throat and continued:
“Lord Christ, I devoutly implore you to grant
me wisdom where I lack it- and discretion also…”
Unsure
of what else to say, the cardinal hushed, nervously crossed himself and stood.
Impatiently, he left the cathedral and encountered a woman clad in silken, pink
skirts. Shaking her auburn locks, peering with shrewd, green eyes, she politely
grinned and greeted him:
“Why,
good evening Angelo!”
“Hello
Francine.”
Fratelli
started walking past her when she reached for his arm.
“Oh
Angelo, I have wonderful news,” she said.
What
now? He paused in his tracks, listening as she rambled:
“I’m
surprised you don’t already know this, being supposedly cultured as you are,
but one of the greatest artists in all of Europe is coming here to Lucca. Have
you heard of Gino Siglio? Of course you have. Well, his works are on display at
the Museo D’Arte. Why don’t you come
with me this evening?”
“I
am busy this evening,” Fratelli answered.
Francine
grimaced.
“Angelo,
we never do anything together. It’s almost as if I don’t even have a nephew,”
she lamented.
Bristling,
Fratelli responded, “Stop calling me “Angelo”.”
Lifting
a dainty, gloved hand, Francine giggled. Noticing his strained face, her smile
faded. She glanced away, briefly distracted by a white bird that fluttered in
treetops above, then re-addressed him:
“I’m
sorry…Your Eminence…Would you like to go out with your dear Aunt Francine this
evening?”
“Not
tonight,” he replied, “I have other things to do.”
“Come
now. You can read your bible or powder your miter some other time.”
Fratelli
rolled his eyes.
“That is all you
think I do, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Well, what do
you do?”
Fratelli
scowled, pursing his lips lest he say something he might regret. Anxiously, his
interlocking fingers reached and toyed with his golden ring. There was perhaps
no way of changing her mind… He said a courteous farewell and darted out of
sight.
Inside, Fratelli
sat in the parlor as Dina brought him a cold glass of water. He wiped some
sweat from his forehead and gratefully drank. Soon as Dina began to leave, a
boy with light, golden-brown hair- no older than thirteen, scampered in. He was
Gianni, Dina’s newly adopted son. Right away, he set about, curiously touching
various books and statuettes in the room. Dina turned back to scold him when
Fratelli instead spoke,
“Gianni, seeing
as you have so much energy and don’t know what to do with it, how would you
like to serve at the altar for Sunday’s Mass?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Um…okay.”
Smiling Fratelli
told him, “Good, we will practice tomorrow evening the things you are to do…”
Dina grinned as
the boy ran off down the hallway.
“Would you like
some more water, Your Eminence?” she then asked.
“If you do not
mind, I would love some tea…I just spoke with my Aunt Francine and she may be
whisking me off some place tonight that I’d rather not go… Netherless, I will
have my hands full.”
She nodded,
removed the empty glass and left. By himself, able to think over the many
things that hounded his mind, Fratelli rested, looking out the window. Summer
sun blazed brightly over green gardens. A few birds sang a lazy song. How he
wished to go upstairs and steal a short nap… However, Dina shortly came back with
a hot pot of tea and he remembered that work waited.
As evening crept
closer, Fratelli paused in his office amidst paper-work and various church
documents just as Dina called him to dinner. Peacefully, he sat eating his
supper of roasted tomatoes, ham and olives when Francine entered the dining
room, clad in a lavish, blue silk dress, fanning herself with an embroidered,
oriental fan. From his place beside Fratelli, Father Rodrigo peered up.
Fratelli hurried to finish, not saying anything about this rude imposition, and
met Francine in the hallway.
“I’m so glad you
could come with me!” she shouted, “This will be a wonderful, just splendid
night!”
For some reason,
he wasn’t extremely excited.
En route to the Museo D’Arte, Fratelli sat across from Francine in a sumptuous
stagecoach. It was actually more sumptuous than he preferred but again, he kept
silent, only looking out the window every now and then, while fastidiously
wiping a smudge from his golden cross. Thoughts of Father Adreo sitting alone,
imprisoned occupied his mind. Early the next morning, he would meet with
Ernesto and discuss this. Yet, Fratelli couldn’t quite wait. It was all he
thought about even as they pulled up before the bustling, brightly-lit piazza.
Francine and Fratelli climbed out into the
open, balmy night air. People milled to the right and left, some parting as
they approached. It was hard to ignore both of them: Francine in her royal blue
attire and Fratelli wearing his bright, scarlet robes. Crowds stopped and eyed
them. Francine waved and laughed, happy to be seen- especially with the
cardinal in tow. Fratelli hid his face and snuck inside.
In
the foyer of the grand Museo, a huge
picture greeted them. Depicted there on a scale of pastel pinks, greens and
blues: two women, wearing similar dresses, with similar features, gesturing and
yelling at eachother while a letter lay on the table before them. Their
emotional expressions flashed hot and excited.
…Fratelli
knew the feeling.
“Ooh
look at this one!” Francine cried.
Hesitantly,
he stepped into a large corridor. His eyes followed Francine’s gesture to a smaller-
but far more beauteous picture. Stopped in a rose-garden, an angel alighted
from heaven, pure white wings outspread, halo shimmering like the sun. Her
gentle, bare feet caressed the flowers. He blinked twice, finding it hard to
believe this was simply rendered from paint on a flat canvas.
“Your
Eminence!”
The
booming voice startled Fratelli so badly; he jumped and almost fled from the
room. A slender, tall man approached, donned in elegant clothes, his
reddish-brown hair covered by a black, felt hat. Dramatically, the man bowed
and kissed Fratelli’s ring. His rich umber eyes stared directly.
“In
case you do not know who I am already, I am Gino Siglio, yes, I am the artist.”
Francine
swooned, vigorously fanning herself and hanging on his every word.
“This
picture, yes… an angel perched among the roses, she is the sweetest rose! It
took me a year to get everything just perfect- her face, her hair- each rose
petal beneath her feet. It appears you like it very much, Your Eminence, don’t
you?”
Fratelli
stood transfixed by this man’s forceful personality. Slowly, he uttered:
“It
is beautiful, yes”
“Will
you buy it?”
“I
may want you to paint something else for me, we’ll talk later.”
Gino
smiled broadly, took the cardinal’s hand and again kissed his ring, then he
spun away to speak with another onlooker. Francine beamed, staring silently at him.
Fratelli nervously exited the corridor. Chasing after, Francine gasped:
“You
are going to commission something? I can’t believe how great this is! He is so
great!”
Fratelli
stopped and gazed at her awkwardly.
“What
is with you?” he hissed.
“I
like handsome men!”
“I’m
handsome, you don’t like me…”
“Handsome-
and talented…”
He groaned.
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