Chapter 3.
A Day of Rest.
Monday morning, Cardinal Fratelli met
Gianni within the dimly-lit cathedral. Sunlight soon flooded in, causing marble
floors and tiles to glow. The boy wore pristine white robes and squirmed
nervously at his place before the high-altar.
“You will kneel just like that to receive
the host upon your tongue,” Fratelli told him.
In jest, Gianni stuck out his tongue and
made an odd noise. The cardinal was not amused. He continued instructing:
“When you receive your Lord and Savior,
always do well to thank him with a multitude of prayers. Keep your mind on the
most holy sacrament- on his gifts…”
Leaning over the altar-rail, Gianni then
asked, “What if it tastes bad?”
“It won’t taste bad.”
“How do you know?”
“Gianni!”
Feeling scolded, Gianni stood and slinked
into a front pew where he crossed his arms, huffing. In some strange way, this
reminded Fratelli very much of himself and he glanced aside at an ornate
stained-glass window, slightly grinning. Wordlessly, he retreated down the
aisle with Gianni distantly trailing after. When Fratelli prayerfully folded
his hands together, the boy did so also- though more playful than prayerful.
Entering the dining-room, Fratelli ate breakfast
with Father Rodrigo, his secretary who pleasantly informed him about the events
of this week. Holy Week, as it was called. Fratelli’s mind began to race and he
grew quiet.
“I wish for today to be a day of rest,”
Fratelli finally stated.
“That is fine, Your Eminence.”
Rodrigo glanced out the window. Trees
rustled audibly against the glass. Leaves swirled in wind. The entire earth was
shedding its brown winter coat and donning the green splendor of spring.
Taking the daily newspaper off a table in
the hallway, Fratelli trekked upstairs. He drew back his bedroom curtains,
letting golden sun pour in and scrambled through a top dresser-drawer. At last,
his hands seized upon a small tin: his secret stash of Turkish delight!
Fratelli sat in his comfortable chair,
opened the tin, took one of the delicate, powdered candies and ate it. He
smiled from the sweetness. Resting his feet on a plump pillow, he unfolded the
paper then slowly began to read. So enjoyable, he mused…
Suddenly, there was loud buzzing and a furious
tickle as a fly dove right into his ear. Fratelli sat up rigidly. He slapped
his ear. The fly flew out unharmed and circled above him. Watching it dance
overhead, Fratelli folded the newspaper then swung! He missed.
Very annoyed at being so blatantly
disturbed, Fratelli didn’t give up. He followed that tiny fly around the room,
swatting again and again. Finally, it landed on a statuette. Fratelli
focused…he struck hard. The statue came crashing down but not the fly.
“Lord,
I know you have use for your creatures…and declared them all good- yet this one
is despicable!” he hissed.
The door opened and Dina came in. She eyed
the broken ceramic statue. Then she saw the cardinal poised, warrior-like, with
newspaper in hand.
“Your Eminence! What is the matter with
you?” she cried.
“It’s a fly…” he answered, pointing to the
dresser where a little black dot scurried.
Dina approached, swiftly yanking the
newspaper from his hand. Her expression displayed an inner temptation to whack
him with it…but she only stuffed the paper in her dress-pocket and went to open
the window. Patiently, she shooed the fly outside. Then she recovered a small
broom and dust-pan that were leaning against the wall and swept the broken,
glass pieces.
She said, her voice flat:
“Now, continue resting, Your Eminence…”
“Thank you Dina,” he replied.
“It was nothing at all…you men and your
silly compulsion to hit things!”
Fratelli sheepishly watched her go. He
spent the afternoon’s remainder straitening up his room. Once everything was
tidied, he went outside on the veranda to nap.
Meanwhile inside, Dina was setting the
table for dinner when she heard a knock at the door. Answering, she found
Francine standing there, several bags under her arms, and Philomena’s slim
figure waiting behind her.
“Oh, come in,” Dina exclaimed, “His
Eminence is sleeping. I will wake him and tell him you both are here.”
“No Dina, allow me,” Francine replied.
Wearing a mischievous smile, Francine quietly
stepped on the veranda. Sunlight made her auburn hair flash a bright, reddish
color. She plucked a leaf from the nearby palm and slowly touched it to
Fratelli’s ear. Immediately, the cardinal snapped awake, smacked his ear and
hollered. Francine suppressed laughter and plainly said:
“That is what happens when you are
slothful.”
Fratelli’s amber eyes glared hotly. He
removed his red cap and angrily squeezed it in one hand.
“Good evening, Francine,” he growled.
Chapter 4.
A New Resident.
Still rather upset, Fratelli ignored
Francine as he hurried inside to meet Philomena. The black-haired woman, his
youngest cousin, weakly smiled and greeted him. He bent over to help carry her
bags upstairs. She silently followed. They reached Dina’s old room, the one she
lived in before moving to the house across the street which Fratelli had
purchased for her two years ago. It was a gesture of appreciation she continued
to enjoy. Dina indeed didn’t miss the small room and its one window that faced
the city street. Philomena however, didn’t seem to mind.
“Thank you Angelo, for letting me stay
here. I am still so grieved over losing my grandfather.”
“I know, I know…” Fratelli said
sympathetically.
Philomena moved back the bed’s sheets to lie
down.
“It’s comfortable!” she exclaimed, patting
the soft mattress.
“Yes, yes…” Fratelli mumbled then turned
to leave.
He wasn’t intentionally acting aloof. A
lot swarmed in his mind. Preparations for this week ahead, Gianni’s first
communion, Michele’s baby…
“Angelo,” Philomena said.
He gazed at her as she spoke:
“Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, my dear cousin,” he
replied, smiling.
Pale rays of dawn-light, woke Cardinal
Fratelli. He dressed, recited morning-prayer and went downstairs to find
Philomena munching on breakfast- in her night-gown.
“Philomena!” he stammered, “You are in a
house full of priests. Merciful goodness, go and dress properly!”
She rolled her dark eyes and strode past
him, back up the stairs. Fratelli sighed and sat down as Father Rodrigo came
in. Silently, the priest seated, sipped tea and looked out the window. It was a
beautiful spring day indeed.
After breakfast, Dina summoned Fratelli,
telling him, “Your Eminence, Carlo is here with the new wine for Easter.”
“Splendid,” the cardinal replied, smiling.
Exiting a side door, Fratelli met Carlo,
the local vintner. A tall, black-eyed, black-haired man, he held one bottle in
his hand.
“Blush made from nothing but the purest
grapes,” he said, “I bottled this myself for you to try, Your Eminence.”
“Why, thank you,” Fratelli replied.
Carlo also brought forth a case of bottles.
Though the wine within was a pale pink, the tinted glass made it look red as
blood. The cardinal smiled as he examined it but Dina poked his shoulder. He
turned when she said:
“Your Eminence, maybe you should go inside
when Carlo gets the barrel out…you remember what happened two years ago.”
Recalling how he got in the way and Carlo accidentally
set a barrel down on his unfortunate toe, Fratelli grumbled and walked back
indoors. He almost bumped into Philomena who now wore a pastel green dress,
inlaid with small pearls. His cousin curiously peered past him towards Carlo.
Fratelli closed the door. Then, she scowled at him and strode away, feeling
rather closed in.
Reaching the hallway, she turned and
stated, “Angelo, I am going out this evening.”
“Going out?” he asked, “What for? With
whom?”
“I can’t stay here cooped up in this dusty
house,” she answered.
“I think Dina does a fine job dusting,” he
replied obliviously, scratching his right cheek.
“I mean I want to be outside…and doing
things,” she said, “That man, Carlo is the one taking me to dinner?”
“Carlo? Dinner? When did this happen?”
“Angelo, I met him on the way into town.
Please don’t be nosy,” she retorted beginning to walk away.
Fratelli reached out and snatched her arm,
quickly but gently.
“Hey, stop it,” she laughed, batting at
him.
“It’s my duty to make sure you are safe
and enjoying the best welfare,” he declared, “You can go out with Carlo for
dinner- but I’m coming with you.”
She loudly groaned.
~ ~ ~
Fratelli hurried to finish his reading and
paper-work. After reciting evening-prayer, he immediately met Philomena in the
parlor. She waited there, wearing the same dress as before but with silk gloves
and a sparkling broche. Seeing him, she wiped her forehead in exasperation. Her
face expressed dour protest. She wanted to cry out that she was a fully grown
woman and could go wherever but knew Fratelli wouldn’t budge. His paternal
sensibilities couldn’t allow it. As the cardinal’s cousin, she reluctantly had
to cope. While Fratelli donned fine, red gloves and his saturno, a
broad-rimmed, scarlet-colored hat, she paced back and forth. Of course, within
minutes, he began feeling rather nervous himself!
A knock sounded, Philomena jolted, making
way towards the door. Dina already answered and had let Carlo in. The man stood
tall, his head almost touching the ceiling, and bowed to both her and Fratelli.
His dark green suit and blocky, black shoes contrasted the hallway’s
surrounding, delicate décor. He then took the cardinal’s hand and kissed his
ring. He tried to take Philomena’s delicate hand but one look from Fratelli
stopped him. She rolled her eyes again. This was not going to be a very
enjoyable night.
Together they walked to a still carriage
led by one of Carlo’s light-brown draft horses. As humans approached, he raised
his majestic head and snorted. Philomena patted the horse and felt his wiry
mane.
“Good boy,” she whispered, “Let’s go real
fast now and make Angelo regret he ever came along…”
Indeed, Fratelli sat in the back, behind
them, crossing his arms against chill night. It felt colder than he expected. Once
boarded and sitting comfortable, Philomena offered to drive.
“But…as the gentleman, I should drive…”
Carlo insisted.
She gazed at him, her shiny eyes pleading.
He relented and handed her the long, coiled whip. Grinning, she snapped it in
the air. At once, the horse took off with such speed that Fratelli’s hat flew
from his head. Lunging desperately, he caught it and clumsily tumbled back into
his seat. He had a feeling she did that on purpose.
Carlo’s house sat on a quiet hillside. Its
white, stucco walls crowned the ridge which was covered in green rows of
carefully cultivated vines. Many servants and cooks greeted them, especially
interested in the cardinal. They crowded into the foyer, lining up to greet
him. Fratelli spoke with them shortly before escaping into the dining room. He
then joined Carlo and his cousin at table. Their dinner was rather simple but
hearty; thick bread, warm pasta and chicken stew. Fratelli was glad to see
black olives and he admittedly hogged them.
Throughout the night, Philomena excitedly
talked. She told about her travel from the north to Lucca, her eventful first
night at Angelo’s house and her plans for Easter. Listening silently, Carlo
nodded again and again. Fratelli yawned, sensing the hours grow long.
It was late when they returned. Softly,
they came indoors and tread along the hallway. Irate that Fratelli had been
following her during the whole night, Philomena spun and told him:
“You can go anywhere you want, but I
can’t. This is part of the reason I left the Church behind. They believe that
women are to be restricted.”
Startled, feeling encroaching upset,
Fratelli shouted, “You are to be protected!”
“Who says I need to be protected?”
“Listen to me, Philomena,” Fratelli said
more gently, “If I go out at night and an awful thing happens, they will just
find someone to replace me but you- you are irreplaceable.”
At those words, her eyes softened. Her
lips almost quivered. Stuffing away anger, she mumbled some unintelligible word
and left.
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