The Cardinal's Family Matters, ch 13-14

Chapter 13.

      The Stand-off.

      As stars twinkled above, Lamberto led Philomena out onto a stone balcony. The festivity indoors quieted down long ago and silence was all around. He sighed gladly and spoke;
      “You know, it’s great being around you. Your perfume is so lovely!”

      “Thank you,” Philomena giggled.

      “What is a pretty young woman like you doing living with her family? You should have a husband,” Lamberto said.

      “I’m not married yet,” she laughed.

      “Well then, maybe we can work to change that…”

      His intense brown eyes seemed to pierce Philomena’s soul, he leaned and kissed her. Finally, she blushed, looking away. Gazing from her high vista, she saw the distant lights of Florence below. Happily, she clasped her hands together. It was just as she’d imagined! Nothing could be more perfect…

      Suddenly a loud bang startled them. They watched Cardinal Fratelli come barging through the door with heroic swiftness. He slipped a little on the fine carpeting then regained his balance. With one finger, he pointed at Lamberto’s shape and cried out, “You!”

      Philomena glanced back, feeling very confused while Lamberto approached the fuming cardinal. With disappointment in his expression, the duke’s son said:

      “Now, now, Your Eminence, why are you so upset? You are disturbing your dear cousin.”

      “You know why I’m upset,” Fratelli growled, “You had Cardinal Montillo distract me while you took my cousin up to your room.”

      He also wagged his finger and pouted, “Not only that- he made me drink too much wine and now my mouth is fuzzy… and my eyes are fuzzy…”

      Lamberto smiled. His face glowed with pride. However, the glow dimmed as Philomena stepped forward and calmly asked him:

      “Is this true?”

      Lamberto stuttered, “Well no- not like that… His Eminence is obviously lying. He doesn’t want you to enjoy yourself.”

      Philomena pondered briefly, looked at Fratelli who stood there huffing, his forehead glistening with angry sweat then turned back to Lamberto. Slowly, she replied:

      “I know Angelo can be very irritating with his flaunty manners and high morals, and knack for sticking his nose in everyone’s business… He’s always lazing around, eating olives and playing with that stupid ring…but he’s not a liar.”

      “Why, thank you,” Fratelli said half-heartedly.

      “Philomena, I think you should stay away from him,” Lamberto asserted.

      “She should stay away from you!” Fratelli retorted.

      Quickly, Lamberto swatted at Fratelli and Fratelli swatted back. They looked like two angry children.

      “Stop it, stop it!!” Philomena finally shouted, getting in between them.

      “I am sick of you, cardinal,” Lamberto grumbled to Fratelli, “Get out of my sight!”

      Philomena crossed her arms, declaring:

      “I am sick of everyone telling me what I should do. I should make my own decisions. Goodness, if Angelo had his way, I’d be a virgin till I was 50!”
      Fratelli interrupted her, “And if Lamberto II had his way, you would be a virgin until tonight!”

      Philomena scoffed at them. She scoffed first at the cardinal and then at Lamberto when he snickered. Lifting the hem of her glittering, yellow dress, she stomped out of the room. Soon, she stopped in the hallway as if forgetting something, then returned for Fratelli. Resolutely, she grabbed his arm and yanked him after her.

      When they darted downstairs and entered another long corridor, Fratelli stopped, leaned against the wall and caught his breath.

      “Oh, my head hurts,” he moaned.

      Philomena, though angry at Lamberto for his trick, didn’t feel much sympathy for Fratelli either. She rolled her eyes at him and kept walking. Jan emerged, relieved to see them both unscathed from the confrontation. He approached Fratelli asking, “Your Eminence, is there anything I can do for you?”

      “Go after her and make sure she isn’t too upset,” he answered.

      After Jan took off, following Philomena, Fratelli muttered, “Now, I need to find my bed…”

Chapter 14.

      A New Family-Member.

      Early morning rays stretched over the hilly horizon. Mist still clouded the palace grounds. Cardinal Fratelli walked hastily, tightening his fine cloak. Gianni trailed slowly behind, huffing so he could see his breath in the air and trying to catch it. Seeing Philomena at his side, clad in her coral-pink, silk dress, Fratelli sighed. Everything was peaceful now.

Suddenly, Jan blocked his path. He bowed low and begged:
“Please, Your Eminence, take me with you!”

      Nervously, Fratelli touched his face, unsure of what to say.

      Jan continued, “The duke’s son got angry with me and cast me out…that pig! I can’t stand him. I don’t want to work for him anymore. He’s overbearing, obnoxious and abusive towards me and all the other servants. Now I helped you, please will you help me?”

      Fratelli hesitated for a moment. He really wanted to get on with their journey home. However, he felt indebted to Jan’s ready helpfulness.

      “Alright then, you can come with us,” the cardinal reluctantly said, “I’m not sure if we’ll have plenty room for you.”

      “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jan replied quickly, “I’ll sit on top with the driver and promise to make no sound nor bother anyone.”

      Jan hopped aboard the elegant stagecoach, next to the driver who moved over and wiped his tired eyes. Gianni jumped inside first followed by Philomena, then Fratelli and Rodrigo. Rodrigo closed the door, making sure this time there wasn’t any piece of Fratelli’s long cape in the way, and then rested in his seat. All of them eventually rested and went back to sleep.

      ~ ~ ~

      Night spread shadows over the land. Back at the cardinal’s villa in Lucca, Dina lit several lamps and placed them around the parlor. She checked the soup which slowly boiled in the kitchen, poured a glass of wine and sat down in Fratelli’s favorite chair. Grabbing a pillow nearby, one he usually rested his feet on, she reclined her feet upon it. So, this is how His Eminence relaxes, she mused. Laughing, she delicately sipped the wine.

      At once, a pounding came upon the door. Dina jumped, thankful no wine splashed onto the chair, and darted to answer the door. Ernesto stood there heaving and sweating. Behind, his horse’s shadow lingered beneath a far tree.

      “Michele…is having her baby!”

      “Oh!” Dina cried, “…but His Eminence isn’t back yet.”

      “I’ll wait- but only for a little while,” he answered.

      Dina let Ernesto in and fetched him some water.

      Soon the stagecoach came to the villa and stopped. Just as Fratelli stepped out, relieved at last to be home, Ernesto met him.

      “Your Eminence, you have to come home with me- Michele is having her baby!”

      “Oh dear!” Fratelli replied.

      He started to climb back onto the coach but then stopped.

      “Can’t I at least change into more comfortable garments? This choir dress gets so warm…” he asked.

      “No!”

      Fratelli let Philomena come back into the coach and sit beside him. Before closing the door he yelled:
      “Rodrigo I’ll be back, Gianni, you behave yourself!”

      The coach moved over city roads and into smooth, dark countryside. Fratelli didn’t wait until it halted and jumped out when he saw Ernesto’s house. Philomena followed after. They both lifted up their draping clothes and scurried over the dewy grass.

      Francine met them.

      “Now Angelo, I want you to wait downstairs, Philomena come with me.”
      “Why must I wait downstairs?” Fratelli moaned.

      “Because you get faint around the sight of blood,” his aunt said matter-of-factly.

      “Oh” he answered, wincing.

Francine quickly summoned him back and made a request that sounded more like an order:

      “Angelo, you can do us a favor and quickly bring some warm water         upstairs...”

      Ernesto pointed Fratelli to the kitchen then darted upstairs after Francine and Philomena.

      Fumbling in the kitchen, Fratelli finally drew some water and heated it slightly. He trod carefully upstairs and handed it to Francine. Stopping he peered through the door. Michele was there lying on a bed looking very belabored and upset. Suddenly Francine appeared then shooed him away,

      “Go wait downstairs; or else you’re going to make everything worse!”

      She closed the door in his face. Fratelli grabbed the lamp sitting nearby, paced a while and slumped down in a comfortable chair by the window. He removed his gloves and small red cap and rubbed his weary eyes. He felt so uncomfortable and tired yet imagined Michele was in greater discomfort. Silently, he prayed for her health and successful delivery of the child. He wondered if it would be a boy or girl. Would it look more like her- or Ernesto? His thoughts began to circle again, round and round, lulling him to sleep.

      “Angelo!”

      Fratelli jolted awake and saw Francine hovering over him.

      “I can’t believe you fell asleep.” Francine chided.

      “I apologize…”

      “Enough, come upstairs and see your new niece.”

      Excitedly, Fratelli scrambled out of his chair. His legs, not fully awake, stumbled over the carpeting. Ernesto caught him before he fell.

      “Easy there…”

      Coming into to upstairs room after Francine, Fratelli saw Michele sitting upright, nestled in clean, white sheets, her expression fatigued yet content. In her hands was a small bundle wrapped in small linens. Her ruddy face peeked out from the folds, tiny, brown eyes shining with life.

      “She is beautiful!” Fratelli gasped, taking the baby into his hands.

      He half expected the baby girl to cry or spit up or do something unsavory- but she did not. Smiling, the cardinal passed her to Ernesto. Philomena gave up her chair and stood as the proud father sat, laughed and caressed the baby’s cheek.

      “Now that I am done here, shall I go?” Francine asked.

      “Can I go with you?” Philomena yawned.

      “Yes, you come and you too Angelo.”

      Peering up, Fratelli protested, “But I’m an uncle now, can’t I spend some more time…”

      “No,” Francine interrupted, “Michele needs her rest.”

“Well then go out and wait for me. I will just be a while.”

      Though Francine huffed, she and Philomena exited the room. Fratelli crept near to Ernesto, beheld his baby niece and grinned, his pale, tired face beaming with happiness.

      “What are you naming her?” he whispered.

      Ernesto briefly pondered, his expression stoic then said,
      “Angelica.”

      “Oh how nice!”

      “Shhhh…!”

      “Sorry.”

      Fratelli rested in a chair, gazing out the dark window at glimmering, moonlit trees. Michele dozed off to sleep and Ernesto gently set baby Angela in the crease of her arms. Glancing out the window again, Fratelli saw that the stagecoach was leaving without him. He gasped anxiously, about to rush from the room, but realized he could just stay with Ernesto tonight. Although he didn’t look forward to sleeping on a creaky couch instead of his soft bed, Fratelli hid this apprehension and grinned happily.

      He turned to Michele who stirred awake, blinking her eyes open. Fratelli lingered near her and Angela. He spoke a blessing over them. Then he traced a delicate cross on the baby’s forehead.

      “Thank you,” Michele said.

      “Thank the Lord,” Fratelli answered, “We are here and all is well with our family.”

~ The End.

The Cardinal's Family Matters, ch 9-10

Chapter 9.

      Evening.

      Coming to a rugged road, the coach halted. Gianni sprinted from the door, hurrying towards dense shrubbery as Fratelli leaned outside and called:

      “Do your improper deed quickly- we must be on our way!”

      Philomena giggled behind him. Then she stepped out, stretched her legs and paced over the dusty ground. Rodrigo figured he would get some exercise as well. Strolling beneath a scraggly tree, he produced a small, leather-bound book from his pocket. Its old pages rustled in protest as Rodrigo opened them, loosened the blue, silk ribbon which marked his place and began to read aloud:

      “O God, come to my aid…”

      Automatically, Fratelli replied, “O Lord, make haste to help me.”

      Philomena gazed cock-eyed, but wasn’t offended when Fratelli beckoned her participation in the evening-prayer. She spoke coarsely, reluctantly. But she needed to be compliant, she mused. After all, their attending this marvelous celebration was because of him.

      Gianni expressed confusion, his little forehead wrinkling, when he joined back with them. Yet, taking ready advantage of that awkwardness, Gianni assumed priestly posture, spread his arms wide then waved a blessing in the air. Fratelli scowled. He didn’t say anything. Tired by the day’s long journey, he climbed aboard the stagecoach. The others soon followed.   

      Two hours later, they had passed the border of Florence. While Lamberto II resided in Eastern Lucca, his father’s palace stood on a hilltop in central Florence. Tuscany’s great capitol was unlike Lucca, which bustled at a steady pace. Here, crowds, horses and carriages jammed the streets. Fortunately, the traffic loosened. Most people, by now, were preparing for Easter’s Solemn Vigil.  As the sloping hilltop came into sight, Fratelli clasped his hands anxiously together. A sharp incline jolted them, Gianni shouted with excitement and Philomena stirred from her nap.

      “Can’t they be more careful?” she grumbled.

      Taking his cousin’s arm, Fratelli replied, “There is no other way to scale the hill- unless you wish to walk.”

      When her small purse hit the floor, Philomena hissed in frustration. Soon, bumps and jostles ended. Quickly, they moved over smooth terrain then gradually slowed. Out the small windows, a high, stone gate became visible and four scarlet-clad, armed guards allowed them through.

      At last, everything stopped. Gianni jumped outside first. Throwing his fists up, he whooped with joy and began to run. Immediately, Rodrigo bounded after him and clutched the collar of his suit. Wrestling away, Gianni exclaimed, “Father, if you tear my suit- I’ll look terrible for my first communion!”

      Rodrigo let go. Fratelli sprinted, lifting his long cloak above the grass, and paused beside him.

      “Your Eminence,” Rodrigo said, “I fear the boy may act out, seeing how he’s been cooped up so long.”

      “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll get him. Please accompany Philomena,” Fratelli panted.

      Rodrigo then asked, “Are you alright?”   

      “Yes, fine, fine,” Fratelli replied as he started towards Gianni who had already reached the palace door.

      Timidly brushing aside his golden-brown hair, Gianni met eyes with another guard. Tall-statured, towering over him, the man casually stared back. Though he rested one hand on the hilt of his silver sword, the guard’s stance did not threaten. Suddenly, Gianni pointed at Fratelli, flashed a toothy smile and bluntly declared:

      “I’m with him. We’re important…”

      Fratelli grabbed Gianni’s arm in order to hush him, apologized for the annoyance and led him inside.  At once, a great foyer engulfed them. Golden lamplight greeted them, gilded walls and distant violin music. Gianni gaped. He had never seen such opulence in his life. Several noble ladies, all wearing fine emerald-colored dresses, conversed nearby. One by one, they turned to greet Fratelli.

      “Your Eminence!” said the eldest, tucking a stubborn, black curl behind her ear, “I’d ask you to dance with me but alas, you’re not allowed.”

      Tightening his grip on Gianni, who tried to squirm away, Fratelli uneasily gazed aside at a large painting. When the woman burst into coyish laughter, he swiftly departed. Entering a spacious corridor, he finally released Gianni. Spinning around, Gianni stated, “I bet they have very good food here. I’m so hungry… Can we get something to eat?”

      “Yes but only a little. You shall not eat supper until after Mass and Holy Communion,” Fratelli answered.

      Rodrigo then appeared. Noticing, Fratelli’s mounting exasperation, he offered to take Gianni and find the boy some food. Eagerly, Fratelli paced back into the great foyer. Philomena waited. 

      “I know how badly Francine wanted to be here,” she began.

      Thinking of Michele, wondering if she was well, Fratelli nervously folded his hands. He removed his golden ring and held it for a while. Just as he started putting it back on, someone yelled loudly:

      “You are here!”

      Alarmed, Fratelli dropped the ring. It clinked on the floor, rolled about a foot away and was stopped by Lamberto II’s black boot. Clad in medallioned finery, scarlet and black, Lamberto withdrew. His unblemished face tensed, fair lips bent in a frown. Fratelli just stood there adamant, unwilling to move. Neither of them acted. Neither of them wanted to stoop in front of the other and show submission…

      Eventually, a blue-vested servant paused amidst household cleaning, seeing their dilemma. He approached and knelt down to fetch the ring. Moreso, he placed the ring onto Fratelli’s finger then reverently kissed it. Glancing back at Lamberto, the servant dashed away like a frightened mouse.  

      Feeling weak, Fratelli watched Lamberto proceed towards Philomena, introduce himself and offer her a glass of wine. Sighing under his breath, Fratelli concluded that only a beautiful young woman afforded Lamberto’s politeness. Everyone else seemed inferior. Suppressing hot anger, Fratelli ventured outside. Somehow, he sensed his trials had only begun.

Chapter 10.

      This is the Night.

      In mere minutes, a troupe of clergy entered the foyer, clustered together and milled outside. They numbered around thirty. Ten, white-robed deacons, fifteen priests wearing black cassocks and birettas, three monsignors swaddled in purple, one elderly, grey-bearded bishop and lastly, a resplendent cardinal. His silvery, powdered wig curled like a lion’s mane.  Obviously dyed to match, his bushy eyebrows arched while he peered with shrewd, blue eyes. Fratelli vaguely recognized him… Looking to and fro, seeking refuge from the clamorous throng, he desperately ducked behind a huge, ornamental fern.

      Unfortunately, the silver-haired cardinal stared right at Fratelli and in boisterous voice, announced:

      “Now I know, the Lord Lamberto doesn’t have red roses trimmed with ermine- come out from there…you look silly.”

      Fratelli remained still. He finally gave up and emerged. The older cardinal gave a satisfied look. Then he paused, thought a minute and asked:

      “I am Cardinal Montillo. You don’t remember me?”

      No answer. Before Montillo addressed Fratelli again, someone called him back inside.

      “Thanks be to you, O Lord…” Fratelli muttered.

      In short time, everyone was summoned into the neighboring, royal chapel. For a chapel, the space was huge, with gilded walls and vaulted ceilings. White lilies clustered everywhere, sweetly scenting the air. Hastened clamor ensued. A select-audience gathered. Altar servers scurried and chattered like white-clad sea-gulls. Priests gathered as a greater flock, rushing to the chapel’s front. Beside the ancient, bearded bishop, Fratelli fidgeted with his own clothing. He wore choir dress beneath a scarlet cape, which was what cardinals wore when not presiding. However, he lost his thoughts when all grew dark. In that primordial dark, they recollected the first dark… before creation.

      “In the beginning God created heaven, and earth. And the earth was void and empty, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the spirit of God moved over the waters…”

      On this night, they relived creation and the fall of man. They learned how from his sinfulness, emerged the perfect plan of hope.

      “And I will pour upon you clean water, and you shall be cleansed from all your filthiness, and I will cleanse you from all your idols. And I will give you a new heart, and put a new spirit within you.”

      Time blurred. Minutes ran together. While sitting, overhearing Cardinal Montillo’s rather dull, prolonged sermon, Fratelli struggled to stay awake. At last, he sharply pinched his arm and almost shouted from the abrupt pain. Hearing Fratelli’s stifled squeak, the priest beside him grew stiff, his eyes fearfully bulging and frantically searched for a rodent beneath his feet.

      The baptisms, which initiated Christians into new life, followed. Women holding babes draped in white lace, lined behind several pink-cheeked youths around the baptismal font. Montillo administered the life-giving sacrament, his face rather indifferent from doing this so many years. Next, came that long-awaited moment- confirmation. In ancient days, Christians would receive this sacrament on Easter night which called the Holy Spirit upon them. Lord Christ promised it and so they did it, Fratelli reminded himself.

      When Gianni’s suited figure rose, Fratelli fixed eyes on the boy who devoutly marched to the altar, halted, glanced back and in one, quick gesture, picked his nose. Fratelli winced. He dearly hoped no one had seen this. With a delicate, gloved hand, Montilo gestured for Fratelli to approach. He, stood, went forth proudly and met Gianni upon the altar’s marble steps.

      Looking down at Gianni’s overwhelmed and confused expression, Fratelli ginned. He really admired the boy right now who had expected a smaller ceremony, in Lucca’s cathedral, with more townspeople and minus the leering royalty.  A young server advanced, holding a crystal bowl of sacred oil in his pale hands. Ignoring Montillo’s domineering stare, Fratelli dabbed his thumb into the shimmering oil.

      Soft strains filled the air, joyously chanting:

      “Alleluia, resurrexit sicut dixit… (1.)”

      Fratelli honestly lost himself in the moment. His thoughts floated off somewhere below the vaulted ceiling. A sudden hiss brought him back to earth:

      “Your Eminence!”

      Seeing Gianni, Fratelli shook his head and anointed Gianni’s forehead, quietly speaking:

      “Be ye sealed with the Holy Ghost.”

      Gianni smiled. Glad to be over with; he turned and hastily retreated down the altar-steps. Fratelli himself remained by the other clergy, fidgeting somewhat as he found it hard to contain his joy. This joy grew considerably during the consecration of the Holy body and blood of Christ. They used only the newest, finest bread and wine, rendered a best offering to the Lord. It was now time:

      Nervously, Gianni again approached the altar, knelt- as he was instructed and allowed Montillo to place a white, round host on his tongue. Fratelli watched the boy chew, worried he would grimace, horrified if he would dare spit it out. Luckily, all went well and Gianni returned to his place and remembered to thank God.

      Gladness erupted in Fratelli’s very soul. This was the night when Christ rose from the grave, when everything was made anew. On this night, Christ opened the gates of heaven, undid the fault of Adam and delivered mankind from certain death.

      ~ ~ ~

      Finally, the Mass ended. Bells rang, casting a brazen echo. In response, another church-bell sang far off in the distance. Darkness shrouded the hillside. People walked, holding lit candles, forming a stream of light as they tread back towards the palace.

      Fratelli sighed with great relief when he reached his guest room. He glanced at two beds. Since Rodrigo wasn’t yet there, he eagerly chose the larger one. Despite Fratelli’s worrying, nothing went wrong. Easter’s solemn Vigil had been splendid, beauteous, pleasing to God. Gianni fully entered Christian faith; he was so different from the raggedy menace he met two years ago. And also, Philomena seemed happy. Resting on a soft, silk pillow, he smiled and said:

                       “Thank you, O Lord, for your plentiful grace. You spared me from trouble tonight and 

               lifted  my heart. Please be there for Gianni- as I have nothing to worry about.

The Cardinal's Family Matters, ch 7-8

Chapter 7.

      Good Friday.

      Before dawn peeked into the windows, Cardinal Fratelli awoke with a sore throat. He shivered a bit from night air then closed the window and laid back down, trying to fall asleep again. No success.

      Irritated, he got up and softly moved downstairs. From the kitchen, he smelled the delicate odor of brewing tea and baking bread. Dina was awake and setting the table. Remembering a more important task, Fratelli went into the chapel. Six lit candles greeted him, flickering somberly.

      Crossing himself, he said hoarsely:

      “Thank you, O Lord, for your providence and care. Please help me to feel fit enough for your service as I am not feeling too well. Give Gianni the grace to receive your holy communion tomorrow night, watch over Michele. I apologize, my God for rambling on like this, asking all these things. What matters most is you are here and that you sent your Son to save us… however, granting me a nice day would also be very pleasant.”

      He smiled against the dim lights.  

      “In the name of Father, Son and Holy Ghost, uphold me.”

      Thankfully, when Fratelli joined Rodrigo and Adreo for breakfast, the hot tea soothed his throat. After another cup, he now spoke clearly and without any pain. He didn’t even mind that for this day of fasting, all they each ate was two slices of bread and three figs. Excitedly, the cardinal suggested that all the leftover bread in their house be distributed to the poor.

      “But what else will we eat?” Adreo inquired.

      “We have figs and olives and hard breadsticks,” Fratelli replied, “Let’s remember those who often fast more from necessity than from choice.”

      This zealous excitement dwindled soon, as he approached the cathedral and found a man sitting forlorn on the steps. Moving aside his messy, greyish hair, the man looked up.

      “Your Eminence!” he cried.

      He scrambled afoot, bowed and kissed the cardinal’s ring. Then he continued, “I really need to talk with a man of God.”

      Fratelli’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to remember the man’s name. Indeed, he regularly attended Mass at the cathedral, always sitting towards the front and responding devoutly. Something like “Fred” or “Fido”…It bothered him he couldn’t remember.

      “You don’t know me, do you Your Eminence?” he asked, catching on.

      Embarrassed, Fratelli stammered, “I do, I do…Just wait for a minute…”

      “Alfred! I’m Alfred!” the man said, concealing some annoyance.

      Fratelli frowned and inwardly scolded himself. Returning attention to the man, he asked, “What do you wish to speak about, my son- Alfred?”

      Alfred gestured that they step inside where no one could hear. They walked towards the altar then stopped before an ornate, stained-glass window. Faint sunlight cast a reddish glow upon Alfred’s face as he began:

      “Your Eminence, I am so overcome by temptation and anger- I am ready to leave my wife.”

      The gravity of his words struck Fratelli and feeling weak, he leaned on a near wall.

      “Why?” was his only response.

      “I am not a bad man, Your Eminence, I just grow tired of working so hard every day and coming home to an unappreciative woman. She yells at me and won’t cook for me…and also, there is someone else I would rather be with,” Alfred said.

      Fratelli calmly listened while Alfred went on and on about how dissatisfying his married life had become. Finally, he raised one finger to quiet him then asserted, “No, no surely there is some other way…”

      Fratelli spent the next hour talking with Alfred, convincing him to resist his emotions, stay home and for both he and his spouse to seek regular counsel from another priest. Fratelli’s mind spun by the time Alfred left. Now, he had a headache.

      Leaving the cathedral’s side door, walking across the green, shady courtyard, Fratelli spotted Ernesto speaking with Francine beneath a tree. Francine furiously fanned herself with a silk, oriental fan and gazed at Ernesto. Back turned to Fratelli, he wore a deep blue, constable’s uniform and a black cape. Creeping closer, Fratelli overheard him say:

      “Michele’s baby is likely going to be born this week. She is so weary and having great pain. I’m so glad for your help.”

      “Well you know how dearly I was looking forward to hosting the Easter Feast but Philomena told me she was invited elsewhere…and Michele’s baby is a far more important matter.”

      Francine then stared past Ernesto, easily seeing Fratelli, and exclaimed, “Angelo, you are dressed in bright scarlet-red, how can I not see you behind that bush?”

      Ernesto turned around.

      “Well, hello,” the cardinal said to his brother, nervously waving.

      “Eminence,” Ernesto lazily replied with a small nod.

      Ernesto’s amber eyes glimmered tiredly, apparently deprived of sleep.

      “I have been so worried about Michele,” he explained, “Then your aunt Francine here told me she would be glad to care for her as a midwife.”

      “I am skilled at comforting and tending to new mothers,” Francine interrupted, “Just ask Angelo how well I cared for my eldest daughter after her first child.”

      Fratelli nodded. He rubbed his right temple. The painful headache would not go away. Taking Ernesto’s hand, he assured, “My brother, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to summon me.”

      “Even if it is in the middle of night?”

      “Of course!”

      Afternoon arrived. Uneasily, still rubbing his head and now drinking cool water, Fratelli examined the blood-red vestments which were to be used for Good Friday’s service. He placed his glass of water down, walked over to where the vestments hung and carefully put them on.

      Then the people of Lucca gathered inside the cathedral to commemorate Jesus’s passion and ultimate death on the cross. Gianni was given the task of bearing a golden crucifix before the procession. The tall, heavy cross almost faltered in his small hands but determinedly, he kept grip on it.

      Somber chant rose overhead:

      “We adore you O Christ, and we bless you, for by your holy cross and resurrection, you have redeemed the world.”

      Fratelli austerely lead prayers and songs but the dull throbbing in his head felt worse. He pretended not to feel it but the pain became sharper and sharper. After his sermon, the words “Ouch, this hurts” suddenly slipped from his mouth! Noticing everyone heard him, he frantically pointed back to the crucifix as if implying that is exactly what Jesus felt. 

Chapter 8.

      The Journey.

      Laying down, holding a cold rag to his head, Cardinal Fratelli closed his eyes and tried to rest. Hearing footsteps, he sluggishly opened one eye then the other. Rodrigo stood over him.

      “I just wanted to tell you they are stripping the cathedral, covering the statues and making the altar bare,” he told him.

      “I already know that,” Fratelli remarked, “Please leave me alone.”

      “Well I brought you something to eat…”

      “Oh, thank you.”

      Mumbling something, Rodrigo set a plate of hard bread and figs on a nearby table and walked away. Fratelli himself sunk into a restful sleep.

      Waking up, he noticed the pain in his head was absent. At a leisurely pace, he began packing his things. Early next morning, he would be leaving with Rodrigo, Philomena and Gianni for the duke’s palace. It was an entire day’s journey. There, they’d celebrate the Mass of Easter Vigil. Though Fratelli felt unsure about not presiding over the worship, regretting that the eloquent homily he wrote would go unheard; he said nothing as he folded a red cassock.

      After a few items and garments were packed, Fratelli went downstairs and into the parlor. Philomena sat there, musing over the letter received from Lamberto II. A while ago, she’d taken it with Fratelli’s permission and kept reading it over. Imaging her and the duke’s son dancing on a beautiful, moonlit porch before a great palace, she shuddered with anticipation.

      Then, she saw Fratelli’s obvious frown. He took the letter saying, “You have looked at that enough. Stop obsessing.”

      Irritated she replied, “What do you care?”

      Fratelli walked to a chair and sat across from her. Summoning patience, he said, “Philomena, I know the duke’s son better than you. He is a reveler and pleasure-seeker, not a good man to court.”

      Philomena seemed to listen for a moment then she snorted, feeling again encroached upon, and stood.

      “Let me make my own decisions,” she stated flatly.

      As she left, the cardinal rested his chin on his hands and pondered. How was he ever going to convince her? Maybe she was right: she had to make her own decision…and learn from it.

      ~ ~ ~

      “Where is my ring?” Cardinal Fratelli asked no one in particular as he fumbled around his night-stand in near darkness.

      A small lamp aided his sight. Outside the skies were still inky black as dawn waited hours away.

      “I can’t find it, I can’t find it!” he cried.

      Dina heard his lamenting and came into the room, holding her bright lamp against the dark.

      “What’s wrong, Your Eminence?”

      “I cannot find my ring… We have to leave very shortly, the coach is already here and it’s nowhere to be seen!” he moaned.

      Dina crossed her arms then suggested, “Alright, alright, I’m sure if you calm down, you’ll find the ring.”

      Fratelli stuttered, “I already tried being calm and didn’t find it.”

      “Your Eminence, have you looked on the floor?”

      “The floor? I’m not getting on the floor.”

      “Well then…” Dina muttered as she left.

      Grumbling, Fratelli got on his hands and knees and began peering underneath the furniture. He searched vigorously until in the corner of his eye, he saw something shiny beneath the bed. The ring! Scooping it into his hands, he smiled and climbed afoot. He then saw Gianni standing impatiently by the door. Wearing a fine, black suit with pearly buttons, he fidgeted and eventually said, “They’re waiting for you.”

      Fratelli beckoned and told Gianni to fetch his gloves, carry them downstairs and wait. Feeling tired yet excited, the boy obeyed and disappeared. Before blowing out the lamp beside him, Fratelli grabbed a draping, scarlet cloak trimmed with white ermine fur and gently slung it over his shoulder.

      Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Fratelli blundered into Father Rodrigo and slipped. Both cardinal and cloak tumbled downwards. Rodrigo caught the precious cloth, letting the cardinal fall! Glancing up angrily, Fratelli said nothing. It was too early to become upset. He only stood, nonchalantly dusted himself off and followed Rodrigo outside.

      Cold air enveloped them. Rodrigo hugged his own black cloak tighter and Fratelli shivered. Gianni silently waited for them, sitting across from Philomena who nodded back to sleep. Growing antsy, the boy watched as Rodrigo helped Fratelli don his cloak. Finally, Fratelli lifted the long cape off the ground and boarded the coach with Rodrigo right behind. In quite a hurry, they closed the door.  Quickly under dark skies, the coach took off and a small piece of red cloth hung out of its side, flapping in the wind.

      Despite bumps and jolts in the road, everyone fell asleep. It was early morning when Fratelli awoke. Bright sun shone over them causing the jeweled collar of Philomena’s dress to glitter. Blinking tiredly, Fratelli removed his gloves, lowered the curtains, turned over and went back to sleep. However, by now, Gianni stirred awake.  For several minutes he sat still then quickly grew bored. He twiddled his thumbs then toyed with the curtains and at last spoke:

      “How long is it till we’re there?”

      Fratelli kept his eyes shut and ignored him, hoping he would cease speaking and just leave him alone. He felt a persistent finger poking his arm.

      “What do you want” the cardinal asked irately.

      “How long is it till we’re there?” Gianni repeated.

      Fratelli answered, “Not until nightfall now please be quiet.”

      Gianni frowned, huffed and scrunched tightly in his seat. He couldn’t sleep and began softly humming.

      “Gianni!” Fratelli hissed.

      “Sorry, Sir, I mean-Your Eminence.”

      Later, they ate a small meal of bread with thick slices of mozzarella cheese and cured salami. Fratelli gladly noticed that Dina also packed some olives in their lunch-basket. Rodrigo uncorked a bottle of wine and they drank peacefully. Amidst the silence, Philomena started feeling nervous. She couldn’t imagine the luxury and excitement that would greet her at the duke’s palace. Looking forward to meeting Lamberto II, she folded her hands together and glanced out the window. Scrubby fields and green vineyards blurred past. Tall hills shrank in the distance. She then met eyes with Fratelli, who stopped munching on his bread and stared back. The struggle of wills again reemerged.

      This time, Philomena looked away first. She fixed her attention on the rolling scenery outside. Fratelli quietly ruminated, allowing no one else to perceive his apprehensive, circling thoughts. What did await them?