Cardinal Fratelli's Christmas, ch 8 and 9

Chapter  8.

Marriage.

           After morning-prayer and Mass, Fratelli strolled into the parlor where a tall but heavyset man waited. His slick, curly, black hair was tied back. Seeing Fratelli he bowed and kissed his ring.

          “I am Chef Tontino and I am honored to cook for your party,” he said in a thick

accent.

           “I am pleased to have you. My aunt praises your skill.”

           The man laughed, his belly rippling. He then took Fratelli’s hand leading him into the kitchen. Turning around, he spoke loudly, “What I will prepare for your party I have already decided: tender veal, roasted lamb with spinach and three cheeses, stuffed, bright-red peppers, risotto and fine eggplant pastries. For dessert, I’ll make rich, chocolate cannoli and a butter cake.”

           Fratelli’s head grew dizzy at all this. Francine planned something very splendid indeed. Suddenly, the cardinal said:

         “I would love butter squash casserole also, it is my favorite around Christmastime.”

         “But that is a peasant food!”

          “I don’t care, I like the taste!”

          He agreed to Tontino’s menu- squash casserole included. Dina entered and spoke to him also. She inquired as what number of servers would be needed.

             Finding Fratelli lingered, curiously listening, she turned and scolded him, “Go on now get, we will take care of this all.”

           After working in his office for a few hours, Fratelli strolled in his garden. He almost became startled when Paolo appeared. Though still somewhat disheartened at having a stranger there amongst his prized herbage, he smiled and gave greeting.

           He went back indoors to continue his work. Hearing scampering footsteps behind him, Fratelli turned and saw Gianni dart past his office door, down the hallway. He unseated, caught up with the boy and grabbed his sleeve.

           “What are you still doing here?” he demanded as Gianni squirmed.

           “Your Eminence!”

           Fratelli jumped and released the boy who ran behind Dina’s oncoming figure.

          “How could you be so cruel?”

          “I...I was just surprised,” the cardinal stammered then pointed to the floor that was littered with muddy footprints, “and look, he tracked mud through the house!”

         “I am shocked at this display of lack of charity, Your Eminence,” Dina said as Fratelli now stared aside, feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

         She always had a way of doing that to him even when he was completely right. Dina’s matronly behavior and sharp voice quickly commanded and usually, he obliged. However, Fratelli glanced up, his intelligent, amber-colored eyes shining, and firmly stood ground. Slow, gentle, he addressed her:

         “Alright, since the boy has no parents or home that we know of, he can stay- but I want him civilized and going to Mass every day…and I want him to clean up this mess.”

           Gianni grinned wryly and Dina nudged him.

          “You heard His Eminence. You made that mess- now, let’s clean it up,” she said.

          Gianni moaned plaintively. This time, the cardinal won. Fratelli smiled and hid a laugh.

          Distantly, the clock-tower struck noon. From inside the cathedral, Fratelli heard its brazen gong. Smelling faint odors of melted wax and resinous incense, he waited for people to come forth confessing their sins. As Advent drew near, hearts would open towards God, prepare for his coming in the flesh, and realize need for repentance. Someone neared casting their shadow through the screen beside him and spoke:

          “Bless me father, for I have sinned, it’s been such a long time…”

          He instantly recognized the man’s voice.

          “Ernesto, my brother, you are here! Nothing pleases me more than your good spiritual welfare.”

          Slightly blunt, he asked, “So do you memorize all our voices?”

          Fratelli crossed himself, flustered and said, “How can I not recognize my own brother?”

         “Anyway,” Ernesto continued, “I am upset with my wife. Though I love her dearly, you know, she says I don’t listen to her well enough nor pay attention. When I arrive home from work, it’s very late and I’m tired. However, she wishes I attend her every need. The more exhausted I feel, the more demanding she gets…”

         “Your sin?”

         “I’m getting to that… Last night, I yelled at her and said she was selfish. She started crying. I feel awful.”

         Slight irritation simmered in Fratelli. Yet, he knew Ernesto meant no harm.

           “It is so easy for us to lose our tempers,” the cardinal explained, “I may not know about marriage firsthand but I have seen it is a sacrifice- on both your parts, and sometimes we hurt most easily those we love the most.”

           “What can I do?” Ernesto pleaded, “She’s so upset at me right now.”

          “Go to her Ernesto, just as you went before the Lord today. She can’t be any more frightening than the Lord Almighty.”

          “I wouldn’t be so sure…”

           Fratelli gulped.

           “I’ll make a suggestion, why don’t you both come here for dinner tonight?

            As Ernesto, wearing his police uniform, and Michele, clad in a mint-green dress, sat down to dinner with Cardinal Fratelli, a knock sounded at the door. Opening it Dina saw Monsignor Barolo, face wrinkled, white-haired and leaning on a cane. Surprised at this visit, she led him to the dining room where Fratelli stood and greeted, “Barolo, old friend, come and join us!”

        “I heard you are hosting a fine party on Christmas Day,” Barolo began, “and that you invited me. I came here to discuss it with you.”

        “Go ahead Monsignor, sit down,” Fratelli replied.

        He unseated and helped the old man to walk, pull out a chair and sit. Ernesto and Michele actually felt glad at the priest’s imposition. Now, they didn’t need to discuss their problems. Beneath the table, Ernesto gripped Michele’s hand. He would make amends for upsetting her but didn’t know how right at this moment. He showed her affection and apologized with a sincere gaze.

        Barolo and Fratelli spoke while they ate. However, the cardinal wasn’t about to ignore his other company. He asked, “Monsignor, remember how beautiful Michele looked on her wedding.”

        “Yes, her dress had pearls and lace white as new snow.” Monsignor answered.

        Ernesto laughed, seeing Michele blush. Gently touching his small mustache, he began, softly, as if lost in the memory:
         “It was a beautiful June afternoon, the trees bloomed and birds sang. I remember the strains of “Laudate”, the opening chant, sung sweetly. Most of all, I remember Michele in that shimmering dress, amongst the little flowers… Such beauty- it made me nervous.”

        He then looked at Michele and added, “I felt I was not worthy…and still feel that way.”

        “Oh Ernesto!” she cried.

        Fratelli smiled. Apparently, his brother knew how to make her happy.

       “Seeing this lifts my soul,” Fratelli spoke, “Praise be to God for making his love known to us in the love between a husband and wife.”

Chapter 9.

Family Comes In.

Days later, on Saturday, while Cardinal Fratelli sat scribbling notes for Sunday’s sermon, Dina came in and announced:

“Your Eminence, there is a problem…”

It was one thing he didn’t want to hear. Fratelli unseated and went into the parlor, finding the florist from the week before. His hair, still grey as ice and tied back, glinted off the sunlight. He bowed reverently then spoke:

“Many apologies, your flowers, the poinsettias, I had gathered an order from several florist shops however, most of them died during the storm.”

Pretending to be unfazed, Fratelli simply asked, “How many are left?”

“One dozen.”

Fratelli’s amber eyes widened. His lips quivered while he searched for a response. All efforts to remain dignified melted and he threw up hands, loudly sighed and sat down.

“I am so very sorry,” the florist said bowing profoundly.

“It’s not your fault,” Fratelli muttered, “That storm had been unusual for this time of year. You couldn’t have known…”

“I promise, Your Eminence, that I’ll take your next order without charge.”

Fratelli put one hand beneath his chin and replied, “Maybe next Easter, we will see.”

Left alone, Fratelli frowned and sighed again. Secretly, he never wanted the poinsettias. They were Francine’s idea yet they'd planned the Christmas décor to center on these brilliant, red flowers. Changes will be made. At least, he mused, everything wasn’t ruined…

During Sunday Mass, Fratelli kept his sermon short and then hurried home. While in his room, changing into his ordinary, red cassock, someone knocked. Answering, he saw Gianni.

“What are you doing?” he asked meekly.

“Why are you so nosy?” Fratelli retorted.

Ignoring his question, Gianni continued, “Why do you wear all that red? Don’t you have normal clothes?”

Figuring to satisfy the boy’s curiosity, Fratelli answered, “No Gianni, clergy have sworn themselves to God and so they put on Christ daily.”

As he descended the stairs, Gianni followed him. Finally, Fratelli quickened pace, rushed into his office and shut the door behind him. Backed against the door, Fratelli signed in relief. Then he approached the desk, shuffled though a pile of papers and began reading various documents. No one else disturbed him till noon when Dina knocked lightly on the door and brought him tea.

“Why are you mean to that boy?” she abruptly inquired.

“He keeps following me around, asking silly questions…why are you nice to him?” Fratelli countered.

“Your Eminence…”

Dina sat in the chair across from him and slowly stated, “There perhaps isn’t something I told you. Why I love children so much…because I can’t have any of my own.”

“No?”

“No.”

“…oh.”

Fratelli stared aside sheepishly, eyeing the faded trees outside his window. Some lost their leaves in late fall however most remained green only turning greyish. The hedges flourished drinking up cold air. However, the scene didn’t distract him from his growing remorse.

“That is why I cherish being with Gianni,” Dina then said breaking the silence, “The child just gladdens my heart.”

“Dina, I am sorry. I didn’t realize keeping Gianni here made you happy,” He stood then added, “I’ll do my best, I suppose.”

That meant teaching Gianni how to do various kinds of housework in exchange for small pay, listening to his endless, pointless questions and not losing one’s temper when he tracked mud on the floor. Not once, did Fratelli demand that he return the candlestick he’d stolen, though it occupied his mind now and then, and tried hard to remain friendly- even when the boy finished off his olives.

Dressed in fine, pressed clothes, Gianni answered the door as Francine’s eldest daughter; the pleasantly smiling, fair skinned, black-haired Iona bustled in. Her arms clutched several bags and set them down in the hallway.

“Angelo, I’m here!”

“Good, good, hello Iona,” Fratelli responded, “Was your travel well?”

“We had some trouble,” her husband suddenly said entering behind.

He placed a leather suit-case onto the floor and took Fratelli’s hand, kissing the cardinal’s golden ring. Iona laughed at Fratelli’s overwhelmed expression. However, he didn’t mind and led them both into the parlor. He moved to lift their bags then told Gianni he should carry these. Groaning, rolling his eyes, the boy obeyed.

Iona wore a fine, deep blue dress which contrasted her husband’s drabber garb. They sat together waiting for Fratelli. At once, he approached with a wide smile on his lips.

“How much I’ve missed you!” he shouted.

“Angelo, Your Eminence, you are looking well and handsome as always,” Iona told him, “We are so happy to stay here for Christmas.”

Fratelli rested, also excitedly speaking with them while Dina came in with a bottle of wine. She clutched many glasses between her fingers. Seeing her struggle to place them down, Fratelli stood. However, soon as he removed one glass from her hand, another fell shattering on the floor. Iona screeched in surprise.

Dina scolded, “Your Eminence, go sit down with your family!”

Frowning, the cardinal resumed sitting and conversing with Iona and her husband. Gianni snuck back into the parlor and listened intently. For a few minutes, he mocked Fratelli’s sweeping gestures then grew bored and left.

Fratelli retired late and rose early, bumbling through morning prayers and gulped two cups of tea during breakfast. Despite this, he fell asleep amidst reading in the office, his head laying atop the desk, on a pillow made of stacked papers. Seeing him, Iona and her husband crept past so as not to wake him and stepped outdoors.

“Such a nice garden,” Iona remarked.

Drawn to the pristine, white roses, she cupped one in her hand and savored its fragrance. Putting an arm around Iona, her husband lightly kissed her. He moved closer for another. She swatted him away.

“Not here!”

He insisted, “No one is watching. Why can’t we share romance in this beautiful garden?”

“It’s just not right. We are guests.”

“Oh Iona, you are too sensitive. Stop behaving like a little girl.”

Upset, she crossed her arms and huffed.

“How dare you!” she cried out loudly, scaring a bird from the trees.

They argued for some short time before a sleepy Cardinal Fratelli poked his head outside and said:

“Well, good afternoon to you too.”

Cardinal Fratelli's Christmas, ch. 6-7

Chapter 6.

Business

As the second week of Advent passed, Fratelli's injured toe felt less painful though it displayed an odd range of colors. He began putting in action plans for his party. Wednesday morning, he began writing letters to his family, inviting them all to his house. Usually, they feasted at Francine’s house on Christmas Day even though there was more room in Fratelli’s villa. His aunt always had been an exceptional hostess. Also, they would be meeting later in the day. All this information, he included in each letter.

After writing these letters, Fratelli forced himself to finish overlooking the theological book which sat on his desk, gathering grey dust. He blew the dust off it and continued reading as afternoon sun glowed through the windows. At a quarter after two, he finally finished the book, scribbled a few notes then went in his chapel to pray.

Kneeling before the linen covered, candle-lit altar, staring at the ruby-red sanctuary lamp, which glowed above, and golden tabernacle which housed the Body of Christ, Fratelli mouthed a silent prayer. Lastly, he concluded aloud,

“Lord, please guide me in my daily actions…as you know, this book, which awaits my approval, has been driving me mad. Yet, there is nothing in it contradictory to your Gospel. Direct my heart and my words also for you alone are righteous and the source of all righteousness…”

He stood up, bowed before the sacred tabernacle and departed. Donning his draping, red cloak, he grabbed his wide-brimmed hat and walking stick and walked outside. Despite dry weather, the garden was fully green. Roses bowed their heads slowly telling the season’s passage. Beneath their withered leaves waited swollen, new buds. Paolo indeed did a nice job keeping the plants healthy and vibrant.

           Feeling a light wind stir his brown locks, Fratelli decided it was best to stroll and make the necessary appointments for his party before the air grew too cold. First, he visited a florist down the street. Entering into the small, roadside shop for a first time ever, since all the flowers he needed came from his garden, Fratelli looked about at bouquets of lilies, various fragrant grasses and tiny, white flowers. Reaching out one hand, he touched a flower and sniffed its sweet fragrance. Suddenly, he jumped hearing a voice,

“Hello there!”

Fratelli gazed down as delicate petals crumbled in his startled fingers swishing to the floor.

“I…I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

The man approaching had sparse, grey hair tied back, a white frock and dirt beneath his fingernails. He saw the crumbled flower but said nothing. Arching his bushy brows, he replied, “Your Eminence, it is a surprise to see you here.”

“Yes, I know.”

An awkward pause ensued. Finally, Fratelli asked, “Can you acquire for me red poinsettias? Six dozen?”

“That is a lot…you may have to order them from a couple other stores. But don’t bother yourself, I will contact them.”

“That is fine. Thank you.”

Next, Fratelli went to Luigi, telling him he would need a whole lamb and a whole calf. He spoke with several cooks from the nearby “Ristorante” and then tiredly headed home. Reaching his doorway, he checked Francine’s notes and realized he’d forgotten to inquire at the opera house, which had closed by now, about the musicians. I can’t do everything in one day, he mused; it will have to wait. Soon as he came in the door, he faced Father Rodrigo who nervously licked his lips and said, “Your Eminence, why didn’t you have me make all these appointments? I’m your secretary.”

“I couldn’t find you Rodrigo…”

“That’s because I was fetching your mail…you couldn’t wait?”

“I was too excited,” Fratelli replied then scowled, adding, “Why are you scolding me? Be quiet and obedient.”

Huffing, Rodrigo pursed his mouth and withdrew. He wondered how Dina got away with being bold…

At dinner, two assistant priests and a deacon joined them. Fratelli happily shared his table, inviting Dina to sit with them.

“You should take a rest,” he explained.

Everything was well until Fratelli and one of the young priests reached simultaneously towards the last two olives. They froze their arms and stared at eachother. Tension engulfed the room.

“Ummm, Your Eminence,” the priest murmured timidly, “You can have them.”

Fratelli then snapped his arm back.

            “What am I thinking?” he asked aloud, “The first shall be the last. They’re yours Father Adreo.”

Hesitantly, lest the cardinal should change his mind and get upset, Adreo scooped up the last two olives and ate them quickly- as if getting away with something.

It happened that Francine was just as excited as Fratelli about the Christmas feast. Early next morning, she met him in the hallway and inquired about his appointments.

“I ordered the flowers,” he said sleepily.

“…and the ones I suggested?”

“Yes Francine.”

“Oh, I spoke with my friend who is a great chef and he offered to run the kitchen on Christmas. Isn’t that wonderful!”

“Yes, that is fine but can I meet him?”

“Of course Angelo…I mean, Your Eminence.”

Smiling, Fratelli said goodbye and proceeded to his office. While sun poured in and warmed the entire room, Fratelli drew up a note and penned his approval, granting the imprimatur for that theological book. Then, he blew dust off it once more and gladly gave it to Rodrigo. Sitting back, he wiped sweat from his forehead and imagined the glee and wonder that waited on Christmas Day. Thirst slowly caked his mouth and he unseated going towards the kitchen. Dina blocked his way saying, “No, Your Eminence, sit down, I will get you water.”

“How did you know I wanted water?”

She grinned impatiently and retorted, “I have been working here for three years and I just know. Now go.”

He sat in the parlor when she came bearing two tall glasses of water. Confused Fratelli eyed them.

“Why are there two?”

Dina laughed, sitting across the room, resting and closing her eyes against flooding sunlight. She then eyed him back and answered:

           “It will be very warm in the cathedral and I supposed you might want something cool to drink while overhearing confessions this evening.”

           Fratelli felt stricken by her thoughtfulness. He also felt awkward showing any endearment towards her. Now standing, facing the window, he spoke,

          “Why thank you very much, bless you.”

      

               Chapter 7.

            A Storm

  

Cold winds rushed over the city of Lucca, beating stucco buildings and window panes. Rain began to fall, turning skies grey. Stormy torrents howled while Fratelli glanced out the window. He worried for Dina had left earlier that day and hadn’t yet returned. He was also supposed to meet with the head chef for his Christmas party. Seeing the inclement weather, he supposed this meeting wasn’t going to happen. However, he felt lingering concern about Dina.

Finally, unable to wait anymore, Fratelli donned shoes, wrapped his supple, scarlet cloak around himself and trudged through the yard squinting against cold winds. He removed his red cap and shoved it in a pocket, lest it blow away, and walked onto the street. Reaching an intersection, Fratelli paused, letting a carriage bustle by. The horse in front snorted lightly visible breath.

Where is Dina? Coming around a corner, Fratelli suddenly saw Dina’s cloaked figure kneeling and speaking with a young, golden-haired boy: Gianni. The cardinal rushed forth, his red cape billowing behind him and exclaimed, “Dina, I’m sure glad to find you. The storm is getting worse.”

Immediately, Gianni looked up, eyed bright and said, “That is the man who was mean to me!”

Dina now stared at Fratelli. Her arms folded as he stuttered, “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes he was” Gianni argued, “He chased me out of the church…”

“Your Eminence!”

“No…no, he stole a candlestick,” Fratelli asserted.

“I can’t believe you would accuse this innocent little boy of such a thing!”

Fratelli blushed horribly and groaned. Teeth clenched together, he stood silent. The old woman’s words came to mind: a nasty street-urchin, indeed. At Dina’s next words, he stirred, jaw hanging ajar:

“Come home with us and we’ll get you a warm meal.”

The cardinal opened his mouth to protest but no words came out. Dina already took Gianni’s small hand, a pitying look on her face, leading him down the street. Huffing and rather upset, Cardinal Fratelli tried to eat supper in the parlor but Dina nicely asked he join her and Gianni in the dining room.  Hiding his frustration, wearing a pleasant smile, Fratelli entered the dining room and blessed the food. He sat down then quietly helped himself to fish, olives and bruschetta, a type of toast covered with roasted tomatoes. Gianni glared from across the table and he ignored the boy, paying more attention to the winds and rain that beat upon the windows.

Dina spoke, “What is your name, dear boy?”

“I’m Gianni.”

“No last name?”

“I dunno…”

“Would you like a pastry for desert?” Dina then asked.

He smiled back and ever-politely replied, “Yes ma’am.”

When Dina unseated, taking their dirty plates and going into the kitchen, Fratelli leaned over whispering to Gianni, “You may believe you have tricked her by acting so sweet and innocuous, but I know what you did…”

   The boy grinned, looking downwards in a faint display of shame.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“What did you say?”

Reluctantly, the boy repeated, “I am sorry.”

“Well…” Fratelli said sitting back, expressing delight but unsure if this show of remorse was genuine.

Returning, Dina, set a pastry before Gianni, its crust golden brown as the boy’s hair.

“Where is mine?” Fratelli inquired.

“That one was the last one, Your Eminence,” she responded, “And you said it yourself that guests should always have the last of what’s left.”

Gianni suppressed a laugh. As the cardinal stated hotly at him, he once again adopted that shameful, apologetic face. Then he readily gobbled up the dessert. A clap of thunder instantly startled them all, Fratelli almost jumping from his chair. Gianni excitedly ran to the window, pressing his face against the glass as rain pummeled down.

“What a horrid storm!” Dina exclaimed, “Your Eminence, can you let the boy stay here…he has no home, nowhere to go.”

Charity always came first for clergymen- even grumpy, irate clergymen; it was unbefitting to say no. How could he?

All fell quiet in the house. The only sounds heard were from winds and rain outside. With a lamp in his hand, Fratelli snuck downstairs and into his chapel. There, in relative darkness, he lit four candles that had blown out and knelt, basking prayerfully in their yellow glow.

“What are you doing?” a voice interrupted.

Close beside him, Gianni stood; his fair face angelic in candlelight. However, he wasn’t fooling the cardinal.

“I am praying,” he answered flatly, “Well, I was praying.”

“Oh,” Gianni said and still stood there, lips pursed, hovering at his side.

Fratelli ignored him and resumed praying. Facing the altar, he uttered, “Pater noster qui es in caelis (1).”

         “What are you saying?”

          Irritated, Fratelli kept speaking in fluent Latin.

         Gianni now shouted:

         “Hello!”

         “What do you want!” Fratelli shouted back.

          Startled, the boy laughed a bit then scurried off.

         Now alone, Fratelli sighed, “Lord Christ, is this another test? Grant me patience and mercy, O God, should I fail, for I am near losing my temper with this lad. I don’t want to be angry… I am not pleasant when I’m angry. Keep me from sin.”

  

        Next morning, dawn light flooded brightly through the villa’s tall windows. Cardinal Fratelli reluctantly came for breakfast. He feared Gianni would still be there, eating his food and behaving in his sly, obnoxious manner- and those fears were confirmed. Gianni sat at the dining room table, kicking his feet and munching on a handful of figs. He smiled at Fratelli who yawned, reaching for the tea.

          “Can I have some?” Gianni suddenly asked.

          “No, you seem awake enough,” Fratelli grumbled.

          “Your Eminence, be nice,” Dina remarked coming from behind with a cup of milk, “Here, Gianni, you can have this.”

   Sighing softly, Fratelli leaned back, eyeing drops of rain which fell from tree branches, the clean, vivid green grass and a lone sparrow flying upward. Sun fell warmly upon the storm-wearied earth. Anxious, he took his teacup outside on the veranda and sat, thinking quietly to himself. Yes, he acknowledged his robes were getting wet from the soaked, wicker chair and residual mists, yes, he may be shivering slightly- but he felt finally at peace.

Cardinal Fratelli's Christmas, ch 4-5

        Chapter 4.

                Hooligan

              Nearing the weekend, the weather grew colder. Autumn swept over Lucca in one, great burst. Leaves danced in wind as farmers harvested crops and vintners pressed their wine. The whole city broke from summer’s laziness. Men and women crowded the streets going about daily work, sounds and smells cluttered the air.

               On Saturday, after evening prayer, as he did during winter’s approach, Cardinal Fratelli left the cathedral open for any homeless people wishing to escape the cold. Clutching his red cape to his chest, he braved the coming winds and walked to the cathedral, carrying bread and butter. Father Rodrigo ambled behind with fruit and hot tea. The cathedral’s warm, candle-lit glow greeted them. A statue of Mother Mary held out her benevolent hands in prayer. There, they set out a clandestine dinner for their less fortunate guests, allowing them to eat in the church aisle or on makeshift tables.

              While they dined, Fratelli blessed them saying, “And you shall eat there in the sight of the Lord your God: and you shall rejoice in all things, whereunto you shall put your hand, you and your houses wherein the Lord your God hath blessed you. (1)”

             One of the old women beseeched Fratelli and he stooped, conversing with her as they ate. Suddenly standing up, he caught a boy’s dark eyes leering at him. Sitting under a graceful, stone arch, the boy had light, golden-brown hair that fell in a mess and ragged, grey clothes. His eyes stayed steadily upon the cardinal who neared.

            “Did you eat?” Fratelli asked.

            Strait-faced, the boy replied, “Go away.”

           Fratelli blushed; his lips stumbled for a response. Instead, he just whispered a blessing and left. Halfway down the aisle, he looked back and saw the boy still staring at him. Maybe, he will be glad if I give him some clean clothes? Fratelli thought. He went into his house and searched though some items which were donated to the church. Grabbing a nicely folded shirt, some pantaloons and a cloth bag, he walked back.

         Given these items, the boy expressed slight gratitude then paced towards the marble altar. Fratelli was moved by this seeming piety. All of sudden, the boy scrambled up the sanctuary steps, snatched a golden candlestick, hid it in the bag he was just given and darted out a side-door.  Fratelli cried out, instantly pursuing after. He ran out the door, jumped down the steps and chased the thief’s departing shadow through the courtyard. However, stopping at the iron fence, heaving and leaning on the grate, he didn’t see anyone anymore.

           Rodrigo came forth.

           “Your Eminence, why are you like that? All out of breath?”

           “You didn’t see him…” Fratelli panted, “That little hooligan stole a candlestick….right from the altar!”

           Helping Fratelli stand and walk over the grass, Rodrigo pointed east then asked, “He went that way?”

           “Yes, yes.”

           “Well perhaps you can describe him to Ernesto, your brother?”

            Fratelli waved his hand vainly.

           “Never mind… He’s just a child- and anyone who steals something that intently, must have need of it.”

           Rodrigo shrugged.

          Once inside, the cardinal excused himself and rested in the parlor. Rodrigo followed discovering him sitting in his favorite chair, thinking, periodically scribbling something on a piece of paper. His plans for Christmas- no doubt. Knowing he was being watched, Fratelli gazed up and beckoned.

        “Do you think we should have a baker to make fine cakes?”

        “Sure…”

        “You don’t seem interested Rodrigo.”

        “No I am,” the priest said sitting in the chair across him, “I am just tired.”

         “I see. Advent can be a time of busy preparation… preparing for the Lord. We are all so excited and expectant…and yes, busy.”

         He paused, glancing out the window at dark trees pierced by dingy street-lamps. Cold settled over the sky, whistling on wind.

           “Did you bring blankets to the cathedral?”

           Rodrigo froze, color draining from his face.

           “Oh yes, I must do that!” he gasped, “Please forgive my absentmindedness.”

           “Well, we may have to ask their forgiveness,” Fratelli said standing holding out one hand to stop Rodrigo from leaving; “I will go. Maybe that boy will have returned there.”

With blankets bundled over his arms, Fratelli strolled to the cathedral. Many people were glad to see him and gave fond greetings. He distributed the blankets and remained for some time talking with those gathered. One of them, an old woman, sat in a pew and reminisced about bygone years when her family was more fortunate. Fratelli stayed, listening, feeling that the world could sometimes be very unfair. He consoled the women and told her she was always welcome to the church. Then, he thought to ask:

“Do any of you know a boy, about 13 years old, with blondish hair? He had been here earlier…maybe some of you even saw him run out of the church?”

“Oh yes,” the old woman replied, “That’s Gianni. He’s a no-good street-urchin!”

“Oh,” Fratelli muttered.

He had a feeling this wasn’t the last he’d hear of Gianni. In fact, his heart stirred with pity. Surely, the boy behaved badly for a reason? Maybe had no parents? He tried not to worry himself too much about it and said farewell. Rushing home through the cold courtyard, he once again hugged his cloak tightly.

Chapter 5.

Market Day.

Autumn harvest-season meant one main thing to Fratelli- olives and new wine. He was anxious to have both in the household, a perfect condiment for himself and for guests. Monday came slowly but at dawn, Fratelli eagerly rose, dressed and said morning-prayer. He hurriedly went to the cathedral and celebrated Mass. Much of his audience consisted of the poor and homeless people from last night. Wearing a tall, plain, white miter and violet vestments, Fratelli kindly spoke:

“Blessed are you who suffer in this life, for in your pain and trial, you are united to Christ. Your cries will be heard, gentle children. Jesus Christ came on earth in the vesture of one poor and lowly, who being in very nature, God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. (1). The King of kings was once poor and lonely just like you... most blessed children.

Let me admit, that you should not be pitied, for the likes of you shall judge princes and kings! I could only aspire for the holiness, which you possess simply in your daily lives… You are more akin to Christ than me... O blessed ones!”

            After Mass, he met Dina in the kitchen to go over what they needed from the market.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Fratelli offered once she had drawn up a list.

“No, I don’t need help,” she replied.

Fratelli didn’t object as she strolled out, carrying a handbag over her shoulder and a large basket. He knew that theological document still sat on his desk, still beckoned his attention. Entering the office, he grabbed the book, sat and read where he’d left off. Halfway through…

~ ~ ~

Bright sun beamed down on Dina’s brown curls as she walked city streets, coming to the piazza which sprawled with people tending various wares. The food market also stood there. Fresh smells hit her nose and she breathed deeply with delight. Amidst the crowds and clamor, she felt at peace by simply doing her work.

After buying a large bag of olives, some oil and flour, Dina found Luigi and picked out a nice cut of meat for dinner. The thick-shouldered, black-haired man smiled as he handed her two pork-chops and a roll of cured prosciutto over the counter. Leaving Luigi’s shop, Dina almost bumped into Francine’s oncoming figure.

“Oh, hello Dina!” the woman said, her auburn tinted hair glimmering in sunlight, “Why isn’t my nephew, the cardinal, here helping you?”

Dina shifted the items in her arms and responded, “I told him to stay home.”

“Well, let me help you,” Francine offered, “I’m going that way.”

Before Dina could answer, Francine already took several things from her then began walking. Sighing, Dina followed. They came to the villa, entering through a side door and Francine helped Dina put her newly-purchased items on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, while I am here,” Francine began, “I will visit my nephew. Where is he?”

 “Probably in his office.”

“Thank you dear!” Francine said and rushed out.

Indeed, Cardinal Fratelli sat in his office, back turned to the sunny window, reading the theological book. Francine knocked on the wall startling him.

“Oh, it’s you…hello,” Fratelli said.

“What have you there?”

Fratelli’s brows arched somewhat surprised Francine would take any interest in what he worked on. For the longest time, the two of them fought and now, she made earnest efforts to behave friendly.

“It is a theological treatise, submitted this month for an imprimatur,” Fratelli explained, “Though there seems to be nothing doctrinally incorrect, it is very boring!”

He tossed the book onto his desk letting it land with a heavy thud. Francine snickered then covered her mouth.

“Actually Francine, I did wish to speak with you…” Fratelli then said.

“Me?”

“Yes…”

The cardinal stood, removing his red cap, placing it atop the desk and gestured for her to follow as he moved into the hallway.

“I want to host a very nice party for the Feast of the Nativity,” he started, “…however, I know next to nothing about planning good events, but you do.”

Francine clasped a hand to her chest and spoke joyfully, “Oh, you thought of me! Come, come into the parlor and we’ll discuss it. I have so many great ideas!”

They sat conversing as Francine took Fratelli’s notes, crossed them out and started penning her own ideas on a separate paper. While Fratelli conceived of a splendid party, Francine thought it should be spectacularly splendid.

“Here is what you’ll do: Hire pastry chefs and cooks, have them make all the food. I know someone I can talk with on this matter,” Francine rambled as Fratelli’s mind swirled trying to collect it all, “You want three violinists and one cellist for music, that way the sound will be rich and deep. Oh, and for flowers you don’t want daisies, why did you write down daisies? No, we want poinsettias, brilliant and red!”

Fratelli frowned.

But I don’t like…” he began only to get interrupted.

“Oh and we need an entertainer- maybe a magician…”

“No magicians, they are irreligious!” Fratelli finally shouted.

“How about some exotic birds, they’re God’s creatures…”

“Fine.”

He crossed his arms, quietly huffing. Thinking a moment, he then spoke, “Also I want to have brightly wrapped presents for the poor children.”

“Why?”

“They deserve gifts too Francine…”

“Oh, you are so silly Angelo!”

He cringed, hearing his name. Francine ignored his displeasure and continued her boisterous speech. This was going to be harder than he imagined.

After Francine left, handing Fratelli quite a stack of notes, he exhaled deeply and closed the door. Everything fell silent. He set the notes down on his desk, listened to a bird distantly singing and delicately crossed himself.

“Lord, help me,” he said.

Suddenly, Dina stepped into the hallway, her face glad but now frowning as she looked upon the tired cardinal. She hesitated then announced, “The new wine is here.”

Fratelli walked to the side door and went outside. There a tall, muscular man unloaded barrels from a cart. Carmel-colored hides glistening in sunset, four draft-horses cranked their necks at Fratelli’s approach and snorted.

“Thank you so much Carlo,” he said to the man who set one barrel by the door and looked up, dark eyes shining with vigor.

Carlo bowed in greeting, kissed the cardinal’s ring then turned back to his work. Fratelli smelled fragrant, old wood as another barrel was placed down. He curiously moved closer. When Carlo unloaded the third barrel, Fratelli swerved aside, believing he’d moved out of the way, but felt a horrible pain as it was shoved right onto his toe. He hollered loudly, startling Carlo who gaped and swiftly rolled the barrel aside.

Fratelli hopped, grabbing his hurt foot while Dina helped him stand and scolded him for getting in the way. Carlo profusely apologized, “I am so, so sorry Your Eminence! Please forgive me!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine…” Fratelli muttered, “All is forgiven.”

“Go inside,” Dina told him.

He obeyed, limping into the kitchen where he removed his shoe then poured cold water on his swollen, red toe. Wincing, he prayed a silent prayer for strength and anticipated a glass of that new wine.