The Tuscan Contessa

by Dinah Jefferies

  They were silent for a few minutes.

  ‘What was that Anna said about Gabriella?’ Maxine asked.

  Sofia pulled a face. ‘She thinks she’s in love. She’s not stupid but school was tricky for her.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘She’s a bit stubborn.’

  ‘You mean simple-minded?’

  ‘No, not exactly. But the stubbornness and refusal to learn are hard to handle. I don’t like to pigeonhole her. She is who she is. Dreamy, inattentive, a bit vague. I tried to teach her to read but it was hopeless. She used to say the letters didn’t keep still on the page. We gave up in the end, but she’s good at other things, knows her plants and flowers and is wonderful with animals. Her little three-legged dog adores her.’

  ‘Ah, so it’s young love.’

  ‘Indeed … Shall we go in? It’s freezing.’

  The next day Maxine and Marco were shivering in a small clearing in the dense woods close to San Giovanni d’Asso, with an unusually fat partisan called Fazio and a couple of others. The men were kicking the ground to keep warm as they discussed the best way to get food to the partisans. Marco had previously suggested that each of them try to get hold of a chicken, some sausage or a bag of potatoes. Anything was better than nothing, after all, but they hadn’t come up with much, except for Fazio who had a goose under his arm.

  ‘Where the hell did you get that?’ Marco asked, taking off his hat and scratching the back of his head.

  Fazio narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘We can’t steal from those who have so little, you know that. One of the widows in San Giovanni used to keep geese.’

  Fazio’s face twitched. ‘She gave it to me.’

  Maxine sighed. ‘Can we just get on with it? Surely we need to be relieving the Germans of their food supplies?’

  ‘Easier said than done,’ Fazio muttered and then spat on the ground.

  ‘We know there is a German food camp not far from here,’ Maxine said. ‘Can’t you target that?’

  Marco nodded. ‘Exactly what I’m thinking. And there’s a farm not far from it. It belongs to Farmer Galdino. He’s old now, but I think he will help us. If he does, we’ll keep a lookout at the food camp tonight and then sleep in his barn. Fazio, you know where it is?’

  Fazio nodded.

  ‘Get the rest of the men to meet us there tomorrow night at ten. You, Maxine, need to press the British to drop more food parcels. That way we all play a part.’

  As the men slipped away Marco took hold of Maxine’s hand. ‘Come to the farm with me.’

  ‘Okay.’ She squeezed his hand then let it go. ‘Listen, Marco, my British liaison, Ronald, has ordered accelerated action. More disruption, nothing less than an armed uprising. Can you let the men know this? I realize it’s a challenge with the partisans still disorganized.’

  ‘A challenge? It’s hell. That’s what it is. We’re doing all we can. But it’s hard. Our men are facing danger, oppression, hunger and cold, with no end in sight.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘When were you in radio contact with Ronald?’

  ‘Last night. He also wants increased intelligence about enemy movements.’

  ‘We can try to do that and speed up the sabotage, I suppose, but it’s putting a strain on the men. The longer it goes on the harder it gets, physically and mentally.’

  ‘And yet we have no choice. You have to keep the pressure up, encourage the patrols to harass the Germans wherever they can.’

  ‘And then we have to be on the lookout for the spies who act as partisans by day and informants to the Nazis by night.’

  ‘I have faith in you.’

  As they walked on together, they eventually reached what must have once been a beautiful old farmhouse. Maxine could see how neglected it had become.

  ‘Who lives here now?’ she asked.

  ‘The old, the young.’

  He walked up to the door and knocked.

  A thin woman with white hair and wearing a worn blue apron opened the door and led them into a smoky room where, without a word, she offered them both chairs. It was clear to Maxine that Marco was already known to her.

  The fire was small and the room was cold. Maxine and Marco sat down and looked around. An old man with a bent back and a bad cough was leaning against the wall near the chimney and a much younger woman was sitting on the other side of the fire cradling a crying baby in her arms.

  The old man, who Maxine reckoned had to be Farmer Galdino, looked at the young woman and sighed. ‘Can’t you keep the child quiet?’ he muttered.

  ‘He’s hungry. You know that.’

  Marco explained the plan to them and as he did the young woman began to cry. He rose to his feet and went to kneel at her side.

  ‘They hanged him,’ she whispered. ‘They hanged my Lodo.’

  ‘I know.’

  She wiped her eyes with her skirt. ‘So yes, you can use the barn.’

  ‘And if you get hold of food, bring some to us,’ the old woman said. ‘That’s all we ask.’

  The old man nodded but didn’t speak.

  25.

  It was December the eighth, the feast day of the Immaculate Conception, and the villagers considered this national holiday the official start of the winter season. For the religious among them, and that was most, it was one of the most sacred celebrations in the spiritual calendar. For everyone else it symbolized the beginning of the lead-up to Christmas. It used to be a weekend when candles were lit and homes decorated with branches hauled in from the woods and flowers they’d dried at the end of summer. Nativity scenes would be prepared and in some towns and villages Christmas markets popped up too, but not this year. As dawn was breaking Sofia gazed out at a sky which looked as hard and grey as flint and heard the church bells ringing. That was something, at least, but how was it the Nazis could inflict their characteristics even on their beautiful Tuscan sky? She lay back on her bed and listened.

  A little later she was called to the main drawing room. With a heavy heart she saw Schmidt standing with his back to her, arms folded behind him, staring out of the window towards the tower. How tall he was, thin, stooped and tired-looking. She almost pitied him. He heard her footsteps and immediately spun round. She noticed the sombre look on his face but forced herself to smile.

  ‘Commandant, how nice to see you again so soon. But how we could do with some sunshine, don’t you agree? Will you sit? I can order coffee and some newly baked pastries.’ Just in time she stopped the words from running away with her.

  ‘That is kind but today I have no hunger, Contessa.’

  ‘Ah … Well, will you sit? The red velvet is the most comfortable or the wing-back chair.’

  He walked towards the velvet chair but stopped and stood beside her, so close she could detect the onions on his breath.

  ‘How may I help you today?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘That, my dear lady, will be up to Captain Kaufmann.’

  Her heart sank. ‘He’s here?’

  ‘He will be.’

  She wondered what he knew or, more to the point, what he thought she knew.

  ‘Your husband is still away?’

  ‘He is, but I expect him back soon.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s good. I don’t like to think of you alone here.’

  She remained mute and discovered she was clenching her hands.

  ‘You are a little nervous today?’

  She wanted to scream. Of course I’m nervous. Undeniably, I’m nervous. What do you expect?

  ‘There is nothing to be nervous about, Contessa. At least, I hope not.’

  ‘Tell me, Commandant, were you a doctor?’

  He looked taken aback.

  ‘I mean before. Were you a doctor?’

  ‘Whatever makes you think that?’

  ‘Your questions. You seem a compassionate man,’ she said and then quickly changed the subject. ‘Would you like to play? The piano, I mean.’

&
nbsp; ‘How kind,’ he said, ‘but here is Captain Kaufmann now. I will take a turn about the grounds instead. See if that sun has had a chance to come out.’ Then he smiled at her and left the room.

  ‘Contessa,’ Kaufmann said as he entered. ‘You are well?’

  She nodded and tried for a confident smile but knew when it came it was tremulous.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I have a few questions.’

  She forced another smile. ‘First, Captain Kaufmann, I am going to call for some pastries.’

  ‘You haven’t eaten breakfast yet?’

  ‘No. I came straight here.’

  He must have imagined she would ring a bell. Instead, she left him to it and once out of there leant against the hall door, taking shallow, shuddering breaths and fighting to calm herself. She pinched the skin at the bridge of her nose to try to release the tension. All she wanted was to flee, but instead she headed for the kitchen where she found Anna attempting to comfort a weeping Gabriella.

  ‘Has he gone, madam?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No. I came to request pastries. If I don’t eat soon, I think I’ll collapse, although my stomach is churning so badly, I don’t know if I can even eat.’

  ‘I will ask the maid to bring them.’

  ‘Have you found anything out?’ Sofia indicated Gabriella, whose face was buried in Anna’s skirts while her little dog, Beni, whined his distress.

  Anna shrugged.

  ‘Well, I’d better go back.’

  ‘Why is he here?’

  ‘So far, no idea. He’s very cagey.’

  She took her leave then, and before re-entering the main drawing room she drew back her shoulders. He turned to watch as she came in, his insufferable pale-blue eyes boring right through her.

  ‘Did I tell you how much you remind me of my aunt?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t remember.’

  He smiled coldly. ‘Ah, well. I’m sure I did. Do you dance, Contessa?’

  She frowned. ‘Before the war.’

  ‘My aunt dances. She is a very attractive woman, like yourself.’

  He walked across to her and touched her cheek. She swallowed, struggling not to flinch at his touch and the sickly, syrupy smell that clung to his breath. His next words confirmed her worst suspicions.

  ‘Ah, Contessa. I so wish you had told me the truth when I was last here.’

  Stricken, she couldn’t speak, and felt as if he’d stabbed a knife right into her heart. It was a sharp pain so real she feared he was about to slice her open and all her secrets would spill out. Against her will they’d fall, spreading across the floor for all the world to see. She was very afraid.

  ‘Do not be frightened,’ he said, clearly understanding. ‘But, you see, we do not relish being lied to.’

  ‘Lied to?’ She pressed her lips together and felt the walls of the Castello – the walls that had kept them safe for generations – closing in on her.

  ‘Am I making you feel uncomfortable?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, but the ground she stood on was caving in. Cracks were opening around her. Cracks through which she would fall at any moment. Cracks which would mean the end. Lorenzo. Lorenzo. I need you.

  ‘We have discovered the first name of one of the men we caught,’ he said, almost nonchalantly.

  She steeled herself. ‘And how is that to do with me?’

  ‘Does the name Aldo mean anything to you?’

  She had to think very quickly. If he already knew, a denial would only make things worse, and she suspected he did know, here to catch her out in another lie. She made a snap decision.

  ‘Contessa?’

  ‘Sorry. Yes. We do have an Aldo here.’

  ‘I think you’ll find you had an Aldo here,’ he said with a smile that bordered on a sneer. ‘Why didn’t you tell us when I asked you if anyone was missing?’

  ‘Is he missing?’

  ‘Not any more.’ Now he sniffed disdainfully, and the knife twisted inside her. Assaulted by the memory, she thought of his men snuffing out Aldo’s young life and felt the anger rising. A single word rang in her head over and over.

  Murderer.

  Murderer.

  Murderer.

  ‘We were given information. It allowed us to trace him to you. Or should I say to your cook.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Scum, dear lady. Why are you trying to protect the likes of him?’

  Too late to stop herself, she snapped back. ‘Well, if I was, it would have been too late, wouldn’t it?’

  He laughed as if he meant it. ‘Such spirit! I do like to see a bit of temperament in a woman. Makes it more fun.’

  She eyed him angrily and hoped she hadn’t given too much away.

  ‘Now, about the unfortunate young man. One of us will need to speak to his mother.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem.’

  ‘But you still have not told me why you didn’t recognize him.’

  ‘If you are talking about the two men you hanged at Buonconvento, they had both been so brutalized, I’m sure nobody could have known who they were.’

  He looked offended. ‘You think I am a brutal man?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. But it was a horrific sight. I glanced up and then immediately looked away.’

  ‘Certainly, it wasn’t pretty. But, you see, I was keeping watch and I’m sure I saw you staring.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘We do like to flush out the relatives if we can.’

  ‘If it really was our Aldo, he was only a boy.’

  He gave her an incredulous look. ‘A boy who would have had no qualms in killing one of us. You’d be surprised how young some of them are.’ He paused. ‘Now, I imagine you are wondering what we are going to do?’

  Her throat tightened.

  ‘Well, I will allow that for a female member of the nobility, a woman of your sensibility, to see two men hanging might have been such a shock that you did not recognize the partisan, Aldo.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Aldo couldn’t have been a partisan.’

  ‘And you know that how?’

  She couldn’t find the words and tried her best to swallow.

  ‘Contessa?’

  ‘I swear I didn’t know it was him. If I was staring, I certainly don’t recall it. All I remember was the awful shock of seeing two men strung up. The sight …’ She paused, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment. ‘The smell … I had no idea one might have been Aldo.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope you are telling me the truth.’ He paused. ‘In any case, I’m sure you will be able to find a way to reward us for our lenience.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘By allowing Commandant Schmidt to use your piano, I mean.’

  ‘And you?’ she asked.

  ‘Me? I like the look of your paintings, Contessa.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I will be coming back to interview your cook. We are always on the lookout for partisan sympathizers.’

  With that, he snapped his heels together and swiftly left the room. As soon as she heard Giulia, their maid, showing him out, followed by the sound of his vehicle leaving, she rushed to the downstairs lavatory and vomited until there was nothing left. Of course, he had not believed her story, so why was he playing this game with her?

  26.

  January 1944

  The church bells woke Sofia that icy January morning. She left Lorenzo sleeping and looked out from her bedroom window, catching her breath when she saw the magically transformed landscape. She loved the first snowfall of the season: the sky the colour of lavender, the air shimmering in the weak sunlight and every rooftop blanketed in a dusting of white. But as she gazed at the dark trees standing out in silhouette against the brightness of the newly carpeted fields, she feared for the partisans in the woods. They tried to watch over them, the women continuing to knit sweaters and thick scarves to guard against the cold, but it would never be enough, and the men needed to build tell-tale fires if they we
re to survive.

  And it wasn’t only the partisans who needed their help. Marco’s men had managed a raid on a German food camp and that was keeping them going. But towards the end of December dozens of homeless men, women and children had trailed along the roads and through the woods nearby in their attempt to reach the Allies in the south. Sofia had arranged for food to be given to some of them but there just wasn’t enough for all. Some were escaped British prisoners, who had either stormed their way out or been released by Italian soldiers, but with so many Germans in the area, their predicament was perilous, especially in the freezing conditions. Several of their older farmers offered temporary shelter but no one knew how or if they’d be able to pass through German lines. And then, on Christmas Day, radio news had reported the bombing of Pisa.

  Kaufmann had returned to interview Carla, but, after intimidating her and threatening her, concluded there was nothing more to be gained, at least for now. Sofia had been terrified they’d take five men from the Castello to be slaughtered in an act of revenge for the raid, but they seemed to have been satisfied with hanging Aldo and Lodo. Sofia’s relief was profound as any men left were either old or frail. Just before Kaufmann was leaving the Castello after speaking to Carla, he had demanded to see the painting of San Sebastiano again. He had stared silently for some minutes, rubbing his hands together, then he’d stiffened, drawn back his shoulders and left. Something about the proprietorial look in his eyes had been deeply unsettling and Sofia had considered hiding the picture and pretending it had been sold but, in the end, she’d opted not to.

  It was bitterly cold as she came downstairs. Maxine and Marco were standing in the small hallway leading to the back door, heads together and whispering furtively. Sofia felt a flash of annoyance, partly because she was still in her robe with only a woollen shawl wrapped round her shoulders, and partly because she had not given permission for Marco to stay the night. But, by the look of things, he had. She watched them for a moment until, obviously sensing her presence, they both turned to face her.