At 7 p.m. the sun moved down in the western sky, warming the front of the castle. Sarah enjoyed the view from the large courtyard by the front entrance.
Pietro also stepped out to see the sunset and immediately walked over to her.
“Oh, Sarah, I wonder if you have any idea what’s going on tonight? Your father was with me today in Siena touring the square where the Palio goes on in the summer as well as seeing the Gregory VII murals in the Cathedral library. Thus he may not have told you? We invited some of our neighbors to come for a feast tonight to meet you and your father, just a few.”
“How delightful, Pietro! And who are your neighbors?”
“Ah, it is lucky I walked out right now or you’d never understand where they come from. Look out to the distance on the right and then scan to the left, but don’t look too much at the sun. Do you see the little rolling hills out there with stone buildings and towers on the top? Do you see the rows of cedar and old walls winding up the hills to the castles and villas, just as our driveway rises here?
“Yes, I have been looking out at this view as much as possible since I arrived. I’ve wondered if they are small villages and if I could go see them.”
“Those buildings are the castles and villas of my neighbors, and some of them will come tonight. These are the real old Tuscan families like mine, and you will love meeting them. Dress as you did last night, and you will be perfect. They can’t wait to meet you and your father. Of course, they never miss my roast boar served with our private reserve wine.”
At 8 p.m. the guests started arriving. Each minute or so another car came up the hill, and the drivers unloaded the guests in front of the castle where Pietro and Sarah had been standing. Then the drivers parked behind and went into the kitchen for supper. As the guests came in, Sarah and William stood with Pietro, Matilda, and Armando inside the great hall to greet them. Sarah found the ladies, in their long dresses and heirloom jewels, to be like relics emerging from the past. I never imagined I would witness a scene like this—ancient nobility arriving.
The guests were very curious about Sarah, addressing her in slow lilting Italian that she barely understood. They were charmed by her attempts to speak their language and her natural beauty. Once all the guests had arrived and were formally introduced, off they went to the library for cocktails wondering whether Armando was involved with her. They’d guarded their daughters against him years ago because of his reputation as a notorious rake. Maybe, they mused, he was past that now that he was forty. Their daughters were all safely married now, and they wondered if he was finally going to settle down.
Eventually the dinner bell rang and they flowed into the dining room in a pack, the guests moving through the house with the familiarity bred of long acquaintance. The large room was filled with a long table covered in a white tablecloth. One end was partially covered with the feast and the other was set for guests. On guard was the cook, slicing into a twenty-pound roasted boar. As Armando slyly observed, Sarah winced when she saw the grinning face of the boar with a crimson apple crammed in its mouth and a red bow tie around its neck. The space in front of the wild pig was piled with platters of vegetables, potatoes, salads, and sauces. Everyone lined up with their plates to enjoy the feast, and then some sat down at the other end of the long table and others went to round tables in the entry hall.
William was enjoying the celebration immensely. When Armando took an empty seat next to him, he decided to give him another chance. They toasted each other with red wine.
Armando said, “I must say, William, your daughter certainly knows art. She came up to my studio this morning, and we talked about my work for hours. There are few people who have been able to analyze the deeper levels of my paintings; most just see the surface realism. It was a joy to share with her. Her intelligence is impressive, just delightful.”
Despite his reconciliatory feelings, William found the sound of Armando’s voice grating. There is something slimy about this guy, something disturbing about him. He covers it up with his perfect manners and elegant clothes. This guy is a snake.
“Her intelligence and her seriousness have been a challenge and a source of great enjoyment to her mother and me,” William replied. “Things have worked out quite well because she pursues her studies diligently. We miss her, being so far away in Rome, but she’ll be right back as soon as she finishes this phase of her research.”
“Ah, well, she and I never got around to talking about her work, come to think of it.”
William tuned in more deeply to Armando’s voice. As Armando continued, “She has agreed to have dinner with me in Rome, and I hope you won’t mind if I see her. I’m so happy I came out this weekend. Otherwise, I might never have met her,” William heard instead a disembodied voice whining in a barely audible high pitch, “I want your daughter, and when I want something, I get it.”
William looked over his left shoulder at Armando, pulling his lips tight and showing his teeth. “She’s studying patristics, the early Church Fathers, and the sources in Rome are excellent. She is working on her Ph.D., and she will have to write a very challenging thesis. I do not think she is in Rome to date.” He grinned at Armando like a mean Cheshire cat while sticking his left elbow on the table by Armando’s arm and shoving it, seemingly inadvertently. Then he raised his glass with his other hand to indicate he wanted more wine.
Armando turned away from the fat flushed elbow and sank his sharp knife into the pink, buttery boar flesh. He cut a piece and skewered it on his fork, raising it slowly to his lips. William’s elbow came off the table again when he cut into the tender boar flesh. When the time to exchange places for dessert came, both were relieved to part.
Armando made the chatting rounds with each of the guests. Then he stole Sarah away from a few of the ladies and led her to a small table with two chairs back in the library. They shared a few more thoughts while sitting together in the low, flickering firelight amid books and family genealogies. He didn’t ask her about her studies, since he’d never heard of patristics.
For Sarah, the evening was perfect. The profound quiet in the library calmed her soul, and the glowing fire soothed her mind. I can still feel his kiss. I feel like a princess in this ancient home with Armando.
9
Ossuaries and Etruscan Tombs
As they drove out through the stone archway by the tower and descended the winding road the next morning, William and Sarah left the magical world behind. Sarah nestled down in her seat, hoping to tune back into the golden world. No such luck: William was ready to speak.
He fixed his gaze on his lovely daughter. “Well, Sarah, tell me exactly what you think about Armando, who seems to be very taken with you. Pietro and Matilda certainly set him up for his big chance, don’t you think?” Sometimes I wonder just how sophisticated she is. Does she know what goes on? Is she attracted to glamour? To aristocrats?
“He’s a fine painter,” she said, ignoring his implications. “He paints these landscapes that at first look realistic until you look closer and see that there’s another world hidden in them. First you sense it, next it grabs you emotionally, and then the landscapes take on an otherworldly cast. I found myself getting lost in his work, and apparently he is very successful.” I wonder if Daddy noticed that I’m attracted to Armando?
“Yes, well, Pietro and Matilda are very proud of him and they should be. But, isn’t it odd that he’s not married yet at age forty? To tell you the truth, I think he’s a playboy, an Italian aristocrat who chases beautiful women like you!” There, I said it. If she does like him, will this get her to wake up? Or will I alienate her and push her toward him?
“Hmmm, interesting. I can’t say I was really checking him out in that way. He is very handsome, beautifully mannered, and his landscapes are in his blood. Whether he is a playboy or not isn’t my concern. I’m too busy with my studies. He asked me to join him for dinner in Rome and I accepted. It might be fun! After all, he is the son of your dear old friend.” Did he
r father sense her misgivings?
“Sweetheart, since I won’t be seeing you for quite a while, may I offer you some fatherly advice? Don’t say yes unless you are sure. You may be quite surprised by what I have to say.” I hope she goes for it; this guy is dangerous.
Sarah paused. The way it worked in the Adamson family was if you agreed to listen to advice, then you were honor-bound to consider following it. That had been just fine until she was seven years old. After that, she had avoided his control by not asking for his opinions. Now at twenty-five she still was reluctant to ask his advice, but she felt she needed it now.
They were passing through a lovely small village. Its location right by the road meant it was ancient. They were returning to Rome via the narrow old Roman high road that went through Etruscan cemeteries and ancient villages. I’ve always wanted to see an Etruscan necropolis . . .
“Daddy, we will be passing by Cerveteri. Can we stop there for a little while?”
William tapped on the glass and the driver opened the window for new instructions. This was a fair trade, so Sarah replied, “Sure, Daddy, why not offer me your advice. It has always helped me so far.”
William sank his solid body down into the plush leather seat, squared his shoulders, and went for it. “In my grandmother’s day, when ladies were ladies and men were real men, you’d have a chaperone. When I was growing up, all that ended, and let me tell you, we guys thought that was great. Now that I’m older and have two beautiful daughters, I wish both you and your sister Susan had chaperones. Before you giggle and ignore me, Sarah, I have something very important to say about the loose times we live in.” He paused.
“You’ve admitted to me lately that you wonder whether some kind of evil force has been unleashed in the world. Well, I have my own ideas about that. Evil has always been in the world, but it affects less those who guard against it. That was the purpose of chaperones for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Lusty men always prey on beautiful and innocent young women. It’s in the Bible, for God’s sake, like the story of the gods who came down, took the women, and created the giants! I hope you will not go out with Armando or Simon alone. Since I know you probably will, I have one little request: as your father, I ask you to never go to their home or apartment alone, never! Hey, I’m a guy and I know what I’m talking about. That’s asking the demons to come out.”
Automatically Sarah responded, “But, Daddy, you already know I would never do that. I wouldn’t consider going to a man’s place, ever.” As soon as she said the words, the old rule recorded by her cells sank down into her brain, yet at the same time she realized she felt ambivalent about obeying him. My father’s rules have always protected me, but now I’m older. Following his dictums narrows me too much. It’s time to widen my experiences, time to explore myself. This doesn’t feel exactly right to me. Despite her reluctance, she couldn’t resist him. He had accessed her reptilian brain, the mind-controlled robotic part of her—It is Easter and I have to wear white gloves and a hat to Mass, to Mass! She felt diminished, riding along for a few more hours while William snoozed. As much as she loved him, she realized she was happy he was going back to Boston.
He woke as the driver pulled into the parking lot at Cerveteri. Sarah was looking eagerly out the window. Nobody is around. How lucky!
They found a local guide and stepped down into a round underground tomb, a perfect miniature house for the dead. It was cool and shaded, and the walls were decorated with graceful paintings of nymphs, satyrs, sphinxes, and mythological chimeras. The ancient and pristine tomb made her forget all about her father’s remarks about men preying on women. Then she spotted a strange relief on the wall that made her feel dizzy. What was that flash, that image? Her eyes fixed on a drawing above the stairs—a young dancing boy bent over the back end of a large red bull. A muscular older man with a huge black phallus was penetrating the boy from behind. The whites of the man’s eyes leered through the centuries while he broke the dancer in two. Synchronicity, synchronicity, the only way I ever figure anything out. Why do I see this here now? The other reliefs waved and stretched into a blur while the guide droned on. That night, she dreamed of an old priest rushing down a hallway after slamming a door to silence the moans of a boy in pain.
Finally William was gone, and Sarah had a delightful day. That evening, as cool air penetrated the garden, the trickling water from the fountain soothed her senses. Being alone was such a relief that it almost worried her. Do I spend too much time by myself? As she finished a bowl of pasta and a salad, the phone rang and she hoped it was Simon.
“I miss you!” he said sweetly into the phone, and she told him she missed him too. Funny, whenever I hear from him or see him, I feel very special. She happily agreed to meet him at La Fontana for wine and dessert. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been doing while I was away!” she told him. “It’s still light, so I can walk there. See you in twenty minutes.”
She rushed out the door; within a few blocks she was disgusted when an older Italian man pinched her ass. She waited at a small table for Simon because she wanted to observe him walking into the room. As he came toward her, she felt balanced and peaceful. He is so damned good-looking. He’s different from Armando, who is a determined man always seeking a target. Simon is contained within; he’s not always aiming at some object.
Simon quickened his pace as he spotted her. “It is so great to see you! It seems like weeks since we had dinner with your father at Alfredo’s, even though it was only last Wednesday. I really liked him, and I think he liked me despite his concerns about my article.”
Simon continued, the words pouring out in his excitement, “A million things are going on in Rome! At the Vatican this weekend there was a flap over Jerusalem ossuaries, the bone boxes. An ossuary with an inscription that reads ‘James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus’ came on the antiquities market in 2002. Israeli officials declared it a forgery and went after the man who found it. The case against the finder was finally thrown out of the Israeli courts a few days ago, and a great theological controversy has erupted, which favors opinions expressed in Biblical Archaeology Review that this ossuary is the earliest link to Jesus.”
“Do you mean the magazine published by the Biblical Archaeology Society?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Simon replied. “You and I could talk about this ossuary all night—it directly challenges the Catholic fairy tale of Mary’s perpetual virginity. If it is authenticated, it exposes more of the lies about the family of Jesus. Piece by piece, the whole story fabricated by the Church sixteen hundred years ago is falling to pieces. I will have to go to Jerusalem for some fact finding.”
Hearing Simon talk about these topics that so interested her reminded Sarah why she loved being with him. She hadn’t thought about it until now, but she and Armando hadn’t discussed her work at all. “I can’t wait to read all about this! We had no news at the castle near Siena where I was with my father. I wish you could have been with me to see the villa, a truly authentic Tuscan castle that was built and added on to over a thousand years. It has such a special feeling because it has remained in the same family. My father really had a good time with his old friend. I was free to explore, so I spent some time meditating in an ancient chapel.” She was so excited by seeing him that her hand slipped onto his arm. Simon reached for her hand to press it, and Sarah flashed back to the painter’s studio and to the guy who’d just pinched her. She ripped her hand away.
Simon looked at her oddly, and she realized she had put her hand on his arm in the first place. She heard his voice. “Sarah, are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
She recovered herself, but she was flushed and hot. “Oh, I’m sorry. Suddenly I felt funny.” She put her hand gently back on his arm and said, “I forgot where I was for a moment because I was so excited to tell you about the castle. Then I found myself holding your arm.” Like a princess in a tower, like a maid with cascading locks down to the ground, I touched a man, but Daddy
said not to touch a man . . .
Simon watched her, his reporter’s eye scrutinizing the deeper set of tense muscles altering her face. She was a different person—still beautiful, still Sarah, yet a phantasm had passed through her mind. He blurted out, “Don’t you think you’re going a little bit too far with this sex-avoidance thing? I mean, I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want, never would with any woman. So why are you so jumpy?”
Now what can I say? I’m cornered. She muttered in a low voice, “You have a weirdo on your hands. When my father and I were driving back to Rome, he actually told me he wishes I had a chaperone! I was introduced to the Pierleonis’ oldest son, Armando, a painter who has a studio in the castle tower. My dad thinks he is a playboy who will go after me. Isn’t that just too much?”
Simon had heard of the old and powerful Pierleoni family. He didn’t like the image forming in his mind. A Pierleoni playboy painter in the perfect castle tower and the beautiful woman . . . As usual, Simon blurted out his thoughts without thinking, “Well, from what I saw of your father, he may be right. Your father is a very smart man, Sarah. Also, you know what? I’m not sure you realize how captivating and alluring you are, and sometimes you are a flirt! A lot of men would lose control just by getting close to you; I easily could myself. But we agreed to be just friends, which I will honor. Would this painter guy agree to just be your friend? I doubt it.”
Revelations of the Ruby Crystal Page 9