Peppino

by Seth Coleman

  The Aldobrandini family reached the height of its powers when Ippolito Aldobrandini became Pope Clement VII in 1592. The residence remained a papal getaway to this very day as the carriage of Pope Leo XIII, born Vincenzo Gioacchino Raffaele Luigi Pecci, the 256th pope of the Roman Catholic Church, pulled onto its broad terrace and then came to a stop in front of the massive oak doors.

  Peppino stood observing at the third floor window as the gold-leafed carriage came to a stop and the horses clopped the ground with their hooves and made a final snort announcing their arrival. Watching it ascend the long path from the gates reminded him of the day the monsignor had come up the hill to his home. He almost expected to see him get out, instead of the pope, but as the coachman opened the door for His Eminence, Peppino’s mouth fell open in shock.

  He saw the outstretched arm first, hanging in midair, waiting for assistance, and recognized the large purple ring instantly. He should have been prepared but instead he was taken completely off guard. His eyes were fixed on the baroness as she graciously exited the cab and turned and waited for His Eminence. Once he was beside her, they both turned and waited for a third person. It was a young woman, about his age, dressed formally and impeccably, with long chestnut hair draping her shoulders. He had never seen such a beautiful young woman. He watched as she gracefully moved toward the entrance below him. Her demeanor appeared refined and yet natural while her conversation seemed to flow comfortably with both of her chaperones. Her hair bobbed a bit, and he couldn’t help thinking that she was more feminine than the girls he’d known in Calabria.

  Peppino was gazing at her as she disappeared through the doorway below, not noticing until that moment that the baroness had seen him at the window. Peppino thought he saw a slight smile, but it disappeared as she saw his expression when he returned her stare.

  Peppino stayed in his room, trying to fathom the motives of such a trio, until one of the servants knocked on his door informing him that his presence was requested in the parlor.

  “Please inform them I will be down momentarily,” he said. Instead of heading toward the door, Peppino crossed the room to comb his hair in the mirror. He had changed a lot in the past four years, but until this moment he had not understood it himself. It was not just his character that had been shaped and sharpened at the monastery. The man staring back at him was handsome and dressed in goodly apparel. As he studied his face, he noticed, or perhaps perceived, a confidence—a newborn sense of strength and determination. At this moment he knew for the first time in his life who he was. As a child he had sought these qualities, but instead he had simply grown into them. He could see it in the reflection. He would handle this well, and it would be the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He was resolved to bear the destiny that Abramo and Nicola had outlined to him. If it was society that he needed to influence, it was society he would become. He knew how to act. He had grown up with the baroness and watched her with disdain, but he would mimic her social behavior and even give it his own flare.

  At that moment he understood what it meant to be “wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove.” It was as a piece of mosaic tile, and it fit perfectly together with “being close to one’s friends and closer to one’s enemies.”

  Peppino nodded at his own image, as if to an ally. I can do this.

  **********************

  “Ippolita,” Pope Leo said quietly, “I will take Elisabetta for a walk in the gardens to give you time with your son.” Before he exited, he stopped at the high-backed chair facing the window that overlooked the terrace and down the hill all the way to the dome of Saint Peter’s in the Vatican. “Stunning view; this is a wonderful place for good things to happen.” He patted the back of the chair and repeated as he walked to the door, “Stunning view indeed.”

  Uncharacteristically nervous, the baroness smiled weakly at her childhood friend. “Thank you, Luigi.”

  A few minutes later, she watched as they walked out the rear of the villa and rounded the fountain on the path toward the upper gardens. But her thoughts were prisoner to the stare she had shared with her son. He had had such a warm look on his face, and at first she thought it was intended for her until she saw his eyes refocus and turn cold. She could still feel the bitterness. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, then stretched the wrinkles out of her dress while drawing her hands across her lap. When the knock came at the door, she stifled her anxiety.

  “Come in.” She watched as the door swung open and a handsome young man with a warm smile entered the room.

  “Hello, Mother. It is a nice surprise to see you.”

  Stunned, the baroness smiled slightly, thrown completely off guard. “Hello, Peppino, you are looking well. Come and sit with me so we can catch up.”

  “Catch up? Yes, we do have much to talk about.” He sat in the chair directly facing her. “First, how is the family, Vincenzo, Concettina, the girls, Antonia, your sister? I want to hear about them all.”

  “They are all fine and send their warm regards. They all wanted to come to see you so badly, especially Concettina. She would have climbed into my valise if she could have fit. She has grown quite a bit since you last saw her. I told them that I hoped to return with you, and they were all very excited.”

  “Really? I thought I was never allowed to return to Brancaleone.”

  “I made some arrangements, and I think it will be fine.”

  “Arrangements?”

  “The constable who was hurt in the incident lived and was well enough to return to work last year. I assisted his whole family during his recovery, and they were all quite appreciative. I think they are all willing to put the whole affair behind them.”

  “I see.” He paused for a few seconds, considering whether to be angry or grateful and quelling an outburst that was millimeters from surfacing. “And how is your friend the monsignor?”

  “Peppino, he is not my friend and never has been,” she said, very much wanting to divert the anger she could sense in his voice.

  “You could have fooled me. I thought the two of you were thick as thieves,” he said, considering his words and intending them to be caustic.

  The baroness reached over and placed her hand on her son’s.

  For the first time in his life, he saw pleading in her eyes and surprised himself with his own reaction. “I am sorry, but you know how much I hate that man, and you have shared meals with him and support his church.”

  “My son, we live in Calabria. It is necessary to be associated with one’s enemies there. I have been able to maintain a position in the region, not because I am a baroness but because I have been very careful. Personally, I think the monsignor an imbecile, but he is well connected and influential. He can be a very dangerous enemy, as you have seen. Peppino, there have been many things I have done to protect our family, and having an appearance of friendship with him is one of them.”

  “Be close to your friends and closer to your enemies,” he said. “A friend once told me that.”

  “Yes, that is what I have learned to do. Your friend sounds very wise. I would like to meet him someday.”

  Peppino smiled. “So tell me, Mother, why am I here, and why would the pope want to see me? I hope he doesn’t think I wish to become a monk or priest or something.”

  The baroness actually laughed good-naturedly at the thought. “No, I assure you it is nothing like that. Before the pope was Pope Leo XIII, he was Luigi Pecci. He was raised right here in the hills of Rome, but his family vacationed in Florence for the summers. Their villa shared the same lake as the Medici estate, and we have been friends most of our lives. The truth is that we actually dated for a while when we were in our teens. Does that surprise you?”

  “Actually no. I recently had a conversation with the abbot at the monastery, and he told me some of the things he did as a young man.”

  “You say that rather affectionately. Were you good friends with him?”

  “No, I wouldn’t exactly say that, but he would ca
ll me to his office to chat from time to time.”

  The baroness raised her eyebrows a bit. “My, you really have changed.”

  Peppino paused for a moment to reflect before continuing. “This may surprise you, but I am very glad for the years I spent there. I made some good friends and found the monks to be very sincere in their beliefs. I thought that all men of the cloth were like the monsignor and the bishop, but that is not true at all. Some are good and some are not.”

  “That is the way in life, my son.”

  “Yes it is, Mother.”

  The baroness cleared her throat. “Peppino, that is the third time you have called me Mother. Don’t misunderstand, I am happy to hear it, but it is somewhat of a surprise to hear it coming from you. I guess I am trying to say…” She hesitated, trying to think of the right words. “Thank you.”

  Peppino could see the slightest hint of a tear in her eyes. “It was the abbot. He told me that being adopted is really quite an honor. I never thought of it that way.” Things had been going so well so far, but Peppino couldn’t help himself. “If I do go home, I will want to see Nicola.” He readjusted himself in his chair, waiting for the inevitable. The smile on his face did not reflect the steel in his own eyes.

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea to—”

  Peppino interrupted her angrily. “You are wasting your time if you think I would return and not see my friend—”

  “Peppino. Let me—”

  “I knew it would come to this. You are controlling and uncompromising and unable to see anything from anyone’s perspective but your own.”

  “Peppino…Stop, let me finish my sentence.”

  Peppino took in a breath and exhaled it slowly.

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to meet him in Brancaleone. When you do meet him, perhaps it would be best if it was outside of Calabria. He has only been to the villa twice since you left.”

  “He has been to the villa?” Peppino was speechless.

  When he had entered the drawing room, he did not notice the high-backed chair in front of the window that faced north toward the center of Rome. His attention was drawn to it as he heard a creaking sound and realized someone had been listening to their conversation. He looked at the baroness and then back toward the chair. Has the pope been sitting there and listening to our whole conversation? Peppino quickly did an inventory of the words he’d said that might be offensive to the pope. For some reason fear gripped him, as he knew he would be facing the most powerful man in the world, the man whose notes he’d delivered on a satin pillow with gold tassels. The man stood facing the window for a moment. It was not what he expected the pope to look like. It was confusing; this man could not be the pope. He was thin and not dressed in robes. Slowly he turned.

  “You made me promise to come for you when it was time to leave the monastery. A promise is a promise,” the man said.

  Peppino stood, overwhelmed with sudden wonder. “Nicola?” He stood, turning to see a smile on the face of the baroness and then Nicola approaching with his hand outstretched.

  “It’s good to see you again. From the sound of things, the monastery has tamed you a bit without touching that fiery passion of yours.”

  “How are the two of you in the same room…with the pope here? Did you know he was here?” He asked the question to the baroness.

  “Yes, of course. I introduced him to the pope, and it is not the first time Nicola has been here to meet with him.”

  Peppino almost fell rather than sat back into his chair. “My friend Silouan believes in miracles, but I never have.”

  Nicola pulled the high-backed chair around and took a seat. “A lot has happened in the last four years. It is going to take you some time to understand it all, so for now just relax and enjoy yourself while you are here. Get to know your mother. I have come to see her as an extraordinary woman, and you should too, and Elisabetta. I do not know her well, but she seems like a nice young woman, and she certainly is easy on the eyes. I hope the two of you will become friends.”

  “How is Emilio?”

  Nicola smiled a broad grin. “He is fine. He wanted to be here today, but I needed him elsewhere. You will see him in good time. He sends his regards and a message. He wanted to know how you enjoyed wearing a dress for the past four years.”

  Peppino smiled. “I will get him for that one…and he knows it.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, I guess miracles can happen.” He reached in his pocket and ran his finger over the surface of the smooth stone Silouan had given to him.

  “It is only the beginning, my friend. I will be here for supper this evening and am leaving in the morning, early. You will be dining with the pope later, and I want you to know some things about him before you meet. He is a good man. He does not believe completely as we do, nor we like him, but in life you must choose your allegiances with people where there is a possibility and openness for discussion. I want you to adopt that attitude while you are with him. Don’t expect him to agree with all of your thinking. Dismiss what you disagree on, and center on the areas where you do. Change takes place slowly and on both sides, Peppino. I can tell you that he is in favor of educating the poor and has fought the Mafia with success.”

  “Really?”

  “And many injustices,” interjected the baroness. “In some ways he is quite like you. I recall that he was appointed as legal administrator for the province of Benevento. He found a bakery that was known to overcharge the public by selling below the prescribed pound weight. He walked in and had all the bread weighed and confiscated all the loaves that were below the legal limit and gave them to the poor.”

  “Who does that sound like, my friend?” chuckled Nicola. “But he did it by the weight of the law. He used his wits and common sense and the law to divide right and wrong, not unrestrained anger. Benevento is the smallest of the provinces but had a very strong Mafia structure, much like Calabria. The economy was poor and there was widespread banditry, and it existed because the Mafia leaders were allied with the aristocratic families. Do you know what he did?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “That’s a start,” Nicola teased, giving a quick look toward the baroness, who was taking it all in.

  “This one man, who started out life as an average person from a well-to-do family like yours, arrested the most powerful aristocrat in Benevento while his troops captured others. And then our pope, Leo XIII, the one whom you will soon meet, either had them killed or imprisoned. With the public order restored, he was able to facilitate the restoration of the economy, an honest tax system with money set aside for education.”

  “Has he done that in Calabria? Has he had the monsignor and the bishop killed?”

  The baroness placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her forehead in her hand.

  “No, he has not, not yet,” Nicola continued. “Calabria is a much larger province with different social and economic dynamics. Benevento is bordered by other provinces and close to Naples and Rome. Calabria is divided by two mountain chains and bordered by two seas on both sides. It will not be easy to restore order there. It may take a lifetime, Peppino. Your lifetime, if you choose. The pope studied diplomacy in college, and there is much you can learn from him. So when you chat with him, I hope it is for different reasons than when you chatted with the abbot.”

  Peppino smiled and glanced toward the baroness, who did not seem to discern the barb.

  “Peppino, I have had a chance to get to know Nicola, and our aims for you are the same. Like it or not, you were born an aristocrat. But that means that if you learn diplomacy and learn how to use it wisely, you can help change the direction of Calabria and help its people. God knows it will not be easy, but I think your friend here is helping you in the right direction.”

  Nicola continued the thought. “Money is power, Peppino, and you need to become a smart businessman as well. But with all the lands your family owns, you can help to finance good things, as your mother
has quietly been doing.”

  “She has been helping to finance you?’

  “Yes, she has, over and above the money that I used to send to the monastery for your studies.”

  “You must keep this secret, Peppino,” the baroness interjected nervously. “No one must find out about it, or our family will be in trouble.”

  “I understand,” Peppino said seriously.

  “Ah, he is returning with Elisabetta,” the baroness said, glancing out the window. “I think we best begin to get ready for dinner, and I think I will take a rest first. I will leave you to talk a while, but I suggest it not be long. It is not a good idea to keep the pope waiting.” She stood and walked across the room and turned back, looking directly at Peppino. “Especially if one is a diplomat.” She said the words with a lovingly proud look and then turned and left the room.

  “Give her a chance,” Nicola said. “Do not expect her to be changed completely. She is not. But there is one thing I can say with certainty.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You may be adopted, but she loves you as her own son.”

  “Hmm” was all Peppino could say.

  Notes

  * Accepted term indicating the illegitimate child of a pope.

  Chapter 14

  The baroness, Nicola, and Peppino were the first to be seated in the dining room. The head of the table was saved for the pope, and the seat to the right for his grandniece Elisabetta, both of whom they could hear coming down the steps. Peppino had been well versed in the formal etiquette of meeting the pope. The boys at the monastery were trained incessantly just in case the time would come when one of them should actually meet him. One time when it was warm and the window near his stool was wide open, Peppino had slipped out undetected to avoid those boring and repetitious instructions, but never Silouan. Of all the ones to meet the pope, thought Peppino.

  When he had returned to his room earlier, one of the servants had laid out a formal dressing suit for him, provided by the baroness he was sure. But he was thankful, as he knew that when meeting the pope all men must be dressed in their finest apparel. More importantly, he thought, it would not be too bad to be dressed in my best when I meet Elisabetta. An impish smile came across his face as he thought, Eat your heart out, Silouan. The thought left him immediately as it occurred to him. It should be you who is here.