Alessandro remained seated at the table sipping his wine and lighting a cigarette. He was going to wait a bit before leaving; he couldn’t arouse suspicions so he decided to behave like every evening. He imagined that the two Militia men were accommodated in the last two corridor rooms, the rooms left free by his colleagues who had to leave to go back to Rome for some obscure reasons.
After a while, he went upstairs to his room. Some moments later the new clients followed him, he heard them wishing each other good night and closing their respective bedroom doors. Two minutes had not passed before someone was knocking at the window-door of the balcony he shared with Letizia’s room. She was there wearing coat, scarf and gloves, ready to go to the appointment at the big oak. He let her in.
«The two from the Militia are staying in the rooms at the end of the corridor, the ones without the inside bathroom. We have to pay attention. Have they already been to the bathroom?» asked Letizia.
«No, not yet.»
«I don’t like them. Especially the podgy one with the combed over hair. He reminds me of a villain I met during my studies at university.»
«What? You know him?»
«No but… he looks so much alike that guy.»
«Who?»
«A professor. A modern history of art professor» she tried to focus for a long moment and then said «no, it can’t be him.»
«In any case, don’t worry. We won’t meet them. We’ll get out through the window.»
«Are you crazy?»
«Don’t worry, I said. The drain pipes are just near the balcony and around the junctions there is a robust support for feet and hands. I’ll help you, it is only a floor.»
«It’s ages since I did anything crazy like that. But you are right. We can’t risk being discovered. What time is it?»
«A quarter past eleven.»
«We need half an hour to get to the big oak. We have to be out of here before eleven thirty.»
They remained silent for a few minutes until they heard a door opening: someone was going to the bathroom. It was the right time. They would have had to pay attention to only one of them, hoping that the one still in his bedroom was the one with the windows at the other side. They went on the balcony. No window was lightened.
Letizia was wearing a quite full skirt and decided to go down first.
«Are you sure?» asked her the Great.
«Yep. I was a tomboy when I was a teenager. It is not the first time I have escaped via a balcony.»
Big oak, 11.50 p.m.
Letizia and Alessandro walked away from the village through the fields and arrived at the big oak a few minutes before midnight. The Little was already there waiting for them hidden in between the bushes. It was very cold and he was shivering; his light blue eyes were now of the colour of lead.
«Are you sure nobody followed you?»
«I think so. But what happened? Do they know?» asked the Great.
Letizia didn’t understand what they were talking about. Followed by whom? And why? And moreover, know what?
«Does she know?» asked the Little.
«No. I didn’t say a word. I think you should do it.»
«To know what?» asked Letizia impatient.
«Letizia, professor Argentini is a friend of my family for many years now and he sent me here under a false name to hide me, but now I think I’m not safe anymore and I don’t want to risk also your lives. My real name is David Kornblum. My mother is Italian, my father German and we are Jews. My father, Isaac, is an intellectual who was already heavily menaced because of his ideas and now he mainly takes care of translation and linguistics. I am disliked because of some political pamphlets that I wrote and published during my university years. They suspect I am a conspirator and they are looking for me.»
Letizia eyes filled with tears.
«Please don’t cry. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to me. We’ll find a solution» the Little told her softly.
«For sure» agreed the Great.
After a few moment of silence the Great pulled out his notebook and wrote something in it. He tore the page off and gave it to the Little. Letizia was observing them holding her breath every little noise she heard.
It all started with that idiot Manifesto of the Race and now with the racial laws promulgation also in Italy, it was clear how dangerous the situation was for Jews.
«This is the address of a very good friend of mine who lives in Frosinone. He is a priest. We were in school together. Tell him that I sent you. He’ll know how to help you. Do you have money?»
«Some.»
«Here take these too» said the Great handing him an envelope.
«Thanks.»
«You must leave immediately. It is too dangerous to stay. I’ll send you your things somehow. We’ll say that you had to leave right away because… because your father is very ill.»
They exchanged a long embrace. Letizia and Alessandro went back to the hotel each absorbed in his own thoughts. They feared they would never see the Little again.
1st December 1938
Poggio Catino, hotel “Da Rosa”, 6.30 a.m.
When she heard Mrs. Rosa going downstairs, she knew it was six thirty. Every morning the owner of the hotel got up at the same time to prepare breakfast for her guests. Letizia would have loved to have a cup of coffee. Real coffee because the only product on which Rosa wasn’t saving was coffee: she hated the usual coffee substitute. The point was that it wouldn’t have been wise to go down so early. Letizia never descended before eight and, especially today, she could not afford to arouse curiosity or worst, suspicion.
After returning from her midnight meeting at the big oak she hadn’t been able to sleep. She remembered perfectly what they did to her father and was scared for the Little whilst the face of Morelli kept appearing in her mind. Why were they so interested in the restoration of a little provincial palazzo? What were they hunting for? And why all the soldiers?
She got up from her bed trying not to cause too much noise and went to the wardrobe where she had hidden the papers.
No sound was to be heard out in the corridor.
She needed another place to hide them. It was too risky in the wardrobe in case they searched her room. A shiver ran down her spine and, even though she was bare footed on the floor, it wasn’t the coldness. She went back to bed, and started reading.
Amongst my belongings Elsa found these papers, the feather and the ink. I trusted her and she managed to make me get it. She was always a devoted servant. I hope they will not extinguish her light.
My fate is done.
They finished the wall.
Geppo never changed his mind. He was never merciful and I cannot think of any reason why now compassion should touch his soul.
Nevertheless I do not repent.
My only wish is now to live long enough to write what I must. God bless my mother who wanted me to learn the art of painting the words.
I cannot say who will ever read these papers; maybe a thousand years must pass.
No, it took just nearly five hundred, considered Letizia lifting her eyes for a moment.
But these memories are the only hint.
Future reader, how are my bones? White and well cleaned? Did the worms that grew on my corpse do a good job? When you find me, I beg you, don’t bury me immediately. Let my bones enjoy the wind’s caresses; let the sun warm them and the tears of the rain kiss them one more time. No, these are not the insanities of a lunatic but the last wish of a woman sentenced to death.
I don’t have candles and soon the light will be very little. Great difficulties will hinder my writing but I must continue in order to deliver the secret. The unusual round hole on the external wall of this prison was prepared only out of cruelty so that I could count the days. But if they think they added torture they are mistaken. From that hole a little light enters and I will have light enough to write. They left me bread and water so that my death will come slowly. But my poison is more endurable than
theirs. They will never know.
You are my only hope, future reader.
And, if you read these papers carefully, you’ll find in it the way to solve the rest.
Someone slammed the bathroom door near the stairs. The watch showed it was a quarter past seven; no other noise disturbed the hotel silence. Letizia thought she might have to share those papers with professor Argentini but she decided not to. Not yet, at least.
I very well remember the day my mother told me: «You were born noble but a bastard. Despite that, you can make a fortune out of it. You have more grace than any one I know and if you wish to be free to think and do what you like, then you have to bow in front of masculine desire. All powerful men will let have you books and art, jewels and money that you can use as you wish but you will never be considered equal. The price is high. Once your beauty is gone, don’t expect anything from them. Remember: in the life of a courtesan the greatest ruin will be love. Consider all the difficulties of it and then decide freely how you want to proceed.»
It was hard to decide but then I followed that way.
I remember perfectly when my mother taught me how to touch a man.
I was fourteen years old.
Letizia looked at the alarm clock on the little night table: it was a quarter to eight. The papers in her hands were difficult to decipher but so intriguing that she had lost the sense of time.
Someone knocked.
She hid the papers under the covers and went to the door.
«Who is it?» she asked.
«It’s me, Alessandro. Going down for breakfast. I’ll wait for you downstairs. We need to talk.»
«Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.»
This time, she decided to put the papers in the cloth-bag that her grandma made for her to carry jewels and money when she was travelling and she tied it around her waist.
«Very good, grandma. I used it only once because it is too big but now it is absolutely perfect» she said to herself.
With a tight petticoat she tried to make the bag as flat as possible and over it she wore the largest skirt she had. It was a little bit old fashioned but perfect to work at palazzo Biraghi. A creamy shirt and a nice pullover completed her outfit. Her wavy hairstyle enhanced her perfect oval face softening the curve of the slightly aquiline nose. She smiled and the mirror smiled in return.
It was already past eight and Mrs. Rosa’s black coffee was waiting for her. The nearer she was to the dining room the more she smelled the delicious aroma of apple cake. It was her favourite cake and Rosa was always preparing it whenever she thought she needed some strength. That morning Letizia really needed it. She was happy about the cake especially because from the very first moment, she had the feeling that that strong curt woman had welcomed her in the hotel not as a normal guest, but as a daughter.
Letizia’s mother had died of heartbreak a few months after receiving the letter that her husband, the famous architect Ferdinando Cantarini, was shot for high treason. His position in the parliament and especially his friendships among the regime’s opponents brought him the upsetting truth about the Matteotti political murder. He couldn’t keep quiet about it but, unfortunately, he trusted the wrong people.
Letizia had just started university at that time and, being left alone in the world, she took care of the family properties while continuing her studies. She promised her father she would become an art historian, and she was not going to disappoint him. After more than ten years Letizia had completely fulfilled that promise by becoming the head of one of the most important archaeological research teams in Italy. Many well-connected people respected her opinion including, as it seemed, someone in the regime high-ranks.
In the dining room, at the same table as the night before, there were the two new guests now wearing their fascist Militia uniforms. They greeted her with a nod. Letizia looked again at the one she thought to know and, again, hoped she was mistaken.
Completely unexpectedly the perfume of the eau de cologne that her father used to wear reached her nostrils and, pleasantly breathing it in, she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she was welcomed by captain de’ Risis’ smile.
«Are you all right Miss Cantarini?»
«Yes. Everything’s fine. Thanks.»
«Are you sure?»
«I am positive. No need to worry, I just need a good real coffee. Would you like to join me?»
Bloody hell, why did she say that? Why did she invite him? She knew perfectly well that Alessandro was waiting for her to speak about something important and he certainly didn’t want to say it to the captain. It was the eau de cologne’s fault because, now she was absolutely sure about it, it was the 4711 that her father used to wear even if, on the captain skin, it created a more bitter scent, a definitely more masculine one.
Alessandro didn’t seem bothered by de’ Risis sitting with them: he would have in any case never spoken about thorny issues in a room where just a few meters away two fascists of the Militia, a Royal army captain and the two soldiers that accompanied him were sitting.
«It is a pleasure to introduce you to my colleague: Mr. Alessandro the Gre… Romei.»
«Nice to meet you, captain. But Letizia didn’t introduce me correctly. Because of my size friends normally call me Alessandro the Great. And it is not because they honour me thinking of some important historical leader, no, it is simply because of the great portions I normally eat! A propos, did you already try Rosa’s apple cake?» the ice was broken. Captain de’ Risis laughed at Alessandro’s self-irony and joined him eating the cake.
«Some more latte macchiato, captain?» asked Rosa nearing the table to serve Letizia with her beloved black coffee.
«Yes, please. Your cake is really fantastic, Mrs. Rosa.»
«Thanks. It’s Letizia’s cake. I prepare it when I want her good mood to come back» answered the woman kindly placing her hand on Letizia’s shoulder to caress her before turning to serve the two soldiers sitting in another table.
«Rosa is always so caring … But tell me captain, why is Mr. Morelli so interested in the skeleton?»
«Love for culture I guess. He told you himself» answered de’ Risis unprepared for such a direct question.
«I don’t think he is the kind of man who is interested in culture. It seems that someone higher than him is interested in it, I just wonder why.»
«For God’ sake! For once that the high ranks are interested in a discovery like this, let them be! Maybe we’ll get some more financial help and a good place in some university» exclaimed Alessandro.
«Maybe you are right. It is only that I am a bit upset by the terrible death our skeleton endured» said Letizia understanding that Alessandro was delivering her an escape.
«Do you already know if it was a male or a female?» asked the captain directing his amazing blue-cobalt eyes at hers.
Letizia nearly said all that she knew from the secret papers about the skeleton but she luckily stopped a second before she spoke. With some difficulty she was able to answer that probably the victim was a woman because that kind of punishment was rarely given to a man. She couldn’t affirm it yet but they were expecting the medical doctor that was going to clarify sex and cause of death.
«Imagine, she didn’t let me in! I really hope today I’ll be allowed to see the crime scene as well. What about you, captain, aren’t you curious?» asked Alessandro.
De’ Risis smiled. And his smile was so gorgeous that Letizia nearly forgot he was there to observe her every move, to spy on her, to make her be more… collaborative.
«Don’t you worry; you’ll see the crime scene as well. But you know how fussy I am. And in any case, tell me, how did you think you would pass your sylph-like body through that opening?»
«What do I have to listen to! Even though, I have to admit, I think I should wait until they enlarge the opening a bit more or I will risk to be trapped there for the next five hundred years.»
They laughed without noticing the two
fascists nearing their table.
«Good morning» said the one that seemed higher in rank speaking with an accent too strong to sound classy «my name is Antonio Musone. My colleague Gennaro Boriello and I have been sent here by Mr. Morelli as experts in art history to observe the works at the palazzo Biraghi. I imagine you are captain de’ Risis.»
«I am. Pleased to meet you» answered de’ Risis observing the insignia that showed Musone’s ranks. He was a centurion, the same rank of a captain in the regular Royal army.
Letizia was frozen.
The man who was speaking was the former professor who stole her work. The same who published her essay on the Carracci under his own name. She didn’t have any doubt now about the other man; doubts that in any case were going to be dispelled as soon as he came nearer and the smell of cheap cologne unpleasantly soaked her nose. Ten years had passed since Boriello betrayed her. After what he had done he had to go back to his city, Naples, with his tail between his legs and now he was standing in front of her as adjutant, a fascist Milizia marshal! They had to be crazy to reinstate him that way. Actually, thinking of it, she knew that they were totally crazy and he was exactly like the same scum that created the regime.
«I guess you are Miss Cantarini. And you are…?» asked Musone.
«Alessandro Romei, art historian.»
«Nice to meet you.»
While Alessandro was introducing himself, the captain noticed Letizia’s discomfort. She resembled a wax statue.
«The world is really so small and the coincidences in life are sometimes absolutely incredible, don’t you think, Letizia? Do you remember me?» asked Boriello coming nearer.
«Unfortunately I do. Pettiness seems to become mistletoe in between the branches of memory. Please call me Miss Cantarini if you must speak with me.»
The scarlet Lady Page 2