“I had no idea what was happening in the inn as I was leaving. I didn’t know whether it was quiet or noisy; if there were as many people there as when I arrived, or if there were less or if there were more; if they watched me or if they ignored me. I couldn’t have known, I was immersed in my own confused thoughts.
“I walked to my house as slowly as I could. My plight with Shallem had become even worse after my visit with Leonardo. Although I wanted to see him, I was afraid to see him.
“I thought about Leonardo and the vague statements and indecipherable riddles he had bombarded me with. Thoughts were turning circles in my mind but I wasn’t able to come up with any acceptable conclusions. Surely he was bluffing. He only knew a few of the important details about my life, that in itself was already too much. What if he had lied to me and knew everything, absolutely everything?
“As for the River Styx, had he wanted to send me some sort of message, a message so dark and terrible he didn’t dare speak it? Or had it been nothing more than a cunning riddle to make himself appear mysterious and interesting? If that’s what he intended, it worked.
“I finally reached the house. Trembling, I inserted the huge key into the lock on the door. It was already night. Had Shallem returned? Yes, he was home. In my rush to leave, I had just slammed the door shut but now the bolt was engaged. My heart pounded impetuously as I closed the door behind me and with only the weak light coming from a candelabra in the living room, I climbed the stairs one by one. He must be in the living room. The door stood half-open and I pushed it with my hands until it was completely open. He was there. Standing. The candle’s amber flames weakly illuminated his imposing figure. His hair was disheveled, his poignant eyes fixed on me. He looked spectral. I was glued to the floor, speechless.
“He wore an extremely dirty white shirt that hung over and almost completely covered a pair of knee-breeches. His right hand was on his hip, one leg was bent and he had something long and indistinguishable falling across his right thigh. I held his stare for as long possible while I suffered through a throng of contradictory emotions. I quickly looked around the small room. The flames on the candles blazed like dismal dancing spirits. Everything was neat and orderly, just as I had left it. The soft Spanish rug, a phantasmagoric pair of leather covered Dante chairs next to the wall, a Sgabello stool, which in the darkness looked like an old Roman sarcophagus, stood in front of a small table carved in the same design, and an oval table carefully placed directly in the center of the medallion weaved into the rug. Everything was submerged in shadows.
“Not thinking and with my heart pounding, I walked across the room to look for the long candle we used to light the chandelier. I finally found it hidden behind the curtains and then nervously ignited the wick using the flames of the candelabra. I lifted the candle and lit every single candle on the chandelier.
“I could clearly see the reflection of the flames dancing across Shallem’s frozen eyes, refracting from his lustrous hair, and illuminating the unmistakable small, dark stains of blood on his torn shirt. Some of the stains looked like sloppy splatters caused by sanguineous rain, others like careful brushstrokes in different lines and intensities. I was horrified.
“Then my eyes fell on the long object hanging from his waist. The object I wasn’t able to discern when I first entered the room. I looked at it terrified, it was a sword.
“ ‘Human weapons for a world of humans,’ he whispered.
“I was stupefied, unable to coordinate a sentence that would make sense. I looked at him from top to bottom, it was evident he had used it. But, against which charming citizen of beautiful Florence?
“ ‘What...?’ I started to stutter. ‘What has hap... Why?’
“ ‘Have you ever realized how fragile you humans are?’ he asked without a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“He drew the fine, long, sharp, and blooded sword from its sheath.
“ ‘Who was it?’ I asked in a barely audible voice. ‘Who did you kill?’
“ ‘My dear!’ he mocked. ‘You don’t remember? I killed dozens of your admirers.’ He was referring to the lie I told Leonardo!
“ ‘No!’ I screamed in anguish. In that instant, I realized that Shallem had been there when I spoke to Leonardo, in his true form, that is, invisible and incorporeal. He had killed him as soon as I had left and, like a ray of light, had returned to our house before me. He could do that.
“He threw the sword on the ground. The blood would stain the rug I liked so much, I thought foolishly. There was a knot in my throat, I couldn’t breathe.
“He approached me slowly, his expression was grave, terribly grave, threatening. I was frozen in place. I would have taken a step back but I didn’t even dare do that. He stopped two steps in front of me, somber, silent and circumspect.
“ ‘Do you want me to tell you how I did it?’ he asked. ‘Explain how I stalked my victims in the darkness. How I provoked them? How they fought me with absurd bravery, not knowing what I am? How easily I skewered them with my sword?’
“I could barely breathe. ‘Tell me it’s not my fault,’ I begged in a broken whisper.
“ ‘Your fault?’ he asked.
“ ‘Why did you do it?’
“ ‘Why not? I like to kill. It’s fun,’ he answered as he stood there pale and impassive like an inscrutable statue. With each second that passed, I felt more discomposed, closer to fainting.
“ ‘It’s like hunting,’ he continued. ‘Hunting entertains humans. Doesn’t it? And you have to practice to become a good hunter.’ His words were sarcastic but his voice and eyes were full of bitterness. The blood circulated awkwardly in my veins. I could feel it. My mind dulled, my limbs froze...
“ ‘Oh, but I was just. I played fair, I killed them with their own weapons. Not all men can say the same.’
“ ‘Tell me why,’ I murmured.
“ ‘Why? What’s the difference between killing for a reason or without one? Death doesn’t discriminate. What difference does it make whether I send him the souls of the righteous or unrighteous, they are equally reduced to ash. Sooner or later you all embrace death.’
“His eyes flashed. The sinister flames from the candles continued their death dance on his face, on his hands, on the sword’s stained blade, on the furniture and even on the cozy rug. I couldn’t move; I felt like I was about to be devoured by quicksand.
“ ‘It’s equally unjust to kill with reason or without, Juliette. So, what does it matter?’
“ ‘There has to be a reason!’ I yelled.
“ ‘Of course there’s a reason. Eonar. Don’t you remember? It’s the price I have to pay to save my child’s life. Six hundred and sixty-six victims in exchange for the life of an angel’s child. It’s more than a fair number, it’s a low number.’
“ ‘Six hundred and sixty-six!’ I shrieked, horrified.
“ ‘Yes. The number is Eonar’s little joke. Isn’t it funny?’
“ ‘Shallem, you can’t do this. I don’t want you to. I won’t let you.’
“ ‘You won’t let me!’ he exclaimed and raised his right hand in such a way that I thought he was going to strike me. ‘Do you think I would let the my child die?’
“ ‘But you can’t, you mustn’t, Shallem my love...,’ I sobbed.
“ ‘Oh, yes. Of course I can. In fact, I only have six hundred and sixty to go.’
“ ‘Don’t you see how much this is making you suffer? I can’t let you do this!’ I screamed and threw myself at him, I wrapped my arms around his chest and sobbed. ‘Please, I beg you... Oh God! I wish I had never asked you for a child. You warned me about what Eonar could make you do, but I swear I never thought that you would have to... I beg you Shallem, as much for the souls of those innocent people as for your soul and my own soul since I would be your accomplice.’
“I heard his heartbeat accelerate and felt the surge of his breath. He wouldn’t even put his arms around me.
“ ‘Do you blame me?’ I asked him
abruptly. ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it?’
“ ‘Of course not,’ he responded firmly, brushing his cheek against my hair. ‘My own weakness is to blame. My weakness for not being able to face what should be so easy for me to do. Also..., I don’t think I should trust him.’
“I looked up at him and begged again, ‘Then don’t do it. Don’t let him use you, Shallem. Don’t you see? Making you suffer amuses him!’
“ ‘You’re wrong. I’ll do as he asked and I will immensely enjoy doing it. It’s a game to me. A game I practice regularly. I’ve always done it and it was always easy.’
“ ‘You can’t be blind to your true feelings, don’t hide them from me! Eonar knows how you feel about this. If not, why would he ask you to something so horrendous? Listen to me Shallem, don’t let him mock you, don’t let him make you suffer. I want a child, yes, and I wish I could do something to avoid any harm that may happen. But I love you infinitely more and I couldn’t bear keeping a child who caused so much suffering. We’ll have another baby. All the babies we want...’
“ ‘Now you, listen to me,’ he said with the fierce anger of a man trying to convince others that his lies will become truths. ‘This is a game for me and for all other fallen angels. For us, no human life is worth shedding a tear over. Except, for me, you. Why should I care about sacrificing a million mortal lives? If you knew how many times I’ve killed for nothing, for mere amusement... My son will be born because I want him, because I knew the consequences when I created him, and never. Do you understand? I will never abandon him, even if I have to destroy all of mankind to save him.’
“He said something else, something I heard vaguely, like in a nightmare. My knees buckled and he held me in his arms. Then, I fainted.”
“Good God!” exclaimed the priest.
“Is that all you have to say?” the woman mocked. She got up and stood next to her chair for a few moments, tapping her fingers on the table.
“We have to keep going,” she said pensively and slowly crossed the room toward the window. “We continued living in Florence. Things had changed, but not substantially. Our love, our walks, watching the sun rise in the countryside, these things did not change. Our dreadful secret and our unborn child’s uncertain fate, made us live those moments more intensely; we were closer than ever. Florence was still our beloved city of resplendent colors. You could stop on any street corner or any hidden nook and gaze at artwork for hours. Nothing could be absorbed with a single glance and everything could be studied ten or twenty times with leaving something new to discover. Florence was an enormous palace beneath a luminous blue dome and great open spaces. It belonged to us. But, at nightfall, the horrors began.
“Shallem would leave me at home and in my solitude, I would imagine the atrocities he would commit. I imagined how his victims’ faces would pale as they felt his sword slide into their entrails. Innocent beings whose blood would save my son’s life.
“At times, he would come home as bitter, grim and pensive, as he had been the night he told me everything. Other times, he’d enter the house with an absent stare on his face, like a ghost, and without uttering a word, go straight to bed. And on other occasions, he would return infuriated and torture me by detailing, with his sharp and hurtful words, who he had killed, how he had done it and the extreme pleasure he had felt doing it.
“But the sole truth was that killing Florentines caused him unbearable pain. He loved their youth, their joy for life, their refinement, their love of beauty and perfection, their philosophical aura, their courage and rebelliousness. He saw them as little human replicas of himself. Sweet creatures among whom we had found happiness. He couldn’t find faults in them that were great enough to justify their slaughter.
“I knew he was suffering so I proposed we leave Florence to look for a place where killing each victim wouldn’t be such torture. He refused and told me that Florence was the place the killing had to be done, that the pain was part of the price he had to pay, part of the redemption for his guilt, that the more he suffered, the more hope our son would have since he wasn’t sure Eonar would keep his word.
The woman took a long, a very long break. In the absolute silence, you could hear her heavy, labored breathing.
“The majority of those he killed were students,” she added.
“What happened to Leonardo?” the priest inquired.
“Leonardo? Shallem didn’t kill him. He never intended to kill him. I saw Leonardo several times: hiding behind a door, watching from a street corner, peering over a balcony. But he never had another opportunity to approach me. I never left the house alone. I knew he was spying on me and that, at times, he would hide near our house and patiently wait for Shallem to leave. He would then pound on the door or throw rocks at the windows until Shallem returned. I never answered his calls.
“Of course, when we went for our walks, Shallem saw him sneaking around watching us. He also saw the unchaste way other men would look at me. When that happened, he would just stare into my eyes and smile sweetly. I was afraid Shallem would tire of being stalked by Leonardo and, on any given night, would decide to make him his next victim. I begged and used my best arguments so Shallem would spare his life. He told me, ‘You have nothing to worry about.’ Then he immediately started talking about something completely off topic, something more pleasant.”
–III–
“I already told you about the Piazza della Signoria. We continued going there every Sunday. Throughout the progression of my pregnancy, the passage of my nine lethal months, the number of students who innocently visited the Piazza was reduced by half. I watched how Shallem’s eyes absentmindedly glanced at the young men. I would wonder what he was thinking: those two tonight; that one over there never, that one no, that one yes. This is what I imagined.
“On one of these Sundays as we walked in the square, Shallem suddenly stopped short. He was rooted to the floor with an astounded look on his face and squeezed my hand until I cried out.
“I looked in the direction he was staring and saw a trivial scene. A beautiful young man who, judging by his clothes, could have been the doge of Venice was courting a beautiful lady. Nothing unusual, in appearance. There was a couple on every corner in the plaza doing the exact same thing. The only difference was that this gentlemen, although he was kissing the lady’s hand, had his eyes fixed on Shallem. As soon as I saw him, I recognized his supernatural nature. The way they stared at each other erased all doubt.
“I can’t explain how you, yourself, could distinguish a mortal from an immortal. To me it was something purely instinctive and in time, I understood why.
“When the lady walked away, the angel turned toward us without taking, even for a fraction of a second, his eyes away from Shallem.
“I was immediately captivated by him. Captivated by his elegance, his arrogance, his smile. Except for his extraordinary beauty, he looked like a normal human being, but his golden skin seemed to emanate light from every one of its pores.
“His thick blond hair which fell to his shoulders was slightly hirsute. His eyes were bright, like cottony clouds tinted in blue, and were shaded by pale, thick eyebrows. He was robust and extremely beautiful, extremely handsome.
“He approached us with a princely gait. How his eyes sparkled as he smiled at Shallem’s bewildered expression! But, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
“When he reached Shallem, they stood face to face and looked at each other, speaking to each other in their special way. Shallem kept looking at him as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. Finally, they threw themselves into each other’s arms. It was a powerful, trembling embrace, like a genuine mortal embrace. They remained in their embrace for a long time as they silently spoke with their eyes closed. Then, very slowly, and with displeasure, they parted as though it cost them the world to do so.
“Overwhelmed with admiration, I couldn’t keep my eyes off this new celestial creature. He turned to me and studied me closely, from top to bottom. The s
un shined resplendent in a blue sky, a crude imitation of his hypnotic eyes. Then he looked at Shallem.
“ ‘I almost understand you,’ he told Shallem in perfect French.
“He said it very slowly, pronouncing every word with total perfection. His voice was pure and perfect. Sweet, like the chiming of a harp; like Apollo’s lyre, you could say.
“ ‘Juliette,’ Shallem said, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘This is my brother, Cannat.’
“With exquisite manners, Cannat leaned over to kiss my hand.
“ ‘Madame,’ he said. ‘You are the most beautiful woman created in the last two million years.’
“I laughed nervously. Shallem seemed completely euphoric. He kept touching Cannat as though he were afraid he was an illusion, a ghost who could disappear at any moment. And the way he had spoken the word brother! He reveled in the term as though it could only be applied to the both of them.
“ ‘You weren’t expecting me, were you?’ Cannat asked Shallem.
“ ‘No,’ Shallem responded, bursting with happiness.
“ ‘I wanted to surprise you and come to help. You always have problems, my mischievous brother!’ He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and muttered, ‘I hope it’s worth it. Also, I’m going to take advantage of my time in Florence to visit...’ He gave me another sidelong glance. Obviously, he didn’t like speaking in front of me. ‘Someone. Let’s go somewhere peaceful. We’ll talk later.’
“On the way home, I realized how little I wanted to be in the company of someone other than Shallem. And I felt this way even thou I found Cannat’s company to be fascinating and marvelous.
“Although they tried to speak French, they would constantly use strange, foreign words that I could never understand nor commit to memory. Every now and then, they would have their silent and secret conversations in which they would only let sudden laughter or a few words escape. I felt out of place, as if I were imposing. Cannat was part of Shallem’s family, his favorite brother. Someone he could speak with without ever opening his lips, someone who knew him in ways I would never come to know him. Cannat shared his essence, his secrets, and even his most intimate thoughts. Cannat was his family, I wasn’t.
The Devil's Concubine Page 17