The Woman in Red

by Diana Giovinazzo

  “The peninsula wants freedom, that is a given. However, it’s our job to see to it that the freedom that they crave is in a unified Italy under the Piedmont monarchy.” José moved the bombilla in his gourd around, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “What of Ferdinand II in the Two Sicilies?” Paulo asked. “He is a progressive. Surely he would support a unified country?”

  “Oh, Ferdinand started off well enough, cutting taxes, building railroads and steamships,” José responded, “but when the people asked for a constitution, he suppressed them. We can’t count on him. King Ferdinand wants only power and is the antithesis of all that we fight for.” José took a long sip of his tea. “However, the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies is not my primary concern, at least not now. We first must contend with Austria.”

  “Austria will not let go of the north very easily. We need to expect a bloody war,” Rossetti agreed. His cravat was askew and his lips were stained purple with wine. He filled his glass once again. “I’ve been hearing whispers.”

  “Whispers?” José brightened up. “What whispers?”

  “There are two brothers, Attilio and Emilio, they are resurrecting the Carbonari guild. They are proclaiming that Italy must be unified. The fire has not died with the people.”

  José leaned forward in his chair. “Really?”

  Rossetti shook his head. “They are gaining support in very high places. The brothers are recruiting others, from students to nobility. They even say the young composer Giuseppe Verdi is among these recruits. We may be going home sooner rather than later, brother.”

  The biscuit I was nibbling suddenly tasted like dirt in my mouth.

  José sat back with an audible harrumph. “Home. Can we really go back? I had started to think it would never happen.”

  “All we need is a pardon from the king of Piedmont. He can offer us his protection. If these whispers are true, then he is on our side.”

  “Can we really do what the Medici family failed to do? Can we create a united Italy?”

  Rossetti smiled. “The Garibaldis will be the new Medicis.”

  José smiled and feigned bashfulness. “Some people would consider that blasphemy.”

  “You know what Machiavelli says: ‘A prudent man should always follow in the path trodden by great men and imitate those who are most excellent.’” José joined in with Rossetti in reciting from Machiavelli, “‘So that if he does not attain to their greatness, at any rate he will get some tinge of it.’”

  Rossetti leaned forward in his chair. “We can pick up where these great men left off. Brother, there can be an Italy within our lifetime.”

  This talk of Italy made me sick. I got up from the table, stretching. “I’ll see you in bed, my love.” I kissed José on the head and left the room. Lying in bed, I waited for sleep to overtake me.

  I was standing on a cliff, the wild wind blowing my hair into my face. I was alone. Truly alone. José was gone. Rossetti had taken him to Italy, and he was never coming back. My child and I had nothing left to live for. I stared down into the abyss. Suddenly the canyon looked even deeper than it had originally. Pebbles echoed as they tumbled down the rocky slope. I lifted my foot, taking a step forward…

  I woke with a start. The dream felt so real that my hand shook as I poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the basin. I splashed the cold water on my face. Looking out the window I marveled at the brightly shining stars that stood out in contrast to the ink-black sky. My eyes scanned the heavens when José came into the room.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

  “It’s no matter,” I said, setting my towel down and returning to bed.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.” I got into bed, making a point not to look at him.

  “All right then,” he said, lying down on the other side. “I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was I am sorry.”

  I didn’t want to be angry. I didn’t want to argue, but I couldn’t sleep. My blood pumped so fast that I could feel it coursing through my veins. I sighed.

  “It wasn’t what you did. It was what you said.”

  “What did I say?” he asked, sounding honestly bewildered.

  “Your talk of Italy.” I tried to make myself comfortable, punching my pillow.

  “Anita, I don’t understand. We were only talking about going home.”

  I rolled over to look at him, giving in to the inevitable fight. “You talked about running off to start another war. You haven’t even finished with this one and now you want to leave us? Finish what you started,” I spat.

  My words landed heavily between us. “I am not leaving anytime soon,” José began, “but how can I not be excited about going home? My people need me.”

  “And what about my people? They still need you.”

  “I am committed to freeing southern Brazil. You know that. Anita, what is this really about?”

  I looked at him, unable to answer. He reached for me, but I pulled away.

  “Do you think I am going to leave you here?” When I was silent, he took my hand. “Tesoro mio, I could never leave you behind.”

  I let him stroke my face, blinking back tears that stung my eyes. “When you go home, what will become of me?”

  “You will raise our son and the other children we will have. We’ll grow old and sit under the olive trees, watching our grandchildren play.”

  “But José, I know nothing of your home. I don’t even speak the language.”

  “Then Rossetti, the Costas, and I will teach you. The language really is not all that different from Portuguese.” He wiped a tear from my cheek. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

  He pulled me to him. “In fact, you already know two words.”

  “Tesoro mio,” I said into his chest.

  “My treasure.” He stroked my hair. “How could I possibly contemplate leaving behind my greatest treasure?”

  Twenty-Two

  The next morning, I woke to find myself alone in bed. As I dressed, I could hear quite a bit of commotion; I picked up a small orange and made my way outside to investigate.

  Walking to the shore, I squinted in the glaring sunlight, peeling my fruit as I went. The regiment was cobbling together a small number of boats.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Rossetti continued to hammer, not looking up at me. “There is an Imperial garrison north of us.”

  “And you’re going to fight them? Now?”

  Rossetti set his tools down before squinting up at me, frustration shadowing his face. “Some of us have work to do. You’re about to give birth. Shouldn’t you be in your confinement?”

  I took a breath, trying to control my temper. “Antonia says that walking is good for me.”

  Rossetti grunted as he turned back to his work. I continued to walk along the shore.

  “Tesoro mio, what are you doing out here?” José was dragging a small rowboat to the shore. “Why aren’t you resting?”

  “I wanted to see what was going on. Rossetti says that you are leaving?”

  José was slightly out of breath as he dropped the boat on the ground. “Yes, there is an Imperial garrison in the north. We’re going to raid them for supplies.”

  “But now?”

  “I know.” He put a hand to my belly. “The timing is not ideal, but we may be able to keep them from joining the rest of the legion in the south, giving Canabarro’s men a fighting chance.” He kissed my cheek, then went back to work.

  Already feeling tired, I went back to the house to rest. I settled into a chair by the window as my eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic hammering outside served as an impromptu lullaby.

  I watched as a woman with hair as black as the midnight sky on a starless night walked through the ranks in a white dress that flowed like the river as she moved. I leaned closer to the window, trying to get a better view.

  She let her hand trace along the men’s shoulders. Why didn’t they look up? Why didn’t they not
ice her? Something was wrong. She stopped at Rossetti and José, who were fitting a piece of wood to the bottom of a boat. My heart raced. I stood up, I tried to yell, but my throat seized. The woman ran a loving hand along the side of Rossetti’s face as he continued to work. I pounded on the window. Not José. Please, not José. The woman turned her head to watch me. The air escaped my lungs in a rush. The face that looked at me was the same face that watched in the mirror.

  “Dona Anita! Dona Anita!” I woke with a start, feeling disoriented. Immediately I looked to the window. There was no woman among the men.

  “Dona Anita!” I looked down at the little hands that were shoving my arm. Little Patrizio looked up at me hopefully. “Fix. Fix.” He plopped a miniature wooden rocking horse into my lap. The legs were pinned at its sides so that when the horse rocked the legs would sway as if it were running. Evidently one had fallen off. I lifted it up and examined it.

  “Patrizio!” Antonia rushed over, shooing her child away. “Bambino, let Dona Anita sleep.”

  “It’s no bother,” I said, giving the toy back to Patrizio. “He woke me from a bad dream.”

  Antonia shook her head. “I do not miss those pregnancy dreams.”

  * * *

  Two days later I watched from the shore as our men sailed up the river to meet the Imperial army. My dream still gnawed at me, leaving a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. The next two weeks were endless. Every minute felt slower than the last. I looked forward to when sleep would overtake me. At least in my sleep I got to see José.

  In my sleep we were happy. We had a little ranch here in São Simão. We owned cows and horses and had a little boy who smiled like his father, but whose eyes sparkled like mine. Who knew, maybe José and I would have more children than the Costas. They would play and tumble over each other like a band of wild puppies, never knowing pain or the sense of struggle as they wandered through the Brazilian wilderness in search of grand adventures.

  I reveled in the idea that I could watch the sun set from the same place every day. We could live unbothered by Destiny and her schemes. All I needed was my family and a small house here in São Simão. But as all dreams do, this one faded with the rising sun.

  The day was dying when the boats floated down the river. I ran out to shore, eager to see José. My smile fell as the boats sailed closer. There were so many men missing from the ranks.

  José’s boat hadn’t even reached the shore when he jumped out, waist deep into the muddy current. He splashed loudly as he awkwardly moved out of the water to me. He wrapped his arms around me, holding on as if he were afraid he would be pulled back into the river. I didn’t ask what had happened. I didn’t need to.

  José pulled away as Rossetti finally reached the shore with the boat that José had been in. He held his silence, trudging out on the wet sand and organizing the men. “Did we accomplish anything?” I asked, watching the beaten soldiers and trying to find some hope to latch on to.

  “Besides nearly getting killed? We may have weakened their forces just a bit, but I doubt it. Moringue has a grudge to settle.”

  I caught myself, freezing midbreath. José noticed my reaction. “Anita, this is not your doing. Moringue and I were enemies long before I knew you.” He shrugged. “He’ll never forgive me for making a fool of him in São Paulo.”

  “I know, but I’m sure I damaged his pride.” I rubbed my arms against the gooseflesh that appeared. “A man whose pride has been damaged is a dangerous thing.”

  José kissed my forehead. “Moringue is not your concern, tesoro mio.”

  * * *

  It was just before dawn when I woke with the pain. The damp linens clung to me, causing an initial sense of panic. I thought for sure this child was going to claw his way out of me. I called out for Antonia, who ran to my side within moments.

  “What a fine morning to have a baby, don’t you think?” She spoke pleasantly, as if this sort of thing were as common as milking a cow. Julia and Beatrice staggered into the room, wiping the sleep out of their eyes. Beatrice grew wide-eyed as she stared at me. This was apparently her first childbirth. I could sympathize with her, I was a bit scared as well. Antonia rushed over to them, giving them a number of commands in Italian before turning back to examine me.

  “The baby is not quite ready to make his way out. So how about we have a little walk, shall we?”

  Antonia firmly grasped my arm, letting me lean into her. She patted my hand and told me stories about the births of her children. “Now, Patrizio, he couldn’t wait to come out of me. I swear that child entered this world running.” She shook her head. “That boy will run around the world and never look back.”

  A pain shot from my abdomen around to my back, causing me to double over. Antonia stood by my side as the cramp passed through. Once I could stand back up she began walking with me again. “Now, Beatrice was just the opposite of Patrizio. I think she would have stayed in my womb her whole life if I let her. By the time she was supposed to come, I was performing every piece of advice I was ever told to encourage her to make her entry into this world. Including eating all of the peppers in the village!”

  I tried to smile at the thought but was too scared and weary from the pain. The girls came back into the room with arms full of rags and fresh water. “All right, Mamãe, let’s get to work,” Antonia said, setting me down on a stool. “When I say push, you push like your life depends on it. Understand?”

  I nodded, eyes wide with fear. Both her daughters stood on either side of me, letting me clasp their small arms. In that moment, I wondered how fragile they were. Minutes stretched into ages. It felt like every moment ticked by slower than the next as I worked to expel this child from within me. Half an hour later my son was born. All pink and wrinkly, screaming in victory.

  Antonia handed the baby over to Julia for her to tend to as she helped me pass the afterbirth. I was grateful to be able to lie back in the warm bed with fresh linens when we were finished. Every muscle in my body ached, but I didn’t mind. My child had finally made it into the world. This thing that had been so abstract for so long now yawned deeply as I held him.

  José rushed into the room. “They finally let me come in!” He stood over my child and me in utter awe.

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  “Can I? Do you think that’s wise?” His eyes opened wide with fear.

  “Of course.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “After all that he’s been through I doubt he will break.”

  He took the child gently in his arms. He stared at him for a long time before looking up at me. “We have a son,” he said in amazement, “and he’s perfect.”

  “Well, almost,” I said. José looked at me with a mix of surprise and confusion.

  I nodded toward our baby. “Look at his head.”

  José looked to where I was pointing and saw what we had all seen shortly after his birth. A two-inch ridge traveled from his crown to his ear. “It’s from when I fell from the horse.”

  José smiled brightly. “Then he really is our victory child, isn’t he? What’s his name?”

  I shrugged. “I did the hard part. Why don’t you do the naming?”

  “Did I ever tell you about my tutor?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “Menotti was his name. He was one of the first people to not just talk about a unified Italy but to encourage the people to make it happen. He started the Carbonari, a band of men who began the call for unification.” Our son yawned while stretching out his little fist, making José smile. “Menotti was revolutionary for his time. The people were just beginning to wake up to the idea of freedom. I for one soaked up all that I could from him. He was a kind man; if anyone needed anything, he was the first to give it to them. Even if he had just one loaf of bread, he would break off a small piece for himself and give away the rest. But he was too much of a revolutionary for his own good. The Austrians didn’t like his talk about unification. Which, of course, would mean an end to A
ustrian rule. The governor had him hanged.” He looked up into my horrified face. “Being one of his disciples, I should have died too, but I managed to escape. Death by exile.” He turned his attention back to our son, who had grasped his finger. “We’ll call our son Menotti. Menotti Garibaldi, our victory child.”

  For two more glorious weeks we lived in São Simão. I thought that maybe, just maybe, we would be able to settle here. That the life I had dreamed about might actually happen. However, on a rainy morning in October I realized that my dreams could never be.

  I was nursing Menotti when José burst into our room. “Moringue is on his way here. We need to leave.”

  Twenty-Three

  October 1840

  Antonia was distraught over our leaving in the early morning hours, but we didn’t have a choice. If we were there when Moringue came through, the whole village would be wiped out. We needed to lead the Imperial army away, find safer territory.

  Santa Catarina had already given up on the rebellion. Rio Grande do Sul still fought with every last resource it had. The Farrapos needed to regroup. I knew this, José knew this; the only question was, did the commanders of our army know? The plan was to meet with the rest of the Farrapos in Rio Capivari. Once there we would reorganize and make a push to expel the Imperial forces from Rio Grande do Sul once and for all.

  I could smell the rain in the air. All night I could hear the thumping of fat water drops, and by the look of the clouds that ominously clung to the mountains, it would rain again.

  “But I don’t understand. Why must you leave?” Antonia said, fussing with my gear.

  I smiled. “Because I am just as much of a danger to you as the army is.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re only one woman.”

  “You’d be surprised how much trouble one woman can seem to stir up. Antonia, I have met Moringue before. He will not be kind if he finds me, nor will he show sympathy to anyone who harbors me.”