Beyond the Raging Flames Read online

  ‘Very well’ he said, ‘we leave tomorrow after Mass.’

  Later that evening

  Bianca wailed, at considerable volume, when she heard the news, and clutched at herself like a woman at her wit's end. She paced around the kitchen, sat down, got up, chewed at her knuckles, wrung her hands, and crossed at herself in a frenzy as if swatting lice that infested her bodice. After almost fifteen minutes of gesticulation, crying, gasps for mercy, and shaking her fists Bianca insisted they all join hands and dragged everyone down to kneel at the mantelpiece, adorned with Mary figurines and all sorts, whereupon she launched into fervent prayer. Everyone sat mute save for the odd dismembered ‘Amen’ offered up here and there by Dondo who struggled to keep up with Bianca’s rapid Psalter. After the mistress had exhausted herself, she declared: 'carry me to the kitchen for I fear I shall die!' Bianca swooned as she was lifted, by everyone, Illawara and Hermes took one leg each and carried Bianca onto the kitchen table like a partridge shot out of the sky. She lay on the creaking wood as if gripped by fever. Grizelda scurried to snatch up the strongest drink she could find. After a few minutes she came back with a bottle of Greek Ouzo, swiped from Dondo’s secret stash, and she poured out a short glass of the aniseed spirit before Dondo could protest.

  Bianca sprang forward to snatch up the glass and throw the Ouzo down her throat and blinked a couple of times. Dondo grumbled at the obvious proof of who liked to pilfer his favourite seafaring drink. Somewhat calmed Bianca coughed and cleared her throat before she began to speak again. Illawara and Hermes looked on dumbfounded; they had never seen such a performance:

  ‘My dears’ she said after a deep swallow, ‘this is a TRAGEDY. My last and only brother is ruined and lies within a dungeon at the Doge’s pleasure, and has to share his cell, no doubt, with bandits, frauds, robbers and murderers.’

  ‘I think the debtors are kept separate; Mother’ interjected Antonio,

  ‘Don’t interrupt' she sniped, prodding the air, 'I’ve not finished’ she added before she continued. ‘And I also learn, to my horror, that my only son is to meet a stranger in a common tavern located in that cauldron of inequity, Venezia: where any wrong could befall him, and I unable to help.’

  ‘Mother, you go Venice frequently to shop.’

  ‘That’s not the point' she added with a swipe of her finger, 'an old woman is safe in such a place of vice and sin.’ Bianca dabbed at herself with a rag of lace,

  ‘Hermes will accompany me’ said Antonio,

  ‘Will he?’ said Illawara, as she gazed wide-eyed in Hermes’ direction. Hermes tried to avoid her look:

  ‘Yes, he will’ said Antonio, ‘he’ll bear witness should anything happen to me.' Illawara’s shrank into coldness, and Grizelda thought she noticed fear, as the maid struggled to contain a smile that threatened to erupt all over her face.

  ‘I suggested it’ said Dondo more for Illawara’s benefit than Bianca’s, and the young woman acknowledged the effort with a weak nod and a step back.

  ‘The Serene Republic has been kind to those in exile, mother’ said Antonio, to remind his mother, ‘we’ll be fine.' But the mistress would have none of it, and continued her lament:

  ‘Why, oh why should this happen? And when we barely have two scudi to rub together. His Holiness should never have lifted the Interdict on that hellish place. If it were up to me, I'd have the whole place sunk into the sea!’ Grizelda poured another glass of the potent Greek beverage for Bianca and ignored the flapping arm of Dondo. Bianca downed the measure as swift as the first, and gasped: ‘Maybe I can get God on our side?’ She said with sudden optimism, ‘tomorrow’s Mass will be the feast of Saint Oda and Saint Romanus of Rouen - helpers of the Poor and the imprisoned' she became animated, 'yes, yes, and only two weeks ago it was the feast of Our Lady of Good Remedy. She will help us. I’ll pray fervently to the Madonna, to the Saints, to ALL of them - I'll even rattle the bones of Saint Antonio to plead for an intercession to end our misery.'

  Grizelda reached forward to pour her mistress another glass of the white spirit, but Dondo snatched the bottle away, without Bianca seeing, and gave a sharp wag of his finger at the maid that seemed to relish the turn of events. Bianca dabbed again at herself and took hurried breaths: ‘Illawara you shall accompany me to the Basilica as planned' Illawara squirmed, 'I insist. Grizelda, you will light candles for us in the Duomo and Saint Giustina.’ The inner smile sank from the maid’s presence, ‘in this crisis we need to be sure our bases are covered. Antonio and Hermes, you’ll both attend us to the Basilica where extra prayers can be said for you both before you go to Venezia.’ Bianca seemed to wobble before she shook her fist in the air, declaring: ‘it will be done.’ The mistress then came off the table like a regal queen who had just commanded her troops with a battle cry. She stood for a moment - eyeballing everyone with fervour - before swooning. Bianca was then taken off to bed by Grizelda and Dondo as the shock, and the Ouzo took full effect. Antonio rolled his eyes and shook his head before he made off for the living room to leave Illawara and Hermes to themselves. Illawara turned to Hermes in the instant that Antonio left the kitchen:

  ‘How could you Hermes?'

  'What?' he said frowning.

  'How could you leave me here alone with that bitch Grizelda?’

  Hermes looked down to the floor before he looked Illawara in the eye. ‘I have to go, Illy’ Hermes entwined his hands, ‘He needs me.’

  ‘So, do I. We came here TOGETHER remember, together to find my father' Illawara paused to swallow 'you can’t leave me too’ she said, her face flushed and her voice starting to waver.

  ‘I’m not leaving you. We won’t be gone for long. Venice is not far away. His uncle could be in a bad way. It’s safer with two people. What if the stranger means him harm?’

  ‘And what if we don’t find my father? What if we can’t convince him to come back? What if something goes wrong? What if we end up stuck here? What if we can’t ever go home?’ She said as she struggled to control her voice. Hermes puckered his lips and shuffled his feet on the floor. She stood and looked at the youth for a while: ‘I think you care more for him than he does himself, and definitely more for him than me.' Illawara’s lips clenched into a line as hot tears rolled down her face. Hermes sighed.

  ‘That’s not true, Illy. You don’t understand. Something is telling me I must do this. Around him, I can say and remember things I hadn’t said or remembered before. As time goes by I can speak about things with less and less pain. I get more and more memories of myself when I'm around him.’ Hermes looked beyond the walls, ‘I need to go. But we’ll return soon.'

  Illawara stood and looked at Hermes who seemed to glow within as if he were a lantern, and saw a young man speak as if light were emerging from his very being. She made a half step toward Hermes with her palms outstretched:

  ‘Please’ she whispered. But Hermes stood fixed in silence, his body then angled away from her, his face calm and his eyes full. Illawara leaned forward for a moment, but Hermes stepped back. She then moved away from her friend and nodded before she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. ‘I see’ she said, before she bid Hermes good night, and walked to her bedroom. Hermes closed his eyes tight, tipped his head up to take in a deep breath, and wiped away moisture from the corners of his eyes and nose as his heart raced:

  ‘I have to go’ he whispered to himself, ‘I’ve no choice.'

  Chapter 3

  Visions

  Padua, morning, Sunday, 23rd of October 1611

  Bianca awoke early, with a fuzzy head, and leapt into a frenzy of activity. She pulled garments from all sorts of chests and combined the laces and frills she found there for best effect. She saw to it that Hermes changed into some more of Antonio’s stored clothes, that were more sober and appropriate for church. After nearly two hours of her efforts, stitching, prodding and posing, Illawara stood transformed into a vision shrouded nun’s lace, and dark blue damask. Around her slender neck, she wore Bianca’s best amber
rosary.

  The delicate lace could not conceal Illawara’s looks, but the attempt added mystery - as Bianca intended -and her blue eyes seemed to glow the brighter for it against her tan skin. The mistress clapped her hands as she looked at Illawara, and nodded her compliments to Hermes who looked good in her son's spare clothes. She then contented herself with her own fashion, choosing a simple dress, as she swept a bright shawl over her shoulders to distract the eye from her broadening waist.

  Bianca then scrutinised Grizelda’s clothes, to be sure that she was appropriate for church, but given the maid’s drab wardrobe there was no danger of extravagance or causing offence. Dondo tutted under his breath when Bianca carried out her inspection. Grizelda gave a stiff smile as she was looked over, but she could not help but notice the sombre radiance emanating from Illawara as the light from the window illuminated her graceful silhouette through the fragile lace.

  With another clap of her hands, Bianca gathered her household and recited a prayer from her threadbare psalter. Dondo looked at the ceiling as the mistress said the prayer, known by heart, with passion before he caught Illawara's eye - as she had not closed her eyes as the others had done. Dondo tossed in an 'Amen' at the end of Bianca's final declaration, and the two exchanged tiny smiles with each other, before Bianca, and the others opened their eyes. The mistress then fussed to straighten Antonio’s clothes, before complimenting her ‘handsome boy.’ After a hasty breakfast of bread, hams and cheese, Bianca ushered all with her except Dondo, the suspected Atheist, who was instructed to look after the house and keep away from the taverns - and other ‘Mass skippers’, while they were gone.

  Within minutes they were all out into the street to join the other Paduans on their way to Mass as the sound of church bells rang in the air to announce the feast of Saint Oda and Saint Romanus of Rouen. Grizelda said her goodbyes when the troupe reached the fruit market, and she peeled off to walk across the piazza to make her way to the Duomo:

  ‘Don’t forget to say a Paternoster before you light a candle’ Bianca called after her maid, who acknowledged the request with a gesture without looking back.

  The trickle of people leaving their houses for mass increased to a throng as the group walked along the broad walkway of the via Roma. Bianca walked at a steady pace arm in arm with Illawara and enjoyed the numerous glances in their direction as the sunlight illuminated the lace that covered Illawara’s face, and threw her profile into dark relief. The mistress held her head high as she led the way, but let her eyes rotate here and there to assess Illawara's impact.

  ‘Everyone’s looking at her’ whispered Hermes to Antonio as they walked behind both women.

  ‘Indeed, they are’ said Antonio through the corner of his mouth, ‘I can’t stand these “processions”' Antonio grumbled, 'they say it’s all about faith and church, but almost everyone comes out to see who’s with who, and what others are wearing.’ Hermes' eyes darted from side to side as he tried to stay looking ahead.

  ‘They seem very curious’ He said as he observed the heads that turned to talk with one another after they had looked in Illawara’s direction.

  ‘They’re just nosey' hissed Antonio, 'She’s someone new. Someone they don’t know. Mother has been going to Saint Anthony’s for years.’

  ‘Does Bianca go on her own when you’re not here?’

  ‘Only if Grizelda’s busy, but before she came mother would have to go on her own.’

  ‘Oh’ said Hermes as they walked along. Hermes looked at the people as the group emerged from the narrow via Locatelli that led to the broad expanse of St Anthony’s Basilica: all manner of fashions were on display as it became apparent to him that, for this mass at least, the people had gone to great effort with their dress. Many of the men wore short capes in bright colours over their dark woollen doublets as they strutted to church like farmyard cockerels, with their pantaloons nipped in at the knees to reveal a buxom calf or reedy leg - depending on what he had to offer the eyes of the public. Some of the men walked arm in arm with their spouses, or shoulder to shoulder with other males of the family, or hand in hand with their children who often gave into the urge to scamper about with their friends or cousins. The children were heedless to the calls of ‘modesty’ that came from their parents and drowned their corrections with giggles, laughter, and the brush and bustle of childhood. The women wore wide skirts and chattered as they scanned their environment, from all sides, with the slightest movement of their heads; like proud geese with a brood of young.

  Bianca did the same as the others and kept a tally of the glances that fell Illawara’s way as the young woman walked forward calm, smooth, and aloof: heedless of any attention that followed her.

  ◆◆◆

  Bianca sat with pride after the group had entered St Anthony’s grand Basilica, as a reverent silence fell upon the congregation before going into the gilded womb of the sacred church, and she took care to seat herself and the rest nearest the front pews to be sure that all eyes could look their way. Illawara sat next to Bianca with a modest bow, and Hermes allowed his eyes to wander around the new baroque embellishments, cornices and pediments spangled with gold, that adorned the Basilica from floor to ceiling.

  The sacristy bell rang clear within the hallowed space and brought an end to the fidgeting and shuffling of the congregation as people adjusted their sight-lines to their new mysterious guest. The Mass began when the censer, called Lucca: an acolyte youth of seventeen whom Bianca knew well, swung his golden ball of incense to and fro to lace the air with smoke as he processed up the aisle with solemn reverence. Behind him, his friend, and fellow acolyte, Marchelino, bore a spangled crucifix upon a long rod, with the twisted body of Christ against shiny fronds of polished silver - that seemed to shoot out from his body like needled rods of light. Illawara sat rigid as a waft of incense induced a vivid memory of home, the Hermeporta snakes, and her preparations to use the device. Bianca fanned at herself with the finest feather fan that she could dig out of her collection as if she were burning up under the glare of collective attention. She took a side look at Illawara who sat poised and remote as if gazing upon the world from a tower. The mistress did not dare look back at the congregation and, instead, absorbed into herself the collective gaze of the Mass as a sunflower does the sun. Gregorio, the bible holder, walked forward with the hefty tomb held aloft - slow and steady like Hercules bearing the world: his broad face bore a furrowed brow with rosy cheeks. He allowed himself a quick glance to the side at the young woman in lace, before he joined his fellow acolytes near the altar.

  Cesario Gondolfo, the priest, emerged through the fog of incense unseen via a side door to stand at the pulpit in his full vestments. He waited for the smoke to disperse for him to emerge like a tower of strength that could command the clouds. ‘Hark!’ he bellowed with his arms outstretched, startling Hermes, Illawara and some others into taking a sharp breath: ‘today is the solemnity of Saint Oda, Saint Romanus of Rouen and many others I've not the gift to remember.' Some of the congregation covered their mouths to hide their laughter. The priest let his voice echo around the cavernous Basilica as he took pleasure from any newcomers he could still surprise: Bianca suppressed a smile as Illawara gave her a quizzical side look.

  Cesario then turned to face east before he launched into the Asperges prayer in full Latin verse, and Illawara became glad of her veil when the priest flung sprays of holy water into the pews to douse and bless the congregation. Like an egg-laying turtle throwing sand to cover her eggs, so Cesario tossed his holy water over his flock. Bianca received a full slosh in the face with the water but did not flinch her dousing, and accepted it with an obedient ‘Amen.' Illawara had to chew on her lip not to laugh as the mistress dabbed at her wet face and lap. She glanced to her side and saw that other women of the congregation had no choice but to remove their fine lace partlets, made wet and transparent, for a moment to mop at their damp cleavage with whatever came to hand.

  ‘That’s quite some aim’ Ill
awara said under her breath, as she continued to suppress a smile while the pious women crossed themselves, ignored the keen male glances, and said: Amen.

  Cesario finished the prayer with gusto before he moved to the base of the altar and made a sign of the cross. He paused, yearning arms aloft, his eyes searching space as if consumed with some profound thought before he flung himself down prostrate, with a thud, on the floor of the altar base and gave his Confiteor prayer, in full voice, from there. One or two gasps of surprise escaped from those new to Cesario's style.

  Bianca could see the familiar thin frame of the Deacon, Vittorio Paodogini, give a slight shake of his head and mutter something under his breath to Lucca as he looked on.

  ‘He’s filled with the Holy Spirit today’ whispered Bianca, smiling, as she began to fan herself again while she feasted her eyes on the twitching body of the prostrate priest.

  Illawara, with arched eyebrows, nodded back in acknowledgement with a stiff smile. Hermes followed the sermon with ease, nodding here and there, as the priest swept his way through the prayers of Introit, and the Kyrie.

  ‘Do you know Latin?’ said Antonio who had watched Hermes almost mouth along with the sermon.

  ‘I do’ he said, ‘but I thought I’d forgotten it.’

  ‘You surprise me’ said Antonio. Hermes smirked, before Bianca bolted upright, yanking Illawara up with her, and let fly with the Gloria at the top of her voice a moment before the choir sang in lavish praise of the Lord. The congregation, surprised by Bianca's ambush, then stood with haste to join in and catch up. But Antonio stood pink-faced for a while as he sung out the Gloria - with a greater talent than his mother’s. Hermes did not know the song but instead listened to Antonio’s smooth voice while Illawara thanked her veil again as she mumbled along, befuddled, as Bianca rattled out the verse.