The Shadow Of The Bell Tower. Stefano Vignaroli
of the Franciolini house.»
Gallo picked up his instruments, cleaned them carefully, put them back in his purse, greeted the girl with a smile, and the Moor proclaiming: «Salam Aleikum, peace be with you, brother, and thank you for your precious help.»
«Aleikum as salam, thank you for the precious care you gave my master, I’m sure he’ll be all right.»
«Perhaps out of his wounds», said Gallo, closing the heavy door behind him. «But certainly not from the clutches of Cardinal Artemio Baldeschi.»
Over the next four days, Andrea fell prey to a fever, accompanied by his chills and delusions. Lucia had been close to him the whole time, doing exactly what Gallo had advised her to do and everything she knew about having learned from her grandmother Elena. In his delirium, Andrea often mentioned the witch Lodomilla, talked about the strange symbols drawn in the portal tile together with the seven-pointed pentacle, talked about a Jew who had initiated him to a particular kind of knowledge, sometimes appointed the biblical king Solomon, sometimes one of the wives of Emperor Frederick II, Jolanda of Brienne. She often pronounced, among other confused words, the name of a place, also known to her: Colle del Giogo. That place, which was located in the nearby Apennines a couple of days walk from Jesi, reminded her of the ritual with which, a few months earlier, she had officially joined the sect of witches worshippers of the “Good Goddess”. A few days before the spring equinox, her grandmother had told Lucia to be ready, as on the night of March 21st they would join the other followers of the coven up at Colle del Giogo, in the mountains of Apiro.
«Uncle says they are pagan rites, that most of the followers are heretics and sorcerers to be burned at the stake.» Lucia was a bit afraid, but curiosity outweighed fear. «Don’t you think it’s dangerous to attend this meeting, this Sabbah, as you call it?»
Her grandmother had tightened her shoulders, as if to say that she didn’t give a damn about what her brother thought, and answered her very naturally.
«When we speak of divinities, we speak of supernatural entities, which with their infinite goodness can show us paths to follow, paths that only with our eyes we would never be able to see. Now, if the true God is the Almighty Father proclaimed by your uncle, the Yahweh invoked by the Jew who lives in the little house down by the river, the Allah in which the Muslims believe, the Zeus of the Greeks or the Jupiter of the ancient Romans, where is the difference? Everyone can call God in his own way and receive the same favours, no matter what is the name he use. And if we are men and women here on earth, even in heaven, or in Olympus, or in the garden of Allah, there will be female gods. The one we worship as the “Good Goddess” was known to the Romans as Diana. Look, look at the facade of our palace. Look up: What do you see in a niche between the windows on the top floor?»
«The sacred image of Our Lady, of Mary, of the mother of Jesus, accompanied by the inscription “Posuerunt me custodem”, they placed me in the custody of this dwelling.»
«And so here we venerate Our Lady, the Holy Virgin. But remember that all the places sacred to us who call ourselves Christians, Catholics, were erected over ancient pagan temples, and the ancient divinities were replaced with the new ones. The same cathedral next door was built above the ancient Roman baths, and the location of the crypt corresponds to the location of the temple that the Romans had dedicated to the Goddess Bona, another name for Diana. As you can see, there is much in common between the different religions. In the same place where we will go in a few days, the ancient image of the Good Goddess has been replaced by a statuette of the Madonna, inside a tabernacle. The place is still sacred, and magical, and there is always someone who adorns the image with fresh and colourful lilies. It is our way of continuing to adore the Goddess, even if under the image of Mary, mother of Jesus.»
Lucia believed that her grandmother had a not indifferent culture, perhaps because she had access to the reading of forbidden books, kept in the family library. Perhaps she had been able to draw on the knowledge kept under lock and key by her uncle the Cardinal, perhaps without his knowledge, or perhaps because decades ago, when Elena was still a child, the books could be freely consulted. Then Artemio had arrogated himself the title of Inquisitor and had put under lock and key everything that was contrary to the official Faith. And it had gone well that he had not made a great bonfire of those precious texts, as other illustrious prelates in other cities of Italy and Europe had done.
«I understand, Grandma, the important thing is to believe in the good entity, which loves us and helps us, whatever its name.»
Contrary to what Lucia expected and what she had heard from those who feared the so-called witches, the ritual took place in complete tranquillity. No goat came forward to claim her virginity, nor did any of the participants try to torture her or make her sign oaths with her blood. The path to Colle del Giogo had not been easy. After the Moje lock, the path along the bank of the river Esino was often lost in the bush. Lucia could not understand how her grandmother could not get lost and find the trace of the ancient path even after having groped for several leagues in the woods, without apparent landmarks. At a certain point they had to ford the river and continue uphill along a dirt road that climbed up the hollow dug by a rushing torrent that descended from the mountain. They arrived in Apiro at lunchtime and were hosted by a young married couple, Alberto and Ornella, who offered them black bread and dried venison. The two had a little girl of about three years of age, two big blue eyes and flowing brown curly hair; she played with a rag doll near the fireplace, having fun dressing her in tiny coloured clothes, made of simple pieces of cloth. She seemed don’t care about what her parents were preparing to do, together with the new arrivals, for the evening.
«What are you going to do with the baby?» Elena asked the young couple.
«Oh, that’s all right, at seven o’clock the little girl is already in her strawberry tree. Anyway, we asked our neighbour Isa to come and take a look at her. She’ll do it gladly.»
Lucia, who had always slept in a comfortable bed, couldn’t understand how these people slept in those piles of woven straw.
They’ll be full of fleas! she thought, shuddering at the very idea that the next night she would have to sleep there too. Better dead than lying in one of those things.
The initiation ceremony of the new adept took place according to an ancient ritual. It was late at night when Lucia and her grandmother, in the company of their guests, immersed themselves in the stinging cold of the mountain. The fields were still covered with a light layer of snow and the path was illuminated by the bright disc of the full moon shining huge in the sky, as the girl had never seen before. Going up towards Colle del Giogo, at certain points one could sink into the snow up to the knee and it was tiring to go on, but when they reached the clearing to which they were heading, Lucia was amazed at how the place was almost completely cleared of the white blanket and the lawn was dotted with small and numerous colourful flowers, white, lilac, fuchsia, purple, yellow ...
«They are called snowdrops because they are the first flowers to appear as soon as the snow begins to melt, but their real name is “Crocus” and their dried stigmas can be used both as a condiment in the kitchen and for their medicinal properties.»
«Grandma, why does the temperature in this place seem more pleasant?» asked the curious girl.
«They say this is a magical place, but in reality the temperature is tempered by a hot spring. Here the subsoil is rich in sulphurous springs, which is why the temperature is a little higher. From now on, you will learn that most of the phenomena that ordinary people indicate as “magical” actually have a logical, rational explanation: just know how to look for it. They point us out as witches, but all we do is exploit ancient knowledge and natural phenomena for our own purposes. You see, a legend tells that about three hundred years ago one of the wives of Frederick II, the Emperor of Swabia, came to this remote place to hide something that her husband had told her to jealously guard, because she came from the Holy Land, from Jerusalem. Legends and traditions say that this object was a magic stone, a stone that the archangel Michael would give to Abraham or, perhaps, even the so-called philosopher’s stone that the ancient alchemists were looking for. This is a fairy tale, you’ll know the truth in a moment. And now, let us enter the cave. Let’s not be kept waiting!»