the clock of the old tower

By Alfredo Betocchi

From the magic pen of Alfredo Betocchi comes “The clock of the old tower” .
An ancient village veiled in mystery what clouds the age-old malfunction of the town clock?
To answer this simple question two lovers are drawn into a breathtaking adventure
which originated from an ancient tragedy, befelling another couple in love, centuries before.
In 1288 Elodia and Henry meet, fall in love, but Fate divides them, crushing Elodia's pure soul
The loss of her love darkens her spirit thirsty for revenge, she becomes a witch involving all the other characters that she meets along the way
Between witches and ghosts knights, crusades and bloody battles, tender moments of love
the story spans the centuries until its incredible end.
A book to read all in one go keeping you anxious to the end???

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publisher s23353
• Release date: Apr 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9788828304661

Book preview

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Prologue

Sometimes an incredulous man is faced with strange experiences, and his certainties vanish. Nothing is as it seems. Myths and dreams confuse his daily visions and usual perceptions of life, lazily established by the world, and everyday activities are displaced. At the end, for a second, he sees the spark of the incredible supernatural.

August

Borgo, a little town with a population of five thousand people, in a fertile Casentino valley, was set among green fields filled with wild flowers, vineyards, and olive trees, and surrounded by tall mountains and thick forests. In the winter, the mountain tops were covered with snow, and in the summer, the forest areas came alive with colour.

To the East, on a bare knoll, could be found the villa ruins of the Guidi family, the nobility of the area. The locals called it La Bicocca. It was all that was left of an ancient medieval castle, completely destroyed by wars and neglected by generations of noble heirs. The Riparello, a torrent, separated this from the first houses in the town, which was similar to a lot of other small towns in Tuscany. There was a seventeenth century parish church, an elementary school, and a public library which occupied space in a smart seventeenth century building. The municipal building dated back to the Middle Ages. It had a wonderful façade decorated with numerous coats of arms belonging to the various podestàs ruling the town between 1240 and 1490.

On the opposite side of the valley, a small wood covered a low hill, and on this hill, stood an old tower, straight and proud. It was a massive three-storey, brick, stone and long-lasting mortar construction firmly set in a small grassy space.

An enormous clock face was located on the side facing the town. At sunset, this austere building cast a sinister shadow over the rooftops. It seemed as if it were a sharp blade trying to cut the township in two.

The hill was pervaded by an evil aura and even the surrounding nature itself seemed to be scared and backed away. For decades, nobody had walked along the track abandoned among the trees. Even the birds dared not sing.

The Tower sat perched like a dark, one-eyed raven. A gigantic, white, evil eye with neither pupil nor iris, crossed by two black metal bars standing motionless. An ominous scythe on a white well...

In this pleasant but ominous town Mario and Chiara, two young people, would be overwhelmed by an incredibly upsetting adventure, originating many centuries prior their birth, in a dark period of time known as the late Middle Ages, and its aftermath would spread and influence even their near future.

Didascalia...

Henry of Torrebruna

Spring 1288.

The young nobleman rode light-heartedly on the back of Saetta, his steed, along a country track not far from the fields, where farmers were planting wheat. Enrico of Torrebruna was the future heir of an ancient noble family of the area, governed by a liege of the Guidi dynasty who ruled with an iron hand. He lived with his parents, servants and an old house-keeper in a tower on a hill overlooking the small village of Burgus (1), in Tuscany. Enrico was handsome, stalwart, with bright blue eyes and long, wind-blown, blonde hair. He was good-natured, open, fair, jovial, and more than one maiden in the county was in love with him. Enrico, the only son, was twenty five years old, and he always wanted to be the best, at everything he did. For some time now he had been waiting impatiently, for the right occasion in which to show off his military prowess. So at the moment, he wasn't considering love as being his prime objective. However, Destiny didn't have the same plans for him...

His family was a part of a faded nobility living in a secluded manner in the country. Forgotten by history, they got their name from their dwelling pace, a dark sturdy stone construction standing on the top of the hill.

Enrico couldn't wait to leave for faraway lands, adventures, win battles, commit wondrous deeds and on his return, be proclaimed as a mighty hero.

Eighteen years ago, his father had left, following Louis IX, King of France, on a Crusade to Africa and returned with a thousand tales of battles and epic attacks.

Enrico’s youth was spent listening to tales of his father's legendary conquests, and each one seemed different, more fascinating, and more interesting than the last. In the evening in front of a crackling fire, the boy would listen to his father's every word and his fantasy took him to landings on far-off sandy shores and ambushes in sunny deserts.

From a young age, he became an able horse-man, and would go for daily rides on Saetta, his faithful steed. During these moments of wandering, he'd dream of long sieges and heroic battles, and hoped to meet a courageous and foolhardy overlord who'd take him away, far from his calm, monotonous family estate.

One day, coming back from one of his usual outings, as he approached the first houses in the village, he slowed down his horse. Both of them were tired and sweaty from the long ride and the heat of the sun, still high in the sky, even though it was late afternoon. He could only think of something cool to quench his thirst, a hot bath waiting for him and unsaddling Saetta in the stable, when, suddenly...he saw her!

Enrico felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes lifted upwards towards a balcony to see a young maiden with long black hair, hanging out the washing. She was the personification of beauty!

A tight-waisted camisole surrounded and uplifted her breasts, artfully exposing them from her blouse. Her large skirt puffed