Brother Eduardo's Mortal Sin, Crime and Fate: The Santore Story

By Rudy Leeman

This is a story in 3 parts. Each part is unique, revealing the nature and practices of international child trafficking. We begin with a woman plunging to her death. We're drawn into the patriarchal culture of 19th century Italy as it struggles to become one nation. It's Brother Eduardo's story, told in three parts. The rights of women lie in the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leeman Worldwide
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987725818

Rudy Leeman

Rudy Leeman, retired public education teacher and Lutheran clergyman, began writing historical novels. His earlier Tate Publishing release, For Everything a Season, covers eight generations of a family of strong men and stronger women suffering torture, imprisonment, and death. His Santore Story trilogy is a spin-off of one his characters in Season, set in explosive nineteenth-century Italy. He completed it after moving with his wife, Carol, from California to their new home in Georgetown, Texas.

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Brother Eduardo's Mortal Sin, Crime and Fate

Copyright © 2023 by Rudy Leeman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: (Ebook) 979-8987725818

The views expressed in this book are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Leeman Worldwide

Brother Eduardo's

Mortal Sin, Crime and Fate

Rudy Leeman

Contents

Introduction

BOOK I

I Shall Want for Nothing

He Leads Me to Green Pastures

He Restores Me

Righteous Paths

Into the Shadowed Valley

I Fear No Evil

His Rod and Staff Comfort Me

The Table Before Me Is Set

In the Midst of Enemies

My Cup Overflows

Goodness and Mercy Follow

BOOK II

Introduction

Speaking with Tongues

But Knew I All Things

To Move this Mountain

Had I Loved Enough

The Generous Heart

Overpower Evil with Good

Persevering Love

I Know Only in Part

Reflections Face-to-Face

And the Greatest Gift

BOOK III

Introduction

Circumstance and Evil

Fruit Bearing

The Drivel of Evil

Harvesting

Evil vs. Good

A Measure of Good

Practicing Good

Struggling for Patience

Exercising Good upon Evil

Practicing the Good

In This House I Will Always Dwell

Introduction

Mysteries set in the context of current history stand without the necessity of informing the reader of what is going on in the world around the story. Our mindset easily acquires the conditions surroundi ng a plot.

Such is not the case for Brother Eduardo’s Mortal Sin as well as the sequels. The series is set in the mid to latter nineteenth century in a divided Italian peninsula, of people struggling with nations around them to secure their independence, their unity, and their unique identity, Italiano… and their country Italia.

It’s a complex scenario. I only sketch the barest outline of the fascinating development of the final identity we know today as Italy on a world map. Remember, only what you feel is necessary to accept the events of the plot. The movement of people around evolving Europe, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire as well as the forces weighing in on the characters provides the perspective of what people faced in their Italia and in a world at war with itself.

The series will involve us in the Crimean War, the first of the modern wars, and some of the remarkable familiar characters inhabiting it. The following is a list of dates, names, and events centered in Italia covering the years 1800 to 1885, the background of the Brother Eduardo story.

Napoleon III declares himself Emperor of Italy, effectively extending the Empire of France over the peninsula southeast of the country.

Congress of Vienna divides Italy between European nations. These nations are teams of the west—England, France, Belgium—and the eastern teams of Austria/Hungary in the east. Austria was the enemy of the western nations inasmuch as it represented the Holy Roman Empire of the Church. Austria invaded the northeast portion of the Italian peninsula (Venetia) and the key port city of Venice.

Venice is a famous town for centuries and port to the Adriatic Sea—the eastern waters of Italy and one connection to the Ottoman Empire.

South of Venetia on the peninsula ran papal states that crossed the peninsula from end to end and effectively divided Italy in three parts.

Key nations that evolved from this Treaty of 1815 included (beside papal states) the Kingdom of Sardinia in the northwest, the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchy of Modena, and the Kingdom of LombardyVenetia in the center and eastern portion north of the Vatican states. These states comprised the northern portion of the Italian peninsula. The central portion was ruled by the Papacy within its states.

The southern portion of Italy was called the two Sicilies. It included the southern peninsula and the Island of Sicily.

A military revolt in the Peninsular Sicily attempted to create constitutional territory for lower Italy. It failed, but was a harbinger for later attempts that aided the unification of the peninsula as one nation.

Various revolutions throughout the peninsula attempt to redefine the various states with constitutions. Numerous cultures existed, but the people all called themselves Italian; they wanted one territory with one leader.

Florence was the capital of the Italy, recognized by the various states (first Santore story).

Crimean War (second Santore story).

Giuseppe Garibaldi was general of the forces that liberated some Vatican states from the control of the Papacy. The capital was transferred to Rome in July 1871, after the successful last battle under General Cardorna for Rome and the unification of all territories in 1870 under King Vittorio Emanuel II.

The Constitution of the Roman Republic guaranteed religious freedom, the independence of the Catholic Church (its monarch the pope), and assigned within Rome an area for the Vatican, a separate kingdom.

The century of conflicts included backstabbing, secretly switched alliances, confusion as to which nation owned different states in the north, and the attempts of Two Sicilies to form a constitutional nation. However, all the people held one thing in common:

Who did you say that you are?

I’m not Milanese, nor Tuscan, Venetian, Lombardian, papal, or Sicilian. I am Italian!

The Vatican City State in Rome

It wasn’t until 1929 that the actual creation of the Vatican as a city state was completed. The wall surrounding Vatican City serves as an international boundary. During WWI, the German kaiser held a secret pact with Rome; when Germany won the war, it would restore all the papal states to its control. Germany lost, and the pact failed.

During WWII, Adolf Hitler, an Austrian, promised the same deal; a critique holds that Pius XII was mostly silent about the existence of the Holocaust because of this promise. The Italians fought on Hitler’s side as one of the Axis ( Japan was the other partner). Had Hitler won, the pope would have reconstituted the papal states, dividing Italy again.

The person responsible for the Vatican’s creation (1929) was Benito Mussolini. Nations of the world have gradually come to recognize the Vatican as a nation and send ambassadors there. The United States recognized the Vatican as a nation in 1984.

The Evolution of Rail Travel

The building of railroads across America was an activity tied in with the expansion of our states to become the nation from sea to shining sea. The technology was already in place for three decades on the continent. England enjoyed an early explosion of rail building. Germany led the race for rails.

By 1850, Milan was already a hub for Sardinia, France, Switzerland, Germany, and lines growing east. Wars could be waged long distance. The central issue of transportation of armies defines the level of success any military venture can hope to achieve.

We don’t think about it much in our high tech world where transportation via air and the Internet plus wireless international communication (a vital form of transportation) are assumed.

The explosion of the modern world began in Europe in the early nineteenth century with the race for rails. It played a part in the ability of characters in the story to move greater distances than would otherwise have been possible in my plotline. The combination of wagon, horse, ship (sail and steam), as well as rail are intermingled in the plot. The nineteenth century explosion of the telegraph followed throughout the middle years and beyond.

Nothing can be taken for granted; time becomes strategic in the flight of persons as well as the ability to track people. Identification papers have always been a critical element of travel in Europe and the East. One cannot move far without crossing a national border.

The Evolution of Culture

Cultures hold unique natures. Then they intermix; patterns of behavior change. Adapted versions of culture are recognized as how people in various states and countries express their lives in new ways. Rural semi isolated groups intermix with populations amassed within large cities, a phenomenon of the nineteenth century in Europe and America. Called the Industrial Revolution, it created massive changes in life patterns. Hanging on to cultural patterns becomes critical for those who try maintaining balance in an unbalanced environment.

All these elements create the background in which people act, interact, and react to the world in which they live. Our very laws that once seemed simple to understand and live by become more complex as our society becomes larger. Invention and innovation redefine cultures through technologies that change how we live.

It’s true: the one constant on this planet is change. Those who can’t adapt—disappear. Like the reed and the mighty oak in a hurricane, the reed bends while the oak breaks. Through it all, good and evil within mankind continue their march through time. That is a constant as well, not subject to change.

Eduardo’s Mortal Sin is one such story of good and evil in conflict, in a world turning in new directions.

The Matter of Meters

Europe used the metric system, originated by the French; the expressions of distance, height, etc., in the tale are in that form. General equivalents are listed below, compared to the English system we use.

A yard and 3+ inches (over 3’3") Thirteen meters = about 40 feet

One hundred part of a meter Twenty five centimeters = about 10"

One thousand meters Twenty five kilometers = about 1.5 miles

BOOK I

1

I Shall Want for Nothing

Florence, Italy

Spring of 1839

Precisely at 10:48 p.m.

The long, loud scream almost overpowered the sound of the large window bursting thirteen meters above the ground. The window, filled with crystal panes, plunged, along with the lady, to the low rock wall rising one meter above t he ground.

Numerous crystal shards arrived first, striking the broad surface of the wall and spraying in all directions. Then the lady hit, crosswise to the wall. Crystals drove into the body. One large piece, having arrived on end just ahead of the body, drove up through the back and bared its bloody tip out of the chest. Myriad other shards struck the body, already perished, and gashed the flesh in a dozen places.

The center of the body’s back was impaled on the wall while legs and head both snapped down on either side of the cold stone surface.

Earlier the same day, precisely at 1:48 p.m.

Did you invite my friend Martino to the party? Eduardo looked up hopefully into his mother’s face. I so want him to be here. Tonight was a time to party, to celebrate Eduardo’s seventh birthday.

I’m sorry, said his mother, Anna. Not this year. It’s a matter of convenience for your father. Remember the rule he has for each of you: one gift only, and a small one at that. He doesn’t believe children should have others partying here or anything costly or an expense that goes outside cake and punch. He tells me we must have enough funds to last us for many years. Don’t let it be known there’s more than one gift for you today.

Eduardo looked a bit surprised. You mean there’s two gifts for me tonight?

"Actually, Eduardo, there’s three. Your friend Martino has a gift for you. He didn’t think Father would invite him to your party, but he wanted you to have a gift he bought for you. It’s wonderful, and I know you will enjoy it so much.

So, yes, that makes three gifts. Keep it to yourself. It doesn’t do to get your father upset over things. Martino’s gift will be under your bed when you go to your room tonight. Until then, do not go upstairs to your room, capisce?

I understand, Mamma. Eduardo nodded solemnly. We’ll all have a grand party as a family. That’s what counts. But that counts only as gift two. What is gift three?

You know Marissa will bake you a chocolate cake, the one you like so much. Your father doesn’t want the servants to do more than they are paid to do. But Marissa will cook you your favorite dinner and a special cake. Then she whispered, It’s her birthday gift to you. That makes three gifts instead of just the one that your father says you ought to have.

The youngest son of the noted shipping magnate Salvatore Santore arrived as a curly headed boy they called Eduardo just seven years earlier. He was born into a family highly respected among peers and of superb means. His older brother Pasquale and two older sisters, Coretta and Maria, rejoiced that God had granted such balance to the family.

As a child, Eduardo Santore was unusual in many ways. His birth was breech; his infancy seemed to be spent largely in silence. He was more fascinated observing the world about him than prattling, as his two sisters and brother. As he toddled then walked, one sensed he was always headed deliberately and directly toward something he saw or wanted to explore. To label Eduardo, one might say he was an intensely focused child.

His mother, Anna, was powerless to stop their father’s abuse of children and wife ever since their first daughter was born. Anna did what a mother of those times and traditions could do to shield them; she placed herself in harm’s way—always. Society and the law were not on her side or that of women as a whole.

Mama, Eduardo asked her one day in his fifth year, why is father always so mad at us? His father often flew into rages without the least provocation. Careful attention to behavior was the children’s practice, and only modest enthusiasm was allowed.

Sweet child, she said while rubbing his curly hair, your father works very hard to bring us the life we have. He is very tired when he comes home and needs peace and quiet to restore his good nature. He loves you very much. Be kind to him.

Eduardo, lying on the floor near his mother’s desk, turned back to the big book with lots of drawings. He turned the page and read two of the small words he recognized under the large picture of a four masted sailing ship. His mother leaned over and read the other words to him. He repeated them until he was able to read the entire title. Eduardo nodded and sat down with a new book his mama brought him to read. He liked the drawings; though most words were new and often long, he could read a few. He learned many new words with each book. Pictures were the best part of a book.

Eduardo’s father, Salvatore, was a shipping magnate. He believed the rule of man over woman was absolute and not to be questioned—ever. He questioned everything but was never to be questioned about anything. If he could not explain, he lied. Everything he did and said was absolute. He presented himself as such to his family.

He also drank a great deal, during the day as well as during meals. He attributed his additional need for sips of absinthe during the day to manage the stress of running his shipping business that made him an incredibly wealthy man. He kept the treasure to himself, doling out meager funds to Anna for care of children and household. He hoarded everything that touched his life—except his family.

Mamma, Eduardo asked her one day, why does Father smell funny?

What do you mean, Eduardo?

His breath, it…it doesn’t smell nice, like yours. Why is that?

He takes medicines to help him not be too tired. He says it helps him think so he can do a good job.

Tonight, hopefully, on this, his seventh birthday, there would be joy in the house as the youngest child turned of an age for full schooling. He would no longer be regarded as an infant son.

Soon enough, the family was seated at the dining table for dinner. The air was filled with expectation and the mood festive though carefully subdued.

I see, said Salvatore as he sat at the head of the table, directing his remarks to the servant entering with a tureen of soup, you have managed to bring dinner to the table on time. How many times this year has that been the case? This was the extent of the graciousness of any comment he might aim at the help. He looked for no answer to the question, merely recognition of what were the expected standards in the household.

Though it was a festive occasion with modest decorations and flowers on the massive dining table, any conversation was to be a reflection of what he might direct toward various members of the family around the table.

I noticed, Anna, you have trouble remembering that in this family, but one gift is the rule for such folderol as this must be for any of our children. Now they all will expect more, a violation of my rule. He raised his wineglass and emptied it. Setting it down, it was immediately filled by the servant who lifted the bottle from the sideboard and saw to keeping his glass filled at all times.

Dear husband, she responded softly, there is here but one gift for Eduardo. The decorations are what we always provide our children for their birthday festivities. That certainly does not constitute a gift. I know you are happy to recognize that Eduardo has now reached the age where he will be enjoying full schooling. We are now officially devoid of infants. She maintained a smile, picked up a small ladle from the gravy dish, and added a small portion to her plate.

After dinner, most of which was consumed in silence, Salvatore nodded at Eduardo and said curtly, Now, open your gift, and let us be done with it. Birthdays are meaningless drivel for fools. Glaring at Anna, he added, I just can’t understand wasting money on those silly decorations you have on the table this evening.

Eduardo opened the package, which contained paper, writing tools, a bottle of ink, and a notebook, all elements suited to being carried to school for his first full term. His sisters and brother all commented briefly and not too noisily about how much Eduardo will find the items of the gift handy when he started school soon.

Then it was time for la torta di cioccolatini, the special chocolate cake Eduardo liked so much. Plates were set next to the cake while the cook carefully cut the slices for each of the children and added a dollop of whipped cream as a topping.

I don’t care for any right now, said Salvatore, rising from the table. Just bring a slice to my office after I finish speaking with my wife. Anna, I’ll need to see you in my office after the children leave the table in no more than five minutes.

He moved rapidly from the room to his office. The children took the cue that they should eat rapidly and leave the table.

After Anna entered his office one minute later, he began berating her. He rose from his desk, walked an already besotted body around to where Anna stood, and raised his voice in her face. "Do you think I don’t know you’ve hidden another gift under il porco’s bed? Wasting more money? Because you like him best? Because you want to betray our agreement?"

Anna had no chance to respond that the gift was from Eduardo’s friend. He delivered a roundhouse slap to her face, heard both by staff and children. Don’t try to fool me, you liar. You make up stories that fool no one. I don’t need to hear it. Another slap. Now get out of here. I have work to do. He rounded the desk and sat down. He raised an almost full glass of wine and downed it in one gulp. He set it down and refilled it from one of two open bottles of wine sitting on the desk. His absinth glass was full with the small flagon next to it, one quarter full. His friends always said he prided himself on being able to hold his liquor.

Anna sought to hide the mark on the side of her face from her children as she returned later to the study where they were gathered, doing their homework or reading. It was bedtime, and it was her task, as Salvatore put it years ago, to direct them upstairs to their separate bedrooms.

It was two hours later that the children in their beds heard Salvatore and Anna climbing the stairs, headed to their spacious bedroom.

Father was cursing and berating their mother from the bottom of the stairs up into their bedroom. He assumed the children were asleep. The children never went to sleep before hearing a prolonged silence from their parents’ bedroom. Tonight they heard, from the nearby bedrooms, the yelling, slapping, and occasional punches he delivered to their mother’s body. It seemed to stop momentarily.

They felt more than heard the fisted blow he next delivered to Anna’s head. They heard stumbling, a scream, and the sound of shattering glass. The silence that followed seemed forever.

Footsteps began slowly, then quickly escalated into running down the stairs. The front door was flung open wildly. Then followed a stream of cursing that didn’t stop as the children opened their doors and ventured down the broad stairway toward the front door.

Coretta, Eduardo’s sister, the eldest at thirteen, led the way. Peeking out the front door, she let out an ear splitting scream, turned, and pushed her sister and brothers back deep into the great foyer. Don’t look! she yelled. Don’t look! Again and again.

On the low rocky wall a few feet from the house lay Mamma on her back, grotesquely wrapped around the wall as if her back had been divided into three parts to cover the three sides. Blood ran from wounds mirrored in the crystal glass shards that protruded from her twisted body.

The children were herded by two of the servants up to their rooms and told to be silent and go to bed. All would be better in the morning, and their parents would explain everything at breakfast.

The children, seated alone at the dining table in the morning for breakfast, only overheard mumbled conversations. There was no mother, no father. The only person entering the room was Marissa; she did so from the kitchen to bring them their food and juices for their morning meal, as if there had been no last night. Eduardo noted that her eyes were very red and ringed with moisture.

The rumors from the household servants of the untimely death of Signora Santore and subsequent events flowed quickly from house to house. The servants heard an hour after the event from the police. The children’s father, having fled on his horse, was quickly apprehended; he seemed to be just riding in circles around the east end of Florence.

Word was that he was confused about what happened and kept asking for his wife. He was currently being held in the city’s central jail, awaiting a hearing by a judge.

Coretta, seated in the middle of the group at the dining table, began speaking to her siblings. She couldn’t stop the slow but steady stream of tears working their way down her cheeks.

Mamma fell from the bedroom window upstairs and landed on the stone wall. Nobody will say anything, but I know she’s not alive anymore. She paused, gasping, trying to catch her breath to continue. "That’s why I didn’t want you to look. I don’t know where Father is or what’s to become of this. I think we’ll find out more from our dear aunt. Zia Gabriela who is coming here, she said. I’m as scared as you are. I think it’s Father’s fault she fell."

It’s not! yelled Pasquale, Eduardo’s eleven year old brother. He jumped up from his seat, leaning over the table. His venom was aimed directly at Coretta. Mamma just fell out the window. She’s always falling, he added in his father’s defense. Don’t you ever say anything against Father! I’m telling him what you said! He defiantly nod ded, pointing at Coretta. It’s her fault ’cause she’s a stupid woman. He concluded his tirade just as Gabriela entered the room.

I will hear no more outbursts of any kind from any of you, she stated with a firm voice while wagging her finger at the children generally and Pasquale more specifically. This is a terrible thing that has happened. You must stay strong with each other. That is the way you will honor your mother. When we hear from your father, you will honor what he has to say to you. Am I clear?

Her voice covered the high walls and ceiling of the dining room and gave the children their first experience of joint focused attention since Coretta’s scream last night. Gabriela moved to the end of the table and stood silent for a moment. When next she spoke, it was with a gentle voice, directing them to finish their food.

"You will be joining me in my home until this matter is settled with my brother. I am as saddened as you children because she has been my beloved sister in law. My brother is weighted with grief. He is currently explaining the tragedy to officials at the court. When he is finished, he will meet with you.

You will need all your strength soon enough. I will aid you in preparing a fitting written expression of your love for your mother. It will be read at the Mass for her soul later this week. A pause, then she added, Now please finish your breakfast. Eat all you can. God bless the food to strengthen you all. Amen.

With that, she turned and spoke to the nearest household servant, asking her to begin packing the children’s clothes for at least a two week duration. When done, it was to be delivered to her home.Depending on the hearing this morning, you should expect Signore Santore to return here to direct the affairs necessary to maintain the household.

Early morning is the best time to go to court, if you absolutely have to be there. By ten o’clock, the heat begins to compress all the stale body odors into every centimeter of breathable space available in the high vaulted but small courtroom. Its size doesn’t reach that of the larger receiving rooms or atriums in any estate of the wealthier families of Florence.

At eight o’clock, Judge Vecciocini called his sergeant of the court over to his desk. Please be so good as to bring me the docket of cases for the morning.

The sergeant nodded, opened a file case he held, and drew out the list. Here’s our list for Monday morning. Not too bad for the wild weekend we just had in Florence.

Judge Vecciocini looked at the list of cases to be adjudicated, in this case a longer list because of the weekend, but as Sergeant Alighieri noted, it wasn’t much longer than a weekday list. Often, weekends left a massive load to be handled on Monday mornings. He always checked out his bedroom window on Sunday night what the weather outlook most likely would be for Mondays, praying that the day would be cool and breezy.

The list had numbers by some names. Always just a few, these were more prominent citizens needing to come before the court. They were handled in the early morning as a matter of courtesy. The judge reflected, If they had to endure the afternoons here, they might well make certain we erected a new court building with larger and more airy rooms.

Judge Vecciocini’s attention was drawn to a numbered name near the bottom of the list. That signified that a matter came to the attention of the court in the latter part of the evening. The name Santore raised one eyebrow, the description of the need to appear his other: arrested in the death of Anna, wife.

He turned to the sergeant at arms of the court. Sergeant Alighieri, call as first case Signore Salvatore Santore.

The officer indicated Santore was to be brought into the courtroom from the holding area, a four meter by fourteen meter wire pen extending out the back of the building with a wooden roof attached to three poles driven into the ground every six meters. The wire was attached to the poles to create the pen. Benches lined each side of the enclosure. In the winter, persons coming in from the pen tended to be cold and soaking wet.

It was a balmy morning; Santore was dry entering the courtroom. Facing Judge Vecciocini’s desk, which rested on a one half meter platform, the difference of the sitting judge and the plaintiff or accused resulted in eye to eye contact. Judge Vecciocini first looked at Santore then down at the paper; he stared at it for over a minute.

Looking up at the man before him in wrist chains, he said, Signore Santore, the charge reads that you were arrested after fleeing the scene of your wife’s death, a fall from an upper room in your home. Can you explain this to the court?

Salvatore’s voice croaked a bit as he replied, Your Honor, it is all a mistake. Being treated like a common criminal might ordinarily outrage me. I understand how it appears. But this is a tragedy of unimaginable proportion. Adjusting his stance to look more like one addressing a friend and confidant, he continued.

"After retiring last evening, my dear wife was not feeling well. She had worked hard preparing and executing a large birthday party for our son Eduardo, who turned seven. She was tired and, having drunk a bit too much wine, appeared to be moving toward her side of the bed.

But she didn’t turn. She walked a couple of steps, tripped on her shoes, and pitched headlong out the window. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I rushed downstairs to see how badly she hurt herself. When I went out the front door, she was lying across a low stone wall with glass sticking out…uh, uh… Santore started to shake and weep.

Judge Vecciocini indicated to the sergeant to bring Santore a glass of water and support him.

Continuing, Santore shuddered. "The sight of her, caramia, broken on the wall, bathed in blood and glass, overwhelmed me. I fled in horror. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my horse, and an officer was holding the reins of my horse." His shoulders shook as he wiped some tears from his eyes while taking a sip of water and spilling most of it on his clothes.

Judge Vecciocini nodded, acknowledging he understood the story Santore had told him. It sounded a lot like the stories other men told about the injuries or deaths of their wives and lovers. Santore’s violence was not unknown but was generally found to exercise itself when he had ingested a large amount of wine or harder spirits.

You say, Judge Vecciocini addressed the defendant eye to eye, this fall out the window was the result of her having drunk too much wine. How much wine or spirits had you shared with your wife at the party?

But a small glass of sherry, Your Honor. Salvatore shrugged, raising his hands palms up. I was aware she would, as she did often, drink more wine than was prudent or reasonable for an evening. I wanted to be clear of head to assist at the party if needed and to help her if she became incapacitated. I—

Judge Vecciocini raised his hand and said, It is your contention that your wife imbibed too much wine and that you drank but a little so you might be of service to her. In your bedroom, you say, she tripped over some shoes and fell through the window. Is that correct?

It is exactly as you say, Your Honor. Her body flung itself right through the window. Horrible!

Tapping the fingers of his left hand on the desk in a rolling motion, the judge paused, looked again at the paper on his bench, and then asked while still tapping, Do you have anyone at this hearing that can serve as witness to the evening’s event and your wife’s condition?

Judge Vecciocini watched as Santore raised his bound arms. My servants, of course, were there for the whole evening. I was being held here, so I could not bring them along to testify to the matter. I will be happy to have my valet report all this to you…in writing. Would that be sufficient to demonstrate that I am the victim here and my wife the one who cast herself out the window? Your Honor?

If a written report by a servant supports your claim, Signore Santore, no charges will be filed on the unfortunate death of your wife. I know you are grieving, Signore. Can you secure such a report by tomorrow morning? Judge Vecciocini uttered stiffly.

I can. Yes, I can. Santore nodded vigorously. Then he added, I have been a burden to you and the court, Your Honor. I will send appropriate recompense for all the time I took in your court over this matter of accidental death.

Judge Vecciocini nodded to the sergeant. See that Signore Santore’s personal belongings are returned to him. Turning to Salvatore, he said, You are free to go tend to your family. I expect the report—and recompense—on my desk by tomorrow morning. Next case.

Salvatore retrieved his horse from the court stables and rode home quickly. After he entered the door, he went directly to his office, sat at his desk, and began writing vigorously on a piece of paper. After he had written three sheets, he rose, went to the door, and called his valet to his office.

Benito, he said as he reclaimed the chair behind his desk, I need you to copy this document in your handwriting and sign it as I have indicated at the end of the message. It is a report to the court on the events of last night. It may seem odd to you in places, but it is what the court deems necessary for the report to be official. After you are finished, call me, and I will seal it with the family crest. Then I want you to take it to the court and hand it to the sergeant at the court along with this valise. He will know what to do with it. Are we clear on the matter?

Benito nodded while replying, Signore, si, Signore.

Because you are reporting a legal matter, Santore indicated quietly, I will provide you with a month’s salary as recompense for the work you are doing here beyond what is part of your position’s description. You are, of course, to say nothing to anyone about the work, the extra service, and pay. Am I clear on this matter?

Benito nodded again while replying, Signore, si, Signore.

It became apparent after he began copying the document in his handwriting that what he was reporting was not what he witnessed last night. His loyalty, however, lay with the household; to do other than directed was never an option, not if he were ever to work again at any job where obedience and loyalty were expected.

Benito did as he was told. An hour later, the sergeant of the court received the report and a valise to be handed directly to the judge. It satisfied the court. The extra pay eased Benito’s family burdens a bit.

It would never ease Benito’s conscience.

The children were just finished with dinner when Zia Gabriela entered the room and informed them Salvatore had arrived and would meet with them in the library. "Your father is quite distraught over what happened last night. Do not ask questions or seek more than what he is planning to share with you. It will be difficult for him to speak of this. You respect your father by remaining silent, capisce? Good."

Without another word, she motioned for the children to follow her to the library. They saw their father seated behind the large desk. Surrounding him were the strong colors pushed by the sun through stained glass windows.

The sisters, walking ahead of their brothers, took the farther seats at one end of the desk. The boys seated themselves next to the girls. Looking at their father, they could see he appeared distressed and sorrowful; he also carried the aroma of wine and a faint scent of distilled spirits.

It is… he began, leaning forward over the immense desk. It separated him effectively from his children, who were almost buried in the cushioned chairs on the far side; It is, he repeated, a terribly sad thing I report to you. Your mother did not survive the injuries she inflicted on herself after falling out our bedroom window. He hesitated, took a sip from the water glass next to him on the desk, and continued.

It is sad for all of us. As I constantly remind you, paying attention to what you are doing and what is around you is important for your safety. Your mother, bless her soul, did not maintain this basic maxim and… His voice, showing hesitancy, continued with, "Her overindulgence in wine resulted in her tripping over a shoe she carelessly left on the floor. She fell against the window. It collapsed. She fell to the ground. Tragically, she deserted you in your youth through her negligence.

"This is Tuesday. Arrangements are being made for a Mass of Forgiveness to be said on Wednesday afternoon. The priest has assured me her stay in purgatory will be brief because of her gentle spirit in raising her children. She has already been forgiven her overindulgence that caused her to break the window and fall.

You will stay with my sister until arrangements can be made for your care. She is very generous in offering her home to you for the next two weeks. You will be freed from studies on Wednesday. Try to show some small measure of respect for your mother. After all, most people make mistakes from time to time that hurt everyone. That is all I have to say about the matter.

With that, he rose and left the room.

For the children, the funeral Mass seemed to take forever. The priest assured them that God would take Anna’s regular attendance at Mass and Confession into account; her gifts to the Church will be measured toward her merits. God’s might is counted on to forgive her lack of self control that caused her to fall to her death.

The Church’s prayers can be supported with gifts that will assuredly shorten her stay in purgatory and assure her an early reception in heaven. The ongoing generosity of those in attendance shows God how much each one honors Anna.

Then they were standing outside in the warmer air under cloudy skies that promised rain by late evening. Gabriela joined them and herded them with a tender arm toward the carriages that would take them to her estate. They would not suffer through the burial and the reception at Salvatore’s home. Their father was to join them for a few moments in the evening.

After returning to their aunt’s home, the children were brought to her kitchen featuring that large table they knew so well. Whenever they visited, it was to enjoy pastries and dinners that featured favorite foods for children.

Today, the cook brought out a variety of foods to hopefully stir their appetites. Gabriela joined them and placed various food items on her plate, encouraging them to try a variety of foods. Some of these are new, take but the smallest portion. If you like it, come back to the side board for more.

They sat at the table scattered, but not so much as to seem separated from one another or Gabriela. She waited until they began nibbling at their food then began. "I need to share some thoughts with all of you. I can never imagine that what happened to your mother was any fault of hers. Nor can I ever imagine that I can take her place in your hearts. I want you all to know how dearly I love you and how much you have meant to me ever since you came into this world. I could not have loved children I might have borne more than I love you.

"You know, I secretly pretended my sister in law’s children—all four of you—were mine to love and to rear. If I have seemed to visit your home often and have been part of the excursions Anna—uh, your mother planned for you, it was because she was so generous sharing you all with me. She knew my heart.

The only way I can honor your mother is to continue being as close to you as she allowed me…to be a second mother in a way. What I say is this. Umm, what you seek to learn or know or share, be it good or painful, a joy or, God forbid, sorrow—whatever your mind or heart wants to share, you can come to me. I will listen and share as you desire. You can count on me for the rest of my life. I will never leave you.

They had stopped eating when she began speaking. They knew her as their dearest friend after their mother. Now they knew why. It was surprising but of great comfort. She raised her hand once more, signaling a desire to speak. If there is anything you want to ask me now or share together, please do so with my blessing.

The children looked at each other then back at Gabriela. Coretta slowly raised her arm. Gabriela looked at her and said, Coretta, you—all of you—need not ask permission to speak with me. Simply speak, as you would with your mother.

Coretta took her arm down slowly while starting to speak. We could hear them fighting from our bedrooms. Father was scream—

At that point, Pasquale jumped out of his chair, yelling, It wasn’t Father’s fault! It was Mamma, and she is so stupid and tripped and fell out the window. Father said so. Coretta’s a liar! By this time, Pasquale’s face was crimson, and he was spitting as he was yelling. Father’s not a drunk! It’s Mama, she’s the one! Now tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was shaking where he stood.

Gabriela walked over to him and gathered the eleven year old into her arms, hugged him, and spoke soothingly to him. I know, I know. Your father did not wish harm to your mamma. He loved her. And you love her. I understand you wish only well for your father. I know, I know. She repeated the last phrase in a soft mantra.

While holding Pasquale close to her, she turned toward Coretta, nodded, and said, I know, I know to the child, eye to eye.

Coretta’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she sat down. Still looking at her, Zia Gabriela almost whispered, You and I will meet later. Then a bit louder and firmer, she added for the children while patting Pasquale on the back of his head, "We’ll find lots of time to chat with one another about your joys and sorrows, together as well as alone. Today we honor your mother’s passing to God and show respect for your father.

It’s time to finish your dinner. After you finish, please bring your plate and glass to the sink. You will be of great help to the cook, who has to clear the table. It will tell her how much you enjoyed your food. Thank you. With that, she patted Pasquale on his shoulder and released him to his chair.

Eduardo noticed how much calmer his brother seemed to be and how much natural color had returned to his face. Coretta’s observation about his father’s demeanor both last night and in the library earlier suggested to him what was bothering Coretta and was identical to his sifting through the yelling that night and the sounds that emanated from his parents’ bedroom. He began drawing conclusions about the sounds and the words he could hear.

It left him with great sorrow for his mother and a growing suspicion about what he could and could not conclude about his father’s behavior in the past couple of days. He felt shame. Had he run to their room, had he turned his father’s anger on him… Even at seven (and three days), he was observing what would slowly form in his mind and become buried. In its place, a burning shame and passion rose. It would form his future.

Eduardo also noticed that his father never showed up at his sister’s home that evening as he promised at the church.

He joined his siblings gathering plate, glass, and utensils and moved to the sink. He walked slowly in the despair of spirit that surrounds mind and emotion at the loss of a mother. As he exited the kitchen, he discovered a tender hidden thought emerging through the agony, much like the flower that finds light and breeze between two rocks.

He came this week to experience a deep love and respect for his sister Coretta.

The stay at Gabriela’s residence had now extended far beyond the original two weeks. By the end of six weeks, Eduardo found that all his belongings had been moved into his room at the estate. The widow Gabriela Cicognani was kept busy trying to run her home with four children now occupying the premises. It was more work than she expected, even with servants to help.

The children returned to school. Expenses were outstripping the estate’s ability to maintain itself without the income of the head of the house. She appealed to Salvatore.

In his study, she began her mission to have the father of these children provide basic support needed for their future. "You know, brother, these are your children. I have agreed to have a long term hand in rearing them. My husband’s remaining estate cannot handle raising the children as well as seeing to my long term needs.

Actually, you have the prime responsibility raising the children. All I ask in caring for them are the normal expenses one expects caring for children. She waited for his question of how much; it did not appear.

Gabriela, he began while moving around his desk to the large chair behind it, "the children are yours. Do with them as you wish. You are their zia. I can’t be bothered raising them. It takes a woman. That’s what your role is in the matter. I will not invest in their future. It is theirs to make as you or they see fit. My life is taken up with matters you can’t understand and are not worth my investing words or time trying to explain.

Let’s just say this letter—at that point he lifted from his desk an envelope and tossed it to her side of the desk, waving as a command to pick it up—"I say, this letter releases all interest I have in the children to you, Gabriela. My commitments, as I said, don’t provide for time to raise children. Their mother failed at that by stumbling through a window. She should have shown more care for them than she evidenced tripping over her shoe as she did.

I will not take up a burden she neglected to maintain throughout their childhood. It’s important to care for the funds your husband left you with his untimely death. Don’t be coming to me if you fail to manage them.

With that, he rose, bade her farewell, and motioned for his valet to show her to the door. She left, knowing some how she would never see her brother again, whether due to her unwillingness to ever desire to see him or his motivation generated by a heartless behavior.

Eduardo was now the age his sister was when his mother died. He turned thirteen just two months before; the beginning of young adulthood felt strange to the young man. He had almost finished his second level of education and was looking forward to more advanced learning.

He liked to poke around and find out about things. Coretta called him the spy; schoolmates knew he had a broad storehouse of information from the variety of subjects he could comment on at school. He was quiet and studious. He became proficient at examining, deducing, and inferring answers to the puzzles of the world around him and the people with whom he interacted.

He was particularly aware of the growing tension in his aunt whom he loved to think of as Blessed Zia Gabriela. So on a quiet drizzling afternoon after school, he approached her at her desk where she often was found. She looked up at him as he neared; he sat in the chair next to the desk at her signaled invitation and gentle smile.

How are you, Eduardo? Are your studies going as well as I can imagine they are?

It was an invitation for him to share his thoughts. He took it. "Zia. I think you are worried about something. I see it in your eyes. I think it’s about money. My father has not given you money to raise us, I know. Yet you manage to make our lives so fine. It must cost you a great deal. I can tell it is hard for you. I have a solution that can help. I don’t want you to run out of money raising us, then having to live in some small place in the center of town."

Gabriela smiled and raised a finger. Eduardo. You are a very, very smart young man, but I assure you, everyone will be just fine. I have a lot of support, and we are getting along just fine.

For Eduardo, the signs were more than clear. He saw her slight frown, her somewhat wandering gaze. He heard her use the same words too often; that was a sure clue that what was fine was really not fine at all.

I still want to help, he repeated.

How so, my dear Eduardo? she countered.

I want to go to Rome. Well, at least near Rome. There is a school there at a Jesuit community. You know the Jesuits are best at teaching everything. As long as I work as they need me and become part of their Order, it will cost me nothing. I will get the best education to prepare me for university if I wish. I will be part of the respected Jesuit Order, and you will have a lighter burden.

His aunt was stunned. Here was a young lad who had mapped out a whole life plan. She saw it as a means for him to ease the massive burden she really carried. Coretta was already working for a tailor, learning to become a seamstress and earning enough to relieve a bit of the burden Gabriela was carrying.

Pasquale and Maria were her greatest burdens at the moment with Eduardo fast coming into the arena of becoming a much greater burden growing into his teens, along with all the demands that followed their needs. And here he was, trying to lift that last burden from her shoulder. "You know I can’t see you doing this, Eduardo. Frankly, of all you youngsters—she did a quick scan to make sure no one was listening nearby—I think of you as the brightest. I need to give you the path to our university here in Florence. The cost is no matter to me. The four of you are most important to my life. Please. I thank you. But it is not necessary. Was there a reason to choose a school near Rome instead of one of the fine ones in Florence? Did you want to leave us?

No, no…no, Eduardo stammered. "I wanted to make sure there would be no cost to you, especially if I went farther away on my own. I don’t want to cost you anything more, Zia." Tears welled up in his eyes.

Now she was showing tears. She didn’t know what to say to him. Look at me, Eduardo. I am for whatever you want to do to further your desires for your life, do you understand? Without waiting for any response, she continued, "I don’t want you to do anything that will interfere with your own dreams. So tell me the truth. Would going into the Order for your education and future agree with your desires? Do not answer me without first making sure the answer reflects your desires.

"It would not do for you to make a decision at this point in your life because you see only what you imagine my problems to be. It is not I who counts in your decisions about life. You must plan on what will be best for you, not for me. Now. Take some time to think, and tell me tomorrow what will work best for you. Go play or study or walk. I am frankly quite busy here at the moment. Thank you."

She was supposed to turn back to her work to confirm what she just said but could not take her eyes off the face of this beloved child. To Eduardo, her gaze confirmed for him the path he wanted to take and the way that path would wind.

He left seven months and two days later after finishing his studies. He entered the school in Florence. He was actually too young to study with the Jesuits. A local Dominican school assured Gabriela he would fit in with his intellect into advanced studies. They envisioned him to become a model servant of the Church by the time he finished his studies.

He was introduced into the Order under the name Brother Eduardo. He proved more than capable at all subjects. His abilities in the sciences were applauded; his skill with numbers and accounting was deemed remarkable, both in analysis and organization of new and creative formats.

He had chosen his future and walked boldly into it.

2

He Leads Me to Green Pastures

Florence, Italy

Spring of 1836

Alicia was born into the world with a smile on her face. Both her mother and the midwife were somewhat taken by surprise that the child did not cry but opened her eyes and smiled. Look! shouted her mother, Luisa Nicola Migliaccio Andreini, at the midwife as Alicia appeared. Look how big her feet are. She will be so v ery tall.

Her father, Gian Gaetano Andreini, chimed in two days later as he was aiding Luisa in putting the baby’s shoes on her feet, This is a pair of shoes we received as a gift for when she would be at least four months old! Gesu bambino! He has given us a child already grown!

Luisa laughed and then reminded Gian to mind his language. It would not do to bring bad luck to such a beautiful child by mentioning the Holy Family in a less than devoted manner.

I thought her hair would be red, her father noted after three months. It looked that way when I first saw her. But it’s turned to deep black.

Luisa smiled. I noticed that it also contrasts beautifully with her bold blue eyes. These parents knew that baby Alicia was a truly beautiful newborn. They did not realize the half of it.

Alicia’s parents, Gian of the Andreini family line and Luisa Nicola of the heritage of Migliaccio, did not realize it would soon enough be Alicia who would bring them learning and understandings they should have been giving her. Their lanterns glowed dimly. The fact was that Luisa Nicola only cared for child and humble home while Gian worked happily as liveryman and caretaker of horses.

It was clear this child did not hold her parents’ limited minds and perception of the world around them; an ancestor’s fine mind somehow skipped a few generations to reroot itself in this lively girl. Knowledge, however, does not reign over tradition nor supplant superstitions in the real world.

It was Alicia who would bring them the light of understanding of the world; she would share the essentials of education in basics of language, mathematics, and science as much as possible to their rather simple and provincial minds. Unfortunately, it seldom bodes well for offspring. Alicia’s desire to become what she wanted was thwarted by her parents’ will, ignorance, and cultural and religious inclinations.

Her parents directed her life. They relied on societal practices and religious rules to guide her. It made Alicia’s life difficult, partly because it limited her ability to broaden her understanding, develop her talents, and fulfill her dreams. Remember, her father would often say, "women mend, and men mind. That’s how the world has been since God took a rib and made Adam a helpmeet. The Bible is always right. Take care of your home. God gave men the brains to see how it all works."

Her parents largely ignored her interests. As her mamma said so often to her as she was growing up, My child, it is well and good to be excited about life. But if you are to have a life of greatness and plenty, it will do you well to learn the necessities of homemaking and leave the rest of the world to men to solve the other matters. They are, after all, are better suited to solve problems.

Alicia had to look elsewhere to satisfy her deep thirst for knowledge, especially in the culinary arts where she loved to experiment. Her cousin, Raimundo Andreini, was her major source to help satisfy her avid curiosity of the world around her. It also made her talent for cooking bloom by the time she was twelve. She learned of science, mathematics, the arts, and the expansion of the world in the early nineteenth century mostly through this cousin and dear friend. She touched other lands, cultures, and histories.

Rai became what he called himself a research expert on her behalf. He brought her books to read. She discovered recipes from parents of her friends. Rai found additional recipes through parents of his friends. As she made the dishes, he became her taste tester. He came to expect the excitement of different tastes reflecting the places and cultures they represented.

Ciao! was the familiar voice Alicia heard behind her as she walked out of the library after studying for her tests at the end of the week. Raimundo, known to his friends and family as Rai, had a habit of sneaking up on a person and suddenly shouting out loud to get their startled attention. The familiarity of his voice put this craziness to rest for Alicia; the element of being startled disappeared a long time ago.

She turned, smiled, and replied, Ciao to you too, Rai! Do you have any new books or recipes for me today? I’m looking for something new to try out.

Rai’s nod made her giggle, and she thrust out her hand to fetch the discovery from his hand.

"Just a minute. I found a couple of really different ones, but I don’t know if you