Читать книгу: «Ties», страница 2

Four

Guglielmo kept on reading that tiny book. After a good search, he also managed to retrieve the cover, which gave out the title and the author of the book. Those pages were already providing him with some answers to quite a few questions. It was written by some guy called Mr Duby, and was entitled “The year 1000”.

He borrowed that tiny book from the library, under the inquisitive eye of the librarian, in order to take it home and read what was left in peace and quiet.

It was late at night and he was lying on his bed, his book resting on his chest, he was greedily taking in all the words written on those thin pages, looking for some new information.

[…] of the feudal period, there is just one chronicle left which depicts the year 1000 as a tragic year: the one written by Sigerbert of Gembloux. There were in those days many prodigies, a horrific earthquake, a comet with a blazing tail; the bright and intense light brightened up even the inside of the houses, and in the sky, that seemed to cleave, it traced the image of a snake […] Many people thought it was the anticipation of the last day.

[…] in the Annals of Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire an important announcement about the year 1003, pointed out an unusual flooding, a mirage, the birth of a monster who was drowned by the parents; but the place of the thousandth year of the incarnation is empty.

Further ahead in the book, he came across a reference, just a few lines, which drew his attention. Saint Abbon, abbot of Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire Abbey left a record of one of his memories from his youth:

[…] about the end of the world, I hear someone preaching in a church in Paris about the Antichrist coming at the end of the year 1000 and that the final judgement would come shortly after.

While reading those words, his mind wondered off to a previous event that happened going back a few years.

In 1997 comet Hale-Bopp could be seen at the same time of the spring equinox. Something strange happened while she was shining in the sky: roughly thirty cult members of a religious sect from southern California, computer experts, committed mass suicide in the belief that they would have hitched a ride on an alien’s spaceship travelling in the wake of a passing comet, and be whisked to the “next level”. In a footage that they made while committing suicide, they felt they were the chosen ones, lucky people who were being freed from weaknesses and meanness related to the human condition.

During the same year a number of disastrous events had hit poor souls all over the world: earthquakes, strong winds, torrential rain, tornadoes. It seemed that history repeated itself.

He had just photocopied some pages from another book written by Jules Michelet about the oppressed waiting for the end of the world to free them from sufferings tormenting them:

The prisoner was waiting in the black fortified tower, in the sepulchral cell; the serf was waiting on his furrow, in the shade of the despised tower; the monk was waiting, among the abstinences inflicted by cloistered life, solitary inner turmoil, among temptations and falls, remorses and strange visions, despicable devil’s decoy who was cruelly goofing around him, and pulling his cover at night time, was gaily saying into his ear “You are doomed!” All of them wished to put an end to their dreadful living condition, it did not matter at what price. However, it should be quite charming to see the moment when the trumpet would blast into the tyrants’ ear. Then, from the fortified tower, from the cloister and from the furrow, a terrible laughter would burst amid the sobbing.

In order to demystify mass suicide, scholars in the 90s engaged themselves to convince people that the spot in the tail of the comet was just a star and that the cult members had been brainwashed with all the lies told by their leader. However, the press kept on publishing articles with sensational and allusive headlines.

Was the end of the world really so close?

Would the terrors of a new medieval period spread all over mankind in a few years’ time?

Guglielmo’s mind was racing. He was matching theories, comparing events, combining events. He thought that at the dawn of the year 2000 it would have been much easier to spread panic and turn it into an obsessive psychosis.

After all, in 999AD, a persuasive voice, a public square or a pulpit in a church and a big crowd, hadn’t all this been enough to spread the universal belief that the world was about to end?

Five

New Year’s Eve, 1999

The lights that night seemed to be brightening up a bottomless leaden sky and the misty air seemed to be translucent.

They were the last few hours of an agonising millennium, glimmering lights in the darkness of the eternal sleep. Guglielmo was in his room. He had his Count Dracula’s costume on. He was the lord of the night, consisting of a black tailcoat and cloak, the shirt was as white as the skin of his face, covered in greasepaint, which highlighted two big black circles under his eyes. Beyond his lips there were a pair of sharp and shiny canine teeth .

The boy was standing in front of a big oil canvas which had been hanging on the wall, above the fireplace, for over a century. A man with slender legs, inside a pair of riding boots, a leather riding crop, shiny military braidings on his shoulder pads, was posing with some haughtiness staring at whoever was passing by. He was one of his distinguished family ancestors on his father’s side, and of course he was a high-ranking cavalry officer. Like it would happen a million times when looking at that painting, Guglielmo had the impression that the members of his family had always worn military uniforms and ruled over legions of soldiers.

He went a few steps backwards and caught the image of his face in the nearby mirror.

For one night only he would have been the lord of the darkness, who fed on other people’s lives, sucking the life out of the necks of his unaware victims. That masquerade amused him: he would have opened his big black cloak and would have screamed farewell to the century that in a few hours would have disappeared forever.

Gemma was waiting for him at her house.

His father was at home, standing at the bottom of the stairs in the spacious hall, wearing a glossy satin nightgown tied up around his lean body, holding the paper in his hands.

«Guglielmo, you have made your decision then not to come to the armed officers club to celebrate with your mother and me the transition to the year 2000? You know, right, how important it is for the family… after all it is your twentieth birthday today too… family is a holy institution we ought to show respect for…»

Filiberto did not look at his son straight in his eyes, he would look away from him, and that would annoy Guglielmo incredibly. Why would his father not even try at least for once to understand him? Why would he only be interested in his armed officers club, his recruits and those damned stars?

«Dad you do know that I am very happy to celebrate it with my friends, also how would I look at the armed officers club dressed as Count Dracula?» the young man said opening up his black cloak gently in the attempt to defuse the situation.

«You would certainly look ridiculous, but young people love this nonsense. If you were to hold a rifle, your legs would be shaking… I know what I would do with all of you…»

«Darling, please, let’s not spoil this beautiful celebration, let’s wish happy birthday to our beloved Guglielmo, he is a man now…»

Angelica got into the conversation with her sweet voice just at the right time, before one of the two men would get into an argument. It was getting more and more difficult for her to keep those two troublemakers under control. She was holding a little blue package with a sky blue ribbon, everyone in the room was looking at her.

«Son, this is for you, I waited for twenty years to give it to you, twenty long years…»

Guglielmo took the package off her mother’s hands, looking very mysterious, and unwrapped it. A round white and transparent charm, made of alabaster,… a little black string, tightly twisted into a rope, was holding onto the piece of jewellery and was wrapped around a tiny booklet with a worn-out leather cover…. A strange present indeed…

«I haven’t gone mental, no Guglielmo your mother has not lost her head. It is a long, very long story. Come here, sit with me on your favourite sofa».

With his left hand holding his mother’s hand tight, and the strange charm around the booklet in his right hand, Guglielmo followed her gently, like when he was a child and was waiting for someone to tell him his favourite tale.

Filiberto figured out what the long story was about and said abruptly:

«Angelica, have you thought long and hard about what you are about to do? I don’t think it’s the right time for this… don’t you remember what the woman told us… If I were you, I wouldn’t do it».

Mother and son had already taken their seat on the sofa.

After Angelica heard those words, she looked up at her husband with her sky blue eyes, staring at him with a deep but tender look.

Did they have the right to keep Guglielmo’s real identity still as a secret?

Could they really go on like this forever?

She knew that she would have upset her son but she was convinced he had to be told the whole thing.

«Filiberto, Guglielmo is a man now and there is no reason for us to keep on hiding something that he would find out over time anyway».

Guglielmo was feeling frustrated as the object of the dispute and not knowing what they had been hiding for such a long time: what were they talking about? What had they hidden from him all that time?

With an instinctive movement, he took off his two fake teeth, as if to say: “Alright now, enough of this… let’s stop messing”.

He was looking at his mother sitting beside him and his father standing.

Those moments felt like large rocks thrown in slow motion which were not falling to the ground; it was really nerve-racking to wait for something to happen.

«Son….twenty years ago, on New Year’s Eve, your father and I were at home, we were not going to celebrate the new year, because I was after having one of the many miscarriages my body had to endure. As a matter of fact, I had the feeling that that night might be different from the other ones…the moon stood out big and peaceful in the sky. All of a sudden we heard somebody knocking at the door. There was a pregnant woman holding a bundle on her lap. You were in it. The woman told us that your biological mother left you, probably because she died or because she could not raise you and give you a good life. She looked concerned and begged us not to tell anyone about what happened that night. We have not told a soul up to now. So you are probably wondering, why do the charm and the booklet have anything to do with me? It is a little secret I have kept all this time, not even your father knew anything about it. When the woman who brought you to our home, handed you over to me, I went upstairs to the bedroom to dress you with the clothes I had prepared for the baby I had lost a few days before. You were all wrapped up in a nightgown which probably belonged to your biological mother. In there I found these two objects and I decided to give them to you once you had turned twenty.

Guglielmo was trying to focus on what his ears had just heard, staring at that opaque and translucent charm that now had a rosy shade, after resting on the palm of his hand. Four embossed winged spirals met up towards the centre, towards a hole through which the black and glossy rope was coming out.

That emblem vaguely reminded of a hooked cross.

His mother was not his mother, his father was not a high-rank army commander…the blood flowing through their veins was different from his, he was not flesh of their flesh.

Who was he then?

Where did he come from?

Who were his real parents?

Why did his mother leave him the night he was born, still covered in that blood that was not Angelica’s?

How could those adults take the liberty to build his life on all those lies?

However maybe it was better that way. The family which took care of him was quiet; his mother, his foster mother loved him as he was really her son.

All this did not make any sense.

«I do not want that all this is going to make you sad, my darling Guglielmo. We do not share the same blood but we share the love that we have built up….sometimes kinship weighs more than heavy chains. It is late: please put on your present and go get Gemma, I will leave the booklet on the bedside table of your bedroom. Have a very happy birthday, son».

After those words, Angelica took the charm off her son’s hands and put it round his neck. He kissed his freshly shaved cheek and got up off the sofa to reach Filiberto who was standing still and had not said a word up to that moment, witnessing what had happened in those few minutes.

Probably it was right to tell Guglielmo about his origins, no curse had come true when Angelica pronounced those words, but the prediction made by that woman who had brought Guglielmo into their lives, still resounded in her mind.

* * *

Guglielmo had parked the car beside the gate leading to Gemma’s house. He pressed the interphone and Gemma’s mother told him that her daughter was ready and that she would have come out right away.

Guglielmo was mesmerized looking at the tiny white puffs coming out of his mouth when he was breathing: he was still trying to process all that information …put it out to him bluntly.

He leaned over the rear-view mirror of his car in order to look for his reflected image in the hope that at least his face was real, his appearance could still be the same after those revelations. In the mirror he saw the face of a young man who loved his life and his family, his foster family, but he was upset, distraught with what he had just been told.

Surely his mother did not intend to upset his near-perfect life, probably she felt it was right to reveal her son his real identity; as a matter of fact, what did she tell him? At that very point, he felt robbed of one of the few sure thing in his life: he felt like a tree whose roots had been pulled out of the warm soil to be exposed ruthlessly in the sun.

That evening he would have celebrated the end of the second millennium and he was wondering whether the last few moments of the year 1999 could have taken with them that feeling of sickness that he felt all over him.

He was brought back to reality by the gate creaking.

Gemma was standing in front of him, the white fabric of her costume swishing. She looked really strange in the darkness of that night: two little wings made with snow white feathers were sticking out of her shoulders and virtually reached out as far as the back of her neck. Her hair was up, showing her full face, a plain tunic was covering her legs down to the tip of her white sneakers.

She was the prettiest angel Guglielmo had ever seen; surely the very first one that had ever appeared right in front of his eyes.

Gemma went closer to him, took off his canine teeth which made him look somehow frightening, and kissed him on the lips.

Their tongues touched and a quiver ran through their bodies: good and evil were enjoying the same pleasure… a strange thought flashed upon Guglielmo’s mind, but his rational side quickly chased it away.

His mind kept going; making up so many theories, without giving him any break. He was looking at Gemma in his arms, she looked so pale and washed out as if she was dead…

What would really upset their lives during those moments?

Was the pure whiteness of her costume taking up all the blood that should have covered Gemma’s face instead?

They got into the car.

Guglielmo turned the key underneath the steering wheel and its rumble alone filled their ears.

The engine slowered down when Guglielmo pushed his right foot on the brake to stop at the traffic lights which was red.

Still silence.

Green.

«I am some kind of an orphan. Angelica is not my mother and Filiberto is not my father. My mother, my real mother left me the very same night I was born».

Guglielmo pronounced that sentence all in one breath, staring at the white line on the road, while stroking the charm around his neck with the fingers of his right hand. He could hear his voice as if it was coming out of somebody else’s body.

Six

The room was packed with young people wearing different clothes and costumes; coloured lights were flashing on and off.

It was nearly midnight. Guglielmo thought it was the right time to head for the bar. Gemma waited for her Count Dracula, gazing at him. She was sitting on a love sofa, a little apart from the rest of the crowd.

«Two glasses of champagne, please».

«Right away Sir. Here are two glasses of superb French champagne and a pinch of magic powder».

The man behind the bar was framed by a huge amount of bottles behind his back. He rubbed his index finger against his thumb of his right hand as if he was really adding a pinch of magic powder into their glasses. The barman was looking at the bedlam going on in the room, behind Guglielmo’s back, regretting that he was not twenty yet and could not take part in the celebrations.

Guglielmo raised the two glasses above his head in order to make his way through the dancing crowd. The bubbles in the pale yellow liquid went afloat while he was heading for Gemma to make a toast for the new year.

As he went past the blasting amplifiers, he heard the sound of that tune beating hard in his stomach; that persistent beat sounded like African tribal drums wildly banging.

He went around the shield that separated the seating area from the dancing floor, but Gemma was not where he had left her.

He sat and waited for her. He drank his glass all in one breath and placed both glasses on the coffee table that was barely visible in the dim light of that place. He then placed his head on the soft backrest of the seat, closed his eyes, letting himself go for a moment.

«Happy New Year, Guglielmo…» a sensual female voice shook him off his thoughts.

A brunette was standing in front of him, her hair was straight and shining, framing her bony face like sharp blades, showing off a wide jawline.

Guglielmo could not take his eyes off her bod inside a tight-fitting skimpy black dress.

Her figure was curvaceous and sexually attractive. The flashing lights made her skin look like velvet. That played a funny effect on the shape of her voluptuous buttocks, the smooth skin on her gorgeously slender legs was like carved marble.

The next thing, they hit the dance floor. Guglielmo did not know how he got there but he was giving it all as if driven by an unknown power.

He forgot about the champagne, about Gemma and their toast before midnight. He rolled up the sails like a drifting boat. He surrendered to that stranger who was playing around with his senses. She was sensually dancing in front of him, turning him on.

The scent off that girl dancing in front of his eyes was far more than a pleasant smell, it outlined her female essence, her femininity, her sensuousness, her exceptional talents. A statement by Guy de Maupassant went into Guglielmo’s mind that said: “ I could not tell whether I was breathing music or whether I was listening to perfumes”, and the smell off that wonderful brunette was not just a pleasure to smell but it was a wonderful dance of all the human senses.

She was attractive and desirable girl, her scent was a pleasure to the palate too.

The crowd all around Guglielmo and her friend was going crazy.

There were just about ten seconds to go before the end of the millennium and every single person in the room was screaming out loud the countdown : «Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…»

The end and the beginning, the sunset of a millennium and the dawn of the new one, long-awaited for, links of the same chain, tiny grains of sand paired up on the same beach.

In the middle of the bustling crowd, Guglielmo ended up in the arms of that brunette who was like a mirage, unreasonably too beautiful to be real.

He froze looking at the dark eyes on that goddess, making it hard for him to breath… Kiss me, kiss my lips, take me now till the end of times, kiss me passionate kisses on my lips, just wet with desire, let yourself go, take your mind off everything, just kiss me, kiss me…Silent words that his ears did not hear but his mind could clearly pick up… The golden net she was using to fully catch him was leaving less and less room around him. Her trap was about to snap and he was so confused, his perception of things around him was so blurred… the sensuous lips on the stranger were enticing him, and he was finding it hard to hold this feeling back.