Author's Note:Before anything-I have to say thank you to some sources I used for this chapter:
The Patron Saints Index.
The University of Notre Dame Latin Translation page
Freetranslations.com
Now-enjoy!Tarlea
Aevyn Stuck out her finger and watched the tiny fingers curve around it. She grinned broadly and looked at Nathyn, who was sitting beside her. He looked at her apologetically and sighed.
"What about Alyce?" she tried.
"Alyce? No. Too ordinary. Besides, that's the schoolteacher's name."
Aevyn gave him a look. She had planned on everything pointing to a girl, but she had not thought of a name. She sighed again and said, "Have you seen her little birthmark? It almost like a sprig of parsley. It's very peculiar."
Nathyn scowled. Then the child let out a gurgle and he broke into a laugh. "Why don't we call her parsley then?" Nathyn joked.
"Well, let's see," Aevyn said thoughtfully, "What's the Latin word for 'parsley'?"
Nathyn thought for a moment. "Apium" he recited.
Suddenly, a clicking noise outside the window made them turn. Nathyn climbed out of the bed and looked into the square below. There he saw Fabrizzio, the Italian peddler who sold fine foods and silks and spices from afar. Nathyn got an idea. "Halloah there!" he hailed the peddler. Fabrizzio put down his small cart and the clicking wheels fell silent. "Can you tell me the word for parsley, in Italian?"
"Ah! Signor! Where Iya-come-from they call her petrosinella!" he called up in his Neopolitan accent.
Aevyn, who had heard the Signor yelling, smiled at her dear child and breathed her name "Petrosinella."
Ten years passed quickly and happily for Aevyn, Nathyn, and Petrosinella. At the age of 12 months Petrosinella said her first word, to the delight of her father, "Papa." At 6, she had a severe cold and was sick in bed for a week. At 9 she was versed in Latin, and had embroidered her first sampler. She had learned how to spin from the spinner-woman, and she was loved by one and all. She often asked about who it was that lived in the cottage beside the high wall, but she soon learned not to speak of it to her parents. She asked the old washerwoman, and she had told Petrosinella the legend of the bookkeeper's wall and the midwife's garden.
The Midwife spent those eleven years in the ruins of Vegodi Castle, preparing it for Petrosinella's arrival. The west wing of the castle was beyond repair, but some of the chambers and ramparts in the east wing had survived the ancient fire, including a tall tower that rose above the rest. A tall winding staircase led up to the small room, but the view from its only window was worth the climb. From the arced stone hung molding velvet curtains, and tattered tapestries clung to the walls. Rotting furniture littered the chambers, mice scurried to and fro, but the castle had been well built, and only a few repairs had been needed. After furnishing the chambers, the midwife built an icehouse over the nearby stream, and set about transferring her herbs to a plot of land near the castle.
Then, as the week of Petrosinella's tenth birthday drew near, the midwife watched and waited. Nathyn and Aevyn, oblivious to the midwife's schemes, prepared for the happy day. There was mincemeat and cake and sweet ale and ribbons and a maypole in the Town Square. Petrosinella stood in front of the small mirror in her bedroom. Her mother had made her a new dress for the occasion, and her long golden hair was bundled behind her, and gilded with flowers and ribbons.
"Mother," she called down the stairs, "may we have the olives that Papa bought from Fabrizzio last week for dinner tonight?"
Aevyn laughed to herself. If there were two things Petrosinella loved they were black olives and fresh parsley. Not being able to wait for an answer, Petrosinella flew down the stairs. Leaping off the last step. She laughed as she landed, gasping for breath.
"Come here you, " Aevyn commanded cheerfully. The girl skipped over obediently. She let her mother straighten her skirt. Standing back for inspection Aevyn said, "Why don't you ask your father about the olives. You look so pretty today he just might give in." Petrosinella giggled, and scurried in the direction of the Town Square to find her father. Aevyn watched her go and thought had beautiful she was, and how quickly she had grown up.
Petrosinella reached the square, where her father and several other men were nailing long ribbons to the maypole.
"Papa!" Petrosinella hailed her father. Nathyn climbed down from atop his ladder and went to meet her. "How's my favorite girl?" he greeted her.
"Oh, I'm fine Papa, " she said dismissively. "Mother says that I must ask you if we can have the black olives you bought from Fabrizzio for dinner tonight. So, can we?"
Nathyn looked very stern and then broke into a laugh. "Well, what do you think I bought them for but to give them to my best girl? And such a pretty lady she is today!" he commented. Petrosinella giggled and dropped a curtsey before running back to help her mother.
Meanwhile, deep in the heart of Barlutte Wood, the midwife poured water on her parsley patch. She had taken special care to nourish the lush plant, knowing that Petrosinella had a taste for the herb. Putting down her bucket, she took a pair of shears and clipped a bunch of the green stems. Gathering them in one hand, she expertly bound them in a piece of twine and carried the bushel inside the cool stone building. Plopping the parsley on the wooden table in the room she had fixed as the kitchen, she fetched a sheet of parchment, some ink, and her quill. Then, laying out the things on the table beside the bushel of parsley, she sat down and began to write.
Aevyn and Nathyn stood and watched as Petrosinella and her friends held hands and danced in a circle. Petrosinella gave out a giggle. Her eyes were full of happiness and her cheeks were red and flushed. The dance ended, and the girl approached them, panting and laughing.
"Oh Papa! What fun! This is the best birthday ever!" she trumpeted. Then, as the music started up again, she scrambled to join the dance. Aevyn looked at Nathyn happily and wiped away a tear. Nathyn pulled her into a tender kiss. The sound of someone calling his name made him turn. He saw Gaethryn at the edge of the square. She shouted again "Nathyn! Nathyn come 'ere-and bring th' missus!" There was an urgency in her voice that Nathyn understood. He turned back to his wife, looked at her gravely and said, "Lets go."
"Come with me," Gaethryn beckoned to a bench a few feet away. Aevyn glanced back towards the square where Petrosinella was dancing gaily. Then she and Nathyn moved to the bench and sat down. Gaethryn, who was sweaty and unkempt and stank of ale, and might have been drunk herself, looked as serious as Nathyn had ever seen her.
"You are good to come 'ere, an' listen to me talk. What I'm gonna tell ye, is very important. Begging your pardon missus," Gaethryn indicated Aevyn, "but you recall when you were in labor an' you an your 'usband 'ere 'ad a bit of a quarrel?"
"Yes," Aevyn said, now alert with worry.
"Well," Gaethryn said forbodingly, "your 'usband came into th' tavern that night, an' so did that witch of a midwife, the one what lives next door to ye." She paused to see the effect that her words were having. " Something 'appened that night that you must know about."
Petrosinella sat and played hand games with her best friend Meg. The dancing had stopped, the musicians gone drinking with their wages, the food had been eaten, and a fire had been lit as the evening crept upon them. Suddenly, Petrosinella remembered the olives. She had left them at home! "Hang on Meg," she told her friend, "I've got to go to the house for something!" With that she jumped up and ran all the way to the small cottage. She climbed through the back window and scrambled to the kitchen. In the dimness of the moonlight that poured through the windows of the shop, she saw the jar of olives on the kitchen table. She grabbed it and made her way out the front door. She began to walk past the old wall, but then had a thought. She walked around to the huge locked gate, and, pushing herself up by the horizontal slats, she pulled herself up onto the top of the wall. She sat down on the top and dangled her legs beneath her. She giggled to herself and began work to open the jar of olives. She was having troubles. She was about to jump down off the wall and go find someone to open the jar for her, when she saw an old woman approaching her. "Auntie!" she hailed the woman.
"Yes. My child?" the woman replied, smiling.
"Can you open this jar of olives for me? It's my birthday and my Papa said we could have them for dinner but I forgot them so I had to come back and get them and then I climbed up here all by myself to eat them but now I can't get it open." She extended the jar.
"Now let me see," said the old woman, putting down the bushel of parsley she was carrying, "hand me the jar."
Petrosinella obediently tossed the jar down into the outstretched hands of the nice old lady. The woman took hold of the lid, strained for a moment, grunted, and then, the lid off, handed the jar back to Petrosinella, who nearly fell off the wall reaching for it. Petrosinella popped some of the olives into her mouth. The old woman watched her, smiling. Then, remembering her manners, Petrosinella offered some to the stranger. The mysterious woman refused, and then suddenly she was crying.
"What's wrong, Auntie?" Petrosinella asked. The woman recovered and said, "Oh, I'm fine, Petrosinella. Are your parents around?"
"No, they're in the square at my party with everyone else. But how did you know my name?"
"I- know your parents," the woman explained.
Then Petrosinella noticed the bundle that the old woman had been carrying. Her eyes lit up. "Is that parsley?" she asked.
"Aye." Said the woman. "It's for my friend." She lied.
"Oh." Said the girl disappointedly.
"Do you like parsley?" the old woman asked.
"Oh yes, very much! That's what my name means, in Italian."
"Does it now?!" the woman feigned surprise. "Well, what a bright child you are! I wish I had some parsley to give you-" she looked troubled. Suddenly her face brightened. "I know! I have lot of parsley in my garden back at the castle that I live in."
"You live in a castle?!" Petrosinella exclaimed excitedly.
"Yes, I do. Vegodi Castle in the heart of Barlutte Wood. Do you know it?"
"Oh yes," the girl replied "that's the one the old washer-woman is always telling me stories about!"
"How would you like to come with me and live there? And then you could have fresh parsley whenever you wanted." The old woman coaxed.
"Oh yes! I would like that very much!" the girl asserted.
"Well, then, go and pack your things, and we'll be off."
And the girl, now ten, did as she was told.