Chapter 7 : A Missing Link

The first few weeks after being found out, he had not once tried to escape again. Like Petrosinella in her tower, so he was trapped in the Vargas villa, surrounded by gilded frames and spiraling sculptures and all the furnishings of the wealthy and the powerful. But they did not impart any wisdom to him—he was too young to appreciate much of it anyway—and he felt trapped and lonely.

For some time Romano did not hear anything from Toni; he often fancied that the older boy might be watching him secretly from afar, only keeping to the shadows due to Nonno's constant surveillance. But whether this was true, he couldn't tell. It was only after about a month, when he'd climbed the many steps to the northernmost ramparts—for the twelfth time—that he finally heard a familiar yell from the other side of the wall.

That well-known face and those ever-smiling eyes beamed up at him from below.

"Roma! I'm back!"

Of course, Romano nearly fell off his seat when he realized it really was Toni, but that was normal.

"Where the heck did you go?" he shouted angrily. "You didn't come back for a month! And I waited!"

"Lo siento, but... my papa had business!" Toni had already started climbing the wall, and sat himself down next to Roma, swinging his legs as he sat on the very edge. He looked freer and livelier and happier than ever, and Romano, noticing this, felt rather jealous of him.

"We went around town for a while," Toni elaborated after a moment of silence. "I had to go with him, so I couldn't come back. But I'm here now, so what say you to a little walk, Roma?"

The little Italian glared at him and Toni stopped, abashed.

"Nonno won't let me anymore because of you!"

"But... I didn't mean to, I swear!" the other boy protested. "I promised I wouldn't tell, and I never did! I just didn't know it would take that long... you're still mad at me for that, aren't you? I'm sorry..."

Romano gave a little huff, but his face had softened and the childish anger had at last faded.

Maybe it had been the expression in those expressive green eyes.

He forgave Toni that time, freely and without regret. Together they went out exploring once again. All the way down to the canals, where they'd hitched a ride on a gondola with the aid of Toni's silver tongue. They went farther that time, saw more of the city, exchanged whispers of astonishment and discovery (although, to be sure, it was mostly Roma). And Romano himself found out more about the mysterious older boy who had bought candy for him that first day on the street.

Of Spanish origin, he was, but his family had come to Italy a long time ago. Like Romano, he had no mother. But he did have a father. What that father did was unknown, but he managed to bring back enough money to feed and clothe Toni and his sister, and for that Toni seemed grateful enough. Romano, of course, did not much understand such difficulties.

What fascinated him most, however, was the vast knowledge Toni seemed to have, tucked away in his mind until the time came to make use of it all. Sometimes they would sneak to the libraries together, and pore over books until the place closed and it was time to run back home. And often, when Romano was trapped at home, Toni would come climbing up the wall in the evenings to join him for the sunsets.

It was almost too easy to feel something for him, and one day late in the summer, Romano realized it.

Just several days ago, they had had a close call. Romano had gone back up the wall, as was his wont, and gotten the shock of his life when he'd seen Nonno down below, talking with the guards. He'd been lucky to sneak back to his room without being noticed, but hadn't dared to meet Toni for the next few days.

The moment the Spanish boy showed up again, Romano, harnessing the spoiled nature with which he'd grown up all his life, was ready to make a bargain.

"If I go with you this time, you better give me something nice."

Toni only responded with a grin, unfazed by these sudden new terms of friendship.

"Oh, but I do!" he exclaimed. "Wait—" And he reached into his pocket and brought out a golden something that glittered in the morning sun. Romano's eyes suddenly grew to the size of saucers.

"Is—is that a necklace?" he spluttered. "But necklaces are for girls!"

Toni looked saddened, which made Romano feel rather guilty. "My papa brought this back with him, though... he said it costs a lot of money, and he was lucky he got it free of charge. Don't you want it? It's pretty. And it has real gold. Look!"

He held up the necklace to the light, and it flashed, brilliantly. A golden charm gleamed—a little carving of a sun, with a tiny smiling face. Romano stared at it in wonder for a while, finding it hard to hide his interest.

"It is nice," he admitted finally.

Toni brightened and watched him, excitement shining in his eyes.

"Nice enough for you to take it so we can go?"

Romano pouted.

"Maybe."

The way Toni's face glowed at the response was enough for him to say yes, even just in his head. Romano was too young to understand the implications of such a gift, and he was used to getting expensive presents anyway.

The little Italian watched as the older boy helped him put on the necklace. Toni's eyes shone so angelically, so joyfully, and his face was that of a boy at one with the world. He looked so content...

Romano felt his cheeks growing red with something other than ordinary embarrassment.

"There!" announced Toni after what seemed like forever (at least to Romano). "It looks pretty, see! I have one too!"

And from under his shirt he pulled out another gold necklace, almost identical in design to the one Romano wore—except dangling from the chain was a little moon. Toni reached for the sun from Romano's necklace and pressed them together with a little click. They fit together perfectly.

"My papa said they're supposed to be together! And it's supposed to be the same for the people who wear it... But I wanted to give it to you because it's special. And you're special, too!" Toni grinned as he caught sight of Romano's indignant blush. "Keep it for me, won't you? Then—if one of us grows up and leaves and comes back again, we can still find each other! Okay?"

Romano looked down at the two small ornaments, connected by a childish pair of hands. Then he glanced back up to meet Toni's smile.

"Okay."

He awoke, gasping, in a cold sweat. The chill of the night wrapped around him, and he shivered violently, but it was more from the nightmarish memories still repeating, ceaselessly and without mercy. The haunting words and eerie cheerful laugh seemed to echo in the sudden silence, and he shook his head, trying to push it away, to forget—but it all remained.

He felt sick—almost delirious. Surely he couldn't have caught cold from that near-drowning in the sea. Someone had helped him—who was it again?—Tommaso, yes. This was probably his very house, but it was safe, he was sure. Nothing could happen here... In his half-dreaming state Lovino couldn't remember what it was he'd come here for.

His mind was still fixated on that faint, happy, chilling memory. The dream came back to him every once in a long while, whenever he was particularly drained or unhappy or otherwise unwell. And every time he awoke from it, not believing it was true, not wanting to believe it was true, that it had actually happened. But every time he reached for the necklace, it had been there.

And that was how he knew everything had been real.

Of course the boy Toni had not been a figment of his imagination. He knew, yes, he knew. In fact, he knew this so well that he'd sometimes wondered whether that one Spaniard named Antonio Fernandez Carriedo might be the same person. Certainly his name was similar enough, his cheerful demeanor, his eyes...

But the boy from his youth was gone. He wasn't coming back, and Lovino knew that just as well, and accepted it. Remembering and musing over it only made things more painful, more disturbing, more frightening.

Shakily he lifted his hand to his throat, attempting to confirm the presence of the golden necklace as he had done so many times before. He was prepared for the feeling of cool metal against his fingers, the pricks from the sharp edges of the tiny carving, so that he could cement the reality of the dream, to relive that once-happy memory in its entirety.

But it wasn't there.

It seemed only seconds later before there came a tap on his door, and in walked Tommaso without waiting for a reply.

"I've seen them," he said simply. "They're still far off, but they're coming, and quickly. They might be here in a little over an hour."

Lovino stared almost blankly at him, his own thoughts momentarily interrupted.

"That soon?" he asked in disbelief.

"Looks like it." The older man's face was lined with worry and a touch of grimness. "And it's almost daylight. I've already had most of the women and children leave for the woods, off to the west—the far end where they won't be found so easily. There's a small shelter set up for them already..." From the look on his face, it would seem that he'd orchestrated the whole plan himself.

"But they would be safer behind city walls," protested Lovino.

"Yes, that's true, but it's still rather far off, and I don't know if they'll make it before the pirates arrive. I don't want to risk their being seen." Lovino remembered his talk of 'children,' and wondered whether he might have a child or grandchild there among them. "And I do have a few able-bodied lads with them for protection. But as for the rest of us..."

The unspoken question hung in the air like an invisible weight.

Fight or flight?

Lovino had just opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly it didn't seem like his place to do so. He was but a visitor, albeit an unknown and unexpected one.

At last he resorted to a cautious question.

"What did the others say?"

Tommaso glanced at him, and a wry grin spread across his suntanned features.

"They're staying. We all are."

The younger Italian blinked.

That was to be expected, however. Given the choice between leaving his own home and defending it, Lovino would have done exactly the same.

"I'll help," he said suddenly.

He'd thought the older man's face couldn't possibly grow more serious, but it did. Tommaso gave him a look of utter disapproval. "Lovino, you're unwell. We didn't want to move you till you woke, but you'll be going to the woods. It's not safe here."

"No."

"No?"

"No," said Lovino firmly, and his eyes flashed suddenly with a strange, unidentifiable emotion. "I have a score to settle. I'm not going anywhere."

After a long moment, Tommaso nodded.

"Then so be it. Come with me and I'll get you outfitted."

Lovino rose and made to follow him, but one thing still weighed heavily on his mind.

"Tommaso—on the way here, did you see me drop anything?" The questioned man looked curiously at him, and he hurried to explain. "I mean—it was just something small. A necklace, perhaps? A gold necklace?"

He only received a confused glance in response.

"No... You lost it, you say?"

"Sì..." Lovino reached up to his neck again, but as he'd found earlier, there was nothing there. Something akin to anger flared up at the loss, although he'd never consciously attached much value to the necklace. "Perhaps I didn't drop it," he mused. "Perhaps one of the pirates took it from me—how couldn't I have noticed?—perhaps it might even be Carriedo himself." He gritted his teeth at the mention of the name. "Well, if it is, fuck him... I'll have another word with him soon enough... we'll see who wins out then. Ha!"

Completely disregarding the old man's presence, he strode angrily out of the room, still muttering to himself, walking in no particular direction.

Tommaso remained still for a moment, staring at the retreating back of the young man, and then shook his head.

"Recklessness... such recklessness..." he mused. "And they call themselves 'brave,' these young'uns..."

The sun was rising, slowly but surely, and it was heralded by the chirping and cawing of numerous seabirds, which grew louder and noisier as the minutes dragged on. The racket did not much help many of the pirates' strained nerves—particularly Antonio's.

Ever since he'd set foot on this beach, his senses had sharpened, instantly and almost unpleasantly. He felt as though every single whisper on the wind, every rustle in the bushes, every little sign of life in the landscape around him might indicate someone watching. He couldn't shake off the ominous feeling, although he knew he shouldn't be too concerned with a mere bunch of villagers.

The pirates around him were equally restless. Antonio had ordered them split into three groups in order to surround the village. He himself, more out of obligation than true willingness, led the pirates who would meet the foe directly. That was to happen first—then Eduardo and Emilio would come at them from behind and the sides to make sure no one escaped.

It was a good plan on paper and in verbal discussion—but whether it would work would have to be determined by chance and luck and other such factors.

They trekked for a while without much ado, following the general direction of the faded footprints that had been found earlier. All was quiet for the longest time, and then:

"Cap'n, look! I found somethin'!" hissed a young pirate.

Quickly the others gathered around, and Antonio pushed his way through them to the sound of the voice.

"What is it?"

The boy held up his hand. In his palm lay something golden that shimmered, even in the dim light.

It was a necklace.

As Antonio caught sight of it, something in his chest tightened, and he felt as though a weight suddenly pressed upon him. Silently he reached for it and held it up to the sky.

A small charm, in the shape of a sun, dangled from the thin chain.

"Where... where did you find this?" he managed to ask.

"Right there," answered the young pirate, unnerved by the captain's expression and tone of voice. "It was next to those footprints. It could have been the prisoner's."

And in that moment everything seemed to crash down upon Antonio.

He stared at the piece of jewelry in his hand, unmoving, almost disbelieving. It couldn't be true... after all this time, it had reappeared.

He had reappeared.

It was him.

It had been him all along.

"C'mon, you know that's not true—answer my question, mi amigo! You're from Italy, I'm from Italy! Couldn't we get to know each other—"

"Wait."

"Sí?"

Lovino was staring at him with an incredulous look.

"You... you said you were from Italy...?"

Involuntarily he reached one hand up and clutched at the little carved moon which hung from his own golden necklace.

Of course he had come from Italy.

Where else could he have obtained the necklaces, and given one away?

x X x

Translations, etc.

Petrosinella – The Italian version of Rapunzel. The story was written by Giambattista Basile in his collection of fairy tales in 1634.