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“Thank you.”
“Would you like to see Salvo?” Anna gathered up the sleeping baby and brought him into the candlelight, which glowed on his warm, olive skin. He was thin, but had fine little features and shiny black hair.
“He’s beautiful.” Mafalda felt a tingling in her breasts, her milk letting down. “I can nurse him now, if you wish.”
“Oh my!” Anna saw wet spots forming on Mafalda’s blouse. “How lucky you are!”
How lucky you are, Mafalda thought, then shooed it away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Alfredo’s happiest moments were making cheese at the end of the day, while the girls slept on the floor. He had begun the process the previous day, heating the milk in a big pot on the brazier, then mixing in the culture and rennet. The pot would sit for twelve hours, so the curds separated from the whey, then he would scoop the curds into a colander, putting a bowl underneath to catch the remaining whey. The curds would sit another day, then he would get ready for the final stage, tonight.
Alfredo scooped curds onto a cheesecloth and mounded them gently with a spoon. He pulled the four corners of the cheesecloth together, making a ball. He tied a knot in the cheesecloth, to be hung up over the sink to drain even further.
Suddenly he heard scuffling outside.
Bam!A loud bump came from the door.
Alfredo jumped, startled. Instinct told him he needed protection. He scurried to the sink and fetched his paring knife. He brandished it and crept to the door, but heard the commotion subsiding. Whoever had been here was leaving.
Alfredo waited until it was completely quiet. He cracked the door and peeked outside. It was dark. No one was there. All he could see were the shadowy trees along the dirt road that led to town.
He looked down to find a large rock. He picked it up and brought it inside, barring the door for the first time ever. The latch was old, but it worked.
He brought the rock to the table. He could see in the candlelight it had a note tied around it with a string. He took out the note, and though his reading wasn’t the best, he could tell what it said:
STAY AWAY FROM THE PIAZZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Renzo carried the breakfast plates down the hall, past lunatics shouting for help, which was music to his ears. His mood soared because he was going to start his new scheme after his shift today. Soon he’d be making cartloads of money.
“Breakfast is served!” Renzo reached the cell, opened the flap in the bottom, and shoved three plates through. Opera Singer stopped screaming, Raving King Roger barked orders, and Biter growled. Prince Pinocchio was silent.
“Prince Pinocchio, breakfast!” Renzo pushed through the last plate, then opened the top flap so he could see what was happening inside.
Biter reached breakfast first, growling. Opera Singer grabbed his plate and so did Prince Pinocchio. Raving King Roger snatched Prince Pinocchio’s and a fight broke out between the lunatic and the boy, which delighted Renzo.
“Fight, Prince! He’s an old man!”
Prince Pinocchio grappled with Raving King Roger. Bread flew off into the air, and the metal plate clattered to the floor, dripping strawberry jam. Raving King Roger dove for the bread, but Prince Pinocchio got there first.
“Bravo, Prince Pinocchio! You’re learning! Finally!”
Renzo let the flap close, then left to start his day.
And his new future.
Dante sat in his corner,trying not to hear the screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut and imaginedThe Song of Roland, but lately he kept remembering that Oliver and Count Roland died in the end. Dante had cried the first time his mother had read him the end of the story.
Mamma had smoothed his tears away. “It’s very sad they died. I agree.”
I agree, which helped a little. “I wish they lived. They were the heroes. The heroes always live. You’re supposed to, when you’re in the right. You’re supposed to win.”
“I know, but that doesn’t always happen.” Mamma looked sad, too. She was always sad when Dante was sad, so he didn’t have to be sad alone, which was the worst feeling in the world.
“It’s not fair.”
