The Lost Catacomb (21 page)
Elena walked over to the pew in which she and her family
always sat each Sunday morning and made herself comfortable.
Today she had slept later than usual and
had decided to go to mass on her own rather than with her parents and brother
Giulio.
They had already been to
services at Santa Maria in Trastevere two hours ago and had indulged her wish
to wake up late and go to church without them.
In fact, they had just finished eating a
light breakfast, the scent of freshly baked rolls and the ersatz coffee they
had been forced to favor since the beginning of the war still wafting through
the apartment as she hurried out the door.
As she waited for the service to begin, she glanced around
her in the dimly lit transept and realized that there were very few familiar
faces there that morning.
Most of
the people whom she knew from the neighborhood had apparently attended mass
earlier, and, to her surprise, she felt a bit uncomfortable among this group of
strangers.
It was a good thing she
’
d arrived a few minutes
early.
Otherwise she might have
been forced to sit somewhere towards the back, where it was harder to
concentrate and hear Father Donato
’
s
sermon.
Father Donato, the parish priest, was getting on in years
—
she guessed his
age to be somewhere in the vicinity of seventy, maybe seventy-five
—
and his voice had
begun to weaken, taking on a slight tremor that made it difficult to hear him
at times. He had been assigned to the parish of Santa Maria in Trastevere for
as long as she could remember and had become almost a surrogate grandfather
figure to many of the young men and women her age.
He always had a kind word, a ready
smile, and, on occasion, a pocketful of sweets hidden deep inside his cassock,
which he distributed to the youngest children who came to mass.
She smiled to herself as she thought about how easy it was to
go to confession, knowing that he was there on the other side of the grate in
the confessional booth.
Not that
she'd ever had any serious sins to confess.
She had never been given more than a few
halfhearted Hail Marys to say, and then only for minor infractions such as not
paying complete attention during her catechism lessons as a child or, nowadays,
for being reluctant to wash dishes at home or clean up her bedroom.
The church filled up quickly, and the service began.
An hour later she found herself standing
outside the massive, carved wooden doors of the building, opposite a large
plaza and fountain, waiting to greet Father Donato. It had been several weeks
since she had been to confession, and she wanted to ask him how he was
feeling.
He had seemed unusually
lethargic this morning, weak and exhausted, even during his rather brief
sermon, and Elena was concerned that he might actually be ill.
Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder and quickly turned to
see the cold hawk-like eyes and hard features of an acquaintance of her brother
—
Mauro
Rostoni.
She could hardly call him
a friend of Giulio, since she knew that her brother had disliked and studiously
avoided Mauro, even though the two had attended the local high school together.
She had heard that Rostoni had completed
all requirements for the priesthood in one of the local seminaries directly
affiliated with the Vatican in less than the usual number of years and had just
taken up a prestigious position in the Apostolic Palace as an assistant to the
Holy Father himself.
He was
rumored to be brilliant, and it was common knowledge that he was very
ambitious.
She guessed that he was
spending a rare Sunday with his family, since it was likely that his duties in
the Holy See would keep him away from the parish on a general basis.
Elena had always found him somewhat repellent.
Not that he was physically unattractive
in any significant or unusual way, but there was something about his unyielding
manner and stony expression that always made her think of some sort of
predator, silent and deadly, lying in wait, ready to spring on its hapless
victim.
Though it was warm outside, even for the time of year, she
shivered and crossed her arms in an unconsciously protective gesture, waiting
for him to speak.
After all, he had
sought her out
—
not
the reverse
—
and
she certainly had no intention of encouraging any conversation with him.
In fact, she couldn
’
t
imagine why he had approached her, since she had always deliberately kept out
of his way.
And besides, what would
a newly ordained priest want with a teenage girl like herself?
She certainly wasn
’
t a candidate for holy
orders.
But she also knew that on
the few occasions when he
’
d
attended mass at the same time as her family usually did, that he would stare
at her from under hooded eyelids, like some horribly repugnant reptile, cold
blooded and silent, yet quick and deadly when it strikes.
He wouldn
’
t
be the first young man in the neighborhood to have found her attractive, but he
was certainly the last one with whom she would wish to have any contact
whatsoever.
She knew she was na
ï
ve in many respects,
but still, she had always thought that anyone who had joined the priesthood
would do so only if he had a serious calling or true vocation for it.
Not that she hadn
’
t heard risqu
é
stories about priests and nuns.
She hoped he wasn
’
t
going to ask to walk her home, perhaps to inquire about Giulio, because if he
did, she knew she would be firm in her refusal, even to the point of rudeness
if necessary.
And she hated to make
a scene in public, especially outside the church and possibly in front of
Father Donato, whom she expected to emerge from the building at any moment.
She looked at Rostoni with a guarded expression on her face
and was stunned when her grabbed her arm, holding it in a painful vise-like
grip, and maneuvered her around the corner of the church and into a narrow side
street, where a black-shirted figure waited for him.
She was too shocked to protest or even to cry out or scream.
The only sound that escaped from
her throat was a choked gasp of terror and pain.
Finally she kicked his shin and he
released her arm.
But she was
too frightened to run.
“
My
dear Signorina Conti,
”
he
said in cold, sarcastic tones, ignoring his bruised leg,
“
I think you
’
d better stay put and
listen, if you know what
’
s
good for you.
And for your whole
miserable family.
“
My
friend here, Giovanni Torloni, has been informed
—
and I
’
ve
confirmed for him
—
that
your family has been employing a racially inferior tutor for you.
A Jew,
”
he spat out venomously.
“
And
in clear violation of the Racial Laws.
”
Elena now tried to move away from him, but he had cornered
her near the wall of a nearby building, and there was no escape.
“
No
Jew may be employed by any Christian family,
”
he continued.
“
As you
well know.
No Jew may receive any
financial benefits from racially pure Italian families.
As you well know.
That is the law.
You and your family have been under
surveillance for some time now, so don
’
t
even try to deny it.
We
’
re not stupid or blind.
“
Mio
amico
, Giovanni, and his colleagues are willing to overlook your past
behavior as a personal favor to me, as long as it does not continue.
As a matter of fact, you might wish to
consider me as a prospective tutor, my dear Signorina Conti.
I assure you that my credentials are
impeccable and my fees quite affordable
—
at
least in your case,
”
he
added as his eyes ran up and down the length of her body.
“
And
my duties at the Vatican are not as time-consuming as you might believe.
“
Meanwhile,
you and your entire family are in danger of
denuncia
.
I need not explain, I am sure, just what
happens to those who are denounced to the Fascist militia or the Gestapo as
collaborators with the Jews.
”
He paused for dramatic effect and
added,
“
Or to
those who are their whores,
”
moving even closer to her, as she tried to shrink back into the wall.
“
It
is only my special regard for you that has prompted me to share this with you,
”
he added, glancing at
Giovanni, who still stood within earshot, languidly exhaling a puff of smoke
from his cigarette, his hand resting casually on the pistol that was
ostentatiously displayed in its gleaming leather holster, the insignia on his
uniform displaying the
Fasci di combattimento
—
the ancient Roman
bundle of rods enclosing an ax with a projecting blade.
Elena narrowed her eyes and thrust out her jaw defiantly, now
angrier than she had thought possible.
“
My tutor,
as you term him, is a friend of my brother,
”
she said waspishly.
“
Which
you are not.
He tutors me for free,
so he
’
s not in
violation of any law that I know of.
My family does not employ him.
He receives no salary.
He is
intelligent and generous.
And
gentlemanly.
Which you are
not.
I cannot see how this is any
of your affair.
”
Clearly infuriated, Rostoni grabbed her chin between his
thumb and forefinger and squeezed, shifting her face upward so that she could
not avoid the menace in his eyes.
Though he was hurting her, she would not give him the satisfaction of
crying out.
His breath was hot upon
her face.
“
I
will not repeat myself again,
cara
,
”
he hissed.
“
You have
been warned.
”
And as he removed his hand from her jaw she felt him
deliberately brush it against her breasts and pinch her nipple.
In terror mixed with an equal measure
of anger, she crunched her heel on his instep and broke away.
She fled down the street, not pausing to
catch her breath until she had reached her home.
In the inner courtyard of the apartment building, she
collapsed near a large pot of pale hydrangeas that had somehow survived the
winter and burst into tears, harsh sobs racking her slender frame.
“
Dio
,
Dio
,
”
she
cried over and over again.
“
What am I going to
do?
What am I going to do?
”
And though she had not yet eaten, she clutched her stomach
and vomited in dry, painful spasms onto the lavender and pink petals, shaking
and shivering uncontrollably in the warm late July air.
It had now been eight weeks since Elena and Niccol
ò
had been meeting on a
regular basis for her tutoring sessions in math and physics.
Both were pleased to discover that they
worked comfortably together.
She
found that he explained difficult concepts and theories far more clearly than
her teachers had ever done and that he was exceptionally patient when she
needed more time to assimilate information. Effortlessly patient, in fact.
At times he would entertain her with anecdotes about the
university, something that Giulio rarely did, and he treated her as if she were
his contemporary, rather than some sort of surrogate younger sister.
He had told her, once, that he had
always wanted a sibling, but that it had just never happened.
Apparently his parents had been married
for close to ten years before he himself had been born, and at this point in
time, the most he could hope for was to marry some day and have at least
several children, to make up for having been an only child.
“
Not
that there haven
’
t
been some advantages to it, Elena,
”
he confided.
“
But I would have rather
had less attention from my parents and fewer material possessions and had a
couple of brothers or sisters to share it all with.
At any rate, it wasn
’
t as if I
—
or my parents
—
had any choice in
the matter.
“
And
no choice seems to be par for the course nowadays, in general,
”
he remarked.
“
At
least for many of us.
And believe
me, I don
’
t mean
to downplay how this war has affected everyone, not just those of us who happen
to be Jewish.
None of us knows what
tomorrow will bring.
”
As he said this, he saw that Elena
’
s eyes had suddenly filled with tears, and he leaned
over to wipe them away with his handkerchief.
“
What
’
s wrong, Elena?
”
he asked.
“
Have
I said something to upset you?
”
“
Oh,
Niccol
ò
,
”
she cried, and burst
into tears.
She wept bitterly for a
few minutes, as he put his arms around her and tried to calm her down.
That one tender kiss, a week earlier, when he had broken
curfew and regaled her with tales about the stars, had not yet been
repeated.
Though there was an
undeniable attraction between them that they were finding increasingly
difficult to resist, they had not been left alone in the apartment until
now.
And because they generally
used the large mahogany dining room table for their lessons, in a central and
highly trafficked area of the Conti home, they had done no more since then than
lean against each other over their books or hold hands surreptitiously under
the table.
Elena
’
s
mother had gone out ten minutes ago with the family
’
s ration coupons to pick up a few things from the
local greengrocer, a process that could take up to an hour because of the
queues.
Her father, an accountant,
was still at work, and Giulio had popped his head in the doorway just a few
minutes earlier to say that he was stepping out for a while and would be back
soon.
As Niccol
ò
held her, he hoped her mother and brother wouldn
’
t return early and find them in this potentially
compromising position.
Not that
there was anything technically wrong with holding and comforting her, but he
knew he had been placed in a situation of trust and was reluctant to do
anything to jeopardize it.
Elena finally stopped sobbing and began to explain haltingly,
“
I didn
’
t want to tell you this
. . . I didn
’
t
know how.
But I have to.
I haven
’
t even told my parents yet.
Or Giulio.
“
But
Sunday, after mass, someone from the neighborhood, a horrible person named
Mauro Rostoni, took me aside . . . No, he forced me to come with him,
”
she said with a
shudder of revulsion.
“
He threatened me,
Niccol
ò
.
.
.
He threatened to get you
in trouble with the Blackshirts for tutoring me.
I tried to tell him that you do this for
free. That we
’
re
not in violation of the Racial Laws.
But I don
’
t
think he cares.
”
She wiped away a tear that had coursed down her cheek.
“
There
’
s more.
He . . . he hurt me.
And he touched me . . . inappropriately.
”
She tried to regain her composure and then added,
“
You see, Niccol
ò
, he
’
s a priest!
He was ordained about a year ago and
works at the Vatican.
No one would
ever believe me.
It was horrible!
”
Niccol
ò
looked at her in shock and held her both of her hands tightly in
his.
“
Elena, is there anything else?
You don
’
t have to be afraid to tell me.
Did he harm you in any way?
I think you know what I
’
m trying to ask.
Please tell me.
I can try to help.
I thought you looked upset when I
arrived today, but you seemed to get it under control, and I didn
’
t want to intrude by
asking.
”
“
I
’
m afraid of him,
”
she answered.
“
He
. . . he didn
’
t .
. . force himself on me,
”
she stammered brokenly.
“
But I don
’
t know what he
’
ll try to do next.
He
’
s dangerous.
He has a brother in the local
carabinieri
and friends among the
neighborhood Blackshirts.
He
brought along a friend to intimidate me.
Someone who just stood there and
watched while he . . . while he hurt me and . . . touched me.
“
I
don
’
t think I can
talk about it anymore.
But I
’
m scared.
I
’
m scared about what could happen to you.
”
And she started to cry again.
He held her close and stroked her hair gently, and she tilted
her tear-stained face to meet his lips.
They kissed, slowly at first and then more hungrily, all but forgetting
that her mother or brother might come home at any moment.
She leaned closer and dotted his
neck with soft kisses, then unbuttoned his shirt in a naturally reflexive
action, pressing her lips over and over again to his chest and passing her
hands over his body, under his shirt.
He groaned and cupped her breasts, startled to find that she
wore no bra beneath her dress.
Her
nipples grew erect at his touch, and he fumbled at her buttons, opening her
dress to the waist and slipping it and her thin cotton camisole off her
shoulders.
He bent and kissed her
breasts, caressing her gently, and felt her hand reach for his crotch, rubbing
him until he thought he would explode.
His hands now rested on her buttocks, beneath her dress, his
hands inside her panties.
She
moaned and began to unzip his trousers as he pulled her panties down to her
ankles and slipped his fingers into her, stroking and probing as they continued
to kiss with greater and greater urgency, their tongues hard and thrusting into
each other
’
s
mouths.
Heedless of everything but each other, they staggered
backwards against the wall, and he raised her to him.
She flexed her knees and slid onto him
in a movement that brought with it a sudden gasp of pain followed by sensations
she had never imagined possible, as they melted together in a timeless act of
love, ordained by fate and sanctioned by the all-knowing stars.