Frank Polizzi - Somewhere in the Stars

“Ah, this is Brother Ginepro. He doesn’t speak English but nevertheless he is capable of guiding you around the monastery. È vero, Fra’ Ginepro tu sei la guida?” The brother smiled in recognition, revealing several missing teeth. The guests returned the smile before he left the room to retrieve the rest of the food. On first glance, Nick was not able to distinguish whether Fra’ Ginepro was simple or simple-minded, but either way, he sensed that the padre was fond of him.

“Besides Brother Ginepro and myself, there are only two other monks left in the monastery to care for the garden and the fruit orchard. I sent all the others away on a mission to help the disgraziati in the city of Terni. The city, just 56 kilometers south of here, was terribly bombed. Whatever comfort the Franciscans provide for these refugees will be appreciated. Assisi has been most fortunate being designated a holy town, spared the devastation that I’m sure you have seen all over our beautiful country.”

After the food had been brought out, they passed plates around that had little meat but plenty of olives, some cheese, pane antico and red wine. Nick noticed that the wine was watery, disappointed that it didn’t measure up to Umbrian standards, but in deference to Padre Esposito, he bragged about wine of this region. Nathan paid no attention to the wine and ate quickly, anxious to get to point of their visit. Caterina kept her eyes lowered the whole time, picking at the olives. When they finished the meal, the Padre got their attention.

“Let me get to the heart of the matter, miei amici in Cristo. Your cousin, Carlo, is in great danger. When Mussolini was in control, it was easier to protect Italian Jews. In reality, the Germans never trusted the Italians, who many times interceded for their own countrymen, even if they were Jewish. The Gestapo and the OVRA, the fascista secret police, knew there were countless Italian Jews who were never reported.”

“Father Esposito, what does this mean for Carlo?” Nathan interrupted.

“Your cousin must get out of Venice as soon as possible. If the SS or Gestapo find him, no Italian in authority will be able to intercede.”

“But Padre Esposito, how can we get Carlo out with the war raging up north?” Nick asked.

“I’ll get to that momentarily. In the past, when it was safer for our Jewish refugees to travel, they could escape to Switzerland with forged identity cards, or as things worsened, through our own Italian underground by way of Assisi, Perugia, Florence and Genoa, sneaking them onto a neutral ship leaving the country. After the fighting intensified throughout northern Italy, we decided to hide Jewish refugees, paesani or foreigners, right here in town. With help from my printer friend in town, we can replicate new identity cards for Carlo and one of you.”

“When do I go, Padre ?” Nathan asked.

“Wait a minute, Nate,” Nick said. “You can’t go. If they find out you’re an American Jew, you’re a dead man, and besides, you can barely speak Italian.”

“I know enough. You are only here because I said you could tag along.”

“Basta! Let me at least go over the plan first,” Padre Esposito insisted. Nick pressed his palms together as if praying, while Nathan sat rigid. “The safest way to Venice now is by sea, not by land. I have a friend, Giuliano the fisherman, who is a partigiano from Ancona, a city east of here, on the coast of Le Marche .” Padre raised his hands up as if he were blessing something. “He is un uomo di fiducia, a man of trust.” Padre put his hands down. “He can navigate all the way up through the inlets and coves around Venice. He’s in communication with other partigiani there. One of you must go disguised as a Franciscan monk. Brother Ginepro will show you how to wear the robes. Next, the town printer will make a perfect identity card for one of you. No one will detect it as fake. We have never lost a Jewish refugee here. He’ll duplicate another identity card for Carlo. I’ll gather a monk’s robe and sandals for him as well. My friend is also expert at making various city seals and official rubber stamps. All you’ll have to do is trim a photo of Carlo and stamp it in the correct manner. The printer will show the proper technique when he’s done.”

“Padre Esposito, we haven’t settled the problem. Who’s going up north?” Caterina interjected with a wrinkled brow.

The monk remained silent, twisting his cord belt, and walked over to the hanging crucifix and prayed awhile. Then he turned and faced the table, his hands still folded.

“Nick is right. If he is caught, he has a better chance to survive. We don’t need any more Jews dying.” The monk unfolded his hands and extended his arm towards the oversized dark oak door.

“But Father, Nick doesn’t move as fast as I can. You see he has a cane.”

“Nate, you’re stepping over the line,” Nick snapped back.

“ Basta , gentlemen.” He motioned toward the garden. “ Prego , let’s go into the cloister and walk off the meal. I must show you our lovely roses.”

As they entered the garden Caterina pleaded: “Mi scusi, Padre. I am not feeling well. Buonanotte .” Nick looked at Nathan inquisitively and the Padre called for Brother Ginepro who waited in the shadows.

“Prende la signorina alla sua cella, per favore.”

Caterina trailed the monk out of the garden and Nick’s eyes followed her as she left, noting her lovely profile, lit up by a full moon, passing by each semicircle stone arch balanced on top of the columns. Brother Ginepro held a lantern and continued up the steep stone stairs with Caterina in tow. He guided her past many doors made of holm oak until they reached the cell prepared for her. The brother bowed his head before leaving.

Still lingering in the garden, Nick complimented the friar on the variety of beautiful roses, saying he preferred the more visible, white ones. The sweet fragrance of the roses reminded him of Caterina’s perfume. Padre Esposito’s eyes drooped, so Nick suggested they retire to their rooms. They walked up the stairs with Brother Ginepro lighting the way through the darkness. When they reached the top floor, Padre made a left turn to a nearby cell, his “ Buonanotte ” echoing off the stone walls. Brother Ginepro brought his guests to the end of the hall, stopping at the last two cells and opening each door for them. Then the brother extinguished the lantern, disappearing into the dark. Within a few minutes, Nick left his cell and knocked on Nathan’s door.

Nathan cracked the door halfway. “Nick?”

“What’s with the cane business in front of Caterina?”

“Forget it. I didn’t want you going instead of me.”

“Where’s Caterina anyway?”

“Beats me. She must be in another wing.”

“Yeah, that figures—monastery.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Come on, buddy. Don’t get yourself all worked up. You’ll get to see her soon enough.” Nathan winked and Nick let out a laugh.

“Pipe down, Nick. This isn’t North Beach.”

Two hooded monks suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs in a dark yellow haze, each one carrying a candle that illuminated their faces as they glided left on the corridor, chanting “Pax et bonum .”

“Step inside for a minute.” Nick entered the dimly lit cell. “I gotta say something.” Nathan hesitated.

“Spit it out, Nate.”

“I’ve been meaning to say this for quite awhile. I am sorry about what happened between you and my sister.”

“Like water off a duck’s back.”