Leo knew I would just as soon do without the formalities of a saddle and so he would often dismount, check my stirrups and cinches, tell me to sit straighter. Sometimes he’d reach his hand up to the small of my back.
“ ‘Arch right here. Deepen the curve,’ he would say, pressing hard.
“I liked that. I liked it very well, and so I would slouch all the more next morning. Wait for his hand. Though I would begin a trail with the group, I’d soon go off on my own. Longing for speed. Risk.”
“One late afternoon in the winter of 1942, Leo asked me to walk with him in the garden. A rare occurrence it was to be so summoned by him. I recall it was very cold and that I’d come out with only Agata’s shawl, which she always hung on a hook by the garden door. I’d wrapped it carelessly about my long gray woolen dress and Leo pulled it tighter ’round me, chided me for leaving my coat behind. I remember he did that. I remember thinking that his wanting me to be warm must mean that he had bad news to tell me.
“ ‘Mafalda has been sent to live with your mother’s sister, my dear. Your father came to see me this morning to tell me so that I might tell you. You see, she hasn’t been well, and since your father can’t be at home to watch over her and since Mafalda chose, forcefully chose, not to come here to be with us . . . ’
“He breaks off, knowing that I know what Mafalda had chosen.
“ ‘But we’ve arranged a way to keep contact with her, with your aunt and the others in Vicari. I’ll see that you’re taken to visit her as soon as things become more secure. Meanwhile your sister is in good hands and so are you, and that’s what matters. In times like these . . . ’
“He talks faster and faster, inserting inanities as though I were a child. As though he’d forgotten that I was twelve, halfway to thirteen. As though he didn’t know what I knew very well. That my father had been trying to pawn Mafalda upon one relative or another for a long time. Leo spoke as though he’d forgotten that I’d reconciled my father’s need to live without my sister as much as I had his need to live without me. That Malfada has been reconciled to live without me, too, hurts far more. For these past three years I’d believed ours was only a physical separation. Not so now.
“ ‘Don’t, please don’t think that you can ride those eighty kilometers to Vicari as you once did those few from here to your home. I mean, your other home.’
“Awkward in even the simplest discourse about my life before coming to the palace, I help him.
“ ‘I won’t. I could. I think I could but I won’t.’
“ ‘I have the address so you can write to her, send her things if you wish.’
“ ‘Yes. Thank you.’ ”
“As it turned out, the address that my father gave to Leo was not at all the one where my sister was sent. Or at least was not the one where she stayed for very long. And when Leo sent word to my father that he needed to see him, it was discovered that even he no longer lived at the horse farm, the barns empty, the house abandoned.”
CHAPTER IV
“I T MIGHT SEEM STRANGE , C HOU, BUT NEITHER BEFORE NOR then nor on into that autumn and winter was there anything much at all in my life to suggest that the world outside the palace was at war. Save the newspaper reports, the radio broadcasts to which Leo and Cosimo and whatever males were in residence at the palace at the moment listened to with such attention, all seemed remarkably the same. In fact, I found it shocking one morning when we three girls were walking to the schoolroom and Yolande said, ‘Ach, how weary I am of this war and its privations.’
“Even Charlotte seemed at a loss, and certainly I didn’t know about privations. She explained that no more pastries would be coming in the weekly supplies from Palermo because there was no sugar. She said that her mother had told her so. Could we imagine such a thing? No sugar?
“Apart from the pastries,
“ ‘Arch right here. Deepen the curve,’ he would say, pressing hard.
“I liked that. I liked it very well, and so I would slouch all the more next morning. Wait for his hand. Though I would begin a trail with the group, I’d soon go off on my own. Longing for speed. Risk.”
“One late afternoon in the winter of 1942, Leo asked me to walk with him in the garden. A rare occurrence it was to be so summoned by him. I recall it was very cold and that I’d come out with only Agata’s shawl, which she always hung on a hook by the garden door. I’d wrapped it carelessly about my long gray woolen dress and Leo pulled it tighter ’round me, chided me for leaving my coat behind. I remember he did that. I remember thinking that his wanting me to be warm must mean that he had bad news to tell me.
“ ‘Mafalda has been sent to live with your mother’s sister, my dear. Your father came to see me this morning to tell me so that I might tell you. You see, she hasn’t been well, and since your father can’t be at home to watch over her and since Mafalda chose, forcefully chose, not to come here to be with us . . . ’
“He breaks off, knowing that I know what Mafalda had chosen.
“ ‘But we’ve arranged a way to keep contact with her, with your aunt and the others in Vicari. I’ll see that you’re taken to visit her as soon as things become more secure. Meanwhile your sister is in good hands and so are you, and that’s what matters. In times like these . . . ’
“He talks faster and faster, inserting inanities as though I were a child. As though he’d forgotten that I was twelve, halfway to thirteen. As though he didn’t know what I knew very well. That my father had been trying to pawn Mafalda upon one relative or another for a long time. Leo spoke as though he’d forgotten that I’d reconciled my father’s need to live without my sister as much as I had his need to live without me. That Malfada has been reconciled to live without me, too, hurts far more. For these past three years I’d believed ours was only a physical separation. Not so now.
“ ‘Don’t, please don’t think that you can ride those eighty kilometers to Vicari as you once did those few from here to your home. I mean, your other home.’
“Awkward in even the simplest discourse about my life before coming to the palace, I help him.
“ ‘I won’t. I could. I think I could but I won’t.’
“ ‘I have the address so you can write to her, send her things if you wish.’
“ ‘Yes. Thank you.’ ”
“As it turned out, the address that my father gave to Leo was not at all the one where my sister was sent. Or at least was not the one where she stayed for very long. And when Leo sent word to my father that he needed to see him, it was discovered that even he no longer lived at the horse farm, the barns empty, the house abandoned.”
CHAPTER IV
“I T MIGHT SEEM STRANGE , C HOU, BUT NEITHER BEFORE NOR then nor on into that autumn and winter was there anything much at all in my life to suggest that the world outside the palace was at war. Save the newspaper reports, the radio broadcasts to which Leo and Cosimo and whatever males were in residence at the palace at the moment listened to with such attention, all seemed remarkably the same. In fact, I found it shocking one morning when we three girls were walking to the schoolroom and Yolande said, ‘Ach, how weary I am of this war and its privations.’
“Even Charlotte seemed at a loss, and certainly I didn’t know about privations. She explained that no more pastries would be coming in the weekly supplies from Palermo because there was no sugar. She said that her mother had told her so. Could we imagine such a thing? No sugar?
“Apart from the pastries,
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