Finding Myself in Napoli

Finding Myself In Napoli pt 9

With his closing remarks his wolves disassembled and Luciano stepped down from our perch. I stood there watching the people until I heard his voice.

“You can stand and watch tomorrow let us make way for home.”

The ease for which he mentioned the two of us going home almost made me believe him, made me believe I belong here. Whether it was said out of repetition or unknowingly the implication could prove harmful for both of us. Focusing on him again I state “By your lead,” and to rustle his feathers I add “Captor.”

No words, he simply turns and begins to stride through a pathway of tall trees. “I can shackle you if it makes you more comfortable.” Comical I muse and trail behind him.

Our trek leads us to a palatial villa where the entrance is lined with Corinthian columns. Crossing over the threshold down a short corridor opens onto a courtyard, with more columns on either side marking a stone path around it. As we walk through the columned breeze way, in the center is a courtyard with the sunlight directly upon it. In the courtyard stood a single tree with white blossoms, and under that tree were a table and four chairs that looked as if they haven’t been use for some time. The entire yard looked as if it hadn’t been tended to in a while, but through the overgrown foliage I could the beauty it once had.

Through a series of halls and open rooms we came to a stop in front of a massive wooden door. His bed chamber was beautiful; in each corner stood tall black candelabras. To the right along one stone wall are huge floor to ceiling windows letting in the soft breeze and the morning light, illuminating the room in its entirety. On the windows fine drapery; sheer enough to billow in this morning’s breeze and allow light to seep through. On the opposite wall was his massive bed. The bed occupied the half the length of the wall allowing space for small in tables on either side, and at the foot of the bed a cushioned bench.

Tapestries’ adorned each wall some large others small in varying lengths, but the most impressive in size and opulence. Walking near I study the design, tracing each scroll and name on the tapestry with my eyes. The piece is almost floor to ceiling. Vaguely aware of Luciano’s presence beside me I continued to study this piece of art.

Luciano spoke, but not in our common tongue. Glancing at him with a look of befuddlement he chuckles quietly. “House of Savelli, my family’s linage goes back centuries. My family has been chieftain of this clan for more than three centuries, and every new generation has been documented,” he points to the far corner of the tapestry where his name that of his children have been woven in, “and now my children have been added to this legacy.”

“Get dressed my hellions should by awake by now.” Still in awe over the scale of just how grand his family is and how long their linage and legacy stretches, I didn’t anticipate Luciano throwing a pair of trousers at my head. Turning around I fix Luciano with a chastising glare and he shrugs his shoulders in response.

Now fully aware that we entered his home completely naked from the forest and that his children may enter at any moment I put on the trousers hanging from my head and watch as he does the same. As we exit his bedroom I couldn’t help but marvel at his defined back and the crease of two firm globes that low riding trousers allowed me to view.  For the first time I took notice of a tattoo that began on the lower left side of his back and travel underneath the cloth. I wondered if he would allow me to explore just where the tattoo ended.

The sound of running and a child’s laughter broke through my lustful thoughts. Rounding the corner first was Alessandra followed closely by Lucca, but upon seeing me in their home the pace slowed until they finally stood in front of both Luciano and I. Lucca looked to me with barely restrained glee in his eyes while his sister looked to their father with uncertainty; the last I last I spoke to them I was barking commands and ignoring her question, I understood her uncertainty at my presence.

“We will eat in the center garden, I need the two of you to clear off the table and chairs while Hassan and I grab things from the kitchen.” Luciano instructed his children, and with a nod of their heads they ran off again to accomplish their task.

Addressing me now, “Later on I give you the grand tour, but for now follow me to the kitchen.”

In the kitchen we prepared platters with fruits, cheeses, bread, and pitchers of water and wine. We moved around each other in a natural fluidity that seemed almost rehearsed, it was unsettling feeling: I didn’t want my presence to become permanent here; I wouldn’t do this family or myself any good.

“How domestic this all seems, after all am I not a prisoner.” I mention over my shoulder.

Luciano chuckles, “Who knows maybe you’ll enjoy it after your time here.”

At the obscure mentioning of the time I would spend here it became clear to me that he never specified exactly how long my servitude – I thought sarcastically – would last. “Just how long is my indenture servitude to last?”

Facing one another with platters and pitchers in both hands looking directly at one another, “Until I’m thoroughly satisfied.” He walks away heading to the garden, but adds over his shoulder, “I’m hardly ever satisfied.” All I could do was shake my head, this man.

In the garden under the shade of a tree with white blossoms, the children sat on one side as Luciano set the table with platters he carried. Following suit I place my platters on the table and take my seat beside Luciano.

Through the course of the meal I remained quiet and just listened to the banter between father and children. It is a relaxed atmosphere filled with good humor and genuine smiles. As I look at the little faces across from me I see admiration and true affection for their father, emotions I had not been so fortunate to feel for my biological parents or the surrogates that took me in.