Wolf Omega: The Lykanos Chronicles 2

Chapter Three

""You'll rest," Cecco insisted. "I don't want you to lift a finger. I'll hire a girl to help Apollonia with the house."

I didn't think the extravagance was necessary, at least not so soon. But Cecco was so thrilled by the midwife's confirmation of my pregnancy that I didn't raise a word of protest.

If that's what he wants, I will do it.

It would horrify my mother to find me lounging on a sofa while others toiled for my benefit, but this was my husband's house.

Thoughts of her bolstered my longing, and I asked if Mother could visit during my pregnancy. Cecco insisted that having her here was too great a risk.

"How could we ask her to join in our charade?" he murmured, confused by the suggestion.

And before I suggested that I might visit her instead, I swallowed the whole idea.

Good to his word, Cecco hired a girl, Mella, who visited the house three times a week to wash the clothes, linens, and floors. I spent the next seven months in a perpetual state of leisure. Cecco shot stern looks if I should walk around the house or take to the stairs without necessity, but I was in Heaven. And as winter gave birth to spring, I observed the first warm days arrive to melt the mountain snows and breathe life back into the town.

On the first day of June, a knock came on our front door. I was unprepared to receive company, wearing little more than a dressing gown. Apollonia let someone into the sitting room without first calling to me. Confused by the irregularity, I came downstairs to find a heavy-set man dressed in fine black clothing with a silk collar as white as fresh snow.

"Good morning, Signora Alfonsi," he smiled with untenable familiarity.

"Forgive me, Signore...?"

"Father Piero," he answered with his deep, raspy voice. "It is you who must forgive me for pushing in unannounced. Signore Alfonsi told me you've been unable to attend Mass, first because of illness and now because of your fragile condition. I thought I would take the liberty to visit you privately and see if I may be of service."

I couldn't imagine what he meant by the statement. Though I eventually realized the man was a priest; that 'Father' was what they called themselves. I had never been inside a church before in my life. Religion, like family surnames, had never been part of my upbringing. There had been men, clad as he was, who delivered charity during the darkest days of winter in the farming village of Dazio, but they had never erected a church. Religion was a luxury few there could find time for. It was impracticable and unsuitable for those who struggled merely to survive.

But in the prosperous town of Morbegno, I was known as the daughter of a Sondrio merchant. And so there was no room for such a vacancy in my story.

"That's very kind of you," I smiled.

I called Apollonia to bring refreshments. Already attending to the task, a tray arrived within seconds filled with sliced bread and a cup of red wine.

"Thank you, my child," the priest told her. "Now, if you will excuse us."

Without hesitation, nor so much as a glance in my direction, Apollonia left me alone with the strange man.

He said a few words I didn't understand and then asked, "What sins have you to confess?"

I knew the word 'sins' from general conversation and the gravitas it held for most people. I'd seen people furrow their brow or reproach some unpleasant, regrettable behavior they deemed as "sinful." But I didn't know the religious or academic definition of the 'sins' that Father Piero now asked me to confide.