Spider - Michael Morley [54]
37
Mount Amiata, Tuscany
There were days when Tuscany looked so beautiful that Nancy imagined God must have made Italy himself, but then, for some reason known only to him, he subcontracted work on the rest of the world to some Poles who had promised to get it done cheaply and be finished by the end of the week.
Today was one of those days. With Zack in nursery, and Carlo and Paolo briefed on pending jobs at the hotel and restaurant, Jack and Nancy decided to make the most of their time together before he headed off to meet Massimo in Rome.
They spent the morning walking on Mount Amiata. Jack puffed and wheezed far more than he ever thought he would as they climbed the former volcano’s great slabs of yellowish-brown rock.
The view from the top across the Val D’Orcia was as stunning as any they had ever seen. They stood side by side on the summit, a warm and gentle wind buffeting them, as they tried to pick out the more notable landmarks of Pienza, Montalcino, Radicofani and of course their own San Quirico.
‘Do you know where San Quirico got its name from?’ asked Nancy, as Jack pointed a finger towards its distinctive ancient walls.
‘No, I don’t,’ he conceded, ‘but I’ve got a sneaky feeling that I know someone who does.’
The wind sprayed Nancy’s hair across her face as she turned in the breeze. ‘It’s not nice. Seems the town takes its name from the child martyr Saint Quiricus.’
‘Who was he?’ asked Jack, eager for her to get to the point.
‘Be patient. I’m getting there,’ said his wife, well used to his ways. ‘Back in the year 304, when Quiricus, or Cyricus as he was sometimes called, was only three years old, the same age as Zack, his mother Julietta was sentenced to death for being a Christian. When she appeared before the local governor in Tarsus and sentence was passed, she had her young son with her. The boy made a fuss, insisting that he wouldn’t leave his mother, no matter what happened to him. The officials told him, rather brutally, that his mother was to be killed because she was a Christian. At which point, Quiricus declared that he was also a Christian and wished to die with her. This “stand” apparently maddened the governor so much that he grabbed the boy by his legs and smashed his head on some stone steps. Now here’s the amazing bit: Julietta didn’t weep; instead, she openly showed that she was happy.’
‘Come again?’ interrupted Jack. ‘Happy?’
‘Yes, happy. Apparently she was honoured that her son had been chosen to earn the crown of martyrdom.’ It made Nancy wonder if history was repeating itself in the modern world. ‘Maybe that’s how the parents of suicide bombers feel these days, perhaps their mothers feel honoured.’
‘Enough now,’ said Jack, keen not to start such a debate. ‘You’re beginning to sound like my old grandmother.’
‘That’s no bad thing from what I remember. You liked her, didn’t you?’
‘Adored her,’ corrected Jack, fondly remembering the old woman. ‘She was a Bible-bashing nutcase, but I loved her to bits.’
‘Anyway, Saint Quiricus is the patron saint of family happiness. And that, allegedly, is where our town got its name.’
‘You love it here, don’t you?’ Jack asked, as a prelude to the conversation he’d been avoiding for as long as possible.
She wiped more hair from her face. ‘I do. Don’t you?’
He half turned away from her and gazed across the heat-hazed countryside. ‘I know this will sound crazy, but I’m not, I’m not happy.’ Jack waved his hand across the valley. ‘All this is beautiful, but it’s not helping me. In fact, even out here on this incredible mountain top, I feel trapped.’
‘Trapped?’ queried Nancy, conscious that her husband was feeling awkward and was avoiding looking directly at her.
‘You said Tuscany would help me recover,’ he turned back to her, ‘but what you really meant was that it would help you. All this, it’s what you wanted, what you needed.’
‘That’s unfair!’ she snapped. ‘When you came out of hospital, you were completely wiped out, you were finished with it all, Jack.’
He shook his head and bit down on his lip. ‘No, Nancy, you were finished with it.