Antonia of Venice by Ellyn Peirson

Author:Ellyn Peirson [Peirson, Ellyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2014-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

XXXIII

There is nothing so elegant as the arcane purple of wisteria blooms against a buttery rock wall. Wisteria understands and drops its petals on the Istrian stone in love for the beholder. I was Orlando's beholder. [Antonia, 1748]

It was the evening of the twenty-fifth day of April in the year 1726, the fourth evening of her flight to Siena. The shadows were long. The air was still and perfumed.

Antonia walked toward Bologna's San Petronio, Lorenzo's words of caution still in her mind. On their journey to the old town, she had related the story of the Elder Bach. “Bach told me about the effect San Petronio had on Martin Luther. I want to sit in that sanctuary and see if I can feel why it affected the man who so altered history. You see, ultimately Luther had such impact on music. Bach is tremendously influenced by Luther. And now I am influenced by Bach.”

Lorenzo was puzzled by this woman, “Why? I understand the appreciation of his music. Although it is perhaps too Germanic, too thoroughly thought out. But why did Bach himself affect you?”

“He taught me what freedom is. He saw me as a separate individual.” Antonia deftly moved the conversation back to music. “Luther is the German who most influenced Bach's creativity. Martin Luther himself prayed inside San Petronia, Lorenzo! German Luther in Italy… more to the point, German Luther being affected in an Italian church! Perhaps by sitting in the sanctuary for a while, I'll begin to understand Lutheranism. Perhaps there is freedom in it. I'm very curious.”

Lorenzo had again reinforced the need to remain safe and anonymous. “Antonia, you push the edges of our plan too much at times. In so many ways, you know nothing of the dangers of this outside world. And you're entirely too trusting. This is not your safe quarters in Venice. This isn't the tiny, safe town that it appears to be.”

Antonia had touched Lorenzo's arm, “My life experiences might surprise you. If I have been sheltered, and I have, that shelter has taken me inside myself. I do know how to become one with my surroundings. Someday, I must tell you about Mantova. I know how to blend into a town like this.”

Now, with the hood of her black cape pulled up, the Venetian entered the church and proceeded in and out of the shadows of the flying buttresses and up to the altar. She knelt and let the feeling of the place engulf her. What was it that Luther had felt in this place? The profanity of Rome, of course. She had always sensed it, too. It was a holy profanity, if there were such a thing, a holy blending of Pagan faiths and Christianity. But she had learned as a young girl to slip beneath the surface, to touch truth. What did the exteriors of religion have to do with faith? Her faith was portable and palpable to all of her senses.

Antonia became aware of someone watching her. As she looked around, she saw a cloaked figure slip into a chapel.

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