SCATTERED STONES 4
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"SCATTERED STONES" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
SCATTERED STONES
by Andrej Koymasky © 2020
finished writing 24 March 2003
translated into English by the author
text kindly reviewed by Nick A.
CHAPTER 4
Homine cando faeddat, e non abbaidat in cara, homine traitore
A man talking and not looking in the face, is a traitor
Ettore took the road early in the morning, shortly after sunrise. He was accustomed to travel; he did it for years, looking for money that was never enough. But this time was different from all the others - if he had not found it within a week they would put the house up for auction as well as the last field that was left to them. It would have been the end for the whole family, the end for all the Dore.
But this time he felt happy and full of confidence - the rich acquaintance of Marcus Laconi would lend him the money, so he would pay the debts, and perhaps would have enough to cancel the mortgage, and if any money remained he could buy a new suit for Renzino and another for Damianu. Yes, he said happily to himself, thinking about the money and about Damianu, his life would change, would finally have a positive turn.
He rode for a while, went down into the valley then climbed on the other side. He arrived in a village and stopped at the tavern for a drink and to feed the horse. He would not stay long; he was in a hurry to reach the Laconi home. But in the tavern he met Don Pasquale Obinu, a wealthy landowner in the area. He had asked him too for a loan, but the nobleman had refused with some excuse.
Don Pasquale greeted him jovially. Ettore did not want to talk to him, but pretended to see him with pleasure.
"What brings you here, Don Ettore? What a pleasure to see you and see you in good health!" the man said.
"I stopped for just a moment," replied the young man with a broad smile, "I promised a friend that I would visit. You know, he asked me to give him a hand." Ettore invented.
"And how is business?" the nobleman asked with a mischievous smile, trying to make the question sound casual.
Ettore did not want to give him satisfaction, so answered: "Fortunately the problems are over! Donna Tana gave us her stocks, so we have arranged everything. And indeed, for this I'm going to see my friend, to lend him money. You know, if you do not help a friend, you are not worthy of being considered a good Christian, " said the young man to remind him of the loan he had refused him.
"I welcome it. Yes, you are right, when you can, you have a duty to lend a hand to others," said Don Pasquale, not at all disturbed by this allusion.
They talked some more, and then Ettore greeted him, took his horse and went back on the road. In the evening he arrived at the village of Laconi. But after meeting Don Pasquale he did not feel as cheerful as he had before. He thought of Damianu, and said he was really lucky to have his complete dedication and availability - he would never separate from him, he was a delightful and pleasant companion too. Better even than a wife, because Damianu did not claim anything for himself.
He crossed the streets of the village leading the horse to step. The country was sad and gray like his, he thought, like everything in that so beautiful but so desperate land; so poor and yet so proud. That land twisted and as wild as the souls of its inhabitants. Dark or lovely as turn the rays of the sun, which give life, yet burn. These were the thoughts of Ettore when he arrived in front of the house of the Laconi.
Marcus was not home, but the old mother and his five unmarried sisters, the youngest of whom was already three years older than Ettore, welcomed him with open sympathy.
"Marcus is in our fields and will return tomorrow morning," said the old woman, tall and wiry, with a big hooked nose, but with bright eyes like those of a young girl. "He said you would come, Don Ettore. Sit down, our house is your house."
Ettore sat in a chair in the dining room.
"How are your relatives? All right, I hope," said the mother, then added: "You have to eat, I guess. Wait until we prepare something," and gave a few dry orders to her daughters.
Two girls quickly disappeared into the kitchen, with a slight rustle of skirts. The other three sisters and the mother were standing around him, while the old one asked news about all the members of his family, starting from the oldest and ending with Damianu and Renzino.
After dinner Ettore said he was going for a walk - the talk with the old woman and the glances of the five sisters had made him sad and angry. He needed to breathe a little. The country now seemed even darker and dirtier than when he arrived there. It had to be his mood that made him see everything even more ugly than it actually was.
"What an idea I had to come here? It seems that everyone is even more miserable than in Arbatax. Wherever can I find some money?" Ettore wondered, feeling a heavy heart. "And who can ever be that rich woman Marcus has told me about? I couldn't even see a decent house, not even looking for it with a lantern."
And besides all, the glances of the five sisters of Marcus, which seemed to devour him with their eyes, which saw him as a possible or an impossible husband. Those eyes had deeply disturbed him. They gave him the impression of seeing the hounds when they scent the prey and await only the order of the master to follow it and force it into a corner from which escape is impossible. Wait for the master to come and kill it for his own enjoyment, even more than to bring it on the table for the family.
He thought of his Damianu, and wondered what life he could be able to offer that sweet boy if he could not find the money. At this thought he felt a tear trembling on the corner of his eye. He felt like the most miserable of men. What a man was he if he could not even provide for the welfare of his family? What a man, if he did not even know how to ensure a future for his son, and also to the boy who had given him so much, with such confidence and with such absolute devotion? He returned to the home of the Laconi, without being too late to disturb them. The sisters of Marcus had prepared him a room - on the small table in the corner between the door and the window was an oil lamp and a glass of water on a saucer under two bobbin lace doilies, surely made by one of the five sisters. On the other side of the door there was a wrought iron tripod with the bowl and the crock pot, a mottled silvered mirror with a towel as white as snow, with the edges decorated with insertions of two striped bobbin laces. Given the good night, he closed himself in the bedroom. As he took off his clothes, he felt like seeing again the eyes of the five sisters on him and felt a cold shiver. Blew out the flame of the lamp and put down the glass tube. In the dark, groping, he found the bed and climbed on top of it - the sheets weighed on him, cold and moist. There he lay down and covered his muscular body with a blanket rolled up at the foot of the bed, feeling a deep sense of unease.
He had trouble falling asleep, even though the heat of his body had formed around his skin a cocoon of warmth, held by light blanket with traditional designs in green, brown and white triple-woven cloth, made on the house loom.
But that was an alien warmth, very different from the healthy and strong heat that he would have felt if he could have shared the bed with his Damianu. The eyes wide open in the dark, he thought that he had never been able to share his bed with the sweet boy and regretted it.
Sleep finally took pity on him and made his eyes and limbs feel heavy, and Ettore fell asleep without even realizing he was slipping into oblivion, at least for a few hours.
Ettore got up the next morning, feeling even more tired and sad than the night before. He washed at the bowl with a piece of homemade soap, dried himself with the linen towel, got dressed and went downstairs. He had just finished breakfast, served at table by the five sisters, who quietly and overly attentive poured him coffee, handed him the sugar, slices of bread, honey and a basket of walnuts - each of the five handing him a different thing... when Marcus came home. Marcus came home tired and grumpy and when he read the sadness in the face of his friend, thought he should be in terrible condition and felt the gulf that separated him from Ettore - in his friend had died long ago that spark of life, he was a loser, a defeated man. He was surely not the worker full of energy and ready for anything that was Marcus, he was not even the cheerful companion of revelry of a time long before. The man looked at his guest and felt compassion, but at the same time he wondered what he could do about it. He thought it had been unwise to say that he could introduce him to a rich woman who could lend him money - how and whenever could Ettore return it? Never! And he could not get in a bad light by recommending a friend who would never be able to honour its debts. "I have thought a lot about your problem, Ettore. The best solution is that you make a good marriage," he said when they were alone, "You're young, you're a handsome man and you are healthy... maybe a rich woman a bit aged, could be happy to settle down with you, bringing her dowry."
Ettore felt a cold shiver down his spine, and thought that this invitation had been made not to introduce him to a rich woman, but for him to marry one of his sisters, to offer him a noose, to ensnare him.
"Look, Marcus, my friend, we are men and you can understand me," he said, thinking of his Damianu, "The fact is that I have a secret affair with… with a woman. Maybe I will never marry her, but I promised never to abandon her and I cannot and I will not break my oath. We love each other very much, but fate keeps us from getting married. I knew her already, but I never thought to make her my own. After my wife died, I found myself alone with her and the desire won over us, swept us both. She did not expect it more than I did but she gave me her soul and body, totally. She entirely gave herself to me like the earth is permeated by water, like the wood burns from the fire. No, I cannot desert her! " "Ettore, my friend, this is your damnation," Marcus said, shaking his head, "you're weak, you do not know how to take your life in your hand..."
"Marcus, do you think I had not always known it? I know, I know," said Ettore, "Even from the days when we attended school. I stopped studying or else who knows who I might be today. I lost my way, and no one can any longer show it to me. Everything I've undertaken has been stopped before it could flourish, before it could bear fruit. "
Marcus did not understand what his friend meant, but one thing was even clearer than before - he had made a mistake to invite him, to tell him of his friend rich that might be ready to lend him money. Ettore would never be able to relieve the moral and material squalor in which he had fallen. He wondered what to do.
He told his friend that he had first to do an errand, then he would take him to meet his acquaintance, and that anyway it was better to go to visit her later. "You know, the woman is old, in the evening she never falls asleep soon so she often sleeps until late morning. You wait in the house. Before long I'll come back and it will be the right time to visit her. "
The man left in a hurry. Ettore felt an impulse that he would not even have been able to explain. When Marcus was out, he followed him from afar, ready to take refuge under the arch of a door if Marcus looked back. But the man walked straight, turning the narrow streets of the village a couple of times, without ever looking back, until he stopped in front of a house that Ettore had not seen before because he had come to the village by another route. It was a beautiful home, rich and in good condition. Marcus pulled a little chain and the ringing of a bell was heard. The door opened and his friend slid inside it. Then Ettore went back and sat on the stone bench that was outside the house of the Laconi - he did not want to enter, to be again besieged by the five unmarried sisters of his friend.
He did not have to wait long. It was after about an hour when Marcus came back. Ettore immediately noticed that his friend was no longer tired with a worried expression as before, but that he now seemed happy and relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off him.
"Come, my friend, I think at this time we will not disturb Donna Rachele," he said with a determined air.
Ettore got up and followed him. As they went through the same streets he had traversed a little earlier, following his friend in secret, his heart grew heavy. And when Marcus stood in front of the beautiful house and pulled the chain, the ringing of the bell rang in the heart of Ettore as like a death knell.
A servant received them in silence, and seated them in an elegant sitting room. Shortly after an aged woman, short and a plump, came wearing black clothes decorated with lace that was also black. The two young men rose to their feet.
"Oh, Marcus, good to see you! How's your mom? And your sisters?" asked the woman.
"Well, thank the Lord. And you, Donna Rachele?"
"Not bad, not bad... better than the last time I had the pleasure of meeting you," she said with a friendly smile and gestured the two men to sit.
The woman, when informed why Marcus had brought Don Ettore to her, said that unfortunately she had no money available, that she was very sorry.
Ettore left the woman's house with a heavy heart, with despair in his soul. "Marcus went to the old woman to tell her to deny me the money," he said to himself. "Why did he do this to me? What good was it to invite me here? He wanted to humiliate me and really wanted just give me one of his sisters, then. He has betrayed me; he should not behave like that. He had to tell me then what his real intentions were."
He left almost immediately, not wanting to stop to eat with the Laconi; he would not have been able to gulp down the food. He resumed his way back home slowly, thinking about what to do at this point. Yes, he knew what he had to do. He just had to do everything in the right way.
He was immersed in his gloomy thoughts, when he heard somebody call him. He stopped his horse and looked - at the side of the road there was a tall, stout, strong, thick man holding a big boy by the arm. Ettore recognized the shepherd Primus that people accused of having killed his son. "Don Ettore, look, look here!" the man thundered, and full of indignation, shook the boy by the arm, whose eyes were fixed on the ground, "Look, my son who turned the whole island to seek his fortune, the wretched boy. But when he saw that life out there was worse than with his father, he returned home - behold, I now bring him to the police, then to the parish church, then to the mayor as everyone should know... everyone should know that a father can not kill the blood of his blood. And everyone will know it, when they all got a good look at him, I will tell him, in front of everyone, yes sir, you can go to hell, you are no longer my son! " "Primus... you're a good man, and also very good. I understand you... but... give him another chance, give him hope. Help him find his way, before it's too late, do not let him be a failure... "
"It's he, is he, Don Ettore, not me, who makes himself a failure. And he should be ashamed, he should kill himself for the shame!" exclaimed the man red in the face. "I will not even raise a hand to him, it would just be a wasted effort. From now on I will only think about myself and my business, not to this wretched boy."
Ettore felt sorry for the lad, but his problems were too serious to linger on those thoughts.
"You go back to our village?" Ettore then asked the man, "Are you going back?"
"Yes, Don Ettore. Do you need something?"
"Then," said Ettore getting down from his horse, "you must bring a note that I will write now, and give it to Matteo, but only to him, and so that nobody, I repeat, nobody sees you give it to him. Especially Damianu must not see it. Do you understand? "
"All right, Don Ettore, I will do as you say," replied the man intimidated by the intense tone full of urgency with which the other had spoken.
Ettore pulled from his pocket a pencil stub and a piece of paper and wrote upon it: "Matteo, for the love of God and our Father, you have to take Damianu and Renzino with you, and take them to Ziu Cosimu's place, before it becomes night and you have to sleep there. It is extremely important! Do not tell anyone of this note. Do not betray me, at least not you. You'll understand the reason by tomorrow morning. I beg you, Matteo, I count on you, do not betray me and do what I ask you! Your brother Ettore." Ettore knew that Primus and his son could not read so gave him the note just folded in two. The man put it in his pocket, assured him that he would deliver it to Matteo without anyone seeing him, and almost dragging his son took the road towards Arbatax.
Ettore turned his horse, returned to the village he had crossed just before and went to an inn. He sat at a table and soon after went to the innkeeper asking him what he might need. Ettore ordered a good meal and some good wine. He ate and drank plenty and the more he ate and the more he drank, the more he felt confident he has found the right solution to all the problems of the Dore family. The house, at least, would not have to be auctioned.
After eating he paid the innkeeper; then, went out to walk around the village, leading the horse by the bridle behind him. The more he walked the more he felt lighter. The decision he had just taken put on him a kind of strange euphoria. "The problems of the Dore are over, over!" he repeated in his mind and a strange smile hovered over his beautiful face.
"Marcus says I am weak - he will have to reconsider it, my word! He will see that I'm strong, stronger than he , that nothing can scare me," he said and felt almost euphoric.
Ettore then went to the druggist and asked him something to sleep - for a bit of time he could not sleep, he explained. He paid for the bundle with the powder, then asked how much he had to take each evening, if it was really effective, if he could take it dissolving it in the wine without the wine losing its good taste nor the powder its effectiveness... and, being reassured, went out quietly. Walking, from time to time he gave a kick to a stone, and was amused to see how far it could go, bouncing and rolling on the bumpy unpaved road of that little village forgotten by God. He looked at the sky of such an intense blue as to hurt the eyes and smiled. He looked at the emerald sea crisscrossed by trails of light foam in eternal motion and felt light. He looked at the forest that covered the slopes of the mountains and was astonished by its beauty. Looked at the rocks that jutted strong and powerful towards the sky and felt he was made of their very essence. Then, when the sun began to dive into the sea, colouring it with a long red strips similar to the runner which extends in the church for the big holidays and that from the portal leads to the high altar, he rode agilely on his horse, spurred it trotting, galloping agilely and lightly on the good leather saddle that belonged to his grandfather, then his father, to his older brother and now to him, he went out to Arbatax, toward home.
Arriving at home, he found Donna Martina waiting at the gate: "Hi, am I in time for dinner?" he asked cheerfully.
Martina looked at him wondering what good news he could bring to be so cheerful: "Of course you're on time, Ettore. We were about to put it on the table."
"Very good. Grandpa? Your father?" he asked entering the house.
"They're already sitting at the table," the woman replied, shutting the gate, while he tied his horse.
"And Renzino? Why he is not here to meet me as usual?" he asked.
"Matteo and Damianu went with him to the fold of Ziu Cosimu."
"Oh yes, and why?" asked Ettore pretending to be a bit surprised, to see what excuse Matteo had invented.
"Matteo said that Ziu Cosimu needed a hand, and then Renzino wanted to go with them." Martina answered removing the pot from the fire and entered the house, followed by Ettore.
"And Damianu is with them?" asked the young man.
"Yes, I told you."
They sat at the table too. Ettore was cheerful and talkative.
"What news do you bring us?" asked Don Antonio as they began to eat.
"Not now, not now. Tomorrow morning I will tell you and you will see that everything will be solved." Ettore answered cheerfully biting with gusto a piece of lamb with myrtle.
"The woman Marcus spoke to you about, made you the loan?" asked Ziu Santo a little surprised.
"Much better, much better. But hold your curiosity until morning. When Matteo, Renzino and Damianu come back, the whole country will know that the Dore will have nothing to fear for the future."
>From the bed Donna Tana croaked: "And what in the hell can this secret be? I guess that's more of your crap. You're nothing but a wimp, what good can the Dore get from one like you?"
"Come on, Donna Tana, do not be always sour like vinegar." Martina scolded her in a gentle tone, willing to defend her brother- in-law without offending the old woman too much.
"No, let her say." Ettore happily intervened. "You'll see that tomorrow morning Donna Tana will no longer have reason to speak ill of me, when it will be known what I have in store for everyone of you!"
"You can at least give us a clue, Ettore?" asked Ziu Santo pouring some wine into the glass.
"A clue, Ziu Santu? A clue... Why not?" Ettore said with a grin, "There will be a big party, and the whole village will hasten to see it, from all over the village, I guarantee it. In fact, I tell you, maybe even from the neighbouring villages they will run and speak of the Dore for a long time, as they have never spoken of it. "
"A big Party? A wedding?" asked Don Antonio cutting a piece of cheese, trying to interpret the joy of his nephew.
"Tomorrow... tomorrow morning the whole village will know... Sleep on it tonight and have a little patience. You too, Donna Tana, you too sleep on it, as it's worth it!" said the young man turning to look at the old asthmatic woman.
Donna Tana, sitting on her bed, looked at him with a grim expression and shook her head: "The wine has gone to his head!" she commented in a harsh voice.
After dinner the two old people went to sit for a while outside the house and Ettore, also taking a chair, went to sit outside with them. Don Antonio and Ziu Santo were amazed - it was quite unusual that Hector would join the two old people.
They talked for a while then Martina went out a moment to say good night and asked, "Who sleeps tonight near Donna Tana? Do you want me to sleep there?"
"No way, no, no, I'll sleep there, this time. After all I've never done it, it's time for me to care for her!" answered Ettore. "You go to sleep, you'll be tired from the day."
Shortly thereafter, the two old men went in and retired to their rooms. Then Ettore went into the house, stood beside the bed and asked Donna Tana if she needed anything, but the old woman was already snoring loudly.
The young man passed in the hallway and sat on the step, in the yard, watching the dark shadows of the trees, the shape of the hedge that hid the tool shed, and the black sky studded with stars that seemed to be tears of ice.
The night progressed and the village was relaxing into sleep, only Ettore was still awake, sitting on his step. He had never felt so good. The only thing that would make the night perfect would have been to have there with him Damianu, or rather, not there with him, but in his arms.
"I never had him with me in my bed," he said, "I've never been able to give him what I wanted."
He looked again at the sky, trying to count the stars as he did as a child, and shortly after surrendering to sleep.
"I did not even say to him that I love him!" he whispered to the silence of the night.
A strong emotion took hold of him and a tear trembled in the corner of his eye.
"Damianu... oh my Damianu... my... my... my..." he whispered to the silence of his heart.
And he saw like in a dream that day in May, up there, just below the "tomb of the giant" when for the first time the boy became his. And he thought he could feel again the sweetness with which the boy and the man grabbed each other, the readiness with which he had donated to him his soul and body, the manly strength with which he had accepted the pain, the wholeness with which he repaid him with his love. And he realized with admiring wonder that up there actually it had been he who Damianu had seized !
It was night and the whole town was now in the arms of sleep.
The church bell that sounded the tocsin suddenly broke the stillness of the night.
People were torn by dreams, which compensated them for the fatigues of the day and of the life and he jumped out of bed, got up from the bunks.
"Fire... Fire..."
They all ran, some with buckets of water, with axes, some others just to look at the tall flames that rumbling devoured the old "Domus Dore." The flames were high and strong, fierce and roaring, and when at dawn only a dense black smoke rose from the ruins of the house already collapsed on itself, nobody had been able to save anything or anyone.
The people, tired and still stunned, walked slowly to their homes, quietly commenting on the terrible misfortune that, as someone remarked in a low voice, had put an end to the whole series of misfortunes that in recent years seemed to have ruthlessly fallen on the ancient and noble family.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5
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