“In my brother Domenico’s time,” the old man said in a thin but steady voice, “all who wished to come were welcome on Isola de Grazia. The stranger was trusted no less than the relative.” He spoke more in sadness than in accusation, in a flowery textbook Italian that Gideon had seen in books but had never before heard spoken. It sounded beautiful.
Cesare hung his head respectfully. “I’m sorry, signore, I’m only following orders.”
The old man sniffed. “Vincenzo’s orders.”
“These are dangerous times, signore.”
“Terrible times,” said the old man, shaking his head.
“Hello, Grandfather,” Phil said, “it’s wonderful to see you looking well.”
The old man started. “No…” He peered hard at Phil. “Fili, is it you?”
Laughing, Phil ran up the steps. The old man opened his arms, letting the cane and the leash drop. He was trembling as Phil gently embraced him and they exchanged happy greetings.
Coming up the steps with Julie, Gideon picked up the cane, noticing that the silver knob atop it was a beautifully wrought feline paw “holding” what appeared to be a flower bud on a stem, some of the features worn blunt from years of use. When the old man let go of Phil, Gideon handed it to him.
“I thank you, signore,” de Grazia said, then looked eloquently at Phil.
Phil looked back at him for a couple of seconds before he got the message. “Oh. Right. Uh… Grandfather, may I present my good friends Dr. Professor Oliver and Mrs. Dr. Professor Oliver. Gideon and Julie, my respected grandfather, Signor Cosimo Giustiniano de Grazia.”
De Grazia bent his head to kiss Julie’s hand, then shook Gideon’s. “I’m very pleased to know you.”
“They’re Americans, Grandfather,” Phil said.
“Americans!” the old man cried. He gathered himself together, and in halting, heavily accented English, said: “You are here most welcome.”
“Molte grazie, signor de Grazia,” Julie said in equally deliberate Italian, and the old man mimed good-natured applause, and everyone laughed pleasantly.
“Ah,” said Cosimo. “Well. So.” Suddenly sobering, he grasped his grandson’s wrist. “Thank you for coming in this time of crisis.”
“I felt it was my duty to come, Grandfather,” Phil said. The old man nodded his approval, then turned his attention to the dog, which now had its leash in its mouth and was uttering plaintive whimpers.
“Yes, Bacco, we’ll go now,” he said, taking the leash and smiling once again. “My dog,” he told Gideon, “is a de Grazia through and through, a follower of tradition. At ten o’clock I am required to accompany him on his morning constitutional-twice around the villa, out to the swan fountain, and back. This I must do rain or shine, crisis or no crisis, visitors or no visitors. No variation is permitted.”
Another round of shaking hands, another graceful hand kiss for Julie, and a few more words in delightfully accented English for Julie-“Forgive, signora, I regret I no’ speak so well English.”-and man and dog shuffled slowly off.
“What an old charmer!” Julie said.
Phil laughed. “He is that, and I love the guy dearly. He pretty well raised me after my mom brought me here. That’s the one thing I thank my lousy father for-if he hadn’t walked out on us, I’d never have gotten to really know that great old man. Come on, let’s go meet the rest of the clan.” He rolled his eyes. “Might as well get it over with.”
They began walking toward the house. The entire courtyard, Gideon saw, was paved with smooth black, white, and rose-colored pebbles embedded in concrete in floral patterns. In the center was a circular mosaic of the same materials, sun-faded and very old, arranged into a larger version of the same feline paw and bud that was on Cosimo’s cane, plus a six-pointed star on either side.
“Family crest?” Gideon asked.
Phil nodded. “Lion’s paw holding a tea bud. The de Grazias are supposed to have brought tea to Italy. I forget what the lion has to do with it. Nobody takes that heraldic crap too seriously anymore. Well, except for my grandfather, of course, God bless him.”
“What was that he said about a crisis? Did we come at a bad time?”
Phil shrugged. “I doubt it. Nonno Cosimo isn’t always… well, he kind of lives in his own world-namely the pre-1946 world, before the dissolution of the aristocracy. Anyway, he’s well into his eighties, and sometimes, you know, the skylight leaks a little? In a charming way, of course. ‘Time of crisis’ probably means Bacco didn’t take his morning dump.”
“Fili, welcome to the island, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
It was spoken in Italian, with impatience-if not irritation-and it didn’t sound like much of a welcome. They turned to see a trim, wiry, gray-headed man dressed in a perfectly tailored cashmere sport coat; tie; pale, flawlessly pressed trousers; and tasseled loafers striding, with every appearance of authority, toward them. Ah, the boss man, Gideon thought. Vincenzo de Grazia, il padrone.
The corners of Phil’s mouth turned down just a little. “Hello, Vincenzo. When have I ever told you I was coming?”
Vincenzo uttered a flat, one-note laugh. “That’s true enough. But at a time like this? You might have let me know.” Gideon noticed that the usual Mediterranean embrace wasn’t in evidence.
“At a time like what? Is something the matter?”
“Are you serious? You didn’t know? Achille-” He stopped and peered at Gideon. “Who are these?” he said to Phil.
“These are my friends Professor and Mrs. Oliver,” Phil said.
“Americans?” Vincenzo asked, and on receiving nods, switched without comment to fluent English. “You’re welcome here, but we are having a problem. My son has been kidnapped.”
Phil gaped at him. “Achille?”
“Do I have another son?” Vincenzo said tartly.
“I’m sorry, I only-”
“I know, I know. I apologize, I’m a little tense. It’s good that you’re here, Fili. We’re about to hold a… you know, a consiglio. ..” He groped for the English word.
“A council,” Gideon supplied. He didn’t want to seem to be hiding from Vincenzo the fact that he had some Italian.
“A family council, that’s right.” Vincenzo said, unimpressed. “They’re all waiting in the gallery. When Cesare told me you’d come, I assumed that was why.”
“I didn’t know anything about it. But I’d like to sit in, if that’s all right. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
“Of course it’s all right. You’re one of the family, aren’t you?” Then, after another joyless laugh: “More than most of them, anyway.” He turned to Gideon. “In the meantime, perhaps you and your wife would care to-”
“I’m afraid we’ve picked a bad time for a visit,” Gideon said. “We’re sorry for your trouble, signore. I think it’d be best if my wife and I just went back to Stresa.”
But Vincenzo wouldn’t allow it. “Certainly not. It won’t take us long. Make yourselves comfortable in the breakfast garden. My man will see to refreshments. And the island is yours to explore. The animals are tame.”
“Grazie, signore,” Julie said.
“Jesus, Vincenzo, I really am really sorry about this,” they heard Phil saying as he was led back to the villa. “Is he all right? When did it happen? Jesus.”
SIX
The gallery, in which the consiglio was to be held, was a smallish room without windows on the ground floor, the faded, red-flocked walls of which were covered floor-to-ceiling with portraits of defunct de Grazias, some in medieval armor; some in frilly seventeenth-century courtiers’ garb, some in military uniforms or 1930s businessmen’s suits, and in one case, the reason for which was no longer known, in a balloon-trousered Turkish pasha’s outfit complete with turban and jeweled dagger. Furnished with the oldest, ugliest, and least comfortable furniture in the house-dark, slab-backed, hard-seated wooden chairs from the Italian Gothic (apparently a time when human anatomy was imperfectly understood)-and with a couple of massive, grim commodes to match, the gallery had been Vincenzo’s choice for familial consigli from the day he took the reins from his father. He frequently said it was because it imbued their councils with the fitting ambience of family tradition. But the prevailing view, in which Phil shared, was that he’d picked it because the uncomfortable seating guaranteed that the meetings would be brief. There was even a rumor that he’d had an inch taken off the front legs of all the chairs to help speed people on their way.