I was in hospital then when I was informed about what happened to our army and I heard about this withdrawal that neutralized our long-standing efforts.
I am feeling better and you are not to worry about me.
This war now does not even scare me anymore. This defeat has made me aware that now, after so much suffering, we need to fight harder for our country not to neutralize the sacrifices made by many fellow soldiers. I hope it finishes soon so that I can come back to you all, but I have to do my full duty first.
Give the kids a kiss from me. A hug to you all.
Your Rudi.’
Maria raised her eyes from the letter and looked at Giovanni in dismay.
-Is Rudi injured? …Are we losing the war?-
They were getting the news only from the newspaper that Giovanni would buy when there was something particularly important, and that day all over the front page there were public announcements about the retreat of our army and about general Cadorna being replaced by Diaz for the High Command .
-I think so- he answered, looking worried- Things are worse that we would have expected.
Those words were said at last and were taken in in silence, as if to voice what everybody thought. Now every daily chore felt like a burden to carry and a relief at the same time, a way to get going and shake off that sense of oppression caused by endless hours.
1 Chapter IV
Agnese and Luciano
The twins, that was how they were called by the family, had turned five. To everyone they were ‘the twins’, not just because they were twins, but because they were connected by a knot that did not untie when they were born.
-The twins didn’t eat- the twins have a temperature- check where the twins are…- nobody ever called them by their names. The age difference with the older brothers had turned them into a little world of its own. Especially when the older siblings started going to school, they would be all day together, complementing each other so much that at times they would isolate themselves and people would forget about them. They would rarely argue and it was difficult that they would quarrel over swapping toys or roles that they were taking up.
-You do this- No, you do it- That’s fine, I’ll do it-
Or
-I play with this now…. And I’ll play with this, then we swap…- They would have accepted any compromise in order to be with each other. That wasn’t because they did not have any other friend, considering that they lived a little bit further out in the small town. The farmers would often bring their children with them and even thought they were a little shy, they would be in the house with them, but above all because the two of them would easily communicate, even without using words, without too many explanations. It was all quite simple.
Agnese was the chubbier of the two of them. She had been that way since their birth and growing up she would keep her build. She was a cheerful but not boisterous little girl, her big dark eyes would brighten up when she smiled, almost hidden by her chubby cheeks if she was laughing whole-heartedly. She loved to play not so much with her doll but with the doll that used to be Clara’s, because it belonged to her older sister who had given it up without regretting it. For her birthday her father brought back her a pram from the town fair, the image of her own pram when she was smaller. Now mum was looking after her baby girl taking her out for a walk in the porch, wrapped up in a little yellow quilt that auntie Maria had made for her. While she was walking around, she felt that everything was perfect: a home, a mum, a baby and daddy that was waiting for them.
Luciano was always daddy. He would ride back home on his wooden horse, to eat at a table where dainties made with mud, small stones and little pieces of paper were served, to say that everything tasted so good and to go back to work, on horseback, trotting or at a gallop according to the situation. A role that turned out to be rather marginal in the daily running of their house, where the most demanding tasks were carried out by the house mistress. While she was cleaning, cooking, going for walks, he had some free time to fill in, so he would say -What can I do now?- he asked.- -You work the land- and he would start digging lightly with a stick. After a little while, the farmer would get bored and would go back home saying that it was time to draw. So straight away they would drop the kitchen with the pots on the fire and the poor doll was left on her own in the middle of the porch.
The time they spent doing their drawings would fly by, especially for him. While they were at it, it was Agnese’s turn to ask –What now?- Without raising his eyes off the paper, lying down on the ground or kneeling down on a chair which was too low near the table, Luciano would give her some instructions and some advice.
He was a tall child, quite thin, and was told to look like his auntie Maria. His build was exactly the opposite of his sister’s and his dark and straight hair was cut quite short at the back of his head, he had some sort of a lock in the front that would stick up on top of his head and fall down onto his forehead. His face was not as cheerful as his sister’s. He did not have a frown but he always looked very interested in everything that was around him and his own way to understand what was going on keeping a distant attitude. There were times whereby he seemed to be totally dependent on Agnese, and other times when the little one would rely on her brother, and this naturally well-balanced relationship made them both confident and for their age, quite independent.
There was also another child they could often play with, Andrea, Lucia’s son.
Lucia was a young woman who the Barrieri family knew so well. She was just over her twenties but she started working in their farm at the age of six or seven with her father. Her mother died when she was giving birth so father and daughter have been both orphans since then, lost in a world that had not been very kind to them and did not look too promising for the future either. Lucia had not really been reared in her own home but in the neighbours’ who looked after her in turns, feeling sorry for her living conditions of extreme poverty and neglect. Her father was a good man, simple, a hard-working man, born in a world where working hard could just guarantee to make ends meet. He would get up at dawn and come back home when the sun had gone down; in the evening he could not do all the tasks usually carried out by a wife who wasn’t actually there. Their home was on the ground floor, there was a long corridor that was getting some light only from the front door and the double bed was at the bottom, a curtain would separate it from the rest. Winter nights were very long and cold and the fireplace was often off. When darkness fell, rather than lighting up a candle, they would go to bed, so their meal was just one and they would feel the hunger in the morning. The mattress was made with dry leaves which would creak every time they moved about in the bed. Lucia’s little body, wrapped around her father’s, was still, crushed under the heavy cover and there she would feel finally at home. As soon as she was old enough, she went to the land with him. She never went to school and nobody ever came looking for her. The Barrieri family was the first family she worked for and she stayed with them ever since, growing in the fields year after year.
The first time she went into the big house she was about five. She was due to get the water to bring to the men who were working nearby. She had always seen that house from outside, it was a two-storey house, with the curtains at the windows and the big front door. It looked like a castle to her. There was not anything as beautiful in the small town. She was a bit scared getting near it, holding the jug covered with broomcorn to keep the water cool. She was still, not too sure whether to push the half-closed door open or bang that big iron ring which ended with the head of a lion. A tall and austere woman came out of the semi-darkness of the corridor and saw her right in front of her after opening the door wide.
-What are you doing here?-
The woman bent forward to her, she put a hand on her head. She was smiling and from a close distance her face was not as stern as it appeared earlier on. Lucia’s heart was throbbing like a crazy horse up until a little while before, but she calmed herself down a little at that touch. She held out the jug keeping her eyes down, and she managed to say:
-Here