Pilgrimage To Norcia free porn video

Pilgrimage to Norcia


It was a cold, gray spring afternoon in the town of Ortona. A light rain was sprinkling over the people assembled at the cemetery behind the church, presenting their last respects to the widow Maria Pinetti. Not many people had come; The priest, who was here on duty, the coffin carriers, who would have much preferred to stay at home around the cozy fire, a few neighbors, mostly women, and a boy, Maria's only son.

As the coffin was lowered into the grave, and the priest said a prayer requesting the Lord to take this good soul into His eternal reigns, the boy lost the last control he had so fiercely exerted over his emotions. A tear rolled over his cheek, while he struggled to keep his eyes on his mother's last dwelling. He shivered, and more tears followed. He stepped to the very border of the grave, and let a single red flower sink over the wooden box. He had plucked it before the funeral, and carried it close to his heart. And then, there was no way to keep playing the stoic man. He started weeping, helplessly.

One of the women slowly stepped forward, pulled her handkerchief, took the boy by his hand, wiped the water out of his face - but more followed. She gently pulled him back, turned him away from the grave, as the men shoveled dirt into the hole. Tommaso could not see it, but he heard the noise made by the damp dirt clumps as they fell on his mother's coffin. He wept more, as the neighbor lady pressed his head into her bosom, attempting to comfort him.

The priest watched the scene. The ways of the Lord are so mysterious. Why had this fair lady been chosen to die? Truly she had had no easy life. Her husband had died just three years after she married. He had been a good man too, but affected by weak health ever since he got a serious illness when he was still a boy. The old priest had known him since birth, yes, he had actually baptized him. After his death, Maria was left alone to provide for herself and her two little c***dren. He had baptized the two babies too, Cosima and Tommaso. Maria worked as much as anyone, but in these difficult times, with poor harvests, few fish and scarce money, the little family had been in severe hardship. Then, the Lord saw fit to take Cosima into His reigns. She died just six years old. Mysterious ways, indeed. Some years later, Maria had become sick too. She could not work as much as before, she tired very easily, and finally was bedbound. No doctor could help her. She slowly faded away, surrounded by the love of her son, the helping hands of the good neighbors, but at the same time she was forced to sell off all her belongings, and finally take a loan on the house, in order to get something to eat for her son and herself. And now she was dead, and Tommaso was yet another orphan in this world. One more among so many.

The priest looked over to Tommaso, and the lady comforting him. He knew the boy well. He was among the best students at school, even if he missed often because of his rather frail health. He went to confession from time to time, but what he had to confess was never worth a real penitence. He sang in the church choir, and the organist was very fond of Tommaso's musical abilities. Would this boy die early too? He didn't think so. This boy had a powerful mind, and God values that. But then, the Lord's ways are mysterious...

His sacred duty done, the priest was now thinking about more earthly problems. He walked over to the two. "Tommaso", he said, "as far as I know, you mother, God be kind to her soul, was forced to take loans on the house. Do you know anything about this?" The boy cleared his throat, and answered "Yes, father, I know. The house is no longer ours. The loansman already told me that I have to leave today." "TODAY???" the priest asked in shock. "Don't they have mercy with a poor orphan?"

That word struck Tommaso. The tears again flooded his eyes, and he felt the lady caress his shoulder. "Where will you stay? Do you have any idea what will be of you now?" the priest inquired. "Father..." Tommaso cleared his throat again. "Do you think anyone may give me work? In any case, I think it's over with the school for me... and...", he sobbed, "...with the choir... and... everything!" Now he wept aloud.

The priest, obviously moved, now addressed all the women, who had gathered around them. "Daughters, can anyone of you provide for this boy till he is old enough to make his own life?" Silence. The priest looked into each face. He saw pity, compassion, but still no one offered help. The woman holding the boy then said, barely audible: "Father, I would so much like to help this boy, but I have four c***dren myself, and we can barely make it." The priest tried to persuade her: "Guiseppina, where there are six mouths, a seventh one is not noticeable." He tried a mild joke. "Much less one belonging to a boy as thin as this one. I don't think you eat very much, Tommaso, do you?" The boy looked into the priest's eyes, and said "Father, I have never gotten very much to eat."

That was clear. "Did you eat anything at all today?" "No, sir." "When did you eat for the last time?" "Two days ago. Before my mother ..." He could not say the word, but started to weep again.

The priest thought for a moment, then raised his voice. "Tommaso, for now you come with me. I'm not rich, but at least you will get some food. And tomorrow we will see what we can do with you, yes?" This was the first hope Tommaso had seen in days. His face lit up. "Thanks, father! God will surely take note of this!" The priest smiled. Little rascal! Lend him a finger, and he takes the entire hand!

They didn't have to walk far. The priest's house was right next to the church. While Tommaso looked around the room, the priest went into the kitchen and told Lucia, his housekeeper, to prepare food for three instead of two. A while later, he had the pleasure to watch how much happiness a good, abundant meal can give a hungry boy. Tommaso seemed to be forgetting his woes over the roasted chicken, pasta and salad. It was Lucia who brought the issue up again: "Tommaso, may I ask you an impolite question?" The boy smiled. "Sure", he said. Disregarding the priest's warning looks, the woman asked: "Tell us, did you know that your mother was terminally ill?"

A chilling sensation flooded the room. The priest just said: "Lucia, please!" The boy choked, coughed, then put down the fork and said, in low voice: "Yes. I knew it for a long time. But I kept hoping for a miracle." "She is in heaven now, and does not suffer anymore, Tommaso. That is good, isn't it? At least it is better than feeling as she did the last weeks", the priest said. Tommaso swallowed, fighting his tears. Then he took up the fork again and went on finishing his dinner. Lucia may have a gift for hurting people, but surely she did cook well. It had been a very long time since he last ate anything as good. No wonder the priest was almost round! What if the priest could sense what he was thinking, in his very own house? The thought of it cheered him up, and he enjoyed the rest of the chicken. For the first time in months, he was no longer feeling hungry. It was strange; he had grown so accustomed to that nagging sensation in his belly, that now he almost missed it!

Tommaso slept on the couch in the priest's study room. He slept through the night, dreamlessly. The next morning he went to school, where he could notice very clearly how his schoolmates shyly kept distance from him. So much so, that during the recess he approached his best friend: "Luca, my mother's illness was not contagious. Why does nobody talk to me?" The other boy grabbed Tommaso's hand. "No one knows how to talk to you now. Neither do I, really." He pressed his friend's hand. "Is it right if I treat you like always?" Tommaso almost had to laugh. "Of course, Luca, I am the same as ever. A little more lonely, that's all." He returned the handshake. "Now I need you more than ever. Friends forever?" "Friends forever!", Luca answered. Then he turned around. "Hey guys, come! He does not bite!" Tommaso laughed. That was just what he liked so much about Luca.

After a well-tasting and abundant lunch at the priest's home, Tommaso went one last time to his home. The neighbors had taken back everything his mother had borrowed from them, which was quite a lot. The watchman was overlooking the place and checking that no one took the chance to steal. When he saw Tommaso coming, he took him aside. "Boy, I guess you know that this house is no longer yours. I'm sorry." Tommaso knew it very well. "I'm just coming to pick up my clothes, sir. I know that nothing else belongs to me now." The watchman let him in, and Tommaso quickly made a bundle of his few clothes. Then he walked through the house, one last time. There was a small painting of his mother. He took it, opened his bundle, put the miniature inside, and tied the bundle again. This was his. His toys were still there. He did not take them. He was twelve years old, what in the world could he do now with the toys he got at age four? And after that time, there never had been any money for toys. But then he returned to his room. He had a small stack of music, the things he sang in the church choir. He made a roll of those brownish papers, and packed it into his bundle. He knew that music inside and out, but the sheets would remember him never to forget his time as a choirboy. From now on, he would probably get no time to go on singing. He would have to work for a living, and wages were very low, specially for k**s. He would have to spend all his time working, just for survival.

Tommaso left the house that had been home for all of his life. The watchman had a short look at his bundle, and the boy shivered. If the man checked the bundle, and found the painting and the music? Probably they weren't rightfully his anymore! But the guard only said: "That's all you have? It's not much!" "We were poor people, sir." The guard patted Tommaso's back. "You may be poor, k**, but you are clever. And cleverness makes it all in this world. I'm sure you will grow up to be someone well regarded, and rich!" The boy smiled. "Thanks, sir!" But he had no idea how he would accomplish that.

As he returned to the priest's home, he saw the man in the garden, weeding. "May I help you?" he asked. "Ah, there you are!" said the priest. "I was waiting for you." Tommaso reviewed all his actions of the day. Whenever his mother had been 'waiting for him', it had been something bad. "What did I wrong?" he asked timidly. The priest laughed. "Nothing, k**, it's just that we have a meeting with Mr. Roletto. It's about your future." The boy's face lit up. Mr. Roletto was the church musician. He played the organ, taught the singing boys, and also he had a few students of the organ and the violin. If he was involved in his future, then it smelled of music. "Great!" he called out. Then, more dimly, he added: "Father, can..." He felt a clump forming in his throat. He swallowed, and went on: "Can I stay at your home? Live with you?" There it was. It had come out. But the priest laughed. "What do you like more about my home, Tommaso, the closeness of God or the good food?" Tommaso had always been honest, so he had no choice but to answer: "Lucia cooks very well." Now the priest almost rolled over in laughter. Tommaso already considered this a won battle, when the cold shower came: "You can't stay here, k**. This town is full of old ladies who love to gossip. What do you think would they say when they learn that their old priest is now living with a young boy?"

Tommaso could not see the logic. What was wrong about it? "Father, they would know that you are a good man, who helps orphans. What's bad about living with me? You, Lucia, and me, we would almost be something like a family!"

"Come into the house", said the priest. He went in, and the k** followed. Once inside, and behind closed doors, the old man explained, in simple words that a c***d could understand, why it was not acceptable that a lone man sheltered a young boy, in a small town whose dwellers loved to invent stories. Tommaso had never heard about such things. He made big, round eyes. When the priest was ready, Tommaso only said "I would never have thought that people can be so mean." "They can," said the priest, "and they are. No one will start gossiping because you stay here for one or two days after loosing your home. But if I keep you here, even the Holy Father in Rome will get to hear horror stories about me." And after a pause he added: "Even more so considering that you are a very handsome boy. Did anyone ever tell you that?" Tommaso blushed deeply. "No, never. Well, except for my mother, but all mothers say that to their sons." The priest smiled. "Good. But keep this in mind: If ever a man tells you that you are handsome, be careful. Such a man could do you great damage. And now let's go over to the church. Mr. Roletto must be waiting for us."

As they entered the sacred building, warm organ music welcomed them. Roletto was improvising, and this usually sounded better than when he was playing an existing piece. He had a great talent for getting great music out of the limited capabilities of the small organ in Ortona. The organist finished his music with one of those chords that went through marrow and bones, then came down from the organ loft and met the two. They went into the adjoining meeting room, and the priest quickly came to the point: "Tonio, this boy is now an orphan, and homeless since yesterday. He spent the night at my place, but I can't keep him. You told me you had an idea what to do with him. Let it loose."

The musician smiled. "Yes, I do have an idea. But I don't know if you will approve it." "Just tell us", said the priest, while the boy listened how they decided his future. But Mr. Roletto turned to him. "Tommaso, I think I have never told you, but at this time you are the best singer in our choir." The boy nodded. "I know that. I love to sing, that's all. Most of the other boys don't really like it." "How do you know that you sing well?" the priest asked. "Simply because I get all solos. That's a way of telling me that you like my singing, Mr. Roletto!" The musician laughed, and the priest smiled too. But then Roletto continued: "But you cannot know one other thing. I have teached several choirs in my life, and I have done so for twenty years. And you are the best boy singer I have heard so far."

Tommaso took a while to swallow that. Was this man k**ding him? So he only replied "Are you sure?" The musician vehemently said: "Of course I'm sure! Tommaso, you have gold in your throat! Yes, I know that you love singing, and that's very important. People who don't love it can never become good singers. But the love for music is only one part. The other is the voice. And you are gifted with a very, very good voice!" He paused a while, then he went on: "Tommaso, you should really take up singing as a profession. If I understand you well, then you will enjoy it more than any other job, and with that voice of yours you will earn loads of money."

While Tommaso let it sink in, the priest became practical: "And what route would the boy have to follow? A music school in Rome, or what? And who would pay for that?"

Roletto explained. There were boarding schools in Rome which specially teached music and singing, but also gave their pupils a very good base in languages and theology. These schools accepted a certain number of orphans completely free of charge, while the other students had to pay. Even better, admission to some of them was based mainly on a voice test, which Tommaso would pass with flying colours! The boy felt his heart thumping loudly. He knew of those schools. And he also knew what Roletto, with a more somber face, said now: "There is just one quirk to all this beauty. Tommaso, your voice is soprano. If it changes, you have to start working anew on a tenor voice, and it will probably not be nearly as good as your soprano. So you would have to go to a surgeon who can make your soprano voice stay intact for many years."

Tommaso's throat felt dry. He knew all this. He had daydreamed about being a victim of such a surgeon, and then becoming a famous singer. He had felt cold shivers running back his spine when imagining himself in that situation. But he always thought that his voice was good only by local church choir standards. And now, so suddenly, this all could become real. In raspy voice he said: "I know all this too. That surgeon would cut off my balls, and I could never have c***dren of my own." "Exactly!", said the organist. "My God, oh my God!" was the only words the priest managed to bring out.

After a while of deep silence, Tommaso asked: "Mr. Roletto, when you said that my voice was the best you have heard, did you really mean that it is good enough to do this?" The organist quietly answered: "Tommaso, just hearing you talk confirms it! In every word! Have you never noticed that when you sing Palestrina or Victoria, no one talks or moves, and even the birds listen? Have you never seen that I can't hold back my tears when you sing? Do you think that all this would happen with just any voice? Boy, I mean it! You are the best I have heard, and those are not few. If anyone deserves to get a scholarship in Rome, it's you. And if ever a sacrifice for the sake of music is well justified, then it's your accepting that procedure that will preserve your voice!"

The priest shook his gray head. "Tommaso, you don't need to go along that path. There are dozens of other professions you could do as well." The boy countered: "Can I live with you then, Father?" The priest swallowed. "No, I'm afraid, but there must be other ways." Tommaso asked again, this time addressing the organist: "Mr. Roletto, do I have any chance of getting a scholarship without being castrated?" The musician was clear in his answer: "No. Those scholarships are specifically available for orphaned castrati. Tommaso, you don't need to decide now. Think it over, make up your mind, and then decide. Consider that this is the most important decision in your life, and only you can decide."

The boy couldn't believe his luck. The more he thought about this, the more he understood that this was what he wanted most. Before he had only dreamed about it, never expecting it to become real. But now, his dream had come in, was here, ready to be grasped! Here he had the chance to live a special life, devoted entirely to the music he loved! And the fact of being unable to found a family did not look so bad to him. He had seen all of his former family dying away, one after the other. He didn't want to run the risk of seeing such happening again. "I don't need to think it over", he said. The two men looked at him. Softly he said "I accept." And then, he jumped up and screamed "I accept! I ACCEPT!" The organist stood up, embraced the boy, and congratulated warmly. The priest stayed sitting in his chair, muttering: "The Lord has mysterious ways. The Lord truly has mysterious ways."

That night Tommaso could not sleep. He drifted from feelings of ecstasies about this turn in his life, to profound fears about the unknown. The hopes of fame and glamour clashed with the nasty expectation of the pain from the surgery. It would hurt a lot, so much he knew for sure. But he could stand pain, and he would have to. And then, he had to leave his friends behind, specially Luca, who was now the only person in the world he could fully trust! He hoped to find new friends in that school in Rome, but would any of them replace Luca? Never. If just Luca would come with him, share his destiny, then everything else would be fine! But alas, Luca did not sing, and maybe that's why he was his best friend. They excelled in different fields.

It was only logical that the next day Tommaso went to his best friend's house, asking for him. "He's back by the barn, chopping wood", Luca's mother said. Tommaso went there, approaching his friend from behind. He watched him swing the ax. Clothed only in shorts, Luca's tanned body radiated health and strength. Tommaso made a mental comparison with his own, thin and screwy body. And the priest had called him handsome! He laughed inwardly. If anyone was handsome here, it was Luca. Not as much as some girls, of course, but then, Luca was a boy, he didn't need to be any better than that!

Tommaso got close, and grabbed the ax as Luca lifted it over his head. "Shit!" Luca turned around in shock, then he laughed. "I thought I had hit something!" He put the ax down, and Tommaso laughed too about his successful trick. Then he got serious. "Luca, I'm leaving tomorrow." The other boy's face darkened. "For how long?" "For a long time... maybe forever." That was a real shock for Luca. Loosing his friend, so suddenly... He drowned Tommaso under questions, where, how, why, and so on. "Calm down, calm down!" Tommaso said. "Do you remember, years ago, when I joined the church choir and you wouldn't?" "Yes, sure I remember. I'm glad I stayed out. Did you see the light now, and are you running away?" "Don't joke, Luca. This is serious. Do you remember how you teased me back then, what would happen to me if I sang too well?" Luca took a moment, then he remembered. "I said they would cut your balls off to keep you singing, like they have done with others before." Tommaso slowly nodded. After a further silence, Luca finally put two and two together. A shade paler, he said "Nooo, shit! They want to cut you? Really? And you will run away?"

Tommaso smiled as his friend went forth cursing every possible culprit. Here was his chance to learn some new words... Luca's language was very florid indeed. When he ran out of air, and of power words, he saw that Tommaso was laughing. Now he really didn't understand. "Luca, the crazy thing is that I like the idea. I know, I must be mad, but I have dreamed about becoming a castrato all the time since starting in the choir. And now it's getting real. Luca, I will be a singer, for life!"

He then updated his friend on the developments of the last 24 hours. The meeting with Mr. Roletto, and the briefing in the morning, when Roletto had explained to him what course to follow. He would have to walk to Norcia, a town six days northwest. The best surgeons lived there, and according to Roletto, being castrated in Norcia was a guarantee that his voice would stay as high and bright as it was now. After recovering from the surgery, he would go to Rome and seek acceptance in one of the three boarding music schools that accepted orphan castrati on a full scholarship basis. After several years in the school he would be a professional singer - and then he would surely come back and visit Luca and all others!

Luca soaked it all in. It sounded like a great adventure, and he would have loved to go with his friend, except for... well, he had no special voice, and wanted to keep what he had down there. "How will you do all that? I mean, you need money for food, for the surgeon, and for some place to stay while you heal up." Here he hit the weak spot. "I know it will be hard", Tommaso said. "I will have to work here and there, and maybe I even will have to beg." Awful. "Just don't steal. That's no good", Luca recommended. "Do I look like a thief?" Tommaso shouted. "Sorry, I take it back!" Luca put his arm around his friend's shoulder. He was still overly sensitive from his mother's death, that's for sure. But Tommaso cheered up soon. "One good thing: Mr. Roletto knows a surgeon in Norcia. He gave me a letter for him. Maybe he cuts me for free, or at least cheaper than the normal price." Luca shook his head. It was so awfully weird to hear his friend talk in radiant happiness about getting his balls chopped off and saving some money in the process! But Tommaso continued: "He also gave me introduction letters for the schools in Rome." Then the two boys sat silently, each lost in his thoughts. One was happy about what would happen to him, the other was equally happy that it was NOT going to happen to HIM. And the two quietly agreed in their sorrow about loosing each other. That's what makes real friends - something to share, and some differences. Equal, but still different.

Tommaso stopped by all the people he knew in the town, and that was almost everyone. A handshake here, a hug there, many good wishes, but - what he had hoped for, a few coins to make his start easier, did not come. The times were hard, he knew that well, and people simply couldn't spare anything. So, after a last night in the priest's house, very early the next day he set foot on the seaside trail to Pescara. He had been told to travel along the coastal route right to the Tronto river, then follow the river up into the mountains, and cross them towards Norcia. According to Roletto, that wasn't the shortest route, but surely it was the easiest one to walk.

He was carrying nothing more than his little bundle of clothes, inside of which he had a bread and three oranges, courtesy of Lucia, and a waterproof leather pouch containing the letters, his music, and his mother's picture. That one was hanging from a strap around his neck, touching his chest, as close as possible to his heart. The bundle was hanging from a stick, which he had put over his right shoulder. It was the best way to carry that stuff, even if it swayed forth and back.

After a while, Tommaso fell into a long-paced, rhythmic walk that allowed him to make good progress. He tried to sing, but it didn't sound too good, as his voice bumped at each pace. So, he gave up and walked silently, thinking about how much his life had changed, so quickly. Just three days ago he had been a small boy, going to school and tending his sick mother, hoping for a miracle that would save her life. And now, he was an orphan, alone in the world, having left behind even his home town, travelling to a foreign place, hoping to find a kind man who would - ouch - well, do what had to be done, and then he would go even farther, to Rome, the city where the Pope lived, trying to get one of the best music schools in the country to house him, feed him, and teach him singing like the great castrati! Wasn't that asking a little bit too much? But Roletto had assured him that it would work!

He felt so crazy for doing all this. Suddenly he had an idea. He could turn back, and ask Luca to hide him. Everyone would think he went on to Norcia, but he would stay somewhere in the woods, Luca would get him some food, and he would see no one else than his best friend. And he would not have to undergo any surgery. But - what then? He couldn't stretch that situation forever. When he was finally discovered, and that would surely happen, he would have to work, maybe as a peasant. Singing would be out of the question, even more so when he had lost his soprano voice! No. Resolutely he dismissed the idea. He had given his word, and he would keep it. He had accepted, and he would stick to that, through whatever would come his way.

There were few people on the road. Now and then someone came by who Tommaso knew. They always asked where he was going. When he said where he was bound to, invariable people asked what he would be doing in Norcia. So, after the third time he had to invent an excuse, he made up his story: He was going to visit his aunt in Norcia. He told that to everyone who asked, and they left him in peace.

By noontime Tommaso found a nice tree besides a creek. He decided to rest for a while. It was hot at this time. He unpacked his food, and ate a portion of the bread, drank some water, and then he ate one of the oranges. At this rate, the food would last until tomorrow morning... and he had several days to go! He was still hungry, but he packed his remaining food away and endured the hunger. He was accustomed.

The tree was full of birds. They were not overly active at this time of the day, but sometimes one of the birds sang his song. Tommaso whistled back. The bird answered. He answered. He would not be so lonely, after all!

He walked the entire afternoon, getting to Pescara well before sunset. The town was much larger than Ortona, which is not much to say, Ortona being just a few houses and a church. Tommaso decided to walk straight through the town, and use the remaining daylight to get a few more miles done. He was quite tired, for sure, and his feet ached, but he still could walk some more. Moreover, it was freshening up now, so it was easier to walk. So, he went forth until the sun was setting behind the hills, then he looked for a good place for the night. Besides a small trickle of water, he found a group of low trees that gave good shelter against any wind. There he settled. It quickly got cold now. He opened his bundle, put on all the clothes he had, and then ate some more of the bread, and one of the remaining oranges. The creek gave him some water. He drank until he could no longer feel any hunger. Then he lay down, pulled his knees up to his chin, and drifted into sleep, while the crickets in the grass around performed their nightly concert.

Tommaso woke up in the very early morning. It was barely starting to become day. It was bitterly cold, and he felt the icy soil through his wet clothes. He shivered, his teeth clattered, and he had to pee badly. Despite his drowsiness, he sat up, stretched his limbs. That hurt a little. Every morning, when stretching after waking up, he had that feeling, like if his muscles were slightly too short. But it was a refreshing ache, he liked it! So, he stretched once more, legs and arms, then he stood up and worked loose his trousers. Then he laughed as he saw his poor dick, so small and wrinkled from the cold. That little guy clearly didn't like sleeping in the open! The boy relieved himself, then, still standing, he ate a small piece of the bread, and left the place. In this chilly morning, the best thing he could do to warm up was walking.

He had already done several miles, when the sun finally rose out of the sea. He had seen this many times, but still he enjoyed it, how the landscape, gray and heavy until that moment, was suddenly flooded in vivid colours. He stood, watched, and listened to the birds, which at this time held a frenzy concert. Then he went on, wondering as he wandered. How much beauty sunlight can bring.

A peasant driving a cart pulled by two oxen came by. Tommaso greeted, the peasant greeted back. The boy gazed into the cart. Lettuce, tomatoes, fruit... He shook loose, and went on walking. A while later he started feeling warm, then hot. This was going to be a hot day. He stopped, pulled off his excess clothes, and made his bundle just like the day before. But it was smaller now, with so little food remaining. He kept going.

In the intense midday heath he came to the shore of a river. It could not yet be the Tronto, of course, but he was making progress! He stopped at the shore. There was no bridge, so he would have to wade across. He took off his shoes, hoping that the shorts were short enough to stay dry. The cool water felt marvelous around his tired feet. He put his bundle over his shoulder, took the shoes in his hand, and waded into the water. The river was shallow, the water level stayed mostly below his knees. Tommaso laughed. He had expected some more. He sat down on a rock, put on his shoes, and then he saw that downstream the river formed a sort of pond! He had made good progress, he had time, it was hot... and off he went towards that pond! He found a place that was hidden from the road, and undressed. He put the leather pouch with his treasures under a rock, so no wind gust could steal it, and splashed into the water. He enjoyed it royally. In the middle of the pond he could not stand. He swam across it a few times, then turned on his back, most of his head in the water, and floated motionless. The sun shone onto his face. He could have stayed there forever. Now and then a few strokes of his feet restored his floating position, otherwise he just drifted with closed eyes.

After a while, he swam back to the shore, climbed out, and dried in the sun. He looked down his body. It was seldom enough that he could stand naked in the full sun. In Ortona people would have been shocked! He enjoyed the idea of someone from Ortona coming by, and seeing him. He was free now, and did not have to follow their mandates!

But no one came, of course, and Tommaso ate the rest of his food while still naked, then he put on his clothes again. He felt fresh and clean now, a sensation he hadn't had for more than a week. The last time he had taken a bath had been when his mother was still alive... He swallowed a tear, and forced himself to get over it. He hung the pouch around his neck, grabbed the bundle, which now was even smaller, and resumed his voyage.

The evening found him reaching a small town, tired and hungry as a lion. There were a few houses, an inn, and a small chapel. Now what? He needed something to eat, or he would starve. So he took all his braveness together and entered the inn. Three men were sitting around a table, playing cards and drinking. Another one was having dinner. Tommaso's belly hurt even more. The place's owner sat behind the counter, looking lazily around. The boy approached him. "Sir, could you please give me some food, in exchange for work? I have no money." The man scrutinized Tommaso from head to feet, then laughed. "What kind of work could such a thin sparrow like you possibly do?" "I can wash the plates, sir, clean the barn, tend the horses..." Tommaso wondered if he should try his last resort, then decided to go for it: "And I could sing for your clients, too." Now the innkeeper laughed even louder, and gave back: "Boy, I can wash the plates myself, the barn is clean enough, the horses can care for themselves, and I don't think that anyone would want to hear a k** singing here!" And then he raised his voice: "Now, OUT OF HERE!!!"

Tommaso stepped back in fear of that man, said "Sorry, sir", and went to the door. But then the man who was eating shouted: "What's happening over there?" "A tramp is begging food, that's all, Mr. Campolieto. He is leaving already." And addressing Tommaso: "What are you waiting, boy? OUT, I said!!!"

The bartender was stepping towards Tommaso, who panicked and fled as fast as his legs could carry him through the room. But Campolieto raised his voice: "Stop that! Boy, come here! Yes, come! This man won't touch you!"

Tommaso stopped, looked, and indeed the man did seem to obey his client's order. So he went to his savior's table. "Sit down, boy", the man said. "What's your name?" "Tommaso Pinetti, sir", he replied shyly. "I'm Gaetano Campolieto. Were you really begging for food?" "No, sir, I was asking for food in exchange for work. I offered to wash the plates, clean the barn, tend the horses, and sing." "You are a singer?" "Well, not a real one, you know... But I sang in my town's church choir, so I thought that maybe I could make good use of that." The man laughed. "You seem to be quite a bright lad, Tommaso. But people are poor here, even the owner of this place. So you must understand that he can't give you anything." Tommaso nodded. It was clear enough now.

"Are you hungry?" What a question. "Very hungry, sir." The man paused. Then he proposed: "Tommaso, if you agree to be my servant for this evening, I'll get you food, and you can spend the night in my room. It's a deal?" Tommaso's eyes brightened up. "Yes, Mr. Campolieto, and many thanks! You saved me!" Campolieto presented his hand, and the boy took it. A firm handshake closed the deal.

"Barman, this boy is with me!" Campolieto shouted. "Fix him a dinner like mine!" Tommaso couldn't believe it. That was a huge beefsteak with sauce and salad! "Very well, sir", said the keeper. "With red wine, just like yours?" Campolieto turned to Tommaso. "Do you drink wine?" "Not often, sir", the boy replied. In fact, it had been only a very few times when he had gotten to taste wine. Campolieto ordered: "Yes, bring him some wine, but with lots of water!" "Very well, sir!" Tommaso smiled. How the innkeeper had changed his attitude!

After a very good dinner, Tommaso felt happy and eager to serve his new friend. "Let's go upstairs", said Campolieto. "I have rented a room here for the night." "Are you travelling too, sir?" "Just call me Gaetano. Yes, I'm travelling back home. I have at least another three days to ride. And I have spent the last ten days on horseback. My ass is swollen from it." Tommaso giggled. "So you come from far away!" he said. "Yes, I was in Venice. Do you know where that is?" Tommaso had a faint idea. "I think it's up the coast, quite far from here. That's the city that's built in the water, isn't it?" "Very good, Tommaso, yes. It's that one. It's very beautiful. And the world's best artists are to be found there. If you want to see the best paintings, go there. And if you want to hear really great music, music no one here knows, go there and attend a concert with works of Mr. Monteverdi or Mr. Gabrieli! They were true masters of their art!" Tommaso made a mental note.

"Can I ask you, Mr. ... Mr. Gaetano, if you maybe are a musician too?" Campolieto laughed. "No, boy, unfortunately not. I'm a farmer, nothing else. But I live down there in Campolieto, yes, like my name. Campolieto is just my farm and three houses. There is not even a church choir there. And I love the arts, be it music, painting, sculpture, you name it. So, once a year I take leave and ride to Venice, where I stay for a month, visiting painters, attending concerts, and so on." What a way to live, thought Tommaso. "That must cost a lot of money, sir!" he said. "It does. Oh yes, it does! But it is worth it. See, Tommaso, I have no family, so I have few expenses. And my farm is rather big, so I employ five men who do most of the work. I earn enough money to live quite well, and unless the harvests are particularly poor, I keep doing my yearly trip to Venice."

They had arrived in Campolieto's room while chatting. Tommaso looked around. It was plain, but clean, just like a rental room has to be. Of course it had just one bed, after all Mr. Campolieto was travelling alone. He would sleep on the floor, which was still better than the wet soil of last night!

The man unbuttoned his shirt, and sat down in the room's only chair. "Can I help you in some way, sir? Maybe you have some dirty clothes which I could wash for you?" Tommaso was feeling mighty useless, standing there in the middle of the room. But Campolieto laughed. "Stop that nonsense, k**, strip down now and get into the bed!" Tommaso didn't understand. "But the bed is yours, sir, and you said that I would have to be your servant for this evening!" Campolieto laughed even louder now. "You are great, Tommaso! You should become an actor! But now, stop the show and get out of your clothes!" Tommaso was growing desperate now. Was this man mad, or what? Or was he a surgeon, and had sensed what Tommaso was searching on this trip, and just wanted to make it happen more quickly? No, nonsense! That was too far fetched! But he really had no idea what Campolieto wanted. He forced himself to stay calm, and asked: "Mr. Campolieto-" "Call me Gaetano, it's easier", the man interrupted. "Well - Gaetano, I really don't understand what you want! You told me to be your servant for the evening, and now you want me to get into the bed, without having served you in any way?"

Campolieto got serious. "Tommaso, this seems to be a misunderstanding. Do you really not know what it means for a boy to be a man's servant for an evening?" Tommaso thought. "I suppose it means to do all those little jobs, like washing clothes, lighting candles, emptying chamber pots, fetching water, and so on!" Now Campolieto almost bursted in laughter. Tommaso felt so silly. Something was awfully wrong here. When the man had stopped laughing, he explained: "Tommaso, being a man's evening servant is much different from that. I thought you were used to that kind of service, but now I see that isn't the case. It involves personal service. Things like caressing, stroking, and some more. And that's done in the bed. Would you like to do that to me?" The thought of it horrified Tommaso. Being in bed with a naked man, being naked too, and doing those things? "No, please!" was the only words he brought out.

Campolieto watched the scared boy. He made up his mind. "Relax, Tommaso. I won't force you to it. It seems that I lost." Tommaso breathed a little easier. "But maybe you would agree to give me another service?" What choice did he have? He had given this man his hand! "Whatever you say, sir, as long as it isn't personal service!" Campolieto smiled. "Well, the fact is, I have been taking a few lessons from painters in Venice. Would you be able to stand still for an hour or so, while I draw you?" That was easy! "Of course, that's no problem, sir!" Campolieto laughed. "Call me Gaetano, even if you won't go to bed with me!" Then he added: "But I want you to pose in the nude."

Tommaso weighed the situation. It was not proper for a boy to show off naked in front of a man who had a strange behavior. But then, he would never again see this man, so what damage could it do? He agreed.

He took off his clothes, shyly hiding behind the chair, while Campolieto unpacked his drawing utensils. A stand was assembled, a large paper was pulled from a roll and installed on the stand, several brushes of different sizes and shapes appeared, a piece of drawing coal, and some containers with watercolours. Tommaso gazed in awe. "How do you carry all that?" The man laughed lightly. "I have a pack horse, boy! I still have to learn to travel light!" He finished to set up everything, then ordered Tommaso to get out from behind that chair. Tommaso blushed, and walked to the place he was told, trying to appear as modest as possible. Campolieto came close, grabbed his left arm, and gently brought it into the position he wanted. He lifted up the boy's chin, then with both hands pulled his shoulders straight. Tommaso understood immediately, and behaved like a wax figurine, holding the shape the man was putting him into. In that pose he could not look down. He looked at the wall, and the window, which was totally dark. Three candles shone their yellow light from the holder at the wall. "Move your right foot forward", he was told. He did so. "Pull your belly in - no, not necessary, you have no belly to speak of!" Tommaso laughed. He knew that he was thin. Then he felt a tug at his balls. "Ouch!" he said. "Now they look right too", Campolieto said, satisfied. "Just one thing missing." With his hand he went through Tommaso's hair, until it was smooth and shiny. He stepped back. "Boy, you are really beautiful!" he said.

That sentence shot through Tommaso. Suddenly he understood what the priest meant, when he had warned him against men who told him that he was handsome! Father Giuseppe knew about things like private evening services to lonely men! Now he also could understand why the priest couldn't keep him in his house without raising suspicion. Such a crooked world! Tommaso hated it.

While Campolieto drew the boy, he suddenly asked: "Now let me know who you are, and what you are doing here, young man. You are a musician, right? You said that you sang in your town's church choir?" While keeping his rather uncomfortable pose, Tommaso told him the entire story, the death of his family, the poverty they were in, and that now he was on his way to Norcia, to visit an aunt. Campolieto listened up. "Tommaso, would you sing something for me?" "It would be a pleasure, Gaetano. Right now?" "Yes!" "But I have to give up this pose if I have to sing!" Campolieto laughed. "Do it, but then we finish the painting!" Relieved, Tommaso assumed his normal posture, and asked what he should sing. "Anything that shows off your voice. Something that takes it high up, and way down too. Show me what you can do!" Now that was an invitation Tommaso loved. He sang a scale, to find his proper starting note, and then he sung a solo taken from a Spanish Magnificat, which was just what showed off his voice best. The rather small room did not help, but still it was a pleasure to sing this piece. He adorned the music as he fancied. He didn't mind a bit now to be stark naked in front of an unknown man. This man understood music, he could see that. The solo wasn't long, three minutes perhaps, but when Tommaso finished, Campolieto sat quiet for a long time. Than he said softly: "Tommaso, that was better than anything you could have done to me in bed. This alone would pay for your meal, and for much more." That made Tommaso feel even better. He smiled, and got back into modeling pose, even pushing his balls forward, so the man would not tug on them again. Campolieto resumed painting. But not in silence.

"Now tell me the truth, Tommaso. That aunt in Norcia doesn't exist, right?" The boy felt discovered. He didn't know what to say now. But Campolieto continued. "Norcia is famous for two things: Its pork, and its surgeons." He stood up, and grabbed Tommaso's forearm. He looked into the boy's face, and said: "And now I don't think you will try to tell me that you are going there for the pork."

After a long pause Tommaso gave in. "How did you do that, Gaetano, reading my mind? I thought that my aunt in Norcia sounded real enough!" Campolieto laughed, then patted Tommaso on his shoulders. "Congratulations, boy! You will make a great career as a castrato, believe me! It's the best thing you can do, with that voice of yours! Everything else doesn't matter! But regarding your question: A boy with a fabulous voice, travelling to Norcia, tells it all! And the closer you come to Norcia, the more people will read your mind about this! If you want to keep your secret, then you must find another story. Tell them you are going to Serravalle. That's close to Norcia, the road is the same, but Serravalle does not have Norcia's fame!" He laughed. "Thanks", said Tommaso. His aunt lived in Serravalle now. Serravalle. Don't forget. Serravalle.

Campolieto drew several pictures of the nude boy. He even coloured one of them that evening. "I can do the others later", he said. Tommaso looked at the watercolour painting. Campolieto had drawn a landscape around him, from memory, with a waterfall, trees, some clouds... It looked nice, except for his own figure. He almost went forth to ask "Gaetano, why am I so ugly?" But then, he decided to better keep his mouth shut. That question could again bring unpleasant things up. And, perhaps, after all he wasn't as ugly as he perceived himself? As if it mattered! So he just congratulated him on the good paintings. Shortly later the two went to sleep. Campolieto in the bed, and Tommaso, fully clothed, on the floor.

When the boy woke up, he heard the scratching of the coal on the paper. He kept quiet, and very slowly opened one eye, only a narrow slit. He saw Campolieto, busily drawing, looking at him, drawing, looking, drawing... After the man had taken the next look, Tommaso pushed his tongue out of his mouth, stretching it as long as he could, and grinned at the same time. Campolieto looked, drew, looked, drew, looked, and suddenly noticed the change. He exploded in laughter. "Stay that way, it looks great!" The coal scratched faster across the paper. After a while, Campolieto was happy with his work. "Ready!", he said. Tommaso now fully opened his eyes, let them adjust to the daylight that was falling through the window... How late was it? Much too late, in any case! He stood up, stretched his limbs, felt the refreshing ache. His bones must have grown another tiny amount this night. He looked at Campolieto's papers. The man had been very productive! There were full-body coal drawings of him sleeping, seen from several different angles, some face-only drawings, a coloured painting of the entire scene in the room, including the painting tools. That one was great. "How long have you been painting this morning, Gaetano?" he asked. The man laughed. "I couldn't sleep very long. I'm up for at least three hours now." Tommaso kept looking through the drawings. Here were those from yesterday, showing him naked. He liked those of him sleeping on the floor much better. "What do you like so much about me, Gaetano?" he asked. And immediately he regretted it. But Campolieto did not react badly. "I told you yesterday, Tommaso. You are beautiful. Your face, the shape of your body, the way your hair flies when you move your head..." Tommaso felt like running. But he kept in control. "Gaetano, aren't men supposed to like women? Isn't it strange that you like looking at me, drawing me twenty-two times, and asking me to get in bed with you??" The man didn't answer at first. Then, very softly, he said: "Tommaso, you are right. Men are indeed supposed to like women. But some just don't do, and they can't help it!"

After a further while of tense silence, during which Tommaso tried to understand but couldn't, and decided to just take note and move on, Campolieto became more practical. "Tommaso, in ten more years, when you are a famous castrato singing in the best theaters of Rome, Naples, Venice and Milan, you will suddenly ask yourself 'How did I look as a small boy, before going to Norcia?' So I made this for you. Keep it as a present from this crazy old man." And he handed him a small painting. Tommaso took it, and looked. It was a fully coloured painting of him, naked, standing aside a river, his sight aimed at a bird flying through the sky. It was obviously the pose he had been displaying in the evening, but the landscape with the birds was new, and looked great. The painting was carefully crafted, every smallest detail could be seen, from the birds' feathers to the boy's hair and the trees' leaves. Tommaso liked it a lot. "How did you do this?" he asked in awe. The painter laughed. "It's quite easy. I copied your body from one of the larger drawings from yesterday, then added the landscape from memory. Drawing trees and birds is easy! Only for drawing people I need a model."

Tommaso kept looking at the picture. He was starting to like the view of himself. And even being naked was not disturbing at all in that landscape! Gaetano was right, this would be a good reminder of how he looked now. Both of his balls could clearly be seen, hanging lower than normal... The effect of the tugging before the man had started to draw! He would call it the 'ouch effect'. He giggled.

Very carefully Tommaso folded the painting along the middle line. Otherwise it would not fit his leather pouch. He stored the little treasure. Soon later they went down for breakfast, and then came the time to continue his trip. He was provided with food for a day, a big hug from which he seeked escape, all good wishes, and - a ducat! A coin made from real gold! Campolieto said that it would bring him good luck. But in Tommaso's eyes, it was a fortune not to be wasted! He would consider it the start of his coming wealth!

While walking along the road, the boy slowly digested his adventure. He felt happy now, out of danger. Strange man! Hard to tell if he was crazy, bad, good, special, or what. But in the end it all had worked out well, and he had gotten a painting of himself and a ducat - for nothing!

In the afternoon he started asking people on the road how far it was to the Tronto river. He got differing answers, and soon he found out that people who walked tended to say one thing, while those who rode found the way much shorter! He then averaged what pedestrians told him. Maybe he could make it today! In the late afternoon he finally reached a river that looked like it could be the Tronto. He waited. Should he go up this river? After a while a woman came his way. He greeted, and asked if this was the Tronto. "No, boy, this is the Tordino! You have a day or so to go for the Tronto! But what in heaven are you going there for?" Swallowing his dismay, Tommaso told his story about the aunt in... Serravalle! He had almost forgotten it! But the story worked: The lady wished him a good voyage, and told him: "Stay in Giulia this night. There are good people there, and there is no further town for several hours." That was good advise! Then the lady walked away. No suspicions!

An hour or so later he reached the town. It was the usual assembly of a few houses, a church, and not much more. But somehow it breathed peace. Tommaso liked it. It really looked like good people could dwell here. When he passed by the church, suddenly he thought that he owed God some thanks for the success of his trip so far. He entered, knelt down, and prayed silently. Then he stood up, and looked around. It was a plain church. No organ in sight. And nobody there except for him. But several candles were burning. Obviously people did come here.

Tommaso felt the urge to sing. And he knew positively that he had to! If he didn't sing for too long, his voice would get rusty, and what then??? So, he made sure again that no one was around, and then started his own private recital. His voice worked as it should, and he enjoyed it! He had his doubts about the truth of certain statements about his supposed beauty, but inwardly he knew very well that regarding his voice no such fears were warranted. He sang through a good part of his repertoire, and noticed how the church resonated with his voice! This gave him more confidence, and finally he let loose everything he had in his throat! He closed his eyes, listening for the several separate echoes coming from different areas of the building. He felt in peace with the world, which was so full of beauty! He kept his eyes shut, and continued singing, one work after the other. He was about to run out of music, but he had kept that Magnificat solo for the end. He paused a while, concentrated, and then let it come out! If he had to sing something of his choice in an admission exam, he would sing this! It was so powerful!

After he finished, he enjoyed the quietness a few moments, then opened his eyes again, ready to turn to mundane things such as looking for food and shelter. And as he did so, a surprise shocked him: The church was no longer empty! About twenty people were there, sitting or standing, including a priest, looking at him! And he was standing next to the altar, misusing the sacred house for singing practice! What a way to mess up! He blushed deeply, picked up his bundle and fled down the aisle, but the priest stepped in his way and stopped him. "Boy, that was heavenly! Please stay with us for a while! Welcome in Giulia!" Tommaso stayed.

It was the time of the evening mass, and Tommaso had made it start late. But no one complained... After the mass, which lasted till it was dark, most of the people gathered around him. He had to tell them his name, where he came from and where he was bound too, and where he learned singing. They were surprised to learn that his only school had been a small-town church choir. They tried to convince him to stay a longer time in town. But Tommaso, as much as he would have liked it, did not accept. "But you surely will stay here at least for this night!" someone said. The next thing was that he got invitations from three different people to stay at their homes! He didn't know what to do in such a situation, but the priest noticed and, smiling, decided everything. Tommaso was housed by a family with five c***dren, in a clean, ample house. He got a warm bed for the night, good food... If only life could be like this all the time! He really considered giving up all his plans and staying in Giulia, but... it could not be. It was clear enough that his voice had gained him this treatment. And he was twelve years old. His voice required urgent attention, or it would fade. And what would he be without his voice? A useless, thin, sickly k**. No one would want him. He had to press on, to Norcia.

It took some effort to leave Giulia. He had to promise everyone to return soon, and stay longer. But off he went, towards the Tronto river. His feet had developed blisters. So, at some places he left the road, and walked along the beach, barefoot. It felt good, but in the sand he didn't make much progress. Finally, he put on his shoes again, blisters and all, clenched together his teeth and walked on, as quickly as he could. And indeed, he finally reached the Tronto before the day was over! Finally! This was about the middle point of his trip. Four days. He would probably take another four to Norcia. Would they be as full of adventure as the first four? And what then, once he arrived in Norcia? Norcia. That name was starting to have such a special ring in his ears!

He didn't find any town to spend the night. He had to camp out again. That was fine. He could use another night under the stars! But God chose to punish him for his excessive trust in his luck. That night, as he was lying under some trees by the riverbank, some drops came down. And then more. And after a while, it was raining like in mid winter! Tommaso was soon soaked to his skin, and shivered in the cold. He would have tried to find a drier place, but it was pitch black dark! Fat droplets fell out of the tree, but at this point the boy could not get any wetter. He should have stayed with the good people in Giulia until the bad weather was over! But now it was too late. He made sure that his pouch was well closed, so at least his treasures inside would stay dry, and then he concentrated on dominating that feeling of coldness. He actively tried not to shiver. A thick droplet fell into his left ear. Bang! That was loud! He shook it out, covered his ear with his hand, and tried to sleep. It was a crappy night.

The boy got up in the first morning light. It was still raining intermittently. For breakfast he had fruit and bread, which the Giulians had given him. But the bread was soaked with rain and tasted terrible. At least it was soft... He grinned, despite being half frozen. Then he started walking, upriver! This was the way to Norcia!

The wet clothes were heavy, and his limbs ached. He had an headache too, but after a while that cleared up. At least he was warming up a little. The worst part where his feet. The blisters were turning into wounds.

The trail along the river went slightly uphill. A lot of birds were living along the Tronto. Few people, but very friendly. So friendly in fact, that at noontime he was invited by a large party of travelers to share their lunch. He enjoyed it, and thanked with a song in the open. After he finished, an old man made a gesture up the hills, and asked just one word: "Norcia?" It was becoming clear to Tommaso that around here everyone knew about that town's reputation! But he played it down, answering: "No, Serravalle". The man gave back: "Good for you. But to get to Serravalle, you need to pass through Norcia. Be careful there. Norcia is dangerous for boys like you." That good soul! Tommaso kept the truth to himself.

Having set off so early, he walked a long stretch this day. By the evening he came to a larger town. It seemed appropriate for trying his luck as a street singer, for the first time! He found a corner which gave some echo, and, tired as he was, started to practice his songs. Soon people started gathering around him! The more people came, the louder he sang. Then he stopped, lacking a hat he took one of his shoes in his hand, and passed it around the people... Some laughed, many quickly walked away, but a few gave a coin or two! He repeated it several times, until no new people came. He could not go on milking the same ones, so he called it a day. Most of the remaining people left, except for a few who were more interested, and asked him the usual questions. But in this larger town people were not as friendly as in Giulia. Well, no place so far had matched Giulia for friendliness...

Tommaso counted his money. It added up to almost two ducats! He had almost tripled his savings! Enough to spend some of it for food. He bought himself a warm meal in an inn, and when he asked how much it would be to sleep in the inn's barn, to his surprise he was allowed to sleep there for free! He enjoyed a warm, even if smelly, night amid the horses.

The next morning he almost couldn't stand his headache. He felt really sick. But he had no choice, his trip had to continue! He stayed in the hay just one more minute, and another, and so on... until several men came to fetch their horses. Tommaso jumped up and wiped the sleep out of his eyes, then greeted the gentlemen. The usual questions followed. When they learned that the boy was bound to Serravalle, one of them told him: "The road gets steep that way. It's much better to ride than to walk. Do you want to come with us? We are travelling to Rome." Rome! Tommaso was confused. "But I need to go to Serravalle first! Only later I will go to Rome..."

The men laughed. "Dummy, I know! But it's the same road! You can come with us right to the pass. It will spare you two days of walking, if not more!" That offer was not to be turned down. Tommaso went with them. They had several spare horses, so the boy got one, and enjoyed the ride royally. He even forgot his headache, but he couldn't thank in his accustomed way: He was so hoarse that there was no way to sing. He could barely talk. At least this had the advantage that no one suspected that his real destination was Norcia, and much less, why he was going there...

In the mid afternoon they reached the place where the mountain trail to Norcia separated from the main road. Tommaso was so thankful! This had cut two days of walking uphill to some hours of joyful riding! And his feet were thankful too. But he rubbed his ass. The saddle had definitely not been the most comfortable... He grinned, thinking about Mr. Campolieto riding for two weeks at a stretch in such a thing!

The boy walked and walked. The trail switched forth and back. No road is ever straight, but this one was especially crooked. He considered taking shortcuts, but in the thick forest, steeply uphill, he soon realized that the best thing he could do was following the beaten trail. Poor wandering one, he thought...

Not only was the trail crooked and steep, but it also was lonely. By the time it was becoming dark, he had seen no one. Of course, no house, no town. And he had no food. He had trusted to get, or maybe buy, some food, but now he realized that this was a real mountain range, where simply nobody lived! And it was getting so cold up here, that he was shivering even while walking. He was in trouble, and he knew it.

Tommaso walked until the day definitely went away. Hungry as he was, he filled himself up with water from a creek, the only thing he could do... He had seen no edible berries or anything in that line for all the trip, so it was useless to try searching now. Then he prepared for sleep. He broke some branches from trees and shrubs, and made a sort of bed from them. There he lay down. Despite being infinitely tired, he couldn't sleep. He had that nasty headache again, and he simply couldn't stop shivering. He was in doubt if it was really that cold, or if he was feeling colder than he should.

Suddenly he realized that he hadn't talked to anyone since leaving the men and their horses. He tried his voice. To his dismay, he could not bring a sound out! This wasn't from singing in the street... He was sick, so much he knew now. What would happen if he died here? Would anyone find his body? He wept silently. Then better thoughts crossed his mind. From here it should be no more than one day to Norcia! There, all his worries ended! And his little cold would not kill him! But what if it wasn't just a cold? Or if he didn't find the surgeon? And anyway, how would it feel to be castrated? Would it be done right tomorrow, or when? Worried, and cold, he took a long time to fall asleep. It was more like loosing consciousness.

Tommaso woke up in the middle of the night. He was feeling hot. He enjoyed it! But his nose was almost swollen shut. He tried to free it up, to no avail. And a while later he was freezing again. He stood up in the dark, walked a few paces, took a leak, sat down, then got into his leaf bed again and tried to sleep. He then did not wake up again until the morning sun warmed him.

He stretched. He rubbed his forehead. It felt like if someone was compressing it between two logs. He was breathing through his mouth, since his nose was sealed shut. He could barely speak and decided to stop tryi