style="font-size:15px;"> “The same thing: Alessandro! Alessandro!….. and then the experience of horrible pain and the real fear of death.”
I ceased to tease Julian further. He looked terrible and appeared to genuinely be in pain. I drove him back home and advised Julian’s mother that he had not been well, not enlarging on the conversation Julian and I had at Beaulieu.
When I returned to my flat that night, I was exhausted and settled into my favourite armchair with a large Scotch to contemplate the events of the day. I wondered what Nicola would make of it and if I should call her, only then realising that I did not even have her telephone number. I made a mental note then to obtain it from Julian. It might prove useful in the future.
I then began to wonder if Julian needed a different type of help. Nicola’s interest in Julian was totally self-motivated. What he really needed was a doctor who would see him as a patient, not as an object of study. Maybe Nicola could suggest the name of a doctor she thought might be of help. I was now sure more so than ever that Julian needed help to come out of this predicament, it was not normal to have an inexplicable fear and reactions to simple things like a child crying.
At the very least I felt he should be referred to a psychotherapist and he probably needed to get some rest, preferably a complete break.
“A seaside resort is the right place to go. I must suggest it to Julian”, I thought aloud, “I also need to discuss Julian with Pamela first and see what we can do for him in this situation. She must know that her son is not well. Maybe she can persuade him to see a doctor?”
I decided to check up on Julian and gave Pamela a ring. She told me that Julian was still asleep and I invited her over for dinner, explaining that we needed to talk privately. I changed and freshened up a little before Pamela arrived a little later. I offered her a drink, which she declined claiming she was driving. Pamela looked worried and told me that she suspected something was going on with her son. Her quizzical look informed me she was waiting to hear what I had to say. I wondered where to begin. I decided to tell her everything I knew, as I did not want to hide anything any longer. Apologising for my previous half-truths, I promised to be more open with her from now on. She could not help crying as she revealed that Julian had an incident when he had been 4 years old. He had fallen from a swing and broken his arm. Pamela feared it was possible that they had concentrated their attention on his arm and not paid sufficient attention to his head. Maybe they missed some trauma of his head and it only now had started to manifest itself? Pamela was beside herself with worry and together we agreed to convince Julian to at least see a doctor as soon as possible for an investigation. Julian would never have listened to me, he dismissed all my suggestions that he see a doctor, but with Pamela’s help… I believed she would insist on it.
The telephone rang making us both jump involuntarily. It was Nicola.
“Michael, I have tremendous news! I don’t want to call Julian yet because I wanted to discuss this with you first before I tell him.”
“Tell him what, Nicola?”
“Listen, you won’t believe this. I have just returned from Spain. I spent 10 days there and I think I have made an important discovery.” She paused for a second; “Do you remember Julian told us about an engraving which he and Roberta had found in one of the Spanish museums?”
“Yes, I do. It was something about an execution,” I replied warily.
“Correct. Can you believe that I found not just this engraving, but also the place, which is depicted in this picture? I have been there. It has the same square and the same church as shown on the engraving and as Julian described it.”
“But there must be lots of village squares with similar looking churches in them!” I protested.
Pamela was watching me, her eyebrows raised in question. Nicola continued almost as if I’d not spoken;
“Everything looks the same, just as it did then. The place is called Cadiz, it’s not a village, but a city. Cadiz is one of the oldest cities in the Western world and has a port that goes back to the time of Phoenician merchants. The ‘church’ on the engraving is actually a Cathedral. You cannot mistake its shape, although it has been subject to many restorations since the time of the engraving, but the unusual domed roof, not as we would imagine a church in England still exists.”
Nicola referred to her notebook as she spoke, I could hear the rustle of paper as she leafed through the pages.
“I introduced myself as a journalist and managed to talk to the Cardinal. He was very accommodating and introduced me to the local Bishop who allowed me access to the Cathedral library. More importantly, I was given access to some of the officials who look after the religious manuscripts and old texts relating to the Cathedral and the city. I was there for about 3 hours and spoke with some of the local amateur historians there. One in particular was nearly 80 years old but he has a remarkable memory for detail!” Pam was hovering anxiously nearby, concerned that the call may be about Julian. I mouthed “It’s OK” as Nicola’s voice continued in my ear;
“He knew the history of Cadiz very well. I asked him specifically about the engraving and he estimated it had to be in the latter part of the 16th century. Now get this…” Nicola added, “There are many documented accounts of burnings within the Church records which he translated for me. Many of them concerned Jews who were persecuted at this time, but we found one, which was unique, as it told of a foreign seafarer’s family. He was burned as a heretic and his wife was also killed by the crowd attending the execution, on suspicion of being a witch.” Nicola paused, and I could almost hear her excitement; “Wait for it Michael; their young son is also mentioned – he was mutilated with a burning log!”
I could sense the excitement in Nicola.
“The records were unusually detailed, as they were not part of the Jewish persecutions but of local people. Oh, and Michael, I even found out the boy’s name. I thought it sounded so nice: ‘Alessandro’…”
“It sounds so adventurous, to be a seafarer…”
CHAPTER FIVE
Alessandro: Cadiz, Spain
3rd July 1587
The smooth sea’s surface reflected a calm glaze as the boy poked at a crab with a broken twig, squinting with concentration into the harsh sun.
The cool breeze off the sea ruffled his hair gently as he flipped the crab onto its back in the soft warm sand and he giggled as it struggled to right itself. A serious look came over his handsome face as he observed the determination with which the unfortunate creature attempted to rectify himself. No matter how many times the boy flipped him over; he saw that the crab would just keep trying until he succeeded in getting back on its legs, only to be cruelly flipped over by yet another poke of his stick.
Tiring of this game, he glanced back towards the sounds of preparation as men loaded the tall sailing ship. On this ship, the boy’s father would soon be departing on a long ocean adventure to distant waters. It was the boy’s dream to accompany his father on such a trip and he longed to be old enough to do so.
“It sounds so adventurous, to be
