Victory Road. Mark Bowlin

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СКАЧАТЬ she’s readin’ his face, and maybe she’s happy about what she sees. Why’s that, d’ya suppose?”

      “She’s watching his face to see if he notices she’s stealing his ring while she tells him how rich and powerful he is to become.”

      Perkin looked down at the boy’s palm and noticed that the fortune teller was carefully sliding a ring off the finger of the dandy. He laughed, “I’ll be damned. I hadn’t noticed that. I wish I had the time to bring Sam here—he mostly likes paintings of horses, but he’d think this one’s a hoot.”

      “Maybe next time.” Gianina put her arms around Perkin’s neck and stretched up to kiss him. After a long, lingering kiss, he moved to wrap her up in his arms. She slipped her arms around Perkin’s waist, and placed her head on his shoulder and relaxed as he held her tight. Nothing was said, and Gianina held back tears as she wished for the embrace to last forever. Two colleagues walking in the corridor past the closed door were having an animated discussion, and the intrusion into their silence broke the spell of the short moment. She stepped back.

      “I have a surprise for you.” She looked up at Perkin. Her eyes had dried up and Perkin recognized that her teasing look had returned.

      “Another one? This is my lucky day.”

      “Well, that remains to be seen. I’m going to tell your fortune. Give me your hand.”

      With a grin, Perkin gave her his hand. Gianina looked carefully at his calloused hand, her fingers tracing the lines on his palm. She frowned at one line, shook her head and traced the line again with her finger and then drew her breath in sharply. Gianina shook her head at Perkin with mock sorrow, but her eyes were alight, “Oh darling, it is very short. The lines on your hand tell me one bad story and the calluses tell me of yet more sorrow. You won’t like it at all. Perhaps the worst news you could get!”

      “What? What is it?”

      “Are you sure you want to hear it? It is terrible.”

      “Bad news can’t wait. Let’s have it.”

      “This short line here says that you…that you will be celibate for a very long time. Starting tomorrow.”

      “Oh. I liked his fortune better.” Perkin nodded at the boy in the painting. “What else did you see in my lines?”

      With a shy grin, Gianina said, “Well these things are never certain, but it looks like the curse of celibacy will lift only when you have returned to Napoli.”

      Perkin wiped his brow in mock relief. “Whew! Thank goodness. What’s the bad news from the calluses?”

      Gianina began laughing hard and she nudged Perkin playfully in the ribs, “The calluses tell me you had better be gentle, or you’ll hurt yourself!”

      They both laughed at Perkin’s foretold misfortune, then Gianina asked for his hand again. “Look at me like the boy did,” she commanded as she stroked his palm.

      “I’ve no ring to steal, or I’d have already given it to you already.” Perkin smiled as the oppression of the impending departure continued to lift.

      “No. I’m giving something to you. Look down.” So gentle that Perkin could barely feel it, she had placed a rectangular silver locket in his palm.

      “What is it?” he asked as he opened the antique locket.

      “It’s Saint Michael the Archangel. He’ll protect you. He’s the patron saint of soldiers.”

      Perkin walked closer to the light and looked at the locket. It was the same general shape as his dog tags but much larger. Instead of a picture inside, there was a painting on a thin ceramic surface which had been cut and filed to fit tightly inside the locket. The painting was small, unbelievably small, yet richly detailed and showed a winged Saint Michael subduing a winged Lucifer—Saint Michael’s foot on the back of the prostrate Lucifer’s head, one hand holding a sword poised to plunge into his adversary, his other hand holding the chains that shackled Satan. It was incredible imagery with remarkable detail, given its size.

      “Oh, Gia…it’s fantastic. I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you find this?”

      “The locket is an old family one, but I did the painting…well, it is a copy of one by Guido Reni called The Archangel Michael, although I took some liberties with it.” Gianina smiled and then laughed. “Look at the face under this magnifying glass.”

      Perkin looked closely at the angel and saw what could be nothing other than Private Edwin Kulis’s tiny bespectacled face resting atop Saint Michael’s muscular torso. Although Perkin could not be sure, the painting so small, but he thought that Kulis was smiling back at him.

      Delighted, Perkin cried, “Is that Kulis?”

      “Isn’t it divine? I was laughing so hard as I painted the glasses that I had to do it four times. But you told me that he saved your life at Paestum and protected you at Paola, so who better than Eddie as Saint Michael to watch over you?”

      “Who better indeed? I—” Perkin began to thank her, but Gianina interrupted.

      “Do you know why Saint Michael and not Saint George or Saint Martin? They are also patron saints of soldiers.”

      “I have no idea. Why?”

      “Your friend, Father Riley, told you that this war is the war to oppose evil, and Saint Michael will lead God’s army to defeat evil. He will be a good protector for you,” she said simply.

      Patrick Riley was an Irish priest who Perkin had met in the Italian village of Pisciotta. In addition to being a Jesuit priest, Riley was also providing information to his older brother in British military intelligence—an act which had come to the attention of the Germans. When Perkin passed through the village of Pisciotta, he stopped a German patrol that had been sent to arrest the priest. As Perkin evacuated the priest to a more secure village, one closer to the American lines, Father Riley had told Perkin that the war was definable in terms of good and evil, and it was Riley’s contention that Perkin and his soldiers had been brought to Italy to oppose the incarnation of evil by the Nazis—a notion that Perkin largely rejected, but one which resonated with Gianina. The nature of the war was more complex in Perkin’s light than simple black and white notions of good and evil, but he was touched by Gianina’s gift.

      “I had something made for you as well.” Knowing her reaction, Perkin could not keep a grin off of his face although he tried. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box and handed it to the delighted Gianina.

      “What’s this?” Gianina opened the box. “A cow!? A cow? You give me a cow necklace as a present?”

      “It’s a longhorn, baby—the universal symbol of Texas. What’s wrong, you don’t like it?”

      “I think…,” Gianina sputtered laughingly, “I think that the prediction of your celibacy was off by a day.” She put the necklace on and struck a pose for Perkin as she stuck out her tongue. “How does my cow look?”

      “Anemic. I reckon Bevo needs some color. Here’s the one I meant to give you. The cow was for my daytime girlfriend.” From his other pocket, Perkin produced a second box and opened it. Lying inside was another gold necklace, this time with a small СКАЧАТЬ