Such was the way of that blessed May. It was a time of fresh colors, pleasant walks in balmy evening air, and early harvests of garden delights. Yet pleasure has its season, and the time to begin their journey was soon upon them. It was the feast of the Ascension, and on the morning to follow the pilgrims would turn their eyes northward. No thought was given to staying; all were ready to climb the mountains and face the destiny that lay ahead.
The feast day was bountiful, and Signora Cosetta was a gracious host. Tables were lined in long rows in the castle’s great hall where trays of spring vegetables and steaming game delighted visitors from afar. It was an uproarious event, filled with loud singing and boastful claims. A papal legate nearly choked on fish bones, a drunken Visconti clerk disrobed, and the crooning Benedetto nearly fell to his death from his balcony far above the tiled floor! Otto and Heinz, Rudolf and Helmut exchanged flirtatious grins with a foursome of Italian maidens, only to be angrily chased away by jealous suitors. Solomon raced the signora’s hounds in a wild scramble to gobble scraps tossed from greasy hands, and by night’s end the shaggy beast lay panting on a swollen belly.
But alas, the night’s merriment came to its inevitable end. The signora rose to bid her guests farewell. She gestured to Benedetto. “Leave them with a song, little fellow.” The minstrel climbed wearily upon a table and sang of his Rose of Arona—a song about a beauty from this very town whom he had once seen for a fleeting moment. After spending years dreaming of her, he had been frustrated all this time that he could neither find her nor learn anything of her! The guests stood respectfully as their sleepy hostess slipped away from the table, then listened to Benedetto’s heartfelt verse. The feast over, the hall emptied quickly.
Before retiring to her bed, however, Signora Cosetta summoned the eleven pilgrims to the door of her chamber. “I wish you all Godspeed.” She smiled and laid a hand on Maria. “I am thankful you gave my husband joy in his final days. I could have asked no more for him.” She smiled and winked at a servant.
All heads turned as a protesting donkey was led into the corridor. “This creature is more stubborn than any drunken fisherman I have ever met. Only Maria can move him without effort! We call him ‘Paulus’ because the priests say he is as stubborn and fixed of purpose as the apostle!” She took hold of the lead and handed it to Maria. “Now, my little dear, I present this old friend of mine to you. Treat him well and think of me often.” She smiled as Maria’s eyes widened.
“For me?” she squealed as she stroked the muzzle of the big-eared beast.
“Si.” Cosetta motioned for the servant and turned to the others. “Now, Paulus shall wait for you all at the gate on the morrow. But as for me, I shall bid my farewell now.” She handed Paulus’s lead to the servant and summoned the pilgrims into her apartment. She sat on a chair and reached for Maria. Lifting the little girl up onto her ample lap, she began. “My husband was something of a poet. He was surely no warrior. I wish all of you might have known him. He learned to love Pieter almost as much as he loved the little one.”
Cosetta pick a folded paper from within her gown and opened it slowly. Her eyes moistened. “As he was dying, he scribbled these words. I should like to share them with you, now, before you leave me to carry on with your lives. I think he would have wished me to do it.”
She held the paper at arm’s length as if to read, but she simply closed her eyes and recited the words from memory. “‘Live life wisely, and have a care for the passage of time. For our world is a garden and we are like roses. Our blooms open and spread over others fading nearby. In time, new buds shall surely come, and they will bloom fresh and fragrant near our own withering petals. It is the cycle of life—the way it ought to be … and it is good. “‘
It was Friday, the twenty-fourth of May in the year 1213 when the pilgrims rose to begin their journey home. The dawn was bright and warm; cocks and songbirds filled the air with the sounds of springtime. A light dew lay upon the green grass, and a gentle mist hung lightly over Lago Maggiore. The cliff-top fortress was beginning to bustle with the tasks of a new day, but few gave any notice to the travelers gathering at the gate. Only one servant was waiting for the group as they organized themselves. He was a disinterested young man who led them through the gate and to a braying Paulus tethered to a post just beyond.
Maria ran to her four-legged friend and hugged his long face. “I love you, dear Paulus! We shall go far away together.” Solomon walked a tentative circle around the animal. He had been kicked twice and bit once over the past months.