Lorenzo pushed open the double doors and stood aside to let Alex enter the room first. “This is the library, Alex.”
“Impressive,” he said, and walked in. Wall to wall glass fronted cabinets covered every inch of wall space, all crammed with leather-bound books from floor to ceiling.
“Wow! How cool is that! You’ve even got one of those ladders that wiz around the room on little casters. I’ve got to try that! I didn’t think people had them in their homes.”
Lorenzo shrugged, a little embarrassed.
“That’s not why I brought you in here. Look closer. There is something I think you will find very interesting.”
Two well-worn, leather sofas faced each other in the middle of the room, with a long, narrow table behind each of them. Beside the table lamps, there was the Italian daily newspaper, magazines and a tray housing a few pairs of reading glasses and pencils. On the floor, a deep, red, Persian rug bound the furniture together like an island. An impressive room, but Alex wondered why Lorenzo would be so keen to show it to him. He certainly didn’t intend to do any reading on holiday; that was for sure. Puzzles, he looked at Lorenzo.
“What, is it a test of some kind?”
Lorenzo gave him a shrug.
“Keep looking!” he said.
Alex scoured the room for a clue.
“What am I looking for?”
“OK, I’ll give you a hint. Something small and plentiful.”
“Small and plentiful?”
That wasn’t much help. The books were plentiful, but not particularly small.
“Come on, tell me! I give up, Lorenzo, tell me!” he said, walking round the room for a third time. “What is it?”
“OK, I’ll give you another hint. Look at the handles on the cabinets.”
Alex walked over to the nearest wall of cabinets to have a look. He stopped dead in his tracks when he recognized the symbol carved onto the round knob.
“A swastika!”
“Yes. On every handle.”
“But why, Lorenzo? Why swastikas? That’s pretty creepy.”
“The house was occupied by German officers during the war, and they left their mark.”
Alex walked around the room and checked every set of knobs. Lorenzo was right; they had left their mark, all right. Every single mahogany handle was beautifully engraved with a swastika. There must have been at least twenty pairs of them.
“Why didn’t your family have them removed after the war? It must be a horrible reminder every time anyone comes in here to grab a book. Why would anyone want to keep these swastikas on the handles?”
“I think for exactly that reason, Alex, as a reminder, so we never forget. If they had been removed, I, for one, would never have felt the significance of the occupation. And I, then would have been unable to show you. Seeing them so close, and being able to touch them like this, has shaken you in such a way that just telling you about it, would never have had the same impact. It is part of the house’s history. It cannot be erased. And I suppose it shouldn’t be.”
Alex thought of his bath upstairs. He wondered if some German officer had sat in it with the water almost up to his neck. He wondered who and looked into that same shaving mirror. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was more than a little creepy.
“Come, Alex,” Lorenzo said, leading him out of the library. “There’s something else I want to show you.”
“There’s more?” Alex wasn’t sure if he wanted to see more.
Lorenzo took Alex into another room across the main hallway, where a long mahogany table had ten high-backed chairs tucked in around it. It was obviously the dining room, Alex thought. The arched ceiling, with the wide, curved supporting beams reminded him of a cathedral. Between the beams were painted chubby cherubs, floating amongst the clouds. The cherubs were holding long scrolls, showing curly, Latin writing. Alex tried to read some of the script, thinking there might be a clue hidden there, but he couldn’t understand much at all, not because it was old and faded, but because he didn’t know the vocabulary. Now he wished he had opted for Latin at school. It would have been cool to be able to read it.
One section of the fresco nearest the fireplace, he noticed, was almost blackened from years of smoke escaping from the chimneybreast.
“Is that what you wanted to show me, the old chimneybreast? Or the scrolls up there in the cherubs hands?”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“Neither. You’re so, so cold. Keep looking.”
Alex examined the fireplace mantle. It was at least five feet high, and very deep. The grate was large enough to burn a couple of tree stumps the size of a car wheels. Impressive? Yes, but again, he wondered what he was supposed to be looking for. There wasn’t even a knob in the room, except for the two door handles, and he had already checked those for swastikas, none to report there. He checked the chairs to see if there was anything carved on them, but saw nothing really interesting. He searched the wooden floor for clues. Nothing.
Lorenzo had that grin on his face again, enjoying Alex’s confusion.
“I give up. Come on, give me a hint then,” Alex said at last.
“Look up at the ceiling again.”
Lorenzo pointed to the far end of the room.
“I thought you would be interested, Alex. Remember when we were planning our escape from the cave you told Gabriella and me about Colditz?”
“Yes, I do. But what am I looking at in here? I can’t see any swasti….” he stopped.
Looking up at the far end of the room, he saw what Lorenzo was talking about.
“Lorenzo,” he said slowly, hardly believing his eyes, “those aren’t… bullet holes, are they?”
“Semi-automatic rifle, I believe.”
Alex didn’t say a word. It sent a chill down his spine.