Igniting the engine, she managed to maneuver the pear hour; en route gave him a brief tour of Piazza Della Republica and Piazzale Michelangelo, known for the aerial view of entire Florence. Driving for another few minutes they reached the base of Abbey of San Miniato. Hike up to the 12th century Church; they stood at the highest point in Florence. With their backs facing the church, it gave them an enchanting panoramic view of the city. The iconic Duomo, cathedral, and the bell tower dominated the skyline. Sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and yellow, the city shown back, clean and naïve; oblivious to its rich Renaissance art and magnificent history.
He was so deeply immersed that she found herself stealing glances at him; the stubble and the tan on his perfectly chiseled physique spoke of his recent on board activities.
Both of them then took a short tour of the basilica; admiring the Romanesque interior filled with beautiful mosaics, statues, and ornate paintings. Out in the open was a cemetery at the back which was as marvelling and as serene as the surrounding. Given the penchant for paranormal activities, they remembered of their ghost hunting days back at their respective cities.
“Does this remind you of anything?” she asked. “Very well, Pinocchio!” he grinned. Frantically, they started to search for his curator, Carlo Collodi’s grave. Having failed at the attempt he hinted to check for his original name Carlo Lorenzini, under which they found his tomb. The life-size sculptures were one of a kind; each tomb had a story to orate. Always up to some mischief, they took turns to amuse the fellow admirers with their timely comebacks while reading the tombstones.
It was way past sun down when she suggested they make a move. “Where are we heading next?”
“Surprise,” she winked at him.
The two-hour drive down to the remote town of Pienza in the Southern Tuscan province wasn’t disappointing. A charming village standing high atop a hill dominated the magical UNESCO World Heritage Site of the Val d’Orcia.
Winding their way through the rolling hills was tranquillizing; the night air was cold and calm. Both of them had been soaking up the atmosphere of the entire journey without the distraction of conversation.
All this while, he wondered how his presence mattered to her. What role did he have to play tonight? He had hurt her, had been a disappointment, yet today he accompanied her. She did not show any signs of grudges, perhaps, she was good at hiding. He killed his curiosity for some time and waited for the course of events. He was enjoying the tour, though.
As they reached Palazzo Piccolomini, she turned down the engine and stepped out. She entered the piazza few yards away, he followed suit. “This place is amazing,” he said, walking at the back of the Palazzo. To the east was a Loggia on all three floors overlooking a delightful hanging garden. It provided spectacular panoramas of the distant landscape of Val d’Orcia and Mount Amiata.
“This place is indeed the ideal city of Renaissance. It is where parts of the famous Romeo and Juliet were filmed,” she replied smilingly. “Are you kidding me?” his skepticism evident. “How do you know?”
She had a good laugh. “Just happened to happen. Coincidence, that I’m here.”
It was half past nine at night while they strolled on Pienza’s cobbled streets. Each lane well light up, perfect and in a proportional ensemble; as if they were admiring a medieval era painting.
“Up for some hike?” she asked stopping in the middle of an alleyway.
“Whatever you say, mate,” he smiled. “I know it would be worth it.”
Back in her Beetle, she let her guards down and allowed her hair strands to breathe the country air. She drove for another few miles and then took a right turn heading for Rocca D’Orcia, the highest town in the valley. She parked her car at the foot of the steep slope leading up to the fortress Rocca di Tentennano. The walls of the town contained the entrance courtyard of the fortress. They started to walk along the Cyprus lined hill that leads to the main entrance. The gate which opened onto the second walled circuit enclosed the area they stood.
“This fortress that we are heading to was built between 1250 and 1258. It holds equal religious and military importance as much as historic,” she explained.”There once were buildings, squares, and streets.”
“That one on the pinnacle, is that where we’re going?” he asked, pointing north-east.
“We’re heading for the terrace of that tower,” she replied.
Arriving at the extreme north of the plateau, they had a splendid view of the valley. They climbed up a series of steps reaching the mound. It consisted of a pentagonal area deprived of plants enclosed by a wall; they could see the traces of battlement. A yard ahead they came across a metal stairway which allowed them to reach the entrance of the tower. The pentagonal tower was two storeyed. Before entering it, he admired the arch openings and the beautiful limestone wall of which the whole fortress was built. Passing through the arch door, they entered the internal zone.
