Shadow Burial

By Victoria A. Carr

We giggled at Madam Esther's message-her warning! Her dark skin and bushy brows must have hidden the genuineness in her luminous, coal black eyes. She warned us both to remain in her wagon until the sun fell completely from the sky. She even begged our company while she ate, offering us biscuits and fresh goat's milk with honey. And though her offer was tempting, we believed her to be a daft, timeworn fortune teller. We had to be home to Padre before nightfall and her warning sounded more like a silly childhood nursery rhyme. But as the door blew shut after we exited her wagon, our giggles instantly turned to shivers as these cryptic, eerie words pursued after us like the brisk autumn winds, "A shadow buried beneath the Earth, to tame the wind and heal soil's mirth. At years end-a life is lost. One young girl will be the cost!"

Quickly pushing our feet through the red and orange leaves away from Madame Esther's wagon, we reached the footprint of our villa under construction. It was then that a shadow emerged from behind gnarled maple trees. Standing in front of my sister Maria and I, was an old man, bent so far forward his covered head seemed to drag the ground. He straightened up, loomed over us, and with a dark, crooked finger to his lips, silenced us. The heat emanated from his body like a burning stove, momentarily warming me from the cold, blustery wind. A burnt umber sun hung in the late evening sky, but was high enough to cast our shadows upon the villa's foundation. With the skill and agility of a tailor he stepped down into the footprint of the villa, and measured both our shadows. Maria pulled hard on my sleeve, urging us forward. I stood firmly rooted by disbelief and an odd curiosity! Smiling sinisterly, he mumbled something in a secret language, and then jumping out, retreated back into the shadows of the woods.

My sister and I recognized him as Cesare, a Zingaro Gypsy. Padre hired him as the mason for our country villa. As quickly as he was hired, Padre fired him for suspicious behavior. Padre refused to pay him, even for the work on the foundation. Our father, a man of great principles but also logical pride would not heed the village warnings. The villagers voiced, "Pay Cesare a fair wage for his work! He is old, feeble, and ambiguous-yes! But never cheat a Zingaro mason! Country life is full of aberrant dangers: woodland sprites, genii, sorcery, charms, and witchcraft!"

Padre threw up his hands and would have none of it! He was a man of science-a retired mathematician from Florence. He was not superstitious or a man of faith! Madre passed away several years ago, a devout catholic to the end. It was young Maria that finally convinced Padre to call upon the priest for her last rites.

Maria and I came home that night from the forest, and it was Maria, who told Padre about Cesare measuring our shadows and the warning from Madame Esther. He laughed and insisted that Cesare and Madame Esther were conspirators. Maria was not convinced and in the following months became increasingly anxious and despondent. The villagers continued to insist Padre pay his debt to Cesare. "Yes, there are those Zingaro's who are merely brightly garbed minstrels and showmen with dancing bears and trained monkeys! Yet you ignore that there are those notorious for sorcery, spells, and curses!

The baker Nikolai and his wife interpreted Madame Esther's warning. They explained how the custom of shadow burial was performed. "If you do not pay Cesare, either Maria or Lucia will die! He has measured their shadows and taped one of them in the foundation of your home. The only way to save their lives is to demolish your villa!"

"This is nonsense! I will call in a priest to bless our finished home and protect my daughters!"

This was Padre's only concession. Nikolai declared, "La Vecchione Religione has not been replaced and conquered by this Christianity! Catholic rites have no dominion in removing curses of shadow burial!"

But even as the priest recited his prayers and sprinkled his holy water, Padre and I did not believe in one or the other!

No one, not Nikolai, his wife, the villagers, or peasants had faith that the catholic priest had any dominion over the shadow burial curse. Warnings still echoed through the village, "He must demolish that home! End this curse, and spare the life of one of his innocent daughters!"

Yet he still refused to believe! I trusted Padre. But as time went on and the prattle escalated, I caught Maria staring out at the forest from the window of our completed villa, with a terrified gaze haunting her once soft brown eyes.

It was exactly a year later, on an early morning, the leaves had begun to drop, and ripe acorns fell as hard as rocks from the treetops that I found my sister dead! She looked incredibly peaceful with her covers up under her chin, warding off the damp chilly air. I pressed my lips to her cold forehead, a farewell kiss. She was now resting with our Madre and the curse which had been haunting her was satisfied only through her death. And with tears stinging my face, Madame Esther's baleful words rang in my ears like the church bells hollow echo in the cathedral, "A shadow buried beneath the Earth, to tame the wind and heal soil's mirth. At years end-a life is lost. One young girl will be the cost!"

Now I believe!