Peroe

A story about a village guard in middle ages in Italy who is to defend his village and his beloved.

 The bandits were coming. Peroe, the only village guard of Albino, had been gazing at north for a long while. An ache started inside his neck, so he lowered his head and rolled his neck. The back of his neck made a “ka-ka” sound as he stretched it. He wrapped his sweaty left palm around the bow and pulled the bowstring back with two of his fingers. He didn’t draw back the string until his right elbow touched his ear, like what his teacher, Levitate, taught him. Instead, he released it half way in order that he may hear the sound of the bowstring swinging through the air. The sound broke the silence of the empty valley. There was nobody there except for him. About this time, the sun was right above his head, and the shadows shrank to their very minimum. He was waiting for the bandits to come, so he could shoot arrows at them. If they came close, he would pull out his sword and take an ox guard ready for some contacts. They could come at any time: before sunset, the next day, or not at all. But before they appeared at the end of the Piz Bernina pass, his watch for a plundering was a continuous series of anxiety and minor disappointments. However, he kept waiting.

There was a poor harvest this year in the north, as a result of half a year of droughts. It snowed right after October and a famine was expected. During famines, some bandits, who were normally tame peasants living off the mountains in a good year, would climb over Piz Bernina and loot around the area near Milan. Everybody in the village would be waiting, or more ironically, expecting the terror of the bandits’ blades to drive away their fear for the uncertainty of their future. “When will they come?” The same questions were asked by peasant children to their parents, then peasants to their landowners, then everyone to the priest Father Sarleno, and then Father Sarleno to God. Each time, the question was asked in a more serious and terrific voice. God might not answer Father Sarleno’s question, so he approached Peroe. Father Sarleno was an ugly man. It might be blasphemy to call an old priest ugly, but what else could one who saw Sarleno say if his face was deformed by several severe cuts of swords and hatchets? The tortures that were piled on Father Sarleno’s face made it look like a rotten apple dropped to the dusty ground after someone took a big bite out of it. This old man was about to raise some money to make an offering, which upset Peroe. The village paid him to be a village guard, so wouldn’t fighting against bandits be one of his obligations?

Peroe’s father Lucas, was a merchant from Venice who fell in love with his mother Bianca during his short stay at Albino. Lucas then extended his stay to a whole winter period before leaving for the north the next spring. However, he did not make it back. Bianca died while giving birth to their son and left the child for the whole village to take care of. Peroe went to learn archery and swordsmanship at the age of ten. He returned after mastering both in seven years. His teacher Levitate used to be a bowman in the mercenary in south Italy until he hurt his left knee at a shameful retreat. With a leaping leg, Levitate could not teach Peroe any beautiful moves. What Peroe learned was all basic, simple and lethal. He did not try them on the battle field as he found the battles meaningless. One day the mercenary would join with Duke of Milan and fight against the French, but the other day they would be hired by the French to point their weapons at the Italian. He could not find justice on either side, so he decided to go back to Albino with a guilt wish that he could practice these skills at some point.

Father Sarleno asked whether he wanted to farm when he came back. The church owned an abandoned farmland lot which nobody had farmed for long time, because it was too far from the well. Had he decided to become a peasant, it would only take a few years of persistent efforts before he was affluent enough to marry a wife and breed some children. Peroe pondered upon Sarleno’s offer for a moment, staring at the sword that stood against the wall of the shelter Father Sarleno found for him. The cross-guard of the sword pointed up like a bull angled his horns at Peroe. Peroe was afraid that after several years of ranch work, he would forget how to swing a sword and draw a bow like a real warrior. He figured that it was too early for him, his sword and bow to rest in peace.

“Then you could be a village guard,” Sarleno suggested. Peroe took little pay and patrolled at night to protect against thieves stealing cattle. Kids and young guys often tried to convince him to show some splendid moves, like Zornhau—the Strike of Wrath, swinging his sword to cut his enemy’s sword in the middle with a thunderous crash God often used to extinct His disobedient. Peroe, though, was never persuaded. He still remembered Levitate’s teaching, “do not mistake what earns you life with what earns applauses.” Levitate enforced this rule by hitting the back of Peroe’s knees with the flat of the sword, whenever Peroe was focusing more about how to throw a pretty strike rather than a solid one. Even more, Peroe never practiced in the village during the day-time either. Every night, after he had patrolled around the village twenty times and it was not long before the sunrise, he walked two miles towards Piz Biernna. The path led to a highland where the Piz Bernina pass started. A two-story tower was built there to give merchants a place to lodge before they headed up or came down the mountain. Three hundred steps away from this tower, the wide path narrowed into a one-man wide rugged path, which rose in height quickly and led into the woods.

From the highland, the view of Albino was rarely impeded. Peroe saw several rows of houses that stretched in all directions from the church in the center of the village. The bright moonlight casted a distorted shadow of a Holy cross on top of the church on the village ground, which looked more like an “X” rather than a “+”. Squares of farmlands after harvest scattered around the village. The main road which brought in the merchants from far away passed through the farmlands.

Peroe enjoyed the night scene of the village when he practiced swordsmanship and archery. He countered his imaged enemy with either Zwerchau-the Cross Strike or Middlehal—the Middle Cut. The point of the sword circled nicely, as Levitate commented before, just like drawing a circle with a quill pen on a diagonal plane that stood between him and his enemy. The sword swished through the air. It sounded louder and louder to Peroe as he indulged himself more and more into a cycling loop of moves: striking, pull-back, defending and resuming at guard. He was dripping with sweat before the day was dawning and it was time for him to go back.

As time passed, some young folks in the village began to modestly mock at Peroe’s self-perceived title as a swordsman. When he wandered around the village during the day, someone would often come up to him, bowed and said in a teasing manner, “Good day, Signore!” Peroe always blushed at the greeting. He darted a look at the girls gathered by the well on the village ground to do laundry, hoping that Veronica, the daughter of Leonardo, who was a landowner in the village, was not there. He begged quietly, “Stop it, please. Anteno, we grew up together. Why would you make fun of me like this?” The guy, who sometimes was Anteno and sometimes Conforti, laughed out and left asking, “Peroe, next time when you are about to fight against a thief, please let us know…”

Old folks in the village were more forgiving and never out-rightly questioned Peroe. He was, after all, a fine young man, and was absolutely capable of scaring away the thieves and ghosts at night.

Peroe was not happy about these suspicions, and knew that a perfect performance would solve all the questions and maybe gain him more attention from Veronica. Girls, including Veronica, were obsessed with Chivalric Romance. However, they always mistook those escorts coming along with the merchants lodging at the inn for knights. Peroe knew the difference between escorts and knights. Knights fought for justice and pride, while escorts and mercenary fought for money. He wanted a chance to show everyone the difference and the bandits were coming.

Peroe argued to persuade Father Sarleno. “Father Sarleno, all I need are, all the arrows in the village so that I can shoot, a shield so that I can defense, a flint and some oil-soaked straws so that I can start a fire to delay them and signal to the village. These are all the remedies I ask for to not postpone a fight to its very disadvantages to us. And then, let’s take an appeal to Heaven!” Peroe acted as if he were Cicero preaching in front of Senatus about the necessity of a war and he was amazed by his eloquence out of a longing for a just battle. However, it was the last sentence that really convinced Sarleno, who figured that Peroe volunteering to fight might be God’s will.

The words were quickly spread around. Many villagers came to greet Peroe, including Anteno and Conforti. He expected this. What he didn’t expect was an encounter with Veronica during a hot noon when the sun set high in the sky and the heat kept every other villager stay in. Peroe sat under an Olive tree, drowsing. Veronica suddenly tapped him on his shoulder from the side. He awoke with a happy surprise and yet did not know what to say.

“So, I heard that you are to fight against the bandits.” Veronica said as she sat down by him, with her knees bent up.

“Ye…yes, I just wanted to do something right for our village,” he replied.

“It was very brave of you.” Veronica said, turning her head to him and resting it on her knees. Her eyes were shining like water waves from a barrel bouncing around, reflecting the sunshine in small, broken bits.

Peroe was distracted by her eyes. “Oh, no…no…I mean yes, hmmm… I’m just doing my job.”

“So you are really good at bows? And swords?” Veronica’s voice was carrying a curiosity.

“Yes, I am. I can shoot a sparrow’s left eye from fifty steps away.” Peroe figured out a way to describe to Veronica how good he is.

“I wouldn’t want to see that. So who did you learn it from?”

“My teacher, Levitate. He fought for Duke of Florence before…” Peroe then went on to tell her the seven years he spent with Levitate. The story of how Levitate saved him, who was a ten-year-old boy, from a group of muggers amazed Veronica. Of course Peroe left out some details, like Levitate shoot all five muggers in the eyes. Also, the first thing Levitate asked Peroe to do after the battle was to recollect these arrows from the corpses, because he left the army and became a hunter and arrows were too expensive to be squandered. The time went by fast when Peroe recounted the good time he had with his tough but father-like feather. He sometimes paused and looked at the distance, thinking about the world outside the village and recalling the anxiety he felt when he went through all of those. One thing he felt happy about was that even when they were not talking, the moment of silence appeared comfortable to him, and probably same to her. That level of intimacy was something he could only dreamed of before. However, a destined question eventually came.

“So where is he now?” Veronica asked.

The nostalgia look on Peroe’s face faded and he knitted his eyebrows as a sign of sadness and seriousness. “He died, out of…black plague. I burned his body…I’m clean…I mean, I’m here alive.” He feared that this would scare Veronica away like a rabbit ran away hearing the hunters’ footsteps. But she didn’t react anything differently than before. She thought for a second and said, “ I think you should get baptized. God’s blessings could remove any devil curses. I’m getting baptized in a month, do you want to do it with me?”

“Yes,” Peroe answered hesitantly, but said the second half of the answer in mind: but only if I survive.

Veronica continued as if she could read his mind, “Peroe, I think you are settled in God’s hands. We all are. I know people made fun of you before because they couldn’t handle the truth that you are both their fellowman and a swordman, one who we used to know only in a distance. I trust that you have the strengths to protect us. I trust you. we all trust you.”

Peroe, for the first time, stared at her with gratitude, for her precise understanding. He found that she was not only pretty but also smart and perceptive. She could understand him and give him confidence like watering the lands.

“I have to go now. My sisters might be up now and I need to take care of them. My father doesn’t want me out that much. But he wants me to go to the inn more often. How ironic is that? He thinks a wealthy husband is all I need to have a happy life. I don’t know. I’m not that mature.” Peroe thought it was best for him to say nothing, as he was not that close to Leonardo to comment on this.

“Anyway, Peroe,” Before she got up, she leaned towards Peroe and kissed Peroe on his cheek, just like a sparrow landed on the ground for a short land and flew away. “Buona fortuna, Peroe.” Veronica ran away. Peroe was left there idling, ruminating every word of the conversation. Leonardo had always wanted his daughter to marry a Venetian merchant, so that her husband could take Veronica to big cities and enjoy a wealthy life. Being honest, Leonardo was nice to peasants, but was not nice enough to agree to marry his daughter to anyone of them. A village guard with no land to live off of would have a even smaller chance, but what if he defeated the bandits and saved the village?

The scorching heat in the valley reminded him of that noon when he talked with Veronica. Thinking of her, his heart bounced faster. His thought went beyond the near future and the coming attack. He could marry her. Also, if she demanded, he would move to Venice—even become an escort to offer her a happy life. This sort of day-dreaming pulled the trigger of ambition inside his body, and another voice of him had to jump in and say, “Stop it, Peroe. You have to focus on how to win the battle first. Forget about all other good things at this moment, for the sake of getting a chance to embrace them later on.”

A man riding a horse appeared at the turning of the mountain path. He was holding a sword. Then another two footmen, each holding spears. Then more people without horses appeared—some holding bows, some holding axes. They were all in rugged clothes. “The bandits are here?!” Peroe exclaimed. All the blood seemed to rush Peroe’s head as he fainted for a breathe or two. He took a deep breath and started counting the people and devising the action plan. There were eight people coming from three hundred steps away. His bow could reach two hundred steps and he could shoot three or four rounds before they came close. He would shoot at the man with the sword first, then the two men with bows. He would leave those with axes till later. But he had to kill the spearmen before they could reach him. Oh! He had to start the fire now to let the smoke rise. An arrow would slow them down to earn enough time. He picked up an arrow and the bow, and then pointed the bow down to attach the nock of the arrow to the bowstring with his index- and middle-fingers. He fully drew back the bowstring until the nock’s feather touched his right cheek, where Veronica kissed. He targeted at the horseman in the front, recalling Levitate’s words, “relax, take a deeper breath, be very confident about yourself…” “…because you know you are doing a right thing and God is always with you.” He repeated the teaching in his mind and released the fingers of his string hand.

After the village was rebuilt, Peroe’s tomb was placed by the two-story tower on the highland. A poem was engraved on his tombstone. A bard traveled by and sang this poem in every village of South Italy until every kid knew it. Anteno and Conforti left to join the army Duke of Florence called for defense against the French. Veronica fulfilled her father’s will and married a merchant from Venice. They led a very happy life.

“His yew bow
With silver string and oak arrow,
Poured down the Wrath of God
Upon those wicked and savage.
His steel sword,
Went after the throats of those
Who were damned to pillage and burn,
And established justice with the righteousness of Lord.
After the thunders and bolts,
The mandate of Heaven came down
And called upon him to serve the Almighty in his eternity.”