It was a golden spring day when I arrived at Monteleone Castle. I had the privilege of spending an entire week there with Ginevra, my best friend since first grade, before her wedding was celebrated there.
The sun was filtering through the foliage of the trees, caressing the ancient walls of the fortress with a light that seemed suspended in time when I heard footsteps approaching; it was Mario, janitor and handyman of the manor.
Guinevere had told me a lot about him because not only was memory lost of when his family started working in the castle, but because Mario knew every stone and every flower every corner and every story.
The castle rises elegantly at the top of the village of Monteleone: but its properties other than various buildings are scattered like wildfire in the surrounding area, 300 hectares among neat vineyards, fields fragrant with wild herbs, silent woods and meadows dotted with flowers
Marco offers to accompany me and tell me about the manor house, as he likes to call it, and our visit begins at the small church. He leads me inside
and proudly shows me some of the beautiful rooms, all excellently maintained, those that as Marco tells me “have a history within history“ the large kitchen, the astronomy room, the library, the coat of arms room the bedrooms to outside in the beautiful Italian garden the bell tower and the watch tower. Time passes quickly and the sun is already setting.
Today´s journey has been long and tiring, and I ask permission to retire a little to rest. I climb the castle´s ancient stairs almost on tiptoe, guided by an inviting silence toward the room I have been assigned. I open a door ajar and find myself in a room with the scent of Cyrmol. The lit fireplace spreads an embracing warmth. I sit on a four-poster bed, covered with light veils and embroidered linen sheets. The lavender scent of the sheets envelops me, I close my eyes, perhaps only for a moment and already I am sleeping.
But that moment becomes a dream. In the dream I am here, but everything was different. The castle is alive with ladies and knights and flashlights lit along the corridors.…
