Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Angel Love for her editing to make this a better story.
The car, a long black limousine, had met my train in town. I barely had time to marvel at the quaintness of the small European village before the chauffeur had collected my bags and hastily trundled them out to the car, stowing them in the boot ... trunk, to an unknowing American ... and held the door for me to enter the back seat. We had followed the old narrow streets through town but were all too soon out in the countryside.
I marveled at the beauty of it. There were rolling hills covered in a patchwork of farm fields, all neatly divided by rows of trees or stone fences or an occasional babbling brook ... I'd often wondered what a babbling brook was but here were examples scattered throughout the countryside. Farmers were in the field, some mowing hay, others baling. Still others were cultivating for a second crop, turning under what looked like the stalks of corn plants. I was impressed by how neat and clean looking it was. There was very little trash along the roadside and the fence lines were trimmed and the grass had been freshly mowed. We passed near some low lying mountains that gave the terrain a special elegance and then the roadway began to climb.
Even at that we were only fifteen minutes out of town when the car slowed and made a left turn into a sweeping driveway. Along both sides was a row of carefully manicure trees. The grass was cut to perfection, as if trimmed by hand with every blade seemingly at just the right length. We passed plots of annual flowers with bright pinks and yellows between every second pair of trees and then the drive began a series of quick switchbacks that let us climb rapidly and, although we drove for maybe a mile, we only covered a few hundred yards as we climbed onto a plateau.
No sooner had we topped out on the plateau than I nearly lost my breath. There, in a long oval table top, was a sprawling castle worthy of any medieval tale. Only the moat was missing. Three stories tall in the shortest locations and probably five or six at the peaks, it seemed to be square, or maybe rectangular, with big round parapets at each corner and smaller high-peaked towers one third of the way along each wall. The tops of every turret displayed a flag blowing gently in the soft breeze. It was like a picture out of a child's storybook.
The driveway curved to the front of the castle and that is where the car stopped, although I noticed that the drive also continued along the far side of the huge building. The chauffeur came around the car and opened my door just as one of the front doors of the castle opened and a statuesque older gentlemen stepped out, followed by a whole stream of people dressed in various types of uniforms. They followed the first gentleman part way down the walk until he stopped, standing ramrod straight. The people silently divided and lined both sides of the walk, waiting at attention in total silence.
I stepped out into the sunlight, almost dazzled by the opulence that lay before me. In a trance, I stepped forward and was met by the old gentleman, who bowed slightly and said "Sir, welcome to Napoli Castle, your new home. I am Gerard and I am at your service, sir."
I stuck out my hand and reluctantly he shook it. I said "Very nice to meet you, Gerard. I am Edward Revere."
"Yes, sir. May I introduce you to your staff?" he asked, waving his hand at the two lines of people.
"Please, Gerard."
Gerard turned to his left and followed just a step behind me as we went down the line. He introduced me to a cook, a cook's maid, a downstairs maid, two upstairs maids, a handy man, a gardener, a gardener's helper, a mechanic, a husbandman, a husbandman's helper, a man-in-training, the chauffeur, and 29 personal assistants. Counting Gerard, it made for a staff of forty-three! There were nine men and thirty-four women! What did they all do? Even better, what was I, fresh from my accountant's job in the States, going to do to support all these people?
Without getting into more than names and positions, I gave each person a handshake and a "Hello. Nice to meet you" and we moved on. When we had finished the introductions, Gerard led me inside and the staff followed and he directed them to go about their business. Then Gerard showed me some of the downstairs rooms.
There was a formal living room, a place to receive guests except for the most casual occasions. It was huge, with a twelve-foot ceiling and took up half of the front section of the castle, probably about forty feet wide and about a hundred feet long. It was furnished in early antique, with lots of dark wood and even darker draperies and upholstery. There was a fireplace at one end and on the inside side wall were at least eight couches and more chairs than I could count quickly. There were coffee tables everywhere, most with heavy glass insets in heavy wooden bases, each with a vase of fresh-cut flowers. The walls were mostly covered with tapestries but there were several pieces of fine art around the room. No doubt the furnishings alone had cost more than my former house in total.
