Monday morning, and it’s time to say goodbye to Noto and drive towards Agrigento Province. Along the way, a visit is planned at Castello della Donnafugatta. This enormous 14th century Norman fortress is far into the countryside of southeast Sicily near the city of Ragusa. The narrow roads are flanked by groves of olive trees growing in clusters on the gentle hills leading to the estate. Sunlight plays on the grey-green-silvery leaves under a hazy blue sky.
The castle comes with the legend of Bianca di Navarre, the daughter of Charles III of Navarre. She was married to Martino I of Aragon in 1402. It was a political union between two feudal families. Bianca lived at the Castle while managing the affairs of nine cities in eastern Sicily. Martino died in 1409 while in Sardinia. A decision was made to marry her to Bernardo Cabrera, an advisor of the Navarre family. Bianca objected to marrying the much older man and decided to flee into the countryside to escape; hence the name, donna fugatta, fugitive woman.
The driver dropped me off at the main gate for the afternoon. I walked toward the great house by a row of old stone structures lining the main entryway on both sides. They might once have been vendor stalls. All are odd, dilapidated one room huts open to the sky. I thought I’d see goats at any moment. surrounded by a traditional courtyard complete with tall, strong wooden gates.
The castle has fifty public rooms to stroll through including Bianca’s private suite. Guests and family walk up a wide two tiered staircase to the living quarters on the first floor. Statues of maidens greet visitors at each turn. Just as I entered the first public room, a school group of 10 year old children arrived. I stood back and realized it was a chance to tag along and listen to their group leader describe in Italian what was special about the rooms. She spoke slowly and clearly, but my ability to follow was poor. The rooms are well proportioned with fine woodwork and furniture. Every inch holds a small treasure of art and design. The ceilings are embellished with ancient Greek legends. Many of the walls are painted with local scenery. Curtains of heavy green brocade meant to block the hot sun draped around tall windows. The music room is distinguished with pianoforte, violin and flute. The ceilings are adorned in eggshell blue frieze. The condition of the furniture was superb, but of course, no touching or sitting permitted.
Bianca’s suite is predominantly white. Her apartments are lavish with a waiting room, bedroom with a full canopied bed, and something rare in such a home: privacy. Even the floors in her suite are laid with beautiful white limestone. On, and on I wandered along hallways into a mirrored room, billiards room and more. The Castle appears to be well cared for with fine furniture, statuary and gardens as they might have been in the day.
After a tiring stroll through the castle. The extensive gardens felt welcoming with great magnolia trees and a stone labyrinth. A boy was jumping up trying to see the way out of the maze. A stroll inside was a possibility but the thought of wandering around and around completely lost kept me outside. There was a side garden with large clumps of lavender and rosemary. Everything grew in abundance in this environment. The shrubs easily reached my shoulder. There was no apparent source of water yet all plants and trees were quite mature.
The shade was inviting, I sat down under a large tree and started lacing long strands of lavender together in a braid. The warmth of the air and hum of the bees created a languid atmosphere. As I wove, smelling the fragrant flowers, I drifted out of focus into a pleasant dreamy state of being.
As quick as a blink, I had a vision into another lifetime. I saw myself in Ortygia, having come from Cyprus during the reign of the Greeks. My parents watched me go from the dock. The sense of departure was strong. Am I being sold, or given away? They did not stop or protest my parting. Neither was I panicked. I was on a skiff sailing out of the harbor on an overcast day. I could see the wooden oars lift and splash the water. I was taken to Ortygia and became a basket weaver at the fount of Arethusa at the edge of the sea.
I worked in the shadows and led a quiet life. I had long brown blonde streaked hair tied on the sides with strands of thin leather. The hair was down my back. My skin liked the sun and was perpetually bronze. My eyes were grey, green and blue. I could feel the thin leather sandals on my feet. I hardly took them off. There was a strip of leather around the big toe and around the instep, heel and ankle. My toes hung over the edge a little. I was clean. My tunic was soft blue, green cloth. It draped to my shins. I had bracelets made of shells.
My company was mostly stray cats. They were a comfort to me here. Cats are friends of the goddess and trusted companions. There was a kinship between us. We could speak with each other. The human language spoken in Ortygia was unknown to me. Life was lonely. I had no relations and was an outsider. My task was to weave baskets for everyday use. My name was Talytga and I was around fourteen years old.
As quick as it was there; it was gone. On the little island of Ortygia, I walked around the fount and inside the hidden places nearby. The blue grey cast stones were still soothing to the eyes. The ducks still paddled softly through the reeds. The palm fronds made wonderful floor mats. The grape vine was good for oyster baskets. The slaves’ foot wash; a busy place then. This vision offers insight and possibly why I am so fascinated by Artemis and Sicily. The statue I saw at the square in Ortygia would not have been there but, I’ve traveled around here in another time.
My journey now, largely on my own, ought to have been intimidating. My disposition is not so brave. I have the odd moment of being homesick. I am by nature a homebody so two weeks into the journey, my thoughts naturally turn towards home. I never thought it odd to walk about in a foreign place. Is it because Sicily could never be strange to me? On a vacation to New Mexico, I walked about Albuquerque much the same way. I remember being in a canyon admiring petroglyphs, wandering around admiring the sacredness of the land. Is it just a high comfort with unknown places? Or, had I been there before as well?
Some of the echoes of that lifetime as Talytga follow into this one now. Stray cats find their way onto my doorstep back home. Wicker baskets are all around my house whether I need them or not. I enjoy working with my hands. I had a large bed of long stemmed lavender in the garden but the harsh winter took them away. A basket weaving workshop offered me an opportunity to create one with my own hands a year or two after this experience. My hands felt clumsy as I wove the lash together. It’s a pleasant thing to do but did not bring forth new memories.
Talytga often stood back and watched events around her. I don’t have the sense she is longing for home. But, she knows what happened. Curious, I had a distant relationship with my parents from an early age. The sensation of having been forgotten by them is constant. The name Cyprus is common to me and a pseudonym on different social media forums. Perhaps it was all a waking dream in that castle garden but it felt so compelling and satisfying in so many ways. Sicily, she opens many doors to the willing pilgrim.
This was becoming just that; an unplanned pilgrimage. I didn’t just see the stone walls and structures, I felt them. The sensation of sinking deeper into something else was close. The energy of all things and all ages is close. The living presence in the air, earth, water and sun are close. I am not alone.
A connection to some details of a previous existence came without drama while braiding lavender flowers seated in the courtyard at the Castle Donnafugata outside Ragusa, Sicily. Bees droning and the scent of rosemary set the scene for the slip behind the veil of the present to what had been. A few days before, I’d been at the Wellspring of the nymph Arethusa on the islet Ortygia. Legend has it, Artemis changed Arethusa into a freshwater stream to get her away from a harassing river god. A little way up the road, a large water fountain honoring the myth stands in Archimedes Square. In my glimpse of past life. I lived at the fount a few thousand years ago. I had a name, an image, and a glimpse into my old life. I was Talygta from Cyprus. A basket weaver brought there to serve the goddess.
LuceStellare 