In the novel, the title ‘Count’ is reserved for my villain, the Count of San Bonifacio. But if I were to mention the Count to my wife, she would respond with a smile and a joke about pouring coffee.
Jan and I were married in 2002. Our honeymoon also served as a research trip. Of the three months we spent touring Europe, starting in Greece and ending in London, fully a month of it was spent in Italy. Of that month, a week was spent in Verona. Thanks to the advice of photo-journalist David Turnley, a family friend, I had been in contact with city officials. Antonella Leonardo, an assistant minister of culture I had corresponded with, had arranged for us to stay at the Hotel Milano, that backs up onto the Arena. Very nice.
As I’ve said elsewhere, Antonella arranged every meeting I had in Verona. It was June, and Italy was experiencing a major heat wave, so there were a lot of dinner-time meetings. Rita Severi and her husband and daughter were going to take us out one night. That afternoon I placed a call to a number Antonella had given me. A teenage girl answered, "Pronto."
I said something like, "I’m looking for the Count."
"My father isn’t here. Leave your name and he’ll ring you back."
I did and minutes before we were to leave to meet Rita the phone rang again. "Hello?"
"Hello. This is Piere-Alvins, the Count of Serego-Alighieri."
"Hi! Um, my name is David Blixt. I’m writing a book about Shakespeare and Dante, and one of the main characters is Dante’s son, Pietro. I was, ah, wondering if I could come out and – speak to you."
"How long are you in Verona?"
"Until Saturday."
"Come up tomorrow morning. 10 o’clock. Yes?"
"Yes! We’ll be there!"
He gave me a few directions for the cab driver, then we rang off. I was as nervous as I was excited. Jan and I headed out the door to meet Rita at the city library. That night at dinner we mentioned our coming visit with the Count. Rita was disgusted. "There are no titles in Italy any more!" she said, bemoaning the continuation of ‘honorary’ titles.
But it didn’t stop me from being trepidacious about meeting the Count the next day.
