“Don’t you worry someone else got to it first?”
“Anyone who finds treasure brags about it.”
Silvio wondered how Domenica knew things for certain. “I haven’t heard a word about the treasure, so maybe—” he reasoned aloud.
“Because it hasn’t been found! There’s your proof!” Domenica was impatient and couldn’t get the words out fast enough to explain the urgency of this mission to her friend. “When the pearls and the diamonds were stolen on Capri by pirates before the Great War, first they went to Sardinia to hide them. Then Ischia. Then Elba. They stopped in Ustica. Corsica. Finally they came ashore right here, on this beach. They hid the jewels here. It’s for certain. Many people in Viareggio saw the pirates come and go. When they left, the pirates got back on their ship to sail to Greece to steal more, but they were all killed off the coast of Malta in a bloody battle unlike any the people there had ever seen! Throats were slashed! Brains were bludgeoned! The priest lost both arms!”
“All right, all right.” Silvio wiped the sweat from his face on his sleeve.
“But the treasure survived! Because it’s here. Hidden in Viareggio, the best place to hide what must not be found except by the people doing the hiding because we have the dunes, the forests, the canals, the marble mountains! Trails and paths and secret roads that lead to grottoes! Don’t forget. Napoleon himself put his sister here and no one knew!”
“Princess Borghese of Tuscany. My great-grandfather groomed her horse.”
“Okay, so the locals knew. It doesn’t matter,” Domenica assured him. “The law says, if the missing treasure is not claimed by the owners within three years, whomever finds the lost treasure on Italian soil owns it outright. That could be us. It will be us!”
“But this beach goes on for miles. There are hundreds of coves,” Silvio complained. “The dunes have two sides, like the mountains. They could have buried it anywhere. And what if they escaped into the forest or up into the Alpi Apuane? What if they left it up there somewhere? How will we know where to dig? It’s impossible.”
Domenica stopped to consider their options. Her feet sank into the soft sand by the water’s edge. She allowed the gentle lapping of the incoming tide to fill in the impressions around her feet. She sank ankle deep into the cool sand until she was eye to eye with Silvio. His curly hair was thick from the ocean mist, making him seem taller than her at last. Domenica stood up straight so he wouldn’t be. “Do you want to find the buried treasure or not? Because if you don’t, I can do this by myself. And if I am alone when I find it, I don’t have to share it with you.”
“I don’t want to miss the festival at Chiesa della Santissima Annunziata,” Silvio lamented. “This is the day of the bomboloni.”
“Is that all? A doughnut is more important to you than a lifetime of riches?” Domenica tried to balance herself by putting her hand on his shoulder, but her feet were stuck like two rubber stoppers in the wet sand. Silvio gave her a good yank to release her, but instead they tumbled onto the beach laughing.
“The map!” Domenica held the parchment cylinder high in the air to keep it dry.
Silvio snatched it and stood. “I’ve got it.”
“Thief!” A voice bellowed from the peak of the dune behind them. The children looked back to see Signore Aniballi, the town librarian, looming over them wearing his rumpled waistcoat and wool pants. “Bring that map back to me! Subito!”
Domenica grabbed the map from Silvio and began to run down the beach.
Silvio ran after Domenica.
“I thought no one saw you!” Domenica panted as Silvio caught up with her. A pack of boys appeared on the peak and formed a line like a row of black crows on a wire.
Aniballi pointed. “There he is! The Birtolini boy! Get him!”
Aniballi’s army scattered down the dunes. When the boys reached the beach, they began to chase Domenica and Silvio along the water’s edge. Aniballi slid down the sandy hill in his work oxfords, until his feet got tangled in seaweed. He fell forward and tumbled down to the beach. He stood, cursed, dusted off his trousers, checked the pocket of his waistcoat for his watch, making certain it had not been damaged in the fall, and followed the boys.
Domenica and Silvio ran down the beach; the mob followed them. Domenica’s heart pounded in her chest. It felt as though it might burst through her skin, yet she relished the feeling of danger from the thrill of being chased. She heard her name called but ignored it and ran faster. She pretended the map was a baton in a foot race. She held it high in the air, kicked back her heels, and pumped her arms. Her jumper, which her mother had noticed was too short and needed the hem let out, was the right length for a chase. She had speed.
The boys’ taunts carried over the sound of the surf. Domenica ignored the insults, but Silvio heard them and was afraid. His heart was pounding for a different reason from hers. The mob had chased Silvio before. When he was alone, he had only himself to worry about. He could calculate exactly how long it took for the bullies to lose interest in the chase, and knew where he could hide to wait it out. Domenica was slowing him down, but he would not leave her. He kept pace with his friend to protect her.
“This way!” Domenica pivoted. She scanned the beach and scrambled across the sand to the dunes in the direction of the steps that led up to the boardwalk.
Silvio stopped. “No, this way!” He pointed to the dune that would take them into the pine woods, where he knew of places to hide.
“Follow me!” She ran.
Silvio followed behind her. The boys, who were bigger and faster, soon gained on them.
“Papa’s shop! Come on!” Domenica panted as Silvio joined her at the bottom of the steps. Together they had turned to climb the steps when Domenica heard a loud thump.
A spray of blood exploded in the air like red pearls.