The Dungeon Poem by David Lewis Paget

From the Minappartamento
In the middle of the night,
We walked the old Piazza
Lit by just a single light,
I could see the Madonnina
Where she overlooked Milan,
But then mia Carrenina
Shivered, so I took her hand.

We were headed for the Church
Santa Maria, in the gloom,
That held the first segreta prigione,
The torture room,
It was down below the basement
And forbidden every day,
By the Friar, Alessandro
Who kept sending us away.

Carrenina was determined
She had seen the manuscripts,
Telling of Contessa Roma
Last seen heading to its depths,
With her lover, Count Lorenzo
To be questioned there in chains
For the sins of fornication
And adultery, were the claims.

They were never seen again, and the
Franciscans would not tell,
In a secret inquisition
They sped wayward souls to hell,
But my Carrenina hungered
To complete her family tree,
It had ended there with Roma,
Rousing curiosity.

The Church door lock was ancient
And it snapped with just a twist,
So we ventured through the shadows
Found the door we'd almost missed,
Then we stepped down to the basement
Had to break two other locks,
That revealed another staircase
That was made of limestone blocks.

The air was damp and musty
There was mildew on the wall,
But the instruments of torture
Rusted there, around the hall,
There the rack and the strappado
Were like monsters from the past,
But the Judas Cradle caught the eye
Of Carrenina last.

There were awful iron cages where
The bones were still intact,
Looking hopelessly below them
As their wives and sons were racked,
But we finally turned slowly
To inspect the furthest wall,
When Carrenina cried on out;
We read, and were appalled.

The mildew scraped away to read
Lorenzo, on one stone,
Beside it, one said Roma
And the silence down there groaned,
For we knew that we had found them,
That the Franciscans had lied,
They had bricked them up behind that wall
While they were still alive.

There were hammers by the bootikens
That lay all stained in blood,
There were chisels for some torture
Staked in blocks of spattered wood,
So I seized them and attacked the wall,
‘By God, we'll set them free, '
I said to Carrenina as she
Wept, and clung to me.

The mortar had turned sandy so
It powdered with each clout,
And loosened up Lorenzo's block,
I slowly edged it out,
He lay within a coffin space
His head the closest view,
But on his side, his arm thrust in,
A space they'd left them to.

One stone between their coffins
Left a hole between each space,
Enough for him to reach on through,
Hold hands, or touch her face,
But when the Roma block was moved
We saw the state of things,
Lorenzo's hand was round her throat
Still girt with ducal rings.

He'd strangled her, his mi amore,
To still her pain and fears,
When death was stalking both of them
Walled up, and she in tears,
We moved his hand to clasp on hers
Though centuries passed them by,
But as we turned to leave that place
I swear, I heard them sigh!

3 January 2013