I still wait for you, Verde della Scala…

During the siege of Serravalle in 1337, a nameless knight fell in love with the woman he could never have. This is his voice. And his waiting.

You walked along the northern tower of the garden, gazing at the mountains that hemmed in the valley—who knows if to protect it or to stifle it—where the long-contested castle stood: the castle my lord had ordered us to take.

Only later did I realize that along those heavy walls you felt safe, and that was the only place that granted you a little respite from the pain of our siege.I watched you walk slowly along the bastion, and I felt my blood rush faster through my veins: but you were Verde della Scala, given in marriage to Rizzardo VI da Camino, made a widow far too soon. The weight of widowhood was not the only burden upon your delicate shoulders: now there was also the threat from my lords, Gherardo and Rizzardo da Camino of Sotto, who claimed an inheritance that, in their eyes, your three daughters did not deserve.To approach you would have been madness—I was but a soldier, a knight without merit. But the desire that had burned in me for months had scorched every fear, and perhaps, out of despair in knowing you would never be mine, that day I walked beside your weary steps. Your startled reaction, your scornful and incredulous gaze in the face of my audacity, failed to stop me. Of that first encounter, I remember only how you did not resist my presence and, in silence, continued to walk, allowing me to walk by your side. Why you did not cry out or rebel against my boldness, I never understood. Perhaps that reckless gesture managed to open a breach in your heart.

And so, you let me speak to you, during each of your walks along the curtain wall: it seemed like a sign—when I saw you climb toward the northern tower, I knew you would not protest my presence. You listened but never spoke. You wouldn’t let me hear the sound of your voice. At first, I thought it was noble reserve; then I began to suspect your silence was a way to test my resolve. Who would go on courting a silent woman, desperately, without the slightest hint of consent?

Only a man in love.

And so, you went on for days, patiently testing the perseverance of my heart. Eyes fixed on your footsteps, a serious expression, only your ear attentive to my words. I believe I loved you from the first moment, and even without hearing your voice, I knew who you were by what your eyes betrayed: the tenacity of a woman who, though left alone, was fighting against the injustice devised by my lords. The armor you too wore for your personal battle did not hide the unconditional love for your daughters, whom you were trying to defend with your resistance.

Then one day, upon reaching the eastern tower, you stopped. In silence. Your eyes caught mine without fear, and you stepped closer, gaze proud. I gave in, and I had to kiss you.I don’t know how long it lasted, I don’t remember how we returned to the castle—I lost memory of all that followed. I only know that the next morning the news came like a blade in battle: sudden, and merciless. You had left, yielding to the oppression of your cousins, returning to Verona, to your family—though not before securing an advantageous marriage for your daughter Beatrice.

I have never seen you again, Verde della Scala. I still wait for you on the towers of the castle, looking over Serravalle, hoping to see you return to me.