Nearby and far off, the contradaioli shouted, "Behold our Queen!" And in their fervor they rushed to kiss her, to fling their arms about her, but she flattened her ears and laid her teeth bare. The crowd applauded, admiring her spirit. "Let her fantino greet her for us," an old man called out.
Giorgio went to her, and eye to clear eye was threaded. For a long second he let her snuff the quiet of his hands. Then with her barbaresco he accompanied her to the manger at the head table. It was brimful of oats, with apples and carrots sliced in among the plump kernels. Knowing her love of salt, he picked up a shaker from the table and salted her dinner well.
"Buon appetito!" someone cried, and immediately Gaudenzia plunged her muzzle into the manger as if she understood the toast.
Joy rose to incredible heights. Fingers that failed to touch Gaudenzia now reached out and touched Giorgio as he took his place between Captain Tortorelli and the General.
At last the feast that was weeks in the preparing was brought in—plates of antipasto, platters of steaming chicken, and bowls of spaghetti in meat sauce. It surprised Giorgio that he was heaping his plate high, eating with gusto, and singing between mouthfuls, singing at the top of his lungs.
"Of you we are proud!" the General beamed. "You eat and sing for the Umbrella Man, too. He was a fine eater, that one."
The speeches came next. Long ones, short ones. But Giorgio enjoyed most the tributes addressed to Gaudenzia directly: "Thank you, Gaudenzia, for the beautiful Palio you have conquered for us; for the rewarding of our secret, tenacious belief in you. Have your sensitive ears heard the saying: 'Fate is Queen of the Palio'? Believe it not. For now there is a new Queen, and her name is Gaudenzia!"