by Lory Kaufman
Agistino smiled broadly again, and a feeling of pride and excitement came into his voice.
"Yes, this was my idea. I had a glass maker pour molten glass into a wooden mold the approximate shape of a lens. This way a lot less filing is needed." Then he put his finger to his lips and whispered, "My shop, my secrets. You don't share secrets, eh? But now that I'm gone from Florence, the glass maker probably makes them for everyone."
Agistino put on a pair of large, round spectacles, securing them to his face with two stained pieces of ribbon. Then he donned a leather cap with long tails that drooped over each ear. Thus attired, he took to his craft. He picked up a hot lens blank with a pair of tongs, scooped out a dollop of the heated pitch with a stick, spread it on the back of the blank and then carefully attached it to the dop. While it hardened, the Master inspected Ugilino's progress with the grit. "Hmmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. Look here. In the fine grit are a few large pieces. You must grind them all properly and not miss one." When the Master turned, he was surprised to find Lincoln holding all the files in his hand.
"Wonderful, Maruccio. You hold those till I need them. You are all earning your food today," he pronounced. "Now boys, watch and learn." As he took his place on the bench he said, "We make three strengths of lenses. We will make the one for old people first, the most strong. From this blank, I must file some glass first." He held out his hand to Lincoln. Without hesitation, Lincoln handed him the correct rasp. Agistino smiled and held it up to show the others. Then he began turning the wheel.
"There's no zip, zip, zip," Hansum observed to Lincoln.
"That's cause it's only movin' one way," Lincoln answered.
Master della Cappa brought the tool in contact with the blank. Glass chips flew, hitting the Master's glasses and face. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, letting the shards beat against the leather hood.
"Hey, you're workin' with your eyes closed," Lincoln commented, amazed.
"I can feel the curve," the Master said. "Now hush!" He continued with the file for the better part of a minute, until the glass was much reduced. When Agistino did venture to open his eyes, he was pleased to see his newest two apprentices staring intently at what he was doing. He took the finer file from Lincoln and repeated the process. Then he started with the bowls and grit. Several of the bowls were wooden, not brass, but did the same thing. It took close to half an hour to complete the convex side of the lens and a similar time to finish the flat side.
"There. We have made one lens," the Master said, gently prying the lens off the dop. "Do you think you could make one, Romero?"
"Maybe not as well or as quickly as you, Master. But, yes."
"Okay then. You make the next lens."
"Hey," Ugilino shouted, "Master, that's not right! I'm the second boss. I should make the next lens!"
"Don't worry, Ugilino," Agistino said in a conciliatory fashion, "we'll teach you too. But these boys have a bit of experience. I want to see what they know."
"But I'm the older apprentice!"
"You're still the oldest, and ugliest. And I'm still the master! Do as I say!" he said testily.
"It's okay," Hansum said. "Ugilino can go first. I don't care."
Agistino became very angry, very quickly.
"Did you hear what I said? I want to see what you know." Hansum glanced at the scowling Ugilino. The Master raised his voice again. "Don't look at him. He does what he is told and so do you. I want to see what skills you have."
"Can Linc . . . I mean, can Maruccio help me?"
Chapter 33
Where Shamira found the market at the History Camp colorful and interesting, she found the real 1347 Veronian market place mind-boggling. It was filthy and unimaginably cruel in Shamira's eyes, but it was fascinating. The multitude of faces, the smells of the animals being made ready for sale, lumbering oxen and donkeys pulling carts, feces lying where it fell. There was the sound of haggling, vendors shouting about their wares and swarms of ragged children running wild, bumping into people. Guilietta pulled Shamira close.
"I must protect Papa's money," she said, patting the hidden bundle in her robes. "These children will steal it if we don't take care."
So they proceeded, arm in arm, into the heart of the market, both enthralled and intimidated by its vastness and variety. But above all the cacophony and tumult rose the still-stately ruins of the ancient Arena. It stood like a backdrop, visible from everywhere. Multi-tiered like all Roman arenas, many of its upper walls and pillars were missing.
Shamira felt many eyes fall upon her and Guilietta. Men winked or just stared. Some offered wares, others rude suggestions. They stopped at a vegetable stand and the proprietor took exception to Guilietta's comment about some beets he was trying to sell her. She looked him straight in the eye and said seriously, "Let's leave, Carmella. We'll buy our beets elsewhere." When they were back in the aisle, among the crowd, the girls began to giggle.
"Take care, Mistress," Pan whispered. "A ne'er-do-well approaches and he has his eye on you both."
"We are in danger," Shamira said out loud.
"Danger?" Guilietta gasped, pulling Shamira closer.
"I see a short knife, half hidden in the sleeve of his cassock," Pan continued. "I think he's a cut purse."
"A cut purse? A knife?" Shamira said.
"A knife?" Guilietta repeated, beginning to panic.
Shamira saw him, a walking pile of rags. His whole body was hidden beneath long robes, his face unrecognizable within the shadow of his cowl. Then she saw the hard shape of a rusted blade sticking out from one of the billowing sleeves. As the figure got close, it veered directly toward the girls. A boney hand reached out and grabbed Shamira by the arm. She looked down and saw its scaly, cracked skin, boney knuckles, filthy, long, broken nails, and the greatest oddity to Shamira's experience, a missing middle finger. Then out of the corner of her eye, in the slow motion which is panic, his other hand appeared, the one with the knife. It rose to cut the strap of the heavy canvas bag on Shamira's shoulder. She panicked and tried to turn and run, foolishly holding onto the empty sack. The robber pulled her back and the blade scraped her forearm, causing a streak of pain that her privileged flesh had never felt. She finally let go of the sack and screamed in terror. Then she no longer felt the clamp-like hold on her arm and fell to the ground. Guilietta was down by her side. Another strange man shouted after the pile of running rags.
"Run villain and let these girls be! Such preyers of young woman will be sent to where it's too late for prayers to do any good. You escape now, but the Lord shall pass judgment on you. Repent!" Shamira's savior was an old man, not much better dressed than the unsuccessful thief. He had a bulbous face and piercing eyes. His head was covered by a muslin cap, from which long, curly, salt and pepper locks escaped. He turned and smiled brightly at the two girls. "Buon giorno," he said doffing his scruffy cap. His hair sprung out. "Are you quite all right?"
"Yes, Signor," Guilietta said. "Thank . . ." and then she looked at Shamira's tearing eyes, and then down at her arm. "Carmella, you're cut!"
The man was down beside them in a flash, inspecting Shamira's wound. "The upper skin's been cut from the blow, but not through to the meat below." Then he reached inside his tunic and pulled out a miraculously clean cloth. He covered the wound with it. "You will be fine. It will only take a scance of time. Come child," he said to Guilietta, "Let us end your companion's communion with the cobblestones."
Shamira was quickly on her feet and dusted off.
"Kind Signor, you have done us a great service," Guilietta said to the man.
"Oh, a little excitement is all. Eh, I haven't seen you girls around here before."
"We're new to Verona, Signor. My name is Guilietta della Cappa. My family just moved here from Florence. This is Carmella, our kitchen girl. And you, Signor?"
"Geneto is what I'm called. So, signorinas, it's the first time in the market for you. That's why you look like two helpless chickens waiting to be plucked,
hey, hey."
As the initial shock of the attack wore off, Shamira's arm began to throb. She winced. Geneto re-inspected the wound.
"The flow of the bleeding has much slowed its rate. Press the cloth and it will fully abate." A few tears dropped from Shamira's eyes.
"I need a doctor. And a dermal regenerator?"
"A physician for this? Pishaw!"
"And a what? Carmella, calm down," Guilietta said.
"Yes, calm is what is needed," Geneto said. "Come girls. I shall help you for a while and show you what's where and where's what, while Carmella nurses her little cut. So, say what needs bring you to the market and I'll direct you to your target."
Guilietta giggled. "We're looking for food to get the family and our apprentices through the day. And when we know the market, we shall provision the household properly tomorrow."
"Ah, a plan well thought out. So, where shall we start? How about the bread? There are many sellers to choose from, but let me take you to the one you can trust. It's a walk away, but it's the one for which you will always lust. Come, it's just by San Fermo."
As they began on their way through the market, Pan said in Shamira's ear, "Young mistress, I know you are in distress, but calm yourself the best you can. There's no help to be had. It seems we really are on our own."
Shamira sniffed, and then stood up straight, collecting herself.
They started at a bakery, which was a much busier and less friendly place than the one at History Camp, but still, it smelled wonderful. Guilietta went to buy the darker, cheaper bread, but Geneto stayed her hand.
"To be successful, sometimes one has to act successful," he said.
Shopping didn't take long with Geneto's help. Their last stop was at the herbalist stall of Signora Caterina Baroni. Caterina inspected Shamira's arm and put some herbal ointment on the wound. She laughed when she realized the girls were from the same house as Ugilino.
"How is that ugly, smelly boy?" she asked. "And how is the tea working for your mother?" Within a minute of the cream's application, Shamira's wound stopped throbbing and felt cool.
When the girls finished with Signora Baroni, they looked around and were surprised to find Geneto gone. When Guilietta asked the herb merchant where he lived, so they could thank him properly, she asked, "Who?"
Chapter 34
The Master was impressed that the first thing the boys did, before starting their own lens, was clean up the debris left from his work. Then they attached the new blank. They moved slowly, taking their time to get it properly centered. Hansum sat at the lathe nervously.
"I've not worked on a machine exactly like this before, Master. The one I worked on had a foot treadle."
"How strange," the Master said. Then he took off his leather cap and gave it to Hansum. "To protect you from the glass," he said.
Hansum started turning the wheel and, as it got up to speed, he tentatively put the file to the glass. Shards sprayed everywhere and Hansum fumbled about, the file skipping and bumping. Ugilino laughed and jeered at his mistakes.
"I'll get the knack of it, Master," Hansum said. "I'm used to having two hands to work with. Say, for this first time, can Maruccio turn the wheel so I can concentrate on grinding?" Agistino agreed. Lincoln began turning the wheel and the boys worked slowly and methodically, as a team, figuring things out step by step. The Master nodded, thinking to himself that if the boys weren't very good now, at least they seemed bright enough to learn.
He looked over at Ugilino, who had become quiet. The boy was watching his two adversaries closely, his mouth slackened and his eyes drooped. But Agistino smiled when he looked back at his new apprentices, and he sat back down and sipped contentedly on his water. He made a silent prayer in appreciation of his new helpers. When the boys got to the third bowl of grit, he saw Hansum inspect it carefully, making sure there were no large pieces hidden within the finer grit. Romero calmly asked the Master to re-inspect it with him. Together they found a few grains that should be expelled, ones that Ugilino missed. The Master looked up at Ugilino and shook his head. The ugly apprentice put his head down.
A bit later, when Agistino looked back at Ugilino, he seemed to be sitting on the floor and just staring. Not out the window, and not at anything in particular, but just down at the floor. When the front of the lens was almost finished, the Master saw Ugilino snoring quietly. He almost went over to kick him, out of habit, but then realized there was nothing he wanted the boy to do. So he just let his sleeping dog lie. Soon Hansum and Lincoln carefully removed the lens from the dop and offered it to him. He took it in his big hand and inspected the work. The boys stood expectantly, awaiting the verdict.
"Terrible!" the Master pronounced solemnly. "Two doing one job. You were slow. The lens is uneven. I could never sell it." The boys stood mute. The Master paused. "But you show promise," and he smiled. The boys laughed.
"You know," Lincoln said, "this place could be very interesting. In fact, it's . . ."
"Zippy," the Master finished. All three laughed.
***
Hansum thought how he found this place interesting too. And just as he thought it, the object of his interest walked into the house.
"Look who's here," Agistino said, still laughing. "Back from the market already?"
"Oh Papa, you've set your equipment up and got everybody working. How wonderful."
Just then Ugilino started to snore.
"Well, almost everyone," Lincoln said, at which all but Shamira laughed. She was holding her forearm.
"What's wrong, Sham . . . I mean, Carmella," Hansum asked.
"My arm's cut. Really bad!" she whined. "It's hurting again."
"Carmella was attacked by a man with a knife!" Guilietta told them.
"In broad daylight?" Agistino said. "In the middle of the market?"
"Stabbed?" Hansum exclaimed.
"With a knife?" Lincoln said, horrified.
"Let me look at it," Agistino demanded. Delicately, like he was working on a fine pair of spectacles, the Master's huge, dirty fingers unwrapped the bandage. He carefully separated the herbalist's poultice from the skin. The first thing the boys saw was the dark blobs of congealed blood staining the fabric. Hansum winced and Lincoln looked away. Neither boy had ever seen a wound like this. The worst injury Hansum had endured was a skinned knee or bloody nose, which were healed instantly by his A.I. Both boys had to look away.
"What is wrong with all of you?" the Master questioned. "It's only a small cut. It will be better in a week and you will hardly be able to see the scar in a year."
"A scar!" all three teens erupted at once.
"A year?" Shamira added, and she cried even harder.
"Did the thief get your goods? Or my money?" Agistino asked.
Guilietta began to tell him about Geneto's rescue and how he then took them shopping.
Meanwhile, Pan began whispering in Hansum's ear. He leaned over to Shamira, comforting her, but more importantly, to tell her Pan's message. Lincoln also leaned in to hear what was going on.
"Pan says your wound is not serious and to stop crying," Hansum said quietly. Lincoln nodded in agreement.
"That's easy for you two to say," Shamira said, pouting.
Lincoln bared his teeth at her, exposing his broken tooth.
"And Pan says we have to act happier around the della Cappas," Hansum continued, "and that we should all get together and have a meeting tonight."
Shamira pouted for a few more seconds, reflecting while Guilietta finished her story.
"And when Signora Baroni finished tending to Carmella's arm," Guilietta said, "we looked up and Signor Geneto was not there. It was most strange, Papa."
Chapter 35
"Yes, yes. Well, dinner will make everyone feel better," the Master assured. "Girls, prepare the meal. Set the food by the hearth as we're using the table. We will find another table later. Boys, finish the back of the lens." Just then Ugilino woke up, making a big fuss stretching and yawning. "So, look who
wakes up when the food arrives. You, get off your ass and get the girls some firewood."
"That's Maruccio's job, Master," Ugilino complained.
"He's busy finishing a lens with Romero. Now move your ass. And what are you boys waiting for? Finish the lens. Daughter! Stop fawning over Carmella. Make dinner! Both of you!" And with that, Agistino had reestablished authority over his domain. He smiled as he sat down on the bench and surveyed his castle. Everyone was working. He especially liked the idea that he had a young man, maybe two, who seemed bright enough to learn to make lenses. He watched as Hansum had his face close to the spinning glass, rasp in hand, carefully grinding it. Then his eyes fell once again to the sorry store of blank lenses. Two knots formed, one on his forehead and one in his stomach. He pondered his options. Search Verona for a glass source? He didn't think there were any here. Order more from Florence or Murano? He still owed money in both places. Besides, his small purse of coins wouldn't stretch that far.
Agistino's deep thoughts were interrupted by a shrill "Aheeee!" this time from Hansum. Agistino looked up to see the boy spring from his bench and grab his face. "Ahhhh, my eye!" he screamed again. Agistino was to his feet instantly. He grabbed the boy's arms and pulled them away from his face.
"Do not rub your eye. DO NOT RUB YOUR EYE!" he shouted. "Daughter, the eye cup! Quickly!"
Guilietta mixed some salt and water in the small ceramic cup and rushed to her father. Agistino was forcing Hansum to bend forward. "Blink. Blink again. It's only a piece of glass in your eye."
***
"It hurts! It hurts," Hansum kept shouting, trying to pull away. But he could not get loose from the Master's strong hands.
"I'm going to let go of one of your arms," Agistino said. "You cannot reach for your eye with it. You could make it bleed. We must wash it out." But as soon as Agistino let the arm go, Hansum tried to reach his eye. He felt another vise-like grip on his arm.
"I've got him, Master," Ugilino said, back from getting wood.
They walked Hansum, bent over double, to the bench and lay him face down across it. Then the Master took his free hand and put his thumb and forefinger on the top and bottom of the injured eye. Pushing against the socket, he forced the eyelids open.
"Now, daughter." Guilietta was on her knees and looking under at Hansum. She held the cup of salt water tight against his eye. She nodded at her father. The Master said, "Turn him over slowly, Ugilino. Slowly, I said!"
