by Lory Kaufman
***
"Romero!" Guilietta, her heart breaking in sympathy, called after him.
Agistino started to follow the young man, but his wife stopped him.
"Let the boy be, husband," she said. Agistino stopped and, to Guilietta's surprise, her father didn't dismiss her mother's opinion. There was something in her voice reminiscent of the person she used to be. A month of the herbs had cooled her brain. She looked over at her daughter and said, "You go."
"Mama?"
"A young girl in the streets at night?" the Master questioned.
"Then go quickly before he gets far," the Signora said.
Guilietta looked at her father to see his reaction. He said nothing, so Guilietta let go of Shamira and rushed out the door after Hansum.
***
Hansum hadn't gone far. He was standing out in the middle of the street, staring up at the sky when he heard her voice.
"Romero?"
Hansum turned and saw Guilietta's beautiful face looking up at him sympathetically. A full moon was coming out, lighting the darkened streets. She stepped closer and took a small handkerchief from her waistband, reached up and dabbed at the tear-stained smudges on Hansum's face.
"Where are you going?" she asked. "My father is worried."
"I don't know. I just needed to get away."
"Si, I know that feeling. Come. Let's walk. Or would you like to be alone?"
"No, no," Hansum said, feeling conflicted. "A walk would be . . . good."
Guilietta turned and slowly walked south. Hansum followed. They strolled in silence toward the Porte del Calzaro gate, the moon rising directly in front of them.
Pan had explained to Hansum that the walls of Verona then were not the structures visible in the twenty-fourth century, except for a small remnant of an old inner wall. The walls which Guilietta and Romero strolled toward were built before the advent of powerful black powder and cannons. Pan had explained how they had to be replaced with cannon-resistant walls when that technology became available. But now there were twenty-seven miles of outer wall protecting the city. Made of red brick, they were forty feet high, twelve feet thick at the bottom and eight at the top. There was a walkway at the top from which troops could both defend the city and move from one of the forty-nine towers to the next. There was also a canal that ran along the outside of most of the walls, acting as a moat. There were six gates to enter the city. Guilietta's hands were gently clasped in front of her, Hansum held his behind.
"A very sad thing happened today," Guilietta said.
"What was left of . . . Father Aaron, it was horrible."
"It is a cruel world, Romero."
"My world isn't like this," Hansum said shaking his head.
"It is everyone's world, Romero. But it can also be very beautiful. Father Aaron once told me that life is a dance. A dance where we live with one foot in Heaven and one foot in Hell. We dance back and forth between the two and are given a choice. Life is learning to always dance back into Heaven. Tell me, Romero, is it just the death of the Holy Father that makes you so sad?"
Hansum stopped and turned toward Guilietta. She stopped and looked back up at him, the moon dancing in her eyes.
"I can never go home," Hansum said. "My family doesn't even exist."
"My poor Romero." Hansum felt Guilietta's warm hand on his arm. "The death of the Holy Father has reminded you of your own family's loss."
"Something like that," he answered, looking into her brown eyes.
"Don't worry, Romero. I'm sure they are all safe in Jesus' arms."
"Everything that's happened has made me realize how much I miss my family."
Now Guilietta took his hands in hers. She looked up at him, saying earnestly, "We are your family now, Romero."
He thought what the image of the dying Arimus said, "Find happiness where you can," and "Happiness is a decision." He gently squeezed Guilietta's beautiful hands, stroking them with his thumbs.
"Will you be my family, Guilietta?" They stood in the middle of the road, hands clasped together for the first time, their eyes and lips close. Hansum couldn't tell if it was the gravity of the moon shining in the sky or that of their young hearts, but he felt them being pulled together.
"Si, I will be your family, Romero."
The clop-clop-clop of a horse-drawn wagon came out of nowhere. They both looked up, breaking the spell. The wagon wasn't going very quickly and Hansum gently pulled Guilietta to the road's edge. The driver was an old man with a beard and floppy straw hat. He smiled at them, slowing, but not stopping.
"Young lovers' kisses call forth hot wishes," he said. "Don't waste your beautiful years when life is full of tears." Then he winked, snapped the reins of the horse and continued on his way. Alone again, Guilietta and Hansum giggled, their mood lightening somewhat. Then shyly, both looked away from each other and resumed their walk. Guilietta's arms were now by her side. After a few strides, Hansum reached over and took her hand. She did not pull away. They walked together, deep in their own thoughts, occasionally looking at one another and smiling.
As they arrived at the massive tower, the moon was now high overhead. They walked up to the closed heavy wrought-iron gate and peered through at the raised drawbridge. They could hear the fast-moving water of the canal on the other side and Hansum realized he had never been to the edge of the city before. A man's voice came out of the night.
"Buona sera." A figure appeared out of a door to the tower. It was a city guard wearing a leather tunic and chausses. He had a kettle helmet, but wore no chain mail. "Can I help you?"
"Grazie, no," Hansum said. "We're just out for a walk."
"Ah, I see. A beautiful night for such a thing." He looked at them closely. "I've not seen either of you before. Where do you live?"
"Just up the road. We've only been here a month. I'm Romero. This is Guilietta."
"My father is Master della Cappa, the lensmaker."
"Ah, si. That big shipment a while ago. So, you're out for a walk?" the guard continued. "Not advisable to go outside the gate. Besides, it's too much work to lower the bridge."
"We understand," Hansum said. "We'll just turn around and . . ."
"Say, I have an idea," the guard offered. "Have you ever walked along the top of the wall? With the moon out, it's very pleasant. You can walk over to the next gate and go home up the Corso del Palio."
"Is that permitted?" Guilietta asked.
The guard shrugged, made a face and winked.
The stairway up the tower was dark and narrow. The two teenagers followed the guard, Guilietta holding Hansum's hand. They were pointed down the length of the brick walkway and bid goodnight. Hansum found it amazing to stand on the wall. With a full moon shining, he could look over the countryside to the south for miles. Looking back over the city, he could see all the church steeples, towers, tile roofs, smoke of many chimneys wafting up into the air, and even the top courses of the ancient Roman Arena. Guilietta leaned between two parapets and gazed up at the moon. Hansum stepped behind her and put his hands lightly on her arms.
"It's a beautiful view," she said.
"Si, and I have an especially beautiful view." He saw Guilietta smile. Then a chill breeze came up and she shuddered. "It's getting cold," Hansum added. "We should get going . . ."
Guilietta spun around in Hansum's arms and kissed him. It took Hansum a few moments to recover from his surprise, but when he did, he responded well. They kissed long and hard, and soon Hansum was oblivious to the rest of the universe, his past, present and his future. All that existed for him was an undeniable intensity between the two. Hansum finally came up from his deep well of delicious drowning and looked into Guilietta's eyes. He could now see in her that instant familiarity which each person instinctively craves.
"We'd better get going," he said, smiling. "Your father is going to wonder." They walked and skipped along the wall, hand in hand, giggling and stealing kisses.
They came to a small guard tower and looked insi
de the room. It was empty. Guilietta stepped in and Hansum suddenly felt himself being pulled after. Still holding his hand, she leaned against the wall and gave her beau a wicked smile. He complied by pressing his whole body against hers and they kissed deeply again and again.
Sometime later, they were walking home briskly, still giggling and laughing, stopping to kiss often, then rushing on. As they got closer, they stopped and took extra care in straightening out their clothes and expressions. They kissed one next to last time, started to walk, then needed to kiss a very last time. The last bit home, they walked as solemnly as possible, their hands by their sides, in case the Master was out front waiting.
The house was dark. Guilietta entered quietly and bid Hansum one last good night till the morrow. Never had a door taken so long to close. But finally the latch found its home. Hansum listened and heard the stairs creak as Guilietta softly walked up them. How he wished he was still with her. Finally he pulled himself away and headed for his own bed. As he walked down the alley, he skipped, he was so happy. Then he remembered. Arimus was dead. They were stuck in the fourteenth century. His bouncing walk slowed to a funeral dirge as the implications sunk in once more. He never would see his family again. His parents, who were not even born yet, would never meet Guilietta.
He was still thinking these dark thoughts when he entered the shop. He stopped short. There was the Master sitting at the lathe, literally burning the midnight oil.
"You're back," Master della Cappa said flatly.
"Si, Master."
"You okay?"
"Si, Master. Guilietta and I walked to the gates and then around a little. It cooled my head."
The Master just looked at him. Luckily he was wearing his safety glasses with the strong lenses. That and the dirt from working made it hard to see Hansum clearly. But Hansum saw Agistino more clearly now. Here sat a fourteenth-century man, hardworking, skilled, one who accepted responsibility for his family. His gruffness and his grimy outward appearance were not so terrible now that Hansum could understand them in their true context.
"Guilietta in the house?" the Master asked.
"Si, Master."
"Are you going to be able to do what is necessary tomorrow and for the next months? Forever?"
Hansum paused. This was the question that now loomed over them all.
Chapter 51
Rows of skulls peered out at Hansum from the rock ledge of the catacomb. They were the skulls of hundreds of priests who had served the church over the last hundreds of years. What was left of Arimus was joining them. He was told that, in a year or two, when all the worldly flesh had disappeared from Father Aaron, his skull would proudly be displayed with the others. Hansum, Shamira and Lincoln stared in horror at the stacks of the other bones: legs, arms, pelvises, ribs and more. They were piled up to the ceiling in deep stone cribs. The vaulted underground chamber was also crowded with living people today. The teens, the della Cappas and Ugilino were the only representatives of the deceased's family and friends. The rest were priests and monks.
In the same way that Hansum was seeing Agistino differently, he was seeing everything differently. Things seemed, looked, smelled, felt . . . different. The rude fabric of the monks' hassocks seemed rougher, more textured. Hansum, having now spent weeks doing manual labor, imagined the coarse wool being spun by hand and woven on simple looms. When he looked at the monks' gaunt and dirty faces, all rough with stubble, Hansum could see the plain wooden bowls of food put before the brothers each night, meager rations in each. He pictured their crude living quarters without running water to bathe or shave.
Looking into the eyes of individuals devout to their religious convictions was one of the scariest things for Hansum. No longer could he look at the faith that permeated the whole society as naive rationalization and superstition. He now saw unyielding spiritual convictions of which he must be wary. He must not misspeak. "It's all so surreal," he had confided to Pan.
As the ceremony ended, Hansum walked up to the ossuary with the others. As he tried to mumble his goodbyes, the stinging odor of the rotting, maggoty flesh in the stone box wafted into his nose and eyes. He began to weep as everything around him seemed to scream that life was a frenzied race to the grave.
Finally, the della Cappas were directed to leave the catacomb. They followed behind the procession of the Bishop and priests. As they came up into the cloud-covered cemetery beside San Zeno, Shamira began crying too. Hansum, Lincoln and Guilietta came to her aid and put their arms around her, ushering her forward. Hansum felt his hand covered by another's. It was Guilietta's. Their wet eyes met in a long, sorrowful gaze and they entwined fingers as they exited the church cemetery.
As they got to the large square in front of the church, Hansum saw Prince Feltrino standing on the steps. He let go of Guilietta's hand, lest anyone see this impropriety. He stood straight and watched Feltrino, whose eyes were locked on Guilietta. The family stopped briefly and said their goodbyes to the Bishop in public, which Hansum knew was a great honor for Master della Cappa. Many eyes were on them. It was good for business. He saw Feltrino approach and then felt Father Lurenzano's hand on his arm, quietly pulling him, then Lincoln and Shamira, away from the group. A serious looking Feltrino bowed to the Bishop, then Master della Cappa. Then he made a prolonged bow to Guilietta. He looked into her eyes, saying something Hansum couldn't hear. Hansum took an involuntary step forward, but felt Lurenzano's hand on his shoulder again. He also felt Feltrino's eyes dart toward him, and their gazes locking. The young noble moved his eyes back to Guilietta, but Hansum saw the Prince put his hand on the hilt of his sword and squeeze.
"Take care, Master Hansum," Pan whispered. "We are now in a very new situation."
Chapter 52
"The poor orphans," the Signora said in the dark of her bedroom.
"Who are you speaking to," the Master's voice said back to her.
"You, of course, husband. Who else?"
"I thought maybe one of your angels."
"Oh no, dear. Archangel Michael leaves when you come to bed. But he told me we must be patient with the orphans. He says they came from a home far different from ours and are feeling very lonely. But with patience and care, they will blossom."
Agistino reached over and patted his wife's side, then lay there in the dark, thinking. It had been three days since the funeral. On the day after, four people came to buy discs for the eyes. The next, six. He was almost out of stock, but couldn't get the three youths back to working as efficiently as before. The two boys were now very slow and even forgetful, almost as bad as Ugilino. The shop was becoming messy and the kitchen girl wasn't cooking. She was just putting out cold food and leftovers. And meals were always late.
***
"You should have gone to repast this morning, Master Hansum," Pan said. The imp was standing by the work table, his eyes at a height where he could see the lenses sitting next to the empty bone frames. "You've hardly eaten in three days. You must keep up your strength."
"Master della Cappa says I've fallen behind setting the lenses. I'm just trying to catch up."
"But you're just sitting here," Pan replied. There was a click as the latch to the shop door rose. Before the door opened, Pan was gone. Hansum looked up. The beautiful face of Guilietta peeked around the door. Hansum stood up quickly and smiled as best he could. Guilietta smiled back and came in, holding a covered plate of food. She closed the door behind her.
"You're alone?" Hansum asked.
She nodded. Hansum quickly walked over, took the plate from her with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling their bodies together. Their mouths met and a warm, comforting wave washed over Hansum from head to toe.
"Oh, I've missed your lips," Guilietta sighed while taking a breath in between kisses.
"And I, yours," Hansum replied.
"You didn't come to repast. I was worried for you. We're all worried."
"I wasn't hungry."
"I was thinking you didn't
want to see me anymore."
"What?" Hansum was shocked. "No, Guilietta, no." He quickly put down the plate and took both of her hands. "It's just that . . . with all that's happened, I'm confused. Sad. I've never experienced anything like this before."
Guilietta looked up at Hansum with two clear eyes. "Then you still love me?"
Hansum realized that in all of his playing around the past few years, this was one thing he never considered, never uttered. Hansum finally found his smile again.
"Guilietta. I've loved you since I first set eyes on you." They beamed at each other and were about to embrace when the door latch clicked again. Hansum stepped over and picked up the plate. The door opened and in walked Ugilino, followed by the Master, Shamira and Lincoln. Hansum stood with the plate in his hand.
"You haven't eaten yet?" the Master said.
"It's delicious . . ." Hansum began to say, till he looked down to see the cloth still on the plate. The Master stepped over to the work table and looked at the empty frames.
"What have you been doing all this time?" Hansum flinched, but Agistino didn't shout. "Children," he said, "come stand around me. The Holy Father would not want his investment in our family to be for naught. In his good memory, we must continue with strong hearts and trust that God will help us succeed. Boys, let us to work. Girls, go to the market and provision the house again. Make meals that will nourish us well and make our hearts happy."
So, Hansum sat back down and began to work. He saw Lincoln loading the dops with glass blanks and bringing the Master what he needed. But it was not easy to keep his mind on work. He kept thinking of the maggot-filled ossuary and the skulls in the crypt. Other times he would find himself with images of his home, his parents and Charlene in his thoughts. Often he would be flying in a hover jet, high over the mountains, going to school or in space on a vacation to the moon. Then he'd hear the Master call out his name and he'd find himself, once again, staring at his hands or at something on the work table.
At night Hansum and Lincoln spoke to Pan about their fears. Were they now at the mercy of every microbe and malfeasant infesting this world? Apparently, a quarter of all newborns didn't make it to the age of one. More than another quarter didn't survive to their fifth birthday. Workers who broke bones or sustained serious injuries most often died of infections.
