by Lory Kaufman
Ugilino, still on his knees, stiffened. His body trembled slightly, but inside it had been as if he had been hit harder than ever before.
"But, but . . ." he began, when he heard something by the door. He turned and saw Hansum standing there. "We're having a private conversation," Ugilino said, embarrassed and getting to his feet quickly.
"I'm sorry, Ugilino," Hansum said. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop." Ugilino shuffled his feet. Hansum added, "Odd though it may seem, brother, the Master and I were just talking about this topic a few minutes ago. He sent me to talk to you of it."
"What about?" Ugilino asked, suspiciously.
"A marriage partner for you."
"Guilietta is supposed to be mine."
"Pray tell, Romero," Guilietta said, ignoring the last statement, "what did you and Papa speak of?" Ugilino watched Guilietta stand up and take a step toward Hansum. He could tell the two were going to work in concert to some purpose against his own.
"Well, the Master is really quite excited," Hansum continued. "He has this idea that, as Ugilino is doing such a splendid job and has such a great future ahead of him, he should have a wife."
"Truly?" Guilietta extolled. "That is a happy coincidence."
"And he said it should be with another master's family," Hansum continued. "It would be good for business. And, Ugilino, he thought the miller's daughter, Serindella, would be a wonderful match for you."
"Serindella? Pippo's sister?" Guilietta said brightly. "What a wonderful idea. Why, Ugilino, she is very pleasant and I hear she even has a dowry."
"Serindella?" Ugilino gasped. "She's a cow."
"Oh, Ugilino, don't talk so," Guilietta scolded lightly.
"Why should I marry a cow?"
"If she is a cow," Hansum said smiling, "then you are a bull." Hansum chucked Ugilino on the arm in a manly fashion. "A perfect match. I will talk to her father for you, if you wish."
It took a few seconds for Hansum's little joke to sink into Ugilino's head. But when it did, he felt a rage rise up in him. He pushed back on Hansum's shoulder, much harder than Hansum's mock punch.
"A bull! A cow!" Ugilino said loudly, repeating the push harder each time he spit out a phrase. "You think you are so elevated above us because you are the Podesta's pet, that we are but barnyard animals?" The pushes almost became punches. Hansum was backed up against the wall. Ugilino put his hand on the base of Hansum's neck and held him fast.
"No brother, no," Hansum said. "We are all the same in God's eyes. But we must know who we are and what our best prospects are. Our household has done well. We are both men who have futures and will be able to afford a wife. We must choose carefully and make a proper match."
Ugilino scowled and leaned into Hansum.
"And what of Guilietta?" he asked cunningly. Ugilino saw Hansum and Guilietta look at each other in a way that could only mean one thing. "So, you marry a beauty and me a beast? Is that what you are saying is my proper match?"
Guilietta put her hand on Ugilino's shoulder.
"Hush, Ugilino. Do not talk so of Serindella. Beauty fades, but disposition stays, if it be nurtured. And she has a lovely disposition. Make a match of like and like and in time you will find it more to your liking."
"Si, Ugilino," Hansum said. "Think about it."
But Ugilino would not hear this good advice. Instead his blood boiled over.
"You are trying to take a wife from me. Before you came, Guilietta was to be mine," he shouted.
"Never was this so, Ugilino," Guilietta said. "This was a fancy of yours."
Ugilino turned and raised a hand to Guilietta. "Shut your mouth, woman!" he said, slapping her face. "I will be your . . ."
But before he could say husband, Romero was upon him with a fist to the mouth and a knee to the ribs. Ugilino fell to the ground, knocking supplies off of the table. Hansum jumped upon his adversary with the full weight of his knee, but Ugilino, a veteran of many street fights, did not submit easily. With little effort, he threw Hansum off.
"Stop!" Guilietta screamed, but neither would hear. Ugilino got hold of the pitch pot, stood up and flung it at Hansum. It would have hit him square in the face if he had not raised his arms to deflect it. Hansum dived at Ugilino, driving his shoulder into his midsection. Ugilino fell onto a workshop table, scattering more supplies. Both boys tumbled to the floor, their fists pummeling at each other. Guilietta continued screaming.
"Stop! Both of you, please!"
"I'll teach you, you orphan," Ugilino yelled.
"And I'll teach you, you stupid animal!" Hansum shouted.
This seemed to enrage Ugilino even more. He rolled over, picked up a brass shaping bowl and shot to his feet.
"I'm not an animal!" he shrieked, raising the bowl over his adversary's head. Guilietta threw herself against Ugilino to protect Hansum. Ugilino grabbed Guilietta with his free hand and shook her, the pot still in his other hand, high over his head. "I am not an animal!" he screamed.
The shop door burst open. Ugilino's eyes froze into the amazed eyes of the Master. Ugilino watched the Master's eyes move to his daughter and then to the pitch pot held high over her head. Then, without a heartbeat's hesitation, he watched Agistino's bulk fly across the shop. He felt his Master's large red paw grab the hand holding the bowl and another hand come down and chop at his wrist, forcing him to let go of Guilietta. From long conditioning, Ugilino did not attempt to fight back against his Master, but let himself be pushed into and then on top of the work table. The Master was now over his salesman. Ugilino still had hold of the pot in one hand and the Master had control of that arm. Agistino, an enraged look on his face, wrenched Ugilino's hand toward his own face. The pot cracked into the side of Ugilino's head and he let go of it. His head rang so, Ugilino was momentarily deaf.
"Peace, Father," Guilietta urged. "It was not as it appeared."
Hansum was now to his feet.
"It was not all Ugilino's fault, Master. He was upset with what you and I were talking about. I should have let you tell him," Hansum admitted.
His ears still ringing, the cowering Ugilino stared up at his Master's angry face, only inches from his own. He saw Agistino look over at Hansum, who was saying something, and also saw the makings of a good black eye starting to show on his rival. Ugilino felt the Master's fists tighten on his clothes as he was lifted several inches off the table. The Master then dropped him back down in disgust. Agistino walked a few steps away and began to yell in earnest at Ugilino. Slowly, Ugilino could make out words again.
"We give you good tidings and you give us trouble? We give you hope and you give us hell? What type of apprentice would shame a master who offers him a son's prize of a wife?"
Ugilino rolled off the table onto his knees.
"But the wife I want is . . ." he began.
"The wife you want? You? You have a wife in mind? You, you ugly bastard who I found stealing from my garbage as a child? You think you will pick your own wife?"
"But Master..."
"And you break up my workshop and fight with other apprentices? You threaten my daughter because you don't like the wife, I, your Master, have in mind for you?"
"But it's Guilietta . . ."
"Shut your mouth, bastard. Don't you mention her name with your rotten mouth." The Master swatted at Ugilino's head. The jaunty green hat flew off and landed in the straw. "Another word and I shall rip off all the clothes I put on your back and throw you back into the ditch where you came from. You have ever been my cross to carry. Look what you've done to my workshop, my place of profit. How I wish you would be in another city and haunt that place."
Ugilino cringed repeatedly as one epithet after the other was thrown at him. He saw his precious new hat lying in the straw and dirt. He grabbed it up and returned it to its perch on his head, but now it was askew with clods of dirt stuck to it.
"But Guilietta . . ."
"NOT ANOTHER WORD! GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
The Master's bellow was so loud and
ferocious that it caused a cascade of images to rush through Ugilino's head. They were memories of himself as a very young boy; of his young self skulking around at night, sleeping in despicable places, subsisting on the uneatable and experiencing unimaginable humiliations. As he grew up in the streets, he knew no better. But now he knew what it was to sleep in one place with protective walls around him, without the wind or rats attacking him. He had grown used to his dry straw bed in the stall, to regular food that could be named, clothes that were not fouled rags. He felt dizzy and had the urge to puke as his head throbbed. The Master's curses became hollow echoes. Ugilino grasped at the table and pulled himself to his feet. Then, with a heart full of misplaced shame, he felt himself running out of the workshop and down the lane. He understood only one of the echoing words that followed him as his feet pounded through the wet, fetid puddles. It was his Master's voice shouting, "Fool!"
***
"I'm sorry, Master," Hansum said, one hand on his bruised abdomen, the other on his forehead. Guilietta had hold of his arm, steadying him.
"Life gets better and then it gets worse," Agistino moaned. He stood, swaying back and forth. "Life gives you wine and then vinegar. Sweet meats, then maggots." Agistino collapsed on the bench and looked up at the two teenagers. "And I've still got the Bishop in the house. I better get back before your mother tells of her archangel."
"I didn't mean for it to turn out this way," Hansum said.
The old man, for he looked much older than a few minutes ago, waved away Hansum's apology.
"No matter. I was a fool to believe it could be otherwise. Ugilino and Serindella? Ha. We'll have to find some other way to create an alliance with the miller. Perhaps you, Romero?"
"Perhaps Romero, what?" Guilietta asked. The Master quickly explained the plan of using a marriage of the two houses to get easy access to the knowledge and experience of setting up a water mill.
"That's how countries do it. That's how kings do it. Why not us?" he concluded. "So what do you say, Romero? You and Serindella?"
Hansum said nothing, and only glanced fleetingly at Guilietta.
"You want Romero to marry Serindella?" Guilietta asked with a certain tone in her voice. Agistino put his hands out beseechingly, and as if it was a perfectly obvious and good idea.
"If Romero marries Serindella, then we can get the miller to help us set up a mill to run many, many lathes."
"Romero marry Serindella?" Guilietta repeated, looking between her father and Hansum.
"Si!" the Master answered, now somewhat annoyed.
Guilietta gave Hansum a look which he thought could never be made by a face as sweet as hers. Hansum made a gesture for her to calm down.
"Master," he said, taking a tentative step forward.
"What?" Agistino said.
"Master, I have something to ask you."
"What?"
"Remember I was just going to ask you a question just before the Bishop knocked on the door?" He looked at Guilietta, as if to prove a point.
"Si. And?"
"It was about me marrying." He paused. The Master looked at him enquiringly, expecting him to continue. Nothing came out. Guilietta stepped next to Hansum. Without a word she reached out and took Hansum's hand. The young lovers braced for a tirade, but it didn't come. Instead Agistino became thoughtful and quiet.
"Father, are you quite all right?" Guilietta asked.
After a few more moments, he looked at the two seriously, but with measured calm.
"To this match I would have no objection," he said plainly. Both Hansum and Guilietta broke into big smiles. Guilietta, still holding Hansum's hand, became light on her feet and jumped up and down. Hansum didn't jump, but laughed happily. The Master stopped them. "Hold. This is the time for planning. Romero, you are a favorite of the Podesta. You must receive his blessing on this. The way he asks for you and talks to you, he must have plans. If this family is to prosper, it must be with his blessing. So, not a word to anyone. Who else have you told?"
"No one, Master," Hansum said.
"Ugilino," Guilietta reminded. "Ugilino knows."
"If it's only Ugilino, then there's no problem. The Podesta is away from Verona for the next while. We have time to plan. And that dog, Ugilino, he knows where his bed and food are. He will be back by tonight. If I'm lucky, he'll stay away a few days."
***
But Ugilino didn't come back that night, or the next, or many after that. He ran to a quiet spot by the river and threw up, then lay there with a hand in the cold water, letting it cool his body. The ringing in his head lessened and his pounding heart began to calm. Finally he sat up and just brooded. He took the hat from his head and looked at it. The new hat he was so proud of. How could the Master say he would take it away from him? Ugilino paid for it himself. He picked off the dirt and straw, staring at the hat and all it represented. It symbolized his new life, but all that was gone now. The Master thought he was going to smash Guilietta with the metal pot. He most certainly wouldn't be forgiven for that. And that bitch, no, he mustn't call her such things, but Guilietta was probably playing up what happened, putting the blame for wrecking the shop on him. And Romero, no way he would miss the chance to keep himself the golden boy. 'But we're family. Families fight but always take each other back,' he thought. Ugilino went to put the jaunty green hat back on his head. 'But we're not family. I'm a stupid, ugly bastard that can't learn to make lenses.' Ugilino wiped his face with the back of his hand, surprised to see he was wiping off tears. 'Nobody wants you, nobody needs you,' he thought. He tossed the hat into the rushing river. As the current grabbed it, the hat sped away, the green fabric turning to black in the shadows. Then it disappeared. Ugilino got up, not even bothering to dust the dirt off of his clothes, and he too disappeared into the dark.
Chapter 65
"Wow, Hansum, my man. Gettin' married at seventeen," Lincoln laughed as they lay in the hay that night. "That's freaky."
"Yes," Pan said. "To people of our time, where most people live to over one hundred and fifty, it would seem odd. There is no rush to procreate. But here . . ."
"Procreate?" Lincoln interrupted, a further realization seeming to jump into his head. He began to giggle. "That means you're going to . . . you and Guilietta . . . Hey, and they don't have preggie blocks here. You'll probably be a dad by the time you're eighteen." He giggled again. "I'll be an uncle! Shamira will be an aunt."
"And I shall be the child's teacher," Pan pronounced, "as Aristotle was to Alexander the Great!"
"But why would the Podesta have any objection if I married Guilietta?" Hansum asked, getting up on one elbow. "What is the Master so worried about? Why's he making it so complicated?"
"I can't say," Pan replied, "but the Master is correct. You must be careful. The Podesta believes you are a savant and most likely will want to keep you in his direct sphere of influence."
"But it's just because of the stuff that you've been telling me," Hansum said.
"That doesn't matter, Young Master." Pan answered. "He thinks it is you and it must stay thus."
Lincoln yawned and stretched out in the hay. "Okay, I'm tired. Let's get some shut eye. Pan, turn down your light. Man oh man. Hansum and Guilietta are gettin' married and they'll be dum dee dum dee doing."
***
Hansum and Guilietta's was not the only engagement with complications that day.
"But you promised to marry me after I helped you escape!" shouted poor Veronica, as Feltrino rode off at a full gallop. "You promised . . ." she trailed off. He didn't even wave or look back. The dust his horse was kicking up obscured him from view. She looked down. There was blood on her dress. It was from what had remained on Feltrino's sword when he killed the guard who came back sooner than expected. So here she was, outside the city gates, thrown off the back of Feltrino's huge horse without a word or a smile. Just thrown off. What was she to do? If she didn't go back, they would assume she was part of the killing. If she did go back, she could feign innocence,
but she knew she would get flustered when the Baron questioned her. He had a kind nature, but he always got to the bottom of things. Poor Veronica stood all alone in the middle of the night, not knowing what to do.
***
Feltrino petted the huge neck of his horse as they galloped through the night. He found his beast plump and healthy in the Podesta`s stables behind the palace, ready and wanting to expel the incredible energy pent up in him. Feltrino knew he would be able to push the stallion all night, till he was well away from Verona. 'It's true what they say about della Scalla. He takes care of things in his possession, like he did the horse. But he's ruthless, as anyone who runs cities must be,' Feltrino thought. He would be that kind of leader when he went home to claim his place by his father. As he rode, Feltrino went over what he was going to say to his father. He wanted to save face, but he didn't have one of the lookers. What exactly should he tell him? Well, he had a long ride. He would run it through in his mind over and over again, till he got it right.
Luigi — or Ludovico — Gonzaga was still the thin, quiet man Feltrino had left almost two months earlier. As Feltrino burst into the dining room, he saw his father sitting at table. Feltrino strode over to him and went down onto one knee. He had determined to show his father deference, but not act cowed. He would apologize, using the wisdom he remembered Baron da Pontremoli imparting about fathers and sons, but he must quickly get to the device that brings images closer.
Luigi went to put a hand on Feltrino's head, but stopped.
"My prodigal son smells like a festering trough of hog guts," were the first words Luigi uttered.
Although Feltrino felt his ire rising — his father could always do that to him — he contained himself. He raised his head, grabbed his father's hand and kissed it. Then he looked his father in the eye, making sure he looked unafraid and unbroken, like he had resolved to.
"That is because I've spent the better part of the last month in a Scallari prison," Feltrino said.
Luigi looked at his son, raising his eyebrows at the news, then peered into the youth's eyes. His gaze slid to the blade hanging by Feltrino's thigh. He reached down and touched the now-dried blood. He laughed.
"Quite an adventure you've had then. Sit and tell me how you've profited from it. But first..." He looked at his butler. "Renaldo, butcher the fatted calf. My son hath returned."
