The Lizard - 1. Part 1: Primavera (Spring)

Two boys played with each other.

Unfortunately one child hurt the other slightly with his sword.

The parents sent out their boy to ask for mercy, but the father

of the hurt one cut off the boy's hand and sent him back home

with the message 'Tell your father that iron and no blabbering

heals the wounds of swords.'

 

Pistoia, anno 1326

 

San Miniato. The Cemetery of the Holy Gates. The mild breeze of a friendly day in May touches my body gently as I stand next to my favourite place. When I look down, I see the life-size God of Death - or one of his guards -- sprawled desperately over a grave plate; his face buried in earth, his naked buttocks exposed, one hand clenched in a fist as if he could not come to terms with the way all earthly life would go. His other hand carried a torch, still flaming, enlightening the way into darkness.

Everything had started here. At the very beginning there was the angel of death. Only very much later we learned that there were other Gods with torches, there, in a gloomy chapel, deep under the earth beneath a Roman church. We were too young to comprehend the seriousness of the situation. It parted us and the only thing I had were his letters. Love letters, as I interpreted them.

He is here. Sandro. The Prince of the Lilies. He is here, although I hadn't heard him coming. He walks still on silent feet.

"Luca." His hand on my shoulder turns me around to face him and I see his face. The five years have hardly changed it. The mahogany locks still frame his aristocratic, pale face where the blue eyes shine feverishly with excitement. His lips twist into a heart-rending smile.

And I am happy.

 

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1
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Luca shaded his eyes with his hand. A glaring sun burned down upon the dazzling-white marble of the graves. Above him arched a violet-blue sky like a translucent cupola of glass, high and wide, so that he could look unhindered to the hills of Fiesole, leaving them clear without haze to refract and blur them in the distance -- Lo Sfumato, as Leonardo da Vinci had called it.

Luca smiled to himself. His hometown of Firenze was full of beautiful things. A town made from the grey stone, pietra serena - - rejecting, obstinate, inaccessible. Firenze ... its inhabitants as hot-blooded, haughty and seditious as the stone, but it was his town and he loved it.

Luca looked down to the town beneath his feet. A red-grey, stony desert, with the biggest cupola of the world towering above it. Luca had not spent a single day of his nearly completed seventeen years without its sight. As often as he could, he came up here to stroll between the graves and urns, and gaze upon the steles, marble angels and sculptures. His sensitive fingers touched the white, smooth polished Cararra-marble of the doors that closed the drawers where the coffins lay. Dozens of grave-houses stood together in rows. Each of them housing their own dozens of coffins decorated with golden letters, red flowers, picture-plates and candle fixtures.

Surrounding the rows of grave houses was a field covered with common graves. Luca occasionally would visit the grave of il Collodi to study the Pinocchio-figure engraved into the tombstone. He knew them all. The cimitero of the Holy Gates, high over Florence, was full of marble ghosts like the town itself; dead gods and patron saints. Guards stood waiting for the daily invasion of the barbarian mob of the North, those squadrons of tourists coming in short trousers and sandals or boots, with marching rations and cameras, perpetually chased by their guides into the museums to gaze on Alessandro Botticelli's 'Birth of the Venus'.

Pearly laughter escaped from Luca's throat, dying away as quickly as it had appeared. His town was the ultimate embodiment of frosty sex. Naked statues occupied each corner, each museum, but what it really meant to touch the same ground as all the artists from all of the ages had done, no one could really comprehend.

Florence was a manly town. Straight and direct, it stood there without a shimmer of enigmatic secrets, without ingratiation or braids and trimming. Deeper within his view, the green band of the river Arno sparkled and Luca grasped the mustard and leather colours of Florence from the black-white of the Battistero to the dark green and white and gold of San Miniato behind him. He caught the touch of rose at the cathedral and Giotto's campanile, but the town was as stern and earnest as the big sculptors and architects had been who had moulded the view of the town throughout centuries past. They'd been bachelors, monks, holy men and soldiers, prophets and eremites ... always men. Women never played a role. Florence was the perfect town for Luca.

He turned his back and focussed on the graveyard in front of him. Then he placed one foot in front of the other and let them guide him. There, just next to the path it stood -- a life-size god of death, made of stone. Partially moss-covered, it sprawled despairingly over a grave plate, torch still flaming with its face buried into the earth and exposing its naked buttocks for Luca to touch.

He crouched closely. His fingers outlined the strong back, then fell down over the curve of the backside and remained there. His eyes remained unfocussed as they gazed into nowhere. What would it feel like to touch living, warm skin instead of cold, mossy stone? To see it move towards him, turning to expose the front side, waiting just for him? What would it feel like when his mouth engulfed his secret desire, to smell and taste it? Especially when this skin was male?

He felt the rough stone. It was difficult to come to terms that he was an outsider, ostracized from his friends who whistled after the girls in short skirts. To avoid suspicion, Luca imitated his friends, flirting and laughing with them, but his heart remained cold and his eyes turned in different ways.

Florence was a hard test for someone like him, because the town seemed to be blessed with dozens of pretty young men who knew about their beauty. Luca was too young to have the guts needed to visit the places dedicated for men like him. Florence was not a homophobic place, just the opposite. Here, homosexuality seemed to be at home and always had.

From under the stony buttocks, a lizard appeared, then stopped to lay in the sun and warm her belly on the heated stone. Its light green back caught the sunbeams, and emphasizing the pale pattern of jewel-like scales.

A noise sounded from the entrance of the graveyard and the lizard vanished with a few quick movements. The procession had started and Luca rose. He thought he saw a pair of blue eyes behind a pillar watching him, but the next second they had vanished. A group of trumpet players played a solemn melody as they walked in step in front of the group of mourners carrying a coffin covered with a white, silky cloth and a bouquet of flowers.

A shadow slipped into the group to join the train of people, passing Luca who stood with his head bent respectfully. He knew the man who was carried to his last rest. Itwas Matteo di Ser Federico di Gondi-Lucertola, brother of the mayor and patriarch of the noble family of Gondi. He'd died suddenly of a heart attack.

Luca shivered under the sharp look coming from a pair of blue eyes and was suddenly ashamed of his unsuitable, casual clothes. The eyes belonged to a young, haughty face ... one at once fine and noble in its structure with a sharp, Florentine nose and framed with a shock of mahogany-brown curls. Luca knew it was truly worthy of an Raphael-angel comparison. Yet, there was no smile, just a dangerous glistening in his blue eyes; a warning to stay apart and keep the place where Luca belonged -- the working class, who had no share of nobility and old-fashioned dignity.

Luca stepped back and watched the train pass until it stopped in front of a family tomb. Emblazoned in golden letters was the family name over the heavy bronze door. The coffin and the closest family members vanished inside, the young man with them, while the others remained waiting outside.

Luca didn't know why he stayed waiting, alone, but something held him. Suppressed sobs could be heard while tiny, lace-covered handkerchiefs were pressed to noses and black veiled faces. Luca waited until the young man reappeared, pale and silent. He waited until the last flower was laid and the music had fallen silent. He pressed his back upon the sun-warmed wall of another tomb, absorbing the youth's features with his eyes. The black Cut, the gloves and shiny shoes ... much too warm for this day of May ... the straight, upright line of his back. Luca watched the young man's hand run through his curls and he felt a twinge of excitement burn in his stomach.

People passed him without taking notice. At last, his fascination came forward slowly, hesitating when he was at the same level with Luca. He turned his head and met Luca with an open look. The young man made a sign with his head and abruptly vanished between two grave houses. Luca rose, then followed.

The youth stood nonchalantly with one leg leaning back against the wall while removing his gloves and opening his Cut. As Luca breathed in deeply and opened his mouth to speak, the lad made a quick movement towards him then pressed his lips upon Luca's. Heat and a flood of hormones rushed through his novice body as he felt the tongue, the foreign body, pressing briefly against his own - and then it was over. Harsh whispered words of "Tomorrow, same time" were uttered, then he was gone.

Luca stumbled to the nearest wall and touched his lips. Dazed, he stared at the corner where the young man had vanished. Then he started to run, trying desperately for a last look, and saw the black figure in the distance. It didn't turn back.

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2
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He ran his fingers through mahogany-brown curls that fell to the neck and he was allowed to play with them. The young man turned his head toward him and covered Luca's lips with feverish kisses, then ground their naked abdomens together until they appeared like one. Bluish, tender lids closed over stunning blue eyes; the lashes fluttered excitedly. And then ... with a jolt, Luca woke up.

He had sprayed himself, his hand still clasping his penis. Embarrassed, though no one had witnessed, he jumped from the bed and fished a tissue from the package. The floorboards creaked under his soles. He listened, but everything was quiet.

It was Sunday and the memory returned. Yesterday he had met the boy with the haughty face who had inflamed his body and stirred his interest. He was the son of a noble family, the nephew of the mayor and well known in this town. At nineteen, he was already notorious for his adventures; a real womanizer. Pah. Luca now knew better.

He slipped through the door, crossed the small corridor and entered the bathroom. His grandfather had rebuilt the old house completely, but without modern tiles and fittings. There was still the old bath-oven which had to be heated with wood and paper, but at last, finally, warm water gushed from the pipe when Luca stepped into the bath tub. He washed off the shed of white drops with the hose, along with the sweat of sexual dreams he had so often of late whenever his dreams of men haunted him.

When the water started to get cold again, he finished his toilet, dressed and descended to the kitchen and his mother, who was already preparing breakfast. His father was there too, bent over his thick books filled with photographs and drawings of patterns and stones.

"Buon giorno", Luca said, trying to sound cheerful. His father looked up without really seeing him, but he answered his greeting with silent voice. The smell of cooked wafers wafted through the room. His mother gave him a loving glance, then pulled honey and marmalade from the pantry and placed them upon the freshly scrubbed wooden table that stood in the middle of the wide, dark room.

The windows were narrow and large and grated with iron bars. It had been built that way four hundred years ago. The house hadn't always been in the possession of the Montori family, but was given to them as a present for their faithfulness by the last remnants of the Medici-ancestors. The windowsill was full of herb pots whose scent wafted throughout the entire ground floor. Whenever Luca thought about his home, he connected it with that scent.

The interior had seen better days, but Lucas' mother reigned over the household with a loving, yet strong hand. She reigned unopposed since her husband wasn't of mind enough to stand his place. He was always too caught up in his work.

"First day of your holidays, son", he said now, closing carefully the book he was leafing through. Luca had seldom seen him without a book tucked under his arm.

"Yes." Luca sat down and poured thin coffee, strengthened with chicory for his father and himself. His mother placed a plate with wafers on the table in front of him and ruffled his hair affectionately. He hated it, but held his complaint. He wasn't a little boy anymore. Next week he would be seventeen and old enough to be considered a man.

His brothers still slept, Luca assumed. Giano, the brother nearest to him in age, could sleep in each day because he waited for the start of the first semester at the University of Pisa. As if on cue, the door opened and a tousled Giano entered the kitchen, eyes thick from sleep and his shirt buttoned the wrong way. "Buon giorno", he said sleepily, then took his seat at the table and poured himself coffee.

"Read too long yesterday evening?" Clarissa asked. "Or have you been out?"

"Have been out", Giano said reserved, but Luca saw a brief redness scurrying over his face. Like Luca himself, he had inherited Clarissa's blond hair and her ephebian-like features. From their father, both had the large, brown eyes -- a nice contrast which always gained people's attention.

Luca's thoughts drifted. He thought it funny that Alessandro's brown hair and blue eyes were reversed from their own. Nature at play. The thought of the young noble man made his cheeks flush as well, along with the memory of the dirty dreams he'd had last night. Furtively, he examined his brother, who was a year older than Luca himself and the pet of the family.

"Meeting with friends?" Clarissa asked innocently, pouring herself coffee as she sat down to eat.

"Yes." Giano bent his head over his plate and started to eat silently. He wasn't normally very communicative, but Luca had a closer connection with him than he did with his other brothers. They lived their own private lives with separate activities and constantly changing girlfriends. One primary thing connected each of them -- they worked at the opificio delle pietre dure, a famous, nationwide workshop for mosaics, intarsia, and the restoration of works of art. The family of the Montori had worked there for generations and Lucas' way was so booked. Not that he dismissed this work. He was actually looking forward to joining this honourable, worldwide high-acclaimed profession. He just wasn't sure if he could be as good as his father.

"What are your plans now before you join the university?" his father asked, chewing at a wafer and licking honey from the corner of his lips. His bushy, grey hair always looked uncombed and gave him the aura of a scattered professor. "I trust you won't just lounge around and live off us, now will you." It was a sharp-tongued statement, not a question. Niccolò Montori belonged to the old Florentine generation, outwardly hard as a nutshell, and inwardly the same. But despite this, he had a very real passion -- the love and devotion for his work.

"Or do you want to lounge around the hospital of Santo Spirito examining the intestines of corpses as that scoundrel, Michelangelo, did, eh?"

Luca hid a grin. That was his father's favourite objection to his son's wish to become a surgeon. For his religious father, it was a crime to open dead bodies.

Giano lifted his head and retorted heatedly. "And what if I did?"

Father and son stared at each other. Clarissa shifted restlessly upon her chair. "Basta cosi," she said. "Giano has chosen this profession and I'm glad to hear about something different than stones, dust and squeezed fingers. Look at your eyes." She referred to the fact that Niccolò's eyes were perpetually inflamed due to the dust the cutting of the stones caused. Niccolò squelched a curse between his teeth. He couldn't compete with Clarissa's arguments. It was best to say nothing.

"You've been on the cimitero yesterday?" Giano asked his brother suddenly. "Did you see the funeral?"

Luca couldn't help but blush. "Yes," he said in a subdued voice.

"How was it?" Clarissa asked with interest. "What did they wear? Black lace and veils? Was there lots of music and flowers?"

"Have you seen the Prince of the Lilies?" Giano interrupted her.

"The prince?" Luca croaked. "Alessandro, yes."

"That good for nothing," Niccolò growled. "Good that he's off soon. He was the one who brought his father to an early death."

"Niccolò!" gasped Clarissa and made the sign of the cross. "Don't talk like this."

"I'm right," Niccolò responded. "He's a loafer and brings shame on his family. The girls are crazy for him. He turns their heads, I wonder how he's managed not to impregnate the whole town."

Giano swallowed a piece of wafer wrong and coughed. "And what if you're wrong? It's not the girls alone."

"Indeed so, son. He makes a lot of noise when he and his lot putt through the night on their motorbikes when a honest man needs to sleep. He bellows drunkenly under the windows and God knows what drugs he takes." He lowered his voice. "They even say, he goes with men, making them pay for a look at him in his Adam's costume, as bare as God has created him." He too made the sign of the cross.

Again Luca blushed, but Giano laughed disdainfully. "And where did you hear this? Do they tell it at work? Or in the pubs?"

"It's well-known, son."

"What is well-known?" The door opened and Luca's oldest brothers, Dante and Marcello, stepped in. Both were appropriately clothed. It was an unwritten rule in the house of the Montori that you were fully dressed when you sit at the table.

"That Gondi-Lucertola boy."

"Sure, he's well-known to all of us. Isn't he?" Dante threw a significant look to his younger brother, Giano. "That faggot. Yesterday, I saw him down the river banks at the Villa Kazar. He let himself be touched by those dirty fingers of the queer Luciano. And he seemed to enjoy it."

Luca didn't know how Dante meant his words. Either he was revolted or he enjoyed watching the offensive and obviously heinous actions.

"Basta." Clarissa said once more. "I don't want to hear that kind of talk at my breakfast table. What this boy is doing is not bothering us, capisce?

He's young."

"And that's an excuse for those faggot-things?"

Giano harshly placed his coffee cup on the table. "And that gives you the right to put your nose high into the air and feel so much cleaner than the so-called dirty faggot? Eh? What are you searching for under the skirts of the chicks? Fish?"

"Giano! Out you are. Go." A steep wrinkle of anger appeared on Clarissa's forehead, promising no good. Giano pushed back his chair and stomped out from kitchen. " You are ready for church in ten minutes!" she called after him.

Luca sat dazed. Alessandro, the bad guy of the town, had never been an issue in this house, nor the obviously homophobic opinions of his brothers. Dante and Marcello smirked silently and the rest of the meal continued in silence.

Up in his room after breakfast, Luca fought with himself about whether or not to go and meet Alessandro. He had been at Villa Kazar yesterday? He'd been at the posh restaurant for the rich and beautiful, and the hangers-on who considered themselves as one of them? He was fondled by the queer, Luciano? And today he wanted to be fondled by him, by Luca?

His thoughts spun on uncontrollably. 'And how many queers do you know, Luca Montori? Perhaps this is your way into the world of gays? And if you don't like it, you can always return to the odorous and fishy-smelling underwear of the chicks,' he said half laughing. 'Ugh.'

 

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3
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The lizard was there again. Sunbeams danced upon its light-green skin making it glisten like chrysopras. But with a few quick movements, it rushed between the stones and became invisible. Luca squatted beside the fallen angel. Or was it a god? Was there a god, holding a torch? Enlightening the path that led to eternal life?

A shadow fell beside him. Luca looked up into Alessandro's face. It was tinged by a smile. Wordlessly, he pulled Luca to his feet and dragged him along, crossing the path and passing the tombs until he entered a very old and tattered looking crypt. It was cool when he stopped in the middle the room. Small beams of sunlight painted a pattern upon his skin. His eyes reflected the spots.

"I'm Alessandro." He stepped forward, embraced Lucas' face with his hands and engaged him in an open-lipped, wet kiss. Luca moaned involuntarily, but did nothing to stop it, then finally reciprocated. Alessandro's lips wandered to Luca's ears and neck while his hands tugged at Luca's shirt, pulling it from his blue jeans.

"What's yours?" His voice was hoarse and deep with passion.

"Luca," Luca said indistinctly. His heart beat in his throat like a drum roll causing his blood to pound in his ears. Alessandro fell to the ground, taking Luca's trousers with him. Once there, on his knees, he pulled down Lucas' underpants then hesitated for a second to brush the tip of Lucas' member with his lips. From his mouth came a strange, approving sound when Lucas' penis rose within seconds firm with blood; pulsating and glistening moistly.

Luca's breath through his mouth was laboured as he bent his head, closed his eyes and prayed to all saints he knew that this would never end.

It was more than he had ever imagined ... to be touched by a hand other than his own ... to be licked by another's mouth. The tongue felt like fire until all of his life seemed to flood into Alessandro's mouth, then overflowed it. The last remains being licked from the corner of his lips.

"You can open your eyes again," Alessandro smirked. "Where do you live?"

"San... Santa Croce." Luca whispered. A surge of cool wind touched his now abandoned and exposed penis. He covered it with his palms, but Alessandro pushed them away and continued to stroke him. "Santa Croce? Old dyer's trade quarter? Going to school still?"

Lucas' member started to rise again. "Opificio", he squeezed out. "I start soon."

Alessandro whistled through his teeth. "You're good with stones and mosaics and intarsia?"

Luca nodded. He thought that Alessandro was good with his hands too.

"Are you often here?"

Luca nodded again with gritted teeth. Alessandro groped his balls and stroked the length of his penis. Luca's hands embraced Alessandro's waist and tried to pull himself down; he needed a place to rest his shaking legs, but Alessandro held him upright. "Not here. Come to my place?"

Luca eyes grew wide. "To your palazzo? No way."

"Why not?" Alessandro pouted. He wasn't used to rejection. He let loose of Lucas' penis.

"I'm not sure... your father... mother and all."

Alessandro's face became like stone. Now he looked much older than he was. "I do what I like", he said haughtily, then continued in a more conciliatory voice, "We have some weeks before I go to Pisa."

"Pisa?"

"I'll study art history." He smiled a bewitching smile. "But before that we can have a lot of fun." He gave Luca's penis a last stroke, causing it to jerk and stand upright before he squeezed it back into the underpants - not without a look of regret. "He looks fine," he said excited.

"He?"

Alessandro pulled up Luca's zipper and patted the bulge. Luca didn't dare ask about Alessandro's state of excitement. Should he follow him and find out?

"Where did you get that blond hair of yours?" Alessandro combed all five fingers through the abundant strands.

"As a real, Italian macho you must be mad for blonds, right?" Luca joked and started to laugh his pearly laughter. Alessandro joined him. "Are you famous for that laughter?" he grinned, walking out of the crypt.

Sunlight flooded his feature, making his hair shiny red and inflaming his skin. He spread his arms outward and bent his head back. "Life is wonderful, Luca. Share it with me, won't you?"

Luca, confused by the outburst's vivid exuberance, didn't answer. "They call you the Prince of the Lilies," he said lowly.

"Yes." Alessandro laughed. "And of the lizards. Whenever you try to catch a lizard it drops its tail and escapes." He looked at Luca. "Next Sunday, same time?"

Luca nodded. Prince of the Lilies. Alessandro di Ser Matteo di Gondi-Lucertola. Life couldn't be easy when your name was lizard. Or was it?

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4
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"Budapest, Gennaro 1429

"His name was Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Simone Guidi di Monte Cassai and he descended from an old family of carpenters: cabinet- and chests makers. Even as child, he had been bigger and stouter and stronger than other children - opposite to me. His younger brother called him deprecatingly, Masaccio: the big Thomas, the colossus.

He came into my workshop there in the town of San Giovanni Alt'ura in the fruitful ground of Tuscany. He came and I was lost. One look into his fiery, black eye and I was ablaze. Although the love between two men in the Republic of Tuscany was not scorned, the eye of the priest was omnipresent and the people easily influenced.

I could have been his father, but we both did not mind. He considered me as his mentor when I taught him to guide his paintbrush or to use the pencil filled with the red powder from the Arabian town of Sinope to transfer his cardboard to the bare walls.

He was sixteen when his wild and free-spirited mind desired to break free from the oppressive conditions of our village. It was Firenze that called him, the town where Maestro Giotto had worked as the true explorer of the old art, to paint a three-dimensional painting - height, width and length - and I knew it was just a matter of time when my Tommaso would exceed me.

I had to follow him wherever he would go."

Alessandro's hand lowered the worn book and pondered. He lay fully dressed upon his bed and devoted himself to his favourite business: the artists of Florence. He felt an odd affection to the wild inhabitants of his hometown and when anybody should think that the business of art was something for stay-at-homes and weak queers, he was badly mistaken. There was a whole conception of life to learn from them, and the inhabitants of Florence had enough self-confidence to demand only the best. Just like this town had produced the best of art, at least for two, short centuries.

It was easy to learn about the reason for that. Foreigners naturally thought that the sunny, free landscape had been the inspiration even though the best pieces of art had been made under the pressures of wars, self-serving dukes and power- hungry popes. In the end, it must have been the special Italian genes.

Alessandro felt his own genes were tired and fading. He was the last offspring of the Gondi-Lucertola's. He had no brother, nor sister anymore, and his mother wouldn't bear any new children with another man, now that his father had died of a heart attack. She was a belletrist, spending her time with piano playing, embroidering and painting the beauty of theMugello's valley. At this moment she prepared for the move of the family to their villa in the Fiesole's hills, to flee the beginning stream of tourists and later the quenching heat that filled the valley of the Arno, bringing mosquitoes and malaria.

Alessandro's eyelashes fluttered. No, that belonged to another time. It wasn't Malaria anymore. It was the breath of the past that drove her out of town and the certainty that she was finally allowed to live her own life. Now that her husband had gone, she no longer cared about her son as she always had done. Now, her nights were filled with the bitter taste of absinth.

He was glad to be leaving in a month, discovering a new town, being on his own. And he would make sure that everybody knew who he was: the Lily's Prince, ready to conquer the boys and not the girls. Florence was so boring for that matter. He knew each gay man by name because each weekend he encountered the same people ... except for that Luca-boy who had appeared out of nowhere at the cimitero. Luca was young enough to be innocent and young enough not to be broken when he would leave because there would be others left behind for him.

A chattering sound rose up to the window of his room which sat under the roof. The design of the palazzo's roof, with the broad loggia of pillars that let the air in, also allowed the scent of wild rosemary from the hills to filter in even though the palazzo stood in the centre of town. The ‘Lizard-Tower', as it was known in Florence, was the remains of a large tower-house from the medieval ages. The windows were small and barred. On the outside, holes remained from forgotten staircases on the walls originally intended to allow entry to each floor separately. They were long gone now.

If he hadn't received this book from his grandfather, he would be as sunken into 'dolce far niente' as his parents have been. He didn't even bother to hide his passion for art in front of his buddies. They had laughed at him only one time. For them, everything was taken for granted; the beauty in stone, the precious gift Florence was living from, even if it meant a lot of unpleasantness during the summer. Actually, he had never spent the summer in the seething cauldron of this town. That wasn't his problem. He was young, and he radiated the innate beauty of an ancient fresco -- and he was rich, rich enough to be a loafer, a bum, frittering away the time with whoring, drinking and stupid chatter.

The deep bells of Giotto's campanile sounded. Alessandro jumped to his feet. He would not miss the chance to meet Luca at the cimitero.

"Why do you always crouch beside that naked ass, eh?" he greeted Luca, kneeling beside the stony God with the torch. "You don't have an odd desire for corpses, do you?" His blue eyes glistened when they caught the sunlight. "You can have my ass to touch."

Luca jerked his hand from the stone and turned. There Alessandro stood, red-flaming hair, curls falling onto his bare neck, the white, long-sleeved shirt that was tucked into his jeans was unbuttoned allowing Luca to see his navel. Luca's heart surged. Nobody was as sexy as Alessandro, not even the naked, flawless stone.

"Have you ever been to our family chapel?" Alessandro asked, helping Luca up. Luca threw a furtive glance to the family tomb down the path.

"No, not that. What I mean is the family chapel at Novella. Don't say you haven't a clue about your own town."

Luca lifted his shoulders helplessly. Surely he had been to the church of Santa Maria Novella, but it was gloomy and there weren't any mosaics to admire, nor precious pietre dure works.

Alessandro shook his head, chiding as they set off towards the exit of the cemetery. "How was church?" he asked, looking at the boy walking at his side.

"The same as always", Luca answered, happy to leave the sensitive theme. He felt a little stupid. "Why do you want to show me your chapel? Haven't you been to church already?"

"Gesù! You are worse than the pope himself. This is Florence! We may be catholic, but our minds are free."

Luca thought about his father and saw him making the sign of the cross at Alessandro's words. "So, why do you want to go then?"

Alessandro stopped at the balustrade that overlooked the town. A breeze moved his hair as he lined up with the tourists that stood in awe with cameras in front of their eyes. "Because it's a long way from here to there." He pointed to the filigree line, jutting out of the flatness of the town, indicating the church's clock tower. "And we have a lot of time until we reach it", he whispered.

'Time for what?' Luca thought. 'To make small talk?' He was disappointed. He had prepared himself to be kissed and sucked again, but Alessandro was behaving like a tourist guide. Then he fell abruptly silent, joining the foreigner's silence. It was impossible to speak when Florence lay flooded in sunlight at their feet.

Luca felt a certain pride. He had never thought about what it was like to live in a living museum. He concerned himself with his own problems. Now, suddenly, he had a kindred spirit at his side and everything looked easy. He followed Alessandro as he sauntered down the long and steep staircase, crossing the PiazzaleMichelangelo with the copy of a verdigris-David, and meeting women with buggies on their way to the Boboli-Gardens. They continued down the snake-like way until they reached the embankments of the river. On this Sunday afternoon, the streets were empty because it was the time when Florentines either met with their family exclusively or gathered in parks.

 

The yellow-washed building of Santo Spirito appeared and Luca remembered his father's words to Giano about not examining corpses as Michelangelo had. He had to grin. "I hope you're thinking about coming home with me, later?" he heard Alessandro say. "There's nobody around to disturb us. Madama Lucertola is busy with her preparations for the move to Fiesole."

"You will leave with her?" Disappointment surged through Luca. "I thought you said you had a month before you go to Pisa. My brother goes later."

Alessandro stood and gave him an attentive look. "Your brother's going to Pisa? What is he studying?"

"Medicine. He wants to become a surgeon."

"Surgeon." Alessandro's twisted his lips. "I can't see blood."

"Me neither."

Alessandro continued on in silence, his head bent as if he was counting the paving stones. A whistle from somewhere near made him look up. Luca saw a gathering of lads in jean jackets and leather trousers leaning against motorbikes. "So that's the reason you stood us up this afternoon, eh?" one of them shouted.

Luca looked away, wishing that the earth would swallow him. They were all older than him, and they had a somewhat threatening aura around them. But Alessandro remained calm. "Don't worry, Nino. You won't miss a thing", he said relaxed and winked.

"And we thought it was a chick you wanted to lay. Now we see ... this."

"Shut up." Alessandro moved past them, pulling Luca with him. Lorries, with bottles of Chianti, crossed the piazza along with open carts laden with salad and chicken on their way to the grocery shops.

"Were they your friends?" Luca asked after they had passed.

"I don't have any friends", Alessandro said and Luca again sensed the arrogance. Suddenly, everything became clear: his loneliness of a misunderstood adolescent, alone, with his mixed-up feelings. "You don't want to have any", he said after a while.

"My father thinks you are the reason for your father's death."

"What?" Alessandro stopped abruptly and supported a hand upon the brown retaining wall which forced the river into its bed. "Excuse me, but your father talks about matters he doesn't have a clue about. It was my father that drove me out onto the streets." Luca saw that he wanted to say more, but Alessandro closed his mouth and seemed to chew on the words he kept from leaving his lips. Luca sensed that now wasn't a good time to insist on learning Alessandro's secrets - if he had any. But everybody had secrets, didn't they? "Do your... buddies know you are ... going with men?"

Alessandro, ready to walk on, stopped again, turning his head to Luca in amazement. "I'm going with men? Who told you this?"

Luca laughed despite his fear. "Come on! What is it that you want from me then?"

"Sex," Alessandro said bluntly, not blinking.

"Then go and find some smelly girl's underwear."

First Alessandro looked as if he would hit him, then his face brightened and an outburst of heartfelt laughter filled the warm air. "You're something! You think that sex with girls and sex with boys is the same, yes?" He stepped closer. "Ever fucked a girl? No, you haven't, right?"

"My father says that he wonders why you haven't made half of the town pregnant."

"My father says, my father says!" Alessandro parroted. "Don't you have a mind of your own? What do you think I am? Sure, I don't work, I don't go to school, I lounge around with the lot making noise in the night. But I'm no vandal. Have you ever heard that I defaced the stones and churches and monuments? I just suffer from ... boredom!"

"Boredom, huh," Luca returned. "Well, then we should hurry and you can show me your private chapel. It would be something for you to do at least." Determinedly, Luca went ahead, refusing to look and see if Alessandro was following him or not. It didn't take long before Alessandro was at his side again. "Are you interested in art?" he asked.

"Sure. But I don't know much. Just the important facts, not the details. That's all. I know a lot about how to work stones into mosaics though. My father is a master. All my brothers are working there and now I'm the last to join."

"So why does one of your brothers want to become a surgeon then?"

Luca shrugged. "I don't know." Silently, he feared that Giano wanted to leave his home just to live alone. He was a rebellious young man, always with an opposing word on his tongue, but knowing him as Luca did, Giano was gentle as a lamb and, Giano didn't care what his father said.

They crossed the bridge of Santa Trinità, then passed the marble head of the God Mars with his erased face. It had lain in the river after the bombardment of Hitler's troops when they were destroying the bridges. Luca knew that it was the explicit wish of the German Führer that Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge that shouldn't be destroyed because even he thought it beautiful.

Rowing boats and canoes swam upon the Arno, reminding him of his time at Oxford, but Alessandro didn't stop to reflect and dream. Soon they had vanished in the maze of narrow streets, passing churches and Palazzi.

"You haven't answered my question", Luca said. "Why do you leave for Pisa so soon?"

"Because it's time to leave. There's nothing that holds me here."

Luca felt a little pain. "And do you often go to gay meeting points?"

"Want to join me?" Alessandro retorted. "They are always waiting for fresh meat. Everybody knows everybody; it's boring."

Now Luca seemed to know why Alessandro wanted to leave the town. He needed something new. "What about me?" he asked quietly.

"You as fresh meat? Why not."

Luca moaned inwardly. Was he really that meek and thought himself so insignificant as to just follow this braggart like a puppy, ready to get his daily good pummelling and then to lick his hands afterwards? "You're nasty." The angry retort escaped him. "I sacrifice my time for you and you have nothing better to do than to laugh at me."

"Huh? Sacrifice your time? Then go and jerk off alone."

Alessandro went on with long steps. Luca watched him from behind, focusing on the gentle movement of his jeans-clad butt and the swaying of his hips. Alessandro walked on confidently, knowing that Luca would follow him. And, he did, but he didn't know why.

 

It was so cool inside the church of Santa Maria Novella after the warm sunlight that Luca shivered when they entered. "It's a Dominican Church, founded in 1221." Alessandro said, automatically lowering his voice.

"I know this. You don't need to behave like a tourist guide."

Alessandro gave him an amused look over his shoulder. "But I want to become a tourist guide."

Luca was surprised. He hadn't thought that Alessandro had wishes for any profession at all.

"Why do you think I'm going to study art history?"

"To fight your boredom?"

Alessandro didn't answer, but pulled him to the left side of the chapel where a large fresco covered the wall. Almost solemnly, he said, "The Trinity of Masaccio. He painted it in 1425. It took one hundred years after Master Giotto's death to produce another hero like him. Masaccio studied his frescoes and quickly learned how to continue his work. Even more, he was the man, in the then modern times, who remembered the perspective painting."

"Remembered? It was all forgotten, right?" Luca threw in, trying to re-call his art-lessons in school.

Alessandro nodded. "It's called linear-perspective. Masaccio was the first to realize Brunelleschi's invention for architecture in a painting." He pulled Luca to a dark-red spot amidst the marble floor. "Stay put and study it." Luca did so and suddenly the fresco gained depth and three-dimensional view. The arch curved over the Godfather with his supporting hands above the outstretched arms of his son hanging on the cross. "Amazing."

"Yes."

Luca saw that the fresco was painted with a strange red colour like dried blood, a blue-green and the colours of brownish earth. "Looks somewhat wretched." He shuddered. "Those dead eyes..."

 

"Looks like the Tuscan farmers he doubtlessly took as models", Alessandro said. "It was found again in the 19th century during restoration work. The pillock of Vasari thought the church was too gothic in style, meaning he thought it was barbarian, and so he remodelled it while tearing out the monk's choir, placing large altars to each side and over painted the old frescoes with white colour."

Luca remembered Vasari as being the biographer of all-important Renaissance-artists and a personal friend of Michelangelo. He was sure that if Michelangelo had seen this disfigurement he wouldn't have been his friend anymore.

"And this", Alessandro pointed to the fresco below, "was found a few years ago under all the layers of paint: the grey-in-grey Grisaille of a skeleton laying upon a coffin. Imagine, fifty years before Leonardo drew an anatomically exact skeleton, it was Masaccio who did it first. And how was he able to do it?"

Luca shrugged. "He probably dug up the corpses at a cemetery." He read the inscription: "I was what you are now; what I am now, you will be."

"Creepy", he said.

"Creepy like Masaccio's death."

A questioning look covered Luca's expression. Alessandro continued.

"Nobody knows when and why he died. He just vanished from Rome's earth. He had gone there to follow his teacher Masolino. Perhaps the teachers at Pisa know more about that."

"Why should they?"

"Because Masaccio worked in Pisa as well. Come. Our chapel is the one next to the altar chapel."

Luca followed him through the long, echoing hall. Florentines sat on benches praying silently with folded hands. Footsore tourists, tired from walking on the pavement and sated and confused from all the impressions, joined them. Luca was confused as well. He hadn't expected that Alessandro could have such a widespread knowledge of Florence's history where art was concerned. His steps echoed on the patterned marble ground. Luca felt oddly oppressed, but he couldn't quite explain why. His father said that the walls of churches and houses absorbed the spirits of people who lived and worked and prayed there. So, what if the spirit of the fiery Dominican monks who'd fought heresy, pride and gluttony still remained here? He knew he wouldn't want to visit this church alone.

Alessandro had stopped in front of the large altar-chapel. Next to it was another, smaller one. "That's ours", Alessandro stated. Polychrome marble and porphyry decoration covered the walls, and the sarcophagi were modelled as benches on the sidewalls. "The most precious thing is this crucifix made by Brunelleschi, the Master of the Cupola. It is the first depiction of Christ without a loincloth. Our family made a great effort to see that he placed it in our chapel. Money I assume." He grinned slyly.

"Are these your ancestors?” Luca asked, pointing to the sarcophagi. Alessandro nodded. "They were contemporaries of Lorenzo de' Medici in the 15th century. Silk-merchants. We had ships at Pisa's harbour.”

"I thought you had enough of church going for today, nephew", an older man said suddenly next to them. He was of impressive stature with greying hair at the temples, and stubborn curls over his forehead. It had the same mahogany-brown colour as Alessandro's. His small, round eyes pierced Luca's, instantly leaving Luca feeling insignificant to the point of almost shrinking under his stare. Luca felt the barrier separating people like him with people like them.

"Oh, zio. I just wanted to show a friend our chapel."

"So? Is he a foreigner that you have to explain the treasures of this church? And since when do you have friends? Or more precisely, since when do you call your lot friends?" His voice sounded bitter cold.

Luca stepped away and pretended to study the frescoes at the altar-chapel. He didn't want to meet any more relatives or so-called friends of Alessandro today. He'd had enough. He certainly didn't belong to this class and they made him feel it. He tried to eavesdrop though he couldn't understand a word of the harsh and quickly whispered words of uncle and nephew. When Alessandro tapped his shoulder, he jumped.

"We'll leave. I hadn't expected to meet him here."

"Who was it?"

"The brother of my father.”

At first Luca was confused, for the brother of Alessandro's father was the mayor. Obviously, Alessandro had more than one uncle.

"He doesn't seem to be in the best mood", he replied furtively.

"He hates me." He shrugged.

Again Luca wondered about, but marvelled at Alessandro's indifference. Perhaps it was just a mask. It could not be easy to be the bad boy for everyone. He didn't ask why his uncle hated him, but followed him out into the sun-flooded piazza with the obelisk in the middle of it.

"What are we doing now?" Alessandro asked.

Luca had no answer. He knew he still wanted to be alone with him, to feel his decadent kisses. Then he saw Alessandro looking at his watch. "Listen, I have things to do. Let's meet next Sunday, alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, he walked away, crossing the piazza and then vanished down one of the streets leading to the centre of the town.

_________________

5
__________________

Luca's tongue remained at the corner of his lips. Attentively he followed the lines his pencil drew upon the paper and saw Alessandro's face developing. He wasn't that good with sketching, at least not as good as his father was, but it was enough for everybody to recognize to whom it belonged. Now the body... with an open zipper, the erect penis jutting out from the slit of his underpants. He drew it longer than it was in reality and Luca grinned mischievously.

There was a knock at the door and hastily Luca closed the bloc of paper to hide the drawing. "Come in", he said and Giano opened the door. "What are you doing here in the dark on this sunny day?" he asked. "Want to come with me?"

"Whereto?"

"Just walking."

It was the middle of the week and tomorrow would be Luca's birthday. "Alright." Luca rose to his feet.

"I saw you recently with the Gondi-Lucertola boy", Giano started once they were outside. The Montori-house was situated next to the river because it had once housed places for dyed clothes that had to be washed in the Arno. It once was a poor quarter for minority workers and Jews, but now, since the factories had vanished, it looked brighter and a lot cleaner Luca assumed. Black-dressed, old women limped to the church of Santa Croce, their black handbags pressed tightly to their flabby breasts. Giano and Luca made room for workers, carrying desktops, mirrors and wardrobes to pass.

"Do you know him?"

Giano shook his head. "I just know he isn't good for you." He briefly embraced Luca's shoulders and ruffled his fingers through Luca's thick, blond hair. Luca liked Giano's touch as much as he disliked it when his mother did the same, but he couldn't express why. Perhaps because he felt so comfortable in his brother's presence. "And how do you know so well that he isn't good for me?" he asked.

"Luca." Giano stood in front of his younger brother and looked at him with serious, brown eyes. "I just know it. They and us - it doesn't fit together. They are different. You can't rely on them. One day they are your friends, the other they don't know you anymore. Please spare yourself a lot of trouble."

"There's nothing between us, not even friendship." Luca defended himself. "He knows so much about history, and it's fun to listen to him."

Giano looked flabbergasted. "He knows about history? That's new to me. I thought a boy like him wouldn't have had other interests than to be a plague for the world."

Now Luca laughed. "You are the one who is snotty, my dear. YOU draw the lines that separate us, isn't that so? You know fairly well that aristocracy hasn't the power anymore, the times are over when a noble man could decide about life or death. And haven't you told me always that the common Florentine was a rebel, fighting each supremacy, no matter if it was a religious or an earthly one?"

"The common Florentine once burnt a priest whose commemorative plaque you still can see in the pavement at Piazza Signoria! They tore apart the bodies of their enemies and ate them!"

Luca rolled his eyes. "That's old-fashioned stuff! Can't we never begin again without it?"

"Now, who was the one interested in history, eh?" Giano asked half-amused, tripped over an uneven kerb and almost had a crash with a Vespa. The driver shouted obscenities but Giano just grinned. "This town! About time I was off."

"I'll miss you like hell", Luca said.

"I'm not out of the world, piccolino. I'll have a lot of time in-between the semesters and will visit you. Or you'll come to me. It's just a cat's jump away."

Suddenly it struck Luca. "Alessandro starts his study too, but in a month, unlike you."

He saw Giano's dismayed face. "What is he studying?"

"Art history, don't worry."

"Well, then...."

"Do you think you will like the university? I mean, certainly you'll have to share a room."

Giano nodded. Actually this was the only thing that bothered him. He wasn't used to sharing his privacy, but he had to make the best of it. He couldn't afford to rent a room. But deep down he was relieved that his parents had allowed him to start studying at Pisa's university. Now he was out of the family's grip and could begin his own life - which was a privilege for an Italian boy who usually remained in the circle of the family until he married. To go from one prison into another, Giano thought. He would be the first medic medic in the family of Montori who were dyers in the medieval ages and delivered to the houses of the Medici clothes and fabrics. When this trade had died and was replaced by machines, they had joined the workshop that created stone-mosaics that were even exported all over the world. But Giano liked to use the skill of his fingers for a different profession. "Anyway", he said aloud, his brown eyes serious. "Watch out for yourself." He breathed deeply the fresh-muddy scent of the river.

Luca remained silent. He didn't know what this special feeling was, he shared with his older brother, but it was very special. And then, when Giano left for Pisa, Luca would be alone. His friends from school-days were out of reach - emotionally. He couldn't share his feelings with them.

He searched for Giano's hand and entwined his fingers with his brother's. Giano turned his head and smiled melancholically. "What do you wish for your birthday?"

"A bit late for you to ask, it's tomorrow."

Giano nodded, a little spark in his eyes, indicating it was just a rhetoric question.

An Alpha-Romeo passed slowly on the street between the walls of the river and the house fronts. The last sunbeams sparkled upon the waves' surface; an orange- reddish glimmer, broken by the darker silhouette of Ponte Vecchio. Florence woke to a new life. People returned from their daily tasks, tourists strolled relaxed, tired from sightseeing, looking for a place to rest and to eat.

The car drove along the river-way, until it appeared again deep down the quayside and came to a halt next to the river shore on a grassy bank. It joined other Alphas and bright red Ferraris. Luca and Giano squinted up their eyes. "The lot is gathering."

Luca recognized Alessandro's dark shock of hair as he stepped out of the car. He didn't know what they were doing there, but it was a ritual that took place usually each Saturday evening. They gathered, chatted, had a drink for an hour or two and parted again.

"Are you sure you want to be friends with him?" Giano mumbled.

Luca shrugged his shoulders, still staring at the figure of the young man in the distance. He seemed to hear his laughter and the clinking of Prosecco-glasses. Florence' rich youth celebrated themselves. Youth and careless life. Luca doubted that he wanted to belong to them.

* * * * *

A multi-voiced 'Happy Birthday' greeted Luca when he opened the kitchen door the next morning. The table was covered with a fresh white cloth and a chocolate cake was standing upon it with 17 burning candles. His mother Clarissa stood with red cheeks behind it, next to her husband and Giano. The other brothers seemed to sleep still - as usual Luca thought a little bit sad. But then he detected the heap of wrapped gifts next to the cake and his face was charmed by a broad smile. Clarissa hugged and kissed him, Niccolò ruffled his hair and Giano shook his shoulders before each one of them burst into a happy laughter. "Actually it's you, Mamma, who should be congratulated", said Giano, "to give birth to that piccolino here."

Clarissa waved him off and Luca grinned, before he closed his eyes and tried to blow out all the candles with one breath. He forgot to make a wish, but then, he didn't believe in wishes anyway. Everything came as it came and it would be alright. The fatalism of the Montori-family was well-known.

"Unwrap your parcels, dear, and then we all can have a piece of that cake of yours", Clarissa said, while his father sat down expectantly at the table. Brand new shoes appeared and a couple of fashionable shirts he would need for the next summer. The heavier parcel hid a collection of tools. Luca looked up surprised, delighting in the old, but looked after and oiled chisels, drills, acute hammers sandpaper and grainer. "They're the tools from Grandpa", Luca said, turning and weighing them in his palms.

"Yes, son", Niccolò said proudly. "They are always passed from father to son. Now it's you, since you'll join the workshop."

Luca pondered why he hadn't given them to Dante or Marcello, then it dawned on him that Niccolò had high expectations of his youngest son. His stomach lurched. Could he hold a candle to Master Niccolò who was the boss of the workers? But he pushed aside his concern and enjoyed the obvious affection.

"Open mine", Giano said and Luca unwrapped the paper and a metal box full with different kinds of pencils appeared and a book that guided talented people how to draw. "Lately I've seen that you started again", Giano explained, "and so I thought it can't harm that you know how to draw lines before you cut them into stone." He winked and Luca stuttered his thanks to all of them. It wasn't even his eighteenth birthday and he was showered with gifts. He wondered if he was worth them all.

"Coffee-time!" Clarissa called, sat the pot upon the table and Niccolò started to cut the cake. They were in the middle of a joyful chat when a knock came at the front door. A minute later Dante appeared in the doorway, incompletely dressed, with mussy, black hair and rings under his eyes. His face showed his scorn. Behind his back appeared another figure. Luca gasped. "Alessandro!" he exclaimed involuntarily.

"Happy Birthday, Luca", Alessandro said, bowing slightly in direction of Luca's parents, stepping into the kitchen, by pushing Dante away. He carried an obviously heavy bag. "You must excuse me that I burst into your home this way, but I have to deliver this to the birthday child."

The words dropped like pearls from Alessandro's lips. Clarissa and Niccolò sat flabbergasted, not able to talk. Giano had pulled up his eyebrows and said nothing either.

"Here, this is for you." Alessandro held out the bag. "You can open it here, it's nothing naughty." He turned to Luca's parents. "And then, Madama e Messer, I would like to ask you politely if I can take Luca with me. I have a surprise for him."

Giano's eyebrows vanished under his mob of hair, due to the old fashioned noble addressing of his parents. He looked the young lad up and down, not knowing what to think. Alessandro was his age, but in his fine clothes, black silky trousers, and lace-covered jabot on the white shirt along with the black jacket he thought he could see a noble man that belonged to another epoch. Clarissa darted a glance to her husband who cleared his throat.

"Well... young man. You act as if you would ask out our daughter for a ... date."

Luca hid a snort with laughter. He still held the bag in his arms, not daring to pull out the contents. It felt heavy like a stone. "Pull it out", Alessandro said.

Finally Luca did as he was asked. Between the colourful paper appeared a blue stone, bigger than his fist, and Niccolò gasped. He craned his head over the table and fished for his glasses. "Hand it over, son", and reached out his hand. "That's Lapis lazuli", he said after a closer examination. He looked up. "Where did you get this?"

"That's my gift for the start of your apprenticeship", Alessandro said instead of an answer. "Make something nice from it."

Luca stared alternatively at the stone, his father and back to Alessandro. Lapis lazuli was as precious as diamonds, well, almost. But in this size of the stone it costs a fortune. It could be ground to make paint of a heavenly blue the old masters had used for their frescoes, or it was used for intarsia and mosaics at his father's workshop. But no matter for what, the old masters of arts sold their lives for a piece of it, and the rich patrons of those times had been stingy enough just to buy an ounce. And now he stared at the biggest Lapis lazuli stone he had ever seen - and probably his father too.

"You haven't answered my plea", Alessandro asked politely.

"What have you in mind with my brother?", Dante said grudgingly from the door, eyeing the stone.

"Nothing that will harm him."

"Well," Niccolò said, returning the stone reluctantly, "if Luca likes to go with you..."

"That was a scene!", Luca laughed, when they were outside the house on the street, meeting the usual old, black-dressed women on their way to Santa Croce. "They even forgot to take me to church, wow."

"Indeed? Well, I usually only go to church when I want to look at the interior."

Luca was silent. They stood again at the riverbanks, now sun flooded with sharp shadows and angles. "Can I ask you a question?"

Alessandro nodded. He swung his arms while he walked on confidently, bathing in his bold success.

"Why are you so interested in art?"

"Aren't you? I thought it was natural as a Florentine child."

Luca shook his head. "I don't think so. I take it for granted", he said in a sudden realization. "And", he hesitated, "I've seen better."

"Better what?" Alessandro came abruptly to a halt.

"Better towns. This one," he made a wide movement with his arm, "is so old, it's gloomy, it's... I can't explain. I feel sometimes choked from the shadows and the narrow lanes. The mud, the tiny pavements, the loud tourists. Had you never the wish to go away?"

Alessandro gave a muffled sound of laughter. "I've been away and I always returned." He walked on.

"Where?" Luca followed him excited. "And where are we going to? What surprise do you have for me?"

"The surprise is for later." His blue eyes were deep. "If you want to go with me, that is."

He'd got Luca of course on the hook and he knew it. They passed anglers lined up on the lower banks, sitting patiently upon their stools, reading the Sunday newspaper, puffing smoke into the warm air and sipping occasionally at a bottle of Grappa.

"What about swimming?" Alessandro asked. "The Cascine park has opened again and the pool is heated."

"I don't have any swimming clothes with me", Luca said shocked. And anyway, he didn't want to undress in front of this good looking guy. He caught a look from aside. "You don't have to be shy, we can borrow them", Alessandro said.

"But it's not warm enough to swim."

Alessandro rolled his eyes. "Then suggest another thing."

Luca sighed. "What do you do usually with your friends? Just hanging out and riding the bikes?"

"For instance."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Alessandro stopped and leaned his forearms upon the red-stony balustrade and looked down to the river. It shimmered milky green. "Why do you insist of me having a girlfriend? Because that's what the people say?"

Luca copied his composure, leaning over the balustrade. "I just thought..."

"I have a reputation to act as the people like to see me act. Sure there were girls."

Luca swallowed. "And why... what has it to do with me then?"

"With the things we did at the cemetery?"

Luca nodded.

"Nothing."

"Right. But what are you then? You can't switch between boys and girls. You must decide."

Alessandro's eyes were dangerously dark-blue. "I do what I like" he said, his standard- sentence. "It isn't such a difference. When did you notice that you're keen on cocks?"

Luca flinched at the words.

"I suppose your family doesn't know, right?"

Luca bent his head.

"When will you tell them?"

"Don't know. It's too early. It's difficult. I don't know what they will say." He took a deep breath. "Last Sunday they talked about boys like you, and ... and about you being a faggot, and about Luciano..."

Alessandro turned his body towards him. "Luciano, the whore known all over town, who goes with everybody that has two eggs, right? Do they know more people like him? No. They identify a faggot with a horny swine that gropes everything, including little boys."

"And you ask me why I don't tell my parents?" Luca asked accusingly. Alessandro said nothing and Luca took it as silent agreement.

"Our hometown was built by homosexual faggots", Alessandro spat out finally. "Each palazzo, each cathedral, each church and each sculpture. And does it look like a wimpy town? No. I've never seen such a clear, upright, dark and manly town. The rest is cliché."

Luca wondered about his words. They sounded so mature that he didn't know what to answer.

"That's the reason you're interested in all this?"

"Part of, yes. Come now." Alessandro pulled Luca with him , aimlessly through the town, that was filled with the deep and clear sounds of the churches' bells, calling the people to Mass. They had a lunch at a tavola selva, a self-service restaurant near the cathedral, and Alessandro paid for him, accepting no objections. "It's your birthday today. Don't you have the intention to spend it with your friends?"

"Friends? Well, yes. Actually."

"Would you mind if I'd come with you?"

For the second time today Luca was put out. Here was the hero of the Florentine youth asking him, Luca Montori, to join his celebration with his friends?

Alessandro must have sensed Luca's confusion, so he said, "Sorry, it was a stupid question. Go and we'll meet again in the evening, alright?"

"Where?"

"Right here. I'm looking forward to it."

Luca examined the face before him. The expression was serious enough for him to believe him though a little voice in his head told him not to be too hopeful. He still longed to be kissed by his lips, to feel his tongue caressing his own, not to mention the things Alessandro did to him the day they had met. He felt a surging feeling welling up in his abdomen. Alessandro's eyes were promising, but Luca rose and left the restaurant, looking back to a waving Alessandro.

* * * * *

The Tabasco Bar was the oldest gay disco bar in the whole of Italy and no girls were allowed, and the irony was that this lascivious and naughty place was just a few steps away from the Piazza Signoria, where yet straights, local and tourists were gathering, but just didn't know about this. Alessandro guided Luca there and even he didn't know that the Tabasco was a gay pub only, thus he looked around astonished, glad that he had dressed in his brand new tight fitting shirt and matching trousers. "Was it difficult to slip away?" Alessandro asked next to him while Luca was still standing, watching the neon and chrome accents and the stunning reflective, metallic ceiling, festooned with phallic light bulbs jutting out.

The dance floor was empty and just a few guys was standing at the bar, clutching their drinks, trying to look as cool as they could.

"Actually no. I said I was meeting with my friends again."

"How was it?" Alessandro asked automatically, guiding his steps to the bar and ordering two Cinzanos.

"Ok."

The bartender winked at him, then at Alessandro. "Picked up fresh meat, eh, Sandro? The darkroom's empty." A salacious grin played around his thin lips.

"Darkroom?" asked Luca when the bartender served another customer.

"Heavens, you know nothing, do you," Alessandro asked amused. "That's where you and me could go to do whatever you dream of."

Luca blushed and bent his head over the Cinzano- glass. The ice cubes clinked and he sucked at the lemon-slice. "Is it really pitch dark in there?"

Alessandro nodded and Luca wondered how many times he had used it with other guys. "Been there?"

"Sure."

That moment Madonna started to roar up and filled the room with ear deafening music. Luca flinched but held his composure. As if they had waited for that cue the dance floor started to fill up and Luca stared at the writhing bodies where everybody thought he was a starlet, ready to be discovered by Giorgio Armani.

After he had finished his glass Luca asked boldly "You want to go there with me?"

"Huh?" Alessandro couldn't turn his eyes off the dancing, male bodies.

"To the dark room."

Finally Alessandro turned fully at him and examined Luca's innocent face. "If you like?" he raised an eyebrow suggestively, then he said, "No, you won't. The first time you should see it with your eyes." He paused. "It would be your first time, wouldn't it?" He saw Luca's face and got suddenly weak knees - a thing that hadn't happened in a long, long time for him.

* * * * *

Cool air wafted through the open loggia in Alessandro's room.

"You can stay over-night."

Alessandro went to the refrigerator standing in a corner, and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Like one?"

Actually Luca didn't. He'd had enough of the two Cinzano he'd had to drink and felt a little dizzy. But Alessandro opened the bottle and poured two glasses. "Salute", he said, raising his glass and Luca did the same. "To the night."

Luca just sipped and put the glass aside. "And where's my promised surprise?" he asked.

Alessandro looked confused. "I thought the Tabasco Bar was surprise enough?" He let himself fall upon an old-looking chaise-longe that was draped with a red cloth with fringes. Luca was still sitting in the matching arm-chair. Alessandro's room was huge and filled the complete upper floor of the Lizard-tower, Alessandro's home palazzo. Luca detected old, faint frescos near the high ceiling but couldn't recognize what they should show. An odd looking fireplace covered one wall, with an arcane roof, the other walls were covered by framed paintings and drawings of naked men - works of art. Luca detected the Davids from Michelangelo and Donatello, views of tight buttocks of all kinds, except they were all male.

In another corner hidden by a now pulled back curtain was Alessandro's bed.

"You like it?" Alessandro asked.

Luca asked himself with pounding heart why Alessandro didn't start. Neither he had kissed him nor did any kind of thing that Luca was waiting for. He took his glass and emptied it in one rush. Then he stood up, came over to Alessandro and sat beside him. "Why am I here?" he asked in a low voice. "Is there nobody else here in this large house?"

"Just my mother and she will be dazed from absinthe already."

"Absinthe? I thought that's forbidden?"

"Not anymore. Since they reduced the poison in it, it's not that dangerous anymore. But Madame has her connections and she knows secret places where the old recipe is still made. I'm sure sooner or later I can visit her in the loony house."

Luca was taken aback. How could he talk like this. "Don't you like her?" he asked, stretching out his hand furtively to stroke over Alessandro's chest.

"No. But let's not talk about this tonight." Alessandro pulled his shirt over his head.

Luca started to sweat when he started to undress himself. It was dark and so he was on the save side he thought, but Alessandro was watching him closely until he started to grin. "Luca, baby, let's get rid off that and hurry up. I told you last time you're looking fine."

Luca froze in his movement of pulling off his socks. "I thought you meant him." He pointed to his open zipper where a patch of snow white underwear gleamed in the darkness.

"This especially", Alessandro said, bending over to let his hand sink into the slit of Luca's pants. "Oh", escaped from Luca when the warmth of Alessandro's fingers met the heat of his awakening member. Alessandro played for a minute until the pants was soaked from excitement. Then he pulled Luca up, and hobbled with him over to the bed, stumbling over shoes and falling jeans.

Luca stroked Alessandro's naked, smooth chest, over the flat stomach and shoved Alessandro's legs up upon the bed.

With his face, bent over the erect, long cock, he remained in his position, crouched over Alessandro's legs, he took it all in. His first penis, and what was he to do with that now? He watched the red head, peaking out from the foreskin, the crystal drops building at the slit, showing Alessandro's excitement, the soft curve of pulsating, silky skin that covered a hard pole. Cautiously he lowered his head and started to lick until he absorbed himself totally into this lovely task, and he heard no more and was just feeling. He hadn't known of the intoxicating smell, how Alessandro's soft balls slapped his cheeks when he kissed them, until Alessandro was a wriggling bundle under his hands. "Fuck me", he groaned, reached out and tossed Luca a wrapped condom.

Luca froze. He had expected Alessandro to fuck him. He panicked. He didn't know what to do. Sandro lifted his head "You haven't done it before, huh?"

"Of course not."

Alessandro's head fell back. "Just shove it in." Alessandro was too horny to give lessons. Impatiently he took the condom, ripped it open and rolled the moist rubber over Luca's penis. He didn't bother with lube. Then he straddled Luca, and let his pole slowly enter him. Luca lay on his back and felt very strange. Somehow it was wrong. He saw the pain in Alessandro's face and didn't understand his self-violence as he was riding Luca frantically. But after a while Luca didn't worry anymore, but surrendered to the sight of Alessandro's hand engulfing his own cock while he rode Lucas' and brought himself close to explosion with each stroke. It didn't last long until both reached their peaks and Alessandro freed himself, dropped the condom to the ground, and stretched out beside Luca. He murmured something, gave him a kiss and fell asleep.

Despite all this Luca remained unsatisfied. Sleepless he lay beside Alessandro and listened to his steady breath. In the middle of the night he got up and stood in the loggia. A soft breeze cooled his face and body. He sat into the wicker chair and stared at the cupola of the cathedral, bathing in the moonlight.

This was it? Just this? And for those few minutes he should fight so hard, betray his family and friends pretend that he was another, or, that he was exactly the same as his friends, trying to bed the chicks to find out it wasn't worth it at all? He could do better with his hand because he then had the imagination of a friendly, loving, tender hand.

Suddenly he remembered Alessandro's words when he was asked what he wanted from Luca: 'sex' had been the answer. Only sex and nothing more and he got it.

Disappointed he tiptoed back to the sleeping Alessandro, stood a while next to the bed and watched. This was his first man, but to be honest, Alessandro had used him for own satisfaction and didn't care one bit about Luca's. Probably he thought that what he did was enough. He didn't even kiss him the way he had heard of - and partly experienced too, there at the cemetery.

But then his eyes caught the beauty of Alessandro's body, laying limp and relaxed under the light bedcover. His velvety skin had a light tan from the first sunshine; parts were darker such as his face, under arms and neck, the rest was lighter. He looked so innocent while sleeping, that Luca thought to see an almost different young man; the cocky look from his blue eyes hidden behind closed lids, the mouth, relaxed and the lips a little parted. Somehow the nose gave his face a matured touch - relentless perhaps; a family heirloom. His father had had the same, like the mayor had and the brother he had met in the church.

But Sandro was a loner, despite all of his buddies; Luca didn't want to call them friends. They had fun together, no more. Mindless fun, as an adolescence had all the right to have. And Luca? He was at the football match with his friends this afternoon - AC Firenze versus Lazio Roma - the tickets had been a gift from his brothers, not knowing that Luca wasn't the least interested in football, but in the naked, muscular legs and butts of the player.

He had almost given in and had slipped under the sheets next to Alessandro, to feel his body close to him again. He had never shared a bed with another. He was unfamiliar to another's breath, the movements of the bed and Alessandro's sudden closeness had scared him more than it had pleased him.

Instead he looked for his clothes and put them on silently. He was startled by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?" Alessandro said with husky, sleep drunken voice. "I said you can stay overnight."

Luca turned so abruptly that Alessandro's hand fell from his shoulder. "You think I could stay away all night long? Father would lock me up."

Alessandro looked unsure as whether to laugh or not. "Lock you up? For what reason?"

Luca sighed and shook his head. Must have been due to Sandro's sleepiness that he didn't understand. "I've never been away for a whole night. Mother will think me in hospital."

Alessandro said nothing, he was just staring. Luca sensed the warmth his naked body radiated, and had the urge to hold him tight. He wanted to press his body into the other, wanted to being held and comforted.

"You didn't like it", Alessandro said softly.

"What didn't I like?"

"Sex with me."

Luca turned away caught.

"No, look at me", Alessandro said quickly, again putting his hand upon Luca's shoulder. "You aren't of age, I do understand that your parents will be afraid. On the other hand, since when do Italian parents bother with their kids going early to bed, hm?"

There was the faint hint of a smile in his eyes. Eyes, big and gleaming black in the darkness of the room. "If you want, I'll take you home."

"You don't have to, it's not that far away." Why was it so difficult to speak? he thought. And why couldn't he answer Sandro's question. Did he like the sex with him, or not?

"Perhaps you expected a turn, I mean, you wanted to be fucked?" Alessandro suggestively raised an eyebrow and Luca blushed. He was thankful that it was dark in the large room.

Alessandro lifted his chin to look him in the eyes. "Did you?"

Slowly Luca shook his head. "I... just wanted to be close to you." From the distance he heard the bell tower chiming the second hour. What the hell... he would be late anyway, so it didn't matter if he stood here for another hour. He didn't protest when Alessandro undressed him again, this time carefully and without any attempt to arouse him sexually. Then he took his hand, pulled back the bed cover and pushed him gently between them. "Do you think I'm a sex maniac?" Alessandro grinned. "I am." He stretched out beside Luca. "But I do have another side, you know."

Luca lay still and wondered if Sandro was putting on the attitude of the stud about town, hiding his soft side. A macho, he thought. A gay macho. He felt Sandro's hands upon his body, stroking his cheeks, his neck and his arm. "I didn't want to make it bad for you. Your first night I mean. You just turned me on."

"It wasn't so bad", Luca managed to say. He gradually relaxed under the strokes. Thinking of it, it wasn't bad at all. He couldn't compare how it should be, considering he had no experiences. But what now?

"You'll be going to Fiesole?" Luca asked.

"No, of course not. Mamma is going alone, like she always did. My bro..." he closed his mouth and fell back between the sheets. He forbade himself to think about that, like he had done in all the years past.

"Your... what?"

"Nothing. I'll stay here until I'm off for Pisa. And, as I said, we can have a lot of fun until then." He peered into Luca's face. "Don't you think?"

"And what then? You have your fun and go away." He remembered Giano suddenly. "My brother is going to Pisa as well, but later."

"You said that before. How many brothers do you have?"

"Three. No sister."

"And he will study medicine if I remember right."

"Yes, Giano."

"Giano Montori." Alessandro pondered loudly. He surely remembered Giano Montori. The guy with the blond mop of hair like Luca. Standing in the darkest corner of the bars, where nobody could see him, but he could watch the action from aside, without having to participate. A sly grin played around Alessandro's mouth. He bet that Luca didn't know that. He bent over. "You're much too serious for your age, amore. Why do you bother what happens when I'm away? I never promise. So, if you would rather leave and search for someone you can live happily ever after with, I won't stop you. But one thing be assured: you won't find him. It's just fun. Sex."

Luca swallowed. He knew that Sandro was right. Man was promiscuity, wanting to shed his semen into all four cardinal points and never cares afterwards. That's all. No, he didn't believe that seriously. What about his father then? Did he have other women for a change? And why was Sandro's conception of youth wrong? Luca closed his eyes. It wasn't wrong for sure. If he just could overcome his reluctance and be as Sandro was...

"Why don't you let me show you how good it can be?"

Sandro's words pierced his ears. He wished above all things in the world to be loved, but he was scared as well.

Alessandro was still staring. Then he scrambled over Luca's body and stepped out of the bed. He crossed the large room to its other side; his naked butt gleaming stark white. Luca couldn't suppress a smile. He adored Alessandro's straight, long legs and the confidence with which he walked in all his nudity. He didn't suffer any inferiority feelings.

He watched how Alessandro opened a drawer of a beautiful chest of drawers. Florentine intarsia, he recognized with narrowed eyes. Old. Very old. Then Alessandro returned with a linen cloth-covered book.

When he pulled back the cloth, Luca gasped. "I found it in a secret layer beneath the drawer. There's a knob you have to press and the bottom vanishes, revealing another shelf."

Alessandro hesitated. Why was he telling Luca this? He had never shared this secret with anybody. He briefly shrugged his shoulders and sat upon the edge of the bed, next to Luca. "It's a diary." He turned the first, brittle page. Luca detected a fine handwriting, flourished, almost impossible to read. The paper was a sort of a parchment, stained with dark brown blotches and an odd smell came from it. "The oldest inscription belongs to 1429", he said.

Luca looked up. "And what is it? Who has written this?"

"You remember the day at the Novella-church? The fresco I showed you, made by Masaccio?"

Luca nodded excitedly and rose to a sitting position.

"It's not his, but of his master Masolino."

Luca had heard this name before, but couldn't remember who he was. Masaccio - Masolino ... those names were easy to mistake.

"This chest is really ancient, you know. The intarsia were made by the workshop you'll soon be attached to, but many years afterwards. Nobody found the secret drawer though. At least I guess no."

Then it wouldn't had been here anymore, Luca completed the sentence in his mind. "And what is the interesting part of it, besides that it is ancient?"

"That it is incomplete. The last pages are missing. He didn't finish it, which is a pity because it stops at the most interesting part."

Luca looked down again and tried to decipher the handwriting. Alessandro turned on a little lamp standing on a small nightstand. Then he started to read out loud:

"Budapest, Gennaro 1429

His name was Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Simone Guidi di Monte Cassai and he was descended from an old family of carpenters - cabinet- and chests makers. Even as child he had been bigger and stouter and stronger than other children - the opposite of me. His younger brother called him, deprecatingly, Masaccio: the big Thomas, the colossus.

He came into my workshop there in the town of San Giovanni Alt'ura in the fruitful ground of Tuscany. He came and I was lost. One look into his fiery, black eyes and I was ablaze. Although the love between two men in the Republic of Tuscany was not scorned, the eye of the priest was omnipresent and the people easy to be influenced.

I could have been his father, but neither of us minded. He considered me as his mentor when I taught him to guide his paint brush, to use the pencil filled with the red powder from the Arabian town Sinope to transfer his cardboard to the bare walls.

He was sixteen when his wild mind wanted to break free from the claustrophobic conditions of our village. It was Firenze that called him, the town where Master Giotto had worked, the true explorer of the old art to paint a three-dimensional painting - height, width and depth - and I knew it was just a matter of time when my Tommaso would excel myself.

I had to follow him wherever he would go.

He arrived at Florence with his mother and brother in 1417 and settled down at the parish of San Niccolò Oltrarno, me on his heels. He entered my circle of painters and we continued our collaboration of equal to equal - not of master and pupil. Tommaso was exceptional. He improved my more modest style of painting by introducing me tothree dimensional techniques. He wanted more. He wanted everything. His brother had found a work in Bicci's workshop as odd job boy. I was scared of him. When my Tommaso was glowing with artistic fever - Giovanni was glowing from something unnatural I could not grasp. But I was as much aware of that as Tommaso was unaware of it."

Alessandro closed the book carefully and looked at Luca. "Masolino was a painter himself, but most of all we know his name for Masaccio - or Tommaso as he is named in this diary. It seems as if they did everything together." A spark appeared in his eyes. "You get the message?"

Luca was confused. "You mean they were more than pupil and master?"

"What more? Of course more. Masolino writes they were equal. They shared more than the workshop together."

"The bed?"

Alessandro nodded.

"That is written down here? You must give it to the museum, Sandro. It's most precious I'm sure."

Alessandro pressed the book to his naked chest as if to protect it. "It's mine. I found it." He looked into nowhere; out between the loggia's pillars, into the starred sky. Luca watched him curiously. "What do you suppose is missing in that diary?" he asked softly.

Alessandro didn't answer. He rose, crossed the room once more and hid the book in the secret drawer. He already regretted haven given his secret away. Perhaps it wasn't safe now anymore. But a look into Luca's innocent, somewhat glowing face, soothed him. Luca wouldn't take his fortune from him, would he.

He pushed Luca aside and lay beside him. Then, without a further word he started to kiss Luca's lips, made him moan until the pearly laughter of his appeared. Alessandro was not able to resist it. His body pressed upon Luca's, he slid and wriggled until their penises were aligned and enjoyed as well the growing excitement as Luca's gentle hands, stroked his back and buttocks. And Luca started to get happy about losing his shyness and fears. Nobody was going to hurt him.

_________________

 

6

__________________

In the early hours they returned to Luca's home; tightly embraced they walked through deserted streets. Just the early workers crossed their way as the rising sun met the multicoloured façade of San Miniato upon its hill among green trees on the other side of the river. The stark white marble gleamed like it was freshly washed, and so did the red porphyry and the green serpentine.

In the stony doorframe of Lucas' house they kissed good bye with the promise to meet again that afternoon.

Tired, but happy, Luca entered the staircase, careful to avoid any noise. He found a sleeping Giano upon his bed.

Luca shook him gently. "What are you doing here? Waiting for me?" Luca's heart suddenly beat faster.

Giano wiped his eyes and rose. "There you are! I told the parents you were with Rosso to celebrate." He looked his younger brother up and down. He couldn't miss his glowing cheeks and the different look in his eyes. Wary he said, "Where've you been then?"

"Out." Luca retorted saucily. "That's your excuse as well when the parents ask you where you have been."

"Don't mess with me, Luca Montori", Giano approached him, though half-laughing. "Got rid off your virginity?"

Luca blushed furiously. "You know I don't meet girls."

Giano's eyebrow rose but he said nothing. "Go to bed then, I'll excuse you from breakfast." He silently closed the door behind him. Sighing Luca stretched out upon his still warm bed while his eyelashes started to flutter in sleepiness. What a night. His first night with a man... The diary of Masolino... and ... his body jerked upright... the Lapis lazuli! He found the stone on the table beneath the window next to his other gifts, sitting amidst the colourful paper Alessandro had wrapped it with. It looked like an exotic flower, a pure dark blue, round with sharp edges now and then, bigger than his fist. Carefully he touched it with his fingertips, felt the cool, rough surface and wondered what he would do with it. So far he hadn't any idea how to work it, but he would learn soon. Perhaps the pieces that he had to cut off he would grind to fine powder; mixed with the white of an egg, glue and oil it would give a rich blue colour to paint with.

Happy he returned back to his bed and wondered what life had in stock for him.

He found out at noon, when the workshop was closed for a lunch and when he faced a sneering Dante just as he was about to leave the house. His brother pulled out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket, unfolded it very slowly and with a sly grin upon his face.

"Who on earth could have painted this? Eh?" He held the sheet in front of Luca's nose. Luca stepped back and recognized his drawing of Alessandro. Naked upper body. Erect cock peeping out from his trouser's slit. Luca's face drained. "Were you rummaging in my room?" he shouted angrily and tried to snatch the paper, but Dante escaped with a graceful movement, like a Torero with his red cloth in front of a bull. Suddenly he stepped very close and hissed

"What's this piece of faggot shit? Have you drawn it, or not?"

"Give it back!" Again Luca fought to get the drawing; in vain.

"My brother's a little queer, isn't he? Never had a girlfriend, just because his mouth drooled for the boy's asses." His facial expression changed. "I understand now, wow. That's the reason you're after this little fag of Lucertola. Want him to lay you, yes?"

Luca's eyes filled with tears. "Please, don't tell father. It... it was just a try... of a drawing.... to see if I still can."

"Rubbish. You'd rather draw big boobs then, than such a cock." He threw the drawing into Luca's face. "Our family was always clean. No obscenities, no perverts. Don't you dare to start with it."

A last glowering look, then he vanished into the kitchen. Luca ran out of the house and stood for a while upon the low steps that led to the small pavement. After some minutes he decided it wasn't worth to getting frightened about it. He couldn't understand Dante's homophobic aversion, but he didn't want it to spoil his time with Alessandro. Dante would calm down, probably take it as a joke. He was just a hothead.

Behind a group of Japanese tourists, hung with video- and photo-cameras, laden with bags and tourist's guides in their hands, the figure of Alessandro appeared. As always wearing a tight fitting shirt, whose long sleeves he had rolled up above his elbows. With his light blue jeans and white trainers he looked like a young Apollo. At least to Luca. Now, his eyes were wide open to the attraction of a male human, he recognized the signs. The walk, the proud angle of his head, the casual way Sandro had hung his jacket over one shoulder, held by his forefinger. The fiery look from his blue eyes, intensified by the tan of his face. Alessandro was the Prince of the town, the Prince of the Lilies, whatever that meant and for whatever reason the people called him that. Perhaps they sensed that there was no one like him.

He smiled openly at Luca, reached out and pulled him into an entrance made of heavy stone. Pietra serena. Pushing him against the stone and kissing him was one and Luca's body flashed with heat. His penis strained against the denim of his trousers when he felt Alessandro's tongue wrapping his own, caressing, searching. The soft pressure of his lips against Luca's was almost too much for him. He moaned loudly before he pushed Alessandro away. "Don't be mad, everybody can see us."

"So what", Alessandro licked his lips, "kisses aren't forbidden, are they?" He took Luca's hand and entered the street again. The Japanese were gone, but another tourist group marched along the riverquai, interchangeable like the one before, just chattering with a heavy, rough German language.

Alessandro sighed. "Tourist's season started again... That's the curse of living in a museum. You'll never have your home to yourself. Do you know when the last time I was at the Uffizi? I can't remember. It's always blocked by those pillocks."

"Hey", Luca objected. "If it wasn't so, our hometown would be broke. They bring in a lot of money."

"Yeah." Alessandro still had Luca's hand in his. Luca felt awkward. His eyes darted around to see if anybody could see it, but apparently nobody noticed. Or if, they didn't bother.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"What about Boboli? Since you have to pay fee I haven't been there too."

"Because you're so poor", Luca teased him. The Boboli-gardens stretched out on the other side of the Arno and were attached to the Palazzo Pitti, once the palace for the grand dukes of Tuscany. They had always been open to the public since they had existed, but when lately kids vandalized sculptures and plants, the government decided to charge entrance fee and engage guards.

They followed the slow walking groups of foreign visitors, lead by their guides, using umbrellas with funny pennants or artificial sunflowers raised high in the air, watched the beer bellied men or the middle aged ones in their sandals with black socks, Bermudas and sunhats. Luca shivered. It wasn't that warm and the sky was clouded. What would they do when they had to suffer a long, hot Florentine summer?

Alessandro grinned at him. Apparently he had the same idea. Slowly they passed the Uffizi-yard, the loggia and turned left to enter Ponte Vecchio; the shortest way leading to the Boboli-gardens. The jewel shops had just started to open, the owners pulled down the heavy wooden or iron gates, and presented their treasures. Gold, gold and gold once more, a treasure- chest for each tourist. But Luca and Alessandro passed without looking, anxious to be alone finally.

They balanced upon the small pavements with the traffic beside them; the Postal van, horse carriages, trucks with wine and groceries, taxies, even donkey carriages from the countryside with bags of grain. They passed maids with wicker's bags, lounging in front of the poultry shop touching dangling rabbits, until they reached the gigantic light brown facade of Palazzo Pitti, a tarred area in front of it. In summer it was almost impossible to cross it, because your feet would stick.

Alessandro paid the fee for both - unpleasant enough for Luca who could easily pay for himself, but Alessandro wouldn't hear any argument - they passed an open-air theatre, a fountain with a basin and an obelisk claming to have stood somewhere in Egypt. Alessandro told him that was the truth and the Roman emperors had brought it to Rome.

Luca rolled his eyes. "You really should join the tourist groups and demand payment, you know." he said half-laughing. "When will you stop instructing me, eh?"

"Hey, I just want your best", Alessandro answered, climbing the steep, long staircase reaching to the café house, a yellow building with a wide terrace full of tables and chairs attached.

"Thirsty, hungry?" Alessandro asked but Luca shook his head. His fingers were still intertwined with Alessandro's and they had already gained some stares. Not unfriendly, but curious. He didn't want to sit here but preferred to stroll through the park. The statue of the Abundanza, a large female figure with a cornucopia in her arms greeted the visitors, and this park was filled indeed with an abundance of shady trees, large, rolling parkways, little artificial lakes and lots of antique- trimmed statues of gods. Luca almost had forgotten the incident with his brother.

"Sandro?" he asked. "I haven't thanked you for the stone. I... I don't know why you've given it to me. It's really too much, and..."

Alessandro soothed him. "It's not too much. It was just laying in the house in a glass cabinet. Nobody cared for it, so why should it gather dust there when you would have use for it", he said, breathing in the cool, moist air under the trees. Nobody was here. The tourists were busy with their sightseeing, and the few locals were spread all over the place. From afar they heard children's laughter.

"But it is too expensive to give it away so easily, for sure", Luca insisted. Alessandro stopped in the middle of the walkway and pulled Luca to his chest. He pressed his lips upon Luca's and he - who was glad that his erection had subsided - started to get another. He felt intoxicated by closeness, by warmth and taste. He loved Alessandro's smell, a scent coming from his clothes, fresh like a baby, clean and innocent. Everything that Alessandro actually was not. When they heard footsteps on the crunchy gravel they broke the kiss, parted and started to walk on. Luca didn't know what to say. Would it be always like this?

Imperceptibly the sky had clouded over and it didn't last long before the first tiny drops of rain started to fall. Neither was bothered, but then the drops became thicker and both searched for shelter. Alessandro spread out his jacket over their heads. "Come", he said and started to run down the hills, along a labyrinth of box trees until he reached the entrance to a grotto that was closed with red-white striped plastic tape. "No entrance" it read, but Alessandro stepped over and Luca followed. He knew they were in what was called the Grottos of Buontalenti, the man who had built them for the pleasure of Duke Cosimo several hundred years ago, but since they were not used, the town fathers had closed them.

Artificial stalagmites hung from the moist ceiling. A stuffy, musty smell came from the cave behind it. Nonetheless Luca followed excited, passing odd looking faces of stone, chiselled from the walls. Faces with open mouths and wild, matted hair, eyes torn open in shock.

"Michelangelo's slaves were placed here", he heard Alessandro whisper, "to the amusement of the noble people. The slaves were half-finished figures, peeling themselves out of the stone. Slaves to the material, so to say."

Luca was for the first time thankful for Alessandro's explanations, for he felt a little shiver. It was gloomy in here, and both were soaked from the rain. Their bodies steamed.

"There must be a lake somewhere."

Alessandro stopped and turned. Then he pushed Luca against the stone and grinned. "Nobody will find us here, don't you think?" While he said this, he unbuttoned Luca's shirt and pulled it out from his waistband, unzipping his jeans and let them slide over Luca's hips. His fingers found and massaged Luca's erection, before he fell to his knees and continued the massage with his mouth. Luca groaned, his head pushed back, his arms searching for support. Again he felt he needed to lay down because his legs wouldn't hold him upright any longer, but Alessandro's palms were clasped around his buttocks, holding him steady. A few sucks and Alessandro got the prize, careful, that Luca didn't fall down. "The more often you do this, the longer you can hold out", he mumbled then, wiping his mouth and coming to his feet.

"Was that a complaint?" Luca said panting.

"Sort of. Why not start having a lot of practice? Right now." Alessandro’s eyes gleamed in the shadows.

"Here?" Luca asked a bit shocked. He couldn't imagine lying down here on the stony, wet earth.

"At home of course. Will you?" Alessandro’s voice sounded eager.

Luca had to admit that he would do everything Alessandro wanted him to do. He pulled up his jeans and stuffed the moist shirt into the waistband and both looked to see if the rain had subsided. It had, all that was left was a drizzle.

"Were you caught this morning?" Alessandro asked when they exited the park.

"Yes, by Giano. He was waiting for me but backed me up."

"Ah. Good boy. You both get along well?"

"Yes."

Alessandro nodded. He didn't know what Giano was doing in the gay bars, but he thought he knew the answer. But he was sure that Luca hadn't the slightest idea about that. He wondered if Giano was still a virgin as Luca was.

The street pavement was wet and slippery; the tourists had vanished like at a secret sign, waiting for the rain to stop in several restaurants and bars on the way to Alessandro's home palazzo. A stony coat of arms hung over the entrance. A decorative lily and a lizard. The thick rustica ashlars of Pietra Serena looked very unfriendly. Rusted rings for torches and to bind horses were attached, and some small stony benches inserted into the walls, made for ancient visitors. "What were your ancestors actually?" Luca asked while Alessandro pushed him through the gate. On the other side they reached a square yard with graceful grey-white pillars connecting the walls, carrying the second floor that was built as open balcony. Window boxes were placed all over, red and white geraniums and in the middle of the yard grew a palm, thin and a bit sad. At the side wall was parked Alessandro's Ferrari next to his motorbike.

"Did you know that Leonardo was guest here during his stay at Florence?"

"Really?"

"Really. He painted "Mona Lisa" here. My ancestors gained their wealth in the 15th century when they were contemporaries of Lorenzo de'Medici. Lorenzo il Magnifico, if that tells you something. We were merchants of silk and we had ships at Pisa's harbour. Didn't I tell you this before? In 1406 Florence had conquered Pisa and thus the sea harbour, and then our hometown had unrestrained access to the oceans directly from the mouth of the Arno."

Luca stood and pondered. "My ancestors were contemporaries of Lorenzo too. But we were dyers, delivering the court with clothes."

"Really?"

"Really."

"So we do have something in common, haven't we."

Alessandro led the way to a side entrance, then upstairs, directly to his large room under the flat roof. Again Luca was overwhelmed by the large size. He detected a coffered ceiling he hadn't noticed the night before. A fire was slowly crackling in the fireplace and the windows, leading to the loggia were considerately closed. "Good old Anastasia", Alessandro said. "That's our housekeeper. The only person that has some sense here."

"She lit the fire?" Luca asked.

"Yes. She does everything I'm too lazy for. What WE are too lazy for", he corrected himself.

"Aren't you sad that your father isn't alive anymore?" Luca asked a question he had had in his mind for along time.

Alessandro turned surprised. "Sad? Why should I be sad? Sure, he was my father, but..." He shook his head and vanished through a door. He came back with fluffy towels, tossed Luca one of them and started to rub his wet hair. Luca did the same, watching Alessandro. His hair, tousled as it was, curled up into lovely, brown locks, now without the reddish highlights of the sun, but lovely enough to eat. They fell over his ears onto his neck, stressing the tenderness of the skin. Luca got weak knees. How could he resist such a beauty? But, why should he? Alessandro for sure didn't want him to resist.

"My father was the emperor of the house Gondi-Lucertola. Our coat of arms you've noticed is a mixture of the loyalty to the house of the Medici - thus the lily - and the name of the other side of our family, the Lucertolas. I know, it's an odd name. Probably one of them was a gardner, fond of lizards, I don't know."

"The lily..." Luca started, hanging the towel around his neck, "isn't it a French sign?"

"It is. Florence was friends with France - King Francis I and his followers - and the king allowed them to carry the lily in the town's coat of arms. That was long after Lorenzo de' Medici though. You remember certainly that Maria and Catherine de’ Medici were both Queen of France."

"And since your family was loyal to the Medici-family, you could take it over, right?"

"Right." Alessandro started to undress in front of him. Unconcerned of another human's presence he stripped down to his underwear - sexy black pants, as Luca noticed - and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pulled them down, stepped out of them and crossed the room to his wardrobe. He tossed Luca dry, clean clothes. "What you're waiting for? You'll get a cold." He changed his clothes, not looking at Luca. "I'll get us something to eat", he announced then and left the room. Luca heard him on the staircase.

Slowly and confused he started to undress himself, made a neat heap from his wet clothes and stepped into Alessandro's, enjoying the clean baby-scent oozing from them. They fit as if they were made for him.

Not knowing what to do he looked around and examined the room. Dark blue curtains hung from the small windows, leading to the open loggia, reaching to the floor, held aside by heavy, bronzed fixtures, depicting faces with open mouths and eyes, reminding him at the ugly faces Luca had seen in the grotto. A complete wall was covered by hand-made book shelves, protected with glass doors. Silver candelabras decorated low chests, and all sort of boxes with locks, looking as if they were made from Florentine Art too, like the heavy chest Sandro had taken Masolino's diary from. A thick carpet covered the parquet floor; the bed was hidden with a pulled down curtain too, that matched the blue colour of the window curtains.

Luca felt good in these surrounding. He stepped up to the fireside and stirred the embers, like he did always at home. These palazzi were good for a sweltering heat outside, but in winter they were cold. Amused he thought that the tourists would freeze their asses off in the cool spring rain today.

It didn't take long before Alessandro returned with a plate, laden with tramezzini, Italian sandwiches, filled with tomatoes and cheese, chicken and tuna, salami and pepperoni. He pulled a bottle of white wine out of his fridge and opened it. Luca felt suddenly very hungry. He took the glass, emptied it and eat heartily. "You were starving, eh?" said Alessandro, biting into his tramezzino as well.

"Nothing for breakfast, I slept too long."

"Like myself."

They sat around a small table, looking out of the windows. The clouds hung low, short over the top of the cathedral's cupola and Giotto's clock tower beside. The hills of Fiesole had vanished behind a gloomy curtain of drizzling rain. The pieces of wood cracked in the fireplace.. There was dead silence in the house.

"You hated your father?" Luca asked quietly.

Alessandro swallowed the rest of his bread and washed it away with wine. "I wouldn't say hate. It was more. I despised him."

"Why?" Luca was startled. Why should anybody despise his father?

Alessandro shook his head. He stood up, went over to a small chest, opened the doors wide apart and revealed a stereo. He pressed some buttons and low music sounded. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Not even with me?"

"Especially not with you." Alessandro rose. "Don't get me wrong, Luca. I'm not sharing my secrets."

"But you shared the diary with me."

"Yeah." Alessandro nodded. "But family is family."

"Has it to do with your mother? Because she is drinking?" Absinthe, as Luca remembered.

"No." Alessandro's voice was sharp. "It hasn't to do with mother." He stood for a while, then he refilled his glass and Luca's. "Come, let's not talk about old family matters. Have you decided what to do with your stone?" He lifted Luca from his chair, placed the glass in his hand and forced Luca to drink. It tasted delicious, light and fruity, and Luca drank more than was good for him.

"My uncle has a villa in the surrounding area that he rents to foreigners. Right now a family from Denmark resides there over the summer. They care for the vineyard and the olive trees. That's where the wine comes from. Our house trademark so to speak."

"Your uncle we met at the church? He wasn't very friendly to you. Do you despise him too?" Luca asked, bold from the drunken wine.

Alessandro laughed. "Clever boy. You think I'm the brat of the family, living off their richness, snottily despising every member of it, right?" He placed his glass back upon the table. "You're right, amore."

It was getting darker and Alessandro's body became nothing more than a shadow in the room as he stepped closer and took the glass from Luca. Luca was starting to lose his mind again when he felt Alessandro's lips. He felt himself being undressed once more. Giggling he thought that it must be Sandro's profession to undress other people, but he didn't stop him and was having a go at Alessandro's clothes too. Soon the fire was the only light in the room. The curtains of the bed were pulled back, revealing a made bed with a soft, handmade patchwork cover. Anastasia, Luca thought while he was pushed between the sheets, surrendering to experienced hands, that aroused him so much that after a while he didn't know anymore where he was, who he was and what was the reason he was here.

Alessandro showed him, pulling him over his own body, opened the crack between his buttocks, and sliding his fingers between them, circling around the hole Luca still had had just one use for. It wasn't so difficult for him anymore to give Alessandro the same pleasure he gave to Luca himself. Once he got used to Alessandro's length he could take it into his mouth, enjoying each centimetre of it. He enjoyed the clear fluid, he enjoyed the hot shooting juice and laughed. Alessandro joined in his pearly laughter.

He didn't object when he was turned over on to his belly, and yelped when he sensed biting kisses on his butt cheeks, then a tongue that started to enter his private entrance, but his hands grasped the sheets in a never experienced ecstasy.

And then he learnt, why Alessandro had been so keen on something to stick between his legs, when he felt invaded by careful, knowing fingers, a cooling fluid being smeared and he was ready and prepared. "Push back, amore", Alessandro whispered behind him, holding his hips steady from behind, playing with Luca's erect penis to keep his arousal, and to make it easier. Luca pushed, but the stinging pain was hard. Harder than he thought to bear, but soon it was over, due to the greasiness around Alessandro's condom covered tool, and his penis - limp from the pain - started to rise again.

"You see what it means?" Alessandro still whispered, moving gently in and out. Luca's mind exploded when Alessandro found the right spot deep within him. He felt the long curve of the penis, breaching his sphincter, grazing his bowels, rubbing his prostate, while Sandro's fingers caressed Luca's balls, slapping with each movement against his thighs and he started to love it. Indistinctly he urged Alessandro to move deeper, quicker, faster and Sandro did him the favour, although he had rather prolonged the pleasure. Had it been so good for him his first time? Certainly not. All he had felt was a great pain, nothing more.

Luca fell down onto his belly, pulling Alessandro with him. Luca's legs were shaking; he could feel it. Sweat had coloured the hair on his neck a dark blond. "Don't go away", Luca whispered. One upon the other they fell asleep together.

Darkness. A faint gleaming of fire in the distance. A scent of shared love. Luca pressed his nose between the pillows and tried to remember where he was. The sting in his arse reminded him. Alessandro was still behind him, his penis stuck between Luca's legs. Still in him, Luca thought and tried to explore his feelings. He had slept with a man. With a skilful and experienced man, though Alessandro was hardly one year older. He tried to move, causing Alessandro to stir. He loved the size of the shrivelled cock in his hole but he also felt Sandro move it out, holding the condom's rim. Sleepily he threw it under the bed. Luca rolled his eyes inwardly. How many condoms must have been lying there, for Anastasia to find them? He turned to face Alessandro who had his eyes closed, a content smile around his lips. "How many?" he asked.

Alessandro opened his eyes. "How many what?"

"Condoms? Men?"

Alessandro pulled a face and wiped his eyes. "I'm a slut, amore, but not that much of a slut to gather used condoms under my bed." He suddenly grinned and showered Luca's mouth with kisses. "You're right, I should buy a trash can. From now on the amount of those things will rise!" He started to tickle Luca who squeaked and tried to shove Alessandro off his body. "You liked it?"

"No. I loved it."

"Good. Then it's your turn. Amore."

Amore. Luca tasted the sound of that word in his mouth. It tasted like pure joy. He was lying naked in his bed and straightened out the crumbled drawing of Alessandro. Actually he hadn't been that exaggerated with Sandro's length of his private parts... he giggled to himself. He clenched his butt cheeks and felt the little sting. A pleasant pain though. Just the mere thought of all the things they did made him hard again. Lazily he stroked himself. What would Dante have said had he seen that? he suddenly thought. Dante would never feel like this. Dante would never have such good sex. Complacently Luca encircled the head of his penis and started to rub the length of it until he came. He had to practise to delay. A pearly laughter escaped his throat. Each day practice, was his last thought before he fell asleep.

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7

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"Those present may take their seats." The stern, old fashioned looking notary took his glasses and placed them upon his nose. His watery eyes, over the heavy lachrymal sacs, examined the row of people sitting in front of him, while he took the sheets of paper. Valentina di Gondi-Lucertola, the widow, clothed in black silk. The lace from her black Florentine hat covered her face. Arrigo di Gondi-Lucertola, brother of the dead Matteo, was sitting next to her. A heavy, stout figure with mahogany hair, like his nephew Alessandro, sat indifferently, with arms folded across his chest. Florentine's mayor and his wife, another brother of Matteo, self-restrained as ever, just his sharp bent nose, the family trait, twitched nervously from time to time. Anastasia, family jewel for more than twenty years, occasionally wiped her eyes.

"We come together to witness the testament of the late Matteo di Gondi-Lucertola. Let us start." He cleared his throat and began to read out.

"I, Matteo di Ser Federico di Gondi-Lucertola, in possession of all my mental and physical powers, declare my last will. The palazzo Gondi-Lucertola, Firenze, goes into the sole possession of my beloved wife, Valentina di Gondi-Lucertola, as well as our house at Fiesole. In addition I bequeath to her 100,000 Euro each year as steady income.

"Anastasia Foggi will be bequeathed 100,000 Euros for her long time service in the favour of our house."

The notary stopped to dart a glance at the audience. He met only unmoving faces, except for Anastasia, who looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, filled with tears. He continued.

"My son Alessandro di Ser Matteo di Gondi-Lucertola gets the lifelong right to live in our Palazzo. The monthly income of 2,000 Euros are still to be provided for his livelihood. Further my money as it is held in shares and cash are bequeathed to him, but is held on one condition."

Alessandro turned his eyes surprised. He hadn't expected a cent of money. He was curious to hear the condition.

"Before my son gains the year of twenty-one he has to be married, and delivered of a male heir for our estate. Since he is the last offspring of our old, honourable family, the line must be continued. If he does not succeed, all money goes to the Dominican church of Santa Maria Novella, Florence, to care for the poor."

The notary took off his glasses and stared at Alessandro who stared stunned back. He hadn't expected money, and under these circumstances he didn't want any of it. The church could do what they wanted with that. He felt everyone's eyes on him. Waiting. Lurking.

"Alessandro, your father's wealth is about twenty million Euros. I am sure you'd like to keep that in your family."

Alessandro slid on his chair. Twenty million Euros? He had never been interested in the family's wealth, but this sum was exorbitant. He had known that there was money, but not in this extreme abundance. What could he do with that? Ten lives wouldn't be enough to spend it. And the church? What could, what would they do with it? Care for the poor? Build hospitals? Spend it for research? For the fight of diseases? Or decorate their order? The prior of Santa Maria Novella would be ordered to Rome when he could bring such a fat piece of prey...

Then he swallowed hard. That would mean... he had to father a kid? How? And why? How ridiculous. His thoughts raced while everyone was still staring at him from all sides. Ideas of artificial insemination crossed his mind. He could do this. He could... yes, that was the only thing he could do. There was no way he would marry and fuck a girl.

At the same moment Luca's face appeared. How much fun they had. Have. Could have.

"Will you accept?" the notary was asking him. Alessandro heard it behind a thick cloud of thoughts. "You do not have to decide now. But if you accept, you are bound to all conditions."

Alessandro nodded slowly. "I need time to think it over, please."

"Good. Within a week we will meet here again to hear Alessandro's decision."

The notary rose from his chair and shook the hands of all. Then he took Alessandro aside and handed him an envelope. "This is for you. Your father handed it personally to me, shortly before his death."

Awkward silence. The rest of his family had gathered on the floor, whispering and glancing occasionally at Alessandro, leaning against the wall beside the group, reading his father's letter.

"Alessandro,

when you read this you will have heard my last will. You will find it very odd. But what did you think will happen? I decided to add this stipulation concerning you, when I felt my time was coming. My heart is weak and you did not do anything to help me improve my state of health.

You are the last one carrying our name. Our family is weak to the final shoot. Washed-out by centuries. And perverted. You know what I mean by this. But our family has not survived to perish in shame and disgrace. It must be carried on.

If you go and search for a woman that breeds children, be careful. Arrigo will watch you. It is YOU and only you who will carry on the family's name. It might be, that you will gain pleasure in this.

Matteo di Gondi-Lucertola"

Alessandro gave a helpless snort of disapproval. His father couldn't even bring himself to sign himself 'father'.

He folded the letter and fanned himself with it. He knew he was being watched. Everybody was waiting for his decision. And if he going to throw it into the wind, he would have the scorn of his family for all time. His uncles would end up with nothing. No doubt it was on him to save the Gondi- fortune. He wouldn't have a single silent minute again. "You must not give away twenty millions of the hard-earned money of the family. Gained over centuries. Lost very little of it." He could imagine his uncles now.

He had a life-long right to live at the palazzo, but that was all. His father had left no further money for him; everything was bound to the condition to marry and become the father of a son. A son - mind you. How many tries would it need to become the father of a son when it could be always girls? That thought amused him somewhat and he turned to his family.

He met the compassionate, old eyes of Anastasia, a little, fragile woman with a little, black hat. The eyes of his uncles were empty. And his mother? The once beautiful Valentina, the princess of Firenze, now destroyed by alcohol whose signs she could hardly cover. Not even with her black veil.

"What is there to grin about, son?" Arrigo snapped.

"I'm not your son, zio. Your nephew, as you might remember. And its up to me to keep the money rolling in, isn't that so", Alessandro sneered. "What would you do if I refuse to produce the heir and the money goes to the church? To decorate our family chapel for instance? Or to reserve the Dominican parish of Firenze the biggest part in the heart of Rome's Pope? He would certainly be pleased."

"Alessandro!" Emilio, the mayor, made a step forward. "You honestly can't do that. For heaven's sake, is it so complicated or beneath your dignity to marry to give us a heir?"

Alessandro shook his head. It wouldn't be complicated, but it would be against Alessandro's concept of his life. He wanted to study. He wanted to become a historian. He wanted to be free.

"And why isn't the money you have enough? You can live from your own income. What if I decided to decree explicitly for what my money should be used?"

"Because it is OURS!" Arrigo roared. "Nobody will take it away."

Alessandro closed his eyes. "I have one week to think it over. I'll let you know my decision."

He couldn't be alone right now. His mind would go round and round without finding a way out. But he didn't want to talk about his sorrow either. He was the strong one who never ever needed anyone to help him out.

On the other hand, there was someone who could help him. Not with his decision, but by his presence. He knocked at the front door of Luca's home, a palazzo like his own, though comparatively much smaller, and not with the same rich abundance of masterly worked stone masonry. He faced Luca's brother, thankfully it wasn't Dante. He didn't want to see that angry face. Heaven knew how that could be Luca's brother.

Marcello looked him up and down, chewing at a tramezzino. Of course, it was the lunch break. Apparently the family gathered at home then. "What do you want?" Marcello asked. "You have the biggest talent for showing up at the wrong time."

"Why? Isn't he here?"

"Of course he's here." Marcello made somewhat of a bow and opened the door invitingly. "Come on in." Alessandro sailed along, directly into the kitchen. Each family member was gathered around the wooden table, eating cooked rabbit. Alessandro's mouth watered.

Luca's fork fell onto his plate and he rose. "Sit down, son", Niccolò growled. "What do you want this time?"

"I'm really sorry. I'll come back later." Alessandro looked suddenly so boyish, that Clarissa's heart was touched. "Sit down, Alessandro. Are you hungry?" She started to pull out another plate, knife and fork and moved another chair to the table next to her. She waved to it invitingly and Alessandro followed, though he didn't know what was happening to him.

He felt Dante's glaring stare. He felt Marcello's curious eyes, and Giano's almost embarrassed look. Just Luca's face was glowing with excitement. Alessandro avoided looking at Niccolò. Silently he let Clarissa put him a piece of rabbit on his plate, a sauce with the scent of wild rosemary, decorated it with glazed carrots and a break off a large piece of bread for him. "There you have it, now enjoy your meal." She looked friendly and motherly. Alessandro's heart tugged, but bravely he took his fork and tried a piece. It melted on his tongue. "You're an excellent cook, signora."

Clarissa was pleased. It seemed as if the chatter had died when Alessandro had joined the table. Everyone was eating in silence, passing an occasionally stare over the table to the unwelcome intruder. Luca winked at him from time to time, and Alessandro loosened up somewhat. With his bread he took the last remainder of the sauce and sighed. "That was the best rabbit I've ever eaten, thank you", he said as polite as he could. Niccolò eyed him. "And why have we the pleasure of your company?" he asked, reaching for his pipe, stuffing tobacco in it.

"Well... I didn't want to disturb you. I forgot the time. I wanted to pick up Luca actually."

Clarissa wondered about Alessandro. He had lost his cocky behaviour and appeared to be an actually charming boy.

"Can I go with him?" Luca asked, already standing beside his chair. Dante left the kitchen.

"If that's all...." Niccolò waved with his puffing pipe.

"Wait for me, I'll be back in a minute", Luca said and rushed out of the kitchen. Alessandro followed him, but not without thanking the family for the meal. In the hall Dante was waiting for him.

"What do you want from my brother?" he growled. He was a half a head bigger than Alessandro and looked somewhat menacing.

"What do you want from me? Are you your brother's guard? Luca can go wherever he want."

"He can't. He isn't of age. He still lives at our home. So, I ask you again, what do you want, you little queer?"

Blood shot into Alessandro's face. "Nobody's going to call me a queer," he hissed dangerously. "I'm warning you."

Dante just laughed. Luca came down the staircase, wondering about the scene in front of him. But Alessandro took his arm and shoved him out the door.

"What was that? Did you have an argument?" he asked, watching Alessandro's angry face.

"Nothing important."

Luca stopped in his tracks. "Geez, I forgot to tell you. Dante found a drawing of mine. I mean of you. All naked..." he blushed and shuffled his feet.

"Naked? Of me? Madonna, how could you leave it lying around?"

"I didn't. Dante must have brought my gifts up to my room, snooped around and found it."

"Next time you'll hide it better. I need a drink, what about you?" Without waiting he entered the next bar, sat at a table in a corner and ordered two grappas. Luca sat in front of him.

"Do you still have the drawing?"

Luca nodded. "Dante called me names. I don't know what's gotten into him. He has never act this way before."

"He has never assumed that you're queer before", Alessandro stated, while the waiter placed two glasses of grappa on the table. Alessandro drank it down in one gulp. "Another please."

Luca sniffed at the glass. He didn't like grappa but nonetheless he sipped a bit of it. Then he shivered. Alessandro grinned. "And what now?" he asked. "Will he tell your parents?"

"So far he hasn't. But what will happen when he does?"

"Your mother's a nice woman, about your father I can't tell. They surely won't hate you. You have enough brothers who can breed grandchildren."

"Is that the only aspect of life?" Luca asked. "To breed children?"

Alessandro swallowed the second grappa. "For some people it is. That's the concept of life. To survive. To carry on the family's name. To hand over your possessions." He shrugged. "To me it's not important. I didn't ask to come into this world. It's my life now. I don't feel a responsibility to society."

"We don't live on an island."

Alessandro looked up surprised. "I told you, you're much too serious for your age, amore." He leaned over. "That was a philosophical opinion. Tell me more."

"What more? It's giving and receiving." For a moment Luca searched for words. "It's like a symbiosis of nature. We take fortunes from others. And the other can expect to receive something from us. That's all."

Alessandro shook his head. "It isn't so easy. What if nature stops us from giving?"

"How do you mean?"

"Look. We both are men. We can't have children on our own. We need the female part as it is written in the book of nature. And what will you do when you want to have children?"

"Adopt one."

"Nobody will give it to you because you're a queer and will spoil the kid's soul. They think it's infectious. Homosexuality I mean. And after all, it isn't the same. It's not your own flesh and blood. I was talking about handing over your genes."

"I know. But what's all this talk about?" he asked warily.

Alessandro looked out of the window. Over the expanse in front of the church of Santa Croce strolled the usual groups of tourists, gathering in front of the monument of Dante Alighieri.

"I've been to Will reading of my father."

"You didn't tell me!"

"No. It was this morning. You see the heir of to almost twenty million sitting in front of you."

Luca was shocked. "No, you're kidding me." But Alessandro's eyes told him that he wasn't. Luca emptied his grappa in one go and coughed. "What will you do with it?" he managed to say.

"Give it to the church."

"What?" Luca laughed harshly. "The church? You?"

"Will you marry me now that you know that I'm a good match?" Alessandro winked invitingly.

"Right away, let's go", Luca said dryly.

They stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

"There's just one problem. I really have to marry."

"Marry." Luca repeated. "Marry? Who said that?"

"A clause in the Will. I'll get the money when I marry and have a son."

"But, come on, that's ludicrous. Are we living in the middle ages where the father can extort his son?"

"You don't know the noble families, amore."

Luca shook his head. This was impossible to believe. "And who will get the money if you turn it down?"

"The church."

"The church? Was your father so religious?"

"Of course he wasn't. It's a trick he plays on me. Even after he's dead. Take revenge for my heinous life. I bet he jerks off right now from pure pleasure at having me in a pickle."

"And otherwise you'll have no money? But your mother?"

"She'll have the houses and a bit of money each year income as well as I'll have. 2,000 each month."

"So she certainly could provide you with some of it until you can stand on your own feet."

"I'm sure my uncles will find a way to hinder that."

They fell silent.

"I have two and a half years to fulfil my father's wish, Alessandro said finally, throwing some Euros upon the table cloth. "Let's not think about it. I'll start my study soon anyway."

"But..." Luca rose and followed Alessandro out. "You have to decide. You can turn down the bequest. I don't have much money either, and I can life off that."

"Yeah. You. Next week my decision has to be made."

Luca stood on the pavement. His head swirled. "What will it mean to us when you marry?" he shouted after Alessandro's back, not caring about the people passing by.

Alessandro waited for him to come closer. "Probably nothing. I'll continue my life. But", he hesitated, "that's not what I want, you see? I don't want to live a life of hiding, of lies. It soils our relationship. It puts it into a corner where it doesn't belong. I don't want to become one of those cowards, living their real life in a fantasy world. Or in gay bars, carefully hidden in the darkest corner. I am out. I am gay. Everybody shall know."

Luca said nothing, but he understood. "You've slept with girls before", he mumbled.

Alessandro turned furiously. "And so what? Haven't we all before we realize what we really want? It wasn't a mistake. I won't say it wasn't worth it. It's not that different."

"So..."

"What so?" Alessandro snapped. "You say I should fuck the girl, get a son and live happily ever after with my twenty millions, right? That's the price for losing my soul?"

"You could divorce after a while, pay the mother, take your son and live with the twenty millions happily ever after."

Alessandro looked at him surprised. "I hadn't expected such corrupt ideas residing in your mind, gioia", he said calmly. But the idea had fallen on fertile ground. Could he find a girl to make an agreement with? Perhaps it wouldn't be that difficult when he could promise a generous compensation.

"But the kid?" Luca asked. "Wouldn't you be interested? Having a son? Wouldn't you care for him?"

"I'm a kid myself still!"

Luca couldn't object. More than anything he wanted to comfort Alessandro. The ridiculous clause couldn't be the end of the world. "May I come to your place?" Luca rubbed Alessandro's back.

"Sure you can", he responded softly. Alessandro didn't feel like himself. Nothing, absolutely nothing had been able to throw him off track like this. It concerned his future life, that was true.

He sat with Luca on the loggia in the wicker chairs. After yesterday's rain the air was fresh and clean, and a mild breeze was getting up. He didn't want to end their days together this way. Their days before he started his study at Pisa. On the other hand, they hadn't made a pact. They were sharing the bed, that was true. But how much of his time was Luca allowed to give him? He, being the protected chicken of the family. Not of age, jealously watched by his big brothers. Admittedly, Luca was intelligent, and he had good talks with him he didn't dream of having with his buddies. Just the opposite. But was this the start of a real relationship? It couldn't be. Both of them were much too young.

"I'm much too young to bind myself for all of my life", he said aloud.

"Of course you are. That's why I suggested you marry and divorce. If you find a girl that agrees to it for money it should certainly be this way." Luca was agitated. "I mean, the facts are clear: she gets what she wants and you get what you want."

Alessandro sighed. "If only it was that easy. You remember the kids of Michael Jackson? I guess he made a similar agreement. You don't believe in the slightest that his kids were sired in a natural way, do you."

"You mean, he bought his kids?"

Alessandro flinched. Could you play with humans? What if his son found out that he was fathered without love? Just to fulfil a monstrous last will? Because money was more important than the birth of a new human? Even if that new born would have the best conditions in which to start his life? Wealth, care, perhaps love in the circle of a family? And who would that be, eh? His drunken mother, who didn't care the least about other people? His uncles and their wives, who weren't able to breed kids themselves? Another idea crossed his mind.

"What if I'd find a doc that proves I am infertile?"

"What?"

Alessandro leaned forward. "Yes. I can't father children, imagine that. And what then? Would the money be mine or the church's?"

"You'll never find a doc to prove that. And how will you pay him? Your family will drag you in front of every doc they know of."

Alessandro leaned back again. Luca was right. There was no way out.

"But what will happen when you indeed turn it down? The money would be lost to the family. They would be cross with you, right. But they won't kill you."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that", Alessandro said gloomily, and Luca laughed unkindly.

"Now, where's that pearly laughter of yours, hm? Come, let's forget about this. My mother's gone to Fiesole and we have the house to ourselves. You haven't seen the rest of it."

He pulled Luca along with him, giving him the grand tour. But it wasn't showing off, Luca sensed that. He just should learn more about Alessandro's household. He felt as if he was visiting a museum and he was glad when he could return to Sandro's room under the roof. Nothing of what he had seen was cosy enough to live in.

"Come here", Alessandro said, taking Luca into his arms. Oddly enough he felt weak and Luca was the only person he would allow to sense it. He wondered why. Stroking Luca's back up and down, his face buried into the blond hair, he felt for the first time how good it was to have a friend. Even more, when the friend and lover were the same.

Luca had so many questions still to ask on his behalf. He was very confused about the events. He couldn't grasp the wealth this family had gathered over the centuries. He couldn't even comprehend the change Alessandro was going through. It was as if he would turn into another under his hands. He pulled him to the bed, pulled away the curtain, and fell with him between the soft pillows. This at least was something he understood. A place for withdrawal. A comfort. A place of their own with no stares, no nasty names called, and reality could wait outside.

It wasn't long before their sex drive gained the upper hand. It wasn't to see if Luca had learnt to hold out; it was a play, nothing more. And he could repeat it as often as he wanted. "That's the good fortune of being so young," Alessandro said indistinctly, sucking at Luca's cock, dangling in front of him, while Luca did the same for him. "That's called 69."

Luca moaned. "No more of that education, please", before both burst out into a heartfelt laughter.

_____________________

 

8

_____________________

"In 1422 Tommaso enrolled in the Arte dei Medici e degli Speziali, as every Artist was involved there. Being a painter means you are a Chemist too, with special knowledge of paints and colours and how to mix them. Ingredients from foreign countries, such as Marco Polo had introduced to them. Ingredients shipped by from over the oceans for our pharmacies and kitchens and workshops of Art. We continued our work together and I became more and more influenced by my young pupil.

Whenever I used this name for him in public his face grew angry. Having a healthy rosy colour on his own, it started to gain a fiery red and his black, longish hair stood on end over his forehead. He stressed that he was not my pupil, for whatever reason. Today I know he felt that he was so much better than I was. Together we worked on the panel painting of the Madonna with her child and Santa Anna, and thepeople said, it was as if the old kind and the new kind of Art came together. Melding. It was the first work to manifest from our relationship. It was the first time I learnt that there was something else outside my world as painter.

It was at our workshop that Tommaso took the brush from me, opened my paint soiled work coat, and loosened the girdle around my waist that held the short skirt over my tights.

"I need a model", he said seriously. "For my Saint Paul." I stared at the piece of wood he had ground already, which would be part of a polyptychon for the Carmine church of Pisa. He had outlined a massive three-quarter figure of the apostle. "I search for intensity, detail", Tommaso explained, undressing me further. My skirt had fallen, like a loose shirt and I was standing embarrassed with nothing more than my tights and shoes.

"That's what I need." Tommaso said pleased, his black eyes scanning my body. After a time of measuring and watching, drawing lines and improving, he stepped closer again. It was as if needles were pricking my skin when his fingers outlined the contours of my body. "You are a masterpiece", he said and his voice had taken on a husky tone. Without being able to stop him, he had loosened the pouch that hid my genitals, cupping them in his palm. "I need a closer view for my professional viewpoint."

And then... and then.... I cannot describe. My feather trembles and I fear to blotch the parchment. Not even here and now can I confess what happened. The unspeakable... that I longed for since I had first seen him. His youth. The gift of his body. Every night from then on."

Alessandro and Luca, leaning tightly together against the wall, followed Masolino's diary. "You see, he admits it. Well, as if anyone hadn't suspected it."

“What? I didn't."

"That's because you've heard nothing of Masolino before." Alessandro kissed Luca's nose.

"And what's the interesting part now?" Luca asked, eying the relatively thickness of the book.

"Patience, amore. The interesting part is what they did together that Masolino didn't want to describe", he teased.

"I've imagination enough."

"Have you?" Alessandro put aside the book and closed Luca's lips with his mouth. "I bet you know just a fraction of what we can do in bed." He pushed Luca onto his back and started fooling around with him.

* * * * *

Spring spread a gentle pattern in many greenish colours over the landscape: the yellow-green of the young corn and wheat, the blue-green of the rye, in between long rows of silver-green olive trees and yellowish fig trees and bluish vines, while upon hills the black green pines and cypresses stood like guards against the light blue sky. Luca absorbed the forms of the landscape like a dry sponge. Sitting beside Alessandro in his Ferrari he enjoyed the drive up into the hills of Fiesole, the little, Etruscan village high above his hometown. He had been here before - naturally - but by bus, and not in this posh, bright red automobile from which Sandro had pushed back the roof and the air currents whirled in his hair.

He didn't know exactly why Sandro had invited him to visit the summer-villa of his family, but it was all the same to him. He was with Sandro and that was enough. A short passage led them through forests of chestnuts, oaks and beeches, alternating with meadows in full bloom. Fairytale meadows as he called them in his mind. Thick carpets of grass and wild flowers, red poppy and blue iris, deep-pink gladiolas, violet anemones and blue cornflowers, wild orchids and the beautiful green-white blooming wild garlic. He longed to throw himself into them and breath the scent, but Alessandro didn't stop. He surely had an eye for this beauty, but actually his mind was on other things.

"Do you know why Tuscany looks as it does?" he asked. "It's the touch of human hands. The olive trees, the grapes, the cypresses and pines, the villas with gardens, terraces and lemon trees. My family was once proud of their noble past. But what were we? All that we had was our unbearable arrogance. We lived in our castles in the valley of the Mugello." He pointed to a spot in front of them, where the hills opened, and a gentle rolling valley appeared, in its depth a tiny river sparkled. "We could hardly write our names, and had heard about Christianity but only from afar.

From our castles we ravaged the landscape, plundered the monasteries and kidnapped the monks. We were nothing more than robber barons, Bevisangue - blood-drinker. And if the merchants of Florence defeated one of us, they set fire to our castle and forced us to live for a year in the town - to civilize us I guess. But it didn't help much, we introduced Vendetta and didn't give up the habit of building tower-houses, like animals following their nest-building drive. Hundreds of those tower-houses stood in Florence; the lion's tower, the flea- and snake-tower and of course, the lizard-tower."

He flashed a brief grin in the direction of Luca, who listened attentively. Sometimes Sandro's tales were interesting. "Those towers weren't only expressions of the obstinacy and ostentacy of our families, but they were needed to stand firm in sieges, like we did in the mountains' olden days. We had constant feuds with the other families or with our own members. The Gondis didn't own just the so-called lizard-tower but many more in addition, spread all over the town."

"Yeah, and then the whole clan entrenched in one of them and threw stones and burning pitch upon the rebels," Luca said. "The connected houses were destroyed with heavy battering rams and in the streets were built barricades and all the congenial inhabitants couldn't leave their houses. Right?"

Alessandro grinned once more. "You did your homework well", he said. "But it was just this boundless thirst for power, that was the sign of the real Florentine. And the Pisan looked down on us like at a pack of wild mountain men, stingy, envious and proud as we had been."

Alessandro stopped at a tiny, open piazza in whose middle the monument of Garibaldi meeting King Umberto stood. "The fight between aristocracy and merchants led to the strange silence and barren hills because the castles and fortresses were pulled down bit by bit”, he continued. "The towers of San Gimigniano, standing like a mirage at the skyline, are the sole survivors of a time when the landscape was sprinkled with a thicket of towers. We, the noble people, hadn't been anything more than highwaymen, charging private customs duty and plundering the caravans of passing merchants." Alessandro looked straight forward, still clutching the steering wheel.

Luca looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Why are you telling me this?"

Suddenly Alessandro burst out into a joyful laughter. "You love my explanations , don't you?" He leaned over and kissed Luca's lips. "I can't help it. Do you think I'll become a good tourist guide one day?"

"Tourist guide? I thought you studied history to work in a museum?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'd love to guide foreigners through the town to tell them all this."

Luca shook his head. "I'm not sure about that. Tourists would soon grow bored if you stuff them with all this information."

"Depends on which kind of tourists I choose."

"Ah. How long will you need to study to become a historian?"

"Four years I guess."

Luca's heart sank. He couldn't imagine waiting four long years for Sandro's return. But he pushed the thought away. "You've told me this story to understand your history, haven't you. From a wild highwayman to an acclaimed member of your family. Mayor and all. Heir of a twenty-million-inheritance."

Alessandro nodded slowly. "It means that we are little more than farmers. Noble blood means nothing. It's just a title."

"And yet you still carry a lot of pride", Luca said in a low voice. He thought about their first meeting at the cemetery. The haughty look from Sandro's eyes that gave the silent sign to stay away. "I could tell by your eyes that you thought I was beneath you."

Alessandro was silent. Secretly he agreed. And what had made him change his mind? He started the motor again and drove along a small street, passing the Etruscan museum with the wide amphitheatre and the excavations behind until they reached a driveway and, behind cypresses, a flat roofed villa, painted yellow, with green shutters. The staircase was flanked by lemon- and orange trees in buckets. "That's our villa, Luca. I guess mother is in the garden behind the house."

Luca took it all in as he followed Alessandro around the house on a neat sandy path. He saw a bent figure in black crouching between the flowerbeds and a beguiling scent of rosemary and lavender streamed through his nostrils. He saw a row of strawberries and bluebells. The figure rose and wiped her hands, then she shaded her eyes. "Alessandro, is that you?"

A lovely voice. But somewhat brittle. "Ciao, Mamma. Why are you doing this alone? Where's Fran? Fran is our gardener", he said to Luca.

Luca looked curious. He didn't know what to expect. He had thought that Sandro's family would be upset to meet him, and he awkwardly stepped from one foot to the other. "This is Luca, my friend", Alessandro introduced Luca who stretched out a hand.

Valentina didn't take it, but looked embarrassed. Luca felt, that he had done something wrong.

"Your friend?" Valentina asked angrily and looked through Luca as if he wasn't there. "Have you decided, otherwise why have you come up here?"

"No, I haven't decided." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a wonderful day."

Luca's eyes wandered between mother and son. Valentina was still dressed in black, but a big Florentine hat with artificial fruits and flowers shaded her face. He thought that her eyes were unsteady and a faint smell of alcohol streamed from her clothes. She led the way between the beds to a small table under a fig tree and sat down. "Help yourself, there's tea in the kitchen", she said, taking a carafe and pouring something in her glass.

Alessandro turned up his nose and went in, pulling Luca with him. "She's drinking again. And what would she do with her long days anyway. Squander the money the best as she knows."

Like you, Luca thought and was ashamed of his thoughts. But at least Sandro had a brain and he knew how to use it. He followed him into the kitchen, a wide room with pots and pans hanging along the walls, an oven in the middle of it and baskets full of vegetables, potatoes, glasses with spaghetti and sauces, pots with fresh herbs drying in lines across the windows. "Does she live here alone?" Luca asked surprised.

"Yes, with Fran, the gardener and Anastasia who's the cook." He pulled out a jug with lemon tea and poured two glasses. "Alone with the ghosts."

Luca choked on his drink. "With the ghosts?"

"The ghosts of our family." Alessandro finished his glass and stared into Luca's eyes. "It's anniversary day. That's the reason I brought you with me."

Luca felt as if he was being treated like a marionette in a play he didn't understand. "Stop talking in riddles, Sandro. Why did you want me to see this?"

"Because you're the first to see this."

"You use me for your rebellion against your family", Luca stated. "But I'm not the buffer between you and your family matters." He turned as a shadow had covered the sunshine flooding through the entrance door. Valentina stood there, glass in her hand, slightly swaying. "What do you want then, Alessandro, if it's not to discuss your family inheritance? Come back when you have decided and leave me in peace."

Alessandro laughed. "In peace? You? So that you can continue to pour drinks until you fall unconscious into your bed? Like you always do?"

"Alessandro! Language!" Her eyes pierced Luca. "And what is this about? Bringing your boyfriend to our villa. You know that your father would turn in his grave. You are a disgrace to our family."

"Family?" Alessandro harshly set his glass back upon the marble work surface. "Do you care about the family? Come", he took Luca's sleeve and dragged him out the back door. It led to an area of the garden that was protected by box trees . He stopped at a low hill of earth overgrown with ivy and daisies. A small wooden cross marked the head. It had no decoration. "That's my brother Nardo. He died five years ago." Alessandro crouched and plucked dried leaves from the grave. "There isn't even a name. He died of AIDS."

Luca was shocked and stared down. There wasn't even a name...

"That's the family's shame. They did nothing for him. They hid him until he died a wretched death in a hospital for the poor. The Loggia del Bigallo cared for him, the white monks. It was at the time when uncle Emilio fought to become Mayor and he didn't need any scandal in the family. I suppose you've heard nothing about it?"

"Definitely not", Luca mumbled. He was much too young to know about the disease, like Alessandro must have been.

"I was thirteen, but I knew what was going on. I saw Nardo in hospital and I saw him dying. I was the only one visiting him. And Anastasia." He looked up and Luca couldn't read his face. It was closed. And sad. "My father abandoned him. He didn't want to have anything to do with the pervert. And now..."

"...you carry on the family's shame", Luca whispered.

"Right." Alessandro rose.

And his mother started to drink, Luca thought.

"That's the true face of the aristocracy, Luca", Alessandro said bitterly. "That's why I separate myself from them. I don't want to end up like him. I'm a slut, but I'm a careful slut. And when I take the millions I'll be free. I won't be dependent on their money. I'll have my own palazzo. My own villa up here, or somewhere else. Why not in the Roman Campagna? That would be far enough away from all this shit."

Luca freed himself. "You intend to take up the inheritance then? Marry and have a son? For money? To get your own back on your family? But that's no use to Nardo. He will still be dead."

Alessandro looked angry and turned his back on him. "Perhaps I want to show Florence that the Gondi's can do something other than to reign a town."

“Alessandro?"

Luca turned at the sharp shout. Valentina was standing there, a fresh filled glass in her hand. Alessandro passed Luca and stepped close to his mother. "Salute, Mamma. Drink as long as you can. And when you have finished you can lay beside your son." He sneered. "As a disgrace to our family."

He walked away, not looking back. Luca stood dumbfounded for a second, then he ran after him. He reached him at the Ferrari, and hopped into it before Alessandro started the engine and drove away; spraying gravel from under the wheels.

Luca coughed. "What was that? Why are you treating your mother this way? Is it her fault?"

"Her fault?" Alessandro laughed unkindly. "It was her fault as it was the fault of all of us. She didn't try to stop what happened. She didn't care for her son because she was afraid to become an outcast. No, my dear. It is the men in the family. You've seen my uncle Arrigo. If I don't do what they want, I'm an outcast too."

"But, that's what you want, isn't it?" Luca couldn't follow Alessandro's illogical thoughts.

"Right." Alessandro clutched the steering wheel while he was speeding through the village, passing the monument on the piazza and along down the street. But this time he didn't choose the direction that would lead them back to Florence, but one directly into the valley of the Mugello.

He stopped his car on a deserted country road. Swallows flew low over the meadows and larks twittered high above in the violet sky. Crickets chirped and the scent of bitter thyme and rosemary floated over the earth. Alessandro sat and pondered, then he got out and strolled through the meadow. Luca was fed up of being treated as a bystander. He jumped out of the car too. "What do you want then? Why have you dragged me along like a total idiot in front of your mother? Do you want to prove that you're the oh so pitiful last offspring of an old family whose life is oh so hard? What are you missing?"

Alessandro turned furiously and gave him a baleful look. His cheeks were glowing. But he said nothing. After a while of silent mutual glares Alessandro's eyes became bleak and suddenly he looked miserable. "I'm sorry, amore. I hadn't planned to confront my mother this way. I..." he made a helpless gesture. "It was my way to show you my pain . Probably it was the wrong way to go." He sat down between daisies and anemones and looked helpless like a little boy. Luca sat beside him.

"Are you serious? Do you really want to take up the last will of your father?"

Alessandro nodded. Luca sighed and stretched out between the grass and flowers. A bee was humming over his head. The larks were still twittering. "Then we won't have anything in common anymore."

Alessandro looked down at him, bewildered.

"Yesterday you said you are out”, Luca continued. “You’re gay. Everybody shall know. And now this. Do you seriously think that you can tell the town you're a gay but are determined to marry a girl to father a son? They’ll think it ludicrous and will laugh at you."

"Nobody has ever laughed at a Gondi."

"Then you’ll be the first."

"I won't be the first to marry and live a secret life."

"For the people, yes", Luca said peeved. "And what about your soul?"

"Hey. It was you who said I could divorce and start my real life."

Luca sighed and shook his head. "That's not the same. And what will you do when you study at Pisa? You'll find plenty of young men as substitute for me. You won't waste a single thought about me. So, why is my opinion so important?"

"And you? What if you find another boy? At the workshop for instance?"

Luca laughed. "In front of Dante and my father to watch me? Pah. That's impossible."

"Anything is possible, amore", Alessandro whispered. He bent over Luca and opened the belt, holding his jeans. He pulled down the zipper and stroked Luca's abdomen. It was more a soothing gesture than one to arouse his sexual feelings. Nonetheless it did that for Luca. "You think you can solve anything with sex", he grumbled. "You still need to decide. I don't believe you when you say you have already. You're still fighting with yourself. What if your uncle insists that you stay in Florence in order to chose a girl? What if you can't study?"

Alessandro's fingers stopped stroking Luca's warm, raising meat. He hadn't thought about that. If the decision was to study or to accept the conditions of the last will, he knew what he would do.

"If I can't study I'll turn it down", he said solemnly. "To become a historian is the only thing I ever wanted."

"Is that a promise?"

Alessandro nodded and closed Luca's lips with his own.

*

Luca plucked dried grass and leaves from Alessandro's hair when they arrived back at the town again. There, in the meadow, in Sandro's arms, it was easy to forget. But Firenze's gloomy presence embraced them and the warm Spring's afternoon was giving a cheerless touch. Although he did think that his hometown could shine in the sun, and make everyone forget the unfriendly, fortress-like appearance. A town where the tourists were driven through like a herd of swine, where the bars were filled up by noon, the shutters were closed to stop the heat and the shops were closed until late afternoon.

When Luca and Alessandro arrived home, they found Alessandro's uncle Arrigo lounging in an armchair, staring into the empty fire side in the living room.

"You’re finally here, nephew", he said, eying an annoyed Luca behind Alessandro's back. "I see you've brought your boyfriend into our house?"

"You have your own house, zio", Alessandro said cool. "So why are you here?"

"To have a word with you, in private."

Alessandro restrained himself. What a chain of unhappy meetings, he thought. "Go up and wait for me", he whispered into Luca's ear, who then disappeared reluctantly. He waited though around the corner and listened. He didn't want to be dismissed like a servant.

"Fine", Alessandro took his place in the other armchair and stretched out his legs. Revolted Arrigo eyed the grass spots upon his nephew's shirt.

"We all wait for your decision, Alessandro. I don't have to stress that it is strictly a family matter. Nobody else needs to be involved. We gathered our wealth across the centuries and no cent of it should be lost. To give it to the church is unacceptable."

"So why do you dismiss father's last will then? If you search for someone to complain to then go to his grave and complain there. He's the one that has put me into this difficult position and nobody else."

Arrigo laughed. "That's an odd remark, nephew. Matteo knew very well what you would decide. We have nothing to do with the church, nor with the Dominican monks for God's sake." He made the sign of cross. Alessandro watched it taken aback.

"I thought you at least had respect for our family chapel in the church that belongs to that order", he said. "How old is it? Eight hundred years? What do you think our ancestors would say if they could hear you talking like this?"

Arrigo bent forward. A vein at his temple started to pulsate.

"You couldn't even bring yourself to lay your other nephew to rest at our family tomb at San Miniato", Alessandro continued. "It's the anniversary of his death by the way. Have you been there?"

"Your brother doesn't matter. He brought himself an early death. Deserved it by all means."

Alessandro turned his eyes to the high, wooden ceiling. What for heaven's sake had he done to deserve such a speech. "May I ask you on which planet you live, zio? What have we done to deserve such hatred? Have you opened your eyes and looked around? When was there a time when Firenze wasn't homosexual?"

"Eh? What are you talking about?"

"And you don't want to ruin my reputation as the womanizer of the town, do you. Everybody believes that I could impregnate half of the town if I just wanted to, right?"

"Then do what we want you to do, we expect nothing more. Go and fuck the whole female inhabitants of the town, I don't mind. But give us a son."

Alessandro rose. "If you weren't such an empty nut you could had done it yourself already."

Arrigo almost leapt from his chair and punched Alessandro's face. Alessandro jerked back and wiped his mouth. The corner of his mouth was bleeding. Revolted he turned. "That's all you can do, zio. Hit people. Congratulations." He stood at the door. "What will you do to stop me from taking up my study at Pisa? Do you want to hold me here until I've married?"

"You can bet that I will."

Alessandro turned and walked out of the room, up the stairs, passing Luca without seeing him.

Arrigo stormed out of the room, bumped into Luca, gave him a push and slammed the door behind him. Luca ran upstairs, caught up with Alessandro on the staircase and looked into his face. "You're bleeding."

"Were you spying from around the corner?"

Luca pulled out a hanky and wiped Alessandro's lips. "It isn't bad", he said. Alessandro stopped him.

"I hadn't thought your family was such a plague", Luca said quietly when they entered Alessandro's room.

"Now you know. And how difficult it is to resist them? What shall I do?"

"Act like an adult for the first time in your life and resist. For your own sake."

"For my own sake", Alessandro repeated. "You've heard him. He will keep me here in Florence."

"And how will he manage that? Kidnap you and hide you in his house?"

"Perhaps."

"But that's nonsense. I would know and then the police would know."

Alessandro looked Luca up and down. "You don't know how the Italian government works, gioia. Nobody will care."

Luca felt as if he was standing at an abyss. Was there really no way out? Surely there must be. Alessandro couldn't be right. Nobody could stop a young man who wanted to spend his life learning. Not even the old family rules. "Does this mean you'll give up?"

"No." Alessandro shook his head determined. "I'll turn down the inheritance. Now I'm really going to show him."

 

 

 

________________________

 

9

_________________________

It was the next to last week before Luca started his apprenticeship at the Opificio delle pietre dure. He sat in the open loggia of Alessandro's room and let his body cool. During the past few days it had become warm, but up here there was a pleasant breeze blowing. He leafed through Sandro's books which he had gathered on a table and upon his knees. He would have read on in Masolino's diary, but somehow, without Sandro's permission, he didn't dare to pull out the book although he knew where it was hidden. Over the past days it had become their habit to spend them together, strolling through the town, buying each other flowers from the grand flower market, listening to the music of the open air festival that began each year in May, filled the rest of the time with sex, which Luca couldn't get enough of, and tried as best as they could to repress thoughts of the day when Alessandro had to declare himself.

What would the family say, when Sandro turned down the bequest ? His own family still held reservations about his new friend; but so far his brother Dante hadn't told them that Sandro was probably more than a friend.

"Luca?"

Luca jumped from his chair when he saw Alessandro entering the room, in one hand a bowl, in the other a bottle.

"I made it." He said simply, beaming.

"And your family? Your uncle? Didn't he want to kill you right away?"

"Yes, of course. He was silent, but I felt the hate. And feelings of revenge. I bet he's wondering how he could still stop me."

"And the church? Will the Prior be informed?" Luca asked excitedly.

"I guess so. Tomorrow's another appointment with the notary. and with the proxy of the Dominican order." Alessandro grinned and swung the bottle. "Champagne to celebrate." He sat down the bowl. "And Tiramisu, enough to make you sick.”

"Yummy." Luca opened the bowl and tried it with his forefinger, licking the soft, alcoholised

cake. Alessandro conjured two spoons, two glasses and let the plastic cork pop.

Luca drank and then sputtered "And the rest of your family. Aren't they angry, that the fortune is lost now?"

"They have enough money of their own, so why do they need to bother with the rest of it?" He emptied his glass, licked the spoon and embraced Luca. "Celebrate with me, will you? I'll take you out."

"Take me out?" Luca was already busy undressing Alessandro. "You'll have your private celebration with me first."

Villa Kazar's entrance overlooked the illuminated river Arno. Dozens of coloured electric light bulbs burnt along the road that led down to the open shore, and to a wooden raft where a disc jockey played soft music while hot rhythms echoed from the rooms inside. It was the evening with the theme "The Fifties", and so everyone had dressed in white jeans, hooped shirts and tiny neckerchiefs; some with sailor's hats and white trainers; the girls with ¾ petticoats.

Villa Kazarwas open to everyone, straight and gay, girls and boys and nobody cared if two boys danced tightly embraced upon the wooden planks, to Adriano Celentano's scratchy voice, a mandolin and a trumpet in the background.

Luca and Alessandro, still aroused from too much amore, stick to each other like leeches and unable to be separated. Not even when Luciano showed up, wanting a dance with Alessandro. Not even when Alessandro detected two of his buddies, stumbling out of the entrance with flushed faces due to too much alcohol.

They waved. "Hey, Sandro!", then they stood petrified. "What the fuck are you doing there? Are you stoned that you can't tell a girl from a boy?"

Luca froze in Alessandro's arms. "Don't they know?" he asked. Alessandro giggled. "Of course not. Do you think they would have accepted me then as their leader, eh?" He waved back.

Luca felt not exactly comfortable, noticing the stares Alessandro's buddies were giving him. "You'll get problems."

"Nonsense." Alessandro pressed his body tightly to Luca's. "What do I care about those blockheads?"

"There was a time you DID care, have you forgotten?"

Alessandro stepped back a little to look into Luca's face. "I never cared, amore. I never needed them. It was just more fun to be in company."

"What was more fun? To whistle after the girls? To lay them? To drive through the town after midnight?"

"All of that."

Alessandro's buddies had gone, and Luca was relieved. Perhaps they were too plastered to remember anything in the morning. "Let us go", he said. Considering Alessandro's state of excitement he didn't want to miss the night.

Together they sauntered along the river; fading music sounded from over the other side of it. It wasn't so late that Florence was deserted. Tourists still strolled through the silent streets. From bars that had their tables and chairs placed outside on the streets sounded chatter and laughing. "It's good that Spring is back, don't you think?" Alessandro mused. "The town is dead in winter."

"Yes." Luca said sadly. "But you'll not be here with me."

Alessandro kissed his cheek. "I'll visit you as soon as possible. And you can come whenever you want. Stay over the weekend, it isn't far away."

Giano had told him the same, Luca thought. He would have problems arranging all that.

By and by the streets became more narrow, darker and emptier. They passed the tiny piazza of the even more tiny church of Santi Apostoli, the oldest church in town. It crouched dirty brown in the shadows beside a wall of houses. Luca heard footsteps behind them. He turned and saw a figure coming closer. He shrugged and was about to lose himself in thoughts again when another figure appeared in front of them. He couldn't help it but something deep within him warned him. He got goose bumps and stopped walking. Alessandro at his side didn't seem to bother, although he likewise stopped and turned to Luca. "What's wrong?" Then he followed Luca's stare.

There were two dark figures meanwhile coming up on them. And, looking back, one behind them. "What is it with you? Are you afraid of night-time walkers?" Before Luca could answer he felt grabbed from behind. An arm was wrapped around his neck, strangling his windpipe. He gagged and was dragged to the ground, then he was released. When he looked up, Alessandro was surrounded. Black figures, in black balaclavas. "Had fun, faggot?" one started, the voice indistinct due to the mask. Alessandro flexed his body, ready to face whatever might come next. "What do you want...straight boy?" he said with his typical, fearless sneer.

"Sandro, don't!", Luca shouted, but he received a kick between his ribs and fell back, coughing for air. Alessandro turned furiously.

"I wouldn't move, faggot, if I were you."

Alessandro was puzzled and tried to remember the voice. "Come, if you dare", he shouted now, "and receive the best fuck of your life from a faggot, and when I'm done with you, you'll beg me for more."

His head was flung aside when it received the first hit, but Alessandro had learnt how to protect himself. He clenched his fists and started to prance. But he was without any chance. Luca had enough breath to stand up and get into a clinch with the third attacker, but after a silent fight, Alessandro lay flat on his back on the ground, bleeding from several cuts, his breathing laboured.

Luca saw three shadows flee through the narrow streets. "Sandro?" He scrambled closer and tried to figure out Alessandro's face in the darkness. "Sandro? Are you alright?"

"Sure I am", Alessandro mumbled, not exactly able to move his body upright. He didn't know what hurt more, his abdomen, his stomach, his hand, or the cuts on his face.

"Jesus Christ! That's never happened before," Luca shouted. "Please, get up. I'll phone a taxi to the hospital."

"No hospital." Alessandro moaned while he tried to sit upright. He was more than pissed at himself; that this time he hadn't been able to protect himself, or even Luca. "What's with you?"

"I'm ok." Luca couldn’t feel the pain from his ribs.

"Good. Then help me up, please."

Luca crouched behind Alessandro and hauled him up. "Can you walk?"

Alessandro could. Together they dragged themselves through the streets, passing people who thought that too much alcohol didn't go well with the youth of the day. From afar they heard the sirens of a police car.

Up in the room Luca lay Alessandro upon his bed and started to undress him with trembling hands. He examined his chest and found blue-red bruises. Alessandro complained about pain in his abdomen, so Luca pulled down his underpants and gasped. One of his testicles was swollen and had turned a nasty red colour. "I'll call a doc, Sandro. This looks serious."

"Yeah, one of those bastards got me there with his boots." He moaned from sheer helplessness. "Call the family doc, the number is at my wallet."

The doctor diagnosed a broken rib, a broken little finger and a contusion of the testicles. He said that Luca should add ice to it as long as Alessandro would endure this and then it would soon go away. He put a bandage around his hand and said the rib would heal without any treatment, assuming, that Sandro didn't move too much.

"You didn't recognize the guys?" he asked Luca, after an examination of Luca himself. Luca shook his head. "I'd go to the police tomorrow first, boy. That's not a joke. Any idea why they attacked you?"

Luca looked down. Should he tell the doc that they called them names? Faggot? That it was homophobic related? A hot wire burned suddenly in his stomach. The guys at Villa Kazar... Sandro's buddies.... but they had been too drunk to do anything like that. Right?

"Give him these tablets and take yourself one. You need to rest too with your bruised ribs. I'll come back tomorrow. Where's Signora Lucertola?"

"Fiesole."

"Anybody else in the house?"

Luca shook his head. He received an concerned look from the doc. He lifted Luca's chin. "Go to the police tomorrow. Promise?"

*

Luca couldn't sleep. He lay beside the slumbering Alessandro who moaned occasionally in his sleep and he pondered. What if it had been Sandro's buddies indeed? They had seen them together and there was no mistaking that they were a couple. Could they be so annoyed that they wanted to teach them a lesson? Would that make sense? Not really. Who else? Bums who wanted money? They didn't search for money. And why would they call them faggots then when they couldn't know. He always came back to the same result. They must know Luca and Alessandro.

Then he realised that he would have to stay overnight again, and his own family wouldn't know where he was. Luckily Giano owned a mobile, so he decided to call him. It sounded, as if his brother wasn't at home either. From far away he heard music playing, he was probably sitting in a pub. Luca told him where he was and since it was late, Alessandro had asked him to stay overnight. He tried to sound as casual as he could and he thought that Giano had swallowed his excuses. Then he went down to the kitchen to look for ice that he could place upon Alessandro's abdomen. He took the cubes out, crunched them, put them into a plastic bag, wrapped it into towels and returned.

In the morning he searched in Sandro's wallet and found the telephone number of the house at Fiesole. Despite the early morning hour he rang and was answered by a fragile, tired voice. "House of Gondi-Lucertola. Anastasia is speaking."

Luca cleared his throat. "Buon Giorno, this is Luca Montori speaking. May I speak to Signora Lucertola?"

"Scusa, but the Signora is still sleeping. It is very early."

"It's urgent."

There was a tiny pause of silence. "Has something happened to Alessandro?"

"Yes. Please, I just want to inform the Signora that he was hurt last night. He is doing better though."

A gasp came from the other side of the phone. "I'm coming." A click announced that she had hung up.

Luca didn't know if he had done the right thing when he returned to Alessandro and wiped his sweaty forehead. He seemed to had fallen into a deep sleep and this was actually the best thing he could do. Luca pulled back the bed covers and took away the bundle of crushed ice from Alessandro's abdomen. It was cold, but the swelling seemed to have diminished. But it was still bluish-red and Luca feared the worst. Hate boiled up in his stomach. Yes, he would go to the police as soon as Anastasia was here.

He went downstairs into the kitchen and turned on the radio for the news. The weather forecast promised more warmth in the near future.

He started to search for something to eat for himself, found bread and cold turkey, and made himself a tramezzino. He was drinking cold milk from the fridge when he heard a key turning in the lock of the entrance door. He rushed to the door, holding his ribs, that suddenly started to hurt again and faced old Anastasia, a head shorter than he himself, dressed in black lace, a tiny hat upon her head. "That's Luca?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Alessandro is upstairs, he is still sleeping." Anastasia took off her hat and went slowly into the kitchen. "The bus was late this morning", she excused herself. "Now please tell me what happened last night."

*

"Thank you for being there for Alessandro", she said, after Luca had finished his story. She looked miserable, pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "What a sad story. A fight on an open street does not often happen, but then, horrible things have happened before", she said mysteriously.

Luca thought instantly of the mysterious murders of couples in the close surrounding of Florence, that made had headlines for over a decade

"Do you have an idea who it was?"

Luca was silent. He had a suspicion, but how could he prove that it had been Sandro's buddies? He couldn't slander them without proof. Perhaps Sandro had more enemies. His uncle Arrigo for instance. Or the mayor.

Anastasia watched him with watery eyes. "You are pretty", she stated. Her voice sounded calm and approving, as if she was his granny. "No wonder Alessandro has fallen for you."

Luca blushed furiously. "What do you mean?" he stuttered.

"Well, boy. I might be old, but I'm not blind. I don't share the family's opinion. Alessandro is a good boy, even if he is a bit wild and rough. He has a good heart, believe me. He does not deserve to be beaten down on the streets." She rose slowly from her chair and groaned a bit. Luca took her bony hands to help her. It was a natural impulse because he felt great sympathy for the housekeeper of the Lucertola-family.

He followed her into the hall where she started to climb the staircase that winded up into the roof. Despite her age she was astonishingly quick. "We have a lift, but it's out of order", she explained, looking over her shoulder. "Matteo had it built; some stupid rattling thing of iron and wood." She seemed to grin and gathered up her long skirt. "But I prefer the staircase. It's keeping me fit."

Luca smiled sheepishly and rushed to follow her. Alessandro was still sleeping, though he seemed to have had bad dreams for he had pushed away the blanket. Anastasia took in the sight before she approached the bed and sat down. With a cloth that lay beside she dabbed the sweat from Alessandro's forehead and examined the cuts in his face. One eye was blackened and the cut at the corner of his lips could be clearly seen.

"That finger is broken", Luca explained quietly, "and some ribs bruised." Instantly he felt his own pain.

"And this?" Anastasia pointed to the cloth at his abdomen.

"Well, a contusion..."

Anastasia snorted disapprovingly. "Bastards", she mumbled. "Kicked him with a boot, yes? Poor boy." She looked at Luca, apparently knowing what was going on in his head. "It will heal soon, don't worry." She sighed though and took the cloth. "Bring me some cool water, will you?"

Luca rushed out.

"I have heard about Alessandro's decision", she said. They sat on the sofa in the farthest corner and talked quietly. "What a pity. Probably the old, old family of Gondi will die out now. Sandro is the last. But since he does not seem to love the girls...."

Luca didn't know how to answer. Probably it was his fault... What if he were to leave Sandro's life so that he would turn to the girls and have a normal life? The next second he suppressed a laugh. Surely Sandro had been gay before he met Luca.

"What are you grinning about?" Anastasia asked interested. She had provided some tramezzini and two pots of coffee.

"Well, I just thought the same. I mean, that it is pity... that he isn't interested in girls..."

Anastasia looked unconvinced . "You're kidding me. No one can change their spots. Sandro was looking at boys as long as I have known him." She poured another cup of coffee. "You know, it didn't matter if we spent our holidays at Fiesole or at the sea. He was always the prince of his friends. That's where he got his name. He was the Prince. And as he grew up, I knew his eyes didn't follow the girls in their small bikinis. No." A tiny smile appeared in her eyes. "His head followed the boys when they strutted along the shore in their small trunks, their adolescent bodies slim and legs graceful like a stork's; their movements awkward and clumsy. But his eyes followed them.. That there were girls in between was due to his growing up. Too much of the hormones." She winked at Luca and leaned back comfortably. "You don't seriously think that if you left him that he would marry afterwards?"

"Er... no"

"Good. You know, I'll tell you something. Do you remember the 'Monster of Florence'? You must have been little then. Anyhow", Her voice was suddenly small and old. "My son was the last victim."

Luca's face was a question mark. The so-called 'Monster of Florence' had killed straight couples over decades.

"The murderer had mistaken the couple as being a man and a woman. But my son had long, blond hair and he looked like a girl from behind."

Luca forgot to eat and slowly it dawned him. "He was gay?"

Anastasia nodded. "Walking with his boyfriend on the road up to Fiesole." She took his hand. "Believe me, I know how you feel. My son was a sunshine. He couldn't kill a fly. But at least he wasn't murdered for what he was." Her eyes found Alessandro's body now lying peacefully under the bedcover. "But this here was done for what Sandro is." Her head flung back. "When will you go to the police? I'm coming with you."

"Police?" Luca stuttered. He was sure that he couldn't manage that.

Anastasia's watery eyes looked expectantly and somewhat relentless.

"We can't leave him alone." Wouldn't his mother come to look for her son? "What about Signora Lucertola?" he asked shyly.

Anastasia shook her head. "Tell you what, I'll call the police. They will come and interview us. One thing that the old family's name should be good for."

Luca went to Sandro's bed and took his hand when he saw that his eyes were open. "You're awake?"

Alessandro nodded. "Yeah, what have you been whispering, there in the corner? Talking about me, eh?"

Luca, glad that Sandro was back to his old nature, smiled. "Sure. Talking about you. How are you? Have you pain?"

"Only when I laugh. Gosh, my balls feel like pulp. Have you looked to see if they are still there?"

"The doc said they will heal soon. Can you bear more of that ice?"

"For a while it's ok. I must look terrible!"

Luca shook his head and stroked Alessandro's hair. "You look fine as ever."

Alessandro grimaced. "I hadn't expected you to call my family", he growled. "But I'm all right with Anastasia." He took Luca's hand. "Did she tell mother?"

"I'm not sure but I doubt it."

"She wouldn't bother anyway."

Luca didn't want to argue with him, but he couldn't imagine that a mother wouldn't be bothered about the welfare of her son, but he kept his words to himself. "Well, Anastasia is going to call the police." He soothed the started Alessandro. "Calm down. It must be done. Do you want them to get away with this?"

Alessandro fell back into the pillows and held his ribs. "And I was looking forward to a hot night with you."

Luca's cheeks reddened. "Me too", he whispered. "Hurry up then and get well." He heard Anastasia return and planted a hasty kiss on Alessandro's lips, but Alessandro held his head and kissed him deeply.

With beet red face Luca passed Anastasia and went down to crush more ice.

It hadn't been easy to deal with the police's interrogation, but with the help of the resolute housekeeper it went politely and smoothly. No, he hadn't recognized any of them, yes, it had been three, no weapons except fists and boots and no, he wouldn't recognize them again.

Alessandro had fallen back to sleep and Luca had rung his parents and told them that he would eat out. He patiently endured his mother's arguments, but he remained strong. He didn't want to leave Sandro.

In the kitchen Anastasia had fixed them both pasta. Luca wondered why she didn't call Sandro's mother to tell her the news but he didn't dare to ask. He ate silently and felt Anastasia's eyes on him. "What do you think about Sandro's decision?" she asked suddenly. "He turns down twenty millions to be free."

Luca put down his fork. "That is the point. It's too much money to be turned down. But it's all settled." Anastasia rolled the last spaghetti around her fork. "Valentina will have the palazzo and the villa. And the money goes to Sandro. Matteo's brothers end up with nothing", she said almost triumphantly. "Valentina is severely alcohol-addicted. The absinthe makes her lose her mind. If she has to go into a hospital it might be that the houses will go to Sandro, too."

"But you'll have your money, yes?"

"Right, sunshine", Anastasia said cheerful, patting his hand. "Yes, but it's not about me, it's about Sandro. He's free, he still has the monthly salary and I'm sure Arrigo will provide money for support."

"You know them well."

"I do, sunshine. I do." She rose and put the empty plates together. "Go and look after Sandro, I'll take care of this here. Oh," she said, turning, "don't you have to go home? Your mother will worry."

Luca shook his head. No way he was going back.

"Signora?" he asked.

"Call me Anastasia please", she interrupted him.

Luca hesitated. "Well... Anastasia, thanks for being here. Sandro appreciates it too."

Anastasia smiled.

Luca had removed the ice-bag and was pleased to see that the swelling had subsided even more. There was still a nasty blue colour though. Anastasia had fixed Alessandro a meal when he was awake, though the pain killers made him so tired that he couldn't stay awake for very long. Luca was considering finally going home and prepared himself for a row with his parents.

"Fancy a dolce?" Anastasia asked him and he couldn't resist. Again both of them had retreated to the sofa in Alessandro's room. "Have you informed his mother?" Luca dared to finally ask but Anastasia shook her head. "She will know he's in good hands", she simply said.

"I've met her."

"Have you?" Anastasia said surprised. "When?"

"Couple of days ago." Luca breathed in deeply. "I've seen the grave."

Anastasia's fork sunk. "Nardo?" There was a minute of silence. "Sandro told you the story?"

"Well, he told me why he had died. And about... his parents."

"Sandro was little when it happened. I thought he wouldn't understand. But he did. What did he tell you?"

Luca's tongue squashed the soft Tiramisu on his palate and pondered what to tell her. "He told me very little", he said finally. "Actually not more than he was left dying alone." He lifted his head. "But that you were there. You and he. And that his parents didn't care."

A variety of emotions washed across Anastasia's face. "That's a short summary of all the pain." Her spoon scratched the empty plate. "Emilio was to be newly elected as mayor. He wouldn't endure a scandal." Anastasia snorted. "What ever that means. But a dying nephew he didn't need. Nardo disappeared from one day to the next. People were told he was studying in America."

Luca understood the craziness and illogical events. "Why was the mayor considered responsible for his dying nephew? I mean, did the people care?"

Anastasia looked at him. "Luca, they think AIDS is still the disease of the homosexuals. Nardo was not gay."

"No?"

"There you are, you put Nardo into the same drawer. He has AIDS so he must be homo-sexual."

Luca nodded slowly.

"Nardo was the same as Alessandro. The first prince. The crown prince. He wouldn't miss a party. He wouldn't miss on out a girl. Heaven only knew what he would do to satisfy his drive. And he was punished bitterly." She paused. "Pater Ridolfi thought it was a punishment from God for his excessive lifestyle. He called it the French disease, the French vice, like plague and yellow fever. Matteo threw him out of the house." She put aside the spoon. "Why do you think his uncles are so angry at Alessandro? He's a mirror of his older, dead brother. Only he is worse." She leaned closer. "Sandro is a homosexual", she whispered, "and that's the worst. It leads inevitably to death."

"But." Luca shook vehemently his head. "The people can't be that stupid anymore. They are well-informed, aren't they? They tolerate and accept."

Anastasia looked somewhat pitifully at him. "You would think that, sunshine. But if you look behind the façade... Florence is an enlightened town. Always had been. And yet..."

Instantly Luca thought of his brothers. Dante. Marcello. Giano. His father. Dante had openly offended him. Marcello confined himself to teasing him nastily. Giano had... well, Giano had said nothing. He searched the face of the older woman. He couldn't imagine talking openly like this with his mother.

"And yet the people are short-sighted. What they don't understand frightens them", Luca concluded.

Anastasia nodded briefly. "That what it is all about. Nardo had a personal nurse when the disease became noticeable , so they could hide him in the palazzo. Later he was brought to the hospital of the Loggia del Bigallo. The brotherhood of the white monks cared for him. To Valentina and Matteo he was dead. It was just me and little Sandro who saw him fading away, each day a little bit more." Her voice had become brittle and she seemed to be fighting tears. "Do you know what was the worst? Eyes that lose their sparkle, becoming dull and empty. The morphine made him say funny things and I'm sure he was without pain. But his eyes..."

Vigorously she wiped her face and asked in a completely different voice. "How old are you? Underage? You do know that Sandro will study at Pisa? I suggested one of the splendid Institutes at Florence, but Sandro wanted to go away to start a real degree course that would guarantee employment in a museum or at an institute for research." She shushed him with her bony hand. "I ask too much, I know. But if you had Sandro's mother as sole companion for a day you'd either start to talk to yourself or bombard the first one you meet with questions. Excuse me." She smiled uncertainly. "You aren't of age, are you."

Luca was hurt that he looked so young and not manly enough. "You'll grow old before you know", she said, winking at him. "No worry about your appearance. I said you're pretty boy."

Luca didn't ask what she thought about his and Sandro's friendship. Nor what would become of it when Sandro went away. Anastasia rose to remove the ice from Alessandro's lap. She was careful but he woke up. "I need to go now, Sandro", Luca said. "Parents will be angry."

Alessandro nodded, disappointed. "I'll stay with you." Anastasia patted his arm.

"That's not exactly who I'd like to have to cuddle with, Sia" Alessandro teased her, using her old name from the time when he was a baby. Anastasia threaten him with her forefinger.

"Perhaps I'll come back later", Luca called to him over Anastasia's shoulder and saw his eyes light up.

_______________________

 

10

________________________

At the kitchen table Luca found the newspaper whose last page told him that the so-called Prince of the lilies, Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola, had been beaten up last night in an alley near Santi Apostoli. He himself wasn't mentioned. Luca pulled a chair under his bottom and sat down. There was a relatively long article about the family. Luca wondered how the journalists had found out about the incident of last night. Had the police talked to the press?

His mother stood at the oven and pulled out home-make cakes. She was silent and Luca sensed a threatening thundercloud over his head. "Have you been out with the Prince?" she snapped out of the blue.

"Huh?" Luca looked up. Clarissa pointed to the newspaper. "The beating. Were you with him?" She placed the cakes upon a plate and then propped her arms upon the table. "You've been with him all the time lately. You could have been murdered!"

Luca laughed a bit too shrill. "Well, Mamma, I'm still alive. They did nothing to me." Except kicking me in the ribs with their boots and almost strangling me, he thought. Clarissa flashed at him with her blue eyes. "The newspaper doesn't say what it was about. Were you robbed?"

"No, I..."

The door flung open and his brothers entered the kitchen, coming in from work. "Ah, there's our little prince consort", Dante sneered. "Or the prince's flunkey, I should say."

Giano pushed him hard. "Stop that foolish babbling", he hissed. Dante looked at him completely astonished. He was bigger than Giano and bigger than Luca. Bigger and bulkier and stronger. Marcello took Dante's arm as if he knew what would follow.

"Basta!" Clarissa shouted. "What's the matter with you lot? I don't recognize you anymore." She rolled her eyes like an angry horse. "Dante! Giano! What is this quarrel about?"

"Well, that little queen of a Gondi-boy was beaten up last night, right?" Dante started. "Served him right. He and his boyfriend were making out on the streets." He snapped off his hand and parroted a queen, tiptoeing through the kitchen and swung an imaginary handbag. Marcello screamed but Clarissa slapped Dante furiously in his face. "Stop that." She wiped her hands at her apron. "You should go into the variety show if that's how you imagine a homosexual man is like."

Giano and Luca looked at each other, then at their mother.

"Hey, Mamma," Marcello chimed in, "why does it bother you?"

"And why does it bother you, eh?" she shouted back. "Madonna mia! What have I done to deserve such a flock of sheep! Couldn't I have a nice little girl, that would help me through all this, talking nice and sweet to me. but no! I have you on my plate. And this in four times over night! And a husband who doesn't care a flying fart about anything."

The brothers looked dumbfound, then all four of them burst into a peals of laughter. It didn't take long until Clarissa joined them, but her eyes were still furious. "Beware, ragazzi! I meant every single word of it."

Dante's disgusted look touched Luca. Despite his grinning face Luca knew that Dante had also meant every single word as he had said it. Luca shuddered when a sense of fear rose within him.

"Was it the Gondi-lad you've been with the whole time?" Giano asked when he followed Luca to his room. Luca nodded and opened the door.

"So, it's true what the newspaper said, yes? Were you hurt too?"

Luca turned to him. "Well, just a bruise. Sandro got it all."

"You were at Villa Kazar last night."

"How do you know, were you there too?"

"Should I sit here and wait until you come home?" Giano quipped.

"You're not my body guard." Luca was pissed. It was bad enough when Dante spied after him, but Giano too was way too much. "And what were you doing there, eh? Were you watching me?" A traitorous redness covered his face now. What had he seen? He searched his brother's, calm and handsome face. "Your secret's save with me", Giano said quietly, hiding his eyes.

"What secret?" Luca shouted, more out of surprise than in anger.

Giano shook his head. "You don't have to shout. Mother might innocently defend the diversity and freedom of mankind, but you don't have to lie to me, piccolino. How is he? Who's caring for him right now?"

"The housekeeper", Luca said softly and sat upon his bed. "I'd called her and she called the police."

"Police?" Giano sat beside him.

"Well, yes. The doc said I should report it to the police because of his injuries." He lifted his head. "Do you think I can return to him?"

Giano looked attentively into his face. "You've got it bad, haven't you." A small smile appeared around his mouth. "Alright, go when it's getting dark, I don't think anybody will notice."

Luca hesitated. Should he tell him everything? About Dante and his threats? About the drawing he had found?

Giano saw the emotions in his brother's face. He could understand what was going on in his head. The confusing muddle. And he worried as he thought about the time when he and the Gondi-lad would start their studying at Pisa. Would he be able to avoid him?

*

Anastasia had retired to her room when Luca arrived at the Palazzo Gondi. Alessandro lay comfortably in his bed, cushions stuffed behind his back , watching TV, an empty plate and glass beside him. He beamed when Luca entered his room. "I wasn't sure I could made it", he excused his late appearance.

"You're here", Alessandro said and patted the empty space on his bed. "Mother was pissed that I had got into trouble because of you", Luca said a bit breathless. "And Giano found out about us", he added.

"Found out what?" Alessandro pressed a button on the remote control and switched off the TV.

"Well, you and me."

Alessandro's eyes glistened. "And what does he think?"

"Seems to be alright." Luca detected a book on the bed. Masolino's diary. "You've been reading? Are you not too tired? How are you anyway?"

"Better. Though this," he stretched out his arm that now had a hard plaster cast covering his hand and wrist, "is annoying. The doc was here again. He was pleased though that the swelling has gone. But what about you? Let me see."

He rose to a sitting position, grimacing with the pain and lifted Luca's shirt. The bruises were blue-brown and covered the left side of Luca's chest. "Gosh, you should do something about that. There's an ointment laying on the nightstand that the doc left."

Luca fished for it, but Alessandro took it from his hand. "Lay back."

Luca hesitated, then he pulled off his shoes and crawled onto the bed, beside Alessandro who removed his shirt and started to apply the cool ointment. Luca moaned a bit. "It helps, believe me. What have you told the police?"

"I couldn't tell them much. Did you recognise one of them?"

"I'm not sure. Now, are you going to bed like this?" He pointed to Luca's jeans. "Off with them. Go on", he said, when Luca stopped at his pants. Sheepishly Luca pulled down his underwear and slid under the blankets. "Much better", Alessandro said satisfied, but Luca felt the covered abdomen by his side.

"Your balls still pulp?"

"Not really. I can feel them again." Alessandro grinned. He came closer and started to kiss Luca, though the movements caused both pain and his plastered hand was always in the way.

Unsatisfied Alessandro groaned with frustration. "When do you think this will be over? I mean, I was really looking forward to a hot night."

Luca sounded his pearly laugh again. "You can cuddle with me, isn't that enough?"

"No." Alessandro fell back and closed his eyes. "Would you read out loud to me?" He pulled out the book from under his buttocks. "Perhaps it will be easier then to sleep. I slept for the whole day and now I'm not tired."

Luca stroked his pale cheek and examined Alessandro's black eye. Despite all his injuries Sandro kept his good looks, at least for him. Sighing he finally carefully opened the book and turned the brittle pages.

"Budapest, Febbraio 1428

Tommaso and I had gone to Rome for the Jubilee. It was Holy Evening, and the start of the Anno Santo of 1423 was being celebrated. There was an indulgence to be gained. A confession with a Holy Communion afterwards for those who had visited the basilicas of San Pietro and San Paolo fifteen times. The only entrance to San Pietro was via the Angel's Bridge, and the pilgrims jostled that much that many of them fell into the Tiber's muddy waters, where they paddled helplessly and drowned along with their donkeys and carriages. The ways were treacherous and slippery from the horses and donkey's refuse, covered with cabbage, litter and rags. I covered my nose and mouth; Rome was a cloaca. The people oozed an unbearable stench of poverty and sickness while amongst them colourful and clean dressed gentlemen and ladies tried to force a way through the inferno.

Despite that pope Martin had ordered the enlarging of the gate through the Leonid wall we struggled, were pushed and hit, before we were carried to in front of the basilica, a plain, irregular place on whose farthest end the church stood, a facade with mosaics on golden ground. A nasty wind blew rain drops upon our heated faces, but Tommaso was laughing. He made the sign of the cross and I prayedsilently that we would gain release and blessing in front of the eyes of the Lord. Was he not praying the love on earth? The love between humans?

Cries echoed up to the cloudy sky, vanishing in the mists of drizzle that came down on the pilgrims. Many of them fell onto their knees and covered the way to the entrance of the church, crawling on the dirty sand and mud covered earth. Tommaso, strong as he was, made room for me and himself until we saw the tomb of San Pietro with high gates and twisted marble pillars. One altar had been built above the other so that nobody had access to the grave below.

A multi voiced singing started. A chant wafting through the cold room, breaking itself at the apses with Constantine's mosaics. I fixed my eyes on the lamb holding the cross. Fixing my eyes on the four rivers streaming to its hoofs. Saw the phoenix and the eagle, the bull and the angel.

People sobbed, their heads laying down in the dust, muttering words; others had thrown away their crutches and walking sticks, I saw missing limbs, wrapped in dirty, suppurating bandages, pockmarked faces, empty eye sockets, scabby noses and mouths. Figures carried on stretchers, moaning, not able to find peace. They all gathered in a long row, ready to give confession and receive revelation, health and the prospect of a new and better life. Well-dressed ones stood aside, waiting for the air, pregnant with illness, to been blown away, holding perfumed clothes in soft hands and I wondered from what heart complaint they had been plagued to come here to this heinous and blessed town of the representative of God.

Tommaso had bent his head too and I heard him silently mumbling, his strong hands folded and I did so as well. I prayed for absolution for this unholy alliance that connected myself with him. But was I ready to give it up? I glanced at Tommaso's red-brown shock of hair that hung over his ears, his dirty face and the moving, soft, enticing lips. I could not. Christ would understand and forgive.

We had gone as friends and became a couple by night. Everything was possible with him. He had shown me heaven. I craved for more and awaited each night with a feverish head that he knew to cool with a stroke of his hand. I could not give it up. I needed him like I needed air to live. If God was the omnipotent love then he had to understand. Was our love not worth living? Was it minor? Love is good. To love was everything we ought to do. And I loved.

We dismissed the pilgrimage hospices and went to stay instead of at a hay barn in the hills behind San Pietro. Tommaso could not bear to be parted on a stinky, shabby wooden bed in a room we had to share with dozens of stinky, shabby men.

Several times we were on the brink of discovery when the farmer came to look for his hay and even the Romans, depraved from their carnival, would have lashed us openly - or worse. But we both had been in a state of fever where the single thought did not count. Just the two of us.

We spent the days walking alternating from San Pietro to San Paolo that meant a path across the town from west to east, behind the town walls, following the way all popes had to go from the grave of Pietro the fisherman to the Pope's own church, the Lateran, crossing Via Merulana and the ancient church of San Clemente.

We wandered through streets, corners, alleys, staircases. Backyards with urns, ivy and altars for the Lari, the good Gods of the houses. We were driven away by a procession of pushing, rubbing, screaming and laughing, row of beggars in rags, rising their weak hands, a bowl with coins beside them until everything started anew.

I made sketches for my tempera painting of San Giovanni and San Martino and Tommaso knew how to improve them. San Giovanni now looked like his Apostle Paolo he was about to finish for the Pisan church. My depicting of figures remained the same though, but Tommaso found a way to teach me how my objects could gain volume and a sense of perspective to the spectators, but what did I know about perspective? Now he was my model and I saw the heaviness of a well built young man and transferred it into my painting.

I tremble. The candle has burnt down to a tiny stump. The memory...I could not bear to be without him. But I had to. Tommaso's patron would send him to Pisa to finish his polyptych for the altar of the Chiesa del Carmine. Ser Giuliano di Colino degli Scalzi was a wealthy man and we needed the money. After our happy return from Rome to our neat and tidy hometown we had to part. Tommaso's brother Giovanni had moved to Via dei Servi and came into possession of a part of a workshop at the Badia, but he insisted of going to Pisa with his brother. I had a very bad feeling when I watched them go."

Alessandro breathed silently. His head had sunk aside and rested on his shoulder. Luca closed the book, put it aside and switched off the light. He seemed to have a bitter taste in his mouth from Masolino's descriptions of a medieval Rome. He had been to the capital before, when he and Giano had accompanied his father to the Holy Year of 2000, but what a difference it had made to Masolino's descriptions. Surely the town had been stuffed with pilgrims but they came now by car, bus, train and airplane. And the prices were double what they were at Florence and they didn't have to visit the churches fifteen times on fifteen different days. But all in all he had been happy to return home; Rome was much too big and too different for his taste.

He snuggled closer to the sleeping body and ignored the pain in his ribs. When Alessandro's sharp tongue was slumbering, Luca felt protected, while by daylight he didn't know exactly what to think about him. On one side he was glad to have him at his side, while at other times Luca thought that he just used him for a private revenge against his family. He was like his name: Lizard. A lizard will lose its tail to be free as soon someone grabs it.

_______________________

 

11

_______________________

It was a radiant Sunday-morning one week after the incident. Alessandro had recovered so far that he was able to go out without having pain, just a green-yellowish ring around his eye and the plaster around his hand reminded of the assault. Anastasia had gone back to Fiesole to care for Alessandro's mother. The police still had not got any further in their investigation of the assault.

Luca took Alessandro's good hand and walked with him to the viewpoint that overlooked their hometown.

"Are you happy now?" he asked. "Now, that you're free of the stupid will?"

"Uncle Arrigo has set up a family meeting. Without mother. I pretty well know what he's got in mind. Get her delivered to the hospital and gain the palazzi for himself."

"And the rest of your family? Can't you stop this?"

"Well, it means I would have to marry and have a son to get the money, so what is the use for me?" Alessandro protected his eyes with sunglasses.

The sun burnt down on the bare buttocks of the fallen, torch-holding God. The green-golden lizard rushed from its favourite place as soon as it heard footsteps coming closer and rushed into a crack of stone.

Luca knelt down and Alessandro watched with amusement. "I told you once to stroke the real thing instead of the cold stone, but that first time you turned me down."

Luca grinned up at him. "As an upcoming tourist guide you can surely explain what this is all about, can't you?"

"Sure I can." Alessandro sat carefully down on the sandy way and folded his legs. "Well, at least I can tell you my personal version of it. You know that the Gods aren't dead just because they have vanished from the believers mind", he said light-heartedly; more joking than serious. Luca knew that Sandro was a non-believer, thus he wouldn't be serious about the true appearance of God or the Gods that had populated the earth before the Christian God had been accepted by a good part of the world. To him they were fairy tales, and should have a place in the book of fairy tales of humankind. Nothing more. "Well, at the time of the Roman Empire the soldiers brought home the idea of a new God called Mithras, the sun-god. He was a sort of Sol, the Roman God of the sun, who was just an adaptation of the Greek God Helios, and as we know that the Romans were mighty, but completely without fantasy, they liked to take over the ideas and legends of all the folks and tribes they had conquered. As they did with the Persian sun god Mithras who became very popular among the soldiers. The Persians told Mithras' story that he was born in a cave or a stable on the 24th of December and of his ascent to heaven in his thirty-third year of life."

"But..." Luca started.

"Right. That's the same as we are told about Jesus Christ. Bear in mind though that the Mithras legend is much, much older. Well," Alessandro looked down and absentmindedly wiped sand from the rain washed holes in the God's bum, "there's also the idea of the trinity: Mithras, Cautes and Cautopates, like God the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost. Then there's a third coincidence ", Alessandro bent his forefinger, "the sacrifice of his own blood during the initiation of a new follower. The formula was exactly the same, "and you made us immortal by this shed blood". There's the sign of the cross, burnt into the forehead and the idea of the baptism. During the initiation they have cold water poured on them. Then there's the mutual supper with Apollo and the elements of death and ascension."

Luca stared pretty disbelieving. "Well, so then all of the bible is just a fake? I mean, it's just a gathering and mixture of the ideas of foreign cults?"

"Sort of, yes. And why not. Different cultures meet and stimulate each other. Take the best of it, shake a bit and ergo, you'll have a new creation." He grinned. "You just shouldn't take it too seriously."

Luca pondered about the consequences. "So, it means in the end that Jesus didn't live? That it is just a tale?"

"Sure Jesus lived", Alessandro hastened to answer. "But everything else is just legend. Why do you think we don't have a fixed date for his death and ascension? Because nobody had noted the date? No, because the catholic church built their beliefs on the beliefs of ancient times to make them forget. We still follow the moon in Spring as the people did when they welcomed Spring and celebrated the end of the long, hard winter, that's all."

"Yeah", Luca said hesitating. "And... so what is this now? Mithras in a catholic church yard?"

"Perhaps. No. Of course not. It's one of his followers. Cautopates, the man with the bent torch, symbolising sundown, or death. Mithras followers were the signs of sunrise and sundown. It's simple."

Alessandro unfolded his legs, moaned a bit and tried to get to his feet. Luca helped him. "You know, it's an interesting myth, but Masolino had no idea of it when he and Masaccio were painting at San Clemente in Rome", he said mysteriously. "That's where his diary ends. He painted the chapel, until water broke in and they found a mithraeum deep down under the earth. At least that's what I suppose."

"A what?"

"A mithraeum. That's the subterranean temple for the cult of Mithras, very popular in the emperor's time until the Christian emperors erased them all. Well, some of them they had forgotten, like the one under San Clemente."

Luca looked as if it was all Greek to him and Alessandro laughed. "I have great plans", he said then more seriously.

"I've been to Rome too", Luca said excitedly. "For the Holy Year, you know."

"Did you see the pope then?"

"Yes, waving from his window. It meant a lot to father."

"And to you?" Alessandro took Luca's hand again and started to go. Luca noticed it was in the direction of Sandro's family tomb.

"It was impressive." Luca quickened his pace, turned a corner and entered the dark, gloomy and abandoned tomb where they had met together for the first time. Without a word he pressed his mouth upon Alessandro's and opened his lips with his tongue. Sandro's balls had healed though they were still very sensitive, so he avoided any pressure on them, but he found the way to his rising penis and chuckled. "Had feared that wouldn't work anymore, eh?" he heard Sandro's voice near his ear; felt him tugging at his shirt and jeans, before he fell with him onto the earth upon a heap of dry grass. Half undressed both had found release when they heard footsteps on the sandy way outside. They held their breath until they had passed.

Alessandro sighed and Luca seemed to feel him tremble slightly. Surprised he peered into his face, and Alessandro understood the silent question. He shook his head. "I seem to become paranoid when I hear footsteps behind me", he said half-laughing, but his blue eyes remained serious. "Shit", he hissed. "I don't want this." He struggled to his feet, careful with his hand. Luca wiped the white stains from their jeans.

"Useless coppers still can't find out who it was", Alessandro spat.

Luca was beside him, then rushed to the entrance and peered out. "You know, I thought", he said when the coast was clear, "that you did think it was your buddies, right? Have you seen them again?"

"No." Alessandro said muffled. Luca thought that they must be fine friends when they knew Sandro ill but had never made a visit and he knew that Sandro was thinking the same.

"I don't care."

Luca looked at him. "Don't stare at me", Alessandro snapped. "I don't need them. And anyway, if you think it was them..."

"Perhaps it wasn't. I mean, my brother was furious enough..."

Alessandro stopped in his tracks. "Your brother? The bulky one.... Dante?" He shook his head. "He wouldn't attack you, would he?"

Luca was silent. The attack was meant for Sandro, not him, despite the violence he had experienced too.

"And what about the other two then?"

Luca shrugged his shoulders. He pulled Sandro along, away from the cemetery until they stood in front of the church of San Miniato, absorbing the burning sunbeams and the silent surroundings, interrupted only by the twittering of birds. No tourists were here at the mid-morning hour, just a monk with a black and white habit who passed behind them with long, regular steps.

"I'll be back for the Gioco", Alessandro said out of the blue. "Since we both missed the Spring-celebration at Cascine..."

Luca turned surprised. Yes, they had both missed the cricket festivity in the park, the annual big party of the town, but the Gioco took place on the day of the town patron, in late June. Alessandro would be in Pisa then. "What do you mean, return?"

"Well, even Michelangelo returned home that day. Every time", Alessandro said, suddenly grinning.

"But surely not to attend the Gioco."

"'The football match is a public match between two non-mounted teams of young people without weapons, who try, purely for pleasure, to push an air-filled medium sized ball behind the opposing finish line, to gain honour'", Alessandro quoted with raised eye brows. "I've heard your brother will be playing?" Alessandro said with studied unconcern.

"Dante and Marcello, yes. They played last year too." He still pierced Sandro's eyes. "Does this mean you want to play this year? I mean, come on, you're not in the condition..."

"What condition?" Alessandro snapped. "I don't look like a rugby-player but I'm good enough for football."

Luca turned completely to him and took his shoulders. "You're not gonna play, you hear me? They'll make pulp of you."

Alessandro laughed unkindly. "We'll see."

Luca shook his head disbelievingly. "Calcio in Costume" was a game that was played throughout the centuries, three times a year, on the large piazza of Santa Croce and accompanied by a middle-ages style street-party, which was fine, except that the game was brutal and was mostly played by the boxers and wrestlers of all of the four quarters of the town. Luca was worried. If Alessandro wanted to attend he was in danger. "You must be mad!" he insisted. "You can't do this." He shook him, but Alessandro stepped back, his face unreadable. "Is this one of your noble attitudes? Not to lose face? Hey," Luca shook him again. "This is not the middle-ages anymore. You don't have to protect the name of your family."

Alessandro raised his eyebrows again and looked coolly at Luca. "It is not? I'm pretty sure it is. Your brothers will protect your name and your reputation. I will protect mine."

Luca rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky. But then.... probably Sandro wouldn't get holidays from his university. Perhaps he would be so busy with his study that he would forget. Forget Florence, the Gioco and ... Luca. Suddenly weak, his arms fell and he turned his back on Alessandro. He stood so for a while before he felt arms wrapping around his upper body and a soft voice whispering into his ear "I won't forget the hours we've had, gioia. Pisa isn't the end of the world."

Luca didn't move.

* * * * *

Luca cursed and fished for the alarm clock to stop it. What a nasty sound that early Monday morning. He yawned but jumped out of his bed; suddenly electrified. This was the first day of his apprenticeship. He rushed across the hall and hammered on the closed bathroom door. "Hurry up whoever is in there!"

Marcello abruptly opened the door and Luca ducked away before it hit his head. "It's you", his brother said sleepily. "What on earth..." then it dawned on him. "Ah," he said grinning broadly. "First day. Welcome to the daily grind." Marcello trotted along to his room. Involuntarily Luca's eyes followed Marcello's large body; he examined his broad, naked shoulders and the play of muscles and wondered what they could do to Alessandro's lithe body. Then he vanished into the bathroom.

The breakfast table was laid and a scent of baked waffles filled the kitchen. Clarissa stroked his combed blond hair lovingly and treated him like a boy on his first day at school. Luca felt awkward. He had brought the old tools of his grandfather that he had been given for his birthday, but his father had growled to him to keep them at home. "You can work with them when you've learnt the technique", he had said, slurping his chicory-coffee. "And leave your stone at home, son. No need for others to see it."

Luca was disappointed. But then he thought that first he had to learn a lot before he could work Sandro's Lapis Lazuli. He knew what he wanted to do with it. A lizard. And a lion's head perhaps.

There was silence at the table, until the brothers and Niccolò took their provisions and their tools and Luca felt his father's heavy hand on his shoulder. He followed them, saw Dante and Marcello taking their bicycles but he remained at Niccolò’s side and started to march through the town, passing the back of Palazzo Vecchio, the cathedral and the Accademia until they turned into Via Alfani, an old Renaissance palazzo with the inconspicuous plate 'Opificio delle Pietre Dure - museo e scuola'.

"Ciao, Niccolò!" greeted several workers, some of them already dressed in grey overalls with briefcases, portfolios and bags under their arms, streaming through the entrance, while Luca still hesitated. Somehow the importance of this work made him shy. What if he wasn't good enough to learn? That was his biggest fear. What if his father, the leader of the stone cutters, was disappointed with him?

Niccolò though seemed to sense his son's apprehension. He patted his shoulder and forced him into the entrance hall. "Don't be afraid, son. Nothing's going to harm you. Nothing to be worried about." Niccolò’s composed statement seemed to be contrived, though it soothed Luca. Straight on were the show rooms for visitors and the museum with the displayed work, examples of used stones and materials, with copies of works of art that the museum had restored. This institute was alongside the Roman institute for restoration; the biggest and most important workshop in Italy. It received objects from all over the world for treatment and its employees were the busiest in the whole of Italy.

Luca felt himself shoved up a staircase into a wide room under the roof with many desks and chairs, that led into another room full of work benches and showcases hanging on the walls. He felt his heartbeat going faster. Several young men and women waited like him, eyeing each other for familiar faces. He saw here and there one that he had seen before, but didn't know their names.

"Have to leave you, son", Niccolò’s voice sounded next to him. "I'll come looking for you after, I promise. Break is at one, so we shall meet then." He gave him an encouraging smile and Luca was left to a short man with a silver half-spectacles, a blue smock over his short legs, a rim of silver hair around his round skull. He rocked on his toes, back and forth and had folded his arms behind his back. "Come closer ragazzi", he shouted, while everybody was pushing through the door, "and have a seat."

Luca sat down on the next best chair and laid his bag at his feet. While he was listening to Dr Coppo Travisero's treatise about the foundation of the institute, its importance and its glorious successes in restoration and creation Luca's eyes wandered through the room. He counted nineteen freshmen, most of them were lads of his age who looked as awkwardly around as he did himself. He listened to the explanation of the several departments - restorations of clothes, of wooden material, of paintings - when Coppo finally started to explain the work of stone inlays, this was department Luca had chosen to learn if he was good enough. It was the most masterful of all of the departments, he knew that very well.

He followed Coppo into the next room, stood excitedly in front of the showcases and examined the stones of achat, porphyry, diorite, obsidian, onyx, alabaster and carneol and tried to absorb as much as he could.

"Principal current interventions are a basin of oriental alabaster, Roman workmanship from the Boboli gardens", Coppo explained, "for which we need the exact same alabaster to replace the cracks and missing pieces. We need the alabaster fiorito, from Asia Minore, not the one we usually use from the area around Volterra." Coppo pressed his lips and seemed to grin. "But later more about the special classification of the stones." He rocked again on his toes. "First we'll start with a tour around the museo." He indicated to the crowd to follow, down the staircase and into the museum that was still closed for visitors.

"Aren't you the boyfriend of Alessandro Gondi?" a boy next to him squeezed out between closed lips while he pretended to look at a bouquet of flowers made of colourful stone.

Luca jumped and stared at him. He didn't know what to say. "I'm his friend, yes", he finally said.

"Was beaten up lately, eh? It was all over the place."

"Er..."

"Raniero", the boy said. His eyes had an unhealthy yellow-brown colour which matched the colour of his hair. "Friend of mine said you follow him like a little lapdog", he smirked. Coppo hissed in their direction but continued with his explanations.

Luca stepped away and looked at a vase of rock crystal. "The department for restorations of mobile paintings started the Masolino-Masaccio project in collaboration with the Museum of Fine Arts of Philadelphia and the National Gallery of London", Coppo said over the heads of the pupils, pointing to a copy of a fresco of the Brancacci chapel, showing the Expulsion of Adam and Eve opposite to the Fall of Man. Luca could tell who painted what, because he recognised Masaccio's explicit search for a new, plastic energy through his figures which gave a strong sense of spatial depth.

"Masaccio concentrated the basis of his naturalistic revolution: space seen through the laws of perspective, light and shade to bring bodies into relief, and his deep emotive intensity." Coppo made an effective pause. "The great Michelangelo said that a good painting has to be like a good sculpture: fluid. Three-dimensional. This is what we try to gain with our stone-inlays. While we sort out the suitable stones from quality and above all colour, we give our mosaic-intarsia three-dimensionality so that the viewer comprehends it as something he can grab, turn and see from all three sides."

He looked over his half-moon spectacles into the face of each new pupil. When his look fell on Luca's face a spark of recognition appeared. "Break", he said and approached Luca. "We'll meet in the class room at 2 pm." The pupils scattered in all directions.

"Luca Montori?" Coppo asked and put his arm around Luca's shoulder. "Glad to welcome you to our institute. Your father is extraordinarily." Again an inquiring look from over the spectacles. "You'll have to learn well. Was it your choice to join us?"

"Yes.... Professore", Luca added shy.

"It's just Coppo", Coppo answered friendly. "I'm an old friend of your dad." He padded Luca's shoulder and set him free. "But this doesn't mean that you're getting preferential treatment, sonny. Want to join us at the cantina?"

When Luca exited the museum at five, he saw Alessandro on the other side of the street, leaning nonchalantly against his motorbike. Luca felt a push in his side "He IS your boyfriend", he heard Raniero, the boy with the yellow-brown, inflamed eyes whispering into his ear. He saw his salacious grin and blushed. At the same time he was angry at himself and pushed Raniero back. "Not your concern", he hissed and bravely crossed the street.

"Luca!"

Luca turned and saw Dante and Marcello standing by their bicycles. "Going to go home?" He saw how Dante threw a nasty look at Sandro; that it was returned.

"No, go on. I have an appointment", he shouted.

"A date!" Raniero answered, likewise shouting for everybody to hear. Pleased Luca saw Raniero receive a blow to his head from a lad that was a half head larger and saw Raniero clenching his fists.

"Trouble?" Alessandro asked when Luca had arrived at him. He was still staring into Dante's face. "You could be right. His build could suit."

"What build?"

"Of the bastards that attacked us."

"Oh come on, leave it." Luca strapped his bag onto the trunk and sat behind Alessandro upon the motorbike. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you like."

"They've started a Masolino-Masaccio project, did you know?" Luca said instead of answering.

"No, really? What is it?"

"Don't know. I'll ask father. Let's celebrate my first day." Luca wrapped his arms around Alessandro's belly and didn't care about the stares anymore.

____________________

 

12

______________________

Padre Castruccio sat relaxed in the chair that the notary had offered him. Stefano Fergola, notary and lawyer of the Gondi-family, had invited the Gondi family to his home. He licked his lips and put his glasses upon his nose. "Well," he looked around. Madama Gondi-Lucertola was missing, but that was what today was about.

"I have here a hand-written letter from Valentina di Gondi-Lucertola, telling me that her brother-in-law will take over her matters concerning the inheritance of her late husband. She will retire to a hospital for a while to cure her several ... health matters."

"But that's not what this is about", Padre Castruccio chimed in with a high, grating voice. "I take it from your letter of the 22nd of May that it is the Order of the Dominican Church that will take over the inheritance." He shot a malicious glance at Alessandro. "Since the other condition was not fulfilled, and the real heir dismissed his inheritance, it was us who gained it."

"Yes, yes." The notary chose his next words carefully. "But you know, that the main heirs are Matteo's wife and their son Alessandro."

"That is not correct", Padre Castruccio interrupted the notary once more. "Our lawyers have told me if the heir turns down the inheritance then it falls back to the second choice. So", he swung his arm, "this is obviously the case."

"You have heard nothing", Arrigo said sharp. "I can't remember you being present at the opening of the will." His brother Emilio nodded.

"Signor Fergola", the padre turned to the notary. "Do you have a private minute for me?" He had already risen from his chair and his dark eyes were narrowed to slits. The notary hesitated for a moment, then followed the padre into the hall, and the dining corner where both took seats. "Well, Signor Fergola", the padre started, "the matter is this…”

Fergola examined the man opposite him. He was reminded by him of the haggard Dominican monk named Savonarola who had haunted the town five hundred years ago. He had the same big, bent nose and the strong chin, and in his eyes burnt the same fever that indicated that he'd stop at nothing.

"You surely know what this amount of money would mean for the charity of Christ. And I am convinced that it was a sign from God." Castruccio put his fingertips together. "So, I would like to present you an offer. As the lawyer of the family and owner of the original last will you are in the position to read the will correctly, aren’t you. Do you agree that Alessandro Gondi is willing to turn down his father’s inheritance? Let’s face it, Signor, the Gondis are morally corrupted and the last offspring follows a dissolute, unhealthy, perverted lifestyle. He will never marry.”

Fergola didn't move. He had put on his best unreadable lawyer’s face and listened.

"My question is whether you could force his official decision. Of course it would not be to your disadvantage."

Stefano Fergola leaned forward a bit. "How am I supposed to understand that, padre?"

"Well, I know you are not as rich as a lawyer can be. Although the Florentines are quarrellers and argue about the last egg", a small grin curled Castruccio's lips and he looked like a cat who had found the cream.

"You want to offer me money, padre?"

Castruccio made an uncertain movement with his hand but continued to stare slyly.

"You offer me money to persuade Alessandro to turn down his inheritance so it would fall to you and your order, is that correct?"

"Correct."

"How much?"

"Well, five percent?"

Fergola calculated quickly in his head. If he started from twenty million all in all.... his mind swirled for a moment. Then he felt the lurking, burning eyes and tightened his body. "You forgot one thing, padre", he said slowly. "We cannot know how Alessandro will develop. Though he has dismissed his inheritance there is the possibility that he will marry and become a father within the next few years. And then it is for him to fight for his inheritance again, this is for sure. And he will win, because this was the absolutely last will of his father." He paused and waited for an reaction. Wrinkles appeared on the padre's forehead.

"I'll suggest to you something different", Fergola continued. "If Alessandro hasn't got a son within three years - his 21st birthday - the inheritance falls back to you; until then it belongs to Valentina Gondi-Lucertola and her son Alessandro. The supervision of it goes to her brother-in-law Arrigo. You will be informed about each step where the money is going. We can put this down in writing instantly, padre." He rose.

Padre Castruccio almost jumped from his chair, looking insulted and indignant.

"Well, padre. My father worked for the Gondi-family, and his father before. Loyalty is the first sign of a good lawyer, don't you agree, padre?"

Padre Castruccio sailed out of the room, his long, black habit billowed around his legs. With feigned equanimity he took his seat again, next to the family while the notary Fergola explained the agreement. Arrigo and Emilio grinned satisfied, only Alessandro was sort of flabbergasted. He hadn't thought that along with his mother's inheritance would come money for him as well, a reasonable part of it at least each month, but he listened to Fergola's explanation. In his thoughts he pictured a celebration for today.

Out of the house he entered the next tabaccheriaand bought the Quir, a bimonthly gay and lesbian magazine to find out what had been happening. "Satisfied?" he heard a voice behind him and startled shut the magazine. His uncle Arrigo had followed him. He bit a chunk off his new bought cigar and eyed the picture on the magazine in Alessandro's hand. A vein on his temple started to pulsate. "Are you still into this shit?" he growled. "Didn’t you understand Fergola's agreement? If you'll have a son the money is all ours."

Alessandro swallowed. "But we do have it already", he said uncertainly. Arrigo laughed nastily. "Yeah, sure. But the clause of Fergola's agreement doesn't allow us to use it to our liking. Three years it is on ice so to speak." He pulled his nephew out of the tobacco shop and stood with him upon the small pavement, where they were pushed by people in their way , tourists and workers.

"The Dominicans are mighty, son", Arrigo whispered forcefully, "and they have powerful lawyers, Fergola will look like a wimp in comparison, believe me. They will appeal against the last will and fight until the Constitutional Court to get their rights. Unless you'll have a son." Arrigo's pitch-black eyes pierced Alessandro's body. "Am I asking too much, eh?" He put an arm around his nephew and started to walk with him. "Listen, if you don't want to lay a girl we have other possibilities."

"You mean artificial insemination?" Alessandro spoke out, and Arrigo shushed him. "Of course."

"But I still have to marry."

"Madonna! We'll find a girl for you, I'll take care of that."

Alessandro closed his eyes and clutched the magazine in his fist. His uncle's hand weighed heavy on his shoulder. He followed him to a little espresso bar, felt himself pressed upon a stool and waited for the double espresso his uncle ordered a minute later.

"Listen, Alessandro. You owe your family. You are the last of us. If you fulfil the last wish of your father you will be free afterwards. I don't care about your ... likings. Do what you want. But I won't watch our money going into the greedy hands of the Dominican monks. You know that our family was always Ghibellini and had nothing to do with those preaching scoundrels."

Alessandro watched his uncle slurping his hot coffee. Absentmindedly he poured sugar into his own and stirred.

"Fergola has done his best. If the last will stood the money would go straight to the monks. Now it looks as if we have a good chance to get it back, despite your dismissal. The offer is still there, thanks to Fergola."

"Does this mean we can't spend the money?"

"Of course we can. But we have to disclose what we use it for."

Alessandro burnt his tongue on the hot coffee. "And if I do what you want me to do... you'll leave me in peace, doing what I want to do? Studying and having my own lifestyle?"

Arrigo nodded.

He was the last Gondi, Alessandro thought. That was for certain. And blood was thicker than water.

"You'll get the twenty million and more if you want. But remember the family bonds. Let's do it like in the old days."

"Alright then." Alessandro heard himself saying. "You'll take care of the... agreement and I will try to do my best." Seeing Arrigo's face beaming he felt as if he had sold his soul. The magazine in his lap was heavy. But one sacrifice wasn't too much. Was it?

*

Alessandro held the microphone and tried to follow the lines on the teleprompter. He sang, roaring with Gloria Estefan, loud but out of tune but he didn't care, nor did the others care, and they cheered him until Alessandro broke into laughter, jumped from the stage and plopped upon the stool next to Luca.

On the video wall flickered music videos, alternating with soft porn. Luca leaned against an artificial pink flamingo where the pub on the top floor of the Tabasco Disco got its name from and grinned. Alessandro emptied his cocktail glass and pulled Luca from his seat, downstairs to the disco , flirting with a few guys as they passed them. Luca felt a stab of jealousy, though he was proud that it was him, Sandro was with.

The bandage around his hand gleamed white in the blue light; Alessandro was glad that the plaster had gone, but then his eyes met Nino, one of his buddies and next to him the rest of his so-called friends. Nino approached him while he was darting wary looks at Luca. "You have been ill, I've heard?" he asked in passing, holding a glass of whisky.

"Yeah, and you stronzos never showed up", Alessandro cut him short. He saw Nino eyeing Luca curiously and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Luca stiffened.

"What you're doing with the little fag here?"

Alessandro looked innocently around. "What fag?" Then he looked at Luca and said "Sorry, buddy, but those dumkin call everyone a fag."

Nino laughed artificially and drank from his glass. Then he wiped his mouth. "Well, seems you survived."

Alessandro pulled Luca with him without saying a word.

"I'll drive", Luca said outside, breathing the fresh air. It was a quarter to 2 am, but the streets weren't empty. Couples were passing by and late tourists, coming from a theatre or opera performance, or simply enjoying the sight of the illuminated buildings by night.

"You can't drive a bike", Alessandro snapped.

"Sure I can. Giano taught me." Although his brother didn't have a motorbike, one of his friends had and Luca had driven it occasionally. "You've had too much." Without ado Luca sat upon the bike and kicked the pedal.

Finally Alessandro crept behind him and wrapped his arms around Luca's belly. "Avanti!" he shouted and the bike jumped forward and swayed through the streets before Luca got a grip on it.

Alessandro laughed behind his back and tried to balance the bike with his legs. "You think your friend knows everything about us?" Luca asked, while they were driving slowly forward.

"I don't care", he shouted. "Watch out!" Luca had just missed the post on the street that stopped cars entering the road. The bike lurched around and came to a halt in front of the Lizard-Tower. Luca wiped the sweat from his forehead and waited for Alessandro to open the heavy bronze door that led into the yard. He drove the machine in and stepped off.

"How was it?" he beamed.

"Stupendous", Alessandro grinned, took Luca's hand and ran with him all the way upstairs to under the roof where he started to remove Luca's clothes as soon as they had shut the door. "Geez, what is that?" Luca asked when his fingers caressed Alessandro's buttocks and found a hard, plastic thing, sticking out of his hole. Completely puzzled Luca stared but Alessandro just laughed.

"Come on, I needed some pleasure during the time we were apart."

"When we were apart?"

Alessandro kicked off his shoes. "When you didn't sleep with me", he accentuated, hiding his slurring, tipsy mumble.

"It wasn't my fault", Luca protested, "mother wouldn't let me come."

"I know, I know, gioia. But now you're here and can replace this plastic thing with your wonderful satin, warm, hard .... thing." He laughed and let himself fall onto the bed, arms and legs stretched out, his erection nestled over his belly, while Luca still felt irritated. But Alessandro's laughter was infectious, and so Luca jumped up beside him. "You sure are a randy slut, aren't you. Doesn't that hurt?"

"Hurt? No. I had a hard-on all the time, that's all."

Luca's pearly laughter filled the room.

Alessandro hadn't told Luca about Fergola's agreement. Well, he hadn't told him the complete truth. Now, as he was holding Luca, both laying on their sides with his penis still buried between Luca's butt cheeks, he thought it a mistake. But he didn't want any ramblings or reproaches. Although he had given his word to Arrigo, he was still unsure what to do. Was it really up to him to save the family's money? It was clear he had to save the family's name though. Slowly he caressed Luca's arm and entwined his hand with his own. Luca was a pleasure while they were together, but did it have a future? No. Alessandro knew himself too well as to be certain he could live like a monk for four years until he had finished his study. And he wouldn't demand it of Luca.

Luca clenched his muscles and Alessandro jumped a bit. He heard the low pearly laughter he had fallen in love with. Just one more week and they would part. And what then would follow?

________________________

 

13

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Three days later Luca entered the Opificio workshop and saw a new lad standing in the way. He passed him, wished him a good morning and sat at his table which he shared with two others. The guy stood until Coppo Travisero arrived and rushed him to the free seat opposite Luca.

Luca smiled and made a little room for him. "Missed the first days?" he asked.

The guy's dark-blue eyes widened. "I've been in hospital. Tonsils."

"Ouch."

"Tristano", the guy said. He had blond hair like Luca. Sun-kissed, his mother would say, because it was golden at the parting.

"Luca."

At their places lay little bowls with different kind of stones, all marked with little tags describing the contents.

"This is an example of our extensive stock of antique marbles and rare stones like hard stones or semi precious stones", Coppo started to explain. He took one stone from a bowl and held it high in the air. "This is Imperial Egyptian Porphyry. We call it Porfido rosso. It has similarity to the porphyry that is used at several churches in our town, though it was mined from quarries in Tuscany." He looked around. "Now who of you can tell me which churches it was used for?"

Luca was reluctant though of course he knew the answer. "For Giotto's Campanile", said one, "for the facade of the cathedral", "for San Miniato", and each time Coppo nodded. "Fine. Of course it was used for the Baptistery too. I'd like you to learn the differences. This one here has a finer structure and is a shade darker than our porphyry so that it resembles a fresh slice of roast beef." Coppo grinned, and took a stone from the second bowl. "Serpentine", he said. "This dark green example was used for the multicoloured facades of the same buildings you have mentioned before. White, green and red, these are our national colours. And this," he lifted another stone, "is Nero Antico, that is quarried in Belgium, thus it is commonly called Belgian Black."

Luca stared at his bowls and grabbed a blue stone, Lapis Lazuli as he knew. It was a small stone with sharp, white edges, though the fractured surfaces had a deep, vivid blue. While Coppo was musing about Antique Alabaster, Malachite and Giallo Antico Luca was watching the new guy opposite him.

"Have I missed a lot?" he whispered.

"Well, we are still beginning. Today we start with the different kinds of stones. You missed the grand tour."

"My family has a carpenter's workshop", Tristano explained later at the cantina. "I started to carve figures from wood and my grandpa said that I'm talented. He has a stand at the flea market with all kind of antiques, both fakes and genuine. The entrance exam was really heavy, wasn't it."

"Yeah." Luca answered. Though for him it was easy. He just hoped that it wasn't his father's influence that gained him the place for his apprenticeship. Looking into Tristano's eyes he thought them like two plates of Lapis Lazuli and he had to grin at the comparison.

"And your family?"

Luca was reluctant to speak. "My mother's at home but the rest of the family works here."

"Here?" Tristano asked excited. "Stone cutters?"

"Well, yes, my brothers. But my father is the master of them. He works the stones into marquetry. You know," Luca leaned over, suddenly engaged, "my family worked on the chapel of Principes at San Lorenzo. The Medici-burial place, you know it."

"Yes, I know it!" Tristano's eyes sparkled. "Wow. So you're famous, yes?"

Luca laughed. "Not me."

"Not yet!"

Luca grinned at him and his enthusiasm. "Look, there he is." Tristano followed Luca's finger and saw a stout man with dishevelled, black hair, accompanied by two guys that looked similar though a head taller. "My brothers", Luca explained. He caught a nasty look from Dante, and saw his eyes scurrying over Tristano's features. Luca was getting hot. What if he thought that...

"You don't look like them", Tristano stated and turned to his unfinished lamb.

"I take after my mother", Luca mumbled, picking at his food. Suddenly he had lost his appetite.

"Do you think you can become as good as your father?"

Luca shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. What if I don't? Though I love stones and working with my hands, I don't know what to do either."

"That's a good sign. If you love what you do it'll be fine."

Luca stared at Tristano and his surprisingly adult statement. "I know", he said simply. "What're you doing afterwards?" he heard Tristano asking and was startled. "You could give me the grand tour I missed."

"Well," Luca couldn't resist the pleading eyes so he nodded.

Luckily Alessandro wasn't waiting for him when they exited the museum. Luca hadn't known how to explain his staying after work with a lad unknown to him. "See you tomorrow, Luca", Tristano said and grinned sheepishly. "My girlfriend's waiting. I promised to go to the cinema with her."

Luca nodded.

"Thanks again", Tristano shouted from across the street. Luca took his bundle and trotted home. Four more days and Alessandro would be gone to Pisa. What was he supposed to do then? Return to his old buddies to talk about football and girls? He had neglected them enough to raise suspicion but they all referred this fact to him having his first girlfriend and not wanting to tell her name. Luca let them believe that. Their teasing was easier to bear than to tell them the truth.

When a hand closed around his neck from behind, Luca jumped and turned. It was just his father. He had forgotten to take off his overall, but he had clutched his folder under his arm. "It's just me, son. Had a good day? Coppo satisfied with you?"

"Pappa, you will know better how I'm doing since you're the pal of Professore Coppo, eh?"

Niccolò laughed. "Professore Coppo! He would laugh if he could hear that. Surely enough you're just starting, I just want to know if you're attentive and if you enjoy the lessons."

"I do."

"You don’t sound too happy about that, son." Niccolò eyed him over his glasses.

"You've forgotten to remove your glasses." Luca took his father's arm. "You'll trip over in the streets."

"Oh gosh, and there's still the overalls." Niccolò chuckled. "Your mother will throw up her hands." Then he became serious. "What about the Gondi-lad? Why don't you invite him again for dinner? Your mother was asking, you know. Seems as if she likes him for some reasons."

Luca's cheeks reddened and he looked down. He waited at the low curb for motor bikes to pass. Manly laughter sounded from the open door of a bar and thick billows of smoke streamed out.

"Sandro will soon be gone to Pisa", Luca said depressed.

"Ah, for his study? What is he studying there? I wonder why he has to go to Pisa for it, since there are dozens of good institutes here."

"History of Art. He wants a real course with a professional exam. And probably he likes to be out of town."

Niccolò raised his eye brows, surprised. "An official exam? I hadn't thought him capable of so much enthusiasm and staying power. I thought he was a happy-go-lucky sort with lots of nonsense in his pretty head."

At the piazza beside Giotto's campanile the street painters had set up their easels and were busy with tourist’s portraits. Luca saw caricatures of politicians, most of them were Silvio Berlusconi, George Bush and Gerhard Schröder. Kids played with balloons and scooters, Japanese tourists listened to their guide, staring up to the bell tower, armed with huge cameras around their necks, photographing everything that came in front of their lenses. Another group was positioned in front of Ghiberti’s bronze plates covering one of the four entrance doors of the Battistero, while the guide tried desperately to drown out the traffic noise on the street beside them. Others were licking ice cones or held a half-eaten pizza in their hands, squinting against the sun. With their Bermuda-shorts, socks and sandals they outed themselves as non-Italian and Luca had to grin. He pictured Alessandro guiding them through the town, in his posh jacket and neat blue jeans while he was flirting with the young men in his group. Although... Luca couldn't imagine Sandro having such a bad taste.

"He isn't a happy-go-lucky sort", he said then. "He has a lot of intelligence. I think he can become a great tourist guide. He knows simply everything."

"Ah, that's what you talk about all the time then?"

"Yes... That Biancone there", Luca pointed to the large marble statue of Neptune standing in a basin surrounded by naked nymphs, "the people say he's the mighty god of the Arno who was turned to stone because he disdained, like Michelangelo, the love of a woman..." Luca swallowed his saliva wrong and coughed. What was he saying here? He wished he could stuff his words back into his mouth when his father looked oddly at him. "He's telling you this?" Niccolò chewed on his under lip. "Odd story. I've never heard that Neptune was a fag."

Luca flinched at his father's words. "Not Neptune, the god of the Arno", he said quietly. "Under the light of a full moon he walks at midnight in the piazza and talks to the other statues. Well, wasn't half of Florence gay in the olden times?" he asked then cautiously.

Niccolò nodded his head vehemently. "Right, son. It wasn't a crime to have a boy in your bed when you were lonely." His stare was intense. "Has the Gondi-lad done kinky things with you?"

"Kinky things?" Luca blushed once more. "What do you mean 'kinky'?"

"You've got me, son."

"Surely not. It's... it just the stories of the town."

Niccolò continued. "There are rumours you know. Seems as if he's playing in both teams." Niccolò breathed out. "But he'll be gone soon as you said. Have you made friends with the other pupils?"

"Well, a few of them." Blushing Luca remembered the words of Raniero, the guy with the inflamed eyes. What if he told his father of the rumours about his own son? That he was Alessandro's boyfriend? And Sandro wouldn't be there to stick this out with him.

"Luca! Luca!" Luca searched for the voice and found one of his old friends, waving at him from a table in a trattoria. He held something high in the air. "Go, son, but be home for dinner, alright?" Niccolò pushed him gently in the back.

Luca, although he wanted to go to Alessandro, had no alternative than to go to the table where he was greeted cheeringly. "Look what we have", a short one with fire-red hair that he had styled into all possible directions said. "Five tickets for the UEFA-cup next Wednesday, AC Firenze versus AS Monaco!" he was literally screaming. "I got them via internet and offered the highest price on eBay. You're going with us!"

Luca tried to look pleased although he wasn't in the least interested in football. "That's great", he tried to cheer, patting his friend on his back.

"Let's have another coppa." His friend called the waiter and ordered ice-cream for everyone.

"Haven't seen you for a while." Rosso, the boy so called because of his red hair and his freckles, eyed Luca suspiciously though his green eyes were still sparkling for joy.

"Well, my apprenticeship started", Luca said into the circle of three other of his old school-friends.

"What, so soon? And I thought you was enjoying the Spring! Or the summer. What are your plans?"

"For summer?" The ice-cream cups arrived and Luca scratched the sweet cream from the top. He hated sweet cream and spooned it into Rosso's cup. Giuliano stood his sun glasses up and played with the ear pieces. He was the typical Italian heartbreaker. Black hair, black eyes, a red swelling mouth and an Elvis-like grin that put dimples in his cheeks. "Yes, for summer. We're going to Forte dei Marmi, laying on the beach", Rosso said.

"Pah, Forte dei Marmi", Michele chimed in, "we're going to Ostia, to the bath."

"Ostia?" Giuliano said disdainful. "That's just a sewer. Everybody goes to Ostia". He parroted in nasal tone, "Très chic!" He stretched out his little finger and stood his sun glasses up again. The others laughed. "That's something for queens and queers."

Michele gave him a slap on the head. "Then you would be at the right place."

Giuliano whistled after two girls, passing the trattoria in short skirts and high heels. "Who's the queen, eh?" he said. Luca stared after them, watching them doing fare bella figura in the late afternoon-sun, wagging their arses, darting looks back and giggling. Luca inwardly rolled his eyes. They could get lost. He remembered Sandro's butt plug and started to giggle too. They all had no idea...

"That's the old Luca", Rosso stated, mistaking Luca's laughter. "Now, do you want to join us at Forte?"

"I'm not sure", Luca mumbled, "the workshop and museum are closed during August, so... but I don't know about the money."

"Ah, money." Giuliano could talk because his parents had a posh hotel and money was always there for him.

"Braggart", said all three in unison and laughed. Luca though wondered what he would do at the beach, lying mindlessly in the sun, whistling after girls in bikinis, playing volleyball? His parents had never had a real holiday, they just stayed where they were, trying to bear the Florentine hot summer as best as they could.

"Perhaps I'm going to Pisa", Luca heard himself saying.

"Pisa? For god's sake why do you want to go to Pisa? To study the pendulum rules?"

"Well, I've never been up the tower since it's allowed to go up it again." He saw that all three were rolling their eyes.

"Our little Luca has become a professore."

"Ok," said Rosso, finishing his ice cup, "You come to Forte and visit Pisa, it's a cat's jump away, d'accordo?"

"Ok", Luca said dejectedly. "Listen, gotta go. Thanks for the ice-cream and see you Wednesday at the stadio." He hastened to leave without looking back.

_________________________

14
_________________________

Luca felt really unhappy because he sensed Giano was just getting ready to leave. By and by he had sorted his stuff; clothes and books, notes and pictures. Although he wouldn't go at the same time as Alessandro, Luca's brother had already started to pack his things. Luca wasn't ready to face the fact that both - Alessandro and Giano - would leave him very soon; the day after tomorrow, at least his boyfriend.

Luca's pencil went astray. He was supposed to be sitting over his books to learn his lessons, but instead of that he was doodling, forming body parts and faces that always looked the same: like Alessandro. He tried the word boyfriend on his tongue, but. Luca found it strange to think of him like that. Was Sandro really his boyfriend? Lover at least? Or just a friend with whom you would share some exciting sexual experiences that meant nothing more than a short relief because 'the real one' wasn't present and was still to be waited for? Sandro had never told him that he liked him, nor that he would be faithful, nor that he would wait for him. And how could he demand it of him, being so young, almost still a kid. But one thing Luca was sure of: he would miss Sandro like hell. During the past weeks he had gained confidence from the noble boy about the fact that his life wasn't minor, that he was talented, that he was a pleasing lover, that he was attractive ... Luca grinned and closed his eyes, lost in a day dream.

Sandro would pick him up later; he had promised, but wouldn't say what surprise he had for him. Perhaps a dinner for two at a secret place? Was it that Luca was dreaming of?

He missed the short knock at his door and opened his eyes in confusion, facing Dante, the oldest of the brothers, arms braced on the table Luca was sitting at, his face bent over the sheet of paper which Luca had scribbled on. A deep wrinkle had formed between Dante's eyebrows. "Dinner's ready", he growled between almost closed lips, at the same time grabbing the sheet of paper and staring at it. Luca tried to stop him, but Dante had already seen everything. Luca peered, trying to have an eye, "Give it back, man. Why do you always have to spy around my stuff?" Luca had jumped up and tried to snatch the sheet.

"You're still into this", Dante growled, eying the naked body parts; arms, feet, abdomen, prick, a hand that grabbed it, stroking. "Those are examples of your pervert lover?" Dante sneered. Suddenly he dropped the sheet as if he had burnt his fingers. "Listen, piccolino. I don't know what this guy is doing with you, but it's not right." Dante let himself fall upon a chair opposite his brother. "You aren't one of them. You're a nice looking little boy who has gone astray." A sly grin formed upon Dante's face. "Nothing wrong with a little exercise in a mutual jacking off-session, but once you've grown out of it, you should know which side you are on. Right?" Dante's dark eyes were dead like the eyes of Godfather in Masaccio's fresco of the "Trinity", Luca thought. Dead and emotionless with dark rings under them. "But you don't belong to them, you got me? In time you'll find a girl to fuck the brains out of ."

Luca moaned inwardly but endured Dante's reproaches.

"Or have you become used to it, eh?", Dante continued, leaning forward over the table. "Geez, I know what they are doing, believe me. They all just want the same, your cock, a LARGE cock, mind you. When they have had it they go on to the next cock, that's all."

Luca had to laugh. "That's all? You're well informed indeed."

"Sure I am", Dante hissed. "You think I haven't met them? In men's rooms? Trying to corner me? Grabbing my ass? Offering themselves for a good fuck? Jesus Christ, I'm not one of those shit-stabbers." His eyes flashed. "And what about you? Shit-stabber or the girly-bottom?"

Luca's face burnt. He briefly closed his eyes and thought now or never. This was the time to face his brother. "You know, Dante. You reduce homosexuality to sex. Why is the practice of sex all you think of? Perhaps I have fallen in love. Isn't that a good thing? But what else can I expect from a guy that just has fucking in his hollow brain?!"

Dante's face clouded over so much that Luca considered keeping his mouth shut, but bravely he continued. "What about you? All you know is how to pick up girls, "fucking the brains out of them", as you put it, then go and look for the next prey. Is that your conception of life? Is it any different to searching for the largest cock? You're an adult man, why haven't you found your own family instead putting your feet under father's table still? Eh?" Luca fended off Dante's protests. "And those gays obviously liking what they see, grabbing you, do nothing different than you do with your chicks. How does it feel being harassed like a woman?"

Dante opened his mouth but shut it again. He didn't listen much to what his little brother had to say, but he was genuinely astonished that he would say anything like that at all. He examined him like an insect, not sure if he liked the new discovery or not. But then something kicked in. He threw his hands up. "What do you want? Don't you dare give excuses for being a pervert! This guy has abused you and you claim to like it? What kind of boy are you? What will the parents say if I'd tell them?"

"You say nothing to them, Dante", Luca growled now like his brother. "Or you will regret it."

"I'm scared shitless. Who will you send out to me, your perverted little Gondi-Boy?"

Luca bent likewise over the table. Their faces were close. "Watch out, Dante. One day we'll turn tables on you and I'll take revenge for the bashing on the street. I know it was you with your louts."

He saw a flicker in Dante's dark eyes, His brother rose slowly from the chair, looking down at him. "Prove it", he said. "But be certain, if that guy doesn't stop misusing you, guiding you the wrong way, I'll guarantee nothing."

Luca turned heated "What do you want anyway, he'll be gone Monday."

"Good for him", Dante mumbled, leaving the door open as he went out.

"Tell mother I'm not hungry", Luca yelled after him. And anyway, he would be meeting Sandro in half an hour. Perhaps he could eat with him.

*

"Puccini?"

"Yes! "Tosca!" Alessandro appeared from behind the open door of his large wardrobe. "Don't say you've never seen an opera."

"Where and when?"

"But you must! Every music-summer the guest-performances come to play. My family always gets tickets for the musicians from Milano's Scala." He turned ecstatically his eyes. Luca laughed, eying the naked Sandro. Was Dante right when he said that gays only looked for the next extra-large cock? His cheeks reddened in anger when he recalled the names Dante had given him. Shit-stabber? Girly-bottom? Did he really think that a fishy cunt did smell or taste better?

"Chambre separee", Alessandro said, smirking.

"Chambre what?"

"A room just for the two of us, so to speak," Alessandro tossed Luca some of his clothes. "A box, sweetie", he said. "The Gondi-Lucertola box. We'll have a splendid view from that."

Luca caught a black suit with thin grey pinstripes and shortly after that a white shirt made from a rustling, heavy material. "Terrific with your blond hair", Sandro said, examining him briefly.

Luca touched the fabric cautiously, then gasped when Alessandro held a stark white suit in front of himself. "Black and white - what do you think?"

Luca thought it marvellous; the shimmering white made Sandro's eyes sparkle like a blue aquamarine and stressed the darkness of his hair and skin: a wild, daring beauty.

"We'll be the prettiest pair tonight. Come on, change your clothes or we'll be late."

Luca felt the unfamiliar stiffness of the rustling silk of his clothes and thought himself a terrible misfit. But Alessandro's confidence, as he walked with his head in the air through the illuminated entrance to the Teatro della Pergola, swept him along. He felt heads turning and soft murmurs behind their backs. Without looking aside, Alessandro guided Luca upstairs through the festively dressed crowd to the hallway of the first circle where a guard waited beside a white, ornate door, bowing and opening the entrance to the separee of the Gondi-Lucertola's.

"Is that you, Alessandro Gondi?" suddenly a female voice almost shrieked, ignoring the silent dignity of the place. Luca turned and saw some girls of his age approaching them, terribly overdressed in pink and apple-green, covered in diamantes like a Christmas tree. The chandeliers above their heads painted crimson spots into their cheeks and revealed their sparkling silver eye shadows scattered all over their faces. Alessandro looked slightly revolted when one of the girls took his arm, and like a flash he was encircled by three loudly chattering chicks who appeared to be sulking because Alessandro hadn't taken them out for a while.

Luca stood rooted to the spot, not knowing where to go. The guard still held the door open for him, so he decided to enter the box, followed by a gush of high pitched laughter and artificial pouts.

Uncertainly he stepped forward until he reached the landing of the box, passing the red-velvet covered, comfortable looking chairs. He had an extraordinarily view over the stage, still concealed with a night-blue curtain and the orchestra pit where the musicians made a cacophony of sounds. For a moment he watched them, dressed all in black suits, then the conductor's baton knocked harshly upon his music stand, and everything suddenly seemed to fit. A first harmonic accord sounded up to him, interrupted shortly after by another knock of the conductor.

The room was filling with colourful dressed, elegant people, and Luca suddenly felt less of a misfit. Nobody would recognize him here up in the box of the old, noble family. Alessandro's laughter wafted through the open door. Luca turned but couldn't see him. Not him nor the guard watching the door. Probably he had discreetly drawn back. Luca propped his elbows upon the railing and again watched the audience. Rustling fabrics, fresh dressed up hair, naked female shoulders and breathtaking views into powdered décolleté . A wave of different perfumes stung his nose when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Assuming it would be Sandro, Luca turned but he saw one of the importunate girls. Luca peered over her shoulder, but Alessandro was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you the new friend of Sandro?" she chirped, pressing a yellow handbag to her tiny breast.

"Well, yes", Luca stammered for a moment, surprised that she was addressing him. "Something wrong?"

"No", she tried to grin. "I was just curious. You know..." she fluttered her eyelashes and more of the silver sparkling eye shadow trickled down to her cheeks, "we were just wondering.... is it a new girlfriend?"

"Pardon?"

"Because he neglected each one of us; so we thought it's another girl."

Luca all of a sudden had the wish to laugh into her face. "I don't know anything about a girl", he said confidently. "Go and ask him."

She pouted, turned abruptly, so that her long skirt slapped his trousers and rushed through the open door, ignoring Alessandro who now entered the box, looking a bit deranged.

"Who was that?" he said.

"Who was who?" Luca snapped. "An admirer of yours. Asking me if it's a new girl behind your recent behaviour." He stepped forward, playfully menacing his lover. "You've neglected her." Luca rolled his eyes.

"Oh, have I?" Alessandro stepped to the landing and looked down. A deep gong sounded, reminding the audience to gather in the room. The artificial chandeliers flickered. Alessandro turned. "You like it? It's very private." He went, closed the door, and turned the key.

Luca, still waiting for an explanation, felt himself grabbed and pulled down to a chair close to the railing. Alessandro pulled out opera glasses and started to examine the audience. "Ah! Emilio's there with his young lover." The glasses in his hands moved on while he was constantly muttering to himself, counting acquaintances and friends.

"Is this the place for your mother?" Luca asked. "I mean, actually the tickets are for her, right?"

"Madama's in hospital, enjoying her life. Or to say it better: to bring her life back in order."

"You mean she's having a withdrawal treatment."

"That's what I wanted to avoid saying."

Luca eyed him for a moment. Whenever Alessandro was talking about his family he donned a mask.. He asked himself if he would ever fathom the real Alessandro.

A second gong sounded and the chandeliers were slowly dimmed down until they were out. At the same time the curtain lifted, revealing the scenery of a church. A suppressed little cough, a nose was blown, a chair shoved, a whisper sounded up to the box, and then quietness before the conductor knocked softly on his podium and the first Violinist put the bow to the strings and others joined in. Luca saw Cesare Angelotti, an escaped political prisoner, rushing into the church of Sant' Andrea della Valle, to hide in the Attavanti chapel.

It was dark in the box and Luca had a surreal feeling as if the tenor was singing only for himself. He had never had such a surge of emotion and he was absorbing each sound, each exaggerated gesture and each step of the singer that he soon forgot who he was. He followed the Sacristan and Cavaradossi, the painter, taking out a miniature of the singer Floria Tosca, his lover, until he vanished again behind the stage.

Alessandro next to him, leafed through the program although it seemed as if he would know the libretto almost word by word. He glanced at Luca, saw his profile against the light coming from the stage, his glowing cheeks and the blond hair, framing his face, unruly, because he always tried to smooth it in vain, and took his hand that was lying limp upon his thigh. The choirboys sang their Te Deum, but their excitement was silenced by the entrance of Baron Scarpia, chief of the secret police; his baritone voice filled the auditorium deceiving on Tosca in making her think that her lover Cavaradossi was faithless and waking vengeance in Tosca's bosom.

The curtain fell at the end of Act 1 and Luca woke up from his trance. Unconsciously he pressed Alessandro's hand and his eyes were clouded. Alessandro grinned at him. "You don't have to tell me that you liked it", he said. "Wait a minute." He unlocked the door and vanished, coming back with a tray of two glasses and a bottle of champagne, already open. The gentle sparkling fluid ran like oil down Luca's throat while the auditorium was gradually emptying, a soft murmur floating up to the box. Luca felt like floating. "I never thought I would like it, but those voices..."

"The best the Scala can offer", Alessandro finished his sentence. He emptied his glass. "You don't have to worry about those chicks. It's only you." They locked eyes until it was getting dark again and the curtain lifted once more for Act 2, the Farnese Palace, where chief Scarpia anticipated the sadistic pleasure of bending Tosca to his will, having her lover arrested and interrogated so his silence of the whereabouts of his friend and escaped prisoner Angelotti was broken under torture. To end all this Tosca revealed Angelotti's hiding place, fought the police chief and stabbed him to death.

During all the misunderstandings, singing and killing on stage Alessandro pulled Luca to his side, carefully hidden in the darkness, stroking him and as the voice of a shepherd boy sounded, while church bells tolled the dawn, and Cavaradossi awaited execution at Castel Sant' Angelo, Luca was almost in tears. He had never heard such a beautiful song though it was of course familiar to him. The singer in his dark, muddy coat, the white, loose shirt torn and bloody, he fell to his knees in the gloomy cell of his dungeon, lit by torches, desperation on his face,

'E lucevan le stelle,

ed olezzava la terra,

stridea l'uscio dell'orto,

e un passo sfiorava la rena...' [*]

 

-----------------------------------

[*]

"And the stars twinkled

and the earth was fragrant,

the garden gate creaked,

and a footstep brushed the sandy path."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

'The hour has fled...

And I die in despair!

And I die in despair...

And life has never been so precious to me!'

There was deathly silence when the bullets hit Cavaradossi while Tosca rushed up the battlement of Sant' Angelo, singing her heart out, explaining to the audience that she was about to end her life and jumped into darkness.

Luca didn't know where he was when the curtain fell and after a brief pause the audience cheered and applauded, giving standing ovations, calling the singer again and again back on stage. He still was lying in Alessandro's arms, clutching his empty glass and hiccupping softly.

Alessandro turned his face to him and started to kiss him. Luca struggled but then he didn't bother. Let everyone see. Of course nobody noticed, except three pairs of watering eyes staring from the stalls up to the box, not missing anything.

The music and the strange surroundings had left Luca in a state of exhilaration when he followed Alessandro down and into his Ferrari, waiting outside. This was their last night together and no way in hell would he go home alone. Up in the large room of Palazzo Gondi alone he waited for Alessandro to follow him, but he was acting mysteriously. Luca knew why when two men came puffing up the stairs, carrying large covered plates with food and put them on a prepared table in the loggia.

"Wow", Luca said, when they had vanished and Alessandro lifted the first cover. "Antipasti. And what's that there?"

Alessandro tapped his fingers when he tried to lift the silver cover. Instead of he shoved a dried, marinated tomato into Luca's mouth, followed by an olive filled with cheese and a piece of artichoke. With the same movement he wiped his fingers and took off Luca's jacket. A bite of salami and Luca's silky shirt had gone. A piece of a pickled bean and Luca's trousers hung over the stool. Luca giggled, a bit tipsy. "The second round and I'm naked", he stated.

"Wrong. With the dolci you're naked." Alessandro grinned sardonicly, never stopping feeding Luca and himself, washing it away with another bottle of champagne.

"Saltimbocca alla Romana!" Alessandro announced, lifting the second cover.

"Alright, I think I'll have my socks removed then", Luca grinned, giggling to himself.

And with the dolci, hot figs with green pepper and vanilla cream, Luca lost his underpants.

*

"Bath is ready" Alessandro shouted while Luca hadn't noticed his absence. He had to stop drinking for sure. He stumbled over his shoes when he tottered into the bathroom that was lit by thick candles Sandro had fixed on every possible surface. Luca gasped. He had never expected something like that from Alessandro. So, he could be romantic, he thought bewildered, while Alessandro had already dived into the fruity-sweet fragranced foam, pulling Luca with him. Water swept dangerously near the rim when Luca stretched out upon Alessandro's body, giving him a long nose from foam, and placed a funny heap of it upon his hair. "You look like Dwarf Nose."

"Rather like Pinocchio."

"Pinocchio only gets a long nose when he's lying", Luca throw in. "Are you lying to me?"

"About what?"

"Everything. That I'm the only one. That you're not interested in chicks. That you won't get married."

Despite his tipsiness Luca sensed a stone falling into Sandro's stomach. But a moment later it was gone. "I never lied to you, gioia." I just didn't tell you everything, he thought.

Luca felt Sandro's hands gliding up his body under water, soaping the cleft between his buttocks and he was hot in the blink of an eye. He sat upon Alessandro's belly, leaned back and sensed his erect member between his cheeks. Cautiously he lifted himself a bit, and found the right spot, then he let himself sink down, gasping a bit from pain for the slippery penis rushed all too quickly in, but Sandro grabbed for Luca's own prick, giving it gentle strokes and the pain was forgotten.

Water leapt over the rim of the tub, but neither noticed it. After a while the room was swimming with water while the candles illuminated two boys in ecstasy.

They left the bathroom swimming and hurried to the bed, where they started another play of love. Luca sensed the tip of Alessandro's tongue slipping into him and didn't know what he liked more - this or Sandro's concurrent massage of his member. He left his body to Sandro's fingers, occasionally purring like a tom cat spread eagled upon the soft mattress of the bed. Still moist from fluids it was easy to take him and Luca enjoyed Sandro's attention and his lust until they switched positions.

______________________

 

15

_______________________
 

A nightingale lamented muffled into the silent night, while Luca's eyes started to flutter sleepily only to be awakened again by Alessandro's demanding tongue.

The nightingale had been over taken by a lark, announcing the early morning hour when Luca awoke alone in the bed. His searching hand found nothing more than cold bed sheets and the imprint where Sandro's head had been. Luca though cuddled with his pillow, turned on his side, sleepily thinking that Sandro was just peeing and fell asleep again.

Sunday morning in Florence was a silent hour. The tourists were still sleeping in their hotel beds, and the inhabitants did the same, before they prepared to attend church service and afterwards having an extended meal with Mamma's home cooking. The Italian Sunday belongs solely to family, but when Alessandro was crossing the street from his palazzo to reach his aim, he saw some pulled up shutters where the shop inhabitants had already prepared the displays for tourists, preferably shoes, bags and souvenirs.

He breathed in the balmy air. Although the town was made from stone and not from trees and flowers, there was a spicy scent coming from the river, mingling with the dry smell of sunburnt stone and incense streaming from open churches.

It was a beautiful morning and yet Alessandro's heart was heavy. This afternoon he would have to leave his home town and he debated with himself if it was the right decision, now that he had met Luca. He hated to leave him. But he loved to gain the education he was longing for. Perhaps it had been wrong to chose the university at Pisa when he could have studied here at one of the Florentine institutes. But they weren't universities and he wouldn't be able to get the right degree to work in one of the scientific institutes of the museums or as certificated guide for art-historical interested tourists. He would only remain a second class guide, showing the usual spots, giving as little information as he could, giving out tips for an evening's entertainment, for brothels and discotheque's and that would be all.

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. Despite all his gloomy thoughts his face radiated. He had spent a wonderful night with Luca and why should this be the end? They could see each other each weekend, and in August started the long break that they could spend together wherever Luca wanted; money wasn't a problem. Although.... Alessandro wasn't as rich as Luca seemed to think. He had the monthly income from his father's inheritance. The rest of it was under the management of his uncle Arrigo until.... until he would marry and father a son.

Sure he could spend it right now, but he would have to give a report on what and why he would spend it, in case he didn't marry and have a son because then everything would fall into the hands of the monks. What an obnoxious thought. Not that he wasn't willing to give money for charity, completely the opposite. But he felt very queasy at the thought of seeing the hard-earned family money, gathered over centuries, in the possession of foreign people who would do God knows what with it.

He stopped in his walking and held his face into the sun. A slight sting in his back entrance reminded him of the pleasures of last night. How would he manage to abstain from all of that? Could he trust Luca? Could he trust himself? He squinted against the sun and continued his walk, until he reached his goal. Palazzo Pucci, a similar monster of Pietra Serena like the one his family owned. Iron rings as fixtures for horses reins and torches, stony benches besides the bronze entrance door, rejecting and intimidating.

Alessandro didn't hesitate, entered, crossed the square yard straight to the opposite door and stepped into a hall, not bothering with ringing or knocking. He knew that Emilio was always up in the early morning hours. The hall was decorated with huge modern paintings - an odd contrast to the Renaissance palace. A staircase led on the right hand side up to the other floors, but Alessandro turned left where a small plate of noble understatement announced 'Emilio Pucci - Fashion Designer'.

He found Emilio and his young lover at the breakfast table near the large windows, that were covered with plants of all sorts. A large date palm needed the whole space of the corner and under it stood wicker chairs and tables where on them Emilio had put the coffee pot and plates with marmalade and honey.

"Ah, there you are. You're early", Emilio said in his deep, somewhat dragging voice. His lover turned and beamed. "We saw you yesterday at 'Tosca' in the box with your little friend", he said. "But you didn't see us."

"Surely I've seen you both", Alessandro answered. "Amidst the plebs in the stalls, why was that? Have you rented your box out?" He pulled a chair to the table and sat down.

"Sometimes it's helpful to breathe the smell of plebs", Emilio said winking.

"Snob."

The young man - black hair and black eyes, a little goatee leading down from under the lip to his chin - pushed him a plate and toast. "Coffee or tea?" he asked.

The connections of the Gondi's with the Pucci's have been legendary. Both families were one of the oldest in Florence, both had been silk merchants, and while the Gondi's could save their money over the years, the Pucci's name was only held by the recent wealth of their latest offspring, Emilio, world-wide acclaimed fashion designer with ateliers in Paris and London. But here, at his old family palace, he had his very own, private studio where he designed clothes and invented new patterns, shown on the catwalks in Roma, Milano, New York and Tokyo.

"Vittorio, gioia, would you be so lovely as to bring it by? You know where it is", Emilio asked the young man who rose and left the room.

Emilio turned to Alessandro, leaning over the table, his anthracite eyes under the bushy eyebrows searching. "It's for the young man you were withyesterday, right?"

Alessandro nodded.

"He'll look so pretty in those clothes." His fingers combed his ice-grey, thick hair. "I've never seen him, though. What's his name? He can't belong to the society."

"Pah, society. I told you, you're a snob, Emilio. What's with him?" He made a movement towards the door where Vittorio had vanished. "Where did you pick him up?"

Emilio laughed roaring. "He's one of my models from Milano."

"Ah!"

Vittorio returned, walking graceful like a dancer, shirt open to reveal his six-pack and the brown, hairless chest, that was decorated with a low hung chain with an artistic pendant. He carried a pack of clothes that was enveloped by a plastic bag and gave it Emilio who unpacked it carefully.

"You said you were of the same figure and height, so I hope it fits", he said, lifting out a soft suede jacket of a light brown colour, with light-red and blue applications of a typical Pucci-pattern.

Alessandro unwrapped the matching trousers. "Marvellous", he said, admiring the work. It snuggled perfectly to the hand.

"Your farewell-gift?"

"Sort of", Alessandro mumbled. Suddenly he thought it stupid. When would Luca be able to wear it? He shook his head. Of course he would have dozens of opportunities to wear it. When they would go out for instance.

"You outdid yourself, Emilio, it's terrific. And now to the business side of things. Quanta costa?"

Emilio grinned and winked at Vittorio. "Friendship price as agreed. One hundred Euros for the sake of old times. It's just the price of the leather."

Alessandro knew that Emilio was understating, but he didn't want to hurt the older man. He beamed and nodded. "Great. For old times' sake."

Luca was still sleeping when Alessandro returned on tiptoes, then kneeling beside the bed and kissing Luca on his cheek. "Hey, sleepy head, time to wake up."

Luca stirred, turned on his back and sighed. "Where have you been?" he muttered, eyes still closed. Alessandro looked down and his heart hurt. He left the gifts where they were - upon the table - hurried to undress and crawled under the blankets. It was still early morning and they had plenty of time.

Luca embraced him, cuddled with him for a while until both felt the familiar feeling of arousal again that needed to be satisfied.

"I have something for you", Alessandro whispered, jumped out of the bed and went to his cupboard where he kept Masolino's diary, and opened it. He pulled out a package and a little, longish box and returned. While Luca was watching him, he remembered that this was their last day together, or worse, what was left of it. His stomach pulled together painfully when he saw Sandro's naked body, the long, straight legs walking and his equipment , that brought so much pleasure, hanging between. Then he laughed at himself. Was it just THAT which brought him pleasure? Or rather the whole young man?

"What are you laughing about?" Alessandro looked down on himself. "Alright, it's still drooling", he chuckled then. "Probably because it's still not satisfied, eh?"

Luca's cheeks reddened. "You're a slut. What do you have there?" He recognized Masolino's diary.

"It's for you. Please take good care of it while I'm away, promise?"

Luca swallowed with excitement. Finally he would be able to read all of it.

"And here's something else." Alessandro pushed Luca aside and let himself fall between the sheets. Then he opened the long box and tickled Luca's nose with the pendant hanging on a long, golden chain. "That's the Gondi-cross. Everyone of our family has one."

Luca grabbed it and sat upright. He stared wide-eyed at it. It was made of heavy, red shimmering gold and enamel in white and red. "You can't give me that", he stammered finally. "That's too precious. And it's yours. You..."

"Shhh. It's mine, I can do what I like with it. And it's a promise to return." He bent down and kissed Luca's lips, still open in astonishment. Luca's fingers enclosed the cool cross as he sunk back between the pillows, embracing Alessandro's body while his heart beat loud and painfully. "You act as if you were going to America", he said indistinctly between kisses. "I know you'll return. Otherwise I'll come to Pisa and tell you off."

"Sure you'll come to Pisa. What about next weekend?" Alessandro's fingers crawled upon Luca's body from chest to his abdomen, wiping away white stains. Luca's stomach jerked and he wriggled. Alessandro's forefinger stroked gently along Luca's soft penis, then to the surface of his smooth balls. Luca jerked again and chuckled. "Do you have a single room at the student's hostel?" he asked.

"Don't know. I guess so."

"You think I can stay overnight then?"

Alessandro's head had went down, pushing the covers completely aside and gnawed slightly at Luca's shaft with his teeth. Luca's member rose within the blink of an eye to full length. "If that is still working that way when we're fifty..." Alessandro mumbled, taking it into his mouth.

It was noon when both weren't able to do anything more. Both complained about pain and soreness, but took it easy. It was between coffee and the remains of the dinner from last evening when Luca pointed to the parcel. He had hung the Gondi-cross around his neck, left his shirt open, so that he felt the cool gold between his pecs. He looked almost like Vittorio, Alessandro thought, just with blond hair. Without a word he took the parcel. "Unwrap."

Luca did and gasped. The suede felt extraordinarily soft. It would fit like a glove. But then he let the clothes sink into his lap and stared at Alessandro. "Why do you give me all this? You embarrass me. I've got nothing for you."

"I thought you would like it." Alessandro sounded somehow disappointed, so Luca dashed around the table and knelt down beside his boyfriend. "I love it, Sandro, really. It's just, expensive gifts are given so seldom in my family. We don't have much, so those gifts are welcomed the more. And they embarrass me, you understand?"

Alessandro looked at him. "Because you feel obligated now?"

Luca nodded.

Alessandro stroked his cheek. "That's the difference of our two worlds. For us, gifts are meaningless. You know, money can't be responsible for making an asshole of you. It's rather that money reveals your true being. With money you can act as you are. Treat people bad if you feel like it." He grinned. "But if you're good guy you please people."

Luca grinned too. "So you wanted to tell me that you're the good guy, right?"

"Right. No, I'm selfish." Alessandro smirked now and ruffled Luca's already dishevelled hair. "I want to see you in that outfit. Now."

Luca rose and dropped his shirt and jeans. A minute later a young heart-breaker stood in front of Alessandro. "Where would I wear this?" Luca asked, turning in front of the mirror in the wardrobe.

"When you go out with me, next time."

Luca detected the label of Pucci inside the jacket and almost shrieked. "What's that? You're friends with Pucci, are you? I didn't know!"

Alessandro laughed. "One of my secrets. If I don't watch out , Emilio will substitute Vittorio with you and I can admire you on the catwalks of Milano."

"Huh?"

"Vittorio is Emilio's young lover. A model from Milano. I met him this morning."

Luca rolled his eyes. "And had a three-some, eh?"

"Sure."

Luca sighed deeply. "My parents are upset because I wasn't there for lunch. Giano told them I'm probably with you, not saying that I was out the whole night. They know you're departing today."

"Good old Giano", Alessandro said. "When is he going to Pisa?"

"Next week. Actually he wanted to go later, but then he changed his mind. Probably happy too to start a single life. Perhaps you'll meet."

"Yeah, perhaps." Again Alessandro imagined Giano's features that looked so similar to Luca, just less boyish.

"You have to pack I guess", Luca said, suddenly sad. Reluctantly he took off the jacket and the trousers, folded them carefully and put them back into the plastic bag.

"I don't have much to pack. Just some clothes and books."

Luca followed Alessandro downstairs, laden with the plates, into the kitchen. "I'm up for a last walk up to San Miniato, what do you think?" Alessandro said. "Say good-bye to the God with the torch."

"Cautopates?"

"Right. Cautopates. The finisher of days. And meanwhile you'll read the diary and tell me what you think about the story."

"You said, you've plans with that. What plans?"

"Going to Rome to find out what happened."

Luca's face was a question mark. "Where will you go to find things out when none of the scientists found out?"

"They never read Masolino's diary."

* * *

Florence was swimming in the afternoon-heat. A sfumato hung over Brunelleschi's red brickstone cupola of the cathedral, blurring the pointed bell's tower of Santa Croce into those surrounding Luca's home, and the battlements of the tower of Palazzo Vecchio, the town hall. The slopes of Fiesole behind were of a dusty grey-green. Silver-grey where olive trees covered the slopes, black-green where pines and cypresses pierced the sky, planted in long rows, indicating the road that led up. Now and then red roofs and white washed walls were to be seen, where rich people of Florence had their summer's domicile.

Alessandro and Luca stood tightly embraced and breathed in spicy air. The noise of the town was behind them and no passers by disturbed the peace.

"Don't follow me home", Alessandro said. "I hate long farewells." He gave Luca a key. "Here you have it. Whenever you feel like you can then go to my room. And there's still your gifts to pick up. Promise me to look after the Palazzo? Fran will come every week too."

"Fran?"

"Francesco, our gardener and housekeeper. He's with Anastasia at Fiesole." He lifted Luca's chin. "Next weekend, I'm back." He kissed Luca, then he turned and went quickly away. He didn't look back.

 

__________________

 

16

___________________

"Did you say good bye to your stabber?" Dante hissed when Luca came home. But Giano pulled Luca aside. "Nobody knows you weren't at home last night. I told them you left early this morning." Giano's gentle brown eyes were a little bloodshot.

"Had fun at the opera?" his mother chirped, ruffling Luca's hair. Luca ducked away and mumbled "Yes". He wanted to be alone, away from Clarissa's cheerfulness, Dante's lurking eyes and Giano's concerned watchfulness.

"You said the Gondi boy is leaving today?" Clarissa went on, while her agile hands washed the plates and cutlery from the supper. "There's rabbit left, if you like. Aren't you hungry?"

"No", Luca mumbled once more and dropped his head. From the corner of his eye he saw Dante open his mouth, but he received a blow from Giano's elbow. "Have you nothing to do?"

Dante, dressed in jeans and jacket with a scarf of AC Firenze around his neck, shot him a look and left the kitchen. Luca was reminded that on next Wednesday he had to meet his friends for the football match and he sighed inwardly. What a prospect. Without a further word he left and entered the narrow staircase. He felt Giano at his heels.

Without being invited, his brother followed him into his room. "Has he left?"

Luca nodded and dropped down upon his bed. "Thanks for lying for me", he said, not looking at his older brother. Giano squatted in front of him. "Next week I'm off too. You think you'll be alright?"

"I will. Please stop treating me like a baby."

A little smile curled Giano's lips. "I reckon he will return soon, won't he? Next weekend perhaps?"

Luca looked up and suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't stop himself from stretching out his arms and embracing his brother.

He felt his soothing closeness. "Hey, I'm sure you'll survive a week", Giano whispered. He wasn't sure if the Gondi-boy was worth all the heartfelt pain. He had watched him long enough to know that Alessandro was a slut and a heart-breaker, with a remarkable talent to lure women and men to his side to play with them and then toss them away for the next one. He was angry that his brother could become one of them. But no way in hell would he tell Luca. He freed himself from the embrace and lifted Luca's chin. "You've plenty to do next week. Going to work, learning a lot, meeting with your friends, and you'll see, in no time it's Friday evening." He winked.

Luca sniffed and felt consoled. How good it felt to have a brother to share his secrets with. "Has Dante said anything?"

"No. I'll make sure he doesn't."

But in two weeks you're gone too, Luca thought, and what then?

*

Alessandro put on his sun glasses to stop the sun shining into his eyes. He drove straight west, upon a country road that led between kiwi-plantations and vineyards, peach trees and tree nurseries. The Ferrari buzzed satisfied under his buttocks and he turned on the radio. A minute later he turned it off. It was disturbing his train of thoughts. Red statues shimmered through a hedgerow as he passed a workshop for terracotta. The sun inflamed the burnt stone to a deep crimson red.

He knew that next to the country road ran the lazy flow of the Arno. Alessandro drove slowly and enjoyed the silence of the Sunday's late afternoon so much that he took detours to reach his destination. On the right hand side he passed Empoli and the junction that would lead to Leonardo's birthplace Vinci, all hidden between olive plantations, the black peaks of cypresses and large, wild meadows in between, now and then interrupted with houses painted with the colours of the south: dark terracotta, yellow in all shades, light ochre and faded orange. He met hardly any cars, at least not before he crossed the Arno again, approaching Pisa, the former almighty town at the Tyrrhenian Sea whose fleet had once ruled the world. Little was left of it. Alessandro's hometown Florence forced Pisa under its yoke, and this even without Leonardo's great plans to deflect the river to cut off Pisa from the harbour; it was nature and time that did it itself. The town was situated now ten kilometres away from the sea, because the river had shovelled great heaps of sand and mud to its mouth. The heavy anchor chains of the ships he had seen hanging at the walls of the great cemetery, and he longed to study all of them again.

In the distance towered the Apuanian mountains, foothills of the mountains where the Cararra-marble was broken. The river snaked in a wide bow through the town when Alessandro turned into the autostrada, passing a stony gate that lead into the town. The water had a different colour, milky green, almost grey, from the gravel and marble the waves brought with it on its long journey.

Cars streamed into the town returning from their Sunday trips and Alessandro orientated himself with the signs that would lead him into the centre, to the university. The last of tourist's busses jammed the streets when he arrived at the large, sandy coloured building. He stopped his car directly in front of it and entered the two story, square yard, similar to his own home's yard, just much wider.

"Very few students here, young man", the old caretaker said, interrupting his meal of bread and salami. He poked around pieces of it between his teeth as he rose achingly, pulled on an old cardigan and shuffled in his baggy cord trousers next to Alessandro across the yard, through a hallway, to an attached building that was adapted to the old Renaissance-style of the university.

"Kitchen is not yet open for the students, young man", he croaked, "but in the student's quarter you'll find lots of appropriate places for you." He looked Alessandro up and down, sniffing the air. Apparently he sensed Alessandro's rich upbringing, although he had tried to appear as casual as possible.

Alessandro presented him his registration form and the old man nodded, still chewing at the remains of his supper. "The semester starts in two weeks, young man, but the library is open for kids like you. What are you studying?"

"History of Art."

The old man nodded again. "Bene. Like so many of you." He rummaged in the small bag he carried and handed Alessandro a plan of the buildings. "This might help with your orientation." Together they entered a large floor from which doors opened to the right. The left side was covered with windows, overlooking the Piazza dei Cavallieri, with the same named large palazzo.

"There are fifteen students here, who didn't go home for holidays." He held Alessandro's registration form close to his eyes. "I see you wished a comfort-room. The single rooms are booked out."

"Alright", Alessandro said, following the old man, wishing he would go faster for his bags were getting heavier with every minute.

The room he was offered was attached to a kitchen in the middle; with two beds on each side, two wardrobes, tables and stools. "TV costs extra. But the use of the kitchen is free. And here's the key" he said, fumbling with a huge key ring and again raised it close to his eyes. "It opens your room, nothing else. I'm always there if you need help."

Alessandro nodded. He signed for the key and let out a heartfelt sigh when the old man had shuffled away. He dropped upon the bed, and stretched his body out . A light headache was throbbing behind his forehead and his stomach growled. "Kitchen is cold", he remembered the words of the care taker, so he had to find out a place where he could grab something to eat for himself.

On the landing he bumped into a lanky youth with stubbled hair, cut so short that it was just a centimetre long, covering his skull. He raised up his eyes and laughed then. "Hey, I didn't expect anyone else here. New?" He eyed Alessandro from head to toe, a brief, curious look. He stretched out his hand and said brightly "I'm Franco. What's your name?"

"Alessandro."

"Fine. Hungry? If yes, we have the same intention. What are you studying?"

"History of Art."

"Great! That's my direction too." Without any further ado, he shoved Alessandro down the staircase, along the hallway, through the yard and out of the university. Alessandro laughed quietly to himself. Usually he was the master of talks and actions; now he had found his master himself. Probably. He squinted against the setting sun when they were standing upon the street. "Look, there's the house of Galileo. He had a chair for mathematics here."

Alessandro nodded friendly. He knew that of course.

"Where do you come from?" Franco asked, starting a fast tempo directly into the old town quarter. Soon they were surrounded by the noise of Vespas and the chattering of people coming through open doors and windows, street cafes, trattorias and the smell of fresh baked pizze and vegetables hung in the air. Alessandro had classified Franco's dialect to somewhere in the north.

"Florence."

"Ah, I guessed so. I'm from a small village near Venice. I've no money to travel home for holidays, so I had to stay here. Well, it was a short break anyway. And you?"

"What me?"

"Why do you came so early?" Franco had led Alessandro to a pub in a narrow street, and to a gathering of youths sitting at little tables in front of it.

"Well, why not. I have some things to do here."

"Family? Friends?"

"You're pretty nosy, honey."

Franco gave him an odd stare from aside and shut his mouth. He pulled Alessandro with him though to an empty table and called to the waiter. Apparently he was good friends with him. "I'm starving", he said, studying the menu. "I'll think it's pasta."

"I think it's a panzanella first", Alessandro said. "You'd like one too? Feel invited."

Franco made round eyes and hesitated. "You know... you don't feel you have to."

"I'd like to. It's my first day here." He waved to the waiter and ordered two panzanella salads, pasta for Franco and salsicce with polenta for himself. Franco remained silent and eyed Alessandro from aside.

"Perhaps you'll gain some fat on your ribs then", Alessandro winked. Then he nudged Franco. "Hey, don't be so stubborn. The next time is on you."

Franco's a little pock marked face lit up. "Alright then."

Alessandro wondered how quickly Franco cleared his plates. "So you'll have started your studies already, yes?" he asked. "We won't be in the same class then."

"Well, of course we can have some courses together. What are you interested in?"

"The history of Florence especially. I'd like to become a guide. You?"

"Well, restorer actually. I dream of an employment in Venice."

Alessandro whistled through his teeth. "A never ending task." He pushed over his credit card and signed. Franco made big eyes, but said nothing. They sat for a while and finished their glasses of cheap wine, enjoying the atmosphere of low sounding music, quiet chattering, clinking glasses and cigarette smoke. This he had dreamed of, Alessandro thought, to be among kindred spirits, having a buddy he could have good talks with.

"Where do you live?" he asked. "Single room?"

"Hell, no, I can't afford that. Three-man-room, actually pretty stuffed, but what can I do."

Alessandro felt a little ashamed of his money, but that wasn't his fault either. He rose and sauntered with Franco through the illuminated streets, making a big circle until they reached the campus again. "Have you a girlfriend?" Franco asked. "I left mine in my home town. Well, we haven't been together for that long, so..."

"So...?"

Franco looked frankly at him. "Well, how do I know what she's doing?"

Alessandro was quiet. Yes, how did he know what Luca was doing? Suddenly he felt alone.

"I left mine in Florence", he mumbled, almost involuntarily.

"But she can come each weekend, it's just two hours away."

They stood in front of Franco's room. "It's a he", Alessandro said.

Franco lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh. Well... cool." He grinned and turned the key. "See you tomorrow then. What are your plans? We can have breakfast at the same spot. They offer cheap prices; they know students are always in need."

Alessandro nodded, somewhat relieved.

"Thanks for being honest", Franco said when he closed his door.

Like a tiger in a cage Alessandro went from the bath to the kitchen and back to his room. It wasn't a very wise idea to come here so early, was it? He considered phoning Luca but remembered that he hadn't a mobile and that one of his parents would answer the phone. In the worst case scenario it would be Dante. Then he had an idea and made a mental note to do this first thing the next morning. So, he had plenty of time to explore the town, probably together with Franco. Or go to the secretary and pick up the list of possible courses he had to take. Visit the National Museum to see Masaccio's painting of San Paolo, the apostle, Masolino had mentioned in his diary.

Finally he searched for bed linen in the wardrobes and made his bed. He pulled out towels and placed all his toiletries in the bathroom. Luckily he had his own that he would only have to share with his room mate.

The bed was hard, but not uncomfortably. After a few attempts to stuff his pillow under his head the way he liked it, he stood up and opened the window. He simply had to get used to it all, the foreign smell, the noises, the sound the rustling bedcover made and his naked feet upon the carpet. Instead he pulled on a t-shirt and sat at the table where he leafed through his travel guide of Pisa. He had always puzzled in his head where the Carmine-church would be. He couldn't find it in any travel guides, nor on internet sites. Masaccio had painted his large altar piece for that church that had been taken to pieces and spread over Europe. The panels were all at Berlin, Germany, The Crucifixion at Naples, the Madonna at the National Gallery, London. Just San Paolo had remained here at Pisa.

Alessandro remembered Masolino's mysterious words when they had parted. Masaccio on his way to Pisa to start the work of commission for the Carmine-church, his brother in tow. "Lo Scheggia" - the splinter - as his contemporaries had called him, for whatever reason. Why did they call a man The Splinter? Masolino had had a very bad feeling when he had watched them going. Alessandro smelled a family drama, that had its origin here in this place: The Pisan Carmine-church. With the help of some natives he should be able to find it.

*

Two days later a parcel awaited Luca when he came home from the Opificio. A cardboard box, wrapped with red paper coming from Pisa. Luca's heart beat faster. A parcel from Alessandro? And he hadn't even been away a week. Niccolò and Marcello, just arrived home from work and hungry, eyed curiously alternating between the parcel and the glowing Luca who would have loved nothing more than to unwrap it in his room. "You made close friends with the Gondi-boy, didn't you", his father asked, slipping off his shoes. Again he had gone home in his dirty overall, and Clarissa had laughingly scolded him. "Sending you parcels already."

Marcello watched Luca silently. "Where's Dante anyway?" Niccolò asked him.

"Date", Marcello answered monosyllabic.

Niccolò shook his head. "I thought he would rather train for the Gioco."

"You mean, sex isn't good for a sportsman?" Marcello asked, hiding his grin. Niccolò rolled his eyes. "Of course it gives you weak legs. And he needs his strength for the match, now our Quartiero is in the final." He sniffed and searched for his pipe.

A wire burnt suddenly in Luca's stomach. The Gioco would take place soon and Alessandro had been determined to attend. He was in the Quartiero of San Giovanni, so he and Dante would probably be rivals. But, was it likely that Alessandro would be allowed to participate? On the other side: who would oppose the Prince of the Lilies?

"What about your workout and training?" his father asked, eying his son. "We want to make sure the victory is on us this time, d'accordo?"

Marcello mumbled something, still his eyes on Luca's parcel. Luca snatched it, pressed it to his chest and was about to leave the kitchen. "Dinner's ready soon", Niccolò called after him.

Up in his room Luca hastily opened the cardboard box and yet another and then held a mobile phone in his hands. It was not just a cheap thing, but an expensive looking phone with shiny, silvery buttons and a blue display. A card was attached.

"Gioia,

This is something useful for us, don't you think? I would had phoned, but actually I don't fancy a talk with any of your family. Please phone me as soon as you can, my number is stored already.

Alessandro"

Luca's excitement peeled off. No "I miss you", no virtual kisses for him? He examined the mobile, found the place with the telephone numbers and Alessandro's and pressed the button. Alessandro answered immediately and sent a little stab into Luca's heart. It was good to hear his voice so close to his ear.

"Wasn't that one of my brighter ideas, eh?" Alessandro chuckled into the loudspeaker, "You can talk as long as you want, it's all on me. So, how are you?" His voice echoed somewhat as if he was standing in a big hall.

"Where are you?" Luca asked instead of giving an answer.

"In a church."

"Church? The big cathedral?"

"No, the Carmine-church. That's where Masaccio worked."

"Ah! Now, do you come home for weekend?"

"Of course. Make sure you've plenty of time for me, capisce?

Luca grinned and nodded. "I miss you."

"Miss you too. Until later, ciao."

Alessandro had cut off the call. With shame Luca realized that he hadn't even thanked him. By all means he would make sure that he had his weekend off, all day and all the nights. Before that he would go to Alessandro's home to make it comfortable for the two of them.

That night he dreamt of a blazing torch that lured him into a dark tunnel deep beneath the earth. It smelled damp and mouldy and he heard water drops flow from silver shimmering walls. He knew it was Alessandro he was following because he heard his light foot steps. He walked on silent feet as usual. But Luca couldn't reach him, as fast as he was hurrying, stumbling over rubble, slipping in oily water puddles. When the fingertips of his outstretched arm almost reached the back of Sandro a flush of fire shattered between him and his boyfriend, parting them, causing Luca to yelp with pain. An arm, carrying a torch burnt in front of his face and took his sight. Luca shouted and screamed ... and woke up, bathed in sweat.

He sat up and wiped the moist strands of his hair, then he rubbed his eyes. What was that crap? Tunnel, torches, fire. Sandro lost. Deep within him Luca knew that his subcon-sciousness he feared that he would lose his lover to another town and perhaps another man.

Luca clutched his drawn up legs and stared into his morning dawn lightened room without seeing anything. To make the trouble perfect he had to go today and endure the football match. He sighed loudly and scrambled out of his bed. At least it would bring a bit of a change. Soundlessly he padded across the hallway to the bathroom and thought wistfully at Sandro's spacious bathroom, that was actually a separate room of Sandro's huge living room that was almost took up the whole length of the Palazzo.

Luca fumbled with the bathroom boiler, put some more wood into the shutter and lit it. Tired and somewhat hung-over he sat upon the toilet seat and rubbed his face. What a dream. He jumped when the door opened and Giano peered in "Up so early?" he asked, entering the room.

"Bad dream". Luca rose and made room for his brother who had difficulties aiming his morning wood into the toilet bowl. Luca grinned and stepped in front of the mirror. A pair of gentle brown eyes stared back, a little swollen from sleep. Another face appeared in the mirror behind him. Giano wrapped an arm around Luca's chest and leaned his face against Luca's hair.

"Aren't we a happy pair?" he whispered. Luca leaned against his brother's body, feeling his hardness. "You certainly mean beautiful pair", Luca chuckled. "Better you find another place for that", and winked at Giano's mirror image. Giano winked back, though somewhat melancholic. "How come we are so different?" he asked. "You and me. There's no similarity to Dante and Marcello. Whether outwardly or inwardly." He pressed Luca tightly to his chest, still speaking to his mirror image. "Promise to tell me instantly if they harm you, alright?"

Luca nodded. "But I can take care of myself, Giano."

"I know you can. I just want to know what's going on."

Luca hesitated for a moment. "Sandro has given me a mobile. If you get yourself one we can stay in contact always." He saw Giano's eyes brightening in astonishment. "Given you a mobile? Such an expensive gift? Wow."

"He said he didn't want to phone me in case it's Dante answering it."

"Since when is he so shy?" Giano answered. "He never avoided any conflict before."

Luca pondered for a while. "It was Dante who beat us up on the street recently", he mumbled, avoiding Giano's eyes. He felt himself turned to face his brother. "Are you sure?"

"Sandro recognized him. And anyway, Dante didn't deny it."

"You've talked with him about that?" Giano asked surprised.

"Not really. But I know it was him and some others."

"Marcello?"

"Don't think so."

Giano stroked over Luca's cheek, then he untangled his hair with his fingers. What if the same waited for himself? What if he had came out earlier? Would he had prepared a smooth way for Luca then? He was not sure how his father would react - having two gay sons. And Clarissa? Would she still be the lovingly, innocent mother? Giano would be alright if it wasn't so, but Luca was still too young for that burden.

"Does Sandro come over the weekend?" he asked instead. Luca had meanwhile started to brush his teeth and nodded. "You must do me another favour", he said indistinctly, white foam upon his lips. Giano put some toothpaste upon his brush and looked up. "Another night of freedom?" His brown eyes sparkled. Luca blushed and bent his head to rinse his mouth. "No need to feel ashamed, gioia", Giano whispered close to his ear. "Make sure it's safe, ok?"

With a jolt Luca remembered that they hadn't used a condom the last time. But he trusted Sandro. His brother had died of AIDS, and he wouldn't be so stupid to be careless if he wasn't absolutely sure about his state of health. Would he?

Giano eyed his brother in the mirror, saw the worries painted on his face, and then relief. He wondered what was going on in his head. Sandro had a large consumption of girls and boys; he knew that. How far had both gone? For Giano it had been just hand and blowjobs in a darkroom, or a wild fumbling in the park and somehow he envied his younger brother. At least he would have a bed to lay down with the Prince of the Lilies.. He chuckled. A bed of lilies.

Luca had stepped stark naked into the bathtub and turned on the heated water. Before he could pull the plastic curtain to avoid setting the bathroom under water, Giano climbed into the tub and started to soap first Luca than himself. Luca enjoyed his brother's hands and it was hard to stop his body showing his excitement. Actually it was impossible since he heard Giano's chuckle through the beating of the water.

"Surely I'll help you. Though it was close last time", Giano explained after a while. He rinsed off the water from his body and stepped out. "I guess Sandro has a better bathroom, hasn't he?"

Luca heard the tease in his voice and grinned, while he wrapped himself into a towel.

"How do you get along together actually? Doesn't he consider us as the poor workers who maintain his lifestyle?"

"What makes you think so?" Luca said a bit angrily. "He hasn't any class snobbery." He has for sure, he thought immediately, but held his tongue.

Giano smirked. "Hasn't he, ah. Well, then." He slipped into his tight boxer-shorts, combing back his wet hair with his hands. Luca thought his brother looked marvellous. Thankfully he missed the beefy stature of his two older brothers, but he had a finer bone-structure and his skin was smooth and shimmered like gold from the sun. His now soft penis and the low hung balls were clearly defined under the thin, blue material, and were identical to his own equipment. Which was looking good by the way, Luca grinned to himself.

"Hurry up, I'm going to make breakfast." Giano was out of the door.

* * * * *

"Football?" Tristano repeated and frowned a bit. "I've tickets too, but actually..."

"You've got better things to do? Going out with your girlfriend?"

"No, with my sister. She's the one interested in football."

Odd, Luca had thought that all straights were mad for football. Inwardly he rolled his eyes. Just another one of those clichés. Standing in front of the class, Coppo handled the slide projector, showing photos of the Chapel of the Princes at San Lorenzo, and high-defined details of stone inlays, counting the names of the stones.

"So, we'll meet then, right? Let's say 7 p.m. at entrance C?"

Tristano nodded. Luca could had sworn that there was a sparkle in his eyes, though it might be a sun's reflection that came through the uncovered windows. Suddenly he felt a wet sting on his neck. He turned and saw the stupidly grinning face of Raniero playing with a plastic straw. "Faggot" he mouthed and throw him a folded note. Luca caught it. "Another victim?" it read. Luca crumpled it and put it into the pockets of his jeans. Tristano gave him a questioning look but Luca shook his head.

"These are the steps of an inlay picture. To the left side you see the finished model." Coppo pointed to a bunch of multicoloured flowers. "In the middle is the drawing model every one of you will have to make as a start. To the right are the suiting stones. Our first task is to get a feeling for right colours. Match your supply of stones with the colours of nature and you will see that everything is possible." Coppo peered over his spectacles and searched for the reason of the noise. His eyes stuck on Luca Montori who had turned his head.

Coppo cleared his throat and Luca's head jerked back. Raniero couldn't hide his plastic straw and Coppo sighed. Once in a while parents sent him their kids who weren't suitable at all for the skilful task that was taught in this workshop. Certainly Raniero belonged to them, despite that he had managed the enrolment test.

Coppo leaned his hip at the teacher's desk and focussed on the lad with the cheesy skin. "Ragazzi", he started low. "If anybody is among you who doesn't want to be here, then I am the last person to stop him or her from leaving. This workshop is honourable and the task will be difficult. It requires love and devotion. So, please, leave your private problems out of this room, d'accordo?"

Fifteen heads nodded, but Luca bent his head. That fun was to come, he thought. But he was determined to stand up against intolerance, even if the cost was high. He was just angry that here was another one besides Dante who wouldn't leave him the way he was.

When Coppo hurried them out for dinner break he caught Luca's sleeve. "Just one word, Luca", he said, taking off his glasses, pinching his eyes. He looked tired. "Any problems? It's between you and me and nothing that is said will leave this room."

Luca's eyes widened but he regained confidence very quickly. "There's nothing, Professore."

"It's Coppo", Coppo reminded him.

"Well, there's nothing I won't solve by myself. I really like your lessons and I'm eager to start with a real task." Luca tried a grin.

Coppo examined him seriously. "One after the other, Luca. Your father and I started our apprenticeship in the same class. He outdid me, so there was nothing left for me but to become a teacher, while he became the master of the stone cutters and then the leader of the inlay workers."

"But you are professore and my father isn't", Luca objected.

Coppo laughed friendly. "But that's not important. I was better with theory and your father with his hands. It means nothing."

Luca smiled at the obvious understatement. "Um, Coppo, what did you have to learn to become a professore. I mean, I have a friend who starts his study at Pisa."

"Ah, Pisa! I've studied there too. History of Art. I wanted a background. And geology, also a few semesters archaeology."

"My friend is studying History of Art too. He wants to become a guide. Working in a museum perhaps."

"An early decision about which direction he likes to chose would be useful", Coppo said. Then he nodded to the door. "I guess there's someone waiting for you."

Luca saw Tristano lounging outside the room and his face lit up. Coppo patted his arm. "Enjoy your meal."

"What did he want?" Tristano asked excited. They went down the staircase and joined the others at the cantina, standing in a row.

"Apparently he had noticed, that there was something between me and Raniero." His eyes searched the room and found Raniero sitting and gobbling up his spaghetti like a pig. Disgusted Luca turned away.

"What is between you and Raniero?"

Luca hesitated. He couldn't tell him the reason. But then... what the hell. "He's envious."

"Envious? What about?"

Luca sighed impatiently. His stomach growled. "Do you know Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola?"

"Sure. He was beaten up lately on the streets at night."

"Right. I was with him that evening. I mean, I'm friends with him."

Tristano's blue eyes stared at him. "Wow, aren't you shy with that guy? He certainly outclasses us."

"Ah, Tris, you show the same class prejudices that separates us from people like him. He's human, nothing more." And he wipes his ass at the loo the same way we do, as his father had told him many times, Luca thought chuckling.

"But, I mean, wow... he's so... he has a bad reputation." Tristano eyed Luca, apparently not knowing what to make of Luca now. "And that is the reason Raniero is envious?" he asked not very convinced.

"Well, he thinks I'm a scrounger who made friends with a noble man to receive many benefits."

"Like what?" It was Tristano's turn to receive his plate with spaghetti and another with a schnitzel and vegetables.

Luca shrugged and took his own plates. What was he to tell him? The gift of an opera-evening, receive the precious Gondi-cross and clothes he would have to work some years for if he bought them by himself?

Raniero grinned nastily when he and Tristano passed his table to sit at another, constantly peering at him and laughing his ass off. Luca moaned and rolled his eyes. Best to ignore him.

* * * * *

The letters "Artemio Franchi" were beaming over the stadium's entrance, but Luca had difficulty finding his way. He was here for the first time. It was Rosso who had told him that there would be an entrance 'C' everybody wanted to meet in front of.

Fans of both clubs - AC Firenze and AS Monaco - stood in groups, drinking, laughing and bitching at each other from aside. Guards had separated them and lead them to difference entrances.

"Oh no, the faggot again!" he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind his back. There was a harsh tap on his shoulder. "Since when faggots are interested in football? And where did you leave your stabber actually?

Raniero was draped with blue-white shawls around his neck and hanging from his baggy trousers and he sipped from his beer bottle. Behind his sneering, pale face, appeared a few more with similarly stupid expressions. Luca didn't know what to answer. He tried to evade and to vanish among the swarm of fans, but Raniero followed on his heels. "You can surely tell me, or the whole class will know."

                           

Luca whirled around. "What will the class know? That you're an idiot? I can arrange that."

"Gosh, a faggot with a courage!" Somehow Raniero wasn't intimidated nor could Luca shake him off. Desperate Luca tried to fight his way through entrance C until he finally saw Rosso's fire red hair. He waved. Luca slipped like a lizard through the fans where suddenly Tristano appeared, tugging at his sleeve. Luca panted a little. Cheering sounded behind him, coming from the blocks of fans, and hoarse battle songs. He regretted coming here. This was certainly not his cup of tea. But Tristano grinned at him and pointed to his side. "That's Isolde, my sister." Isolde, blond as her brother with coal-black eyes and a scarf draped around her waist, beamed. She obviously enjoyed the riot. "Tristano and Isolde?" Luca couldn't resist his tease and Tristano rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we've had enough of that, thanks."

Rosso still waved and pulled him closer finally. "What took you so long? And where's your scarf?"

"Scarf?" Luca asked stupidly and Rosso strangled him almost with his spare one. "Much better", he said. "Come on, Giuliano and Micky are already in."

"What's your seat number?" Luca asked Tristano and noticed they weren't that much apart from each other. Together they were herded through the entrance where guards frisked the rucksacks and bags for fireworks and bottles. With glee he saw from the corner of his eyes, that Raniero and his louts were relieved of both of them and he rushed to follow his friends.

The stadium was an oval bowl with flat seats, forming at the opposite side the writing "AC Fiorentina". The main stand was covered and despite the prices almost filled with people. Luca's heart started to beat fast when dusk fell and the first of blue-white fireworks started among the crowd. The opposite party answered with red smoke and when the stadium speaker announced the players he was as excited as the others were. Tristano and Isolde had changed their seats and sat now next to him, but to his annoyance Raniero and his buddies were right behind.

Through Giuliano's binoculars he followed the ebony-skinned Nonda in his red-white shorts and he didn't care that he belonged to the opposite team. His home club was hopelessly defeated anyway. When the first goal fell for Monaco an ear deafening thunder clap went through the stadium, coming from the stand, and he heard Raniero cursing sharply.

"What an eye catcher", slipped out of Luca's lips, as he followed Fernando Morientes' fast speed over the field, dark hair blowing in the wind. Immediately he sensed the stares from his friends. "Woo, Luca, gioia, you haven't joint the sweeties, have you?" Giuliano fluttered his eyelashes at him, and Luca tried to hide his blush - in vain. They all laughed and patted his shoulders.

"That's alright, Luca," Rosso said, "I would give everything to have such a tight ass as Morientes has."

Luca joined in their laughter, but thought he caught an odd look from Tristano. He couldn't sort it out, he just hoped that he wasn't thinking Luca was gay and despised him for being that. But then he saw his laughter and was eased.

The time was almost over when Fiorentina was four goals behind and there wasn't much hope for the return match next week. People streamed out of the stadium, and a large whistling and booing rang in Luca's ears. Raniero had vanished. He saw him minutes later standing on the staircase parting groups of fans, where he tried to light a flag. His buddies helped him and in no time a fire was burning. Police came rushing, but then Luca saw the sneering face looking directly in his direction. A rocket shot at him and he was too slow. It detonated between the crowd, showering them with burning sparkles. People screamed and whirled around, trying to extinguish their burning clothes.

Luca's hair had caught fire. Tristano hectically tried to cover it with his shawl. A biting stench hung in the air and a panicking crowd tripped over each other to the exits. Police and guards hastened to Raniero and his gang, who was still standing, laughing and interested in following what happened. Giuliano lay on the ground, coughing badly, while Michele patted his back; Isolde's jeans were scorched like her scarf.

The stadium speaker admonished calmness. Luca sat upon his seat, let the crowd pass and fumbled with his hair. One side of it was scorched and smelled nastily and his jacket was riddled with holes.

The culprit had been lead off and calmness returned. An ambulance man came through the rows, stopping by Luca. "Everybody alright?" Luca pointed to Giuliano who was still coughing badly. After a quick examination Giuliano was taken away and the rest of his friends followed. He was brought into a tent.

"That's really much fun", Luca squeezed out.

"Sorry, buddy", Rosso said. "I hadn't thought it would be that way."

"Did you see, it was Raniero", Tristano said. "Bastardo."

"Raniero? Do you know him?" Rosso asked.

"Sure, he's our class mate."

"Congratulations. I don't know about you guys, but I need a drink to wash my throat." They left Michele with Giuliano and looked for a stand offering tramezzini and drinks. Isolde took a handkerchief and wiped Luca's face. "You really look funny", she said. "Guess only a barber will help."

Shit, Luca thought. Sandro is coming and you look a drooling yokel.

"Ah, nonsense", Rosso chimed in, opening a water bottle. "It's not that bad, Luca. A bit has to be cut off, that's all."

They all watched fans streaming through the exits, howling and whistling, and it would be a long party for all the fans of AS Monaco.

"If she saw it on TV Caro will worry, don't you think?" Isolde said to her brother.

Tristano pulled a face. "She never watches football, and this shit happens every time."

"Caro?" Luca asked.

"My girlfriend, I told you." He eyed the police car standing alongside. Probably Raniero was in there, being interrogated. Perhaps this would be enough to get him expelled from school.

Clarissa raised her hands up when she saw Luca coming home. She lamented about this football crap and the fans especially and chided Luca that he had gone there.

"Dante's always going and you don't chide him", Luca protested.

"Basta. Sit down here." She took a scissor and furtively cut the tips of Luca's hair, while combing it. "You look like a negro. Wash your face then."

Luca trotted into the bath and looked at himself in the mirror. Rosso was right, it wasn't that bad, now the scorched strands had vanished. He had a smoky line under his eyes and across his face and his clothes stunk badly. The jacket was torn anyway.

He dropped his clothes and stepped into the bath tub. Clarissa had made a fire, so the water was warm when it washed away the remains of that unhappy evening.

 

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17

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It was Friday evening when Luca was on his way to the Gondi-Palazzo. Sandro would arrive this evening and he needed to prepare the room. To his surprise the heavy wooden gate was already open when Luca turned the key. He crossed the yard where Sandro's motorbike was still standing under an awning, but the large palm tree had received fresh water. He went further on and entered the hall. "Hello?" he called and jumped when a man came around the corner, wiry, with sun burnt skin and a straw hat upon his head.

"You must be Luca", he said, his bushy, silvery hair poured from under the hat. "I'm Fran, the housekeeper and gardener. Alessandro told me that you would be coming sometime."

Luca stretched out his hand but the long white lily he carried was in the way. Fran shook it. "That isn't necessary", he smirked and Luca felt embarrassed. "For Alessandro?" Fran took the lily carefully and examined it. "You need to remove the yellow anthers. I hope you haven't smeared your clothes. If you have, it will stain."

Hastily Luca looked himself up and down. He couldn't dream what his mother would say if he came home with another set of tainted clothes, but he seemed to be clean.

"Come into the kitchen."

Luca followed and watched Fran slip into his gardening gloves and nipped off the anthers. "Alessandro has left money for me to fill the fridge. And I covered the furniture since the palazzo is deserted now." He turned. A dozen of wrinkles framed his eyes and the skin of his face was like leather; the result of years in the sun. "Anastasia told me about you."

"How is she?"

"Well, thanks. We enjoy the fresh air in the hills."

Luca envied him instantly but he smiled. "Please give her my greetings."

Fran nodded. "I will. Well, check the grocery if you're in need of anything else while there's still time. I'm off then."

Luca went upstairs after he had examined the fridge and opened the door leading to the loggia. Fran had left a good feeling inside him. There were people still who didn't despise him for being what he was. Fran certainly knew the story of Anastasia's son.

Luca checked the bathroom then, came back with a handful of condoms and lubricant and hid them under the bed clothes. The lily he placed upon it and grinned.

His leather suit was still waiting for him in Sandro's wardrobe and so far nobody had noticed the cross he was always wearing. The chain was long enough to hide it.

Two hours later - Luca was sitting in the kitchen where he could watch the yard - Alessandro opened the gate and drove the Ferrari in. Luca was out like lightning and draped himself over the closed car door, falling into Alessandro's arms. "I see you missed me."

"You could have called to say when you'd arrive."

"I'm here now." Alessandro looked at Luca. "What have you done with your hair?" He combed it with his fingers.

"Oh, that's a long story. I know it looks shitty."

"Certainly not. It will grow again, don't worry. But what happened?" Alessandro dropped out of the car.

"Football match, I told you I was going."

"Madonna! Did they start fireworks?"

"Sort of. I'll tell you later." Luca pulled Alessandro through the door and into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"Sure I am. For you." He pulled Luca closer and unbuttoned his shirt. "I hope there are no further damages, eh?" He took the cross into his palm and smiled.

Luca giggled when Alessandro unzipped his jeans and cupped his butt cheeks with his palms. He felt nothing. "Forgot your underpants? Ah, what's that?" He let Luca's trousers glide over his hips and revealed one of Alessandro's black strings. "Wow."

"I hope you don't mind", Luca said indistinctly because his lips were covered by Alessandro's. He felt Sandro's fingers massaging the shaft of his penis and it was raising in his fist within a second. He tried to free his legs from his jeans but failed due to his shoes. Alessandro felt him struggling, so he bent down and tugged at Luca's shoes. But instead of coming to his feet again he devoured Luca's cock, that filled out the front of the string, lavishing it through the fabric, up and down like licking an ice cone. Luca moaned and dug his fingers into Alessandro's hair.

"You should keep it, it looks better on you than on me." Alessandro left Luca suddenly, rose and chased him upstairs where he stopped in front of the bed, looking down. "A lily? How sweet." He took it and sniffed, but it was without any scent.

"Prince of the lilies. I had some trouble because of that", Luca mumbled.

Alessandro hadn't heard him. He turned, smiled and pulled Luca into an embrace. At the same time he tried to undress himself, and finally fell with Luca between the sheets. "Ouch, what's that?" Alessandro struggled to reveal what Luca had hidden under the cover. "Ah!!! You think we'll have any use for this?" He held up the tube of lubricant and grinned devilishly. Then he crawled upon Luca's body, naked except for the string, and started one of his first class seductions.

Luca was on the brink of orgasm, but he tried not to bite into Alessandro's member that was dangling from above into his mouth. His hand stroked Sandro's bum and one finger was piercing his anus. Alessandro grunted with pleasure and Luca knew he mustn't stop now. The next minute a hot gush of semen flooded into his sucking mouth, flowing down his throat and he swallowed. How easy he got used to it, he thought briefly when a rapid series of convulsions shook his own body and he released himself into Sandro's mouth. Sandro fell aside, his face buried into Luca's abdomen, sucking white drops from the tip of Luca's penis. "I certainly missed this."

"It's just been a week", Luca mumbled exhausted. Though he still hadn't had enough, and his aching penis yearned for more. He had forgotten how horny he could be. Even if it had been just a week. Sandro was still sucking gently, stopping Luca's penis to shrivel. Luca copied Sandro's actions, stroking his smooth buttocks and outlining the rim of his anus. Alessandro moaned quietly, but then he said "What caused you harm at the football match then?"

"A hooligan who's unfortunately my class mate. He'd already made nasty comments about you and me."

Alessandro lifted his head. "You and me?"

Luca's penis felt cold without the caress. "Don't stop", he demanded.

"Yeah, but what did he say? What does he know...?"

"He knows nothing, he just guessed. Said I would be your lap dog who follows you everywhere."

"And called you names, right?" Alessandro turned over to face Luca. He kissed him deeply. "Can you stand up for yourself?"

"I do. I admitted nothing and since he didn't show up at lessons for the last two days, I guess he's still in custody. He started a fire", he added.

Alessandro chewed at Luca's under lip and humped slightly into Luca's abdomen. Luca responded. "Well then, the first thing you have to learn is not to be ashamed of what you are. No matter what others say."

Luca was silent. "With the result of being beaten up on a street?"

Sshht, let's not talk about that now." His fingers had found Luca's hole, stroked and opened it. Then his head vanished between Luca's legs and started to lick. "Where did you put that lube?"

Sated and satisfied Luca later purred in Alessandro's arms. He had put his head close to Sandro's and let his fingers wander over his lover's chest.

"What's the name of that hooligan?" Alessandro asked.

"Raniero .... why?"

"You said he didn't show up again? Perhaps he was expelled from school then?"

"I certainly hope so. Though Coppo said nothing about that."

"Coppo?"

"My teacher. Professore Coppo Travisero. He's a friend of my father."

Alessandro freed himself from Luca's embrace and lay upon him. "So you already have good connections, eh?" he grinned. His hand had found Luca's member and stroked it again to full erection. "I could do this for the whole weekend", he whispered into Luca's ear.

"Why not?"

* * *

"I've been here before", Alessandro said, as they passed Palazzo Torrigiani and its museum La Specola.

"God, no, really?" Luca exclaimed. "You've seen those anatomic wax models of humans?"

"Well, sure. I've seen the 'The skinned', it was a model for the lymphatic system."

Luca muttered something, taking Alessandro's hand subconsciously. "Giano was here many times, but I guess, as dottore-to-be he's interested in such things. I would had vomited."

Alessandro laughed. It was a cool day, and a welcomed change after the hot days at the start of June. After an extended brunch they had decided to take Masolino's diary with them to visit the main work of him and Masaccio: the chapel Brancacci at the Carmine church.

"You think this was the family palazzo of Torrigiani?" Luca asked.

Alessandro looked at him. "You mean THE Torrigiani? Michelangelo's classmate at the Medici-garden? I don't know. Perhaps."

"I've read he was a foe of Michelangelo and broke his nose in a fight."

"That's right, gioia. Right here in the Brancacci-chapel where they made sketches to learn about perspective. Michelangelo laughed at Torrigiani's sketches and they started to fight. He was burnt by the Spanish inquisition later. I think the free Florentine spirit didn't go well with the pious Spanish Catholicism."

Alessandro avoided the area of Santo Spirito because this was the hang out of his buddies, so they made a detour through shady alleys and winding yards. Near the Carmine church he stopped and pressed Luca's back against a house wall, next to hanging, blue gloxinias.

"Have I told you that I'm coming with Giano and mother to Pisa next week ?" Luca started, but Alessandro pressed his body to his own and started to snog with him. Luca gasped but submitted. It was at that moment when a boy and a girl stepped out of the archway two houses away. The boy stopped in his tracks and squinted his eyes. He saw two lads kissing each other and he clutched the hand of his girlfriend tightly. "What's the matter, Tris?" she said.

Tristano stood rooted to the spot and couldn't believe it. It was certainly Luca who had his hands around the waist of the other guy who could only be Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola. His heart beat fast.

"Gays, does it bother you?" Carolina said, pulling Tristano away. "Do you think your granny liked the chocolate?"

Tristano said nothing, he was too perplexed and all of a sudden the day was hot like in August. His face flushed and he felt the presence of his girlfriend annoying. He wished he was alone.

But then, Caro grabbed his hand and drew him away.

"Great", Alessandro mumbled, not releasing Luca's lips. "I take it you'll stay overnight then?"

"If I can?"

"You have to. We'll find a place." He humped his abdomen into Luca's and Luca knew that Sandro was still horny, despite their activities during the night and in the early morning. Both hadn't noticed that they had been watched.

The Carmine Church raised high and unadorned in front of them. It was a plain Carmelite church, rejecting with its brown pietra forte stone. The famous chapel had to be entered from outside and a group of tourists already waited in front of it. "Crap, always those tourists. We never have Florence for our own", Alessandro said.

"Let's wait then until they have gone", Luca suggested, pointing to a street cafe. They ordered two waters and two cappuccini and Luca opened Masolino's diary. He had protected it with a plastic cover. "Did you know that the church had burnt down in 1771? Only the two opposite chapels survived, one of them was the Brancacci-chapel. Well, there was damage, the big wooden frames between the frescoes had burnt and the paintings were discoloured at the rims. Then they wanted to tear it down, but the German painter Menzel who was here in Florence begged the government not to do so, because it was something that was irrecoverable."

Alessandro nodded, sipping at his coffee. "I know. The government of those times must have been idiots. Well, at least they relented and started to renovate the frescoes. Have you been here since the last renovation?"

Luca shook his head. They had lasted for many years, and he had heard that it was a miracle. The colours were fresh as the day when Masolino and Masaccio had painted them.

After twenty minutes they decided to have another try. Alessandro knew that the amount of people who were allowed to enter the chapel, was limited due to the humidity. When they had paid their entrance fee, the tourist group was still standing in front of the chapel, but were about to leave.

"It is because of their narrative density and the perspective depiction that this cycle has such a high rating in the history of painting", Luca heard the tourist guide explain in a Neapolitan dialect. "Masaccio was never carried away by the graceful classical vein. The faces of his apostles are rough and powerful. Adam and Eve of his hand built a concrete opposite to the same pair painted by Masolino, who had never painted a more expressive Eve."

Alessandro watched the tourists, standing a little aside, saw they were leafing through booklets, examining cards, fumbling with their cameras, although it was strictly forbidden to take photos, chattering low and looked as if they would like to be somewhere else. He sighed inwardly. The tourist guide wasn't at all what he hoped for himself to become. If you liked full attention you don't have to simply recount the facts.

"From Brunelleschi Masaccio acquired a knowledge of mathematical proportion. From Donatello he imbibed a knowledge of classical art that led him away from the prevailing Gothic style. He inaugurated a new naturalistic approach to painting that was concerned less with details and ornamentation, more with simplicity and unity, less with flat surfaces more with the illusion of three dimensionality. Together with Brunelleschi and Donatello he was a founder of the Renaissance." Involuntarily Luca peered at the walls, to see if she was right. Of course she was right, he thought. He pulled out the diary. If the guide knew what he held in his hands she would jump for joy. The original diary of Masolino da Panicale.... the painter of this chapel they were standing in... six hundred and twenty two years ago.

"Marzo 1429

I could not wait until he returned from Pisa. I had spent my time working at the Brancacci-chapel of Santa Maria del Carmine at Oltr'arno, on the other side of the Arno. I hadn't expected that Felice Brancacci, one of the richest merchants in town would give me the commission, when he returned from a visit to the Sultan of Egypt. Probably he had heard about my assistance in Ghiberti's bronze door of the Battistero. The theme he had prescribed was the tales of the New Testament, preferably the deeds of San Pietro.

But it was a difficult task and I yearned for Tommaso's return. Together we could work miracles. But alone, I was worth just the half. Felice Brancacci agreed when I suggested Masaccio helped as my colleague, not as my pupil, with this task and I negotiated a good salary for him.

I was making visits to Donatello's workshop, where he was working on two bronze statues at the same time. It was San Rossore and a over life-sized David, a delicate, girlish boy with his hand propped at his hip, the other carrying a sword, smiling down at the head of dead Goliath, a winged helmet upon his hair and a feather that stretched along his leg until it met his buttocks - more of a pagan Mercury than an old testament hero. His private parts though were undeveloped and tiny.

Donatello was busy polishing it, and I knew this had taken some while to complete, probably a year. I wondered if this statue was ever to be displayed; it showed too obviously an androgynous being. Donatello said laughingly that I should not worry, he had noble people at hand, interested in it. His apprentice boy smiled sheepishly and with a jolt I recognized his smile upon David's face. The boy, small and with curly, dark hair, his feature fragile and girlish, winked at me.

The day Tommaso returned from Pisa was a feast. Though he seemed to have changed. More than before his gloomy and fiery character appeared, and his eyes had a feverish expression. His whole face was beaming, yet not by his healthy, rosy gleam alone.

His brother Giovanni didn't leave him. He lounged around when we prepared the utensils we would need, made lists about the day’s work we would be able to finish, the amount of ground plaster, Arabian Sinope, sand, chalk, parchment, brushes needed, and the colours.

One morning, when I had gone out to bring us grapes and bread for breakfast I found them in an embrace under the ladder, both soiled with mortar, the prints of their hands clearly visible at their painter's coats. I dropped the bread that fell to the dirty ground and hastened to pick it up. At the noise they scattered apart and looked at me with reddened faces.

I said nothing, but from then on Giovanni spoke to me impertinently and let me know that I was the old man who had nothing to say here. Tommaso allowed him to paint two heads of angels, that were to be placed next to the altar, one left and the other on the right side of it.

We started at dawn and ended when the moon shrouded the chapel into darkness and the wax of the candles and the oil of the lamps weren't bright enough to see. I had started with Adam and Eve in Paradise, and Tommaso was working at the opposite with their Expulsion. He managed two day works a day and when he finished Archangel Gabriel swinging his sword over the pair who were expelled from Garden Eden, my brush started to tremble. It was a striking contrast to my Gothic scene which was lacking in psychological depth as I realized then. Tommaso's Adam - although a sinner - had not lost his dignity and the beauty of his body was a blend of classical archetypes and new forms of expression.

My brush fell when my eyes wandered over Adam's exposed, private parts. They had neither similarity to mine nor to Tommaso's; with its exciting length and reddish colour it hung freely over the large, shaded testicles and I felt mine rise under my dirty leather apron.

Tommaso turned to me and grinned impudently. "You think Felice will accept it? I painted it as it is written in the Old Testament: Adam and Eve, chided by their shame, naked, to show their sin."

My eyes wandered further to Eve, now ugly faced and old, hiding shamefully her breasts and her abdomen. I did not want to see them anyway. My eyes were focussed on Adam, his brown-reddish hair long and strong like a horse's mane.

Tommaso stepped down from the ladder and gave me a hand to do the same. When we were standing face to face, he undid the knots of my apron, took my soiled shirt and my skirt and caressed the pout bulging even more from the hardness that was hidden in there.

I do not want to describe what happened then. This time it is the feather that trembles in my hand, and not the paint brush, that still lay on the ground of the chapel where we sank down to submit to sodomy. His brush was strong and pierced me to the tip of my heart, when I felt another weight upon me, and, opening my eyes, it was Giovanni, piercing Tommaso's entrance as he did mine.

What a shame I felt. Sodomy and incest. In a chapel with the holy Apostles to watch. My face still burns at the recollection."

Luca whistled through is teeth. "Wow. Had you expected that?"

The tourist group had gone and they were the sole visitors. He pressed his knees to the low marble barriers that stopped him from entering the chapel, but everything was in good light. His eyes found Adam's respectable private parts, swinging freely, and he had to grin. "I hadn't thought that Brancacci would allow that."

Alessandro smirked. "Well, perhaps he followed the same inclination and had hot sex in his chapel."

Luca nudged him. His eyes brushed the fresco cycle from the 'Temptation', the 'Tribute Money', the 'Shadow Healing' until the 'Expulsion' - pictures he was familiar with from his days at school.

"Some of them are by Lippi, right?" he said. "The chapel was left unfinished."

Alessandro nodded. "Yes. Masolino went to Rome and Masaccio followed, to work on a commission. And then all traces of Masaccio are lost." He pointed to the diary in Luca's hand. "Read until the end, and then you tell me what happened."

"I thought the last pages were missing."

"They are. Though perhaps your imagination outclasses mine." Alessandro covered Luca's mouth with his lips. "If the creators did it here, it can't do harm to do the same", he whispered.

"Are you mad?" Luca struggled free and pulled Alessandro out of the chapel. "Come home then."

Luca slept through the third part of The Matrix while Alessandro was wide awake and absorbed the computer tricks, although he couldn't follow the action and abstruse pseudo-psychological babble. He found the film rather a disappointment. He held Luca's hand sitting next to him in the cinema seat and he woke him up when the film was finished.

A velvety night greeted them, the wind had stopped and the illuminated Dante-Quarter was wet and silent. "Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate..."Alessandro read aloud from a stone plate, attached to a house wall.

"Inferno", Luca said automatically. "Do you think Masolino thought he would go to hell after his death for what he did? Sodomy and incest?"

"Well, at least he wouldn't be accused of incest, just his boyfriend. But what does it matter."

"But don't you find it odd, having sex with your brother?"

"I don't have a brother anymore. What about you?"

"Me? I doubt that Dante would let me", he said chuckling.

"Coincidence. Dante Alighieri was 100 percent straight."

"And seven hundred years dead."

Alessandro took Luca's hand and sauntered with him through the narrow streets of the medieval quarter where Dante Alighieri had had his tower house. "Has Giano a girlfriend?" he asked.

"Giano? Not that I know of. He keeps himself to himself."

Alessandro said nothing. Except when he's lounging in gay bars, he thought. Luca didn't seem to know and he wouldn't tell him. That was Giano's job to do.

They reached Piazza Signoria with the town hall whose clock tower pierced the nightly sky and was softly yellow illuminated. The place was bustling with walkers, tourists and youths, sauntering up and down. Alessandro pointed to the 'Rivoire', a good restaurant at the opposite end. "Fancy a drink?"

Luca nodded. He had never sat here because it was too expensive to sit there under the sunshades and enjoying the view. But then he recognized a familiar figure. "Tristano!" he called and pulled Alessandro to the table where his class mate was sitting with his sister Isolde and another young man. "Mind if we join you?" he asked and was greeted.

"That's Alessandro, my b... my friend."

Isolde beamed and her boyfriend pulled another chair to the table for Alessandro to sit down. "What's up?"

"Cinema. Matrix, what crap. I slept through the film", Luca said.

Tristano eyed Alessandro from aside and was silent.

"Have you heard from that hooligan that's your class mate?" Isolde said. She lifted her Cinzano glass and clinked with the ice cubes.

"No? What's up with him?"

"He's expelled from the Opificio. Our uncle works at the police station. He's being charged with arson and vandalism."

"Just because he's lit a flag?" her boyfriend asked.

"Well, he shot a rocket among the crowd", Luca said. "My friend is still in hospital. Smoke inhalation."

"Your hair looks good", Isolde said in reply and winked at him.

Alessandro had ordered two Cinzano and two ice cups. He could certainly feel Tristano's eyes on him and his instincts told him that there was much more to the blond haired boy that he would admit to himself. He searched for his eyes and gave him a smile. "So, you're Luca's class mate?"

"And you're Gondi-Lucertola, right?" Danilo, Isolde's boyfriend asked all of a sudden. "I wondered where I knew your face from."

Luca let his spoon fall. It clinked upon the table. And there it was: the question he feared: "Weren't you beaten up on the street lately?"

"Yes. By homophobic arseholes."

Tristano's eyes widened.

"Why do you think they were homophobes?" Isolde asked.

"They left no mistake." Under the table he pressed Luca's leg soothingly.

There was a minute of silence where everyone made their own conclusions. "And you? Were you with him?" Danilo asked Luca.

"I.... well..."

"He wasn't with me", Alessandro said calmly. "Had better things to do, right?"

Luca wondered why he protected him. If Alessandro was so out to the world, he shouldn't have problems to admit everything. Except, he was so sensitive to protect the privacy of others and didn't force their coming out. Now he felt Tristano's eyes on him and he looked down. Somehow he felt that Tris knew that Alessandro was lying.

"He's a pretty lad, your Tris", Alessandro said into Luca's ear. He lay upon his belly with Sandro on top of him, who had brought him close to orgasm.

"Oh, you think about others while you fuck me, right?" Luca mumbled through gritted teeth, but Alessandro just laughed. "He has the same blond hair as you, you'd make a pretty pair." His penis slid in and out with a fast speed, stroking Luca's prostrate so that he was squirming and saw red stars twinkling in front of his closed eyes.

"It's the opposites that attract", he panted.

"Black and white? I mean blond and dark?" Alessandro had slowed down his speed, but Luca couldn't hold on. He squirted over the crushed towel upon the bed sheet, and gave a loud sigh.

"Hm... I love it when you come", Sandro giggled, but made no attempt to quicken his speed. Luca lay motionless and felt his anus stretched. Alessandro glided slowly and softly within him. "He's gay", Alessandro said.

"Who's gay?"

"Tristano."

"No, shit. What makes you say that?"

"Oh come on, Luca. You have tomatoes on your eyes. It's clear to see. My gaydar kicked in."

Luca tried to look over his shoulder. Alessandro slid out of his hole. His penis, hard like a stone, stood upright, condom-covered, glistening with lube. Luca pushed away the towel, turned to his back and watched him. "I can't see it. He's got a girlfriend." He lifted his legs and pulled Alessandro upon him. His back arched when Sandro entered him again.

"It's the way he looks at you. He just doesn't realize it."

Luca sighed when he felt Sandro's balls slapping softly against the inside of his spread legs and their pubic hair was mingling.

"That implies that he's in love with me", he teased, flexing his muscles inside, causing Alessandro to yelp with pleasure.

"I'm sure he is."

For the next ten minutes Luca said nothing more. He closed his eyes and devoted himself to Sandro's pounding that made him hard again, until they came together. He embraced Sandro with his legs, they fell to their sides and smiled at each other. "Sore?" Sandro asked.

Luca raised his eyebrows. "Actually yes. But if that means you'll stop - no."

Alessandro laughed out loud. "You're a slut."

"I thought you were the slut in town. They all recognized you. Um, besides, thanks for protecting me."

"I don't out other people."

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18

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Alessandro heard mumbling beside him. He sat in the last row of the Franciscan church of Santa Croce and listened to the mass on Sunday morning. He stared at the back of Luca's head, as blond as his brother's, Giano, sitting next to him. He would give a penny for their thoughts. The whispering beside him didn't stop and he occasionally saw a head bent forward to examine him. Alessandro lifted his chin and pretended not to see them. He knew what the reason was. Florence was strictly devided into four Quartieri - quarters - and to attend the church service of a Quartiero you doesn't belong to, was sort of a faux pas. Alessandro's eyes wandered over the heads of the family of Montori; the black hair of Dante and Marcello and of Niccolò, the father, whose stubborn, dishevelled strands were ran through with silver. Luca's mother Clarissa was a fragile bird compared to they first sons. She had tied a black veil over her blond hair and was apparently praying. Alessandro usually had nothing to do with the church. It was just an old habit that he followed the Sunday's mass and an tribute to Florence way of life. Now, that the family money was in danger because of the greed of the Dominican monks - again a foreign Quartiero his home place actually didn't belong to - made him dislike it more. Again he cursed his father, that he had chosen this odd way of teaching him lesson. And still he was undecided what to do. Give into uncle Arrigo's demands who put the family reputation higher than the happiness of their last and youngest member or to throw it all into the wind and start his own life, afar from wealth and social acknowledgement? Alessandro knew very well that noblesse didn't count in Florence. Not anymore. Even the old noble families had settled down to a normal life, living from a small income; working to have a living. But none of them were as famous as the Gondi's, one of the last really important families of this town. The Medici's had died out as well as the Pazzi's. The banks of the Bardi's, Tornabuoni's and Sassetti's had lost their money centuries ago. The Albizzi's and Corsini's had moved away and all that was left were their splendidly decorated chapels in the churches of Florence. Alessandro thought briefly about Emilio Pucci. He was the one who had given back his old family a last touch of splendour, but he too was working hard for it with his own brain and hands. And he - Alessandro? Should he carry on and continue his life as layabout, squandering the money as he did before? Luca had shown him another way. His family was poor as seen by Alessandro's own eyes. But they had more compared to others. They owned a palazzo, Luca's father was the acclaimed master of the inlay workers and Alessandro considered his income not so little. And yet they managed to live on a basis that made the family important, not the money. Despite that Luca didn't get on well with his elder brothers - Alessandro was sure that Dante would give his life for the piccolino of the Montori's. His wrath against Alessandro was proof enough. The people around him fell forward on their knees upon the hard foot supporters and started to pray with a lot of murmurs. Alessandro didn't move, nor did he fold his hands. He caught an astonished look from the priest's eyes, standing high over the heads of the congregation in his stony pulpit. Alessandro held his gaze indifferently until the priest looked away. When everybody started to gather their things, he rose and waited for Luca to pass by.

Clarissa saw him first and looked surprised. Luca beamed at him, Giano raised his eyebrows, and Dante gave him his usual sinister stare.

Alessandro lined up and followed the Montori's, pulling Luca aside finally just before the exit, next to Michelangelo's grave monument.

Clarissa joined them. "Alessandro, how nice to see you. I'd heard you were in town." She ruffled Luca's hair. "I haven't seen my son for the whole weekend. How do you like Pisa?"

Alessandro, a bit put out with the demonstrative joy shown in seeing him, smiled politely. "Very good, signora. But I felt a little homesick."

Niccolò tugged at her handbag and cleared his throat. He nodded briefly to Alessandro but said nothing.

"Why don't you join us for dinner?" Clarissa asked and Alessandro accepted. Of course he had hoped to get an invitation.

He winked at Luca and followed. "How come you have changed your mind?" Marcello asked over the kitchen table where they all had gathered, waiting for the rabbit to be served.

"Scusa?" Alessandro said. "Studying is so unusual for your family. I mean, I thought you had enough money to live on."

"And who tells you that I study to earn money? Sometimes I do things for pure pleasure." He thanked Clarissa who had put a plate with rabbit in front of him. She served him some of roasted potatoes that smelled heavenly of rosemary.

"History of art, piccolino said." Alessandro nodded.

"There's no money in it", Dante grumbled, crouched over his plate.

"Why? As far as I understand you're busy with art too." Alessandro dabbed his mouth with the serviette and tried a gulp from the herb white wine Niccolò had surprisingly offered.

"I do something with my hands", Dante said proudly, briefly lifting his palms.

"And you? What is there to learn anyway?" Clarissa shot him a look.

"I'm sure, Dante, that our town lives from the many works of arts displayed here. Or do you fancy to work in a large industrial factory?"

"Right", Luca chimed in, "You would be nothing without the museums here." And anyway, Alessandro thought, you're just a stone cutter, but he swallowed the words with a large bite of the tender rabbit Clarissa had spiced with black olives and dried tomatoes.

"I'm not talking to you", Dante said, eyeing his youngest brother. Niccolò cleared his throat. He had said nothing so far since the family had arrived home. This showed his obvious disapproval that his wife had invited this layabout but for his holy Sunday's peace he held his mouth. It was bad enough that Luca was spending so much time with him. And what did Clarissa see in him anyway? The rest of the meal passed in silence, until Luca wanted to show Alessandro his room. He wasn't ashamed of it anymore. The Lapis lazuli was laying on the window sill, carefully protected with a cloth, Luca unveiled it.

"Any idea what to do with it?"

"Father said I shouldn't show it around. Later, when I've learnt the technique I can work with it. I think I know what to do."

"What then?"

"Secret." Alessandro smirked. "Secret?" He came closer and stroked Luca's neck and his thick hair. "Do you have any idea what we can do before I have to go at least?" Luca shrugged. Actually he wished for nothing more than to slip into bed with Sandro, despite the fact that his arse felt sore and so was his genitals. Alessandro seemed to have the same thoughts for his blue eyes started to sparkle. Without a word he took Luca's hand.

"Wait", Luca said, "I need the loo urgently."

Alessandro was still weighing the stone in his hand when Dante came and stood in the door way. "I thought I'd better check on you."

"Huh?" Alessandro turned.

"Before what happens?" he finished the sentence. Dante stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"You still don't have enough?" he growled. Dante was a half head larger and probably 25 pounds heavier, but Alessandro didn't feel fear.

"I've heard you're about to attend the Gioco? How do you intend to fight against my team?" He looked Alessandro up and down.

"You're just a half portion, I'll easily break every single bone of yours."

"We'll see. Weight isn't everything", Alessandro quipped. He came closer until he stood in front of Dante.

"Better to exercise some abstinence. You know that fucking gives you weak legs", he sneered.

"But I'm sure you're not having half of much sex as I earn." Surprisingly Dante broke out into laughter.

"Have you? With your faggot friends? You don't call that sex, do you. It's like fucking with goats." Alessandro raised his hand and slapped Dante's cheek. The strike was heavy, and Dante's head flung back. Beet red he stared at Alessandro.

Fury was boiling in his black eyes. "Don't you dare do that again, Gondi. I warn you."

"I warn you, I warn you", Alessandro parroted.

"When you're with friends you're strong, right? But alone you're just a little wretched sausage." He stood aside.

"Come on, big one." He beckoned him. "Or are you afraid of a faggot. I can show you real sex." Luca stood in the door again, looking flabbergasted at his brother and his boyfriend, standing like two fighting cocks with ruffled up plumage.

"What's the matter with you both? One minute alone and you start to fight." Quickly he tugged at Sandro's sleeve and pulled him out of the room.

"What's the matter with your brother?" Alessandro asked when they were out on the streets.

"Why this attitude?" "You mean his homophobic attitude? He says he has been groped by gays too often."

"So what? I'd take it as compliment."

"Pah, you don't know the straight macho man he is. Submitting to another male means defeat."

"Why?" Luca shook his hand.

"Honestly, I don't know. It's not about what the church says. It has a deeper meaning." Alessandro eyed Luca from aside. He didn't understand what he was trying to say. Probably Luca didn't understand himself. No gay man could understand this behaviour. Were they afraid of admitting that the male body had something alluring and beautiful? And why could a woman admit that another woman was beautiful without being accused of being a lesbian? He sighed. The world was hard to understand. Luca listened to Alessandro's purring as he sat leg's spread upon the wicker bench in the open loggia in Alessandro's room; his boyfriend kneeling between his thighs, deep throating and sucking at Luca's penis. He had come twice already and wondered about the never ending supply his body was providing. Never ending and never tiring - the fortune of being seventeen. He wanted to lay down, but Sandro's bag was already packed and waited down in the kitchen. Alessandro finally released his cock and crawled up on the bench, straddling Luca and sitting down in his lap. He took the cross, dangling between Luca's pecs and weighed it in his palm. "I'm glad you wear it", he said, rubbing his penis gently over Luca's belly.

"I wear it always. Nobody has seen it so far." Sunbeams died upon Alessandro's naked skin, a last reflection met his hair, made it flaming red with a golden aureole. Luca felt cold despite the closeness. "When will you return?"

"Next week you're coming to Pisa, sweetie", Alessandro reminded him. "You promised to show up with your family, you've forgotten?"

"Hell, yes." Luca beamed. "Giano and mother that is."

"So, we'll see each other then. What's the problem?" Luca said nothing. He watched Sandro stepping from his lap and walking into his room. His butt cheeks gleamed in the setting sun, rosy and ivory, the rest of his skin was bathed in a delicate bronze tan. Who of the guys would resist that beauty? And would Sandro's libido stand the parting? Luca sighed, clutched the cross with his palm and followed him. * * * * * When a knock came at his door, Alessandro didn't know at first where he was. He blinked at the closed curtains and felt the hard mattress under his back. Shit, if he had to spend the next few years in this bed he would have to buy another or his back would be sore. Another knock. "Come on in", he groaned. Franco opened the door and stuck his head in. "Buon giorno, sleepy head. Ready for breakfast?" he asked cheerily and Alessandro groaned. "Geez, it's in the middle of the night."

"Not my fault you came back so late yesterday. Big farewell scene with your boyfriend?" he asked cheekily. "Sure enough." Alessandro pushed away the bed cover and stepped stark naked out of the bed. Franco looked a trifle embarrassed. His eyes followed Sandro crossing the room. "If you can wait a minute I'll be ready", he heard him saying before he vanished into the bathroom. By afternoon the university was filling up with students dropping back by and by after their semester break. There were even new students who would be starting their first semester like Alessandro. But no one was sharing his room, no wonder, since Sandro had made sure that there wouldn't be one, offering the caretaker a certain amount of Euros. He had his own plans and he was sure that Luca wouldn't agree. Franco made him meet some of his friends whose names Sandro always mixed up. There were too many Claudio's, Mario's and Tino's to be memorized. Somehow it was always Franco who crossed his path and he felt comfortable with. By Friday the longing for Luca was great despite that they were talking every evening on the phone. It just wasn't the same and Sandro was looking to tomorrow when the Montori's would arrive. "Up for a Friday out?" Franco asked him when they had finished their meal at the student's cantina that had newly opened. Sandro felt still hungry. Those meals were something for swines he thought, though Franco seemed to be satisfied. "If there's something to eat I'm with you", he retorted, catching an amused look. "Your noble stomach's pretty spoilt, huh?" he said.

Alessandro had told him about his upbringing and that was a source for Franco's good humoured teasing. Alessandro had been furious at first, but over time he had gotten used to it.

"Exactly." He eyed Franco's slim features and the stubble upon his head.

"Don't you think you should grow your hair? You look like someone from the Russian army." He slapped Franco's stomach and laughed.

"And anyway, where do you want to drag me too? Are there any gay bars in town?" Franco rolled his eyes and pushed him hard.

"That's for the Russian army comment, bugger. Besides, I thought you'd be the expert in finding gay bars. You won't mind me following you, eh?" "Why not? Some guys are keen on trimmed hair cuts." Franco moaned. "Why don't you join the community club here? There are dozens of kindred spirits."

"Indeed?" Franco nodded, but Alessandro dismissed the thought. He wasn't keen on displaying his sexuality and probably would be drawn into a class fight between the good straights and the pitiful gays, fighting for the rights the straights would assign them like crumbs for the dogs. "Not interested", he said. "Now, do you know any?"

"Wait a sec." Franco returned with a gay guide he had borrowed from a fellow student. "There you are. The first one is in the student's quarter a few steps from where we used to have breakfast."

"Great. Now then, hurry up." He slapped Franco slightly with the guide and was surprised that Franco obeyed. He returned in a pink shirt, and the tightest light blue jeans he had. "Good enough?" Alessandro stared speechless. "What funny ideas you straights have", he howled. "But come on. That's fine." "Isn't your boyfriend coming tomorrow?" Franco shouted into his ear. They leaned against a wall in the darkness, only illuminated by a red light from lamps that were hidden in all four corners of the small room. The dance floor in the middle of it was empty and just a few guys were lounging nonchalantly at the bar, trying to make small talk. "How's this for a wretched establishment? Has Pisa nothing better to offer? I mean, it's Friday!" "Ever been to a straight disco?" Franco asked him.

"Sure. I even fucked a girl if that's your next question." Franco's eyes shot open. "Have you. Why?" Alessandro went to the bar and came back with two fresh beer. "Why? Because there was nothing better at that time." Franco swallowed his beer wrongly. "You're pretty cocky, my dear. What makes you think that girls are less worthy than your boys." "I don't mean they are less worthy. It's just less fun." Franco sipped at his beer. "Then let's get out of here. Along the street is another bar for gays." Alessandro followed him, leaving the beer. The Night In was stuffed, the music loud and the guys all dressed up from hair to shoes. Franco felt appropriatedly dressed with his pink shirt and relaxed visibly though he was outshone by Sandro's white, tight fitting pullover that emphasised his pecs and showed his nipples, not to mention the tight, black satin trousers. Apparently Franco had a lot to learn about the dress code. Abruptly he felt himself dragged into the middle of the dance floor, felt pushed by other couples and watched Alessandro moving to the music like a graceful cat. Madonna. But then the drowning music took the upper hand, he felt the beat in his guts and the bass in his abdomen and it didn't count anymore whether he was dancing with a guy or a girl. Panting and thirsty they ordered beer and disappeared into a corner to watch the entertainment. "So, that's what it's about?" Franco asked, watching guys snogging, hands shoved between skin and jeans, half undressed.

"That's about it." Alessandro said with gleaming eyes. He had to bring Luca here tomorrow. He had always fancied sex on the dance floor. "That's where you would pick up your one night stands, eh?" "Don't you do the same with your chicks? What's the difference?" "Well... chicks usually don't go for a one night stand." "Don't they? You've met the wrong ones then." Alessandro said arrogantly. Franco shook his head in disbelief. "So it's true then, yes? Gays gave more sex. More, longer and better?" "Exactly." "And why?" Alessandro turned to Franco and looked at him meaningfully. "It's because you get what you want. I could show you what I mean, but what for? I don't want to confuse you." He paused. "But one thing you can explain to me. What is the reason behind a homophobic attitude?"

"You mean you don't want to sleep with a straight because you're afraid I might like it?" Franco grinned. Alessandro shrugged. "Perhaps I don't want you to share my playground." "Alright, that's a compliment." "What about my question?" Franco caught stares and winks and looked away. He was overwhelmed by too much testosterone. He wouldn't know what to do if one of the guys came up to him and asked for a dance. Or worse... Worse? Why worse? It might be that Alessandro was right. You get what you want. Only a guy knows what a guy likes - as the saying goes. But that wasn't of course a basis for a relationship. What had he in common with another man? He looked at Alessandro searching for an answer. Well, friendship of course. Perhaps the same interests that went beyond shopping sprees, nail studios, hairdressers and marriage. "I haven't thought about that, honestly", he said then. "I've never been homophobic. Why should I be?" "Because a guy showed interest, asked you out, and you felt repulsed? What if I was to kiss you right here and now? Would you feel flattered?" "Flattered? Well, I don't know. Why should I feel flattered?" "Well, if it was a girl kissing you, you would certainly feel flattered."

"Madonna, what's this about? I'm straight. I love girls. You and me - we can't come together. We have different needs." Alessandro looked back at the dancing guys. Franco was right. This phenomena wasn't to be explained. Some say, homophobes were afraid to show their feelings, or they were afraid they would find the same liking deep within themselves. Didn't they say that everybody was a bit gay? So why not let it out. "Alright," he said aloud. "Then you can dance with me for a while." He sat his glass upon the next table and took Franco with him. When they came home, a little drunken and in a joyful mood, a letter was waiting for Alessandro. It was from Florence and the sender's name read Luca Montori. Alessandro tore open the envelopment and a letter fell out, together with a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully and saw a drawing of himself, in all his glorious nakedness. Alessandro laughed out loud. He could certainly see Luca's face when he had stuffed the drawing into the letter, grinning mischievously as he always did, with his pearly laughter upon his lips.

"This is my evening occupation", he read. "And before you start to ask: yes, I'm jerking off as much as I can - afterwards. Hm... do you like it? See you soon. Luca" Alessandro pinned the drawing onto the door of his wardrobe. He hoped the next one would be a naked Luca. * * * When he saw him, his heart beat faster than it had ever done and he wondered what Luca had done to him. He had never been in love, so was this a sign of it? Luca waved out of the window of the train and Alessandro ran up to the wagon's door. Luca embraced him, though he could stop himself starting a long kissing session. Giano followed him, carrying two suitcases. "Books", he explained, shaking Alessandro's hand.

"Where's your mother?" "Father has become ill, so she couldn't come." Giano said. "Oh, I hope nothing serious?" "Just a summer's cold. But he felt awful." Alessandro nodded. "So it's just the two of your, right?" His eyes sparkled. "Come on then." He stowed away Giano's suitcases into his Ferrari and they drove the short way from the railway station to the campus of the University. "Ever been to Pisa before?" "Sure, but a long time ago." "You were a kid", Giano throw in. Alessandro unloaded the baggage and parked his car in the guarded parking lot nearby. Luca and Giano stood in the large yard, the lawn in the middle of it was sprinkled with water hoses and they examined the impressive Renaissance pillars and -arches connecting the ground floor with the second, leaving a continuous balcony from which doors and windows branched off.

"My room's in the building attached. Behind those." He pointed with his hand and took one of Giano's suitcases. "Everybody has to register with the care-taker who has the keys and a plan. Then we have to go to the secretary to make it official. No hurry of course." The care-taker, as always chewing at his slices of bread and sipping at his flask of wine, found Giano's name and put him into a four-bed-room. Alessandro flinched inwardly. He couldn't stand to live with three other guys in the same room, but Giano didn't show any sign of discomfort. Apparently he was prepared for it. In the afternoon he showed the brothers around and paid for their supper, both were uneasily accepting. Those Montoris were proud, he thought. A bit like him. Typical Florentine. It was of course no problem for Luca to convince his brother that since there was a bed free in Alessandro's room he would sleep there.

"I see your beauty outdid my drawing a lot", Luca whispered and grinned while he was creeping into the bed next to Alessandro. It was small and nothing like his bed at home, but this was better than nothing. He pushed away the cover and revealed Alessandro's body, waiting for him. "What makes you think I'm beautiful?" Alessandro said with a hint of cockiness. "You're fishing for compliments." Luca stroked his legs up and halted at the fork of them, where Alessandro's equipment was about to rise. "Others say I'm too slim."

"Hm. What do you mean? This?" Luca's hand embraced Alessandro's penis. "This certainly isn't too slim", he chuckled. "Dante said he would break every bone of mine", Alessandro mumbled, succumbing to Luca's stroking hand. "Dante's a pillock. He doesn't know how quick you can be." "Quick? You mean premature ejaculation?" Luca gave a snort of laughter.

"Nothing that can't rise again." He stroked faster now while kissing Sandro's lips and felt his penis jerking and shooting, gushing over his belly and finally his hand. "That was indeed premature." Two filled condoms later Luca lay tightly pressed to Alessandro's body, letting his sweat dry in the soft breeze that came through the window. "Dante might be right," he started quietly. "I can't believe you're determined to attend the Gioco." "Too late, gioia. They've already put me on their list. They need a fast sprinter who's good with the ball. I can easily avoid Dante's stomping." "So, that's your plan?"

"Right." Luca couldn't keep his eyes open. His mind glided into oblivion, guided by Sandro's stroking hands. He was woken up by a harsh knock on the door and its instant opening. "Sandro, there's your... oh..." Luca saw a head with short cropped hair that vanished at that very minute and the door was closed. "What's the matter?" Alessandro murmured sleepily.

"There was a guy at the door", Luca said, untangling himself from Sandro's arms and legs. "A guy? Your brother?" "No." Luca sat upright and wiped his eyes. "Probably Franco", Alessandro said after his brain function set in. "He always does this. Early bird."

"But he saw us." "So what. He knows about you and me." Luca fell back onto the pillow next to Alessandro's head. "That's good then. Friend of yours? Gay?" "No. Straight as an arrow. I could convince him to follow me to a gay bar, but he couldn't decide to say yes to a guy making advances." Luca was up again. "You've been to a gay bar? When?" "Yesterday. Is it forbidden?" Luca said nothing. Though he felt a small sting in his heart. "Of course not", he mumbled. Alessandro was stroking the skin of his back and pulled him down to his side.

"No reason to worry. I did nothing." His eyes were milky blue from sleep. "He took good care of me." He winked and chewed on Luca's earlobe. "Guess we've got to get up." * * * They met at the ceremonious semester-opening in the Aula Magna - the assembly hall - of the university. The president - a relatively young man with a shock of black hair that was always falling into his eyes and he flung back with a swing of his head - greeted the first semester students, referring to the long history of the university of Pisa, founded in the 12th century and whose most-famous student had been Galileo Galilei who had afterwards held a chair for mathematics and physics. Alessandro, knowing all this, examined the students, sitting in rows on red, upholstered chairs. The walls were covered with greasy oil paintings showing previous rectors and presidents, and the windows were decorated with coloured bull's eye panes in a theme Alessandro couldn't decipher. He sat with Giano in the last row, and behind them sat and stood family and friends. He turned his head when the door opened and a girl entered the room, cheeks flushed with embarrassment because she was too late. Alessandro gasped. He knew her very well: Leoni da Firenzuola, a chick he was friends with and had laid several times, in the past. Actually they had met the last time at the Teatro Verdi when he and Luca was watching 'Tosca'. He cursed under his breath. What an unpleasant coincidence. She hadn't told him that she would be going to Pisa too. She sat next to him on the last free seat and breathed out audibly. Then she turned her head to him and fluttered her eye lashes.

"Hi Sandro. I lost my way. It's all too exciting here." He mumbled something incomprehensiveable. With her orange dyed hair she looked somewhat like a carrot and he wondered why he had ever been keen on her. He must have been drunk then. But then, you could have a lot of fun with her if you liked to, he thought. Probably just the right chick for Franco. He wondered though what to do with her when the ceremony was over. Leoni could be a real leech. "What are you studying? You haven't told me", he whispered.

"History of art, like you", she informed him, beaming. He moaned inwardly. This meant he wouldn't be able to get rid of her. "History of art?" he repeated aloud as the students streamed out of the Aula. She followed him to the big hallway where several marble statues stood. He knew Luca was waiting for him anxiously and he rolled his eyes at him, indicating that he was annoyed by the girl's presence.

"What do you want to do with that? Become a tourist's guide?"

"Perhaps? But not an outside tour guide, rather in a museum where it never rains." Alessandro's laughter was harsh and abrupt. "Well, then, good luck. I have to go." He turned but halted then. "Where do you live?"

"I have a comfortable single room", she chirped. "Close to you, I've learnt." Just great. Alessandro nodded and went across to the waiting Luca and Giano. "So, honeys, what are we doing with the evening? Have you met your room mates?" he asked Giano. "Two of them. The third either didn't show up or he's coming later. Seems to be alright." Alessandro saw Luca's longing eyes and wished for nothing more than to take him to Night In for a nice dance, but what should he do with Giano then? "Well, I'm off", Luca's brother surprisingly said, as if he had sensed the situation. "Have fun both of you. I need to unpack my things. See you in the morning then." He gave Luca an odd glance that he couldn't interpret and went away.

"Your brother's sensible." "Who was the girl you was talking to?" Luca asked when they were alone in Alessandro's room, getting ready for going out. "You've met her at the opera." Luca looked confused, then he remembered the three girls besieging Sandro. "Your school friend?"

"Sort of."

Luca stood himself in front of the undressing Alessandro. "What kind of ort of? You slept with her, right?"

"Is it that obvious? Embarrassing."

Luca raised his eyebrows. "I guess I'll have to send you a drawing of me so you won't forget how I look, eh?"

Alessandro quickly pulled him close to his naked body. "Looking forward to it. But why forget? You're etched into my eyes." A happy laughter followed and Luca joined in with his pearly laugh.

                                  

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19

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The next week Alessandro was occupied with choosing the seminars and lectures he had to take. First he chose 'Basis of the Occidental Art', then a discussion seminar, and then he took all of the lectures that were concerned with the art of the Renaissance. It would give him as much background as he needed for his hometown, since the Renaissance was founded in Florence. The special lectures would have to wait for the next semesters, but he had a very clear idea of what they would be. To his great annoyance, Leoni chose the same lectures as himself. In fact, she was always crossing his path, and since they were using the same kitchen, attached to their rooms, it was hard for Alessandro to avoid her. Not that he was a good cook, in fact, he couldn't cook at all, but once in a while he wanted scrambled eggs, or a coffee and she was always sitting there with her nose in a book, stirring the sugar in her tea while smoking non-stop, or chattering with her friend Maresa. She always acted then as if Alessandro was her boyfriend and this was pissing him off no end.

When he felt sort of lonely he wrote letters to Luca. He had found out that writing sorted his mind, and it was much more pleasurable than to phone, although hearing Luca's voice close to his ear made all of his hairs stand on end with longing.

* * *

Luca flung his body upon his bed and started to read Sandro's latest letter. He loved his idea to write rather than to talk. So he could keep his letters as a memory for always and ever.

"Gioia,

I think I miss you a great deal. I'm not sure if I'm coming to Firenze this weekend. I have so much to deal with. As you know, my knowledge about Florence's arts has a wide range but to start from scratch is somewhat exhausting. They want us to learn about the very start of it. And it simply didn't start in our hometown, but in the caves of France whose name I always forget. You know, those funny scribblings on the cave's walls of hunters and deer. Actually it's quite interesting but I spend more time in the library than is good for me. My tan is vanishing and the rest of my body matches the white of my arse now 😉 That reminds me.... Do you feel a certain emptiness there? I definitely do.

What am I writing here... I'll try to come, but I can't promise. Your brother told me that his room mate is snoring so loud that he can't sleep at night. What is going on in my mind is this; I suggested to him to move over to my room. At least I don't snore as you know. So... what do you think about that? I suggested it but Giano refused. Stubbornness seems to be a Montori-thing. Perhaps you can persuade him. But in the end, it's not my sleepless nights. But Giano has rings under his eyes and he needs all his strength for his study. Medicine seems to be a difficult thing to me.

How is your apprenticeship going? And did your friend finally get out of hospital? Have you been seduced by Tristano yet???

All my love and XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alessandro"

Luca lay motionless for a while and pondered. Why wouldn't Giano move into Sandro's room? Shit, of course because he was so sensible to think that if he would, they hadn't a place for themselves when Luca visited Sandro next time. Right? That was true, but next time Sandro would come to him and they had room then. So, what the hell. He took a sheet of paper and started to write his brother.

* * *

Luca hadn't heard from Sandro for a couple of days. His mobile was turned off but Luca thought that he could hardly take it to his lectures. But he didn't want to worry too much. Sandro didn't like it when he was too much of a leech. He tried to occupy himself with the lessons he himself had to master, and this wasn't a small task. Coppo had given them drawing boards with movable protractors and right angles where they were supposed to draw grids. At home he struggled with complicated scale calculations and had to ask Tristano for help. Surely his father would had helped him out but Luca didn't want to ask him. Not that Niccolò wouldn't help; but Luca wanted to learn it his way.

"We start with geometric figures, ragazzi", Coppo's voice drowned through the room. "I stress here that we don't start with curved lines but with straight ones. Imagine a square or a rectangle.. What can you build with them?"

"Houses for instance", a girl piped up.

"Yes, that’s one instance. I want you to draw a house. Squares and triangles. Please draw it in difference sizes. First the original, then in the scale 1:2 upon your grids."

Luca blew out his cheeks. Not again the scale calculations. Tristano was looking at him from where he was sitting over on the opposite side of the table. Then he wrote the formula for the calculation upon a note and shoved it over to Luca. With that it wasn't so difficult anymore for Luca to draw the right proportions and Coppo was pleased. Luca put Tristano's note into his lesson book for later use. About time that he was memorizing it.

"The secret of a pietre dure work is its exactness. At the end of the semester you will all be able to lay a simple ornament. At first without the stony background of course."

Luca felt Tristano's eyes on him. In fact the whole week he had caught those stares. But whenever Luca went to ask, Tris acted normal again. Could it be right what Sandro had said? That Tris was gay? In love with him? Nonsense. Tris had a girl friend. Though he wasn't talking about her. In fact, he had never told him about her, at least not in detail.

Luca's eyes smiled into Tristano's. Lapis lazuli blue.. "Do you know I have a lapis lazuli at home?" he whispered. "It's like your eyes."

To Luca's surprise Tristano blushed furiously and looked down at his drawing board. Luca nudged his leg. "What would you do with the stone?"

Tristano shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Luca's view.

"Why did you have to say that?" Tristano said later in the cantina. "Lapis lazuli blue! Have you learnt this queer's behaviour from your friend?"

Luca almost dropped his plate. A stab of disappointment pierced his heart. "Queer's behaviour? Because I said I like your eyes?"

"You know I have a girlfriend, so you don't have to try it on with me." Tristano set his plate vehemently upon the table. Luca stood. "You speak surprisingly little about her. Can't be a big love then." He turned and sat at another table. But he would have preferably thrown the meal into the trash bin. Was he bound to lose everybody just because he was friends with Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola? Even the gentle Tristano? Luca left his untouched plate and exited the cantina alone.

Outside Tristano was waiting and tapped his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Luca. I'm just .. confused." He stretched out his hand. "Forgive me?"

Luca pressed Tristano's hand, then he walked on with him, into the small, square yard of the museum's building. It was a hot day, but inside the old palazzi it was always pleasantly cool. A laurel tree provided shade next to an old well in the middle of a piece of lawn. Luca sat upon the low stony balustrade that was connected with arches and pillars and Tristano sat beside him. "I know you're confused", Luca started quietly. "You don't know what to think, right? I'm friends with Alessandro Gondi, the faggot. And your conclusion is, I'm a faggot too." He darted a quick look from under his lashes to see Tris was looking down at his shoes. Luca wondered what he would say when he told Tris what Sandro had said about him. but that was sealed in his heart. No way he would tell him.

Tristano was still silent.

"Listen, if you don't want to be friends with a faggot, say it and I’ll leave you."

Now Tristano looked at him, completely bewildered. "What makes you think I don't want to be friends with you anymore?"

Luca eyed him and read the confirmation in his eyes, that Tris was busy with other problems. Suddenly Luca grinned. "So I'm allowed to tell you that your eyes are as beautiful as my lapis lazuli? Eh?"

Tristano nudged his knee with his own. And suddenly Luca was very hungry.

From that moment on their friendship had something magical. Luca could neither describe it nor comprehend it, nor express it to himself. There were unspoken feelings wavering between both young men, something Luca almost could grab. But they remained unspoken and Tristano never mentioned the incident again. Of course he left Luca in darkness about his presumptions concerning Luca's sexuality. Luca was the friend of Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola and Tris was satisfied with that. Though - when Luca caught Tristano in a moment of unawareness, the deep lapis lazuli eyes were unfocussed. Drifting off into nowhere. Sometimes they were watching Luca, as if to measure his body. As if he had never seen another male body apart from his own. And deep down - very deep down - Luca felt a tinge of power. When previously it had been he himself who had adored the noblesse of a Gondi, it was now a sensual feeling of being adored. Because that's what it was; Tristano was just too shy to admit it.

"Carissimo,

So, my letter to Giano helped, eh? I wondered what he was waiting for to enable him to share the room with you. Well, of course I know. In case he hasn't told you the real reason Giano can't afford the extra cost for the luxury room, capisce? How did you manage it so that he accepted? This guy really must saw a forest each night. Anyway, does he behave well? Do you behave well?

Bad news from the home front. Concerning the Gioco, my old friend Raniero - the one who shot the fireworks in my direction at the football match - is back. He wasn't sentenced to jail but for charitable work, you know caring for flower beds and lawns, scrubbing walls and windows, delivering food for the sick and mending the pitch in the stadium. That also means that he's back in my school class and he has proudly announced his acceptance to play for the Quartiero San Giovanni - that's yours - at the Calcio in Costume. How do you like that?

Concerning Tristano I guess you are right. We had a little tiff recently because I said I thought his eyes were like my lapis lazuli and he was embarrassed. But he apologized. I don't know what he thinks of me. If he thinks that I'm your boyfriend or just your friend... And he never tells me about himself. I'm sure he has dumped his girlfriend.

Give my greetings to Franco. I hope to see you next weekend. I miss you.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Luca"

* * *

The kitchen was thick with smoke when Alessandro opened the door to get himself a bottle of juice from the fridge. Of course there wasn't any albeit he had bought several bottles of it. Leoni sat innocently at the table, puffing like a chimney. "Have you seen the juice? Yesterday there were three full bottles of it in the fridge."

Leoni turned and fluttered her eye lashes. She had painted the lids with a thick green colour which she thought would go excellently with her carrot hair.

"Have you seen where the juice has gone?"

"Juice? Oh, that was yours?"

Alessandro rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "All right. If we have to share the fridge I'd say we need some rules, all right? The upper shelf is mine, you can chose another and so on. I'll let the others know. And I'm putting a label upon the bottles." He eyed the ashtray. "Can I have one?"

"I thought you had quit smoking." She tossed him a cigarette. He lit it and filled a glass with water from the tap. "You smoke like a steamroller, honey. It's healthier to smoke than to inhale yours."

Leoni sat indifferent but was smiling constantly at him. "You're a good match now that your father is dead. He has surely left some money for you, right?"

"That’s what you think?" Alessandro blew grey smoke into the room and pierced her eyes. Apparently the bush telegraph wasn't working as well as he thought. He joined her at the table and leaned forward. "Want to marry me?"

To his great surprise Leoni looked down and blushed. Then she wiped her cheeks as if she was tired. "You know that we were promised."

"When were we?"

Her blue-green, slightly protruding eyes looked accusingly at him. "You've forgotten! Back in school we said we were engaged."

Alessandro laughed out loud. "And you believed that? Honey, it was a joke, a child's game. You still act as if I was your boyfriend." He toasted her with his glass of water and drank. "You've got really funny ideas."

"No", she snapped. "I know you've turned out to be a faggot. You'd rather sleep with boys than with me. Everybody's saying that."

"Who's everybody?"

"Whole of Firenze! You think nobody saw you when you was licking the guys' faces? And now you've found your private lap dog." She twisted her mouth, disgusted. "Ugh, I can't imagine what he's doing with your ... lap."

Alessandro thought it highly amusing. He snorted into his water glass and wiped his mouth. "You're really too funny." Then he eyed her from her carrot hair to the small chin, over her small shoulders to her tiny breasts. She had always been way too thin. But probably that had been the reason that he was keen on her. She had the gracious, slender body of a male. Could it be that she would accept if he asked her to marry him? She would, he was sure. That would be easy. But what would come afterwards - sharing the bed with her, sleeping with her until she got pregnant? And if it was a girl what then? His stomach hurt. He had tasted from the male body too long to know where he belonged now. Uncle Arrigo had promised to take care of that. An artificial insemination probably. But would she accept it?

Alessandro watched her puffing blue smoke. Of course she would with the right amount of money. Would she? Carrying a child wasn't that easy, nor give birth to it. And the Gondi-Lucertola's would claim the baby for themselves. Leoni being the mother was out of the question. What woman would accept that?

"What are you staring at?" Leoni snapped suddenly. "Have I smudge on my nose?"

"No, sorry. I was just thinking. Are you disappointed that I prefer boys?"

"Sure I am, what do you think." She fluttered again her lashes. "No chance you could be bi?"

Alessandro shook his head. There had been a time when he had thought he could have fun with both. He had been very young then. Hardly fifteen. But time had taught him that he had to decide. Playing in both teams was too exhausting. And it just wasn't fair. You had to hurt someone all the time. "So, would you please stop telling the others I'm your boyfriend?"

"But you're the heartthrob of all the girls here, haven't you noticed? You're the best looking guy on the Campus." She almost knocked over her glass. "Can't you imagine how proud I am to know you and being known as your girlfriend?" She breathed hard. "But, sure. Now you've gone and picked up that guy and made him share your room. It's the brother of your little fag at home, right? Nicely done, Sandro. Now you fuck the brother. Is he better?"

Alessandro went pale. He had never had any intention to fuck with Luca's brother. He might be a slut, but family matters were serious.

He thought Leoni's comment wasn't worth an answer, so he stubbed out his cigarette and left her. He found Giano upon his bed, with a book in front of his nose. Alessandro saw photos of glasses with human parts. He felt even more sick but he smiled at Giano and went over to his own bed.

"You smoke?" Giano asked casually.

"Once in a while. Leoni's puffing away until the kitchen walls are yellow."

Giano grinned. "You know her well?" He clapped shut his book and stretched out upon his bed that he had covered with a bedspread. "She tells everybody who wants to hear that you and she are a couple. That you will marry her when you've finished your study."

"Does she?" Alessandro mumbled, likewise stretching out upon his bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "I guessed so. She told me about it right now."

"What did she tell you? That she's your girlfriend?" Giano had raised his eyebrows and looked now like his youngest brother. Alessandro felt a little twinge in his guts.

"Luca told me different things", Giano said.

"You were talking about me?"

"Luca was disappointed that you didn't want to see him this weekend."

"That's no answer to my question."

"It was." Giano was peering and Alessandro propped his elbow upon the bed and looked back. "I've seen you", he said slowly.

Giano didn't answer right away. "I know", he said after a while.

"Luca knows?"

Giano shook his head.

"So we can be open with each other?" Alessandro asked.

"Of course. I know you've seen me in the gay bars. Thanks for keeping your mouth shut."

Alessandro sat upright and folded his legs upon the bed. "So why haven't you told Luca? I mean, he would be the first to understand you."

Giano twisted his lips. "Luca is bolder than I am. He has you. I have nobody."

"You have me", Alessandro suggested.

"That's the reason you want me to be your roomie? To get me into your bed?" Giano spoke softly, but Alessandro heard fear behind the words and a touch of eagerness.

"You think me that cock driven?"

"Exactly."

Both grinned. "Don't be stupid. Leoni knows I'm gay. She knows about my affair with Luca. And she knows you. She thinks the same as you do."

"Huh? That you want to start an affair with me?"

Alessandro nodded. "Listen, Franco told me about a community club. Why don't you join?"

Giano looked bewildered. "I'd never have the guts to go there."

"But why? That's nonsense."

Giano laughed harshly. "For you it might be easy, but not for me. Everybody is sizing me up. Staring at my arse and cock."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Giano gave a little, disapproving snort. "You don't understand. I'm not like you." He opened his book again and pretended to read. "Our parents would beat the shit out of us if they knew", he mumbled but Alessandro pricked up his ears. "You mean your brothers."

"Them too. Luca told me about his suspicion about Dante and your beating on the street. I don't long to be the next victim."

"Next time it's Dante who'll be beaten up."

Giano looked up. "What do you mean? Dante knows how to fight."

"And Marcello? Is he the same?"

"He's his brother's lap dog - so to speak. He's always done what Dante says."

"Funny." Alessandro sighed. "Let's work for a while. Tonight's a community meeting. Perhaps you'd like to go if I join you?"

"As my guard?"

"For example. Come on, don't be such a wimp. They won't do you any harm, quite the opposite. I bet you'll have ten boys at each finger tonight. Look at you."

"What do you mean look at me?"

Alessandro stood up and sat right next to Giano upon the bed. "You're almost as cute as Luca. Everybody will be mad for your blond hair."

Giano raised his brows but then something started to glisten in his eyes. "Don't try to tempt me", he whispered.

Alessandro laughed friendly. "I would certainly try." He lifted Giano's chin. "You've never done it?"

Giano jerked back. "Of course not."

Alessandro said nothing for a while. Then his look fell upon Giano's books. "I wonder why you want to become a surgeon? That's the worse, gioia."

Giano blushed a bit at the tender address. "I have no talent for cutting stones or applying them into pictures."

"How do you know when you've never tried?"

"I've tried. And I'm not interested."

"I can't stand the sight of blood."

Giano laughed. "And you want to attend the bloody Gioco? How's that? I bet you'll see a lot of blood then."

"As long as it isn't mine... I need to start a training programme", he said then. "Franco wants to join me running. What about you?"

"Perhaps." Again Giano got absorbed in the pictures of preparation and anatomy. Sighing Alessandro rose and went over to his own bed. He opened the textbook about Protorenaissance in Florence.

"When are we going tonight?" he heard Giano asking quietly. He looked up and winked at Giano.

"And I also rather need a job to pay the rent for this room", Giano continued. "Perhaps Franco knows about something for me."

Alessandro decided there wasn't a chance to talk about this with Giano because the Montoris were too proud to take money from others. Especially not from a Gondi-Lucertola.

Giano had given himself Dutch courage at the student's cafe before Alessandro had picked him up to join the meeting at the community club Sardonic Grin.

He felt a little dizzy in the head when they walked down the steps leading to a underground basement that was shrouded in red light. "Looks like a brothel", Alessandro mumbled. "That's probably the Pisan imagination of a gay pub. I wonder if they have darkrooms?"

"Huh?" Giano looked at him from aside and had hold of Alessandro's hand for protection. He certainly was a wimp. He had imagined that the community club would be a platform for all too important discussions about their rights as homosexual students, with butches and spectacled, intellectualized swots. But to his surprise it was quite casual, no dressed up boys or girls, showing off a lot of skin and make up.

In the background soft music was playing and around the round tables were grouped all sorts of students, drinking straight from bottles. Thick smoke filled the rooms. Alessandro felt instantly at home. He headed for the bar and ordered two cheap beers. Not exactly his cup of tea but what the hell. He knew that students were always short of money. He pressed one of the cans into Giano's hand and sat with him at a table that was already occupied by two boys and a girl of their age. He literally felt Giano's body tighten and wished he would empty his beer can in one go. Perhaps then he would loosen up.

From the table next to them he listened to the constant chatter of a guy who was a bit round around his hips but was talking animatedly with feet and hands. His audience was laughing constantly. Alessandro watched him for a while then turned to Giano, grinning. "Like it here?"

Giano shrugged. "Don't know yet." He eyed his surroundings, then his eyes examined his table-mates. The guys were absorbed with each other, and the girl was tapping her finger nails to the rhythm of the pulsating, low drums of the background music. She looked annoyed.

Alessandro lifted a booklet from the desk and was leafing through it. "Announcements of activities in the coming months. Hey, they even have a pride week. Crap, that's the weekend of the Gioco", he said disappointed. "What about you? Are you coming to Florence for the Gioco?"

Giano didn't answer. He had his body half turned to the next table and was listening to the guy talking. An amused smile was spread over his face.

"Giano?"

"Sorry?" Giano turned.

"Are you coming to Florence for the Gioco?"

"But of course. I won't miss your fight."

"Don't paint it so black. I'm determined to win the match for our Quartiero."

"For YOUR Quartiero. It's not mine." Giano winked at him. "But nonetheless I'll cross my fingers for you." He had emptied his beer can. "I'll get us another", he said, lifted his body from the chair and stood next to the guy he had been listening to all the time. He met amber coloured eyes glistening in the dim light, giving him a friendly look. "New here?" he heard the deep, accentuated voice he had been fascinated by the first time he had heard it. "I'm Tino", the guy said now. "Actually Celestino." A chuckle escaped his throat. "Embarrassing, isn't it."

"Why?" Giano stuttered, forgetting the waiting barman, a skinny student in a T-shirt with the imprint Sardonic Grin. "The Heavenly. Probably your parent's wish."

The amber eyes looked surprised. Then he nudged Giano. "Your turn."

"Um, two beer, please." He rummaged for some coins.

"That beer’s a pisser", Tino said. "I wish they had German beer, but that's too expensive."

"German beer?"

"The best in the world. My father's German. What are you studying?"

"Medicine." Giano received the beer cans and was unsure what to do. He wanted to talk to Tino but he didn't want to ignore Alessandro.

"Medicine! Me too! But you're freshman, aren't you? I'm about to start my clinical semester. You know pathology, neurology, pharmacology. And you're in the middle of anatomy I guess?"

"The start of anatomy actually. Human compounds. I'd like to become surgeon."

Tino whistled through his teeth. "I'll go for children's doc. Perhaps go to Africa later."

Giano wondered at how easy it was to talk with another guy. And neither was his arse and cock stared at nor did he get any naughty offers.

"Your boyfriend?" Tino pointed to Alessandro who didn't seem to miss Giano, but was engaged in a conversation with the two other guys at his table.

"No, a friend."

"You're from Tuscany, right? Firenze? Nobody else speaks such a clear Italian." Tino leaned against the bar and was sipping at his beer can. He had a slight spare tyre around his waist, but that made him somehow cosy. His middle fingers were decorated with silver rings that shone softly in the light. His hair was black and short, but curled. Giano bet that if he let it grow it would match Alessandro's mane. He nodded. "Right. Firenze. And you?"

"Pisa's my hometown. I don't live on the Campus. I have my own digs."

Giano's eyes rounded. Having his own 'digs' was seldom the case for an Italian boy. The rent was simply too expensive. "I work in a music shop as often as I can to afford it", Tino explained as if he had read Giano's thoughts. "What about you?"

The beer can in Giano's hand was getting warm. "Excuse me one minute." He rushed to the table, placed the can in front of Alessandro and hurried back. He didn't see Alessandro's amused look.

"I share a room with him." He pointed his head to Alessandro's curly head. "But it's way too expensive for me. You think they need another sales man?"

"I guess so. Music and students always do well, and we have cheap offers. Shall I ask for you next time?"

"That would be great."

Celestino examined Giano for a minute with his heavenly eyes - at least Giano thought so. "So, you share a room with him", he tipped his head to the table, "and there's nothing going on?"

Giano was happy that his blush vanished in the red light. "Certainly not. Alessandro has a boyfriend." He swallowed to say that the boyfriend was his younger brother.

Tino looked as if he was saying 'That's a reason but no obstacle', but then he grinned. "Alright. And what are we going to do with the rest of the evening?"

Giano swallowed his beer wrong. Was this the offer he feared? Was it going that way? You pick up a guy and got laid?

"Well, I just wanted to see what's going on here", he said evasively, but Tino laughed. "Don't shy back. I've seen your looks." He gently touched Giano's arm. "Just for a drink, ok?"

Giano wasn't sure. "Where to?" He searched for Alessandro's eyes. Surprisingly he found them resting on him and Giano made helpless gestures. Alessandro looked questioningly.

"You need permission from your friend then?" Tino asked.

"I've got a lot to learn still", Giano said quickly. "We can meet again, alright?" He stepped back and collided with a chair. Beer sloshed over the can and Giano knew that he had made a complete fool of himself. But Tino grinned and waved with his fingers. "Ciao ciao, bello. Until next time." He set back his empty beer can and vanished.

Alessandro shook his head when Giano flopped upon his chair. "You weaselled out? My, Giano, what shall I do with you?" he asked good humouredly and patted Giano's knee. "I don't know him", Giano defended himself.

"He didn't look as if he would rape you."

"Who knows."

Alessandro thought that Luca was indeed bolder than his brother. He hadn't been afraid of a first date. But then he thought it somehow lovely. The man who once got Giano would get a jewel.

Giano sat indifferently with folded arms and was chewing at his lips. Probably he was an idiot. The first time at a gay club and he had dismissed his first chance. His first chance for what? he thought then. He didn't know what was expected of him. And he didn't want to appear as a bloody beginner. But everybody was a beginner sometime, right?

"New here?" Giano jumped at the words and looked up. The words were directed at Alessandro from a guy, standing with hands buried in his jeans pockets and a tight fitting, white shirt. Giano saw his nipples protruding and a ring he had pierced through it. Ouch.

"Right, new here", Alessandro answered. The other guy pulled up a chair and sat next to him. And after ten minutes Alessandro wasn't aware that Giano had left the club.

Half an hour later he found him laying in his bed, with his short pyjamas on, studying his book of medicine. "You didn't say you were leaving. Don't do that again. I searched for you at the toilets and almost got raped." Alessandro chided him. But his eyes betrayed his words. They were laughing.

"I bet you were. Look at you", Giano shot back. "Had fun?"

"Fun with whom? You were gone."

"Fun with that guy."

"Sure. A quickie in the toilet, as I said", Alessandro said dryly.

"A wank, a blowjob or a fuck?"

Alessandro dropped his shirt as he was undressing and stared surprised at Giano. "Do I hear jealousy?"

"No, anger. I thought you're with my brother."

Alessandro kicked off his trainers, pulled down his jeans and socks and his underwear too. Giano quickly looked away. "None of that", he said calm. "In case you didn't know: I really like Luca. And despite the saying 'what he doesn't know doesn't bother him', I don't want to give myself a bad conscience."

"You're a saint all of a sudden", Giano gave back ironically.

"Then think what you want." Alessandro showed him his naked butt and strutted through the bathroom door. Giano had to grin. What a guy. He couldn't make him out. He wondered why Luca got on so well with him, and what Alessandro saw in his little brother. Sure, Luca was a sunshine, but he was wayward too. And he himself had dozens of experiences ahead. How was it to sleep with a man for instance. Giano sighed, closed his book and wiped his face. If you go on like this, you'll be a virgin for all times. Then thinking about Celestino's sparkling, amber eyes, he suppressed the urge to wank himself off. Not a good idea with Alessandro being around.

* * * * *

 

"Dearest Luca,

How are you getting along with your life? I'm learning a lot, though it's tough At the start, but I do enjoy it. I love the freedom here, without seeing the brothers. And Alessandro is a great help to me, you know. I have a job in order to pay him the money for the room. A friend has gotten me the job in a music shop. I work there in my spare time that isn't occupied with seminars and lessons and I like it a great deal. I know I could have said all this on the phone, but I'm writing this letter to let you know something I haven't told you before now. It was Alessandro who forced me to write this.

The friend I'm talking about I met in the community club of the university. It's a club for gays and lesbians. Since Alessandro wanted me to do something for my sex life he dragged me with him. You must be asking yourself why it had to be a gay club then. Well, the reason is obvious. I'm gay too. I wonder if you guessed it or not. If not, I must be a good actor 😉 I'm not sure why I had hide it from you, especially since you told me about yourself. I'm coward I guess. I don't know what to do. I wish you could be here to tell me what I'm supposed to do. And yet I am your older brother and should be the one you can lean on... but now I need your help. I'm coming home for the weekend, along with Sandro.

I hope you aren't mad at me.

All love, Giano"

Luca lay dumbfounded upon his bed. 'Holy cow' was the only thing he could think. Giano deserved an Oscar for his performance. Luca hadn't dreamt that his brother could share the same sexual inclination. Although he had never gone out with girls - Luca hadn't simply thought of it. Suddenly Giano appeared in a new light. If he had had his coming out earlier then everything would had been easier - for both of them. They would have been a protection and a support for each other.

A stab of regret filled Luca's guts. But it was as it was; now he knew and in his mind he thanked Sandro for his help. Once he was over the shock he could go on.

He took the next letter laying on the blanket and opened it.

"Gioia,

I'm thinking of you all the time. This weekend I'm coming home, though I hope you don't mind when I have to carry on with my running programme. You want me fit enough to play against your brothers, don't you? Only two weeks and the big event starts. I'm looking forward to it.

How are you doing? Do you miss me? Yesterday you told me on the phone that your friend Tris is depressed, but he doesn't want to tell you why. I told you that I know. He don't dare to admit that he's gay. He's afraid albeit he knows that you are too. He does know, doesn't he? I guess it's the fear of the unknown. He must have slept with his girlfriend, but now you are there and he's confused looking at you and wanting you. To touch you and to get touched by you. But perhaps he thinks that homosexuality is infectious and you are the big tempter who makes him think that way. Add society, upbringing and the perception the common hetero has of anal intercourse, and you have the answer.

Which leads me to your brother. I know he has written to you about his big secret. Now here's another; He has made a big conquest and is afraid to give in. Has he told you? I bet he hasn't. The guy with the heavenly name Celestino is completely mad about Giano! He meets him every day, at the mensa, in the student's cafe, even at the community club, but Giano always refuses to go out with him. Can't you do something about it? I'm at my wits end. Celestino is studying medicine too but two semesters ahead. Giano learns a lot from him, but he doesn't want to learn about sex. So, what are we supposed to do with him? Celestino is a charming man and I know Giano is in good hands with him. Although.... perhaps I should have tried him out, before I allow him to lay his hands on your brother, eh? Just kidding.

Anyway, talk to you on the phone soon...

Ciao, amore, mille baci

Alessandro"

Luca grinned. Good old Sandro. Luca's trust in Alessandro was so great that he didn't think for a minute that he would try out the guy before he handed him over to his brother... which he would have doubtlessly have done if there hadn't been a Luca.

But what was the problem with that guy Giano didn't want to go with? Having sex? Which lead to the next question; Had Giano ever had sex?

Then he thought about Tristano and the brief draft of Tris' feelings. Probably Sandro was right. When you spend your whole life as a heterosexual, having a girlfriend, sleeping with her - and probably enjoying it - it must feel like a tornado when you suddenly realize that you are attracted by a man. Especially when you can't define this feeling and why you should feel so. Was Tris hating him - Luca - for making him feel that way? For tumbling him into that whirlwind of emotions? Certainly Luca did nothing to force it. And what did a heterosexual imagine about anal intercourse?? It certainly didn't hurt much more than to have diarrhoea on the toilet... Luca gave a snort with laughter. Madonna. He felt his member raising like it so often did when he thought about his boyfriend. Unfortunately he couldn't use the hot tub as much as he wanted and needed to find release. There was often just a cold shower for him to calm down his excitement. The imagination of a naked Alessandro luxuriously showering his body with a hot stream of water made him very hot in his pants.

He took his mobile phone and dialled Sandro's number. A panting Alessandro answered him. "What're you doing? Jerking off alone?" Luca teased him.

"No, you shit, I'm running! Third time around the green at the Piazza dei Miracoli!" The panting eased somewhat and Luca guessed that Sandro had stopped his running to speak with him. "Franco's with me. He's asking me all the time about the Gioco. He's keen on joining me. I mean, he's keen to come to Firenze to watch it. What do you think? Care to meet him again? We all can sleep at my home."

Luca's head swirled with Sandro's enthusiasm. "Sure. That's fine with me." He hesitated. "And Giano? Will he bring his friend?"

"Celestino? Ah, I see you got the letters. What has he written about his boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend? He finally made it?

"No, not what you think. He's still the old virgin you used to know."

"Better that he is!" Luca laughed. "I mean better that than you tried him out! Or taught him something."

"I'd never do that", Alessandro answered laughing. "Although Giano is a great treat, I can tell you. Especially since I caught him wanking under the shower."

"No, shit! And you didn't join him?"

"He looks so much like you, gioia", Alessandro whispered. "Listen, Franco is miles away and I have to catch him. Glad you take it so well. Talk to you tomorrow, alright? Kisses..."

-- End of Primavera --