Angel's Trumpets - 1. Chapter 1

Galleria Borghese

With glistening eyes Principe Gianluca Borghese-Caffarelli pulled apart the paper with the logo of the bookshop where he was a regular customer. In front of his eyes lay the biggest treasure he had ever called his own - and the most expensive. Tenderly, with trembling fingers, he caressed the old leather binding of a thick book, with the initials "HP" cut in red and gold. "Hypnerotomachia Poliphili" he thought. Finally.

He bent over it, absorbed the tangy smell and sighed deeply. For Gianluca it was the most wonderful smell of the entire world.

In the darkened room, where just a standard lamp behind a comfortable leather armchair threw its soft light, and the room was filled with the scent of old glue and the dry dust of yellowed books, his gaze fell upon the picture of his late mother, which was placed upon one of the many bookshelves, reaching to the ceiling. Quickly he looked away; he didn't want to be reminded of his childhood.

He released his hands unwillingly from the book, raked his fingers through the dark, thinning hair and stepped to the aquarium, which filled the narrow end of his living room. He had to calm down himself... he wanted to put off the moment... the moment when he would open this book, to immerse in its content until the next morning.

Gianluca knocked softly at the pane and groped for a pinch of fish-food.

Ever since he was twenty he had yearned for this book, a romanzo d'amore, full of nymphs, satyrs, gods and demigods; a lover's unrequited love, his quest to win the heart of his hero, triumph, the illusion dashed.

Thirty years of searching - while he was studying ancient history in Florence and Bologna. During his time as student teacher at the Catholic university he had come in touch for the first time with these strange documents of an Italian monk. The search for this remarkable subject of his desire had consumed everything, his time as prelate in Florence, the appointment as bishop and even as cardinal of the parish of Florence at the Holy See. He hadn't had time to cultivate relationships except to the curia.

He looked up and turned his eyes to look outside the window. It was a pretty baroque garden, with box trees formed into a labyrinth. Some maginificently huge flowers grew in the middle of it. Slowly he reached for his cup of greenish tea and took a gulp. It tasted both sweet and bitter at the same time and left a numbness on his tongue.

Not even the breathtaking tempo of Rome could cool his passion for old, forgotten books. He knew it was a failure to let his heart cling to earthly things, but looking at his family pedigree they all had been mad for art in any case.

Gianluca stared again into the illuminated water of the aquarium, in whose light, green algae swayed like silken bands in the slight movement the oxygen apparatus caused. A shubunkin nibbled with pursed lips at the pane close to Gianluca's small, blue-grey, rather short-sighted eyes.

Once more he sighed deeply as he stepped again to his heavy oak wood desktop and caressed the book's leather binding with his eyes. It had arrived this morning via airmail from Venice.

His heart was beating wildly in his throat. He stretched out his pale, slender hands and opened the first page.

The action started with a dream. Eagerly Gianluca's eyes darted over the rustling paper, filled with old letters of a strange type and form.

Poliphilo had spent a restless night because his lover

Polio has shunned him. At the break of day, he finally

falls into a deep slumber and his struggle for love in a

dream begins.

Gianluca watched the woodcuts of the young man lying in his old- fashioned bed, sleeping with strained face.

He awakes in a wild forest where he has to fight a dragon but escapes. He wears nothing and his genitals are very clearly defined.

Cardinal Gianluca felt the effect of the tea he was drinking sensed a stirring between his legs. What would he give if the search of Poliphilo for his lover was for him... Ah! Young men... Rome was full of them... Feverishly he thumbed the pages, saw more coloured woodcuts of the reclining body of a sleeping youth, above it leers a naked satyr with a watchful eye and an erect penis.

The stirring in Gianluca's genitals increased to a pleasant hardness. His hand moved there and started rubbing, he evoked in his mind the sheer pleasure of a coital ecstasy he had experienced at Luigi's Bar, well hidden in the dark room, being sandwiched between two guys whose faces he never saw. He came with a loud gasp, his head bent back, his eyes closed tightly. He couldn't stand it... he would have to make another visit to Luigi's again. Soon.

Gianicolo

Leandro dropped his rucksack and the heavy bag upon the stone landing while he let out a heartfelt sigh. Then he squinted his eyes because the early sunlight dazzled him. The Piazzale Garibaldi high above Rome at the Gianicolo-Hill was almost deserted, except for one man with honey coloured hair leaning against the landing a few meters afar.

Rome bathed in light. By and by he recognized the buildings: the mighty cupola of San Carlo that was the biggest here on this side - gray with brilliant patterns where it was met by the sunbeams, the low, almost flat looking dome of the Pantheon amidst the sea of houses.

Leandro stopped his watching and rummaged in his rucksack for the copy of Emile Zola's "Rome". He thumbed the sides and found the bookmark between the pages. Like Zola's protagonist, Abbe Pierre, he followed the view from this outlook point and compared it with the presence of today.

"Pierre stood in his tight black soutane at the balustrade, had his bare, fever hot hands nervously pressed together and absorbed everything with one look and with his soul too. Rome. Rome! The town of the Caesar's, the town of popes, the Eternal City, that conquered the whole world twice... A fine bluish mist, barely visible and tender like a veil, hovered over the roofs of the deeper quarters, while the broad Campagna and the far mountains were lost in a rosy tone..." ¹⁾

That was so true Leandro thought and felt. From high above the town looked like a sleeping colossus that held all secrets of time. Sacred ground, soaked with blood of centuries. What if the stones could speak? Leandro got lost in his reveries until he blinked and remembered the book he still held open.

"With childish joy he recognized them all, because he had studied them since long ago on maps and photos. Down there, on the foot of the Gianicolo, stretched Trastevere with its maze of old, reddish houses, whose sun burnt roofs hid the run of the Tiber. He was surprised that the town seen from the high terrace seemed to be flat, as if leveled out by this bird's-eye view; the famous seven hills were hardly to be seen in the wide sea of house fronts."

Leandro looked up once more. Zola was right. Like the author a hundred years before he let his view roam over the town. He saw the slim towers of Santa Maria Maggiore where snow had fallen amid the August-heat 1500 years ago; the Quirinal, those long facade resembling a hospital or a barracks. Nothing seemed to have changed. Rome seemed to be as stable and unshakable - the stability he needed in his life now and some adventures his heart was yearning for.

Leandro turned his head to watch the foreign man who shared this place with him from the corner of his eyes, saw him raising a glass to awakening Rome. He drank and threw the empty glass behind him where it shattered upon the ground. Leandro heard a high pitched giggle, then the man turned to face him. He felt himself checked out from head to feet and Leandro feared he would draw nearer, which he did indeed. Leandro gripped his baggage and flexed all of his muscles. The first thing he noticed was the emanating aroma of a drunken night: gin and martinis, and striking grey eyes. The man lifted his hand and Leandro ducked away, but the man's caress was soft. "Bello," he whispered. "Want to come with me?"

Leandro detected a British accent and stood petrified, watching the older man break out in a giggle again.

"No, you can't. There's Andrea waiting for me." He stretched out his hand, pointing over the area of houses and churches, bathing in the early morning light. "There, at the far end of the town... there he is."

Leandro followed his hand and saw the twin towers of the Villa Medici in the distance. He knew that the Spanish Steps were not far away from this place. When he turned again, the man was gone. He just saw his back, slipping into the driver's seat of this car.

Leandro curled up his nose and shook his head. Certainly there were odd people in Rome, uncle Emilio had warned him. He felt a certain stab of forlornness and homesickness. His hometown, Volterra, was a cosy place, small and protected. But since Sebastian had visited him two months ago he felt the urge to come out of this town to face the world - Rome. Oddly, he had never been there before. He had wasted two years of waiting for the wrong man. Leandro conjured a face with cornflower- blue eyes and short black hair; the companion of his childhood, his adolescence and sometimes of his nights - when their parents thought they were just best ragazzi and amici.

Leandro's lips curled up to a smile. Vincenzo was a wild boy - much his own opposite but they say that opposites attract. Well, perhaps this was a silly saying. In the end equal and equal suited best.

Leandro had listened to his promises until the earth had shaken under his feet and everything was over.

His gaze followed the curved street, vanishing between the trees, leading down and up again to the quarter of Trastevere where Sebastian had his house. Not that he longed for Sebastian... nor was in love at all. Leandro smiled wistfully. Well, a little bit. The man not falling in love with the sandy haired Sebastian was still to be born. Surely Sebastian wasn't a substitute for Vincenzo but he was a free man of his own will, and each man living in a large city had the aura of independence. Leandro had dreamt that he would take him with him one day. But. . . he knew that Sebastian had broken with Andrea, his former lover and had replaced him with a German guy he wanted to reconcile. He was sure he did already.

The train of thought stopped. Andrea? Hadn't the odd man just told him that Andrea was waiting for him at the end of the town, pointing to Villa Medici? Well, no doubt hundreds of Andrea's certainly lived in Rome.

Leandro knew also that near this Villa was the place of the Borghese- Park and amid it the Villa Giulia, an ensemble of striking museums, above all a very good one for Etruscan Arts. His uncle had used his connections to fill the vacant place with his nephew.

Leandro's greenish-brown eyes were fixed upon the dark green patch of pines and cypresses in the distance. Sebastian didn't know that he was here... that would be a surprise.

Leandro felt the book between his hands, opened it again and followed the written words:

"Outside the town, over the park trees of the Villa Corsini, emerged the dome of the Peter's church. It seemed to rest upon the tree tops, and its gentle blue melted with the the never ending blue of the sky. The stone lantern that crowned the dome, seemed to hang white and shining in the air. . . In a boundless space the Roman Campagna stretched, bleak and majestic like a death-desert, grey-green like a rigid ocean; finally he recognized the low, round tower of the Cecilia Metella's grave, behind it a thin whitish line that was Via Appia. Debris of aqueducts lay across the short grass that sprouted in the dust of collapsed worlds."

Leandro jumped, startled at the horn of an orange bus, turning around the monument for Garibaldi. He threw the book into his rucksack, took his baggage and hopped in. It would bring him down to the Forum Romanum, Sebastian's working place.

Forum Romanum

Leandro had paid for the entrance to the excavations because he didn't want to refer to his friendship with the leader. This gave him time to walk slowly through the remains of marble pillars, blocks of stones.

Chewing at his tramezzino he sat upon the broken staircase of a temple and watched a small green-golden lizard warming its belly. Perhaps Sebastian wasn't even there and the museum where he worked still closed. For now he enjoyed the peace of this place; Rome's mad traffic seemed miles away and he was the only visitor so far.

"All alone here?" A male voice sounded beside him. "It's dangerous for a pretty boy like you..." He squatted down and again Leandro smelled gin and martinis. "...especially near those cruising points." He nodded in the direction of Capitol Hill towering over the valley of the Forum. "I know it well, don't you?"

Leandro rose to his full height, actually he was of average height but he tried to look more determined than he actually felt.

"What do you want from me?" he asked nervously, hoping the other man wouldn't notice. He was all alone here and nobody was there to help him.

"Why do you follow me?"

"Did I follow you? Perhaps we are just going the same way." His voice was pleasant and Leandro relaxed a bit. Nonetheless he took his baggage again and started walking towards the Forum-Museum, just in case.

"The museum is closed still." The man had followed him and stood now in his way. "Are you looking for a room?" The striking grey eyes studied him once more, resting a bit too long at certain parts of his body.

"No." He said sharply. "Why don't you go back to your ... Andrea?" he threw over his shoulder as he passed by. Behind the Titus-Arch he saw some people with equipment, tools and dressed in working clothes. He quickened his steps, approaching the group until he detected a head with sandy coloured hair. His heart skipped a beat when the head turned and their eyes met. The other pair widened in surprise.

"Leandro?" Sebastian said. He was clothed in grey pants suit with heavy boots and held a spatula in his hand. Leandro could see he didn't know whether to laugh or not and decided then for the first. Then Sebastian's eyes fell on the British man behind him. Their eyes locked briefly before the strange man turned and walked away.

"Do you know him?"

Leandro shook his head. "That's an odd chap, I can tell you. I met him earlier this morning at the Gianicolo and he was stalking me."

"Hmm." Sebastian shrugged finally and started to question him after he had waved to his colleagues, indicating to go on. "Something happened to your family?"

"No, big surprise Sebastiano. I'll be working at Villa Giulia from now on." Leandro beamed, but Sebastian looked doubtful. "Villa Giulia? But how?"

"Uncle Emilio provided me the job. Said it's time to spread my wings." He didn't tell him that he had gone on at his uncle for a job outside Volterra. He wanted to be miles away from Vincenzo and his suggestion. Perhaps he just needed time to think it over.

"So?" Sebastian wasn't sure about the intentions of his old friend. He hoped he didn't want to link him up with his lonesome nephew. But Leandro had always been a big challenge for him, a challenge not to give in to the attraction he felt. He forced himself to smile. "Great, Leandro. That's ...great... do you know where to stay?"

"Not yet. I thought you could help me out?" Leandro felt his heart sink, something wasn't ok with Sebastian, he could sense it. Probably he didn't want to have him around, and the excitement to be here in Rome, near Sebastian diminished with every second. Timidly he said, "Congratulations on your important discovery."

"Thanks," Sebastian's thoughts were racing. Could he bring Leandro home? He studied the gentle face, the brown hair with golden tints and the eyes - still deep like a bog - and felt not exactly comfortable. Kay would be suspicious because Sebastian never had mentioned Leandro at all while on his last trip to Volterra. Damn that.

"Want to come up to the Palatine?" He asked him instead of an answer. "Go ahead, I'll follow, just a phone call."

Staring at Leandro's back vanishing in the shadows on the way leading to the Palatine Hill, he pulled out his cell phone - a present from Kay - and dialled his number.

Via Condotti

Kay looked and felt good in his light blue jeans and matching jacket. He had decided to dress in the 'uniform' of the Roman male youth; jeans and white T-shirt and his head turned round like a beacon's light, following the streets. Sebastian always called it 'fare bella figura': sort of walking on a catwalk, to see and to be seen.

Rome was hot on this late July day. Actually too hot for jeans but no Roman would have the idea to dress in shorts and beach sandals like the tourists parade through the town and earning disapproving looks. Meanwhile Kay felt almost like a Roman citizen and he had even started to learn Italian.

Along the Via Condotti he examined the displays of Versace (mostly women's wear) and Gucci (gosh, the shoes cost a small fortune, even if he deducted a lot of the noughts), went on to Prada and Biagotti but wasn't interested. The shop windows didn't look appealing at all; Kay assumed it was too much of a noble understatement. At least they could develop a little more fantasy. He turned into the parallel street, looking for the shop of Cerruti. Sebastian belonged to the best customer group there.

Again, the shop windows were small - but then it was a tribute to the protection of historic buildings in Rome, so Sebastian had explained - clear arrangements and almost empty. The price tags were missing.

A melodious bell announced his entrance and instantly a young woman was at his side, hiding her face under a ton of make up; the long blond hair glued to her head as it was all the fashion now. Politely he asked for the menswear and she accompanied him, showing him this and that but without much enthusiasm - just cultivated boredom. Kay felt annoyed by her presence and started to tug here and there at the clothes lying upon shelves, until he discovered a white, silken suit with vertical blue stripes - all the rage although it had similarity to a pair of pyjamas. Kay loved it instantly, it would be good to wear at Sebastian's imminent birthday.

In the small breast pocket was tucked a checked cloth. Kay furrowed his brows, looking around, almost bumping into the young woman standing close behind him.

"You like it?" she asked.

"Well..." Kay searched for something special and went over to pick out a small cloth with bright red dots. He replaced the checked one with the dotted one and looked satisfied.

"Amore, do me the favour, I'll take this over."

Startled, Kay turned and saw a man in his mid forties with black dyed hair, eyebrows and lashes, and a neatly trimmed beard a la George Michael. He was dressed in a mid calved white jacket and red flares. His voice though deep was a little artificial and his movements more than camp. He flashed Kay a broad smile. What can I do for you, signore?"

Kay was dazzled and didn't know what to say.

"You're interested in this suit? Eccellente." He bent over as Kay smelled his expensive perfume. "By the way, the changed cloth is brilliant." He stretched out his hand. "My name's Tasso."

"Kay."

Tasso's grip was surprisingly firm. "Don't say THE Kay!"

"Scusi?"

"Sebastiano von Scheffel's Kay?" He lightly touched Kay's arm.

"Oh yes. How do you know?"

"Well," Tasso put his forefinger under his eye and pulled down the skin. "Tasso knows everything." He winked good-humouredly and Kay smiled back.

"He told me you're looking for a job of some kind. Right?"

"Right. You know, just for a few hours a day. Is that possible?"

"Sicuramente."

Tasso's eyes followed Kay's slender body, tightly embraced by the denim fabric. "Ever walked on a catwalk?"

"Huh? Catwalk?"

"Well, you have a natural talent. You walk like a cat." Tasso wriggled his ass and skipped some sidesteps.

"You'd look good with a feather boa." Kay teased him and Tasso rolled his eyes. "You haven't seen me on stage, carino." He made a starlet pose, one arm high above his head, the other coquettishly propped on his hip.

"Miss Soffocante!"

Kay snorted. "Miss what?"

Tasso dropped his arm. "Soffocante - sizzling, sultry. I guess every man gets a sultry feeling when seeing me on stage at Luigi's Bar, singing and dancing."

"Well...." Kay didn't want to tell him that he wasn't too fond of those drag queens, but Tasso was a funny character. "So what do you think. I always need good models."

"For what? Underwear?"

"If you like..." Tasso's eyes flashed.

"Do you organize them yourself?" Kay asked. "I mean, do you have a permission from Nino Cerruti? Or his son?"

"Si, but that's no problem, Nino knows that three quarters of his customers are gay. Let me know your decision when we'll meet at Sebastiano's birthday."

Kay's cell phone rang. He excused himself and searched for a private corner while Tasso rushed to serve customers.

"Pronto?" he asked and heard Sebastian's little laugh. "Ah, the perfect Italian gentleman already. Listen, sweetie, we'll have a guest for tonight, perhaps for several days. Where are you right now?"

"Cerruti-shop. What guest?"

"Making friends with Tasso?"

"Yes, Lady Soffocante. What guest?"

"Um, it's a friend from Volterra. He's got a job here now at Villa Giulia and hasn't found a hotel or flat yet. Could you go home and meet him there?"

"Sure. What does he look like?"

"You'll see, sweetie. Show him the room where Nicki used to sleep."

"Will do. Is it a good friend?"

"Well, yes. At least an old one. I'll try to come home earlier. Um, did you get the job?"

"Yes, but we haven't talked about the details. He wants me to be a model for his underwear collection."

"What? Watch yourself, honey. Tasso is a real wildcat."

"I have the feeling... bye, until later."

"I must go Tasso," he shouted to the man. "Would you be so kind to book this suit for me, will come back tomorrow. Grazie."

Tasso blew him a kiss. "Ciao, ciao, carino."

Gianicolo

Kay walked over to his Vespa he had parked at the Spanish Steps and made his way across the town which wasn't that filled with people and traffic because summer holidays and heat had scared away the citizens and made room for all the tourist's busses and groups. He took it slowly and pondered about Tasso. If he once belonged to Sebastian's lovers? He could quite imagine Tasso's effusive behaviour matched somehow Sebastian's own.

Already from a distance he could see a figure, sitting on the threshold, leaning his back against the door. Kay stopped his motorbike while the guest rose and smiled. Kay was more than surprised to find a young man about his age and a sudden feeling of suspicion filled his guts. Nevertheless he smiled back. "Hi, I'm Kay, Sebastian called me to pick you up."

"Leandro," Leandro said very low.

"What a nice name," it slipped out of Kay's mouth. He absorbed the young man's features all at once, the slender body, the olive skin, the brown-golden hair... he just looked a bit rumpled and tired, perhaps he wore his oldest clothes too. Kay struggled with the keys. "Come in. Had a long journey?"

"Si. I started yesterday night and couldn't sleep in the train." Leandro stepped very haltingly into the hall and stood there forlorn. Kay felt awkward. "Shall I show you your room? You can have a bath or shower if you want. Hungry?"

"A bit. But I'd like to have a shower first."

Kay led the way upstairs to the room Nick had occupied some months ago when he had his quarrel with Marcus. Kay smiled. He missed Nicki. He missed his brother Simon and his lover Ben. Hell, he missed everyone of them and he was so pleased that all of them had agreed to come to Rome and celebrate Sebastian's and Nicholas' birthday together as well.

Of course Daniel, Sebastian's cousin would come down from his castle in South-Tyrol.

Leandro stared into Kay's absent smiling face. Now, this was Sebastian's lover, the guy he preferred to himself and made him flee back to Rome to reconcile with him. Well, Leandro could understand. He nudged his arm and Kay shook off his reverie. "Sorry, was thinking. The bed is fresh made and here are the towels. The bathroom is there. Help yourself and come down when you're finished. I'll try to manage to get us something to eat." He grinned, revealing the little gap between his front teeth.

"Don't bother with it. I can cook later." Leandro said quickly. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Kay snorted. "I don't think I could survive here if I wouldn't like it. But I can't take this offer, let's say, we'll try it together."

"When will Sebastian come home?"

"He said earlier than usual." Kay licked red tomato sauce from his lips. He had an idea. "Would you like to accompany me to town? I have some clothes to buy and perhaps you need something too?"

Leandro didn't answer instantly. "We could meet Sebastian at the Spanish Steps. You told me your new working place is nearby."

"D'accordo."

Kay watched him eating. Leandro seemed to be a good cook. He wondered if Sebastian had been his teacher. "How long have you known Sebastian?" Kay asked cautiously. "Did he teach you your good German?"

"Yes. He made an apprenticeship some years ago and stayed with us for about a year. Later he came back with ... Andrea."

And what happened during this year? Kay asked himself. And what makes you think Leandro is gay?

Kay finished his plate. "Eccellente. I'm not that good at cooking. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Leandro was flabbergasted at the blunt question, and a light blush coloured his cheeks.

"I'm sure you know I'm gay, don't you?"

Now it was Kay's turn to blush and Leandro smiled. It enchanted his whole stern face. "You must think I came to Rome because I want to be Sebastian's lover, don't you?" He raised his eyebrows. "It's not the reason. There was a time when I thought I was in love with him, but then he told me about you and..."

Kay stared at him. "And?"

"I don't want to interfere. I needed to be far away from Volterra. I've never seen anything else and here I have at least one friend."

Kay now smiled at him. "Two," he said. "Do you have a boyfriend back in Volterra?"

Leandro shook his head. "I had, several years ago in school, but it was hard for us in this small town. He married." Leandro's face was inscrutable again. He still remembered clearly Vincenzo's face when he told him short and curt the news. He made it look casual but Leandro could see the pain in his eyes. It was this moment when he swore to himself not to obey the expectations of society - and of his parents - who wanted grandchildren and a daughter in law. Leandro's parents couldn't live with their son's sexual inclination. Luckily Emilio, a brother of his father and childless, took him to his house. Leandro had learnt everything about archaeology from his uncle and his colleagues and was better than some of them.

But then Vincenzo returned. He didn't want their friendship to be over. Neither the friendship nor their shared nights. What Leandro thought to be a joke was bloody serious for Vincenzo. What would stop Vincenzo from thinking Leandro could give him that what his wife couldn't give him? The blue eyes had been that close to his own that they filled the whole world and Leandro's whole being too. Pretender, hypocrite, coward it roared within him but none of these words had come out of his mouth. Leandro still felt the urge to shout them into Vincenzo's face. Surely his parents couldn't cope with the thought of having a gay son - all the worse in this macho country, Italy, where each faggot was a limp-wristed queen, good enough to sit by the girls and chat over crochet work and nail-painting.

Leandro lifted his chin. He was a real man - whatever that meant in consequence - and he needed a real man at his side.

"It was his loss," he heard Kay saying compassionately. "You'll have a lot of fun in Rome then. The town itself is too morbid to even take note of it. Let's start with Lady Soffocante."

To Leandro's questioning eyes he said, "You'll see."

Spanish Steps

From a distance they could hear the talking of people, singing and chanting like a waterfall. They followed a narrow street and then Leandro stood frozen on the ground with a feeling of deja vu. This he knew from movies and television but he had never seen the Fontana di Trevi in its nightly glory, besieged by young folk, singing to a guitar, taking photos, throwing some coins over their shoulders into the broad water basin. The water cascades played their own music to it. The fountain was illuminated by lots of spot lights, but it kept the special, intimate atmosphere of a very Italian place. "You know, Petrarca was hit by a horse when he arrived here and was hurt badly, Casanova would have been sexually molested by a policeman, John Keats came here to cure his tuberculosis and died here, his friend Shelley fled from the shadows of his marriage..." he heard Sebastian's voice at his back. He didn't care about the reasons they had all come here. He just knew that he loved it. And the heaps of people didn't bother him in the least. After the visit by Tasso, 'Lady Sofffocante', as Kay called him, they had made an appointment at the Fontana di Trevi later that evening to meet Sebastian there.

"Ah, said Sebastian, "the money savers were here this morning. They're gathering from time to time all the coins and transport them in heavy bags, protected by the police."

"Really?" Kay asked. "It is that much money?"

Sebastian nodded. "Want to throw a coin, Leandro? You will come back when you do this."

But Leandro wasn't up squeezing himself through all the young people. Sebastian just smiled. "It's superstition anyway. Once you're leaving you will come back. And for now.... it's your hometown now."

Leandro said nothing; he felt Kay's hand briefly clutching his fingers. Will I live here for good now? he thought. But then he shook off this feeling and followed the pair up the steep way leading to the Esquilin and the building for the president of Italy. "It's not a long way to the Spanish Steps," he heard Sebastian say.

As usual he looked at the place of Andrea's fruit stand but behind the small counter was another lad. He identified him as Andrea's little brother. He asked them to wait for a minute and went straight to the stand. Davide recognized him instantly but made an unhappy face.

"Andrea isn't here, Sebastiano. Since he has a heap of money he doesn't care for his family."

"So?" Sebastian frowned. He had thought Andrea would give some of it to his parents to improve the shop. Andrea and his friend and nowadays lover had been involved in a crime that concerned his cousin Daniel from South-Tyrol. Odd coincidences had made it happen that he and Kay had re-discovered Daniel's stolen altar in Prague and at the same time some very interesting discoveries concerning the life and after-life of one of the last of the Knights Templar.

"And why are you standing here in the middle of the night?" Sebastian asked him.

Davide shrugged.

"You know the Andrea's place? He lives with his old friend Roberto, I've heard? I was surprised that they finally made it. I always considered Roberto as just an old friend." Sebastian asked.

"Si. Roberto shows up from time to time, complaining about the British man. Last week he was really in despair because the man was threatening Andrea and Roberto."

"Threatening? With what?" Sebastian knew that Andrea had spent some nights with George Rosenstock, an Englishman, also involved in the robbery of Daniel's altar, but after Andrea got money from Marcus for a deal he made, Sebastian thought Andrea had left that strange Britisher.

A tourist ordered some oranges and Davide served him before he answered. "Don't know with what." A sly grin scurried over Davide's face. "He's madly in love with Andrea. Still."

"Hmm." Sebastian jumped when somebody touched his shoulder. It was Roberto. "Talk about somebody and he will show up," Sebastian said. "Where's Andrea?"

Roberto's face flashed hatefully. "I'll tell you. At George's where else? Got double the amount from him for the altar. You know the story already."

Sebastian was flabbergasted. "You say Andrea was getting money from George? Marcus already paid him."

"Well, he didn't say that the altar is there where it belongs, at your cousin's."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and waved to Kay to stay there. They already had taken a seat on the steps of the staircase watching the nightly scene. Sebastian hated those tourist points but what could he do for this.

"You both broke up?" he asked Roberto.

Roberto's surprisingly innocent blue eyes fluttered. "Well," he said low. "Andrea is a real stronzo." He pulled a face. "Me too, you know. I'm sorry about all this. Andrea dragged me into all this shit."

"Come on, don't play the innocent child. I'll bet you enjoyed it. You were nasty enough to get involved in those robberies, right?"

Roberto sniffed a bit and shuffled with his shoes.

"But it was nice to give back Victor's letters. You wouldn't have if they would bring money, I suppose?"

Roberto didn't answer. Sebastian bought a bag of apples, leaving much more money than the price was and put his arm around his shoulder. He said a few words to Davide that he should come visit his parents again and went over to the waiting boys. "Are you sure that Andrea is voluntarily with George?" he insisted and Roberto nodded. "He said, there's a lot more money to get than I could imagine and he could even stand the nights with him."

"A prostitute's always a prostitute." Sebastian muttered. Although he couldn't match Andrea he knew the Andrea of Roberto's tales. Something must have happened to him. Did all the money corrupt him indeed? He had been in sort of a relationship with the young Italian before Andrea decided to go for a British tourist and left him. Well, actually he didn't blame him for this because Sebastian was looking as well. Oddly enough it turned out that Marcus, Sebastian's best friend back in Berlin, had had an encounter himself with that British man in London. Long story, he thought to himself. Two months ago they had found out that Andrea had stolen the old altar from his cousin's castle, because George had given in to one of his antics. He had sold it to a Prague church where Sebastian and Kay had been able to locate and bring it back. Marcus had helped Andrea telling the truth with paying money, but apparently this money wasn't enough for Andrea.

"Let me hear this again, Roberto," he said while they were walking back to the waiting men. "Andrea left you again for George? Because he thinks he will get more money from him for his .... service? He shook his head. "To me he always seemed to be very jealous."

"But he always chose his lovers for their amount of money. He hates to be poor."

"Except you. Davide said George has threatened you both?"

Roberto lifted his brows. "Well, not threatening. Just with his presence. He showed up wherever we went, saying nothing, just staring. I don't know how he managed to speak to Andrea to persuade him to come back to him. I think George is a bad loser, and he can't live by himself."

Sebastian nodded. "What will you do now, Roberto? Do you have money left?"

"Surely I have. Andrea gives me enough every week so I can hold the flat until he has enough for both of us to leave Rome."

"Leave Rome?"

"George has a villa in South-Tyrol. He bought it while we were there...me spying out Daniel's altar. Andrea went to get it - as a price for this service, as you said."

This was new to Sebastian but he said nothing. It was none of his business but he felt a bit of pity for Roberto. Nonetheless he said "I would be careful with this villa; if Andrea leaves George one day this will be the first place where he will search for you. Think about my words."

He looked urgently at the young man who shrugged now. "I must go, Pa needs me in his ristorante. Ciao." He went away but then turned. "Umm, will you send my greetings to Daniel when you speak to him?"

"Sure I will. Oh, Roberto, feel invited this Saturday, you know my place."

Roberto was embarrassed. "It is your birthday, yes? Will Daniel be there?" Seeing Sebastian nodding he said, "No, I can't, scusi, Sebastiano. But I will ring." He turned once more and left quickly.

Leandro felt comfortable with Kay. Analysing his feelings he found that he couldn't be jealous of their relationship. Somehow Kay seemed the right man for Sebastian and vice versa. He could feel their mutual affection as probably just an outside observer could do.

Thinking over his weak tries to conquer Sebastian back in Volterra where he had visited the museum he and his uncle were working at, he smiled to himself. It wasn't hard to conquer Sebastian but very difficult to hold him. Leandro asked himself what was Kay's secret. Had he promised him never-ending sex?

He threw a glance to Kay, sitting next to him, watching the people around him. Leandro heard a Babylonian confusion of the tongues he had never heard of. They sang, chanted and chat and suddenly Leandro felt like being at home. Perhaps this was a new chance. And the start of a new life.