The Lizard - 3. Part 3: Autumno (Autumn)

I'm still holding his hand. Looking into Sandro's face was like coming home. But I wasn't sure if there would be a new start for the two of us. Too much has happened. A wise man once said "We don't realize the time when we are happy. We only realize the time when we have been happy".

I feel his hand slipping from mine as he searches in his jacket trouser. His palm opens and I see the lizard. Blue lapis lazuli with green, serpentine eyes. My gift to him.

I feel in my pocket and conjure up the golden-enamel cross. His face radiates. "You still carry it?"

"Every day. In my pocket."

"But not around your neck?"

I want to tell him that I would if I could be sure, but I am silent. There might be a time when it will be there, upon my chest, like it had been for so many months. The months we had been together, when Spring was clear and Summer was on heat. A shadow had fallen over us and we had never been able to clear it up.

I rise. "Come." And he follows my outstretched hand.

Could it be as it was in Spring... when we had met there by the fallen god, me, confused and awkward, only sixteen. Almost five years have passed and we are still so young. Much too young to remain in sorrow.

My feet stop at a tomb with a marble plate. Mutually we look down, silently. My heart starts to flutter when he turns his back. Away from the grave. He is breathing hard.

Then, his hand searches for mine and I follow his movement, directly into his arms. "Let the shadows rest", he whispers.

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1

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Summer was over in Luca's heart. He couldn't speak about Alessandro's betrayal. He didn't know what to think then. He wasn't sure whether to believe his affirmations or not. How could he believe him? The light heartedness of the summer was overshadowed. Rosso had asked a hundred times what had happened when they parted at the railway station, Rosso and the kids stepping onto the train to Pisa. The Ferrari was much too small for other people in addition to themselves, and Luca was glad about that. He didn't want to talk about it. Not even with Rosso. Perhaps Tristano would understand him. He missed Giano terribly. He knew that he could tell his brother everything about it and he would know a resolution for sure.

Shortly before they reached Florence's town walls Alessandro stopped the car and drove to a footpath along the country road. He stepped out, came around the car and opened the door for Luca. "Come on out, we need a walk", he said.

Luca didn't want to, but Alessandro's outstretched hand waited. He squeezed himself out of the car, ignoring the hand. With his head bent he shuffled along, until he finally stopped under an olive tree, grasping for the everlasting, silver-green leaves. He felt himself embraced from behind and struggled, but Alessandro held him tight. "No matter what happens, gioia, always remember the night on the beach. Promise me?"

Luca's head sunk even lower.

"I haven't cheated on you, Luca. I'll tell you the full story. We had a diner at a restaurant, because I wanted to thank her for taking care of the lessons while I was ill. We had a lot to drink, that's right, but I was never that plastered that I didn't know what I was doing. We came home, I felt dizzy, plopped into my bed and the next morning I awoke with her in my bed, stark naked. She claimed she had a head ache and was sore all over because I had fucked her like a stallion."

Luca sniffed and struggled in his arms until he could look into Alessandro's eyes. "That's great cinema, isn't it. And you, were you sore too?"

"Of course not." He wiped the blond strands off Luca's forehead. "Don't look so miserable, carino. That's all I know. I swear. Why don't you believe me? Have I ever done anything to make you wary?"

Luca pondered and finally shook his head. "No, you haven't."

"Good. Now to the other problem, since I wasn't sleeping with her, it can't be my baby."

"You forget the possibility that she could have given you a drug, making you sleep, and then…" Luca broke off as soon as he realized the impossibility of Alessandro ever been able to get a hard on while he was doped. It would work vice versa, but not that way.

"But she takes an oath that you slept with her?" Luca said now more hopefully. "I've heard about pills from America making you lose your sexual inhibitions, called "rape pills".

"You've heard about some odd things", Alessandro smirked. He pulled Luca into his arms, burying his head into Luca's hair. "I'm determined not to marry her, believe me. Will you come to my place tonight?"

Luca nodded.

*

"Congratulations on your fine plot, zio." Alessandro said with an acrid voice. Arrigo slowly folded the newspaper he was reading and stood up. "Congratulations, too, my son", he said smiling, with forced cheerfulness. He came up to his nephew and went to embrace him. Alessandro stepped back. "Don't you dare touch me", Alessandro hissed. "I assume you were the first to know about Leoni's pregnancy, right? So, your plan has worked out. We can all be satisfied." His face was calm but in the depth of his blue eyes he was boiling.

"You look great, son", Arrigo said unmoved and cool as ever. "Please sit down here at the table with me and have a drink." He went to the bar and mixed a Ramazzotti on ice for both of them. "I was happy indeed when Leoni told me the news. Though..." he sized up Alessandro who had leaned back in the leather armchair, "of course I couldn't be sure that you would follow our plan. You certainly remember that we agreed to find a woman for you who would give birth to a child for the Gondi family. She would be paid and that's that." He paused and offered Alessandro the drink. He took it and washed his dry throat. Arrigo sat opposite in the other chair, his eyes never leaving Alessandro's eyes. "We have found her. She agreed to the arrangement, to our satisfaction. Salute, Alessandro. I'm proud of you."

Alessandro felt sick. "And what makes you think that this baby is mine?" he said quietly and dangerously clear. "Have you any proof of it?"

"Leoni is a decent girl, my dear. And why should I doubt her words? She and I had an agreement. Why wouldn't she fulfill her side of it?"

"Easy enough. Because I never slept with her! "

"No? Leoni told me a different story. Sure, she needed some tricks to make you interested in her, but that should have worked."

Alessandro laughed. "That's funny, zio. You put her words over mine. When I say, there wasn't a fuck, then there wasn't any. I'm not going to marry her until the baby's born and it's proven I'm the father. Which won't be the case." He leaned back again and emptied his glass.

"Don't be stupid, son." Arrigo's face was white with determination. "It's not about the family anymore. It's about the money. You shall marry and have a son. A child at least. Who will care whose child it is, eh? If the church wants proof I can easily provide the right proof of you being the father. You can do everything with money." He outstretched his hand. "Deal?"

Alessandro ignored Arrigo's hand. "There's something else", he said. "You wrote that I'm to come home and stop studying. No way, zio. I will continue to study or you'll have to shoot me."

"You don't seriously think I'll leave Leoni running around with a fat belly for shame for everyone to see? Without a husband?"

Alessandro snorted. "Which planet do you live on? Who cares about a pregnant woman?"

"Florence cares! I won't destroy the girl's reputation. I owe her father's reputation. We aren't any old workers such as the Montori's!"

"Ah! It's about the Montori's, right? Well. I think Luca's father is worth a hundred times more than you, setting her up like a fat drone, counting the money that's left from the huge Gondi-fortune. I'm not going to make it easier for you." Alessandro rose and banged the glass upon the table's marble top. He was about to storm out of the house.

"Alessandro? You'll think it over. It won't do any harm. A piece of paper and your father's ridiculous mistake will be corrected."

Alessandro stopped in his tracks and came closer. When their noses almost touched Alessandro whispered "You should be ashamed, Arrigo di Gondi-Lucertola. This is the noble spirit of Florence, is it. Stinginess and a cold heart. I thought our family history would mean something to you. That you don't want to let it die out. But all you think of is the money." He breathed in deeply. "It might be that you have made an agreement with Leoni, but you forgot one thing: Leoni's love for me."

Arrigo was mute, then his roaring laughter boomed through the room. "Leoni's love for you is not much more than lust for you. She got what she wanted, but apparently you're so good that she wants more." He suggestively raised an eye brow. "Never underestimate a woman, Alessandro. Don't make her appetite grow and then leave her alone unsatisfied. Her revenge will be terrible."

"You sow the wind, now reap the storm", Alessandro said coolly and left the house.

Leoni sneaked around the corner from where she was waiting and listening. Her eyes met Arrigo's gloomy facial expression. "It doesn't look too good, Leoni", he started. "My nephew is blessed with the Gondi's bullheadedness, and nobody can force him into something. At least not voluntarily."

"He still denies the night we had", Leoni interrupted him furious. "Though I swear to you, nobody else is a possibility."

Arrigo watched her with sharp eyes. "It doesn't matter, Leoni. See if you can persuade him to marry you. Everything that follows will be all right."

Leoni nodded. Not very convinced she left the house. What was she to offer? Actually nothing except the prospect of money, so that Alessandro could continue his expensive and careless life style. And of course she would participate then. Arrigo Gondi might be a sharp thinking business man, but he knew nothing about feelings. Absentminded she stroked her abdomen and prayed to every god she knew that the baby would be a son and healthy.

* * * * *

Tristano dialled Vito's number, but still the answering machine told him that he was on holiday. Startled he lifted the receiver, when his own phone rang and his face lit up. "Luca! Back from your holidays? Yes, I'm well. I just can't reach Vito. Huh?" Tristano listened. "Rosso has Sergio's phone number? He had asked about me? Why didn't he say earlier?"

Sergio... Tristano thought, while he sat slumped and ponderously in the corner of his sofa. It was drizzling outside, and a first whiff of autumn touched the town, even though it was only the first week in September. Sergio had given Rosso his number, but since Tristano didn't know about that and had never visited him in hospital he might be pissed at him and didn't want to bother with him anymore. Well... it was worth a try nonetheless. On the other hand… Tristano rose and crouched in front of the aquarium to watch his fish. He knocked softly on the glass. What did he want with a call-boy? On the very other hand... he hadn't had sex since the night with Sergio and his hormones were in uproar.

His tiny, black catfish snapped for a few grains of food and reminded him that he needed something to cook for when Luca was coming in the afternoon. He had liked Jamie's recipes. He rushed into his kitchen and leafed through the cookery book of the Naked Chef and stopped at a risotto. Good. Hopefully Luca liked risotto. He skimmed the list of ingredients and then rushed to the grocery shop next door.

Once more it smelled enticing when Luca slipped into Tristano's flat. "Don't say you've cooked for me again. I'm too embarrassed. Here." He pressed a package into Tristano's arms. "Wine, this time not from the Gondi's wine cellar."

Tristano unwrapped something else. "Marble?" he shouted out. "Genuine Carrara-marble?"

"Genuine. And a hen's god." Luca went straight into the kitchen and sniffed.

"Hen's god? What's that for Christ sake?" Tristano had lifted the small black-white stone and found the hole. "Ah, I can thread it on a ribbon and wear it around my neck, right?" He laughed. It was too good to see Luca again.

"Sandro called it by that name", Luca shrugged. "What have you cooked?"

"Risotto." Tristano had followed Luca and now embraced him from behind. "Thanks for the presents, they are lovely."

Luca briefly leaned against Tristano's body. If only Sandro was so easy going like Tristano… Why did everything have to be so complicated? But he didn't want to appear weak or laden with problems in front of his buddy. Although… he had come here for exactly that reason: to spill out his problems and find perhaps a solution. He just needed a bit more time.

"You look absolutely great", Tristano said, but then he let go of Luca's body and instead stirred the pot. "Risotto of lemon thyme, prosciutto, pecorino and goat's cheese", he announced and lifted the cooking spoon. "Try."

Luca tried and made an approving face. "Where's the goat cheese?" he asked.

"Later. Now go, I'll follow."

Tristano set the steaming plates upon the table, together with the slices of ham and the cheese. He decorated the ham over the rice and crumbled the cheese over the top. Luca watched him with cocked head. "Naked Chef?"

"Of course." Tristano grinned and lifted the wine glass, Luca had filled. "Salute. To your holidays."

Luca coughed, but swallowed the wine. Then he put a note upon the table. "Before I forget, Rosso gave me this. Sorry he didn't remember earlier. But we weren't sure if you wanted to see Sergio again." He anxiously watched Tristano's reaction who took the note and read the phone number. "Well, I'm not sure if a call-boy can be something good for me. Surely I'd have to pay him if I want a date, right?" Over his steaming plate he looked at Luca and wished he could kiss him. Kiss him and do with him what he dreamt of. The whole night.

"Have you paid him for the last night?" Luca asked, ignoring Tristano's stare.

"Of course not. He was gone when I woke up. Perhaps it was his night of charity."

"Or he was keen on you and did it for fun", Luca winked at him.

"Can a call-boy have fun with sex? Or does he consider it just his profession? I mean, can he develop real feelings?"

Luca shrugged and ate his risotto. "By the way, this tastes marvellous. It's about time I'm sent Jamie a thank-you-letter."

They smiled at each other and Luca had to lower his gaze because of Tristano's fiery and longing eyes. "Nothing from the policeman?" he asked, when he had finished the risotto, leaned back and was sipping at his wine.

"Still on holiday. Apropos, you haven't told me about yours."

"Well," Luca started, "Sun, sand and sex. Oops", he grimaced playfully. "Sorry. It was great. We went to the quarry and the apartment was actually a small villa, much too big for us; Sandro's always exaggerating, oh, and we met Giuliano who was nasty to Sandro."

He refilled his glass and drank it down. Tristano stared astonished. "Do you want me to tell something? Otherwise why are you so nervous?"

In an instant Luca's composure broke. He covered his face with his palms and sobbed. Tristano was stunned, then he jumped up and dragged Luca to the sofa, where he sat with him, and cuddled him in his arms. "What happened, Luca? Did you break up with him?" He couldn't stop the hopeful tone in his voice, but Luca shook his head. "He has to get married", erupted from deep within him. He loosened his body from Tristano's, took a deep breath and told him everything, from the will of Matteo Gondi to Leoni's pregnancy.

Tristano stared at him with disbelieving eyes which grew larger and larger. "Holy cow", he managed to say after a long pause of silence after Luca had finished his tale. "That's... I've never heard such a story. Not in reality at least. And why... I mean, do you believe him?"

"Would you?" Luca's eyes were bloodshot from suppressed emotions. Tristano rose and opened another bottle wine. "Here, drink, it's good for your nerves." With his own glass he sat close to Luca upon the sofa and took him into his arms. It was so good to hold him... and he didn't know what to hope. "Sandro was behind everything - skirt and trousers, right? At least that's what I'd heard about him before I met him in person. Does he play on both teams?"

"Not for as long as I've known him. He speaks rather disparagingly about girls. I mean, about sex with girls. But Leoni seems to be completely gaga about him, you know. She's always showing up, even one morning when we were still laying in bed. I don't know what to do!"

"It's not about what you'll do, but about Sandro's decision." Tristano sipped at his glass and stared into the softly lit aquarium, watching the bubbles streaming to the water's surface. What would you do in Luca's shoes? Let Sandro do what he wants? Let him marry, let him become a father, and afterwards live happily from the millions with him? Would that be such a hard sacrifice? One thing he approved of: that Sandro didn't want to marry before the child was born and proven as his own. But that implied that Alessandro wasn't unwilling to marry IF it was his kid. Which meant that Sandro took into consideration that it could be his -- or that he had succumbed to the money's temptation. Tristano couldn't blame him for that. Everything depended upon what Luca thought about it. "Would it be very sad for you if he did marry? Would you set him free? Or can you live as his lover on the side?"

"I can't share", was Luca's short answer. "It's either her or me."

Tristano said nothing. He cradled Luca in his arms. "But he could have twenty million. Isn't it worth it to play a little charade?"

"It might be", Luca admitted after a while. "Then both could have played openly, his uncle especially. They could have make a deal to rip off the church and everything. Perhaps it would have been fun. But now I'm damned to sit and wait to see if the baby is his. And if it is his, then it's over. I can't be even be friends with someone lying to me."

"That's a deal, Luca."

Luca struggled from Tristano's arms. "I must go."

"To him?"

Luca shook his head. "Thanks for the risotto and the wine." He smiled. "And for your ear. I'm sorry to appear like a cry baby, but I needed to talk."

Tristano nodded. He hesitated when Luca had gone, but then he dialled Sergio's mobile number. It was dead. Tristano sighed. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with him. Neither Vito nor Sergio, not to mention Luca. Perhaps he should go to a gay pub… Alone? Out of the question. But perhaps...

But then he just jumped under the shower and jerked off alone, dreaming about the night with Luca, while Sergio's large, anthracite eyes sneaked into his wet dream until he didn't know anymore who was turning him on more.

* * * * *

The next week Luca was reserved. He didn't want to see Alessandro, he could beg him as much as he wanted. He showed up several times at the Montori palazzo but was turned away by Clarissa, her heart bleeding with not understanding what had happened. Luca also never answered the phone calls, but kept himself to himself. Just as Giano returned from Germany he found enough strength to describe his dilemma once again.

He saw the shock in Giano's eyes. Nobody should be confronted with such a decision, he had stammered and Luca had a sort of revelation. He found Alessandro upon his loggia, , reading Masolino's diary, a half-eaten plate with spaghetti on the wicker table. His hair was uncombed and a little matted, his eyes dull and puffed. When Luca entered the loggia he hardly looked up. "What's the matter Arrigo? I told you there's nothing more to discuss", he said tiredly.

"It's me", Luca said cautiously.

Alessandro jumped up. The lapis lazuli rolled from his lap and cracked on the ground. "Luca", he said, not bothering with the stone. But then a shadow fell over his eyes again, and his smile died. "Are you coming to say good bye?"

"Good bye?" Luca asked astonished, then bent down and picked up the stone. It had a crack in the middle. "Giano's back. The only thing he said was that nobody should be confronted with such a decision and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I wasn't on your side. You must think that I don't have faith in you and that I suppose that you were cheating on me without any real proof. When you said you hadn't slept with her I should have believed you because I... because I..."

Alessandro's eyes lit up and started to sparkle. "Because... you...?"

Luca shook his head and literally jumped into Alessandro's arms. "Nothing. I'm happy. Together we can face it, can't we." He devoured Alessandro's lips and felt so tightly embraced that it hurt. "It was just a shock to hear that she claims that you are the father of her baby." He looked into his boyfriend's eyes. "Have you seen her again?"

"No. Only Arrigo. He comes here every day without warning and it's no use to wander around the town to avoid him. Where would I go alone without you? He would find me everywhere. I'm counting the days until I can return to Pisa. Arrigo will flip for he forbade me to continue my study. He says Florence's society has to see that I and Leoni are a couple."

"When do you go?" Luca asked breathless.

"In ten days. The new semester starts soon and I need to study a bit on my own first."

"Ten days..." Luca whispered.

"Do you remember the night on the beach?" Alessandro asked deep in the night when they were tired from sex, laying there with lazy limbs. The radio played Mama Cass and Alessandro hummed along with her, until he sat up and sang along in his baritone voice: "Stars shining bright above you, Night breezes seem to whisper I love you, Birds singing in the sycamore tree, Dream a little dream of me..."

Luca laughed out loud. "I dreamt too much of you, amore", he said and fell with him against the pillows.

"Say nighty-night and kiss me; Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone, blue as can be, Dream a little dream of me..."

They still grinned at each other. "Kiss me", Luca said playfully. "And hold me tight and tell me you missed me."

"I missed you", Alessandro said instantly. "Jesus, what are you doing to me? I've said things I've never wanted to say." But if Luca had thought Alessandro was in a mushy mood, he was mistaken. And it was good this way. Better not to say too much, nor promise too much in case neither of them could hold to it.

Luca peeled his breakfast egg, peering over the table. Alessandro ate nothing - as always. He never had breakfast, he was just slurping coffee that was a lot stronger than the chicory-coffee Clarissa used to brew. "Raniero's still in custody", Luca started. "This time they will sentence him, don't you think? I just wonder if he will give away other names. Marcello's for instance."

"Your brothers? And Dante? You haven't told me about him lately. Has he eaten chalk? Or is he using a tiny percent of his brain finally?"

"Perhaps both. The police are investigating a connection between the attack at the Cascine and the attack on us, months ago. Do you think life has gotten dangerous for us?"

Alessandro gave him a long glance. "Hopefully not. Though we mustn't show any fear. That's what they want, all right?"

Luca nodded. And anyway, the threat was so unrealistic and far away from the protecting walls of the Lizard-tower. Everybody had to watch out for themselves, no matter if they were gay or straight.

"I'm going to see Leoni today", Alessandro started. "I'm sure we'll just end up arguing, but I have to do something. It's clear that there is no way I will marry her."

"No?" Luca gave him a mysterious look. "What if you did? You'd have the money."

Alessandro rolled his eyes and leaned forward. "What are you saying? Don't make me completely dizzy. One day you're pissed that I've slept with her, then you say why not marry her?! Please, gioia. Don't say anything about the issue and give me time to decide, ok?"

"Ok", Luca grumbled. "I just want to say that it's fine with me whatever you decide."

"Really? You would be my forbidden lover?" Alessandro appeared amused.

"As long as I can bear you..."

Alessandro nodded. That might not be long, he thought. He was surprised anyway, that someone had put up with him and his exhausting personality for such a long time. That Luca could have very personal reasons such as living with him with all his money - he considered that the least. That wasn't Luca's personality at all. Perhaps he just didn't want to lose him.

____________________

 

2

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They met again at the bar of the Villa Kazar. Due to the cheerless weather the fairground was closed and the music boomed inside the discotheque. Sergio still had a bandage around his left forearm, but was swinging it with considerable verve.

Tristano leaned against the metallic shimmering bar, watched him and caught winks from other guys which he ignored the best he could. He saw a group of boys, standing together as if they had got lost in a forest of sexual offers and adventures. Exactly the same as Tristano felt, except that his sex drive was over boarding. Tristano didn't recognize himself anymore. Sex had played a minor role in his life so far, and that, what he had gotten of it, wasn't exactly satisfying. He still gazed at the group of boys, clutching the bottles with Campari-Mix, dressed up like upper class hustlers, but not feeling comfortable about it. Frightened they eyed the display of tattooed flesh and muscles, naked upper bodies, shirts crammed into the pockets of too tight jeans, leaving no mistake about size and sometimes hardness.

Tristano hardly noticed when someone leant beside him against the bar, until a sexy voice said softly "Ciao, bello."

Tristano stared into large anthracite eyes that looked blankly at him.

"I thought you would call", Sergio said. "I did that for the first time in my life." He screwed up one eye. "Giving out my private phone number I mean. I thought the red-head had forgotten to give it to you."

"Huh? Why should I call you? To set a date? I don't think I need to pay for sex." Tristano turned his body to him. "You left without a word. Do you know how that feels?"

"What do you want? This here", Sergio embraced the whole discotheque with his healthy arm, " is just body watching or a meat market as I used to say. Built up muscles with pea brains. It's about who has the longest cock and who beats the record of eleven ejaculations a night."

"Only eleven? Who's the record holder, a seventy year old man?" Tristano mocked with a straight face.

Sergio looked nonplussed, then he laughed out loud. He turned to the bar tender. "Two glasses of wine, please."

"Wine?" Tristano asked, but was pleased. He liked wine more than anything.

"It's the Villa Kazar and not any filthy pub", Sergio said. Tristano was glad that he wasn't pissed at him about the way he had accused him of being a call-boy.

Sergio clinked his glass with Tristano's. "You're lucky that I didn't take my reward from your wallet. Or do you have other treasures?" He grinned. "Don't pull such a face. I didn't want money because you're new to the scene." Sergio ran his fingers through Tristano's hair. A tender touch that Sergio stopped instantly. He looked around to see if anyone had caught him.

"Are you on duty then?" Tristano asked.

"On duty? I'm always on duty. It's my profession."

Tristano's look fell to Sergio's arm. "Were you seriously hurt?" he asked.

"It's all right. Just fractured." A whiff of seriousness scurried over his face. "That was completely shit. I hope they are all put into jail."

"Yeah", Tristano agreed, suddenly with a queasy feeling in his guts. What if it happened again? What if they weren't safe anymore? He hoped that Raniero had given all the names of the people involved.

Since there was playing a smooth melody, Sergio pulled Tristano by the front of his shirt to the dance floor and started to turn to the music, thigh to thigh and groin to groin, but still elegantly holding the wine glass in one hand. With the other he kneaded Tristano's arse. "You weren't anything like a rookie last night we met, bello", he cooed. "You've done it before, right? Have you met the policeman again?" Sergio's eyes were glowing. "I was pretty jealous, you know."

Tristano was taken aback and confused. Nonetheless he left himself to Sergio's guidance and the swaying of his hips. His well-stuffed package touched Tristano's from time to time. He thought it was all right to have a hard-on. But still he thought Sergio would not be able to develop feelings for someone who was just his fuck buddy. "What are you blabbering about? First you used me and threw me away like a discarded slipper and now you're jealous? Vito said that he had had you."

Sergio laughed, his head tucked in his neck. "You're right, mio bello. I can't afford feelings of any kind. Vito's a real sex bomb, by the way. Can I come to your place then?"

Tristano was shocked. "I don't have any money."

"Take it for free."

"Why?"

Sergio nibbled at his ear lobe. "For your innocence."

"What do you consider a sex bomb?" Tristano asked as Sergio was undressing him slowly near the aquarium that was the only source of light in the flat, except for the small lamp on his nightstand. But Sergio hadn't given him time to prepare anything. He was all over him like a soft blowing zephyr. "I thought you'd know. Haven't you fucked him?"

"He's on holiday. I've got only his phone number."

"What a pity", Sergio said indistinctly because he was sucking at Tristano's slip-covered cock, soaking the white fabric until it was translucent and Tristano's juice mingled with Sergio's saliva. "How... do you ... mean that?" Tristano panted with wobbling legs, protecting his back with the wardrobe.

"A pity for you..." Sergio muffled, sliding his palms over Tristano's thighs up into the slip, cupping his arse cheeks. "A sex bomb is somebody who can do it more often than eleven times a night." Now he pulled down the pants and swallowed the cock in one, slow-motion action.

"Can you?" Tristano's eyes were tightly closed and he withstood the urge to instantly squirt into Sergio's mouth. But he knew he couldn't hold on for long. The friction was exquisite, as was the warmth and the wetness. And Sergio was doing something with his hole; gyrating movements and a pressure that kept him moaning. It was too late - Sergio had to swallow his load and milked him like a farmer his cow until the last drop, finally licking the slit and sucking gingerly at the crown. "Have I told you that I love sex?" he said then, letting himself fall onto the carpet, pulling Tristano on top of him. "It's your turn. The first of eleven."

It had been a hot night, when Tristano came to his senses again. It wasn't anything like the night he had spent with Luca. That belonged to another life and to another quality of feelings. Sergio was pure sex, and only sex. And he didn't want to be paid - that was the best thing. When he awoke around 11 in the morning, he was alone again. But there was a letter on the night stand:

"Ciao bello,

Thanks for the night. Next time you'll break the record.

Sergio"

Was that a promise of a repeat or just the pure announcement that he would have sex with another? Why did he always have to vanish before he was awake? Why was there no breakfast together? Or a last cuddle?

Tristano stretched his body lazily and felt every muscle hurt, even those he hadn't any idea that they existed. Again the room smelled of male sex and the bedcovers smelled like him. He limped into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. He wished he had a tub to bath his crunched body, but so he had to made do with the stream of water, splashing upon his head, washing away all the smell and streaks and stains, only the hickeys he couldn't wash away.

The gloomy weather had made way for a brilliant late September summer's day when Tristano stepped upon the small balcony, overlooking the street. It was partially hidden by pine trees and allowed Tristano privacy. The block opposite was close. He had dressed in fresh pants and nothing else, and enjoyed the warmth of the low September sun. His cup of coffee in hand, he leaned against the rail. Of course he understood Sergio as what he was: a sex-maniac who had turned his hobby into profession so to speak. He had laid no claim to any kind of feelings, or commitments. It was just fun. Good. If Sergio never wanted money, Tristano could continue on until all eternity. At least until he was able to reach Vito. Is Vittorio his real name? he pondered. "The victorious", Tristano grinned to himself. Perhaps he would finally be the winner of his heart. It was about time he forgot about Luca. Despite the problems he had with Alessandro, he didn't seem to be determined to end his relationship, but hold on with a stamina very unusual for a guy his age. You could fall in love easily and each time with refreshed emotions, that was clear enough to Tristano. But was there more behind it? And what could that be? Anyway…. he was thrilled to see the development of the events. What would Alessandro decide? If Luca would still be on his side then. And if not…. Tristano looked into his empty coffee cup. Perhaps he could win his heart.

* * * * *

If Alessandro expected a Fury coming to visit him at the Lizard-tower, he was mistaken. Leoni was well-behaved, reluctant and deserved an Oscar for her performance as best actress in a B-movie. At least she had taken up his invitation - eagerly it seemed. She had refused the Ramazzotti-mix on the rocks, and gave the excuse of the pregnancy. Alessandro followed an urgent compulsion to laugh. As if the old Florentine families had ever followed any rules. It was quite the opposite: they wrote the rules. And now Leoni da Firenzuola would dance to his rules.

"Why can't we go upstairs to your room", Leoni whined, sitting uncomfortably on the kitchen chair. "You could light a fire, it's getting cool."

Alessandro shook his head. So that she would have it easier seducing him, eh? His blue eyes studied her coolly. She was dressed in a loose dress as if she had to hide a baby-belly. She looked so ridiculous and of course she had put on this masquerade for the people on the streets to see: Leoni was going to her groom, chaste and with downcast eyes. "Will you keep up this charade?" he asked relaxed, sipping at his drink. "We both know very well what you're playing. And for the good old days you should stop this and be honest with me." He bent forward. "There never was a dally between us, right? You can't be so stupid to make a guy think that he's fucked a girl without having any memory of it. This baby is not mine. Whose is it?"

Leoni's first reaction was to deny. Then her brain kicked in and her green eyes started to radiate. "All right, Alessandro Gondi. Let's end this stupid game. I had hoped that you would fall in love with me again. But tried as I could, you only have that Montori-boy on your mind. You've got it bad, right? Amazing and surprising at the same time. As far as I know you've never fallen in love. Well… whatever you do in the future, you'll never learn the name of the baby's father."

Alessandro allowed himself the tiniest of a relieved breath. "Fine with me. Keep your secrets to yourself. What is the deal with Arrigo exactly then? Are you in need of money? I've heard your father's business isn't working out very well." 'And he has almost squandered the inheritance in Monte Carlo's gambling dens', he added bitchily in his mind.

Leoni's face was covered with frantic blotches from one second to the next. "Who's told you that?", she hissed, but then give in. "OK. We are broke. But you've got all the money, all the Gondi's money, earned over five centuries." She looked him straight in the eyes. "You aren't alone with your arrogant behaviour, Alessandro Gondi. I want my share. Arrigo promised me."

Alessandro thought quickly about the consequences. It was about money, nothing else. Arrigo spat upon the continuation of his family name. The Gondi's would die out. Definitely. But the da Firenzuola's would live on.

"You know I've never wanted to marry", he started, emptying his glass. He poured another Ramazzotti over the remaining ice cubes and squeezed a slice of lemon into it. "So, what I'm going to do is strictly against my principles, against my concept of life and against my plans I have with Luca. Don't laugh", he said sharply and with eyes, so cold, Leoni shuddered. She knew this stare very well. Not without good reason had the Gondi's survived through all the centuries - until their ridiculous end at the start of the 21st century. After all, their last offspring would rescue the money. With her help. Even if it was just a fake.

"Why didn't you talk to me right from the start?" Alessandro asked. "Why this fairytale opera?"

"It was all Arrigo's idea", she defended herself. "He knows I want you. I've never stopped wanting you." She had found the strength to talk calmly and in a reasonable manner. But inwardly everything was screaming. "As long as there was a little chance you could voluntarily marry me, without the pressure of your father's will - I took it. The result might be … bad and I have to put up with it. So… is it a deal? The marriage can be held whenever you want."

Alessandro stared into the brown liquid in his glass. The ice cubes clinked softly and melted slowly away. Luca would know what a sacrifice he was making. A piece of paper, an exchange of rings and a newborn baby. That was all that was needed to become the richest man in town. Like in the ancient days. "Deal", he said aloud. "With a few conditions."

Leoni looked expectantly at him.

"Everything remains as it is. We both stay in Pisa, continuing our study. No one will get wind of it. When the baby's one year old we'll have an unfortunate divorce."

"But...! Alessandro! I'm not a back stairs-relation! Soon everyone will see about my condition, and what then?" She straightened her back. "No", she said decidedly. "I want to live in your villa at Fiesole until the baby's coming. Anastasia will be there for my help. D'accordo?"

Alessandro arched his brows. "All the better." She was out of the way and he could continue as if nothing had happened. Arrigo had to prepare the prior of the Dominican church that he was unfortunately losing all the pretty money because the heir had thought twice and had turned into a expectant young groom, caring for his wife.

Leoni and Alessandro measured each other with looks. They were equal, they knew.

As soon as Leoni had left the palazzo Alessandro made his way to his uncle's office where he sat bent over his books and controlled the proceeds of his Tuscan villa and the leather factory. His face was pinched when his nephew burst into his office, ignoring the secretary and throwing himself into the leather chair opposite. "Listen, zio", he started. His eyes weren't steady, but wandered everywhere, too troubled to fix his uncle gaze. "We've made a deal, Leoni and I. We'll marry at the soonest date. I'm going back to Pisa and she's staying at Fiesole. Mother won't mind, will she?" A brief sneer appeared upon his face. "She's staying there until the baby comes. It's your job to convince the monks that this baby is mine because it isn't. You could have spared yourself all of this filthy little drama. I'm not a boy you can't talk to, you know. We've always both been fond of clear details. Right?"

Arrigo smelled the alcohol. Apparently Alessandro had drunk more than he could take. "Congratulations, son. I had almost given up faith in Leoni's abilities. D'accordo, let's play open: Leoni was despairing because you didn't want to sleep with her. She gave you drugs, but that had the result that you weren't able to do anything. Instead of being horny you were sleeping like a log." He interrupted himself and grinned. "A pity for her." The grin vanished and his forefinger pierced the air. " But I said that you'll stay here with Leoni at Firenze and stop your study at Pisa. You might remember we considered that at the very start of this drama", he said sharply but Alessandro interrupted him. "No way, zio. This time you play by my rules. I'm the one setting the conditions. And I say, it's Pisa and my life with Luca Montori or you can forget about the money, capisce?"

Arrigo glared at him, black eyes brooding like a swampy hole. He chewed on his tongue, then he had to admit defeat. He slowly lifted his hands and grinned. "All right, all right. Whatever you want. Too bad the baby will only be a bastard. Not that anyone needs to know. Now let's get to the next part of our little deal. It will take me some effort to convince the doctors that the baby's yours, right? Remember, the lawyers of the monks aren't daft. Perhaps we can arrange a real baby for you and her. and the house of the Gondi's. Just as proof for the lawyers…. So, I guess it's only fair if let's say 25 percent of the inheritance goes on me?" He closed one eye and winked with the other.

"Whatever it takes." Alessandro rose and stretched out his hand. "Deal."

Arrigo shook his nephew's hand.

Alessandro went straight to the first bar, buying two bottles of Ramazzotti. He was determined to lock himself in and get drunk. He was pissed at himself; the coolness with which he had carried through all this was just a mask. At home, he ran upstairs to his room under the roof and threw himself in the wicker chair upon the open loggia. He opened the bottle and poured the brown liquid over some ice cubes.

Had he sold out his convictions? Was it immoral, especially towards Leoni? She had told him she would love him still, and wanted him back. That was certainly her problem, not his. She had given him enough for that matter. And what would happen if she lost the baby? Then they would have married in vain and all the money would be lost.

Desperately he swallowed the schnapps and cursed his father. How on earth had he come up with such a wacky idea? Could nobody stop it? Alessandro crowed. It was indeed absurd. The obstinate minds of the Gondi's was legendary. Not without reason had they held on in this town for so long. Even longer than anyone else, except Leoni's family and the Pucci's. And the Montori's naturally… Hadn't Luca told him once that his family had been wool weavers and dyers, delivering to the court of the Medici's and had received the family palazzo from the last Medici as thank for loyal service? Alessandro nodded to himself and poured his second glass.

But anyhow, he couldn't whitewash himself from the fact of having sold his future and his soul for money. But who - facing such a hard decision - would act differently? Even his sincere Luca had seen in the end that he too would succumb to the lure of the money - probably. On further consideration, Alessandro wasn't to lose anything since he still had his boyfriend AND would get the money in the end. He just had to care for Leoni. Anastasia and the villa in the hilly town of Fiesole was exactly the right place for a too thin, pregnant woman. He grinned. Well done, Alessandro. And poured out his third glass.

It was oppressively sultry on this September afternoon and not even up here was a tiny breeze blowing. Alessandro plucked his shirt from his body and sat only in his trousers. In a couple of days he had to say good bye to Florence and Luca. Arrigo had tried to force him to stay here and give up his study, but Arrigo had to realize in the end that this would be the most stupid thing that he could do. Nobody would buy it, that Alessandro married Leoni out of love if everyone saw him making out with Luca in public. On the other hand - Alessandro poured out his fourth glass - who seriously cared about someone playing on both teams. One would decide - in the end.

His mobile played a melody. Alessandro wanted to call Luca to tell him the news, but he didn't feel anything like having a meaningful talk. Nonetheless he answered with a slurring voice telling Luca that he should come over.

"You was right, gioia", Alessandro blabbered drunkenly. "Leoni had given me drugs. She hoped I would be horny as hell for her then, but the result was I got tired and my memory was erased. Pah". He laughed.

Luca had put him onto the sofa to lie down, and taken away the almost empty bottle of Ramazzotti. "Will you be a witness to my marriage? You promised me to support every decision I'd make, remember?" He hiccuped and his eyes fluttered.

Luca shook his head. So the inner swine had won, he thought sadly. For money Alessandro had sold all his arrogance, his pride and perhaps his love-life. Luca couldn't imagine how life would then be in reality, when Sandro had a wife and a baby to care for. That was the most strangest thing that he could envisage.

Alessandro snored softly. Luca sighed. He examined the room with his eyes, then he stepped up to the bookcase and peered through its glass doors. He pulled out some heavy volumes, telling of Florence's history, about the history of art. He even found Giorgio Vasari's Compendium of Italian artists and looked up the names of Brunelleschi, Donatello, Masolino and Masaccio, skimming through their curriculum vitae. Recently those names had become so familiar to him that he knew them almost like good friends. Therefore he pulled out Masolino's diary from the drawer, where Alessandro had put it in again. He hesitated, then he vanished downstairs to the kitchen and returned in the elevator with a cup of hot coffee to sit at the small table and absorbed himself again in a tale that had been told 575 years ago.

Budapest, Luglio 1429

"We were arguing about everything. Me and Tommaso and Giovanni - "Lo Scheggia". His "splinter" seduced me every night, so that I do not know anymore what is heads or tails. I could not resist. I had been corrupted to the inner core. How can someone like me - a decent, pious man, be so unstinting, so weak-willed so to succumb to his dirty needs? I could not find an answer. How could I ever find a way out of this sick, lewd relationship? Dear God, forgive me, I've visited brothels that exist only for that purpose and might be able to guide a fallen man to the right way back. I do not know. I had never felt the same - as there in Tommaso's arms. Never so alive, never so wanted. Never so full of fire. Rome is indeed a den of iniquity.

Tommaso's brother led us into special establishments where the man is pleased by a man And I swear to God Almighty that I have seen more than one time a red cardinal's robes sinking to the floor and catamites sucking lecherously at the centre of their old bodies... You see, I dare to call the things by their names. My feather pen trembles, but it trembles for avidity. More than one time I let myself be seduced by experienced men's hands; by mouths, promising Heaven rather than Hell. They were orgies to my eyes: Tommaso and me and Giovanni and countless men and nobody knew who was doing what with whom. I was drunk. I was blind. I was eternally hungry. I was...

I knew Giovanni wanted his brother for himself. I was always in his way. It was an unhealthy connection, obscene and incestuous.

In Rome we painted by day and at night we surrendered to the most unspeakable acts. The chapel of the Santa Catarina di Alessandria had been a commission of work for me, but of course Tommaso had followed me, leaving the unfinished Brancacci-chapel and Florence behind us. I had insisted it was either us both - for the public master and pupil - or neither of us and the priest of the church of San Clemente would have to look for another painter. I knew very well that there was no one like my Tommaso. 'Masaccio' - as they lovingly called him. To me they never referred to his big stature, but to the greatness of his enormous talent, and the development the Art of painting had made, thanks to him. I was not his master. I was his pupil. In every direction. But Tommaso and Giovanni were made from the same stuff. Fiery, merciless, extreme, all consuming, ruthless and infinite ... I have no word for it. Free perhaps. No, this is not the word. They were filled with desire I could not ease. I was the buffer between both. And one day I knew I would be only in their way.

It had been raining for a week and the chapel was damp and cold. We had a constant fire on to dry the daily task of freschi we had worked on. Giovanni came to bring food and wine to celebrate Tommaso's birthday. It was the twenty-first of December and we could hear the Cloaca Maxima gargling next to the chapel's walls - the great drainpipe built by the ancient Romans that gathered and carried all the dirt and excrement and rats and threw it into the soft-flowing Tiber. By this weeks rain the river had gained an unknown depth and strength and was threatening the lower banks where the poor had settled in their wooden, crooked houses, where the mud never dried and each summer malaria diminished the count of wrecked people. The popes never cared what happened to the former dazzling field of Mars - the military build up place for Rome's troops. Today they enthroned in their new palace at the Quirinale, guarded by nothing except the fickle goodwill of Rome's inhabitants. Emperor Nero said "The best protection is the love of my folk". Phoney. Poor, misguided fool.

I watched Giovanni's hand sneaking under Tommaso's painter's coat I knew Tommaso was naked underneath, and saw the unmistakable movements I used to know so well; I had been witness to it too many times. Giovanni looked directly into my eyes, with his sneering, derisive expression, as if to lure me and keep me apart, he certainly wanted his brother for himself. I had drank the pure wine. Together with the fire's heat it was going to my head, and my blood started to boil in my veins. It was not anything like the heat of a forbidden desire - it was wrath. Despair. I saw Tommaso resting his arms on the walls - the holy walls, we had covered with the deeds of Santa Catharina, pushing out his buttocks. Giovanni hid the view of it partly with his body and his unmistakable, ancient sexual movements. Again he turned his head to look for me. Inviting eyes. "You can take me from behind" he said.

The rush in my ears was deafening, until I realized it was not in my ears but in reality. The Cloaca Maxima. Water streamed in breathtaking speed through the canal, bringing sand and tree branches, washing away the stone. The ground staggered.

In a last despairing movement I jumped upon Giovanni. With a soundless cry my hands found his neck. I wanted to murder him. Tommaso was mine! My pupil. My teacher. And then "

Luca forgot the cup in his hand. Again he was so involved that he had forgotten time and place, but as he turned the page there was nothing, just the little patches on the left side of the glue binding, that told him that the diary had finished brutally, abruptly by the ripping out of the pages. He startled when his mobile rang and a good splash of his coffee spilled over the open book, on its last page, soaking the ancient leather binding with its nasty grey-brown colour. Luca cried out loud, dropped the cup and ran with the book into the bathroom where he hastily grabbed a towel to wipe off the coffee. Too late. It had eaten deeply into the old, brittle paper. The leather binding loosened and fell partly off from the wooden book cover. He pressed the towel upon the scarred, well thumbed leather and dabbed the pages that tore under his movements. Luca cursed. Masolino's handwriting started to vanish in front of Luca's eyes. Mad with despair he opened the cupboards and pulled out the fan. He switched it on and waved the warm air stream over the paper, that got instantly curled , but dried Masolino's letters. Completely devastated Luca sank upon the toilet lid. He had to find a bookbinder and instantly before Sandro would get wind of it!

He sneaked back to look at Alessandro, who snored happily. He would have a fit if he saw what Luca had done to his biggest treasure. Completely bewildered he sorted his thoughts. First he had to hide the book. No, first he had to let it dry as best as he could, then he needed a book binder to repair the soaked and torn leather, and perhaps a paper expert to care for the diary as a whole. His father came to his mind. No, out of the question. Rosso's uncle had a leather-shop. He didn't do books, but at least he had knowledge about the material. Yes.

Thirdly he had to convince Alessandro that everything was in order. He removed the towel he had wrapped around the book and saw the soaked, old, tattered and well-thumbed binding, half falling off the book. He sighed. As best as he could he hid it in the drawer half covered by Sandro's stuff. He tiptoed to the sofa and shook Sandro's shoulder. "Do you want something to eat?" he asked him. Alessandro woke up with a jolt, then he moaned.

"Geez, my head."

Luca nodded. "You have to tell me the story. I'm waiting. Instead of that, you got tanked up."

Alessandro looked surprised. "That's a new tone." He sat upright and held his head. Then everything flooded back. The blood and the memories. And still the task to tell Luca the truth. His gaze fell upon the parquet and the scattered cup. "What have you done here? Were you trying to wake me up?"

Luca hid his blush by bending down and picking up the shards. Holy shit. The brown liquid had soaked itself into the wood. Today wasn't his day, he thought quivering, but managed to clean up the shards dumping them in the bathroom's trash bin. "Sorry about that." He remembered all of a sudden the cause of the drama and pulled out his mobile. Rosso's number appeared. Good. The right man at the right time. "Water?" he asked, pulling a bottle from the little fridge in the corner.

Thankful Alessandro opened it and drank thirstily.

"I assume you had plenty reason to get drunk", Luca said, and flashed his eyes at him. "Before you started to snore you told me Leoni had given you drugs and asked me if I'd be a witness to your marriage. Congratulations, by the way."

"Ouch", Alessandro said. "That was harsh." He looked sheepishly. "I deserve the reproach, don't I." He pulled Luca next to him upon the sofa. "I'm sorry, gioia. But you must listen to me now very carefully. Promise?"

Luca didn't want to. He was still shaking from the accident that had happened to him, and he sat on hot coals wanting to look for help for the book. But how could he do it when Sandro was here?

"I need the short version, Sandro, I need to see Rosso urgently."

"Oh, you prefer the redhead to me?" Alessandro asked him playfully, but Luca ignored it. He knew anyway what was to come.

"OK. You told me lately that you would support every decision of mine. Today I had a talk with Leoni and she dropped all of her masks. She told me though that she's still after me, but will agree to a marriage. First to give the baby a decent name, second because Zio Arrigo had promised her money when she got me to come around. Well, she did."

Luca's face was closed. Alessandro took his shoulders. "I'm doing it for us. You'll never be poor again."

"I'm not poor."

"Sure you are. Think of all the things we can do together. Travel the world! Eat caviar and drink champagne every day. You could have a car and a new leather suit for every day made by Emilio Pucci. All I need to do is to sign a paper. The rest Leoni has to care for. I hope she won't mess it up."

Luca stared at him with wide eyes. He didn't know what to say. Surely Leoni had brought herself into this situation. But… "So, Leoni swears that you never slept with her?"

Alessandro nodded.

At least that was a relief. "And… what do you want from me now? That I jump for joy? Hooray, I'm going to be rich? What's to say that you'll want to share your money with me? For how long?"

Alessandro's face lost its enthusiasm. "You don't agree, right?" he said, suddenly listless.

"How can I? My boyfriend's going to get married."

"But you said you would support me. I relied on you. I trusted you that you wouldn't mind."

"Yeah." Luca dropped his head. What would Giano say? Rosso. Tristano. His parents. Dante and Marcello... Alessandro had made a laughing stock of Luca Montori. But then... the people didn't know that Alessandro Gondi was gay. Or they had just assumed it. It didn't matter in the long run. If Luca wanted to keep Alessandro he had to put up with it. But did he want him still? "You've never told me that you even like me", he said.

"But I've shown you." Alessandro laughed bitterly. "Nobody has ever told me that they like ME."

"Leoni has."

Alessandro set aside the water bottle and looked seriously into Luca's eyes. "I like you, Luca. I don't want to lose you."

Luca saw how hard it was for him to say something like that and he swallowed dryly. "You do it just for me?"

"For us."

Luca felt strangely powerful. Alessandro had given in. He was small. Remorseful. Regretful. He had said for the first time that he felt something for Luca. And his eyes told him that it was the truth. Yet Luca couldn't be happy. He was disappointed. Even though Sandro pulled him into his lap, holding him tight - there was something broken. On the brink of making a bond - there on the beach at Forte dei Marmi - it had loosened again all too soon. The gap of their upbringing and status was too big - for Luca insurmountable. Alessandro was too much the child of his family, as much as he might deny it. Even though he might fight it as long as he could - he would always be the last offspring of a noble Florentine house.

Luca stared at the last Gondi-Lucertola without really seeing him. Alessandro's mouth moved but the words didn't reach Luca's ears. But nonetheless he didn't want to give up. He liked Sandro too much. To see his mask slowly friable to reveal a vulnerable, tender core was amazing.

In the morning he left Alessandro's bed and tiptoed to the drawer, opened it soundlessly and pulled out the diary. The leather binding had dried but was now crumbly and stiff; the brittle pages almost crumbled between his fingers. Luca suppressed a heavy sigh. Cautiously he wrapped the book into a handkerchief and placed it into his rucksack.

Alessandro didn't bat an eyelid when Luca sat beside the sleeping body. How good he looked with his slightly crooked nose and the scar, dividing his eyebrow. How innocent and gentle. Secretly he wished he wasn't so caught up with Alessandro's personality. It would be easier then to break up. Luca wasn't sure if he could take it: all the things to come if Alessandro really wanted to hold his promise given to the family and Leoni. Luca couldn't be sure. You could never be sure concerning a Gondi-Lucertola. The quick and cold-blooded reactions to different circumstances had been a requirement to survive. And this family carried way too much of it.

He wrote him a short note and left the house with his rucksack. On the streets he dialed Rosso's number.

Luca breathed in the clean air on the whitewashed morning as the violet sky hung wide and clear over the town - a blue cupola over the red-white cupola of the cathedral. The tan coloured, steep clock tower of the Badia pierced the glassy air. Masaccio's brother had had his workshop here, he remembered. Following Palazzo Pazzi he crossed the small piazza, taking the same path the author of the diary had taken almost six hundred years ago. What amazed him the most was, that every little piece of history, each stone and every work of art, was the same today. They were still there, in a living museum. Hard to live in by all means, but in some ways exciting. The typical Florentine took it for granted.

Luca encircled the knave of the cathedral, passed the Opificio, his working place, and turned into a street with a block of flats from the 40's: ochre coloured and flat roofed. Rosso was standing in front of the door, obviously waiting for him.

"Where are the brothers?" Luca asked.

"Mother's taken them to the doc. They seemed to have caught a cold." Rosso sneezed as proof.

"Oh dear. You've got it too."

Rosso waved off. "Tell me about the book." His green eyes flashed feverish. He took Luca's arm and went with him into the nearest bar to buy two tramezzini and two milk coffees.

Luca sighed. "You mustn't tell anyone about this, promise me that first."

Rosso rolled his eyes. "How can I help when I can't tell anyone. You've messed up a book, so, what's the problem? Zio Enzio will repair it, don't worry." He sneezed.

Luca still hesitated. "Well, the thing is. It's a very old book. Actually it belongs in a museum, but Sandro doesn't want to give it away. It's his treasure, you know." He hesitated. Would the painters Masaccio and Masolino have any meaning to Rosso? He was sure they would. The art lessons of school weren't that long ago. Slowly he pulled the book from his rucksack and partly unwrapped it. "Oh", Rosso said, eyeing the torn leather. "What's that?" Rosso pulled cautiously at a tiny tag, peering out from under the part of the leather binding that was still intact. He pulled until he could shove it to the back of the book where the binding was missing and looked surprised at it. "There's something hidden here."

Luca's mouth was dry and he swallowed hard. Together they stared at the brittle, blotched pages. They were lighter in colour than the others. If they were what Luca was thinking they were, they had been hidden there for centuries. "Does it belong to the book?" Rosso asked, sniffing, before he pulled out a tissue and blew his nose.

Luca nodded. He didn't dare to touch the paper, nor to read it, even if his mind screamed for it. This must be the last and final pages, Masolino - or somebody else - had ripped them from the diary to hide them between wooden book cover and leather binding. "Don't you want to read it?" Rosso was already pulling at the paper pages until they fell upon the table top. They were covered with Masolino's handwriting that Luca had become familiar with. Quickly he skimmed through them while Rosso squinted his eyes in effort to decipher the letters. So it was true... Masaccio had vanished from the earth. And Luca now knew why. And where to. He knew more than Alessandro.

"Sorry, I can't read this. What's it saying?"

"Long story. Can we go to your uncle?" Very cautiously Luca took the pages with the tips of his fingers and put them between the other pages of the diary.

 

______________________

 

3

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The quarter of the work- and craftsmen was situated in the old, so-called Dante-quarter between the cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore, Santa Croce and Palazzo Vecchio. Luca had always thought it gloomy with its narrow alleys and the steeply rising, rejecting, smooth pietra serena masonry. Alessandro's palace was just at the edge of this quarter, where in ancient times the tower houses rose wall to wall - higher than any business tower, higher than any clock tower. The remains of such a tower house still stood not far from the small church where Beatrice - Dante's secret love - had once married another. By the Florentines it was simply called the Dante- casa and today houses his museum. And not far from that was the house Michelangelo had once bought for his family, and that was also remodelled as his museum with lots of his early works. Tourists sauntered along, eyeing the houses, reading the stone plates inscribed with the parts of Dante's Divina Commedia, or halted under a wrought-iron balcony, whose flowerpots eked out a dried and miserable existence.

Luca saw their unease. This place made even the brightest day seem murky. Or romantic. It depended upon the point of the view. Today Luca decided to think it romantic - and just the thing to put him into the times of the early renaissance, when Masolino and Masaccio had used this path to get to the church of Santa Croce. The rough cobble stoned pavement seemed to be eternally wet. Moist and smooth, full of horse dung and trampled straw, smeared with the remains of vegetables, urine- and sewage-puddles, gathering in the gutter in the middle of it. Cats vanished into the houses' entrance gates.

Rosso's sneezing catapulted him back into reality. "Here we are", he said, turning into another street that was fortuneately bright. "Enzio Celli & Figli" was painted over the doorway in large, old fashioned letters. Luca followed his friend through the entrance, passing the saleroom where a carrot-red-haired lad winked at Rosso, into the workshop of his uncle. It wasn't exactly bright in there, and Luca could only make out the shadows of all the bags and etuis, girdles and belts hanging from the ceiling or from hooks that were spread along the walls. He breathed in deeply the good scent of the leather. Rosso was doing the same beside him and smiled. "Zio, this is Luca, you remember him?"

Enzio Celli turned upon his piano-stool and peered over his half moon glasses. His grey hair stood on end over his forehead and his skin seemed as tanned as the leather he was working. "Ah, ciao Luca. I haven't seen you for a while. How are you doing?"

"Well, fine, Signore Celli. Um, I have a favour to ask. Would you be so kind as to have a look at this?" He stretched out the book, still wrapped in his handkerchief. "I've had a mishap with a cup of coffee. The problem is, this is not my book and the owner will kill me if he sees it. You understand?"

Enzio took the book and pulled back the cloth. He took in a sharp breath. "Jesus Maria", he whispered. Luca thought it was because of the bad condition of the leather binding. "This is very old, ragazzo. Where did you get it from?"

"Well, as I said, it's from a friend." Luca eyed the book jealously at the same time as eyeing Rosso's uncle who had stood up, searching for a magnifying glass. He mumbled something while his narrow, bent nose almost touched the diary. The nose went along each of the scars and cracks of the old leather, including the nasty, dark coffee blotches and the swollen, torn, dangling pieces. He sniffed at them. "Must be early fifteenth century. By the Holy Face of Lucca - where did you get it from!?" Enzio's voice had become eager.

"I know it's old, signore. Can you repair it?"

Enzio swayed his big head from side to side. "Might be difficult. But I'm sure I can provide matching leather." His green eyes sparkled knowingly. "We are in Florence, ragazzo. Everything should be possible here." He turned to the book again. "And this here?" His long, slender finger touched the ripped and partly blurred pages of the diary. "What are we going to do with this? I'd like to show it to my brother who knows about old paper." Enzio looked sharply at Rosso. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in the paper shop?"

Rosso sneezed as answer. "Don't feel too well."

"Then march off to bed. What are you standing her for, polluting my workshop with your bacteria, eh?"

Rosso pouted and this never missed its effect on his uncle. He smiled mildly. "All right, ragazzi, up for a cappuccino? Antonio!" he shouted into the shop. "Would you be so kind - three cappuccini? No, add one for you."

A muffled cry came from the front shop and shortly after they heard the coffee machine gargling. Enzio took the book and placed it upon an ancient looking table, not before putting a clear sheet of paper under it. "Let's have a closer look", he said, but he was interrupted by a flock of loud chatting Japanese in the saleroom. At least Luca recognized the funny language as very Asian. Enzio hurried in and helped Antonio with the tourists.

Rosso and Luca looked at each other. "So, this is Alessandro's book, and he doesn't want to give it away. Well, why should he? I'm sure it's been in the Gondi's family property for a long time, right?"

Luca nodded and fought with himself not to reveal to his friend its real meaning. And what would happen, if he ever told the true story of the unsolved riddle of Masaccio's whereabouts.

Antonio appeared with a tray of cups and biscuits upon the saucers. Luca knew him as Rosso's cousin with the same red hair in different kind of shades that all the Celli's had. He didn't listen to their family chatter - interrupted by Rosso's sneezing and snorting. Instead of he tried to sort his thoughts. Alessandro must be up by now and he wouldn't be pleased that Luca had left him without their usual early morning dally. Involuntarily Luca grinned.

"Now", Enzio had returned, taking his seat at the table again, inspecting the brittle pages. "What ancient handwriting", he mumbled, slurping his coffee. "Tried to decipher it?"

Luca hesitated for a brief moment. "Tried yes, but not successfully", he lied. Perhaps Enzio wouldn't be able to read it. Again the older man pulled out his magnifying glass and examined the letters. "Hm. Seems to be some sort of a diary. Here's something about Budapest. That's Hungary, isn't it? And here's the date: January 1429." He whistled through his teeth. "As I said, early fifteenth century." He looked up. "Alright, Luca. Leave the book to me and I'll see what I can do. You mustn't be afraid about the leather. We'll find the matching colour, and I'll tan it until it looks ancient. I promise. About the paper.... I'm not that sure. It's still a bit damp. It needs a professional drying."

Luca looked worried. Could he leave the book here? Enzio smiled at him and patted his arm. "You must trust me her, ragazzo."

Luca nodded finally. "Good. I'm very thankful. And... we'll talk about money then. When shall I come back?"

"Money?" Enzio Celli's face had clouded over. "Do you want to insult me? This is a challenge I've waited for too long."

Rosso and Antonio grinned.

"You return next week and I'll be able to tell you more, d'accordo?"

*

"Fine", Rosso said, when they were out of the shop. "What are we going to do now? Have you heard from Tris? When does your workshop open again, by the way?"

"Next Monday. The last thing I heard from Tris was that he was alternatively trying to call his policeman or to see the call-boy again."

Rosso laughed. "My poor ass. There sleeping dogs awake, eh? Have you told him to be careful? I mean, in all ways."

Luca nodded. "Sure. Hopefully he'll keep his senses when it comes to the hot action." At the same moment he remembered that he and Sandro had unprotected sex too lately and he swallowed dryly.

"Well, I'm off to the shop", Rosso said. "Call me if you have any news. What will you do if Sandro wants to see the book?"

Luca shrugged. "I don't know, mate. Divert him the best I can."

Rosso grinned and gave him a smack on the shoulder. Wiping his nose he went away and waved with his handkerchief.

Luca stood forlorn. He was very thankful for Rosso and his uncle, and perhaps they would be able to repair the disaster. Although - of course Sandro would notice. But then the damage would be repaired and he would forgive him. After all it had brought something good. He had found the missing pages and as far as he had understood Masolino's scribbling, the secret was solved. What to do now? How could he tell Alessandro about it without giving away the place where he had found out? Impossible.

Luca stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans jacket and walked along, back to the narrow main street, seeing the queue that had already been built by waiting tourists in front of Michelangelo's house. Aimlessly he walked on, his head bent while his thoughts somersaulted without finding a way out of his dilemma.

He drifted between the alleys and streets, then encircled the quadratic bulk of Or San Michele - once a granary, later remodelled as church since inside was a miracle-working picture of the Madonna. On all four sides the best Artists of Florence had created statues of holy men, as commission works of Florence's guilds.

Luca remained in front of Donatello's "Saint George", standing upright in his niche in the wall, stubborn against wind and weather, holding his shield protectively against his thighs. Had Maestro Donatello ever learnt the truth about the whereabouts of his young contemporary Masaccio? Masolino, by all means, had fled to Budapest - as the date said in his diary.

Luca drew a wide circle through Via Lamberti, coming briefly to a halt in front of the 'Tabasco Bar' and he remembered his first time there with Sandro. Perhaps he should go out with Tristano again to take his mind off things. In a couple of days Sandro would return to Pisa and if Luca could survive the days until then without Sandro asking for his diary... A bit more confident he moved on, bought vegetables and fruit in the next alimentari and then crossed Piazza Signoria where people stood in groups, being informed by their guides about the meaning of this central place in dozens of languages.

For a while Luca watched the spectacle. Suddenly he looked at the place from the point of a non-inhabitant: The huge fountain with the even larger white and naked Neptune, surrounded by green, naked nymphs. To his right was an open loggia with one of his favourite statues - naked Perseus, holding the bloody head of Medusa high in the air - and beside him the round buttocks of a Roman soldier, abducting a woman of the tribes of Sabina.

Luca stared at the white arse. Enticing. In front of him there was the monster of Palazzo Vecchio - the town hall - growing high into the air, brown and defiant and armed with battlements, guarded by the "Melon-squeezer" to its right and Michelangelo's "David" to its left. Naked, beautiful David, a bit dirty from pollution and rain, but upright and ready to protect the Republic. No wonder Florence was a gay metropolis, Luca thought grinning. Naked guys wherever you look....

He draw closer to the entrance of the Town Hall. A glass case had gained his attention. Perhaps there was something important this time. No, just marriage announcements. But wait...

Luca blinked, frozen to the spot. This could only be a mistake. No, it wasn't . There was only one guy with that name living in this town, as well as there was only one Leonora. Leonora? Well, Leoni anyway. Sandro's uncle Arrigo had been quick to arrange whatever it needed to separate his gay nephew from his boy lover. Great. He bet that not even Sandro knew about that. Probably he would be the first to bring the good news. Luca grimaced. He couldn't think it funny. Not anymore. Sandro talked about a quiet marriage with no witnesses other than the ones that were needed, and now this great announcement for the whole of Florence to see. In exactly five days his boyfriend would marry.

Luca crept the short way behind the town hall to Palazzo Gondi, passed through the bronze door and remained in the yard where the date palm sadly had dropped its fronds and the red Ferrari was waiting along with the motorbike. He fought the urge to run away, jump into the car with Alessandro, leaving Florence behind for good. But bravely he moved on into the kitchen where he found his boyfriend, bent over the newspaper with a cup of coffee between his fingers. "Hey", he said. "Had fun with Rosso? What was so important for you to leave me alone in my cold bed, that you favoured the redhead to me, eh?"

Luca placed his bags upon the kitchen table and unpacked them. "Nothing important, really." He examined the zucchini and the fennel, the tomatoes and the herbs. "I'm going to cook", he announced.

"Wow. A recipe from Tris?" Alessandro unpacked the other bag with Sicilian lemons and oranges, figs and maroons. Then he wrapped his arms around Luca and held him tight. "I panicked when you weren't beside me this morning. Have you told Rosso about all the shit that's happened?"

"No. Nobody knows. Except the whole town."

"Huh?"

Luca freed himself from Sandro's embrace. "I've read your marriage announcement at Palazzo Vecchio. Sunday at this time you'll be married. I bet it's in your newspapers too."

Alessandro, suppressing his rising anger, sifted through the newspaper to the final page where it was emblazoned with the letters: "The Prince of the Lilies to marry." Silently he read the article and then turned, as white as the wall. "I'll kill Arrigo."

"Well, that's what you wanted. That's your future, isn't it. Sooner or later it doesn't matter. And if you should ask me again: no, I won't be the witness to your marriage. You must look for someone else." Luca stepped closer. "Do you really think you can make a dope of me in front of all eyes?"

Alessandro flopped upon the chair and closed his eyes. What had he got himself into?

Without another word he vanished to the phone in silence. Luca could hear his clamor from in the kitchen. Angrily he chopped the basil and the parsley, along with a clove of garlic and pine kernels. All the clamor wouldn't help Alessandro, he thought. The step had been taken and there would be no return. Luca was fed up anyway by Sandro's eternal "yes-and-no-I-don't-know- I'm-not-sure-wait-a-while". Sandro never knew what he wanted. He wanted the money one day, then he wanted freedom. And in the end Arrigo's deceitfulness and Alessandro's greed had won. He had stressed that he would do it for both of them. Fine. Luca wiped his hands and chucked the towel into the sink. If he thought that Luca Montori would be a slave in his hands, dying for a few pats and a weekly dinner that Alessandro paid for, he was wrong. The Montori's weren't any less proud than the Gondi's.

The sharp knife chopped the fennel and zucchini like butter. This meal wouldn't be by all means as good as Tristano's but it would be all right. The throw the tagliatelle into the boiling water and the vegetable into hot olive oil. And surprisingly he experienced for the first time the secret of cooking: your cloudy thoughts vanish and you relax and everything has a solution. Luca smiled while he stirred the pasta with one hand and the vegetables with the other. Sandro's screaming had stopped, but he still could hear him talking. A minute later he came through the kitchen door with a red face and furious eyes. Luca held out the cooking spoon with some of the sauce he had made from the vegetables. Sandro stopped short, then he tasted. The angry boiling in his blue eyes gradually vanished.

"You're right, gioia. Let's enjoy the meal. We can't change it anymore."

He pulled out some deep plates. "Will we survive the year?"

"You sound as if we won't see each other anymore", Luca said. His heart pounded as he waited for an answer.

"Of course we will. Leoni will vanish to Fiesole, after the marriage. I'll return to Pisa and continue my study."

"And when the baby is born, what then?"

Alessandro rolled a tagliatelle around his fork but said nothing. He didn't know. He didn't want to think about it. His mind swirled from all the things Arrigo had told him. About the marriage. What there was to arrange before then: invitations, dinner, clothes. At least Alessandro could stop him from arranging the second marriage in the church - probably with padre Castruccio. Pah. He gobbled up the pasta and quenched his thirst with a glass of wine he had pulled out of the fridge.

Luca ate silently and watched him. Alessandro's face was closed, hard and unhappy. He knew there wasn't a way back from this. They left the empty plates where they were and went upstairs to Alessandro's room where they loved each other with a desperate passion.

* * * * *

The next couple of days Luca was busy with helping Alessandro to sort out his needs, the question of clothing and flowers and supported him when Leoni came every day to ask for this and that. Arrigo had sent out invitation cards to all of his business friends and to the families involved. Anastasia had arrived from Fiesole and was staying at the Palazzo Gondi to help the young men. She looked none too happy, but said nothing.

Sunday morning started as bright as a Spring's day. Luca had left Alessandro in front of his mirror, trying on his black velvet-suit with the lace jabot, and had gone home. He couldn't bear it anymore. No way would he be among the other guests at Palazzo Vecchio. Instead he would accompany his family to mass at Santa Croce.

Of course his family knew about the event, but had avoided the subject. But when Clarissa saw her son miserably entering the hall, where they were waiting for Dante to get ready, she couldn't bear it anymore. She pulled Luca aside into the living room, shouted to her husband to go on, and examined Luca from head to toe. He seemed to have matured over the weeks when she hadn't seen too much of him. Still tanned from his holidays, his face was full of sorrow and anger. The brown eyes had a new, determined look, and astonished she realized: her youngest son had grown-up.

She took off her little black hat and put her handbag aside as she took Luca's shoulders and pressed him to her breast. "Ten o'clock, right?" She felt him nodding and then his body shaking from suppressed sobs. She patted his back. "I'm not gonna tell you that we've seen this coming, gioia. That we and them have nothing in common. That they will use you and throw you away when it suits them."

She held him back and peered into his face. "I'm not going to tell you all this because it don't have to be the truth. If he really likes you, there will be a way out. Although...." she swayed her head. "I can't approve of this strange arrangement. Alessandro doesn't love the girl, does he? So, it's not fair. But she's having his baby..."

Luca freed himself. "It's not his. It's all a lie to outsmart the padres from Santa Maria Novella, to get his inheritance. He has to marry and have a son before the Gondi-inheritance will be his."

Clarissa's eyes widened. "That's the deal? Jesus Maria. That's unbelievable. And the girl... does she know?"

"She does."

Clarissa sank into the armchair and made the sign of cross. That moment the door opened and Giano peered into. "Are you coming?" Then his face lit up.

"Luca!" With quick steps he entered the living room and embraced his brother. "I haven't seen you for so long." He looked into Luca's face. "You've changed. And grown", he added grinning. Then his smile fell when he remembered the day. He looked at his mother "You'll be late for mass, Mamma. Go and I'll care for the piccolino."

Clarissa sighed. "All right, boys. I'll make your excuses at church." She stroked Luca's hair as well as Giano's and left her sons alone.

Luca wanted to ask so many things. About Tino and their holidays in Germany, but Giano was showering him with questions, until Luca gave in and told him the whole story. He had to. He couldn't allow himself to lie to his family. It was enough that he had to face his older brothers again and doubtless their nasty comments about a fag going to be married.

*

Alessandro stared at the pompous freschi. The whole, large room of the five hundred was painted wall by wall with motives of Florence's victories over Pisa and Siena. Vasari had done a good job, he thought, busy with not listening to the notary's announcements - who was enthroned behind a monster of table, dressed with a dark fur collar and a red velvet biretta - and his unctuous litany about the importance of matrimony to society. Instead he looked up to the gilt decorated ceiling with paintings, glorifying Cosimo the first. Then he imagined the walls empty and the gold-locked Leonardo da Vinci with his clean red cloak sketching the walls with his version of the battleground of Anghiari while on the other wall Michelangelo - gloomy with his black coat and stockings and his black, wild shock of hair spread the cardboard and pinned it to the wall: his version of the battle at Cascina.

Music sounded and Leoni entered the hall, solemnly guided by her father in a grey suit and top hat, while Leoni was wearing a dream of ivory coloured lace with a meter long train that some flower children carried and tried excited to spread it out neatly.

Michelangelo was alone, absorbed in his painting, filling out the red Sinope-sketches with his colours. Young, muscled soldiers gathering in their camp at the park next to a small river where they had their early morning bath when the signal started - deep sounds of horns, indicating the battle was to start. Leonardo clambered his trestle with the help of his servant Salai, trying out a new kind of fresco painting with glue mixed with colour, until the disaster was perfect. The painting didn't want to dry. Salai lit fires in huge cauldrons to hopefully dry the paint, but instead of the unfinished fresco started flooding down the wall, destroying bit by bit the horses and the soldiers entangled in their fights.

Leoni now stood beside him and smiled at him. Alessandro remained stern. He had avoided looking at the faces behind him: Anastasia with black lace covering her face. Arrigo with his wife and Emilio, the mayor, both in black suits, a self-satisfied grin around their mouths; members of noble families, Leoni's parents, and even Emilio Pucci next to his young boyfriend - they had all gathered to watch his shame. Alessandro lifted his head and slightly shook his brown locks.

"... by virtue of my duty and all rights transferred by the town of Florence, I ask you, Alessandro..."

Alessandro answered with firm voice, not looking at Leoni who promised herself a minute later. Smiling, her father put her hand into his while Alessandro fingered the rings from his breast pocket. The rings Arrigo had provided and paid for. Leoni's fingers trembled.

Leonardo was embittered and waited for Michelangelo's mockery. But the Florentine was an Artist from head to toe and didn't think in the least to mock his competitor. The hall remained empty without decoration because Michelangelo gave up as well.

"You can kiss the bride."

Automatically Alessandro lifted Leoni's veil and pressed his lips upon hers. Shouts of joy wrested from many throats and suddenly both were encircled by people wanting to congratulate them. The signing of the papers was a blur. In all the jumble Alessandro found himself opposite Emilio Pucci who shook his hand, a regretful expression on his face. "I thought you would be true to yourself; to who you are", he whispered.

Leoni at his side, Alessandro left the room, defeated as Leonardo had once been.

Anastasia had prepared a room for Leoni. In no way did she want to lose face by being shunted off by her husband to the Gondi's country house so shortly after the marriage. She had to stay at the palazzo, at least for one night. Somehow Alessandro survived the festivities, held in the restaurant of a hotel. He drank too much and had to be driven home by Arrigo.

Leoni pouted. "I want my wedding night", she said in her little-girl's voice, but Alessandro laughed at her. "All you get is the bed Anastasia made up for you. My room is locked." He raised his finger in front of Leoni's nose. "For good. Capisce?"

Finally alone in his room he phoned Luca. He didn't answer. Alessandro laughed to himself. What do you expect? To spend your wedding night in the arms of your boyfriend?

When he lay naked between the sheets, his head swirling from the alcohol, the dances, the laughing, the chattering, the best wishes, his mobile played its melody. Quickly he grabbed it. "Luca!" he shouted. "Where have you been?"

"Out with Giano. I had to tell him, sorry. I can't take it all by myself."

"That's all right. Will you come over?"

Silence on the other side. "I'll come."

Luca hurried through the deserted night-time streets and he had forbade his mind to think. If he had done, he would never have gone. But now he ran up the gloomy staircase where the dusty, red carpet muffled his footsteps and opened the door to Alessandro's large room which was lit by uncountable candles standing upon the table, the cupboards, even on the floor boards tiny tea-light candles. He blinked. The door to the loggia was open and let in a soft breeze; soft enough not to blow them out.

Alessandro waited in the shadows with nothing more on than his washed out blue jeans, embracing his body like a second skin.

Luca's heart surged. Without thinking he dropped his shirt and kicked off his shoes. The distance was short and yet he thought to cross a mile before he could dig his fingers into Alessandro's locks. He felt cold like a marble statue and so Luca rubbed Alessandro's arms and his fingers until the blood started to pulsate again. "It's my wedding night", Alessandro said with flat voice.

"Where is she?"

"Down in the guest's room." Alessandro stepped back. "Everyone was there. Family, friends, acquaintances. Even Emilio. He was disappointed with me."

"Emilio Pucci?"

"With his boyfriend." Alessandro approached him again, cupping Luca's face between his palms and drew each line with his fingers. "Love me", he said softly almost inaudible. "Tomorrow I'm off."

Luca wondered if Leoni would hear the cries in the night. The heavy panting. The promises. She wouldn't of course. The walls were thick.

The candles were out when he lifted his lids in the morning, entangled with Alessandro's limbs. He was lying half over his boyfriend's body, feeling his naked butt and his own penis fit perfectly into the cleft. He was sore and Alessandro had to be too, but still he felt the urge to continue and never stop. May the morning never dawn.

He nibbled at Alessandro's ear and tickled his nose with his own hair. He felt the heaving breast, the flat stomach and embraced his member with his palm. It jerked and Alessandro's eye lids fluttered. He turned sleepily, smiled and pressed his head against Lucas' hair. "Is it morning already?" he moaned. "My ass is pulp."

Luca laughed his pearly laughter. "Mine too. Well, let's care for it, all right?" He was about to crawl over Alessandro's body to step out of the bed, but Alessandro held him. "Where are you going? I said my ass is pulp, but not this." He guided Luca's hand over his abdomen into his hair and further down. Luca grasped the rising penis and stroked his balls. Then, climbing over Alessandro's body he devoured it whole, while at the same time he felt grabbed by his thighs and his buttocks cupped. He sensed Alessandro's warm breath; his tongue, licking his way into his hole and back along his scrotum to his ball sack.

Luca tried not to bite into Alessandro's cock with sheer lust and instead succumbed to the sensations and his own actions.

Later in the bathroom they cared for each other until they appeared washed, combed and creamed at the kitchen table where Anastasia had already prepared the breakfast. The smell of wafers reminded Luca of home. His mother would worry. But he put the thought aside because Leoni appeared, tired and with dark rings under her eyes. She stood rooted to the spot when she saw Luca sitting next to her husband, sipping coffee and orange juice and chewing at the wafers.

Alessandro gave her a "Good morning", but she hardly answered. Instead she threw a sinister look at Anastasia who sat indifferently, eating like a sparrow.

"You allow this, Anastasia?" she asked, taking a cup and pouring herself coffee. Then she pulled out her box of cigarettes and lit one.

Alessandro took it from her mouth and stubbed it into the ashtray without saying a word. Leoni looked flabbergasted.

"I'm not his mother, Leoni", Anastasia said firmly. "I'm just an employee of the Gondi-house. But you shouldn't smoke, in this point Alessandro is right." Leoni gasped for breath. "Fine. I'm going to live at the Villa at Fiesole, so you better learn to fulfil my wishes, Anastasia. For instance you can pack my things. Now."

Anastasia rose, but Alessandro held her arm. "Stay put and finish your breakfast." And to Leoni he said sharply "If you ever dare to treat Anastasia like a slave you've got a surprise coming. You will listen to her and do what she says, capisce?"

"Pah", Leoni scoffed. "You have nothing to say about it. You fag. Sitting at on wedding morning with your lover without any shame. And where's your ring anyway?"

Alessandro's face was red and Luca saw that he wanted to slap her face. But he restrained himself and said as calmly as possible "Watch your mouth. And make sure you hold to your part of our deal. Otherwise you'll see not a cent of the money."

Luca had stopped eating and searched for Anastasia's eyes. She winked at him soothingly.

A few hours later Leoni stood ready to leave Florence with dozens of suitcases and bags. Alessandro shoved her and Anastasia into a taxi. His own suitcase stood beside his Ferrari.

He pressed a parcel into Luca's hands. "A little present for you so you'll not to feel too lonely." Luca's protested but he hushed him with "Nothing expensive, don't worry." He embraced his body and kissed him for a long time. "See you next weekend, gioia. And take care of the diary. Have you taken it to your home?"

Luca's heart pounded wildly. "Well, yes. But I'll bring it back here if you want."

"Just make sure it's safe, all right?"

Luca nodded. Alessandro stepped into his car and drove through the entrance gate. Luca remained alone with the lonely palm and the motorbike and the whole large palazzo behind him. Then he remembered the parcel in his hand and ripped off the paper. A Discman appeared in shiny silver surface and matching ear phones. And a self burnt CD with all the favourite songs that they had listened in the night.

 

 

 

 

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4

_____________________

 

A knock sounded at Coppo Travisero's office door. A man stepped in, with grey, tousled hair and half-moon glasses upon his nose, just the same as Coppo sometimes wore. "What can I do for you, Signore?"

"Enzio Celli, nice to meet you." He shook Coppo's hand and took the offered seat. "Well, the thing is this." Enzio produced a carefully wrapped book from his bag. "I've been given this for examination and for repair. The leather, you know. I'm a furrier. I've heard the Opificio has a project running, called the Masolino-Masaccio project", he continued, while Coppo carefully took the book and unwrapped it.

"I think I'm at the right place. This book is not mine, but I would like to ask if you could do something with the paper that is partly in a bad condition."

Coppo looked at the leather-binding and found it of exquisite shape, though trimmed as old. When he opened it some loose sheets fluttered out of it.

"The book is a treasure as far as I can see, Signore Travisero. Probably it was written by the painter Masolino da Panicale."

Coppo sharply drew in a breath. "By Masolino you say?" Quickly he calculated the time and looked back at the fancy handwriting, on the first glance unreadable.

"I really stress, it is not my book, but was given to me because a mishap occurred."

"Do you know to whom it belongs?"

"A friend of my nephew's friend."

"Good", Coppo said and conjured up a magnifying glass from his drawer. He leafed through the final page where he had detected some sort of a stamp. It was blotched and blurred and he couldn't make out the inscription. It looked like a coat of arms though. "Are you willing to leave the book with me, Signore?" Coppo asked. "I'll show it my colleagues who will be very excited - IF it was written by Masolino himself."

He rose from his chair and shook Enzio's hand. "Thanks for coming, Signore Celli. I'm very grateful."

"It's me who is grateful." Enzio hinted at a bow. "When may I expect your decision?"

They exchanged visiting cards.

When the furrier had gone, Coppo stared at the book upon his desk top and wanted to embrace the world. If this was the truth it was the most spectacular discovery since the opening of the Medici-graves which had also been just a few month previous.

* * * * *

Alessandro avoided Luca's brother Giano. Whenever he saw him coming along his way Alessandro turned and vanished in the middle of the other students. He didn't want to speak to him, to hear his reproaches about what he had done to his little brother. Luca seemed to have come to terms with having a married boyfriend. And after all - nothing had changed for Alessandro. Not really. He just had to give his state of marriage at the student's office and they wouldn't talk about it.

It was more difficult to explain to Franco why Leoni hadn't returned to continue her studies. He told the truth: Leoni was pregnant and had preferred to stay in Florence. Franco swallowed his tea the wrong way, as they were sitting at the usual student's pub in the university-quarter of Pisa. "Pregnant?" Indignantly he looked at Claudio, sitting dumbfounded at the side, his cup raised in a frozen motion. "Didn't you say you had a go with her?"

"What?" Alessandro stared at Claudio whose cheeks flushed.

"Well, yes", he said meekly. "A couple of times. You didn't want her she said to me", he told Alessandro reproachful.

"And so you played the good Samaritan and jumped into bed with her. Congratulations. She bawled my ears off that the baby was mine!"

"Well, it could be anyone's", Claudio said. "I wasn't the only guy she jumped into bed with. And what's wrong with that?"

Alessandro ruffled his hair. "What's wrong with it? Heavens, have you never thought to use condoms? Or do you belong to the bright crowd of men thinking contraception is women's matter, eh? Ever heard about clap, syphilis, hepatitis, HIV?" He bent forward. "Not to mention PREGNANCY!"

Claudio bent his head. "Stop nagging me, man", he said then. "I know, it's my fault."

"There's always two in it", Franco chimed in. "But you're right, Sandro. It's stupid and dangerous."

Alessandro, almost in a state of hysteria, tried to sort out his thoughts. If this ever came out, the money was gone. Should he offer Claudio money then as the price for his silence? He looked over to the black haired man. Better if he didn't try. If he had learnt one thing it was that you can't buy friendship. Therefore he took a deep breath, emptied his cup of coffee and started to speak. "All right, guys. You were honest to me, now I'm honest with you. This is not the whole story. Leoni is pregnant and she claimed it was mine. Which is ridiculous since I've never slept with her. Well, not in the past three years anyway."

Franco and Claudio looked at each other, but said nothing.

"The reason she claimed she was having a baby from me is that there is a clause to my father's will. I have to be married and with a son before I reach my twenty-first birthday. Otherwise the wealth of the Gondi-house goes to church. That's the simple fact."

"Jesus Christ, why have you never told us?" Franco called out. "You always sort out things by yourself. What do you have friends for?"

Alessandro looked warily at Franco. "I've never had friends. I don't now how to deal with them."

"Speak for instance."

"Yeah. I'm doing it now." Again he took a deep breath and gnawed at the crumbs of bread. "Last Sunday we married." Alessandro heard the ludicrous sound but couldn't help it. He was ashamed, his face flushed. Neither Franco nor Claudio looked at him. Alessandro knew what they were thinking. He was a coward. He was materialistic, put wealth over a happy life with his boyfriend. And they were right.

"Well," Franco started at last. "That's... surprising. You'll get the money when she's given birth to a son? What if she doesn't? What if it's a girl?"

"My uncle said, it's all the same. It should be a child for the Gondi's." Alessandro's voice was small and brittle. "I knew it was a mistake as soon as I exchanged the rings with her and heard the notary blabbering." He choked on a heavy lump building in his throat.

"And where's she now?" Claudio asked.

"Fiesole. We have a villa there."

Franco scratched his head and didn't know what to say. "You're married now?" he repeated disbelieving. "And Luca? Have you broken up?"

Alessandro shook his head and cupped his face. Furtively he wiped tears from his eyelashes. "I'm a complete jerk. But it's the family money. I'm the last offspring. I had to do it."

Franco and Claudio exchanged another look. It was beyond them what was going on in Sandro's head. They had never had anything to do with noble families, nor with their snotty behaviour, with their demands and false sense of honour. Somehow though they understood that Sandro had sort of sold his soul.

Franco put his hand upon Alessandro's arm and pulled it away from his face. "Thanks for telling us, mate. We don't understand exactly but if there was no way out.... I just don't know what will happen in the future. Seriously, I can't imagine you as happy husband, rocking the cradle. Will you continue your study or will you leave when the baby's born?"

"I'll continue, no matter what." Alessandro sounded determined.

* * * * *

Villa Kazar. Luca and Tristano had paid their entrance fee. Luca couldn't suffer it anymore alone at home and he didn't need long to persuade Tris to go out to have some fun. He needed it badly. At home the atmosphere was explosive. He had suffered his brother's bitching without saying a word. He had suffered Enzio Celli's telling him that he needed more time for the repair of Masolino's diary. That was all right though. Sandro wasn't there and couldn't ask about it.

Together they threw themselves into the jumble on the dance floor. He saw some familiar faces, including Luciano, who was familiar to Tristano as well. Tristano had given up ringing Vito, the policeman. Perhaps their paths would cross again, but actually he was looking for Sergio. And there he was in the middle of the centre of attraction - as always. He saw him flirting with guys, then vanishing, re appearing with a smirk on his face. Probably he had done his job in the toilet. Great, Tristano thought disgruntled. You really are so low as to long for a hustler, eh? Even if he called himself 'Call-Boy'. Pah. Wasn't it the same thing? Demonstratively he turned his back on Sergio and bought a drink for himself and Luca.

Together they leaned against the bar. Over the past week Luca hadn't wanted to speak to him, although Tristano of course knew the event of Alessandro's marriage - as did the rest of Florence. From his family he had learnt, that many were very surprised to see the wild guy tamed, but approved of the connection between two old families. It would be to the boy's fortune. Only Tristano thought different, knowing the true story. At least he knew that the prince of the lilies was Luca's boyfriend. Surprisingly Luca never showed how he felt. It must be awful for him, but every outreach of support Tristano was willing to give, bounced off.

"Raniero seems to have kept his mouth shut, don't you think?" Tristano started.

Luca nodded. No carabiniero had showed up at the Montori's to arrest Dante and Marcello. Perhaps they hadn't been involved in the attack at the Cascine, Luca thought in favour of his brothers. Hopefully.

"I never thought that Raniero would have the strength."

"Do you still think your brothers were involved?" Tristano asked in a quiet moment when the music was low. "Have they been nasty to you? I mean... because of ... Alessandro?"

"Sure they have."

At the same moment Tristano felt a hand upon his back, sliding down his waist. "Ciao bello", a voice murmured in his ear. Tristano's skin produced goose bumps as he turned to look straight into Sergio's face. "I hoped to find you since you've never called me. Why haven't you?"

Luca stared at the other guy, taking in his feature. Was this the call-boy? He looked good enough for the job. Luca could imagine dozens of men being besotted by the black, shiny curls falling onto his forehead, the broad shoulders, the narrow waist and the flawless face. Obviously his friend Tristano belonged to them because without any further word he let himself be guided onto the dance floor where he wrapped his arms around Sergio and stared into his eyes, a ridiculous expression on his face.

Luca sighed.

*

As Tristano was shoved into Sergio's flat another lad rose from the sofa, switching off the television. He dropped his silky gown to reveal nothing more than a jock strap that left no question unanswered. He was hard as steel; the fabric couldn't hold the abundance, the glans peering out of the rim. Tristano swallowed hard as at the same time his heart beat pounded in his throat with excitement.

Sergio was nibbling at his neckline from behind while his hands were already busy undressing him. "This's what you dream of, bello, isn't it so? I can read it in your eyes."

Tristano grinned, drunk with wine and adrenaline, with lust and testosterone. He helped Sergio with the undressing while the other guy dimmed the light, approached him. From the corner of his half closed eyes Tristano realized the room was cosy with thick carpets and a light coloured interior, with framed pictures of men in tasteful arrangements.

So, this was the home of a call-boy? The other guy had reached him, and Tristano was lost in his grey eyes under a perfect arch of eye brows - plucked like Sergio's. A slight touch of eye kohl emphasised his lashes, and he was flawlessly tanned. He pressed his lips upon Tristano's - a professional kiss; soft brushes and a searching, knowing tongue.

Sergio's hand meanwhile slid across Tristano's smooth chest, down to his bulging crotch. His hands slipped inside and fondled the growing erection. "This is Alfredo, bello", he whispered into his ear. "He's besotted by sex." Tristano heard a faint grin in his voice, then he opened his eyes wildly, because Alfredo had gone down on him, burying his face in the white cotton of Tristano's briefs, exploring his crotch with his mouth, biting softly into the fabric. Tristano moaned and placed his hand on his head to press him toward him.

Sergio massaged the cheeks of Tristano's arse; then he felt a slight push and together they staggered into the bedroom which was lit by small lamps covered with red clothes. A heavy scent hung in the air, like in an Arabian brothel. Tristano giggled. When had he ever been in an Arabian brothel? When he had been in a brothel anyway? But these two guys were too exciting and they wanted him. Alfredo and Sergio pulled him upon the mattress and soft linen, undressing him completely. Skilful hands, knowing what to do. Palms gliding over his skin from chest to thigh. A firm, experienced grip, but gentle at certain places.

Tristano reached for Alfredo's jock strap, stripping it off his hard, massive member that bounced upward. He crumpled it and threw it aside, then he grasped for the member and took it into his mouth inch by inch as far as he could without gagging. It was clean and well cared for, firm and silky. He sucked intensely, feeling Sergio behind him, sprawled upon the bed, licking enthusiastically Tristano's balls, taking them into his mouth and bouncing them on his tongue. Then he took his cock between his lips and sucked madly.

Tristano's head started to spin. He forgot where he was and what he was doing. He was one quivering bundle of lust with closed eyes when he felt Sergio shoving him into the middle of the bed on his knees Sergio grabbed his cheeks and spread them apart as he buried his face into Tristano's arse. Tristano sucked harder at Alfredo's cock as he felt Sergio's tongue probe his hole. He penetrated his anus and slithered around inside it. Tristano raised his arse high into the air and Sergio followed with his tongue pushing inside harder.

Tristano didn't notice when there was a brief interruption, long enough for Sergio to pull on a condom and grease Tristano's hole, poking a finger inside, sliding his hand along the crack. Then he felt the head of a prick slide up and down, touching his hole and starting to push. Slowly the entire length slid up his arsehole. Tristano's cries were muffled by Alfredo's cock in his mouth, as Sergio started out slowly, pumping in and out of him, bracing himself with his hands on Tristano's cheeks.

The initial pain of Sergio's insertion subsided and it became pleasurable the more he slid inside Tristano. His hard cock bounced in the air when Sergio grabbed it and began jerking it as he fucked him. Tristano tried not to bite Alfredo's hard muscle, who had leaned in to exchange a deep kiss with Sergio. Tristano felt vulnerable and excited at the same time, sandwiched in this position. All three of them were connected in a carnal, sexual circle that went on for hours - Tristano couldn't tell exactly. He had lost the sense for time. The only thing he felt was extremely satisfaction until neither of them could hold back any longer. Tristano felt the warmth of the first stream squirting into his hole while Alfredo exploded into his mouth - a moment later followed by Tristano's streams of white fluid, shooting over Alfredo's belly and legs, the rest landing upon the sheets.

Tristano's shaking legs couldn't hold him anymore; he fell forward, upon Alfredo's thighs, next to his drooling cock. Sergio followed his movement until all three of them lay there in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard. The smell of sex hung in the air, overlaying even the musky, Arabian scent.

Tristano must have been fallen asleep because when he awoke he found Sergio and his friend in a sexual union again. He heard the slap of Sergio's pelvis against Alfredo's arse. His balls swung loosely as Sergio cupped them in his hand and gripped his erect cock tightly. Sergio thrusted harder, jolting the other body with each joust.

Tristano's body was a mass of jellowy flesh as he watched but instantly his sex drive awoke. He crawled under Alfredo's body who was on all fours, and fished for the swinging cock, sucking at it hard. The older man grunted with excitement. Tristano struggled to keep his cock in his mouth and received his second load for that night. Sergio gave a muffled cry, shaking uncontrollably, releasing the energy of his orgasm.

Tristano curled up like a foetus, stroking his own erection, but soon felt Sergio pushing his hand away, taking over the task with his mouth, until Tristano felt the tingly sensation in his body as he finally reached his own orgasm.

When Sergio crawled over Tristano's body he was again sandwiched, though both of them now started to caress Tristano's chest lazily with half closed eyes and a content feeling upon their faces. They were exhausted as well. His ass throbbed. But it felt good. Ready for more. His head sank aside and he slept like a baby until the morning.

*

Luca had remained alone at Villa Kazar and had found another companion: Luciano who was sneaking around him like he once did around Sergio, before he dared to start a conversation. He was at the end of his twenties, looking a bit haggard, but Luca felt comfortable in his presence, above all he didn't try anything except a friendly chat. Even as he spilled the beans, Luca wasn't annoyed. "You're the boyfriend of the prince, right?" Luciano said with a tenor voice Luca had to get used to.

He nodded, sipping at the treated glass of cool wine.

"And how come he got married last Sunday?" Luciano didn't sneak around the pot.

"He had to. But I won't give you the reason. It's a private matter, and doesn't concern the rest of Florence."

Luciano grinned and arched his left eyebrow. "Private matter, eh? The only private matter I can imagine is that the girl is pregnant and her family needs a husband for her. Although I can't imagine what Alessandro has to do with that."

Luca said nothing. What should he say anyway?

"Or is it just the old connection between noble families?" Luciano poked.

"Stop being so nosy", Luca said good-humouredly. "I won't tell you."

"But, you and he... it might be difficult to continue."

Luca shook his head. A group of leather-guys entered Villa Kazar. They were dressed up as walking into a S & M club with leather whips sticking in their back pockets, spiky-rings around their necks and tattooed arms. Luca eyed them and felt instantly uncomfortable.

Villa Kazar was famous for its mixed audience; nobody bothered if people were gay or straight or fetish, but those guys had something menacing about them. Luciano followed his stare and giggled. "Madonna Rossa", he said. "Studio for guys with an off-beat taste."

"Have you been there?" Luca asked.

"No. They don't take positives."

"Huh?"

"Positives. I'm HIV-positive. It wouldn't be clean me squirting blood in all directions."

Luca tore open his eyes. In a flash he remembered that Alessandro once had a go with Luciano. He felt sick.

Luciano examined him carefully. "Don't worry, honey. I know how to protect myself and others." He leaned in. "I didn't do any harm to Alessandro if that's what you fear."

The leather guys had mingled among the dancing pairs, groping after girls and starting a fight with their male dance-partners. Luciano shook his head. "It's better if we're out of here. This looks like there's trouble to come."

As if on the cue, the pushing on the dance-floor became stronger, still drowned out by the music, but loud enough to annoy the audience. They were extracted from the floor by the staff and gathered in a corner where on sofas guys were sitting close together, chattering, laughing, touching and kissing.

Luca decided to follow Luciano when he heard cries at his back. He turned to see the leather crowd dragging guys from the sofa, taking them into headlocks and ripping their clothes. "Shit stabbers are not allowed here", they shouted and Luca was shocked. He hurried after Luciano and reached the exit just in time. He heard more than he saw the fight with the staff and one after the other they were thrown out of the Villa where they came stumbling to a halt. One guy held his whip in his fist and angrily whipped the air. Luca ducked away and ran after Luciano around the corner. Panting and trembling with fear he leaned against the balustrade and stared into the Arno.

Indeed so, Raniero had kept his mouth shut because those guys were still free to continue to pester gays. He saw the silent blue-flashing of lights. Police cars arrived. But the leather guys had fled.

* * * * *

Alessandro was surrounded by open books, laying on his bed and desktop. Bemused he leafed through Alberti's "Della Pittura", trying to find the right parts required for his homework about Botticelli's painting "La Primavera". He stared at a picture of the painting, albeit he had seen it many times before at the Uffizi.

The task was this: "Which author described these figures in his essay: Lukrez, Horaz, Ovid, Seneca, Alberti, Vergil? Please give the reasons in order of your levels of argument. Whose commission was this painting, Lorenzo il Magnifico's or Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco's?"

Alessandro recalled the difficult family relations of the original line of the Medici and the side line. The fact was that Botticelli was influenced by Ovid's Metamorphosis: The warm Spring's wind Zephyr brings nature to bloom. But how did he show it? The virgin nymph Chloris changed into Flora - the Goodness of Spring, while Zephyr was raping her. If one could call it rape. Perhaps Chloris had just succumbed to the greenish-blue appearance of the wind-god, blowing softly on her neck... Alessandro closed his eyes. Flora realized that Zephyr made up his violent conquest in his role as husband. In her marriage bed she hadn't any reason for complaints. Quite the opposite: now she enjoyed eternal Spring, and living at the Villa of her dowry she had a beautiful garden. Everything was green, the trees as well as the meadows because this garden her husband was filling with blooming flowers, and she - Flora - was the mistress over this splendour.

Madonna, this sounded all too familiar. Chloris in her land house - like Leoni in Fiesole. And what did Botticelli want to tell as a consequence? From voluptuousness and chastity beauty was born? But the sexual union was not meant but the taming on a spiritual level. Neither lust nor chastity alone are serving humankind - it is the restraint that does the work. The balance is the deciding factor to becoming beautiful.

Alessandro stared at Flora with her thick belly and ugly face. This was beauty? Perhaps it was, seen from the point of view of a Renaissance-man. Or perhaps the stout Botticelli was just keen on boys and didn't know how to value female beauty. This was an aspect the art historical world hadn't considered. In the end it didn't count.

"The dress clutching her breast tightly,

 

fall freely; glad it is eternal,

 

Golden filigree caress the pair of cheeks,

 

and her neck with eternal desire..."

Alessandro recalled this quote of Michelangelo's poem to La Primavera and scribbled it into his notebook.

Leoni had deserved something better than to vegetate at the villa in Fiesole, he thought, suddenly sad. But it was her choice to go there. She had trapped herself by a mixture of greed and desire and the Gondi's were the stooges to fulfil all this.

He let himself fall upon his back and stretched out his arms.

Once more his inner eye saw Emilio Pucci's face on his wedding day. A disappointed face. "I thought you would be true to yourself. Who you are". That's what he said. Alessandro rubbed his face. He had done it all wrong. If he still was the reckless prince of Florence he would have laughed into Arrigo's face and had done his own thing, i.e. go his own way with Luca and without the money. But he wasn't reckless anymore. Luca had softened him… Tamed him. Alessandro turned the page of his book. There was Botticelli's "Taming of the Centaur by Minerva". That hit the nail on the head. Minerva - goodness of wisdom and the eternal virgin - tamed the wild Centaur, the icon of lust and brutality. So, in this sense Luca was his Minerva. Alessandro grinned involuntarily. Neither he himself was brutal nor his boyfriend without lust, quite the opposite. He carried all the lust a seventeen old boy had to offer.

Alessandro rolled upon his stomach. If he wanted to get finished with his homework he needed help. Perhaps Franco was up for a talk.

* * * * *

"Breakfast!"

Tristano's body jerked. Slowly he entangled his limbs from the bed sheets, peering sleepily with heavy eyes over to the small table. A tray floated against him and was set up upon the bed cover. "Buon giorno, bello", Sergio cooed, looking fresh as a summer's flower, cheeks rosy, his body smelling of soap and faintly of CK "One".

"Buon giorno, bello", another voice sounded. This voice Tristano hadn't heard so far - at least not that he could remember. Alfredo's grey, calm eyes were fastened on him, smiling. "Hurry up with a shower", he said. "We'll keep the eggs warm." He winked.

Tristano blushed crimson. Instead of jumping under the shower he pulled the cover up under his chin and looked like a startled rabbit. Alfredo laughed out loud. It was a good laughter. "I guess we've seen your body before…." He pulled down the bed cover and kissed Tristano's neck. "Avanti. I keep my eggs boiling for you."

Tristano looked at Sergio, sitting grinning at the other side of the bed, spooning his soft egg. 'All right', he thought and scrambled out of bed. His legs wobbled and his head swirled though he straightened his back and strutted straight into the bathroom, at least into the direction of where he assumed the bath to be. "Left", he heard Sergio call from the bedroom.

Light flooded the spacious bathroom and Tristano wondered in which quarter of town he was right now. He couldn't remember. Sighing he sat naked upon the rim of the bathtub, examining the room in total from the silver armatures of tub and separate shower over the soft green tiles to the large mirrors. On shelves he detected strange instruments or objects or toys - he couldn't make them out exactly. One looked like a water hose which was probably used to clean the anus - or so he thought. Tristano put it back and turned on the shower instead. Under the stream of water he came to his senses and the pressure in his head and eyes vanished. He could think clearly again and as he did so a deep crimson redness covered his face and it was not caused by the hot water. 'Tristano d'Astangli, you behaved like the biggest slut on the streets', he whispered to himself. And yet he couldn't stop enjoying the thought. He found a separate tooth brush and used Sergio's or Alfredo's face cream and deodorant and tried to untangle his shock of blond hair. And since he couldn't find his clothes he put on a yellow dressing gown, and was now ready to face the morning.

Alfredo lifted the egg-warmers when Tristano entered the bedroom, now washed by daylight it looked pretty posh with a wall of windows that were open and let in a warm breeze and light grey furniture, highlighted by red chairs and carpet. More paintings hung on the walls, showing men with beautiful bodies and expressive faces. Sergio poured a cup of coffee and made him sit at the little table, offering toast and marmalade, cheese and fruits.

"To be a call-boy seems to be lucrative", Tristano said.

"It depends on your clients", Sergio said. "So, we can afford a little private fun from time to time."

Tristano stared at them both. "Does that mean you don't want money from me?"

Sergio and Alfredo laughed. "Money? No, bello. You're much too beautiful for us to demand money from you for the fun."

Tristano hid his blush by emptying his cup. 'Beautiful?' he thought.

“You did enjoy last night, didn't you? Could you imagine doing it more often? Or professionally?"

"Huh?" Tristano choked on his bite of banana. Again he blushed as he imagined the banana to be Alfredo's tool that he had sucked on. "What do you mean 'professionally'?

"Just a suggestion, bello", Sergio soothed him. "You know, in our profession you have to love what you do. Otherwise you'll end up as hustler at the railway station behind Santa Maria Novella. Just think of all the money you'd get because you do something you're besotted with." He winked at his friend.

"Are you both … is he your boyfriend?" Tristano asked.

Alfredo looked astonished. "Am I your boyfriend, Santino, eh?" He shrugged. "More like business-partner and sharer of the same preferences."

Tristano finished his toast and a second cup of coffee. He felt the silky surface of the dressing gown. Surreptitiously he looked at the soft carpet and the over large bed that had room for four guys. He looked at the two exceedingly well-cared for call-boys. Then he thought about Luca. His stomach hurt. "Aren't you afraid?" he said. "I mean, you obviously greet customers here; what if they murder you? Think about what happened at Cascine." His look touched Sergio's arm where the plaster had been.

Sergio shrugged. "Occupational hazard." But a small flicker in his black-burning eyes told Tristano that he had hit a sensitive spot. He saw him sharing a look with Alfredo who bent over to him and whispered into his ear "ready for a morning fuck … bello?"

Alfredo wore nothing under his jeans and Tristano was easily persuaded to succumb once more to experienced hands and mouths and cocks, knowing what they did. He neither realized that his mobile rang in his jeans pockets, strewn somewhere in the flat nor the time in general.

When he was driven home that evening he was sure he would meet them again. Just for fun - of course. There was nothing wrong with having fun, was there? Extremely tired though satisfied he ran water into his bath tub and sank into the perfumed foam. Had he thought that being hustler and being call-boy was all the same? It certainly wasn't. Sergio and Alfredo were rich and they shared the same passion. Tristano didn't realize that they were selling their bodies and with them each time a little bit of their souls too. How could he have ever thought that Sergio was shallow, just because he didn't talk much but rather let his abilities speak for him.

"Hmmmm", Tristano moaned as his water-lapped penis rose in anticipation. Imagine all the fun if you have a boyfriend of your own, he thought. Like Luca for instance. You could do with him all those things twenty four hours a day. Wouldn't that be fantastic?

His mobile rang once more and Tristano cursed. Always the wrong time…. he let it ring until his voicemail answered. Half an hour later he checked the caller. It was Luca. He dialled his number immediately and received the fresh news of the attack at Villa Kazar shortly after he had left with Sergio. The news cooled him down and he had a restless night. In the morning he met with Luca in front of the Montori-palazzo for breakfast near Piazzale Michelangelo.

It was the last day of their summer holidays. The shield of heat and sultriness had broken and all that was left was a glassy, pale blue sky with a hint of violet. The first hint of Autumn hung in the dawning air. The laurel-bushes spread their bitter fragrance and the sweet chestnut trees were heavy with hundreds of green, prickly fruits. The red and orange berries of yews and rowan trees peered through the branches as they made their way up the winding road to the Piazzale, passing the rose-garden in full bloom. Occasionally they both came to a halt and turned, enjoying the spectacular view over their hometown. Luca's chest inflated with love when he saw Brunelleschi's red brick stone-cupola hovering ethereal, connected with Giotto's clock tower and the old Badia.

They were the only visitors in the wide Piazzale Michelangelo with the verdigris-copy of his "David". Luckily the town-government had banished the cars and tons of tourist busses that had gathered for years up here. This place was too spectacular to be destroyed by traffic. The souvenir-kiosk was still closed but the restaurant was open with it's attached coffee-house. Actually it had been built as a museum for Michelangelo, but the town never finished it.

Tristano went straight to the stony landing and looked in silence at the Arno deep down and the Ponte Vecchio, one of the many bridges, with its countless superstructions. The big cupola and the coloured campanile. To the left the small, red cupola of San Lorenzo and the high, brown tower of the town hall. Directly opposite amidst the red-white jumble of houses: Santa Croce and on it's right hand the green cupola of the synagogue.

Luca stood beside him, likewise mute. Tristano stretched out his arm and embraced him. Furtively his stroked his back up and down - as much as he could reach under the jeans jacket.

The southern foothills of the Apennine were clad secretively in mist, hovering below Fiesole's, and Florence's weather prophet - Monte Morello - was clear to see. Tristano pointed to the right hand. "Settignano", he said. Above Fiesole a wooded string of hills hid Monte Ceceri and on it's right hand the little mountain village of Settignano appeared, the town where Michelangelo was raised. Where he "had sucked in the love for sculpture with the milk of his nurse".

Tristano smiled lovingly at Luca, while he tucked a strand of unruly hair behind Luca's ear. "Were you afraid?" he asked. "I certainly was lately, at the Cascine. Sergio's arm has healed."

Luca sustained Tristano's dreamy eyes. "And how is he? Did he want money from you?"

"Money? No. They did it just for fun, they said."

"They?"

Tristano made a step forward and embraced his friend. Deeply he breathed in Luca's scent. "Sergio's friend was there", he whispered close to Luca's ear.

"And you…?" Luca's body was washed over by a sudden surge of feverish imagination. "You had both?" He felt Tristano nodding. "Wow. How is it?"

"Great."

Luca raised his brows. It might be, he thought. But I wouldn't share Sandro with another. But this and that might be not the same thing. Sergio wasn't Tris' boyfriend. No feelings were involved. He wrapped his arms tighter around his friend. It was so good to feel him. Memories of their shared night flooded Luca's mind and he didn't try to fight them. Yes, he had been frightened by the attack at the Villa Kazar. Would he ever feel safe again? What if Florence fell back to stone ages concerning homosexuality? Could that be possible? Something in his mind told him no. But if he wasn't able to straighten out his problems at home how would the major citizens straight out that problem when they weren't directly involved? When they hadn't a gay friend to prove to them that homosexuals were as normal as any human around? That they weren't monsters, raping little boys?

He loosened his body from Tristano's and looked directly into his friends radiating, blue eyes. "You're one experience ahead", he said with a thin smile. "Will you see them again? And what did they say about the attacks? Aren't they afraid?"

"Occupational hazard they said. And you? Are you sad about Sandro?"

Luca turned away, so Tristano couldn't see his face. I should be happy, he thought. He's a lucky guy, becoming rich soon. But where am I in his plans?

Tristano turned him gently around and then he approached his face, kissing Luca's lips with soft brushes, then deeply. Luca didn't struggle but reciprocated. He felt soothed and understood. "I want more than a three-some", Tristano whispered when he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Luca's body. "There must be more, don't you think?"

Now Luca struggled out of his arms. "Do you think now that Sandro's gone you can try once more?" His voice was without anger or reproaches. He just wanted to know. "It's true, I feel left alone and neglected and a bit betrayed. But I'll stick with him. I like him too much."

Tristano's eyes were cloudy and sad. "I'm sorry, but I do like you too. Perhaps the day will come where you have to decide. I feel that Alessandro is so far away." His arms fell to his side and he shuffled with his feet. "I don't mean the distance between Pisa and Florence. He's mentally afar." He looked unsure into Luca's eyes and saw a flicker of understanding and agreement.

They said nothing for a long while. Sunbeams absorbed the last of the mist hovering beneath Fiesole and Florence glittered in bright sunlight. Tristano took Luca's hand and walked with him along the short distance, free from the traffic of Viale Galileo, up the stairs to San Salvatore. They sat upon a bench in the sunshine and enjoyed the clear air. 'La Bella Villanella', Luca said softly, turning to the small, yellow washed Franciscan church behind them. "Michelangelo thought it to be the prettiest church in town."

"Are you sure you don't want to become a guide like Alessandro?" Tristano teased him. The seriousness of earlier was banished by the light hearted tone Tristano used. He unpacked his rucksack and produced a silver package. Unwrapping it he offered Luca a Chelsea bun with Nutella and bananas-filling. "Naked Chef", Luca said grinning and bit into it.

"You like it."

"And you are sure you want to work intarsia instead of becoming a chef?"

A prickly sweet chestnut fell to Luca's feet and he picked it up. "Soon it will be winter again", he said.

"And so much has changed in our lives", Tristano added. "Have I told you they asked me to join their profession? Jokingly I hope."

"Who? The call-boys?" Luca asked laughing. "Amazing. But that remains a joke I hope. Do you think you can become rich by doing that?"

Tristano nodded. "If you're good and fulfil all wishes. Though I don't know about that. How many cocks do you think you are able to take each night? I was sore enough as it was."

Luca grinned and bit into the bun. "I've heard you can specialize. Guys search for this and that. Bottom or top, you know."

Tristano's eyes sparkled. "That's a idea to think about. I guess I'd prefer to top then." He winked. "It doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy you."

Redness scurried over Luca's face.

______________________

 

5

______________________

Luca sat with heavy eyes at the kitchen table and breathed in the scent of the hot wafers his mother cooked. Niccolò slurped his chicory-coffee and seemed to be lost in his own dreams. Dante and Marcello were silent as well. Clarissa looked from one to the other. "I thought you'd be happy to be at work again", she said, but just earned questioning looks.

"Indeed so", Niccolò said, rising. "My fingers are pins and needles. About time I felt the stone between them. All right, ragazzi, time to leave", he said, clapping his hands.

"Go on, pappa", Dante said. "We'll take the piccolino."

Niccolò raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He gave Clarissa a brief kiss and was gone.

Later on the streets Luca wondered why his brothers hadn't taken their bicycles but had gone on foot. They had put him between them and occasionally looked at him. Luca carried a heavy bag because he had packed his Lapis Lazuli to show it Coppo. It was about time he did something with it.

"The faggot has finally thought twice", Dante began.

"To fuck with a girl is the best a man can do, don't you think?" He winked at Marcello who grinned. "Admittedly the girl looks pretty starved. Not even tits or anything. She looks rather like a boy." He looked warily at Luca. "How did it feel when you realized that even the little slut Alessandro Gondi got it that faggots are perverted swines and that you have to follow the rules of the normal people? If there's no other way you have to bash it into their brains. I bet it hasn't been the last attack. So, piccolino, you'd better keep away from the abnormal fags in the future."

Luca flinched.

"That blond guy is always with them recently", Marcello said. "What's his name? Tristano? If your name's Tristano you can only be gay." Marcello laughed nastily.

Luca said nothing but he dearly wished that they would arrive at their destination soon, within the next second.

"Why don't you say anything? He has dumped you, right?" Dante started again, nudging his youngest brother. "He has left you to fuck the brains out of the little girl? I've heard she's pregnant." Dante stood his heavy body in front of Luca. "And you?" He lifted Luca's chin.

Luca snapped it away. For a moment a red veil clouded his eye-sight and he started to yell. "Shut up, Dante. What does it concern you? It's not your business at all."

People on their way to work turned their heads to the group on the pavement, close to the Accademia.

"It's not my business?" Dante repeated loud and menacing. "It's not my business? It sure is."

He breathed slowly in and out. Then he said more calmly "It's all right when you went astray, but now you must stop it. We can't have a brother being friends with scum. This is not the right way to live a decent life. We must stick together." He wanted to hug him, but Luca lifted his fists.

"Don't talk to me like that! You don't have eaten wisdom spoon-wise. Mamma and Pappa are on my side. It's my life and you have nothing to say about it."

Dante and Marcello broke out into an unhappy, shrill laughter. "Forget the parents, piccolino. They just try to understand but they never do. It's nothing that can be understood. You belong to us and not to the tainted society squandering our hard-earned money."

With beet red face Luca went to pass them but Dante held his arm. "You heard me. You'll never go to those gay-hangouts, or do you want to end up dying miserably? The faggot-disease has never stopped and it contaminates decent people too."

"Decent people? Like you are?" Luca spat. "Leave me alone."

He freed himself and hurried along into the security of the workshop. Tristano caught up with him at the entrance. He looked into his red face. "What's happened to you?" he asked.

Luca shook his head. His brothers entered the hall, furious like Luca. They saw Tristano standing beside him. Dante stepped to him and hissed. "Go away, fag, leave my brother alone."

Tristano's face was washed over with a surge of blood. They were pushed by workers and apprentices. Then he turned, dragging Luca upstairs.

In the classroom they put their stuff under the table, seated and looked at each other, hands shaking. "I didn't know...", Tristano started.

Luca said nothing until Coppo entered the room. He started the class and for a few hours Luca could forget the incident. It came back with all its power when Coppo released them for their break.

"Go alone, I'm not hungry", Luca said to Tristano, but he wouldn't go either. "I've got a lunch package", he said. But Luca had other plans. "I need to speak to Coppo." When he saw Tristano's disappointed eyes he gave in. "All right, come with me."

They approached their teacher. "Professore, can I have a minute?"

Coppo turned. "Sure, Luca. What's up?"

Luca lifted the bag and produced the wrapped stone. "I have a stone and don't know what to do with it. I thought I could work it into something, later, you know." He lifted the cloth and revealed the Lapis Lazuli. Coppo drew in a sharp breath. "A Lapis Lazuli", he said solemnly. "The stone of Laz, the Babylonian goddess of love..." Coppo's eyes were clouded. "Amazing, Luca. Where did you get it from?"

"It was a gift", Luca said haltingly, looking at his friend.

Coppo looked alternatively into the faces of both lads. "A gift." Then he took the stone and weighed it in his hands.

"There's a crack", Luca continued. "It fell to the ground. Is it bad?"

Coppo followed the crack in the blue stone, tracing the white lines. "The Lapis Lazuli encourages intuition and it was used as aphrodisiac", he started slowly. "encourages fantasy and scares away depression." He looked up. "It fell to the ground, you say?"

"Yes." Luca darted a look at Tristano. "Somebody dropped it by accident. I mean, in a quarrel so to speak."

Coppo nodded. "It is told that a Lapis Lazuli is broken by danger."

"By danger?"

"Yes. It gives a warning to be careful and causes reactions."

Luca didn't know what to think and Tristano didn't understand a word of it. He sensed Luca's unease and decided to leave. Luca probably wanted to have a private word with their teacher.

Teacher and pupil watched him going. "You quarreled with your boyfriend, Luca?"

"Well, yes."

Coppo nodded again. "I can imagine about what." Coppo eyed the young man in front of him. He appeared more mature. He'd grown up during the summer. Tanned from the sun, and a bit marked by sorrow. "The Gondi-lad, right? It was a shock for us when he got married. I thought he wouldn't play on the other team - as you young guys call it, right?" He winked, then he became serious again. "Do you want to talk about it?" He pulled up a chair for Luca and made him sit next to him. Then he pulled out a thermal pot of tea and a package of tramezzini. "Help yourself."

Luca hesitated, then he took one of the breads. He had no one to talk to. At least no one of this age. Grown up. Gay like he himself. Luca started with low voice, not knowing how much he could tell his teacher. "You know, it's not about him playing on which team. He has decided on which one he belongs. The gay team. There were circumstances that made him decide to marry." Greed, he thought and a false sense of honour. Or sentimentality. Or family-liability. No, he couldn't tell Coppo. It was a secret of the Gondi-family that was nobody's business. Luca lifted his head and looked directly into Coppo's grey eyes. "Well, he had to marry and I agreed."

"Really?" Coppo's eyes pierced Luca's. "You agreed? If my partner married a woman all of a sudden I would feel very insulted and hurt. It would be a breach of trust to me. Didn't you feel the same?"

Luca looked away. Of course he'd felt the same. But still the bond between him and Alessandro hadn't been that strong to feel THAT hurt. They hadn't promised each other anything and they weren't partners. And in some way Luca understood the liability Alessandro felt concerning his family.

"Sort of", he said evasively. "Well, what can I do with the stone?"

Coppo sensed that Luca didn't want to talk about Alessandro Gondi and dropped the subject. "I'm afraid we'll have to break the stone in two, Luca. But it is too big anyway. Have you any ideas what to carve from it?"

"A lizard", Luca said instantly. "With a winding tail and green eyes."

"Ah, a lizard", Coppo smirked. And with that he realized that Luca Montori's affection for Alessandro Gondi was stronger than the lad knew.

"All right. Let's see what we can do. We'll have it cut here, you see?" Coppo showed him the line. "Then you'll have to make a clay model of the figure you want to carve. You think you can do it?"

Luca nodded.

"It will need to be the right size. About that." Coppo took a sheet of paper and put the stone upon it, with a pencil he draw a line around it. Then he took half of it away. "That's the area you'll have. The clay model of the lizard must fit exactly. Then you draw a natural copy and take the measurement by a divisor and transfer it point by point onto the stone. If you like we can do it together, here, after school. You want to?"

Luca nodded vehemently. "That would be great", he said. 'And it will keep me busy and out of the house.'

* * * * *

Tristano visited Sergio and Alfredo almost every day whenever they had time for him. Somehow he didn't care that both, had hardly finished with their customers, as they gave him their whole attention - as long as they didn't make him feel they had just now satisfied another guy, no matter if it was both together or alone. Tristano wouldn't have known otherwise what to do with his woken and pent-up libido. Luca wanted him; he had sensed it well, but he wouldn't cheat on Alessandro. And to pick up somebody strange at the hangouts Tristano didn't want that at all. So, again he unlocked the door to the flat - Sergio had given him a key - and heard the water rushing in the bathroom. At least someone was at home.

He sauntered through the flat - living room, bedrooms, two separate rooms, occupied by Sergio and Alfredo, because despite all their common interests, they weren't a couple. Tristano examined the large, framed poster on the walls, showing half-naked men with great bodies. A bum peered out here, and there biceps and a six-pack. And somewhere in the darkness an erect penis.

"Ah, Tris. I didn't hear you". Alfredo had only wrapped a bath towel around his hips and peered with wet hair around the corner. "Can you give me a hand? My balls need a shave urgently." He pulled him into the bathroom and pressed a wet shaver into his hand. Until now Tristano had only been witness to the act. "Here, take this." Alfredo sprayed shaving foam into his palm and smeared his balls.

Tristano crouched down and started cautiously to scratch away the foam. "Careful, amore", With spread legs Alfredo sat upon the rim of the bathtub and looked down. "You've had a good day?" he asked. Tristano wondered how he could talk about daily matters when someone was busy with his balls... not to mention how he was able not to get hard at all. He pushed aside Alfredo's massive member and wiped off foam and shaven hairs with a towel.

"You don't want to hear about the daily grind, do you?" Tristano said, looking up, winking. "Or about my useless tries to get Luca into bed. Turn around."

Alfredo did and supported himself with his arms upon the tub's rim, pushing out his arse cheeks. Tristano spread them and wet the razor. Very cautiously he slid into the crack. "What actually am I doing here?" he asked. "There's no sign of hair in your crack." Alfredo wriggled his ass, and Tristano couldn't help it. He had to bite into the melons and then he slid his tongue into the cleft, washing Alfredo's hole, until it jerked and fluttered with excitement. Alfredo turned and held his member under Tristano's nose. "You tried to get this Luca-whoever into your bed? Is he pretty?" His palm embraced his cock and rubbed it up and down.

Tristano rose and stripped naked. "Do I need a shave too?" Alfredo examined him, from the smooth-shaven armpits over the hairless chest and belly to the trimmed pubic hair. "Well done, amore." He beckoned Tristano to follow, which he all too willingly did, sat upon the freshly made bed, tore open the plastic of a condom and gave it Tristano. "Now to our daily exercises", Alfredo said, his grey eyes sparkling from lust and wantonness. Tristano playfully rolled his eyes, but he took the rim of the condom and blew into it until the slightly bulging end appeared, then he put it into his mouth, bent over and tried to roll it over Alfredo's cock with his mouth and tongue. This time he was better than before.

Alfredo had stretched out upon the bed, arms spread eagled, enjoying the action with little lustful moans while Tris was sucking his fresh shaven balls, rolling them upon his tongue. "You're much too fat to do it with my mouth alone", Tristano complained a minute later, and finished the job with his hand, rolling the condom completely over Alfredo's cock. He wished it wasn't there because he loved nothing more than to snail his tongue around the rim, the head and into the small slit, tasting the precum. "Don't complain, amore", Alfredo had risen, pulling Tristano into his lap and started to kiss him. He fondled Tristano's erection, firmly stroked his inner thighs, spread his legs and caressed his testicles and the path behind, stretching his hole with two fingers. "You didn't tell me if he's pretty", he murmured.

Tristano sensed the greasy fingers and he opened his legs wide, then let himself being pulled higher until he sat upon Alfredo's thighs, his cock lined up with his anus. He let himself sink over the erect spear, dipped the head, let it out and dipped again and with it each time taking a bit more of the shaft until he was stretched without feeling pain. Alfredo pinched his nipples, roamed around his chest and bit gently into Tristano's neck. Tristano shuddered and goose bumps covered his skin. "He sure is pretty", he whispered, leaning back against Alfredo's shoulder.

"And you still fancy him?" Alfredo said, moving his hips forward in a steady, slow-motion rhythm that drove Tristano wild because he had instantly found the right spot and his large, massive tool permanently stroked his prostrate. Tristano's cock jerked without being touched. Both had missed the door opening, but when a wet, pliable tongue started to lick at Tristano's member, he tore open his eyes to see Sergio, crouched on the carpet, his head buried into Tristano's abdomen, swallowing his tool, deep-throating until he released it and sucked only the crown. Tristano squirted instantly into Sergio's mouth and gave a long moan, muffled by Sergio's lips, sharing the taste and fluid. Sergio's mouth wandered along his cheek to his ear, down his neck, leaving a wet trail on his pecs, gnawing at his nipples and back up to meet Alfredo's mouth, who fondled Tristano's spent penis, making it rise again.

Luca was fading from Tristano's mind, at least for the next half of an hour - exactly the time he needed to wake up from his sexual frenzy. He found himself still speared from behind by Alfredo's cock, who now spooned with him and Sergio, spooning Alfredo, and probably fucking him to get his share. At least Tristano sensed Alfredo's body shaking rhythmically, to make sure that he hadn't lost his erection and fucked Tristano as well - involuntary - his hands roaming Tristano's chest and groped his half-hard cock to caress it lazily. Rocked by this gentle, steady movement Tristano almost fell asleep, until the craziness returned.

"Will you join us at the gym?", Sergio asked later, when their heartbeats had become normal and they had untangled their limbs though they were still laying close together on the bed. Sergio traced Tristano's features with his fingertips. "Not that you'd need it, amore. But here and there a bit of muscle can't do any harm." He grinned cheekily into Tristano's face, revealing stark white, regular teeth. His dark-tanned face was without any flaws or wrinkles, like the rest of his skin. He was much too beautiful to be human, Tristano thought. He was just for fun. Still Luca hung in a shaded corner of his heart and didn't want to go away. All the sex he received from the call-boys he would gladly exchange for the bonds of love with Luca.

"All right", he said. Why should he go home alone?

* * * * *

"Wisdom subdues unchastity and lust? You think that's true?" Luca had bent over Alessandro's book with the picture of Botticelli's "Minerva and the Centaur".

"It's not my opinion but Botticelli's. You know the saying 'stupid people fuck well'."

"Then you must be VERY stupid", Luca smirked.

Alessandro had done everything for Luca. Saturday belonged to Luca exclusively, as well as the whole of Sunday. Alessandro had packed him into his Ferrari and drove with him to the sea. It was too cool to go swimming though warm enough to sit on the sand at the deserted beach.

"Have you heard from Leoni?" Luca asked, playing with the little, white sea shells they had gathered.

"Every day. Every fucking day", Alessandro said slowly and without emotion. "She complains about her sickness, about her swollen legs, about how fat she's become and that Anastasia hides her cigarettes and the alcohol. She wants to see me every weekend and screams at me when I don't want to go visit her." Indifferently Alessandro stared at the line of the horizon and let sand trickle from one hand into the other.

Luca looked at him from aside. All this he had to thank himself for. Wasn't it so? "Where did you hide your ring?" he asked, completely out of place.

Alessandro locked eyes with him. "You still can't forgive me, right?"

"Not really. She's carrying your ring, your name, and perhaps..."

"... my baby?"

They measured each other with looks. Luca wanted to believe him desperately. And yet the doubts remained.

"Why can't you simply believe me? I really did everything to explain it and you don't really have any proof that Leoni and I... that's old chestnuts. Just because we crept together into bed in earlier times, it doesn't mean we still do. Or again. Why would I anyway? I have you." Alessandro dropped the sand and pulled Luca tightly to his body. Luca struggled. "It's not about that. I... I don't know what's wrong with me. I want to believe you. I do. Somehow. But then I think it would had spared us a lot of trouble if you hadn't done it." He took a deep breath and guided his view to the sea again. "Why do you have to be rich at any price? One can live without having millions."

"You don't want to understand me. I've always been rich. And I don't see why the money should go up in smoke just because I've been too stubborn, or too noble. It hasn't changed things much for us."

"You should have done it for me", Luca said quietly.

"For you? Damn it, I married for you!" Alessandro jumped up in a sudden outburst. "For you I accepted everything. All the stares and whispering behind my back. Even the disdain of Emilio Pucci! What's your problem exactly? You small people always disdained us because we're rich and do what we want. We can buy what we want and don't give a fart about the opinions of others. And because you people can't be like us, we hear every day how bad we are, how arrogant and condescending!"

Luca had jumped up too, his face red. "You don't give a fart about my opinion? Right, that's what my brothers warned me about. You and your noble, old-fashioned, snotty opinion about the working class. The popolo minuto! Good enough to be a dogsbody to make your life bright and safe and above all: rich!" He turned his back and started to walk away. He stumbled over roots and banks of seaweed and his foot sank into a waterhole near the shore. Nonetheless he walked on, his eyes brimming with tears.

Then he felt himself being harshly turned around. Alessandro stared sinisterly. "Don't you dare run away, Luca Montori. Nobody turns his back on me and leaves me standing", he hissed. Luca pushed him away. "Oh, your nobility won't take it, eh? But there are other people who have a mind of their own. Like me for instance." He took a step forward. The wind was tugging at his hair. "Did you never have the idea that I could feel hurt or betrayed? How would you feel if your boyfriend married a woman? Can't you even see the absurdity? Surely everybody's laughing at you, the poor, gay ass condemned to fuck with a girl because his family tradition wants it that way. Because he has sold his soul and life for gold!"

Alessandro gripped Luca's shoulders and shook him. "What are you saying here? That's the way I am. The guy you've fallen in love with, remember? I was always this way right from the start. Why do you start to complain now? It's too late for complaints. You agreed. You never said, don't do it, Alessandro! No, you were as unsure as I was. Perhaps I waited for a clear comment. For a plea. But it was too convenient for you not to open your mouth because you thought where there's money there's money enough for two. You never cared about my soul, so stop doing so now."

"Jesus Christ." Luca shook his head and looked away from the fiery, blue-sparkling eyes. Alessandro was right. And Luca was right. Pointless to quarrel about it now.

They said nothing for a while. Exposed to the ocean's endless roar and the sinking sun, glittering upon the endless rolling waves, there was one thing that remained: breathing. This was the first, serious test. The blue stone hadn't cracked in vain - just as Coppo Travisero had pronounced it. But they both hadn't understood the warning.

"When this horror is over we'll go away", Alessandro said.

"Go away? Where to? I thought you wanted to study. Or don't you want it anymore because then you'll be rich?"

Alessandro's face was closed again. "Stop that irony, Luca. Either you want me or you don't want me. But if you decide in my favour you'll have to go my way."

Roar. Waves, licking at Luca's shoes. He thought the world ended beyond the horizon. That there was nothing. But there was something. Beyond the horizon. You only have to dare and see. Give it a chance. Like Columbus' Santa Maria sailing to unknown destinations.

Luca turned and a thin smile played on the corner of his lips. "All right. I'll go your way with one condition: we meet halfway. Me on my way and you on yours. Deal?"

Alessandro broke into laughter. "Deal."

* * * * *

A couple of days later Luca smoothed the red clay model of his lizard. It had the right length to match the stone, at least he hoped so. Tomorrow he would take it and show it to Coppo. The small animal's tail was nicely wound. Luca only had difficulties with the feet and claws, but his teacher would surely help. He supported his chin with his palm and looked out of the loggia's open windows. Luca had brought his utensils to Palazzo Gondi because he didn't want his brothers to know what he was doing.

He was startled when his mobile played its melody.

"Why did you do it?" Alessandro asked as soon as Luca had taken the call. Confused he wrinkled his forehead. "Do what?"

"Show Masolino's diary to another person. I told you, you mustn't!"

Luca's stomach cramped painfully. What had Rosso's uncle done with it? And how did Sandro have knowledge about it?

"Luca? You still there? I can't believe you did something like that to me. You knew how much the book meant to me. It was our secret and you've given it away. What did you hope to achieve by it? Please explain to me."

Alessandro's voice sounded cool through the loudspeaker and Luca's thoughts somersaulted. Where to begin? "How do you know about it? And I don't understand what's happened anyway." He paused and listened, but Alessandro said nothing. He heard him breathing. Luca started a walk through the large room, from one corner to the other. "Well, it started with an accident. I spilled coffee over the book."

Silence.

"Sandro?"

"When?"

"Two weeks ago. Before your marriage; while you was sleeping, plastered."

"And you didn't tell me right away? What happened to the book? Was it destroyed?"

"Of course not. It's just a little damaged. How do you know about it anyway?"

"It's all over the place in "La Nazione". I do read the Florentine newspaper. "Extraordinarily finding -- full stop -- Gothic painter Masolino da Panicale's secret diary discovered -- full stop -- Sensational revelations -- full stop." Shall I continue?"

Luca's head swirled. He couldn't imagine Rosso's uncle being so underhand that he hadn't informed Luca about his intentions. He wanted to show the book to his brother or so Luca thought who was a paper-specialist. And what happened then for God's sake? Luca was shaking. He sensed, Alessandro was pissed off. "I'm so sorry, Sandro. I don't know how this could have happened. Listen, Rosso's uncle has this leather factory and I took it to him because the leather binding was torn and falling from the wooden cover. The paper had it bad too. So..." He breathed in and out. "I never told Signore Celli that the book was yours. He promised to do what he could. But whenever I asked him he said it was still being worked on."

"Now the museum wants to have it, right? It will never be our secret again, thanks to you."

Luca was getting angry. "Listen Sandro. I didn't do it on purpose. Something startled me and I spilled the coffee. I just wanted to repair the damage without you knowing. You would have been angry. Well, it's all the same now."

Alessandro sighed at the other side of the line. "That's not what's it about. You should have told me what happened! Did you think I would have cut off your head, eh? Thanks for your trust in me", he said ironically. "And what now?"

"I'll call Signore Celli instantly and ask what happened. I promise. I trusted him too, you know."

"Tomorrow I'm taking the job over. Celli hasn't seen anything yet."

There was a long pause on the phone and Luca feared Sandro would end the call. He didn't. "How's work otherwise?" he asked finally.

"Fine. I've cut my first stone."

"Great. Um, I must go now. Take care. Kisses."

Luca sat dumbfounded and almost squashed his clay model of the lizard. He had prepared a sketch book and pencil to draw the model on paper but he couldn't do it right now. Too much was going on in his head. He stood up and restlessly crossed the room. Then he grabbed his mobile and called Rosso.

___________________

 

6

___________________

Alessandro had come but he didn't waste much time greeting Luca. He just picked him up and followed Luca's directions to Enzio Celli's factory. Enzio had been warned in advance by his nephew and so he cut short the furious Gondi.

"Listen, Alessandro. I just wanted to do my best. I couldn't know it was so precious to you. Or that it was precious in any way." He put down his half-moon glasses and pressed the top of his nose. This Gondi-lad sometimes had an aggressive attitude which he couldn't allow. He deserved respect at his age. "I wasn't able to read the strange scribbling, at least not to comprehend what was going on in the book." He paused and sipped the coffee, he had prepared for all of them. "The mayor has insisted in offering this curiosity to Florence's museums." He pulled a face and Alessandro interpreted it the right way. His uncle, the mayor, wanted to appear as patron of the art's, like the principes did in the old days. Pah.

"Sure, it carried the coat of arms of the Gondi's", Alessandro admitted. "But it was mine."

"I don't have to tell you that a finding of this value has to be made available to the public", Enzio objected. "Everyone needs to see it. And I've read that the diary solves a riddle unsolved for centuries."

"And I'm dying to learn it. Do you know anything about it?" He looked at Luca, sitting there like a heap of misfortune. Luca's heart pounded fast in his chest. "I've found the missing sheets of paper", he said subdued.

"What?" Alessandro's face reddened. "Where? How? And what does it say? Where's Masaccio's grave?"

"In Rome. They buried him at the graveyard of San Clemente, without a headstone", Luca said quietly.

Alessandro stared at him. "So I was right!" he managed to say. "I need to read it, where are the missing sheets? Don't say you put them back into the diary."

"I did."

Alessandro shoock his head. "Where's the book now?"

"Still at the Opificio", Enzio said. "I took it to Professore Coppo Travisero."

"Coppo? Isn't he your teacher?"

Luca nodded helplessly. So Coppo was responsible for all this trouble? He couldn't believe it. But then, Coppo was just doing his job. He couldn't know that Luca was the secret owner.

"I repaired the leather binding, if you're interested", Enzio began. "It looks almost like before. But with the paper I needed advise. I remembered the Opificio has a Masolino-Masaccio-project running." He leaned back. "It was exactly the right place to take it."

Alessandro nodded to himself. Yes. The right place to lose his treasure.

"My precious, my precious!" Luca said furiously as they sat in Alessandro's Ferrari again. "You talk like Gollum! A thing of this worth belongs to everyone. It's a world cultural treasure."

Alessandro snorted. "But I found it. And it was our secret. You betrayed me. And you weren't careful and I asked you to be."

"Then you shouldn't have given it to a jerk like me", Luca snapped. He slid to the farthest corner of his seat and stared out on the streets.

Despite it being a Saturday the workshop was open in the mornings and even Coppo was there when they asked the porter. They were guided to the back, through large scientific rooms, exhibits and microscopes, into a room with a large glass box in the middle of it. Devices for black- and infrared lamps hung above it and inside Luca saw the diary, carefully pressed between two glass plates. Coppo, in a white smock, turned, shoving his glasses up over his forehead. Next to him was a guy of his age in casual dresss, peering over his shoulder.

"Luca?" His eyes scurried over the lad next to him. "Alessandro Gondi! What gives us this pleasure? No, wait, I can guess myself." He pointed over to the glass box.

Alessandro nodded. "Buon giorno", he said briefly. "I want to pick up my property."

Coppo blinked while Luca stepped nervously from one foot to the other. He was embarrassed by this scene in front of his teacher. The other guy examined both lads attentively.

Coppo pulled himself together and straightened his back. "This book was given to me by Signore Enzio Celli because it was damaged. We found the coat of arms of your family." He looked at Alessandro. "The mayor was delighted, as he hadn't any clue about this precious treasure his family had carried through the centuries." His grey eyes became a shade darker. "Why did you never report this finding?"

"Because there never was a finding. It belonged to me. Always."

The man next to Coppo put his hand upon Coppo's shoulder. Luca's teacher relaxed. "I haven't introduced you. This is my partner. Bruno Salviati." Bruno gave them a brief smile.

Alessandro addressed him with a brief nod and guided his eyes back to Coppo, waiting. Coppo beckoned them both over to the apparatus, hovering over Masolino's diary, which lay open under the protecting pane of glass Bruno let down the shutters and Coppo turned on the infrared light and directed it over the coat of arms. "Federico di Ser Lapo di Gondi", Coppo read the almost faded inscription. "1530. That was the year of the fall of Florence, besieged by the Spanish and Papal troops. Sometime in that terrible jumble this diary must have been saved and came into the possession of your ancestor."

"And what difference does that make?" Alessandro interrupted him. "It only proves this diary belongs to our family."

Bruno opened the shutters and turned off the red light. "That is true", he said with a pleasant, dark voice, "but are you aware that you've prevented the solution of a riddle, scientists were starving to solve? Especially you, studying art history, should know the meaning of this. You aren't the only one to lay claim to knowledge."

Alessandro stared coolly at him and found him not worth an answer.

Luca cringed inwardly. Alessandro was behaving like a spoilt brat. Coppo though continued single-mindedly, "You know that we have to send a board of inquiry to Rome to find out whether Masolino spoke the truth? If we are lucky we'll find the grave. And if not", he paused, "you have helped us a great deal. Thanks for caring so long for this treasure." Luca seemed to see a hint of a smile in Coppo's eyes.

For a brief moment Alessandro relaxed and felt flattered. Just the way Coppo wanted him to. "It wouldn't be your misfortune", Coppo continued. "Everyone will know whom we have to thank."

Alessandro stared at his book. "Can I see it? I mean..." Luca stepped closer and touched Alessandro's hand. "A last time?"

Instantly Coppo lifted the glass pane and pulled on thin gloves. He took the diary cautiously, but didn't insist Alessandro putting on gloves as well. He needed the bare touch. And anyway, considering the many years it was used by the Gondis it was in astonishingly good condition.

Alessandro took it and leafed through the pages, tenderly touching the sheets and Masolino's fancy handwriting. The final and long missed sheets were careful ly attached. He took it to a chair and sat down to read them.

"and then.... a red veil clouded my eyes. I saw Giovanni's self-contented grin. He was not bothered by the movement of the earth and the increasing, threatening rush behind the chapel's wall, where the pent-up water of the Tiber forced its way to find an exit because the small opening of the Cloaca could not hold the waters anymore. Some of it seeped through the wall near the trodden down ground, lain with marble. Stones started to break loose.

Giovanni grinned cheekily into my face but Tommaso never moved. Still his brother performed his obnoxious movements within my beloved Tommaso. I couldn't suffer it any longer. Tommaso was mine.

Through all the roaring I groped for a tool and finally felt a lump of wood between by fingers. I never heard my desperate cry. Nothing. Everything faded out, except my unbridled anger and scorn. I wanted to wipe Giovanni's grin from his face. I struck out and slipped off and instead hit the back of Tommaso's head. He slumped to the ground.

The roaring increased and exploded into a gush of waters, blasting the chapel's wall. The Tiber washed us out and the ground gave in. Giovanni and I fell deeper and deeper, into the middle of a pulp of mud and rats, branches and human rubbish. Despairingly I tried to hold onto something. Giovanni dragged me deeper. My eyes were glued half shut but I recognized old marble pillars and a church's apse not belonging to the church we were workinged in.

The heavy mud pulled us deeper until we crashed into complete darkness. Only the hole in the ceiling gave a little light.

I'm not sure how long we had been laying there. Giovanni hardly breathed, while I was listening to the whistling in my lungs and tried to move my limpbs. I rolled onto my side and tried to get to my feet. Giovanni moaned and held his skull.

It was a grotto with a vaulted ceiling. On the side walls stony benches were modelled. A stench of death and putrefaction was in the air. In the pale light I recognized a block of marble where Giovanni had hit his head.

Pictures peeled off the stone: a warrior in oriental clothing, a tall cap upon his head and a raven upon his shoulder. He stabbed a mighty bull and his feet crouched a dog, snake and scorpion. And at both his sides two men were placed. Changing light turned them into grotesque faces. I saw a uplifted torch in one hand; the other man held down his torch."

"Cautopates", Alessandro whispered while Luca at his side had sucked in his breath sharply, although he knew the story already. He had sat upon the arm cover and was reading as well, while Coppo and Bruno had withdrawn into a corner, talking with quiet voices.

"I was startled when I heard Giovanni's roaring cry. He banged his fists upon the stony benches. "Tommaso! Where are you?" he shouted up to the opening in the ceiling. Nobody answered. The roaring of the water had subsided and it was gradually growing quiet. Still dazed from the events I roamed the small space between the benches and the marble block. I didn't know the meaning of this image. I wished I could light the stony torches the men were carrying.

"You! It's your fault!", Giovanni shouted and jumped at my throat. "You've killed my brother!"

I pushed him aside, suddenly strong. My whole body was aching and yet I did not care. My eyes had found another gleam of light and had detected a small staircase, partly hidden in mud. I rushed to it like an animal escaping his cage and crept on all fours upwards, followed by Giovanni. A surge of good air greeted us when we reached the upper level. A partly filled church that looked ancient. And another staircase. I don't know how deep we had been under the earth but finally we reached a hidden exit that brought us to new life. Giovanni ran shouting and screaming into the chapel of our disaster. His brother had vanished. The opening, where the Tiber had forced itself into the chapel, had dried, leaving churned up earth. The waters must have taken my Tommaso with it.

Despairingly I sat upon the earth. I smelled my own stench, felt the heaviness of my clothes and my hair hanging all over. I had killed Tommaso. The Tiber had carried him away from me.

Wet with tears I followed Giovanni, who had ran out, following the path to the Tiber.

We found him then, laying half-hidden in the shrubs, close to the water. Mud gargled around his body. Giovanni turned his body and saw his open eyes. Bloody eyes. He did not breath.

I cannot describe how I felt. Giovanni stabbed me with his stares as he lifted his brother and carried him like a child.

At the cemetery of San Clemente we buried him. His grave carries no stone. Only his name will be carved for all times into my heart."

Alessandro's fingers hovered trembling over the final page. "Something good came from you spilling the coffee", he said finally. He closed the book and stroked over the surface. Then he turned to Coppo and Bruno. "Thanks for letting me read it."

Coppo nodded briefly. "The least I could do. From matching Masolino's signing of different paintings we can verify it's his own handwriting. You've made the town of Florence a precious gift, Alessandro. Thank you for that."

Alessandro took Luca's hand and entwined his fingers with his own. "Sorry for snapping at you", he said to the older men.

"The mayor provides money for the expedition to Rome", Coppo continued, approaching the boys.

"The cemetery... is it still there?" Luca asked.

Coppo nodded. "A small one for the priests and priors. It will be a hell of a job. The leader of San Clemente has agreed though." He smiled. "It was a highly interesting read. I guess not everyone will be pleased to find out the true being of those masterful painters. Well, perhaps it will contribute to the understanding that people are what they are." He gave Bruno a tender glance.

"Um, about the place under the earth", Luca asked, "what was it?"

"The Mithreaum beneath San Clemente. Masolino found the gathering place of the believers, probably Roman soldiers. It was discovered in 1861 when the archaeologists examined the church and explored the remains of the church beneath San Clemente and below that the Mithreaum. Apparently Masolino was the first to discover it."

"Do you think the torch bearer and the god upon the cemetery of the Holy Gates is the same?" Alessandro asked.

"You mean the toppled God with the torch? It might be. But the ancient idea of a flame of life that ceases, symbolized by a bent down torch, is omnipotent."

Alessandro turned. He said good-bye, looking over his shoulder and left the room. Luca followed him.

*

"Sunrise- and dawn", Alessandro said. "Mithras' companions. Life and death. First there was the bull stepping out of the moon, seeing the stars. He felt the exciting greatness of the universe that he wanted to possess. And then he saw Mithras, the Persian God, born in a grotto on the 25th of December, and upon his shoulder was the raven."

They had driven up the street a short way passing San Marco to the Giardino dei semplici, the former Medici's botanical garden, one of the first in Europe. They sat upon a bench and enjoyed the rays of the sun upon their faces.

"The bull knew instantly that it was the holy raven of the God Apollo who was sending his message: bull and human have to fight and in the end one of them has to die", Alessandro continued softly. A fight followed, like none of the stars had ever seen. The competitors were equal. And then dog, snake and scorpion came rushing to Mithras' help. The bull knew his fate was sealed.

Mithras honoured the sacrificed bull and thanked the stars for the new created life because from the blood of the bull all good things on earth awoke. Dog and snake lapped the blood and the scorpion bit into the bull's testicles and from its semen the world was created."

"A creation myth", Luca said.

"Right. The Persian version. Well, the scorpion was hurt as well, and his blood became the germ cell of all evil, infecting the world at the same time. Apollo though, in whose name everything happened, provided an opulent victorious dinner and brought his hero up to his own elysium fields. Mithras was now a God himself: the one of the sun, light and of all good things."

Luca could have sat there for ever and listened to Alessandro's tales. He would become a good guide, considering his wide range of knowledge. "Do you think the expedition will find the grave?"

"If they're lucky... perhaps some unclassified bones. Well, in the end it doesn't count. Now we know the story."

He laughed suddenly relieved. "And tonight there's a party. Where do you want to go?"

Instantly Luca flinched. He had enough of partying lately. Every time he wanted to celebrate something happened.

"Party?" he repeated. "Let's have a party of our own", he begged. "I want to be alone with you."

Alessandro wrinkled his forehead. "Well, if you want to. Tell me about your friend Tristano."

"Well, Tris has parties of his own with the hustlers. Last time we went to Villa Kazar, he had hardly left when some leather-jerks caused a fight and were chucked out."

"A fight? The mysterious leather-guys? Were you hurt?"

"No, I fled with Luciano."

Alessandro looked concerned. "You hide more secrets than I thought, gioia. Why did you never tell me? And why is the community suddenly in danger? I take it they attacked gays, right?"

Luca nodded. Alessandro sat broodingly. "You mean no place feels safe anymore? Therefore you don't want to go out, right?"

Luca nodded once more.

"And what are the police saying? Nothing, as usual, right? The problems of this minor community doesn't bother them the least. Great. Well, then we'll have to solve the problems by ourselves. Luciano, you said? Did he keep his filthy hands off of you?"

Luca grinned. "He's nice actually. Did you know he's positive?"

"Everybody knows. He doesn't keeps it secret thankfully."

They wandered through the paths between the beds and exotic herbaceous plants, between low palms and orchids. "What do you mean, solve our problems ourselves? You want to start a fight with them?" Luca asked.

"Why not?"

Luca heard the excited tone in Alessandro's voice. Just the same as when he had spoken about the Calcio in Costume. That match he had won. But could he win another? And what would be the price this time?

Alessandro had finally given in and they had their own celebration. They loved each other in the shine of uncountable candles, and Luca sensed that Alessandro had forgiven him completely. He said nothing about Leoni and her welfare and Luca didn't want to ask in case he disturbed the sensitive mood.

"What happened to Masolino afterwards?" Luca asked, laying on his stomach, his head close to Alessandro's naked shoulder.

"Well, in the train of Cardinal Branda Castiglione he left for Hungary where he apparently wrote down his diary of the unhappy events. Perhaps it was pressuring him too much. I've read in 1435 he followed the cardinal to his hometown in Lombardy, where he painted, with other major Tuscan artists, the frescos in the Collegiate choir, some of the rooms in the Cardinal's palace and, most importantly, a spectacular section of the Baptistery."

"He found another patron so to speak? And perhaps another lover."

"Perhaps. I wonder why Masaccio's brother didn't kill him, fiery as he was." Alessandro turned also onto his stomach and looked into Luca's face. "A pair of fiery brothers, and Masolino in between."

"You think he died from the strike on the head or that he drowned in the Tiber?"

Alessandro shrugged. "What will the people say when they read this? Another one of those faggots."

Luca grinned weakly. "Our town was built by faggots."

"Quite right." Alessandro leaned in and kissed Luca's nose. Then his palm slid along Luca's back and returned as light as a feather. Luca purred.

* * * * *

Over the next two weeks Luca was busy drawing his clay model of the lizard and transferring it onto the stone, Coppo had cut into two halves. He had been at the workshop with the machines, the one his brothers worked in. He couldn't work with the divider alone, so Coppo gladly helped him.

"Hello amore, I've been working at the machines, mind you! My father helped me to cut a minor stone, and then I tried to follow the drawn lines and managed a sort of square, then a triangle and today a circle! Well, it isn't perfect, but I'm mighty proud of myself. :)"

Alessandro took the thin plate of white alabaster that had fallen from the envelope and examined it. It had the form of a triangle and almost perfect shape. He grinned.

"Tris has become completely besotted by those call-boys. He spends every evening with them. One night he dragged me to the hangout where Sergio was performing on stage. It was hot, I can tell you. Apparently Tris wants to pump up like those guys for he goes to the gym. Shall I go with him? Would you like me like Arnie Schwarzenegger, eh?

Masolino's diary will be ceremoniously presented to the public next Saturday morning at the Opificio. Of course you are invited as "founder" of the treasure. Attached is your invitation card. It will be the most important exhibit of the collection. My teacher is proud of you.

Everything's quiet on the homophobic front. At least for now. I haven't heard of other attacks.

Well, that was the news.

I miss you, mille baci,

Luca"

Alessandro took the card and studied it. Well, then, he thought. Farewell to the treasure. It might have found a better place than the dusty drawer. He put the card along with Luca's self cut plate upon his night stand and went out. It was too much of a pleasant October's day to stay in.

Thoughts of Leoni clouded his good mood though. He had received a letter from her, complaining about the state she was in. Slowly her pregnancy was for everyone to see and she suffered from boredom up there in the hills of Fiesole. She complained about her swollen ankles and about the puking every morning that wouldn't subside. As if it was his fault, Alessandro thought, though he felt a little pity for Leoni. Perhaps he would visit her next weekend.

______________________

 

7

_______________________

Thursday evening Tristano returned from the gym where he had gone alone. He had become used to the workout and felt great. Alfredo was already home and worked in the kitchen in his silky dressing gown.

"Sorry, pup, but I have a customer in half an hour. Well, actually two. That's why Sergio's out of the house", he greeted Tris. "Do me the same favour, please."

Tristano was disappointed. "Can I have a shower first, please?" Tristano never showered in the gym because he was still too shy to share it with other guys. Heaven knew what would happen to him when he looked at them.

"Go ahead." Alfredo planted a kiss upon his lips. "If you like you can return later." A grin graced his face. "Or do you want to share the bed with us?"

Tristano's face flushed briefly. "No, thanks." He grabbed his bag and vanished into the bathroom. He didn't hear the doorbell when it rang.

Alfredo opened the door, a bit pissed since it was too early for his clients. Three guys were standing there. Alfredo propped his elbow and said "Hi, sweeties. The deal was for two." He beckoned them into the apartment. "But where there's a place for two, there's a place for three." He went ahead into the living room. "Drink?" He turned to the three guys and froze. The expression on their faces was pure hatred. And then everything happened so quickly, Alfredo hadn't time to cry out.

Tristano padded out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a towel around his head. "Fredo, can I use your lotion?" he shouted into the room. Then he listened. The customers must have already arrived for he heard voices, suppressed cries and heavy panting. He grinned to himself. Something dragged him along to be a secret witness to this frenzy.

But when he entered the bedroom he stood petrified and felt a sudden twinge of nausea rising. Alfredo's upper body was fixed upon the bed, while another guy was pressing his face into the mattress. The guy behind him pressed an abnormous big dildo into Alfredo's anus while the third one stood at the side, giggling senselessly.

Then he saw the movement at the door. "There's another of those fags." He rushed to Tristano, grabbed him by the towel and threw it aside. "Whoohoo", he hooted and planted his fist into Tristano's face. Blood spattered from the corner of Tristano's lips. He tried to run, but the guy was close behind, grabbing him, throwing him to the ground. Another hit. Tristano's head swirled and his sight was blurred. When he saw the guy open his belt and unzip his trousers, he yelled.

An hour later Sergio entered his flat. "Hi sweeties, I'm back", he shouted, but nobody answered him. He rushed into the living room and stumbled over a body, laying on the ground. He switched on the light and gasped. Tristano was laying unconscious, his face swollen from bruises, like his ribs, in a puddle of blood, that had seeped from his anus.

"Jesus Christ", Sergio shouted, bent down to slap Tristano's cheeks. "Fredo? Fredo?!" he jumped up and hastened to the bedroom to find his friend kneeling in front of the bed, a thick candle sticking out of his butthole. He was unconscious as well. Sergio's body trembled. He panicked, not daring to touch him. After a minute of staring he pulled out his mobile and called for the police and ambulance.

"Vittorio del Chiaro", the police officer introduced himself, shaking Sergio's hand. "You found the men?"

Sergio eyed the large officer in his olive green, tight fitting shirt. "Yes", he whispered, completely in a state. Vittorio patted his shoulder while the paramedic was still busy caring for the injured ones. "It looks worse than it is. Sit down, please. I have a few questions."

Sergio stepped first to the bar and poured himself a brandy. He swallowed it down, coughed and sat down, wiping his mouth.

"One of the men is Tristano d'Astangli whom I had the pleasure of meeting before. You remember?"

Sergio looked completely dumbfound.

"At the Cascine last summer. And I dare to say that we've met before, too." A faint twinkle appeared in Vittorio's eyes. "Vito. One of your customers."

Sergio was absolutely embarrassed. The last thing he wanted to have now was a customer who remembered his profession.

"Well, yes. And now?" he squeezed out.

"Do you have a diary where you make a note of your appointments?" Vito asked business-like again.

"No. We co-ordinate our appointments in our heads."

"Good. Do you know about Alfredo's appointments then?"

"Two guys called. No names. It isn't usual to give names when you visit a call-boy." Sergio looked over to the bedroom. "Will they survive?"

"Of course. Though a hospital stay will be necessary. Now, do you have enemies?"

"Enemies?" Sergio laughed hysterically. "You were a witness to what happened at Cascine. You were the one helping to put them under arrest, weren't you."

"Yes. A guy named Raniero Riefoli. He was sentenced to eight months on probation. His conditions include community service in an AIDS-hospital. Doubt that will impress him", Vito grumbled.

"He's free? You idiots have left him running free?" Sergio asked disbelievingly.

"We are the idiots catching the jerks so that the public prosecutor will let them run free", Vito corrected him sternly. "Otherwise I agree with you." He rose. "Wait here a second." He stepped over into the bedroom, where Tristano was being cared for while Alfredo was ready to be transported to hospital. Briefly he touched Tristano's cheek. He was awake, but his eye lids fluttered. "You have pain?" Vito asked.

Tristano shook his head.

Vito exchanged a look with the paramedic. "He's had an injection. We'll need to operate", he whispered.

A vein in Vito's temple started to pulsate, but he tried to smile at Tristano. "Everything will be all right. Tomorrow I'll visit you." He pressed Tristano's hand and went to Sergio again.

"He'll need a surgery", he told him. "Alfredo will be all right more or less, though his wounds needs treatment. I ask you to come to my office tomorrow, here's my card."

Sergio took it, then he bent forward and hid his face. Vito crouched down and took hold of the shaking shoulders. "I'll stay in contact. We'll get them. I promise."

* * * *

"Luca? There's somebody on the phone for you", Clarissa called from the hall. Luca slipped from his chair, glad to flee the constricting tension at the breakfast table he shared with his brothers.

"Pronto?" he said and heard an unfamiliar voice. After a minute he almost dropped the receiver and his knees threatened to give in. Three minutes later he stalked back into the kitchen. His dark eyes were two flames in the middle of paleness. Dante nudged Marcello. At this silent sign Marcello turned the newspaper to the final page and pretended to read. "Wow, have you seen this?" he said to his brother. "Two of those fags have got what they deserve."

"What do they deserve?" Niccolò asked, entering the kitchen. Clarissa's eyebrows had pulled together and some wrinkles appeared around her eyes. Niccolò sat at the table and pulled the newspaper to his side.

"Those fags, Pappa", Marcello said. "Whores. They call themselves call-boys."

Niccolò shot him a look, then he continued reading. "Madonna", he whispered, quickly making the sign of cross. "What is it, dear?" Clarissa asked.

"One of those whores was my friend", Luca erupted. "Tristano, you know him well."

"Tristano, you say?" Clarissa said. Then she examined her youngest son and found him shaking with anger and pain. "What's happened", she asked.

"Yesterday evening two young men were found in their apartment near Santa Trinita, obviously victims of an anti-homosexual attack", Marcello read with glee. "Alfredo D. (24) and Tristano d'A. (18) have been the victims of rape and have sustained serious wounds; several of their genital areas. Tristano d'A. had to have a emergency operation. The co-inhabitant Sergio O. (23) could not give any details of the attack. Alfredo D. and Sergio O. pursue the occupation of call-boys and their clientele is exclusively homosexual. Florence Police department is investigating in the homosexual-milieu."

Clarissa made the sign of cross herself. Then her eyes found Luca. "Tristano? The pretty, blond boy?" she asked.

"Just a fag", Marcello said. The next moment his head flung back. Niccolò had given him a slap and Marcello's cheek instantly reddened. Shocked he glared at his father but he was stared down. "How dare you to laugh about it. Nobody deserves this, capisce? Who do you think you are to say such kind of words to us. You behave like a brute and it's completely unacceptable." He threw a look over the table to Luca. "How do you think Luca feels about this? His friend was hurt by these monsters."

Dante dared to protest. "Pappa, it's just a truccare. You know how they are. Getting a thick candle stick up their arses would certainly make them happy. As fat as they want it. Right?" He turned to Luca. "Am I right?"

"Say that again", Niccolò started. He tried hard not to lose control over Dante's words. "What candle? What do you know about a candle?"

Marcello and Dante exchanged a worried look. "Well, wasn't there something about a candle in the article?"

"No." Niccolò's fingers drummed upon the kitchen table. Luca felt thoroughly sick.

"Dante, Marcello", Niccolò eyed each of his sons. "If you have something to do with this tell me now."

Silence.

"Good. If I should hear that you both lied to me then you aren't my sons anymore."

Luca swallowed empty. Ideas and images whirled in his head. Had they pushed a candle into... He forbade himself to think on.

"Can I visit Tris?" he heard himself asking. "He's woken up."

Niccolò nodded. "I'll make your excuses to Coppo."

Luca jumped up, ran up his room and vomited into the toilet sink. His heart beat fast in his throat. Suddenly he didn't feel safe anymore. He washed out his mouth and brushed his teeth again. Then he was on his way to the hospital Vito had named. Sitting in the bus he constantly thought if it was a betrayal if he reported his brothers to the police.

Luca swallowed hard when he was allowed to enter the ward, finding Tris' stepmother sitting next to the bed with tear-stained eyes. Her make-up had ran down her cheeks. Tristano's cheeks were swollen and on his temple he had nasty bruises. His dull eyes though lit up when he recognized his friend.

Luca smiled at him, then at the woman. "I'm Luca, his friend. Signora d'Astangli?" he asked unsure.

She nodded and rose to shake his hand. "Thanks for coming. A policeman was here to ask questions, but Tris couldn't tell anything for he was too dazed from the surgery." She sobbed and more tears welled up in her eyes. "Can you stay for a while?"

Luca nodded. She looked so tired. Then she took him by the sleeve to a corner and whispered "His family does not know how this could have happened. Tristano was in the flat of a call-boy. You are his friend. Have you any explanation?"

Of course Luca had. But how to tell her? Apparently Tristano had never told his parents. "Well", he started. His eyes were fixed on Tristano who stared bleakly back. "I guess Tristano has to tell you himself. I can't." The hell he would out Tristano. He had become wary. Who knew how she would react?

Signora d'Astangli seemed to be disappointed but didn't insist. "His father is coming in this afternoon", she said when she gave Tristano a cautious peck and vanished through the door.

Luca stood with hanging arms. Only after quite a time later was he able to move and sit upon the chair next to the bed. He'd had enough of visiting his friends in hospitals. First it had been Sandro, then Rosso and now Tristano. And the latter had gotten it worst. He touched his arm, laying upon the white bed cover. A canula stuck into his vein and connected him with the intravenous drip.

"Where's Alfredo?" Tristano whispered finally.

"Alfredo?" Luca repeated. "I don't know. I came as quick as I could. I'll ask the nurse, all right?" They stared at each other and Luca didn't dare to ask the most important question. "Do you have pain", he asked instead and Tristano shook his head. "They patched up my anus", he said hoarsely. Luca flinched. A heat wave rushed through his body. "A candle?" he blurted out.

"Candle?" Tristano blinked. His eyes rolled uncontrollably in their sockets and Luca feared he would pass out. Then his eyes fixed on Luca's face. "Candle. Right. Also."

Luca shivered from cold anger. Candle. Also. "Did you recognize them?"

"No." He hesitated. "I had passed out then, you know."

The door opened and a police officer entered the room. He was large and well built. Over his olive-coloured face scurried a brief smile. He nodded to Luca and took Tristano's hand. "Are you well enough to answer a few questions?" he asked. Luca eyed the man. This was Vito, the guy Tristano had tried to call for so long and who had always been on holiday. What an odd coincidence that Vito had found him then in this condition. And what if Tris never wanted to have anything to do with gays after what had happened to him? What if he returned to his "straight life"? Determinedly Luca interrupted Vito's whispering. "I want to give a statement."

Vittorio's black eyes looked astonished. Then he pulled out his notebook and a pencil and waited.

* * * *

Vito, with two of his colleagues, entered the Opificio delle Pietre Dure. "Please watch the exit", he said to one of them. "You're coming with me." to the other. He beckoned his colleague to follow and took the staircase that led to the work shops. The doors were open and they heard the screech of machines cutting stones.

Vito's colleague grimaced while Vito pulled out his police badge. Together they entered the large room where several men sat, bent over their cutting machines wearing plastic glasses over their eyes and dark blue smocks. He cleared his throat and started to shout, "Who of you are Dante and Marcello Montori?"

Heads flung up and the screeching of the machines gradually subsided. The men stared silently.

"I repeat: Who of you are Dante and Marcello Montori?"

Some heads turned to two man on the left side of the room. Vito followed their stares. Both policemen walked slowly toward the brothers. Dante tore off his plastic glasses. "What do you want?"

Vito showed him his badge. "You need to come with us, Signori. There's the grounds for suspicion that you had something to do with the attack on two young men last Thursday."

Dante jumped up while Marcello sat dumbfounded, unable to move. His face was unreadable while Dante's was distorted with anger. "What?" he shouted. "You dare to accuse me of a crime?"

Vito's muscles flexed and he threw a side glance at his colleague who stood a little behind him, eyeing Marcello. Vito beckoned to Dante. When he didn't move he grasped his upper arm very firmly but Dante struggled. "I had nothing to do with it."

"What's this uproar about?" Niccolò stood in the doorway. He had been working in the room next door. Now, flabbergasted, he examined the two policemen in their blue coloured uniforms. "Dante?" he asked sharply.

"Officer del Chiaro, Signore", Vito introduced himself. "Officer Lanfranco", he nodded to his colleague. "Who are you, please?"

"His father. Are you going to take him with you?"

"Yes, Signore Montori." Lanfranco dragged Marcello from his seat and Vito gave Dante a push.

"Are they under arrest?" Niccolò asked.

"No. They will be questioned." When he passed Niccolò he gave him his business card. Niccolò took it and stood petrified until the rumble upon the staircase had ceased. All eyes were on him.

*

"Dante and Marcello have been taken in custody!" Luca yelled into the little loudspeaker of his mobile phone. "There was an attack on Tris and the call-boys and now they think it was my brothers, though Tris didn't recognize them."

Alessandro, on the other end of the line, wrinkled his forehead and tried to follow Luca's harsh and quick words. "Attack?" he stuttered.

"Yes! Yesterday. Vito arrested them right from the workshop. My father witnessed it and now he's in a state. It's all my fault. I gave a statement to Vito and..."

"Hold on!" Alessandro called. "I can't follow! Who is Vito?"

"The police officer Tris met at the Cascine park when the attack happened there", Luca said impatiently. "He was called to Sergio's flat. Sergio had found Alfredo and Tris badly hurt. Tris needed surgery on his anus." Luca's voice was constricted with sobs. He took a deep breath. "I... my brothers had their rocks off when they heard about it and Dante mentioned a candle ... Tris was raped with one." Another sob. Then silence.

Alessandro let the words sink in. He still only understood half of it. Tristano had been raped? By Luca's brothers? Madonna, if this was the truth.... Hate boiled up in his stomach. A hate he had never felt before.

"Your brothers raped Tristano?" he managed to say.

"No. I mean, I don't know. They mentioned a candle, though, and there was nothing of it mentioned in the newspaper. Tris said that it was true. So I told Vito and he has taken them both to the police station for interrogation. And the worst of all: Raniero's free."

"Raniero", Alessandro said coolly and nodded to himself.

"I'm not sure what father thinks I've done. I've betrayed my family."

"What? That's nonsense, Luca. Your brothers are swines and deserve this treatment. Remember what they did to me."

"Perhaps", Luca said in quiet voice. "There's no evidence for it."

Alessandro shook his head. He bet that Marcello and Dante would deny everything. On the other hand... if they raped Tristano and the other guy there would be traces enough to find out the DNA. But in the case that they used a condom....

"Luca, listen to me. I'm coming home Friday as early as I can. Wait for me at the palazzo, OK?

*

Vito had sent the forensic team to the home of the call-boys to gather finger-prints and any other evidence. Dante and Marcello had to give saliva for a test. Tristano and Alfredo had both enough remains of sperm to mean they both needed a test for several diseases.

"Unprotected sex", Vito mumbled to his colleague while he was leafing the inquiry reports. "How can somebody be so stupid."

Carlo Lanfranco, his colleague, nodded. His face was angry. "You could hardly call this sex, could you?"

Vito looked up. "No. I know the boy Tristano d'Astangli. We met at the Cascine when the attack started there."

Carlo nodded. "I remember Raniero Riefoli. Do you think he's involved?"

"I'd bet my arse."

Vito hurried back to the hospital again, showing Alfredo a photo. He instantly recognized Raniero Riefoli as his attacker.

The cordon search was in full swing. But Raniero had vanished without leaving any real trace. Vito and Carlo visited the gym where Dante and Marcello had been members and wasn't surprised that Raniero belonged there too. The girl at the refreshment bar recognized Sergio, Alfredo and Tristano as being occasional visitors. Vito had have a keen sense of smell. The connection was the gym.

Since neither Tristano nor Alfredo had recognized Dante and Marcello, the brothers had been released from custody. The saliva-test had come out negative.

Luca was desperate. His brothers had been released and Luca feared the worst despite the fact that Vito had explained that no police officer had given away the informer. But wouldn't they be able to add two and two together after the scene at the kitchen table when Dante had blabbed it out, mentioning the candle? It could only be Luca who had informed on them.

Niccolò didn't speak to him anymore. Probably he was thinking the same, despite what he had said that Dante and Marcello wouldn't be his sons anymore if they both had had something to do with the event. But wasn't blood thicker than water? Wasn't it an unwritten rule that you must not give the names of your family members to the police no matter what they had done? Probably Alessandro would understand that code of honour.

Luca moved into the Gondi-palazzo. Rosso had declared he would spend the time with him until Alessandro arrived. They had brought up a bottle of wine from the dusty, gloomy wine cellar and sat in the kitchen in complete darkness where both could keep an eye on the yard.

Rosso occasionally glanced at his friend. Being gay seemed not to be always fun. Especially when there were such idiots as Luca's brothers. On the other hand he couldn't imagine them doing harm to their youngest brother. But who knew?

"Your mother must be beside herself", Rosso started cautiously. "And your father?"

"Pappa? I'm not sure. He was broken when he came home without the brothers. He felt so ashamed about the scene in front of his colleagues that he's ill."

"It's not the responsibility of a family for the crimes of one of its members", Rosso threw in.

"No? Of course there is liability. Everything falls back to his upbringing he said. He raised monsters."

Rosso pondered. "But everything only started when you came out, right?"

Luca nodded. "Except that they always talked bad about faggots."

Rosso poured them another glass and pushed the bread basket in front of Luca. "Eat something." Luca took a piece of unsalted bread.

"You can't hide here for all the time, Luca. You have to face them."

"I can't yet. What if they beat me up? They did it before." He saw Rosso's questioning eyes and told him about the attack on the streets in the Spring. "I know there is no evidence but Dante didn't deny it when I mentioned the subject."

“Well, you were brave enough that time", Rosso said. His stomach hurt. "We should sleep", he said finally and yawned. "Come", he pulled Luca up and dragged him up the stairs. Luca guided him to Alessandro's room where they fell upon the bed. Luca was determined not to sleep but ten minutes later he had slipped into dreams.

He struggled; fought with hands and feet and started to yell. "Sshhh!" a voice said, gripping his hands tightly. "Stop kicking me!"

Luca woke up with a start and stared into Alessandro's eyes. Rosso snored at his side.

"Oh gosh!" Luca fell into Alessandro's arms. "I thought... I thought they had come to get me."

"Who's going to get you?" Alessandro sat on the edge of the bed, holding Luca's shoulders.

"Nice bed comrade", he pointed to Rosso. "Your nanny?"

Luca glared and Alessandro grinned. "Sorry. Were you afraid?"

"Dante and Marcello have been released. They certainly will beat me up."

"Rubbish. Your father would stop that."

"My father can't be everywhere."

"Come up. Let Rosso sleep." They went out, down the stairs into the kitchen. Alessandro took the kettle and heated water. "Let's have some tea." He eyed the empty wine bottle and the glasses. "I see you drowned your fear in wine", he teased.

He took a box with dried peppermint leaves and crumbled them into a sieve hanging in a pot. Then he poured over the boiling water.

"Sit down and let's make a plan of action." He pulled out his box with cigarettes and lit one. "Do you mind? I need one now. Actually I was going to visit Leoni, but this is more important. This Alfredo recognized Raniero from a photo, yes? But not your brothers. What about Tris? Did he recognize one of them?"

"He didn't. But he saw just the backs of two of them. The one, raping him, was not one of them. He knows my brothers."

"Anyway. I guess where Raniero is, your brothers are not far from him, even if they weren't directly involved. What about the leather- jackets? Does either of your brothers have one?"

"Of course. Mother said after the attack at Cascine Marcello's jacket was torn and bloody. She had to throw it away."

Alessandro raised his eyebrows. "That's a point. Have you told Vito?"

"No. I forgot. It's just a suspicion anyway."

"Where do you think Raniero would hide? Have your brothers any meeting place beside the gym?"

Luca pondered. "A playing field near the stadium where they used to play football. There's a little casino where they drink and play pool." Luca sipped at the hot tea. "Tris has had to have a test for HIV and hepatitis", he said quietly. "The bastards didn't use condoms."

"I thought it was a candle?"

"Candles, dildos and cocks", Luca said, fighting tears.

Alessandro burnt his tongue on the hot fluid. The heat of his anger matched the temperature of the tea. He wished nothing more than to get those monsters and gave them the same treatment. Preferably in jail with dozens of sex-hungry guys just waiting for them...

Then he pulled himself together. He had to be sensible. Revenge in cold blood was more satisfactory. He thought about the casino at the stadium.

Luca's head had sunk upon his arms.

What if he could summon up enough buddies to teach them a lesson? What if he told the carabiniero Vito? Would their punishment be enough or would they be released again all too soon because raping fags wasn't important enough to hold them in jail for a considerable amount of time? And who cared about the victims anyway?

Luca snored softly. Alessandro watched him lovingly. He lit another cigarette, leaned back and put his feet upon the chair next to him. Considering the possibilities he developed a plan during the night.

_______________________

 

8

________________________

Giano arrived with Celestino in tow the next morning. Having heard of the events in Florence Luca's brother had decided to come home for the weekend. Alessandro spent the whole morning on the phone chatting; Luca didn't know with whom.

Tino clenched his fists when he heard about what happened to Luca's friend and the call-boy. Broodingly he sat over his coffee cup and nibbled on some toast. Giano shared his silence. Rosso looked from one to the other. For the second time he was aware what it meant to be different. What it meant not to fit into the conception of life held by straight people who claimed to be entitled to tell everyone what's right and what's wrong. He hated intolerance. He hated those narrow-minded folk. Here - sitting in a group of homosexual men he felt, for the first time, real friendship and a mutual aim. And he was determined to help them in whatever way he could.

"Have you called home?" Giano asked his brother.

Luca shook his head.

"All right. I'm going. I want to say hello to Mamma anyway. And I'll spy around to see if the brothers are there, all right?"

All eyes were on him as he left.

Giano hurried through the drizzling rain. The sky over Florence was of a light grey colour, touching the cross of the red brick stone cupola of the cathedral. The pavement was wet and tTourists gathered under umbrellas. Waiters covered tables and chairs with plastic cloths.

Standing in front of his home he pulled out his key and opened the wooden door. An smell of rosemary and thyme instantly greeted him. The scent of home. He hurried into the kitchen to find his father busy with cleaning shoes. His pipe, hanging in one corner of his mouth blew blue smoke into the room.

"Ciao, Pappa", Giano said quietly. Niccolò turned and smiled. "Ciao, Giano! I didn't know you were coming." He took the pipe from his mouth, dropped the shoe and rose. "How are you doing." Then, almost instantly, a frown clouded his face. "Have you seen Luca? He hasn't come home."

"Well, I guess he told you where he's gone to. Palazzo Gondi."

Niccolò stood with hanging arms. "You've heard the sad story?"

Giano nodded. "The brothers?" he asked.

Niccolò pointed with his thumb upstairs. "Sleeping. I guess."

Giano pulled out a chair and sat down. "The police have no evidence of them being involved in the attack, right? What do you think?"

Niccolò took the shoe again and rubbed shoe-cream over the leather. "I don't know what to think. I don't know what I have done wrong. It must be my fault."

Giano looked at the black-haired, stubborn head. The amount of grey had increased. "You never stopped their nasty comments about people being different from others", he said with very quiet voice. His heart pounded. He had never dared to criticize his father before. In former times Niccolò wouldn't have tolerated it anyway. But here and today he looked up, in his black eyes was pain.

"I mean, if you can't accept that it is possible for a man to love another man, you could at least tolerate it", Giano continued. "We want nothing more."

"Do you know the subtle difference between tolerance and acceptance?" Niccolò asked. "I have thought about it a lot. And Coppo helped me." A brief smile scurried over Niccolò's face. "He gave us books to read. Very informative."

Giano reciprocated the grin.

"But who could have foreseen that your brothers would become so..." He shrugged helpless. "I'm not convinced they had nothing to do with the assault on the boys. At least they knew about it. I don't know how to change their minds. I can't talk to them." He paused. "We've always been a good family. All of you four boys got along well together. I'm sure Dante would give his arm for you if it was necessary."

"But he won't give an arm for a faggot. If I had a girlfriend and was like him, everything would be all right. But I can't. I can't change my spots."

The kitchen door opened and Dante stepped in. He halted on the threshold when he saw Giano. Then he pulled himself together. "Ciao, Giano. What's up?" He avoided looking at his father. "Where's Mamma?" he asked.

"Doing the shopping. I'm sure you can make yourself a cup of coffee, Dante", Niccolò said with a faint sharpness in his voice.

Wordlessly Dante put the kettle upon the hot plate. "Have you heard about the piccolino and his betrayal?" he asked, turning, his back still to his father and brother.

"I wouldn't call it a betrayal when you give evidence about a crime", Giano answered.

Like a flash Dante turned. "No? I would certainly call it that way. He did well not to return home yesterday."

Giano saw his fist clenching. He watched the knuckles becoming white and he was suddenly afraid. Would this never end? He took a deep breath and said coolly "And what do you call a man raping a woman and getting away with it? Do you really think it makes a difference when you rape a man?"

"They got what they longed for", Dante mumbled, pouring hot water into his coffee cup. Giano jumped up and took Dante's upper arm. He dragged him around so Dante could look into his pale face. "What they longed for? Are you mad?"

"Giano, Dante!" Niccolò had dropped his shoe and risen from his stool. "Stop it instantly. We need to talk like sensible men. I won't tolerate a quarrel in my house."

"And where is he?" Dante asked. "Where has he hidden, eh? I bet he crept into the bed of those ....", he saw Niccolò's menacing eyes, "Gondi."

Giano released Dante's arm and crossed his own over his chest. "I give up. It's no use to try to talk sense to you."

"All I ever wanted was to punish the tempter of little boys. You and Luca have always been good boys, but then those filthy ... beings came and turned your heads. What is it that makes you enjoy shit stabbing, eh? It's dirty. You can't want to do that."

Giano closed his eyes and pushed away his father who was about to hit Dante. "No, Pappa. Blows are no solution." He looked down at his shoes. "I don't know why people like you reduce homosexuality to sex. We too have a heart. We can fall in love like you. It's a human I love. It doesn't matter if that human is female or male. Have you ever loved?"

Dante shook his head resigned. He took his cup and sat at the table. "I'll never understand it, no matter what you say. It IS dirty and abnormal and not what's written in the Bible." He looked over to his father. "Right, Pappa? You were the one quoting Bible verses. Have you forgotten about that? For all times faggots were chased and imprisoned and disdained. There must be something right about that."

Giano didn't know what he felt. Contempt. Sadness. Anger. Despair. Niccolò looked at him and made a movement with his head in the direction of the kitchen door. He rose and stepped into the hall, Giano following him.

"Luca's all right, Pappa. He's with Alessandro. But what now? Is it safe for him to return? Will you protect him against the anger of the brothers?"

"There won't be quarrel, son. As long as I can breath Luca won't be in danger."

Giano looked warily. Then he nodded. Niccolò touched his arm and Giano suddenly felt a surge of affection. He embraced his father and whispered "It hurts so much."

Niccolò, surprised, patted his son's back. "We'll work it out, son."

*

Luca was tired. His back hurt from sitting on the chair the whole night, sleeping. Alessandro though, despite his blood shot eyes, seemed to be full of activity. "Do you know exactly where the casino is?" he asked. They had both retired to Alessandro's room. Rosso had gone home to watch over his brothers, but promised to stay in contact over the weekend.

"Yes." Luca pulled out his sketch pad from his rucksack and turned back the first page. Drawings of naked body parts appeared. The sketch of Alessandro's private parts and of his face. "Wow, what have we here!", Alessandro whistled through his teeth. He took the pad and examined the drawings. "Exercises to improve your drawing talent?" He brought his face close to Luca's and kissed his lips.

Luca grinned, snatched the pad and started to sketch the surroundings of the stadio Artemio Franchi with the car park and the playing field. In the middle of it was the casino. "The entrance is behind the parking lot." He looked up. "What do you want to know for? You don't want to visit Raniero?" He stretched out upon the bed that Rosso had made. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go to the police station and report it Vito. And then we'll visit Tris in hospital."

"And what do you think the judge will do with Raniero? Perhaps he will be sentenced for half of a year or so. If he behaves well, he's out in four months and can continue on his way. Don't you think he needs punishment?"

"What kind of punishment? Physical?" Luca ran his fingers through Alessandro's locks, lying beside him. "I think people like him need brain washing. I'd lock him up for a month in a house with some gays." He chuckled involuntarily. "I mean... would you try something with him then?"

"With Raniero?" Alessandro looked disgusted. "I wouldn't touch him with a pair of pincers. But I know what you mean. Perhaps he would learn that gays aren't monsters but people exactly like you and me. I mean, like anyone else", he smirked.

Luca leaned against Alessandro's chest. "I wish you would stay here. I feel lonely."

Alessandro embraced him and slipped his fingers under Luca's shirt. He played with the Gondi-cross. "I know. There's so much shit happening lately. Leoni is getting on my nerves. I don't know what she wants. She's got what she wanted. She's married, she's pregnant and after giving birth she'll be rich too. But all she can say is how bad she is, how bored, how controlled, how cut off from life. What should I do?"

"You wanted to visit her, right? Can I come with you?"

"If you want to. Though watch out for her nasty comments."

"I'll be prepared. I'd like to see Anastasia again."

Alessandro leaned in and his tongue opened Luca's lips. "You never told me if you forgive me", he whispered then. "About Leoni and all. I know I never gave much before for the opinion of others." He lifted Luca's chin. "As it is, I care now. I don't live on an deserted island. You and the others, your brother, Rosso, Franco, they mean a lot to me."

Luca saw how hard it was for him to admit his feelings.

"I even understand about Masolino's diary", Alessandro continued. Although I'd give a lot to be witness of the excavations at Rome. I dreamt I could be a hero. Now all I wish is to make peace with myself." He looked deeply into Luca's brown eyes. "You know?"

Luca's heart melted. "I know", he whispered back.

*

Signora d'Astangli was there again on Saturday afternoon, when Luca and Alessandro opened the door to Tristano's room. Luca had bought a single yellow rose and a bag with blue grapes. Alessandro carried a wrapped parcel of books.

Signora d'Astangli smiled when the boys slipped in and rose from her chair. "Nice of you to come. He's getting better I think." She blew her nose into her handkerchief, then she eyed Alessandro. "Alessandro Gondi?" she asked. Her voice sounded a little embarrassed. Obviously she didn't know what to think considering Alessandro had been the subject of most of the gossip in town lately when he had married.

"Myself", Alessandro said and stretched out his hand. "Luca's friend. And of your son."

Luca had stepped next to Tristano's bed. His cheeks had colour and his hair was combed. The drip had vanished and he saw the remains of a thin soup. "I see you had an opulent dinner", he said cheerily and handed him the rose and the bag. "Say if you want anything else and I'll bring it."

Tristano peered into the bag "Grapes, great." Then his face fell. "Mother's bringing in so much, but I'm not allowed to eat it. I'm on liquid diet until I healed." He though looked longingly at the grapes. "My father's here too. And Coppo came too, imagine."

"Really?"

"Yes. He brought his partner with him. And Caro called me. She wants to visit me too."

Luca beamed at him. It seemed Tristano was well on the way of healing.

Signora d'Astangli bent over her stepson and kissed his forehead. "Be good, bambino. I'm coming in tomorrow again." A man peered into the room, opened the door widely and waved good-bye. "Until tomorrow, gioia", he said and took his wife with him.

Alessandro gave Tristano the parcel. "To ease your boredom. How do you feel?"

Surprised Tristano eyed Alessandro. "I didn't know you were here. Please sit down."

Alessandro sat on the chair and Luca upon the edge of the bed. "How are you?"

"Well... better. It's just difficult. Nightmares and all."

Luca took his hand. "You will forget."

Tristano looked doubtful. "Everything comes back in my dreams. And I don't know... I don't know", he fell silent. Luca and Alessandro looked at each other. "You think you can't make love to a guy anymore?" Alessandro said quietly.

Luca saw that his boyfriend had hit the nail on the head. Surely Tris couldn't talk about this with his stepmother. Tristano nodded. "Not only if I'm able to, it's also abouth whether I want it still."

Luca pressed Tristano's hand. That's what he had feared. "You need time. I do understand you though."

Alessandro nodded. "Don't pressure yourself. With the right man you will feel the same as before."

"And what if they punished me for being a slut and having a fuck- affair with two guys at the same time?" Tristano blurted out. "It can't be right. I really was a slut."

"Ssshh! Don't talk like that." Alessandro said, bending over the bed. "You're not a slut. You're horny like every other young man. You only fulfilled your dreams. You can do what you want as long as there's nobody hurt. And NOBODY was hurt, believe me."

Tristano closed his eyes, not very convinced. Luca still stroked his hand and he felt somewhat soothed. But if he hadn't been gay he wouldn't have had to endure all this. But could he change his spots? Could he change the way he felt? No.

"Raniero's still untraceable", Luca said after a while. "You don't have any idea where to search for him do you?"

"Why would I? I've nothing to do with him. Vito said he was member of the gym I visited sometimes together with Sergio and Alfredo. Probably he saw us there."

Luca nodded. "My brothers were members as well. Odd you never met up."

"Alfredo visited me this morning. He's allowed to stand up. He said there were two customers planned for that evening, but the names were a fake."

"And if you think hard, could the guy raping Fredo have been Raniero then?" Alessandro asked.

"I don't know. I couldn't think clearly. I looked and turned to run away. But the other guy caught me. I didn't recognize him."

"Would you recognize him again?"

"I'm sure."

"Good. Um, this Vito, is he coming to visit you often?"

Tristano nodded. Luca raised his brows and seemed to smile.

*

"We definitely have to tell Vito about the casino", Luca insisted when they had left the hospital. It was still drizzling and he hunched up his shoulders. "What are we going to do now?"

Alessandro stood with far away eyes. "I need to do something. Go and wait at the Palazzo, OK? I'll hurry." Before Luca could object he had turned and walked off in the direction of Ponte Santa Trinitâ.

Luca stood, pushed around by walkers. It was already getting dark due to the gloomy weather. Florence had lost its cheerfulness and the palazzi stood menacingly brown and grey along the streets. Even the white washed houses seemed to be sad and water was dripping from the red, overhanging roofs. His stomach rumbled.

So he hurried home through the narrow streets. He saw Palazzo Gondi peering out from behind Piazza Signoria. The bell tower of the town hall was clouded and the water from the Neptune-fountain sprayed its water over the basin, adding to the unfriendly wetness that hung in the air. Tourists had vanished into the restaurants and bars, just a group of never tiring Japanese chattered cheerfully and took their photos.

Luca passed them and took the small path behind Palazzo Signoria leading to Alessandro's home. When he saw the oak wood door he felt a grip on his shoulder and his body was turned around. "You're coming with us, piccolino."

Dante. Luca struggled. His heart suddenly fluttered.

"No! Leave me alone."

"No way. You're going to your tempter again. Gondi's dead. At least to you."

Marcello appeared at his other side. "Why don't you never listen to us, piccolino?" he asked. "We only want the best for you. We've always watched out for you, have you forgotten the good old times?"

Dante to his left and Marcello to his right they passed Palazzo Gondi. Luca threw longing glances at the door where inside Giano and Tino were waiting for him, but his brothers were strong. They hauled him onto a bus and travelled West until they got off at the stadio Artemio Franchi. It dawned on Luca that they were taking him to the casino.

"Let's have a nice evening, just we three together, like in the old days", Dante said while he stomped along beside him, his grip strong as ever. "We can have a game of pool and have a drink. You're old enough to be a man and not a sissy."

"I never was a sissy", Luca protested.

"Sure you were. That's what those faggots have done to you. Laying on your back with raised legs like a chick, eh. Or do you only like it doggy style like every truccare?" Marcello said. His voice was velvet and dangerous. "I'm sure you'll forget about it as soon as you have your first real fuck. There's nothing better than a cunt. And it doesn't taste like shit."

Luca stopped abruptly and his brothers stumbled. "What have you got planned?" he asked sharply.

"You'll be excited!" Dante promised, taking Luca's upper arm again and dragged him in to the casino where people stood outside, clad in leather jackets and -trousers, smoking next to their bikes. Rock music roared from the entrance door. Luca was pushed into a stench of alcohol and smoke. Flickering light chains were draped over the walls which were covered in film posters.

"You're staying with us, piccolino. We don't want you to get hurt." Dante's face was stern and Luca knew he wasn't joking. "Sit down." Luca sat upon a bar stool and watched the girl behind the bar. She looked tarty, with blood red lips, back-combed, white-blond dyed hair, and a neckline almost to her nipples, showing her pumped up breasts. Luca felt sick. She winked at him. "Hey, briciola, what's up? Milk or cacao?"

Dante laughed nasty. "Give him a Cola with a spike. It's about time learned to behave like a man."

The girl laughed high pitched, provided a bottle from the fridge and poured a considerable amount of whisky into the Cola.

Ivory balls of a pool table clinked against each other when they where hit by the cue. Soundlessly they rolled over the green baize and vanished into the numbered holes. Marcello examined his shot and rose. He smeared the tip of the cue with chalk. Then he came over and offered Luca a glass of amber fluid. "Drink."

Luca turned his head. "I said, drink." Marcello's voice was still calm. He crouched down. "Listen to me. This is not a joke. I know you're a decent boy. Remember what happens to guys like your little friend. And to those filthy whores spreading their legs for guys."

Oddly, Luca felt nothing. He had died inside, but his brain was still working. "It was people like you who murdered a lot of guys like me. Intolerant people without feelings. You think you have the right to decide what's right or wrong? You think your lifestyle is the sole valid one? Can you give me one good reason why I'm not allowed to live as I want? You think, I cannot love?"

Marcello laughed. "You can't call that love! You can't love another man."

"You have no clue what it means! Let me go, damnit." Luca went to jump up but Marcello's hand sunk heavy upon his shoulder. "You stay here. Let the faggots come and get you. Those cry-babies can't even defend themselves."

"Hah. And what happened at the Gioco?"

"What interesting talks you have", a guy said. His dark hair was hanging over his shoulder and his neck was covered with colourful tattoos as were his naked arms, jutting out of his short leather vest. "Your little brother? Since when were you the baby-sitter?"

"Come on, Dario", Marcello said menacingly and rose. "Don't talk like that about my brother. He's a good guy."

Dario lifted his hands. "OK, man, OK." He gave Marcello the cue. "Let's have another round."

"Drink your Cola", Marcello said and oddly Luca did what he was told. It tasted good and he finished the glass in one go. Perhaps this would be easier to bear then. Slightly dazed and discretely burping, he tried to think what to do next. Sure, he could walk out of this place, but he wouldn't get far. Telephone? His mobile! He slipped from the stool and searched for the loo. "Behind the bar", the girl said, following him with her eyes.

The toilet was empty and Luca dialled Alessandro's number. Only the voicemail answered. Luca cursed. The Gondi-palazzo hadn't a phone connection that worked. His parents? No. Rosso. He dialled but Rosso seemed to be permenantly talking. The door opened and Luca vanished into one of the stalls where he sent Alessandro a SMS.

He still felt dizzy when he returned into the casino-rooms that had filled up. Guys with leather clothes, girls with tattoos, high heels and long hair.

Marcello winked at him, still busy playing. "Have another Coke", he said. "It's on me. You should celebrate your first day of freedom."

Freedom? The bar girl pushed him another drink. "If you want more, tell me. It's good stuff." She winked.

Good stuff? Luca took the glass and drank. Then he wiped his mouth, turned upon the stool and watched the people. The music wasn't so loud in his ears anymore. And when Dante appeared again, he was happy to see him. "Surprise for you, piccolino", he said. "Follow me."

"Hi, I'm Carmelia", she said, sitting legs spread upon the bed. "And you're the boy wanting to lose his virginity?" She pulled him closer by his belt. "You're too pretty to be believed. The colour of your hair is genuine? Amazing." She stroked his legs. "Your brothers don't look like you - unfortunately I would say."

She opened his belt and pulled down his zipper. Luca stepped away. But his head started to spin. The walls were turning and he shook his head. He recovered his composure and the walls stopped turning. He glared into her painted eyes.

"Let's see if you can hold a candle to your brothers" she cooed, fumbling with Luca's pants and pulling them down. Luca stumbled when he tried to escape and fell onto the carpet. Like a beetle he struggled to get to his feet but she was over him, opening her dressing gown, presenting her dangling breasts to him. She rubbed her bush upon his penis and Luca felt the wetness. He felt more than sick and tried to shove her away from his body but her thighs were strong and held him like a vice while she slid down and started to suck on his limp penis. "Come on, put some effort in it, boy", she complained muffled, biting into his flesh. Luca kicked his feet in pain and pushed her head away.

From the corner of his eyes he saw the door open and a familiar face appeared in the doorway. Yellowish-brown eyes and matching hair, stout and filthy. Raniero grinned nastily. "Having fun, Luca boy? She's great at sucking."

Luca shouted out all of a sudden and showered Raniero with all the curses he knew.

"Impressive", Raniero grinned unmoved.

Carmelia had stood up and pulled Luca to his knees, pressing his head into her abdomen. Luca felt the bushy, rustling pubic hair at his lips and a very foreign, not very pleasant smell. "Lick me, boy", she demanded and rolled her eyes like a lusty mare.

Raniero hooted with laughter. "Dante!" he shouted into darkness. "You must see this. Your brother's fucking a cunt!" Then he listened. "Shit", he exclaimed and vanished.

Luca, repelled, spat upon the carpet and pushed Carmelia hard upon the bed. Then he pulled up his pants and jeans and stumbled out of the door where he was caught by Dario. Luca kicked his shin and Dario yelled in pain. Marcello and Dante were nowhere to be seen. Luca rushed through the playing, smoking and talking guys towards the exit and stopped, petrified. Raniero stood in the middle of the wet remains of the lawn. It was raining heavily but he didn't seem to notice.

On the other side stood Alessandro, Giano, Tino, Rosso and some other guys he didn't recognize. All in all nine.

Raniero swung a club. "Come on if you dare to catch me, faggots." Dante and Marcello had appeared at his sides.

Luca's heart skipped a beat. "No!", he yelled. "Are you crazy?"

"Luca! Come over here", Alessandro shouted.

"Stay where you are", Dante commanded. Luca hesitated, still trying to shake off his buzz.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Are you all right? What have they done to you?" Alessandro called.

"Nothing! We can talk about it later. Stop this madness", Luca shouted.

Alessandro grinned, contorted. "Raniero Riefoli, I guess?" he asked with honeyed voice, stepping forward. "You are one of the rapists, right? Did you enjoy it?"

Raniero blinked. Behind the group of three two other guys came out. Dario and another. "You need help?"

"As you will find out, not all of us here are ... faggots", Alessandro continued unperturbed, stressing the latter word. "My friends are proud to be of help. Are yours too?"

Luca prayed Alessandro would stop antagonising his brothers, but then he beckoned Raniero instead. "Throw away your club and fight like a man."

Oh Madonna! Was this the conception of being a man? Luca turned, pulled out his mobile and dialled for the police. His body was shaking. He didn't dare to turn and look when he heard the first noises of a fight. Slapping punches, ripping clothes and thuds when a body fell onto the muddy lawn. He couldn't suffer it any longer and turned. Alessandro was amidst a cluster of contorted limbs. Alessandro's buddies were obviously enjoying themselves. He had never dreamt that they would do something like this for his boyfriend.

More guys streamed through the open door, building a circle and cheering on Dante and Marcello. Raniero lay beaten, but shook his head and came back up to his feet. Then he took Rosso by the collar of his jacket and started punching his face. Luca yelped and started to run. He wanted to end this madness. He crashed into the other leather guy who had blood running from his nose. Luca dug his fingers into his upper body and fell with him into the mud. The audience howled with pure pleasure.

Luca couldn't see anymore. His eyes were glued shut with mud and he slipped whenever he tried to get to his feet. Suddenly he felt himself pulled up by his collar and Raniero blew his alcohol reeking breath into his face. "Look what I've found. A faggot", he said. He yanked Luca's jeans down, pushed him hard upon all fours and ripped open his own trousers. "Everyone up to watching how I fuck a faggot?" he shouted.

A siren howled in the distance. Blue light was flashing. But no one took any notice. Alessandro had heard Raniero's call and struggled from under Marcello's body. His clothes were soiled with mud and torn, and he was bleeding from a cut on his cheek when he jumped upon Raniero who lay with a bare ass upon Luca, trying to spread his legs and force his cock into Luca.

"You swine!" Alessandro shouted, pushing him from Luca's body. Like a flash Raniero turned onto his back and gripped Alessandro's neck. Alessandro - startled - tumbled back and pulled up Raniero with him.

"Police!" Curses flew through the night when the first carabinieri came running up the field.

"Watch out!" Luca yelled. Raniero stumbled and slipped onto the muddy ground. "You bastard!" he shouted.

Rosso, wanting to help Alessandro, was knocked aside. Raniero's hands strangled Alessandro cutting off his windpipe. Gagging and panting for air he kicked out uncontrollably for Raniero's shins, but then he stumbled over a stone and fell onto his side, Raniero was above him instantly, straddling him, strangling Alessandro, a mad grin on his face. With a last, desperate effort Alessandro pushed Raniero off his body and jumped to his feet, the stone, big and heavy, in his hand.

Raniero got back to his feet again and alternatively eyed the stone and Alessandro's face.

"Come on, coward", Alessandro hissed. "Show me how you fuck a faggot." He beckoned Raniero with one hand.

With an outcry Raniero fell with his whole weight upon Alessandro and crashed with him to the ground.

Again Raniero's big, fleshy hands embraced Alessandro's neck. His consciousness flickered, then he felt the heavy stone in his hand. Before anyone could stop it, he crashed the stone against Raniero's temple. "NO!" Luca yelled. A nasty crack, Raniero's body went limp and rolled aside in a slow motion.

"Everyone up!" harsh words sounded. "Hands up. Come up, buddy, as quick as you can." Handcuffs clicked.

* * *

 

 

"Night time attack with fatal outcome"

the newspaper headlines screamed the next morning.

-- End of Autunno --