by Lory Kaufman
The Master stopped short, turned and glared at Lincoln.
"This one speaks when not spoken to? Does he not know that orphans must be obedient?"
"Why do you keep calling us orphans?" Lincoln asked plainly.
"I took charge of the children in Mantua," Arimus explained, "but they and their departed parents were from north of the Pyrenees originally. They do not yet know our language and customs as well as they might."
"Oh great. Now I have three more idiots to go with Ugilino." He turned and entered his hovel.
Chapter 22
Hansum had to bend his head to enter Master della Cappa's dingy, grey home. Although the dirt floor was covered in straw, like the History Camp home, this straw wasn't clean and fresh. There were old, moldy clumps of what had been straw, now turned mostly into mushy, furry clods, with bits of food and animal bones mixed in for good measure. The three large windows in the place were shuttered closed, cutting off all but a little sunlight, keeping the place in a dull twilight. Cobwebs hung low from the corners. Like at History Camp, the downstairs was one large room. There was a small area separated off in one corner by an old curtain. It was ripped and dust-covered, hanging like a ghostly shroud in the tomb of a forgotten corpse. While the History Camp ceiling was low, the ceiling here was lower and made of unmatched graying timbers and crooked logs, flattened on top to support an upper floor. Hansum could just miss hitting his head. Two large rusting grey pots lay in the similarly hued ash-filled hearth. There were steep, rickety stairs to the second level, and the banister was little more than a length of jagged limb wood. Master Agistino della Cappa turned to Arimus, his hound-dog eyes drooping. "See how the mighty master has fallen. Behold what I have brought my family to."
Arimus put his hand on Agistino's thick shoulder. "Fallen only to rise again. How can one appreciate joy if he does not know misery?"
"Then I shall be a connoisseur of joy when God deems to send me some," Agistino said, then added, "Rest yourself, Holy Father. I am glad you are here. I shall fetch my wife and daughter."
"Grazie, my son." Arimus sat at one of the benches by a table.
The Master climbed the stairs, each tread groaning under his weight.
"That was really weird," Lincoln said in a stage whisper.
"Weird? It was scary," Shamira added. "I've never seen that much blood, except for the chicken."
"Why did this Master get so mad at the ugly guy?" Hansum asked.
"Ugilino embarrassed his master in front of us," Arimus explained. "The Master was — still is — a prideful man. An apprentice must not do such things."
"If the Master is so mean to that ugly guy . . ." Shamira began to ask, but Arimus interrupted.
"Dear children, I know his countenance is much worn for one so young, but his name is Ugilino, not ugly."
"Well, why does this Ugilino stay around if the Master hits him?" Lincoln asked.
"Every dog needs a master. And no matter how you beat a dog, he comes back, craving attention, needing his home, his place. However, the sight of Ugilino continually reminds the Master of his own low social status. In truth, he hates himself more than he hates his mongrel."
"And Ugilino puts up with this abuse, why?" Shamira asked.
"He has had a roof over his head, for the most part, and his share of the food. And now that you three are here, the pack has grown and he senses his position elevated."
"What was that comment Ugilino made about becoming the Master's son?" Hansum asked.
"Yeah," Lincoln said. "That really turned the old guy 'rangie."
"Ah. Well, Ugilino has it in his head that one day he will marry the Master's daughter, Guilietta. He knows the story of how Agistino married his master's daughter, and dreams of history repeating itself."
"Well, for a mouth breather like Ugilino, his sights can't be set too high," Hansum snorted. "This daughter must be a real dog too."
A woman began shrieking from up the stairs, the words interspersed with howls. "Noooooo! Nooooooooooo! How can I get oooout of bed? Aaieeeee! Leave me alooone!"
"The Holy Father is here. The one who financed our relocation. You must present yourself."
"I'm tiiirrrrrrrrrred!" the woman screeched.
"Wife, please . . ."
"Noooooooo! I caaaaaan't. Let me beeeeeeeee!" Something thumped loudly on the floor. Dust fell from the ceiling on the four below.
"Don't!" the Master shouted. "You'll break it!"
"I don't caaaaaaaare! Leave me aloooooooone. You made me leave my home. You fired our servants. You ruined our daughter's chances. You've made me a beggar. A peasant. My clothes are a mess. I have no one to wash them! How shall we liiiiiiiiiiiive? Why did I marry yoooooou?"
"I have arranged a kitchen girl for you," came the Master's voice, sounding as reasonable as possible. "She will wash your clothes. And I've new apprentices who have some grinding experience. Two years and we should be comfortable again."
"Two years! I must live in this dung heap for two years? Noooooooo!"
"Once it is cleaned it will not be so bad! We have the help now . . ."
"Noooooooooo!"
"You will do as I . . . "
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
A larger crash. More falling dust and a sudden silence. Hansum looked over at the others. Arimus was sitting, relaxed and calm, while both Lincoln and Shamira were wide-eyed. Another female voice was heard from upstairs. This one was gentle.
"Hush mother. I beg you." And then the voice became too soft to make out. There were whispers and soothing tones. Then the creaking of a bed was heard, along with grunts and groans.
"Ohie! Ohie!" the first woman's voice complained. Then the banister shook as somebody took hold of it up top. A slipper appeared, followed by the tattered hem of a once-elegant dress. The stairs creaked as a second slipper came into view and, slowly, the mistress of the house appeared. Hansum squinted at the sight of her. Short and obese, Signora della Cappa had a jowly, pasty white face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were dull and tired. Her dress was rumpled, slept in. Her large bosom was not so much buxom as fat. A too-tight bonnet, trimmed with sweat-yellowed lace, surrounded her face. Behind her was the Master, scowling more than ever as he was forced to wait for his ungainly wife to make her way down.
Another pair of leather slippers appeared, smaller and with a lighter touch upon the treads. No angry sounds of protest came from the stairs with these feet upon them. The dress took up much less volume as the body underneath it was slight. Both grace and balance showed in her movements. Her face, too, was surrounded by a bonnet. But this one, though not crisp and new, was unblemished, like the face it set off. Two large brown eyes sheltered under thin, crescent-shaped eyebrows, a fine nose and full lips, dark pink and natural.
Chapter 23
Hansum felt Lincoln elbow him. "Hey, who's the mouth breather now?" the younger teen teased. Hansum closed his mouth, but he didn't — couldn't — take his eyes off of the girl.
Arimus stood up and smiled.
"Signora della Cappa," he began, but she walked right by him and plopped down on the bench.
"My feet, they kill me," she complained. "They cause pain all the way up my legs. My back. Oh, my neck," she moaned.
"I'm glad your journey was made without harm to your family," Arimus continued.
"The journey, that's what did it. My body aches right to the bone. Because this fool of a husband. . ."
"Woman. . ." Agistino began loudly.
"Peace, my children," Arimus said. "We have all traveled far but are safe under one roof now, thanks be to God. And now, through God's good graces, all your fortunes will be made by your hands working together."
"You're right, Holy Father," Agistino said, putting his head down and crossing himself.
"And what of you, Mathtilda?" Arimus asked. "Will you honor God with your best intentions?" He waited for an answer, but it was not forthcoming. The Signora was staring at a point a few inches in front of
her. "Mathtilda?" he repeated. After a moment she looked up to the ceiling.
"You're right, Michael," she said to the air. "I will tell her." She looked directly at Shamira. "Girl, bring some wine. Two cups. One for me and one for Michael."
The daughter came to her mother's side and spoke gently. "We have no wine, Mother. We've moved here only yesterday. We are not yet provisioned."
"Then watered wine only," the old lady said with a wave of her hand, like a grand Duchess.
"Who does she speak to?" Arimus enquired.
"Angels. Devils. Trees. The air." Agistino was angry, but contained himself.
"Holy Father," Guilietta said, "my mother thinks she speaks with the Archangel Michael."
"Don't be daft!" the mother exclaimed. "I do talk to him. He's right there, alighted on the ceiling. Aren't his silver wings beautiful?"
"How long has she been as this, Guilietta?" Arimus enquired.
"It got worse during our trip. Now she barely speaks but to her spirits."
"I'll send herbs to calm her," Arimus said.
"Grazie, Holy Father," thanked Guilietta.
"Si. Michael says he would like some herbs too," the Signora said. Then, looking back to the ceiling, added, "What? Si, some saffron. It's gold, like his beautiful halo."
Arimus clapped his hands loudly to break the room's gloomy spell. "So, family della Cappa, these are your new apprentices. Carmella, for the kitchen and home. And this is Romero. Romero Monticelli. And this is Maruccio."
"Those names again," Lincoln whined.
"Can't you call me Shamira?"
Hansum didn't say anything. He couldn't take his eyes off of Guilietta.
Arimus said, "No, these are your names now. Fine Christian names that the good people of Verona will recognize. Your other names, from north of the Pyrenees, will sound strange to the local ear. And this is your new home, children, where you will find shelter and sustenance. This is your new mistress, Signora della Cappa." The old woman continued staring at the ceiling, ignoring the teens. "Obey the Master and Signora as you would obey me and all will be well. This is Guilietta, their daughter."
"Hello," Guilietta said. She looked at Shamira. "You can teach me to cook and clean. I am ignorant of all these skills, but wish to learn."
"The blind leading the blind," Shamira said.
"Such a strange response, Holy Father," Guilietta said.
"I am sure you will be great friends."
The wife blurted out, "Friends with servants. Humph! Impossible."
"Hush, mother," Guilietta said. "These are orphans from far away. Their misfortune has been worse than ours. Let us be kind."
The words fell upon deaf ears. The Signora was already looking blankly at the ceiling. Arimus clapped his hands again. "The day is coming to an end. All must eat so tomorrow starts well."
"Our cupboards are almost bare," Master Agistino said, his voice quavering. "We have but the better part of a loaf of bread and an onion. And my pockets are even more empty."
Arimus reached into his robes and pulled out a bundle a bit larger than his hand. "The lord shall provide," he said. "A haunch of boiled pork."
The Master was so overcome he caught his breath. A look came upon his face that was a mixture of awe, happiness and shame. Guilietta's eyes opened wide and sparkled. The old woman's mind finally came back to the room. She quickly turned her head toward Arimus, or more correctly, toward the meat.
"Porco!" she blurted, her tongue popping out of her mouth and gesticulating around her lips.
"This and the bread should provide a meal to see you till tomorrow," Arimus said. "Then you may go to market." The smile evaporated from Master della Cappa's face and he once again looked dejected. "Not to worry, my brother," Arimus said. He put his hand in his cloak once more and brought out a little pouch. It jingled. "This should provision your home with food sufficient till your business may start bringing in coins."
The Master literally fell to his knees, took hold of Arimus's robe and sobbed. Guilietta hugged Arimus as well, thanking him over and over.
"Hush, my children. Enough," Arimus insisted. "Accept this gift, fold into your family these orphans, prosper all, and the money is well invested." He held the bag out to Agistino, but pulled it back slightly, adding, "But not for wine."
"Holy Father, the grape has not touched these lips since Florence," Agistino said crossing himself twice.
"It is true, Holy Father," Guilietta assured. "My father has been his old self since you sponsored our move. And I too have made a vow to learn the ways of the household so I can be his and my mother's support."
Arimus smiled at Guilietta, then at Agistino. "Into your hands I commend your family's and these orphans' fate. You were a prosperous tradesman before, and you shall be again." He put the pouch in the Master's large, red hand and closed his fingers around it. Agistino leaned forward, tears in his eyes. He kissed Arimus's hand and said a prayer. When he was done, Arimus helped him to his feet and added, "The day is waning. Make your meal and prepare for the evening."
Chapter 24
"Will you sup with us?" Master della Cappa asked.
"No, I shall lodge and feed with my brothers at San Zeno. But first I will to the market to get the herbs for your wife. I give you charge of the orphans, Agistino."
"Stop calling us orphans," Lincoln insisted.
The Master shot a look at Lincoln and warned, "You are now my charge. I tell you, do not speak until spoken to. This is the way to learn and this is the way of my house."
Lincoln opened his mouth wide to say something. Arimus put his hand on the youth's shoulder and said in Earth Common, "Remember, this place is not what you're used to. Take great care." Lincoln looked at Arimus belligerently but shut his mouth.
"I shall return," Arimus continued in Italian. "But until then, listen to the Master. Help each other. Say your prayers." The time-travelling History Camp counselor took a few steps toward the door. As he reached it, Master della Cappa ran to his friend and embraced him again. They kissed each other on the cheeks. Then Arimus looked once again at the assembly. "Blessings, my children. Keep well in God." Then he turned and left.
Hansum and the other two visitors from the future looked at each other unsurely. They watched the Master close the door and turn back to the room. He smiled at his daughter and jingled the little bag of coins.
"The Holy Father has once again provided us with the means for our family's revival."
"Father, I shall do what is necessary to improve our house's position. I will not be dependant."
"Daughter and helpmate, a father's dream is to dote and spoil his daughter, to make of her a useless, pretty prize to catch a rich man for her and the family. But I swear, a daughter of brains is more a boon than I would have ever thought. Almost a son."
"Thank you, Papa."
"Porco!" the Signora demanded.
The Master sighed. "Attend to your mother. Take her for a short walk while the place is cleaned and the meal prepared. It may calm her till Father Aaron returns with the precious herbs. But don't let her talk to the neighbors. Walk her in the back lane."
"Shouldn't I stay and help prepare the meal and clean?" Guilietta asked.
"No. I'll direct the new orphans . . ." He stopped when he saw Lincoln make a face at being called orphan again. "I'll direct our new . . . apprentices in their first duties. There will be cleaning and cooking enough over the next months and years."
Guilietta encouraged her ever-complaining mother to rise from the bench and follow her into the street.
"Master della Cappa," Hansum said, "perhaps I could help Guilietta with your wife. She looks a handful."
The Master glared at Hansum, waiting for Guilietta and the protesting Signora to leave the house. He raised a big finger to Hansum.
"Romero, is it? I see your moon face and eyes at the sight of my daughter. Take a care, orphan, for my daughter is my dynasty. If you ever talk to her about anything except your duties of the house, you
will find yourself again looking for another position in this cold world," he said bluntly.
"I wish only to be her friend."
"A woman is a friend to a man as meat is to a meal." He continued addressing all the teenagers. "If you wish to eat and have lodgings, I have first tasks for you. Romero, go to a neighbor and borrow a flagon to start the fire. Then come back and help me scrape the pots. And we must have water. But we must boil all our water before using it. Who knows how long the rain barrel has been collecting filth and bird droppings. You, Maruccio, go to the barn where we met. There's a store of dry wood there. Bring both small and large limbs for making a fire. Then take this bucket and go to the barn and fetch water till the two pots in the fireplace are full. Carmella, clean up this place and make the table ready." He looked at all three children. "So? Is there more you need to know? Go!"
The two boys left the house and entered back into the stink and noise of the street.
"Maybe this place won't be as much fun as I thought," Lincoln began. "When Arimus comes back, I think I'll ask to go home."
"Psst. Young Masters, psst." The boys heard a tiny voice. It was Pan. He had popped a tiny version of his holographic head out from the material at Hansum's shoulder.
"Well, it's about time," Hansum said. "Have you been watching all this?"
"How could I not? This is extraordinary. Extraordinary!" A man on a donkey lumbered by. Pan disappeared back into his lamp at the top of Hansum's sleeve. When it was clear, he showed himself again and added, "Who would have thought such a turn of events would happen? Do you think this Arimus is aware I was on your person when he stole you away?"
"I'm not sure," Hansum replied, "but I'm glad you're here."
"What should we do?" Lincoln asked.
"Let us proceed as in the first History Camp. Do what you're asked and be civil for the most part. When we've amassed enough intelligence, we shall decide the best course of action. I shall continue to observe. We'll talk again when you go to bed."
"Okay," Hansum said as Pan disappeared in a puff.
"See ya, little guy," Lincoln said.
The two boys parted to do their chores. Hansum looked up and down the street to see which neighbor could be called upon for a light. He saw the man who had thrown the contents of a chamber pot at Ugilino. He was still sitting at the open second-storey window, his face all knotted, squinting as he worked intently on something in his lap. Beside him was a woman, doing the same. The man looked up and met Hansum's eyes. Hansum waved and the man looked suspiciously at him.