by Lory Kaufman
'God, this hurts,' Hansum thought. He found himself turned over on his back, arched across the bench, still held down by the men and looking up with his one good eye. He saw Guilietta holding the cup against his face. The salty water had poured into his eye socket and surrounded the eye ball. The saline solution stung the delicate tissues.
"Try to blink again," he heard the Master say. "It will move the liquid around and loosen the glass." Hansum saw Guilietta looking intently back at him. She nodded her head slightly, to affirm what her father had said. Hansum blinked a few times. "Again," Agistino said. "Once more. Okay now. Turn him over again. This must be a big piece." Hansum was now back on his stomach looking down. "You must loosen the glass a little more. Blink. Blink! Take the cup away." As the cup was removed, a splash of salt water drained from his eye and onto the floor. "Romero, is it dislodged?"
"I can still feel it, but at the front of my eye."
"Daughter, see if you can clear it out. We'll hold him still."
Guilietta lay down on the straw and got her face under Hansum's. He looked down at her with his one good eye. Another drop of the salt water dripped from his face onto her lips. She smiled and the tip of her tongue came out to remove the liquid. Then she reached out slowly with both hands to try to clear the eye. He pulled back involuntarily, but was held tight from above.
"Don't worry, Romero," she said gently. "I've done this many times for Papa." She separated his eyelids again, pursed her lips and breathed slowly as she searched. "Carmella, hand me a clean bit of cloth rolled to a fine point," she said. Hansum was quiet now, watching Guilietta. "Ah, I see it," she said softly. Noticing he was watching her intently, she met his gaze and smiled. Then she slowly inserted the tiny cloth instrument. "I think that got it," she said quietly. "Let me look some more." The two stared into each other's eyes at close quarters, their four chaperones close by.
"And?" came the Master's impatient voice.
"We're done," Guilietta said, smiling. "He should rinse his eye again."
Up on his feet, the world was now moving slowly for Hansum. He could still feel his eye itching, but what he really wanted to continue looking at Guilietta. Far away in his consciousness, he heard the Master laughing and patting him on the back.
"Welcome to the lens-grinding business, my boy."
"I held him good, didn't I, Master?" Ugilino was saying.
As Guilietta walked away, Hansum saw her turn her head sideways, allowing him full view of her profile. Hansum also saw Shamira standing next to the object of his interest, staring at him, guessing what he was thinking. Shamira walked over to him, a smirk on her face.
"Romero's got a girlfriend, Romero's got a girlfriend," she teased, handing him the eye cup.
"Mistress Shamira," Pan whispered, "let me check Master Hansum's eye. Stare into the crease where I am hiding, Master Hansum. Dear oh dear, an eye injury like this could be very dangerous. Look straight at me, yes, that's right. Now to your left, very good. Now to the right. Look to the right, Master Hansum." But Hansum didn't look where Pan told him. He was staring at Guilietta.
"Wow," Shamira laughed. "She knows how to make you sit up and beg. She's my new hero."
Hansum gave Shamira a dirty look, then looked where Pan instructed.
"No real damage," Pan said. "That was a close call, Master. You must be extremely careful. Lose your sight here and there's no helping you, period."
"I've got to get back to cooking," Shamira said, and she, with Pan, walked away.
Hansum's eye started to itch again, so he closed it and lifted the glass.
"Put salt in it first," he heard a voice say. Hansum opened his eyes and Guilietta was standing right in front of him again, a pinch of salt between her slim fingers. He held out the cup and she put it in, stirring it with the end of a wooden spoon. "We must dissolve the salt well or it will hurt more than it needs to."
Chapter 36
There was a heavy banging at the door. Agistino got up and went to look out the open window. A big transport wagon, pulled by four large draft horses, had stopped in front of his house. One of the drivers was standing at the door.
"What?" the Master shouted.
"Signor Agistino della Cappa?" the driver inquired.
"Si?" the Master answered apprehensively.
"Master della Cappella? Lensmaker?"
"Si?" Agistino felt a tightness in his chest. Had his creditors followed him from Florence, he wondered? Were they about to have him arrested? "What do you want of me?" he demanded.
"Delivery from Florence."
Nervously, the Master opened the front door. The driver and his assistant took three large wooden crates from the wagon and put them at the house's threshold.
"What is all this?" Agistino asked. "I ordered nothing. I cannot pay you."
"There is no charge to you," the driver said, holding up some papers. "It was all arranged in Florence by . . . uh, let's see here . . . by a priest. Father Aaron."
"From the Holy Father? Bring them in. Bring them in," he said excitedly. "Boys, help them."
After the delivery men left, everybody stood staring at the crates. Agistino finally took the pry bar and opened one. Under the lid was a thick bed of protective bulrush stems. Under these were many small bundles of old cloth. The Master unwrapped one. A gasp escaped from his mouth.
"A lens blank!" He continued unwrapping blank lens after blank lens, each one giving him equal surprise.
"Look, Master," Hansum said. "On the paper the driver gave you, it says 'Manifest.' It is a list of what's in the crates."
"You can read it? You can read too?" he asked with astonishment, then crossed himself for the further blessing.
Hansum read out the inventory in the crates. "One thousand blank lenses . . ." The Master sucked in a huge breath and had to sit down. "Two hundred and fifty carved bone frames, one hundred and forty wire frames, seventy leather frames." A great sob came from the Master's breast and he crossed himself. "There's more," said Hansum. He read out that the delivery also contained five pounds of mastic, the same of iron oxide, three new brass finishing bowls, an assortment of rasps, files and finishing instruments. By the end of the list, the Master was on his knees, hands clasped together, his head bowed against the bench upon which he had been sitting. Gales of sobs roared from him.
"Down on your knees, children," he wailed. "Do you not see what this means? Give thanks! Oh my merciful God, oh wonderful benefactor, give thanks, give thanks, give thanks!" Agistino cried, awash in emotion. The huge man wiped his eyes with one hand and bade everyone to join him on their knees with the other. Both Ugilino and Guilietta got down immediately and buried their faces into praying hands, the others followed slowly.
"Grazie for your abundant blessings, Jesus," the Master cried to Heaven. "I know there is a place where you live for the saintly Father Aaron. Oh Jesus, he is a saint. Yes, God, that's it. Make him a saint, make him a saint," and he continued saying many Hail Marys under his breath.
"Master della Cappa..." Agistino heard Hansum say. He opened his tear-filled eyes to see his new apprentice holding a second piece of paper toward him. "There's a letter from Father Aaron." Agistino waved it away.
"I cannot read so well. Tell me what it says."
Everyone turned their expectant eyes to Hansum.
"It says, 'Dearest brother, Agistino. In faith I knew you would recover your health and vigor for life, so in faith I ordered and paid for these supplies before we left Florence. I pray you continue your good work and bring your family back to prosperity. In the love of God for man, I remain, your true friend, Father Aaron.'"
At the sound of these words, Agistino felt such a further rush of emotion that he flung himself prostrate onto the straw-covered floor. "Sweet Jesus," he cried out. "Father in Heaven, Holy Ghost, I swear to you, if I ever betray the Holy Father's faith in me, may you send an angel to strike me down and burn me alive! Grazie, Father Aaron. Grazie, Father Aaron. Grazie, grazie, grazie."
Guilietta came over to her father and helped him up. The Master sat back down on the bench and continued to sob.
"What's he blubbering on about now?" It was the Signora, awake and standing halfway down the stairs.
"The Holy Father sent us more supplies, Mama," Guilietta explained.
Another wail of emotion erupted from Agistino.
"Did he send more porco?"
Chapter 37
After his good cry and something to eat, Agistino felt a calm that he hadn't felt in a long time. In fact, as he looked over his household, he could see a similar contentment on everyone's faces, even the orphans. Since the eating table had been used for the business that morning, everyone ate where they could. All enjoyed the salty cured ham, the olives, the fruit, and of course, the white pane, the better quality bread that Guilietta had bought.
Lincoln took his turn on the back of the lens that he and Hansum had started. He wore the Master's spectacles to protect his eyes, so he had to stand very close to his work to see anything. Ugilino turned the flywheel, constantly asking if the speed was right, if he could have a turn with the rasp and if he should spin it the other way. Every minute or so he purposefully sped up the wheel and then howled with laughter when Lincoln complained.
"It is not a plaything," the Master bellowed several times. But inside he felt calm.
He began reviewing the list of his new supplies and making plans. Hansum sat with him, listening and offering a thought or two. Guilietta went upstairs to give the Signora a bath. She soon called downstairs and asked Shamira to add a real sponge to the next shopping list. The Master smiled, pleased that his women could now have some little luxuries. Still smiling, he sent Shamira upstairs to help his daughter.
Then Agistino stroked his chin with his forefinger and thumb, speaking half to Hansum, half to himself. "With this further gift from the Holy Father, we are at least two years advanced in building financial liquidity. Perhaps I must now rethink the approach to starting out." He smiled broadly as a thought began to take shape. "Maybe we could take some time setting up a proper shop now. Yes," he said, smiling. "Then the men and women won't be falling over under each other all day." He shot a glance upstairs, then winked at Hansum, knowing the intelligent youth knew exactly what he meant. He started explaining how they could convert the lower part of the barn to a workshop. It would take the better part of a week to put down several layers of gravel to stop it from being so muddy, remove the rotten wallboards and replace them with new wood, and add secure windows and doors. "There will be a great many other details, but if we can get the supplies and the workmen quickly, a week should suffice. You boys will work as laborers and learn much," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "Yes, a week. A week and then our new life begins."
For supper they finished the leftovers. As the sun set, Agistino told the three boys it was time to retire to the barn.
"Get to sleep right away," Agistino said. "I'll wake you when the sun comes up and we will be very busy till the Sabbath. And here," he said, reaching into the bottom of one of Father Aaron's trunks. "Take these." Relative luxury would be the boys' lot this night as Master della Cappa handed them three large wool blankets.
Chapter 38
Back in the loft, Hansum was wrapping himself in his new blanket, trying to ignore Ugilino's badgering.
"No, Ugilino, we can't go out. You heard what the Master said. We've got to get up early."
"If I say we go, we go!" Ugilino insisted. Hansum and Lincoln just ignored him and further settled into their little nests, now protected from the worst of the itchy straw by the blankets that Arimus had provided. Frustrated, Ugilino turned and slid down the ladder, leaving abruptly. As soon as Ugilino left, Pan came out, having been switched back to Hansum for the night.
"You two look rather relaxed for ones who have had teeth broken and eyes impaled," the hologram said. "And look where you're sleeping."
"Ah, it's not that bad," Hansum replied, lying dreamily in the hay.
"Yes," Lincoln added as he scratched an itch. "A sonic shower ain't everything."
"Holy Hygieia," Pan fretted. "Are the victims complying with their oppressors' desires? The fate and honor of all genies, indeed, of all Puckish pranksters and hard cases everywhere is at risk."
"Settle down, little guy, settle down," Hansum said, getting onto one elbow. "Pan, I've been thinking."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"The two lathes we've seen are very different. And this one is so awkward. Why do they make them like that?"
"It's not awkward to them. It's the latest technology. They don't know any different."
"Yes, well, can you show us a way to improve their design? To show Master della Cappa how to make a lathe that would really make him ahead of his time?"
"Hey, that's a zippy idea," Lincoln said.
"Indeed, indeed, you have been thinking, Young Master." Pan's eyes went wide with excitement. "It's ingenious, inspired . . . devious."
"Devious?"
"Yes, when History Camp officials from the future see us giving advanced technology to an ancient culture, they will come and stop us. You heard what Arimus said. Helping people from the past with advanced technology is against their time travel laws. It's ingenious. Well done, Master."
"That wasn't why I . . ."
"I shall find time over the next days to work with Shamira on this," Pan went on. "I shall instruct her to draw up plans for an advanced lathe. Not too advanced, but advanced enough to make a significant impact. Oh, I am so excited."
"But that's not . . ."
"Don't be modest, Master. You are a genius. A geniuso!"
"Pan!"
"Stop trying to argue with him," Lincoln advised. "Have you ever won an argument with an A.I.? The only way to shut them up is to go to sleep." He pulled his liripipe down over his ears and nestled down in the hay to sleep. "It's going to be an early day tomorrow. Pan, turn down your light."
***
When Pan heard Master della Cappa in the barnyard at dawn, he woke the boys so they would be up and ready when Agistino poked his head through the opening of the loft. They were standing there, smiling at him. He watched the Master chuckle appreciatively. They worked on the barn for a few hours before dinner, and Pan stayed with Hansum for the morning so he could observe the Master's plan.
"He seems to have a natural grasp of organizational flow," Pan whispered to Hansum. During a short break, Pan whispered again, "Pass me over to Mistress Shamira when you can. I must go with her and Mistress Guilietta to the market, just to be safe."
Later, at Piazza Bra, Pan saw that Shamira and Guilietta were up going to buy the same foods as they did on the previous visit.
"This will never do, mistress. People will become bored with the same diet. And besides, preparing a variety of foods can be very creative." Pan advised Shamira on what to buy, and at the house, told her how to cook varied and healthily balanced dishes which everyone would appreciate. Shamira found the ruse fun. The next morning Pan dictated a menu for the whole week.
"Carmella," Guilietta said, as she watched Shamira writing, "you are so clever and know so much. I am very happy to have you as my friend."
"I'm glad I have you as a friend too, Guil," Shamira said. "Come on. Let's get shopping. You carry the list and check it off."
"Well done, Mistress," Pan whispered. "You are a good teacher."
Included on the shopping list were a few extra cooking implements: a new skillet, some wooden spoons and a grate with short legs to be put over the fire. Then Shamira suggested they buy some extra wooden bowls so everyone at the table would have their own. Guilietta held her breath, frozen at the thought of the extravagance.
Shamira smiled slyly as she said, "I'm sure Romero would appreciate not having to share his bowl with Ugilino." The two girls giggled and agreed to do it. That night, Pan noticed the Master's look when he saw the additional place settings. He said nothing, except to meet his daughter's expectant eyes with a little nod of approval.
>
"Hey, we are living like princes now," Ugilino said and he nudged Hansum with his shoulder. "Now you can't steal my share of the food anymore." Everyone laughed.
Chapter 39
Pan spent his time among the three teens, observing, advising and keeping an eye out for their safety. But he was also curious.
"I find it fascinating, Young Masters," Pan said to the two boys when nobody else was around, "how you both seem to be so cheery despite the odd circumstances you find yourselves in. Did you ever work this hard physically back home?"
"No way," Lincoln said. When Pan asked why, the answer was "I dunno."
Hansum reflected for a few moments.
"Back home there was no real need for the individual to do things," he said finally. "At least, it didn't appear so. But this, this work is going to make a big difference to everybody in the family."
"Yeah," Lincoln agreed. "And it's fun to work a bit and actually see the results."
"Well, Young Masters, I am truly impressed," Pan whispered. "In such a short time all the old, rotten planks have been pulled off the lower portion of the barn and you've piled it all up neatly for firewood."
"Yeah, we can do anything!" Lincoln bragged. "We're supermen!"
"Can you imagine working like this for the rest of your lives?" Pan asked. This question caused the boys some pause.
"Hmmm. I guess you've got us there, Pan," Hansum said. "To be honest, maybe we're finding all this fun because we know it's not forever."
"Yeah," agreed Lincoln. "But after we go home, maybe Arimus could arrange it so we can come back and visit. It's actually kind of interesting."
Just then the Master called to the boys. He and Ugilino were coming down the lane with a big, heavy wheel barrow. It was piled with shovels and rakes with large wooden peg teeth. The Master said that now that the interior of the barn was exposed, the next task was to remove the worst of the muck and filth from the floor. It was to be replaced with layers of gravel to improve drainage. If the muck looked like decent soil or humus, they were to take it over to the Satores' garden. Pan chuckled inside his lamp as he watched Hansum and Lincoln struggle through the shoveling and how they could hardly move the wooden wheelbarrow when it was full.