by Lory Kaufman
Ugilino gasped so loudly he wheezed. Hansum and Lincoln stifled a laugh and rustled about in their blankets, like they were dreaming.
Pan looked Ugilino solemnly in the eye.
"Yes, I can still hear your heart beating. And I can certainly perceive your breath. Phew!" He made a fanning motion in front of his nose. "Perhaps your breath is what I recognized wrongly as rotting remains."
"Si, si. That's it." Ugilino agreed. "It is the foul smell of the living, not the dead."
Lincoln snorted, and Pan could see him biting his hand to control his giggling.
"Well, no matter. If I leave you alive today, I'll come for you soon enough. To strangle you now would put suspicion on the angelic orphans that share your bed. I would not want them to suffer for your righteous reward of death."
"Si, si. That's right. They are saintly youths. I do them wrong to torment them."
"Then why do you do it?"
"The Master torments me and I them. It's my right."
"Your right? I see. Does the Master do you right or ill when he scourges you?"
"Ill, most of the time. So, sometimes I do mischief because I might as well do the crime if I am to do the punishment."
"Then both you and your Master shall share a pot of boiling oil, right next to the flayers of flesh."
This image seemed to terrify Ugilino. Falling to his knees, he looked Pan straight in the eye.
"What penance must I do to take me from the road to . . ." He seemed to be searching in his mind for the right word. ". . . perdition?" he finally said.
Pan looked surprised.
"Penance? That would bespeak a fear of Hell. I thought by your actions you longed for a place in the netherworld."
"No, no. I wish to spend eternity with the angels. Is there penance? Have I time?"
The holographic goat-man turned and walked a few paces, stroking his little goatee. "Hmmm. Penance? Penance?" Then he turned. "There might be a way."
"What? What must I do to put me in the good graces of God?" he said, walking on his knees quickly toward Pan.
"Do? Not much. But I warn you, a tally of your sins is being kept, as sure as I am a legate of Tartarus. If you are lying, confess now and accept your damnation. But if you are sincere, I may offer you salvation."
"Yes, spirit. I am sincere."
"Very well. Then mark what I command of thee and do not alter one thing that is prescribed. And then maybe, perhaps, perchance, just possibly, there is a faint hope of your ascension up, rather than ignominious descent — down."
"Yes, yes. I shall do exactly as you say."
"Firstly, you must not do harm to these orphans again, but embrace them as brothers."
"Have I not already said as much?"
"Be not jealous or envious of their deeds and accomplishments, and covet not what either may acquire. You pause in your enthusiasm, brother. To this can you not agree?"
"I, I, I . . ." Pan raised a finger. "I agree. I agree."
"Good. You shall no longer lodge in this loft. Take yourself and your things and move into one of the stalls below. But just because one rooms in a stable, one does not have to live like an animal. At all times you must keep the place clean and aired. You must faithfully clean the chamber pot, rinsing it with water twice daily to deny the flies food. As for yourself, you must wash at the town fountain, not once a day, but twice, like the chamber pot. Thrice on Sundays. Your hair must be shorn and combed, clothes changed weekly without fail. You must clean your teeth."
"My teeth? How? Why?"
"How? With vinegar and a clean rag. Why? Because I say it."
"I've never heard of such a thing? Clean teeth to get into Heaven?"
"Then keep your foul smile and the dirt will be cleansed by Hell fire."
"I beg forgiveness. Vinegar shall be my filthy mouth's soap."
"And that is not the worst."
"More? Heaven has a high price," Ugilino said under his breath.
"The hardest of all: your duty to others in the home and out. Firstly, you must be kind, not only to these orphans, but to everyone. Above and beyond that, do whatever the Master tells you. Go to church. Go to confession. Help the priest two afternoons every week. And lastly, you must not tell the Master or anybody about my visit to you. Knowledge of visits from spirits would make Heaven and Hell a certainty, and cause trouble for faith. Anyway, none would believe if you told of one such as me."
Chapter 46
The next morning Lincoln was laughing as he splashed the cold water from the rain barrel onto his face. "I, I, I, I. . ." he repeated out loud, imitating the big oaf's first reaction at seeing Pan. He was still laughing when the door opened and in walked the Master.
"You like the cold water, Maruccio?" Agistino enquired quizzically.
"I was just thinking of something funny, Master."
"Laughter is good for the soul, my son." Just then Hansum came climbing down the ladder.
"Buon giorno," Hansum said.
"Buon giorno. Where's Ugilino?" Lincoln and Hansum looked at each other warily. The Master's smile faded. "That inconstant son of the streets!"
They worked for a time in the shop and then went to have morning dinner. They were almost finished when the door to the house opened. The Master shouted, "Ugilino, where have you . . ." then he stopped. The youth's hair was shorn to a stubble. His face, still pockmarked and blotchy, was clean. And he had a change of clothes.
"Nice duds, dude," Lincoln said. Of course, the translator simply changed it to, "Nice clothes, signor."
"Grazie, brother," Ugilino answered. "Master, please forgive my lateness. I was at morning mass and Father Lurenzano asked a favor of me."
"Where did you get those clothes? You didn't steal them, did you?" the Master asked seriously.
"No Master, no. My word on the baby Jesus," he said. "The priest gave them to me."
"You look so different, Ugilino," Guilietta said. "Very clean. Very nice."
"Grazie," Ugilino answered, clutching his hands in front of him in nervous supplication.
"What's that smell?" the Master enquired, wrinkling his nose.
"I washed my whole body," Ugilino said, touching his body in different places, trying to figure which bit of ripeness he had missed.
"No, it's not that," the Master said, sniffing the air again. "It's vinegar."
"Ah," Ugilino said. He bared his teeth. "I used vinegar to clean my mouth." His teeth were still awful, but a noticeable difference could be seen. "And Master, here." Ugilino reached into a pouch on his waist and brought out a small handful of coins. He plunked them on the table. "I took two pair of discs for the eyes and sold them at church this morning."
A shocked silence enveloped the table. Pan whispered something into Lincoln's ear and he repeated it to the table. "I think brother Ugilino has found his calling. Perhaps he can be a vendor about town for the discs for the eyes?"
"Yes, Master," Ugilino agreed enthusiastically. "Maybe I can't be a lensmaker, but I can sell our house's wares."
"Ugilino, what has caused this transformation?" Guilietta asked. "It is truly a miracle."
Ugilino put his head down. Lincoln knew Ugilino was forbidden to tell the whole reason, so he was curious what old ugly would say.
"I want to go to Heaven," Ugilino said solemnly. "I want to have a home."
Lincoln felt the tiniest bit guilty.
The Master crossed himself, then put his hand on Ugilino's arm. He picked up the pile of coins, chose the smallest and gave it to Ugilino, bidding him keep it. Then he handed him a bowl of food. The two smiled at each other.
Shortly after dinner, Father Lurenzano and Master Raphael arrived for a meeting about the lathe. Pan was whispering in Hansum's ear, making him sound quite knowledgeable. The Master negotiated a price, then said, "Romero is capable to finish the details of the lathe's manufacture. Master Raphael, I need this machine in a week. Is this possible? Good. Romero will go with you today to observe the start. He'll then visit you twice
daily to see its progress. Father Lurenzano, perhaps you and Ugilino should be off to talk with your fellow priests."
"Will you not attend with us today?" Lurenzano asked.
Agistino put his hand on Ugilino's shoulder.
"I now have three trustworthy apprentices, all with different talents. I must go back to making lenses with Maruccio. But Father, thank you for your godly influence on our Ugilino. He seems to have been reborn."
Father Lurenzano looked at Ugilino, first a bit confused, and then he smiled.
"Our Ugi is special to all of us."
Chapter 47
Agistino was astounded that the new lathe was not only delivered on time, but that it worked perfectly. He was used to problems cropping up, arguments with suppliers and customers, delays and deception. It was the way of the world, his old master had told him. When Agistino shared these thoughts with Master Raphael, he agreed, but said the difference with this job had been Romero. The carpentry master praised Hansum lavishly, saying that his observations and suggestions when they had problems were as if the boy had insights and experience of a much older man, "ten older men," he added.
As for the lathe, with its multiple dops and pedal power, it more than doubled Agistino's production. They were selling the finished product almost as fast as they could make it.
When nobody was looking, Agistino took Hansum aside and clasped his hand.
"You're a good boy," he said, looking him in the eye. When he freed Hansum's hand, the teenager looked down to see five misshapen denari in his palm. "Don't tell anyone," Agistino said confidentially.
Agistino was now selling so many spectacles that he had to stay up late one night and create a hiding place for his new wealth. He carefully removed a large stone from the side of the fireplace, hollowed out the mortar and stones behind it, put his strong box in, then fit the front stone back perfectly. He piled firewood in front of it, making it impossible to see.
***
Pan was finally able to call a meeting of all the teens. Things had been so busy, it was almost impossible, but he had insisted, saying it was important.
"The month is over in a few days," Pan said nervously. Instead of standing in the straw of the loft, Pan's head was the only thing projecting from Hansum's shoulder. "Arimus should be back soon."
"I really do hope he'll let us come back and visit," Lincoln said.
"I'm surprised that he hasn't come sooner," Pan replied. "I thought he'd try to stop us from introducing the new lathe."
"Pan, why are you just hanging out of Hansum's arm? It looks ridiculous."
"Well, that's because something odd has happened to me."
"What?" Hansum asked.
"Promise none of you will laugh?" Pan asked.
"What is going on?" Shamira demanded.
Pan sighed, then tweaked his nose. His regular whirlwind happened, but it was purple. When he landed, the teens gasped.
"You've got a tail!" Lincoln shouted.
"And long, curly hair," Hansum said.
"And your butt is purple," Lincoln howled.
"Also, if you look closely, you'll notice the tips of my ears are twelve millimeters longer," Pan said dejectedly.
"Why did you change yourself?" Shamira asked.
"That's just it," Pan said, his eyes filled with worry. "I didn't change myself. It happened. Spontaneously."
"How?" Hansum asked.
"It was soon after we started using the new lathe."
"How could that affect anything?" Hansum asked.
"I think we somehow changed the timeline by introducing an advanced tool. Somewhere down the timeline, something has changed in history to make me different."
"But you said the History Camp people from the future would stop us before it changed things."
"That was just speculation."
"Wait a minute," Hansum said. "If we changed time, wouldn't all of our memories be changed if something like your appearance changed? Why would we remember your old form?"
"Like I said, it's all speculation. Since our society can't time travel, what happens is all speculative. Like the old science fiction of centuries past, there are different schools of thought. But this is real."
"Actually, I kind of like your new look," Shamira said.
"Truth be told," confided Pan, "so do I. But what's more important, is what should we do? I'm having my doubts that the History Camp people will play fair, so I suggest we really try to introduce something that will disrupt the historical timeline. Something to force them to show up. That's why I wanted to show you all this. Mistress?"
Shamira opened her portfolio and took out the sheets of handmade paper.
"Pan had me draw these up," Shamira said. "It looks really simple." She spread the plans out on the straw and Pan illuminated them. "We would use thick parchment to create homemade cardboard for the barrel and gaskets," she went on.
"Oh, it's the telescope," Hansum said.
"Zippy," Lincoln said excitedly. "This oughta shake those History Camp elders' tree."
"Shamira could get the needed parchment and glue from the market tomorrow," Pan explained.
"But that takes money," she said. "Master della Cappa makes Guilietta and me account for every coin."
"No problem," Hansum offered. He took out the coins Agistino had given him. "Is this enough?"
"Excellent," Pan said. "Master Hansum and Lincoln, tonight we'll stay up late and create the lenses. You shall both get to practice your craftsmanship." Pan saw Lincoln smiling at him. "What, Young Master, what?"
"You look really funny with a purple butt."
***
The next night, with the lenses made and the parchment and glue at hand, the teenagers gathered in the workshop. Pan stood on the workbench, supervising the making of the telescope, his new, longer tail swinging back and forth.
"No, no, no. You're putting too much glue on here," he complained, "not enough there. Don't buckle the parchment when you roll it." Putting the lenses in was the fiddly part. A cardboard gasket was put in at both ends and glued. "Let it dry first. Patience. Patience!" Pan complained, the most impatient of all. The lenses were then placed in at both ends and additional gaskets glued in front of them.
Shamira, whose deft fingers completed these final touches, held the finished telescope up. It was really quite a simple affair, but they were all pleased.
"Ladies first," Hansum said.
Shamira held it to her eye and looked across the room at Lincoln. He made a face. "It works!" she announced.
"Cool," Lincoln laughed. "Let's look at the moon!"
"Wait," Hansum said. "I'm kind of worried about giving this to the della Cappas. I know you want to provoke the History Camp time travelers, Pan, but I don't want to get the Master in trouble with them. And if improving the lathe had an effect on history, the telescope could really change things."
"How can a little thing like this cause trouble?" Lincoln asked. "What's the big deal?"
"Oh, the telescope introduced now would be a very big deal, Young Master," Pan answered. "It wasn't invented till the sixteenth century. Armies, navies, anyone could see their enemies much sooner. Events in history could be completely altered. Everyone will want one."
"That's what I've been thinking," Hansum said. "And once we show Master della Cappa this, taking it away isn't an option. He'll know how to make them. I'm worried about what the History Camp people would do about him then."
"Perhaps you're right," Pan said, pulling on one of his new dreadlocks as he thought. "I was sure the History Camp elders wouldn't let us get this far with the lathe. And, as I think of it, if the telescope was introduced now and it changed some battle, perhaps the timeline of the whole world could be changed. One of our ancestors might not be born or created, and we would — phhtt — disappear."
"Phhtt," Lincoln repeated, wide-eyed. "Freaky."
"Okay," Pan continued. "We shall give it more thought. Hide it in the straw upstairs till we've come to a conclusion ab
out this."
"Yeah, but can we look at the moon with it first?" Lincoln asked. "After all, we made it all by ourselves," he said proudly. "Let's see how it works."
"Okay," Hansum replied, reaching for the door. Just as he touched the latch, it lifted by itself and the door swung open. Pan instantly evaporated into thin air, not even bothering to create his genie-like puff of smoke. Master della Cappa was standing in the doorway with Guilietta right beside him. Hansum stood there, telescope in hand, having no time to hide it.
Chapter 48
'Oh oh,' Pan thought from inside his lamp.
"What's that?" Agistino asked, noticing the lenses. "You made this in my shop, with my glass?" He didn't sound angry, just direct.
"I used the reject lenses from my practicing, Master. I reground them smaller."
"What is it?"
Pan quickly whispered in Hansum's ear.
"Just a toy I invented," Hansum repeated.
Agistino inspected the item and put the large end to his eye.
"The other way, Master," Hansum corrected.
"Point it at the moon," Lincoln said enthusiastically.
Agistino stepped back outside and pointed the telescope toward the sky. "Holy Mother of God!" he gasped, falling back into the room. "How can this be? It's magic!"
Guilietta took the telescope and stepped outside.
"No, Master," Hansum said, repeating a phrase he heard Pan use the night before. "It's not magic. It's two lenses working together. It's lenscraft."
"Romero, it's so clever," Guilietta called. "I feel I can almost touch the moon. And look, I think I can see mountains upon it."
'So, it was Guilietta,' Pan thought, 'not Galileo, who is the first person to recognize the mountains on the moon for what they are.'
"How did you know to do this?" the Master asked.
"When I was polishing a lens and comparing its surface curve against an earlier lens, I just held one up in front of the other and boom!" Hansum repeated this, then, "I noticed Maruccio looked closer to me than he was. Oh Master, it's just a toy. I'm sorry if you think I wasted your glass."
Pan watched the Master staring thoughtfully for several long moments. He could tell his mind was awhirl with all the uses for such an invention. He could tell Agistino most certainly knew this was anything but a toy.
"Romero, I'm going to take this with me," the Master said. "Tomorrow at church I'll show it around. Maybe we can sell a few of these new . . . toys, for a few soldi, eh?"