The Lizard

Part 2  - Estate  -

Spring had gone like the light-heartedness of these days. We sat upon a stony bench, overlooking our mutual hometown which hadn't changed in all the years.

Funny, it seemed ages ago since we met, me standing awkwardly beside the procession that lead the corpse of his father to his tomb, he winking at me, beckoning me to the narrow path to give me the first kiss of my life. And yet the years went on. My heart was waiting, leaving the boy I used to be behind. But still I remained the boy deep down in my soul. Things never change, despite your physical image counting the years that pass.

I search his face. He isn't the same. There is a faint hardness behind the smooth skin; shades I am unfamiliar with yet albeit his smile is the same and his movements, but the expression in his eyes is different.

   "You were not only the prince of the lilies... you were the Principe del mio cuore."

He's looking at me; his blue eyes shaded with the years of things I will never grasp. I could ask him so many things but my mouth is sealed by pain.

   "Prince of my heart..." he repeats slowly. Slowly and with a quiet voice. Then, unexpectedly, he starts to laugh. It is the same, unabated laugh I used to know.

So much ease sounds within and evokes the days when life had been easy and yet filled with difficulties.

His laughter ends abruptly and he is serious again. "I am sorry for everything", he tells me quietly, not looking at me. His hand steals furtively aside, searching for mine. And suddenly I have the impression of us being an old couple that had the chance to live together for good, but could not. And it was solely our fault. I press his fingers and with that touch my hurt falls off me.

Yet the memories remains.

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1

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The sky was a violet, translucent cover that sat upon the town of Firenze. The morning promised to become a hot day later when Luca stood at the kitchen window of the palazzo Gondi, waiting impatiently for Alessandro's and Giano's return from Pisa. Two weeks had gone by and this was the evening of the Festo di San Giovanni, St. John's Day, patron of Florence. On the Piazza in front of Santa Croce they were working hard to prepare for the Gioco. They had set up a stand of seats for the audience and filled a marked area in the middle of it with thick layers of sand. The town was filling with even more tourists and a joyful anticipation lay over the whole town.

Tristano next to him played with the lapis lazuli Luca had brought here for safety. He wasn't sure that Dante wouldn't steal it to destroy it - just for the pure fact that it was a gift from Alessandro. He tossed the stone from one palm into his other and felt the weight.

Luca wasn't sure why he had come with him, but he seemed to be interested in the old palazzo. "I should go now. You'd surely like to be alone." Tristano put back the stone, but not before wrapping it carefully in the soft cloth.

   "This early? I thought you wanted to stay?"

Tristano shook his head. "Not really." He gave him one of his odd looks, that Luca caught so often these days, then a brief smile and he was out of the kitchen door before Luca could stop him. He watched his back crossing the yard and then he was swallowed by the darkness of the wooden entrance gate. He had hardly left when Sandro's red Ferrari shot through the gate, swirling a lot of dust. Luca headed out but stood petrified a second after. He saw an unfamiliar person that could only be Giano's boyfriend. Celestino. Luca grinned. What a name.

But then he felt himself embraced and an open pair of lips kissing his own. Heat and longing shot up his body. "I see you dressed up for my welcome?" Sandro said laughing, looking Luca, who had put on Pucci's leather suit, up and down. "You look ravishing. Let's make sure that we get rid of those two", he said winking and turned. "That's Celestino, but you can call him Tino."

Giano rolled his eyes, took Tino's hand and went around the car to greet his brother. The man next to him appeared a bit older, dressed casually in comfortable jeans and a white T-shirt. Luca thought him a few pounds too heavy, but his face was attractive and Luca was instantly bewitched by a pair of glistening amber-coloured eyes and softly outlined lips, revealing a string of pearls as teeth. He shook Luca's hand. "Hm, if I had thought that your brother was that luscious..." he said good-humouredly in a voice which gave Luca instant weak knees.

Giano pushed him, but grinned. "I'll get you for that comment", he said, pulling Luca to his chest. Sandro threatened Tino with his finger. "Another comment like that and I'll get angry. Come on with that baggage, I'll show you your room." He turned and said with a cheeky grin, "I don't have to prepare another room, do I?"

Giano said nothing and Tino waved him off, not without another huge grin.

Luca watched his brother during the dinner they had in the large kitchen. Fran had come and prepared the rooms for Sandro's friends, had done the shopping and overseen the delivery of food. Finally Franco arrived with his friend Claudio in tow, who was all anxious to see the grand Gioco the next day. It was a funny and exuberant evening but still Luca couldn't tell if Giano had succumbed to the longing that was clearly plastered all over Tino's face. He fed Giano with little morsels and made him drink the wine that had been delivered from Sandro's uncle Arrigo's villa in the Tuscany landscape, as always.

   "What do you think of Tino?" Alessandro asked as Luca was peeling himself out of his leather trousers. He sat already half naked with just his briefs upon his bed, leafing through Masolino's diary.

   "He's nice."

   "Just nice? I think he's completely besotted with your brother. And what do you think they're doing in their room now, eh?" he added. Luca looked over his shoulder. He didn't know what to think. Actually he understood very well what was going on in Giano's head; how he felt about a first night with a man. Just like he himself had done some months ago. In the Spring. Now it was Summer. He only hoped that Giano didn't mess it up. He stretched out his hand. "Shower?"

Hot water sprayed from the shower over their heads onto them while they were soaping each other. "I missed you", Alessandro said, and Luca read his lips.

   "Missed you too. A week can be so long." His soap-slippery palms stroked over Alessandro's buttocks and in between the cleft, back and forth to his abdomen, gliding down, and soaping his half-hard erection. Within a second it stood upright and Alessandro pressed his body to Luca's, embracing him. Water streamed over their faces.

   "Was that Tristano hurrying out of the palazzo when we arrived?" Alessandro mumbled sleepily. He had buried his head into the nape of Luca's neck, laying half above him. He felt Luca nodding.

   "What was the reason for his leaving. Us?"

   "Yes. He said, he didn't want to disturb us."

   "So, he's come to terms with you and me?"

   "Apparently. We never talk about it."

Alessandro lifted his head. "Never? So, how do you know then?"

Luca closed his eyes. He didn't know for sure, but he certainly had the feeling. At least Luca never left a mistake about his sexuality but Tristano never commented it. He wondered why.

   "I've told you that he's in love with you. Why do you never listen to me?" Alessandro outlined Luca's lips and then played with his ear lobe. "Anyway, I guess we'll see him again tomorrow? I need to get up early to pick up my clothes."

   "Are you nervous?"

   "As hell. What about your brothers? Are they prepared?"

   "I guess so. They talk about nothing else these days."

*

Giano lay awake. He knew that at his side Tino didn't sleep either. Actually he had imagined that his first night with him would be different. That Tino would  try to do something. That there would be more than the blow job he allowed Tino when he had visited his place. 

He looked over and saw him laying on his back with his eyes open. It was a double bed, so the space that separated them, was easy to cross. Giano stretched out his hand and touched Tino's chest. His fingers crawled slowly across the skin, feeling the short, black hairs, invisible in the night. It felt good, and because Tino didn't move, his fingers wandered lower over the stomach and belly, flat due to his prone position. And suddenly he heard a low giggle. "Don't do that. I'm ticklish." Tino raised his body and peered over at Giano. "No, don't stop."

Giano pulled his hand back and lay motionless. They stared at each other. "What are you afraid of? Don't you like me?" Tino asked. "You know, I'm Celestino, the heavenly", he growled with a deep voice, making Giano grin. Tino bent over and brought his lips near. "Come on", he whispered. Giano closed his eyes and pulled Tino's head close to him. His leg embraced Tino's buttocks, which enabled him to feel his brief-clad erection, feel the lips on his own, the tongue that was caressing his own, and then something kicked in.

It was so much different to lay next to him in a bed, than to sit or stand and receiving a blow job. A long groan escaped his throat and Tino slid over him. Giano tugged at his briefs, pulled them down over Tino's butt cheeks, freed his straining penis and started to stroke it. It was easy he thought and familiar. Like his own.

   "I've been crazy for you since the first time we met", Tino mumbled into his ear. He vanished under the blanket and pulled down Giano's underpants, appearing again a moment later, triumphantly holding up the pants with a grin Giano couldn't resist. Long laughter sounded, similar to Luca's pearly laugh and passed into groans when Tino started sucking him until he begged him to stop or rather to continue until his brain blew out of his skull. They rolled on the bed and Giano didn't notice at first that Tino's fingers were caressing the entrance of his backside, until he felt something caressing him from within. He froze for a minute, looked into the amber eyes, burning from desire, and thought that he wanted more of that.

   "More?" Tino read his eyes, making Giano flip over onto his stomach and then he crawled up behind him. A wet tongue entered him, played with the rim, outlined it, washed over it, and after five minutes of feeling it Giano called himself a complete idiot that he hadn't let this happen before. Tino turned out to be a perfect teacher without making Giano feel like he was being taught. All he could remember an hour later was that he had rolled a wet condom over Tino's cock, lay back and let it happen. The first sting was painful, the second too. The third less and then.... and then...

Giano opened his eyes and saw Tino's face that so close to his own. Tino's calm breathing told him that he was asleep, with his arm resting around Giano's waist and their legs entwined. The stinging feeling was still there and Giano didn't know how he would handle it in the morning. But perhaps it would have gone by then. Deep down he knew that he had lost his heart, and it hadn't been difficult to do so. He placed a kiss upon Tino's nose and saw him smile.

* * *

Luca's eyes were alternating between Tino's then Giano's. They were sitting at the opposite side of the kitchen table with a shit-eating grin on both faces. Holy cow, he thought. They had made it. He grinned back cheekily and winked at his brother. Honey dropped from Giano's toast but he didn't seem to notice until Tino started licking it from his fingers. Alessandro burst into laughter. "So, these are our new love birds, yes?" Franco and Claudio looked confused.

   "I told you, gioia", Alessandro continued, "that it wouldn't hurt." Giano rolled his eyes at Alessandro. "Shut up, smart ass", he grinned.

Giano felt fantastic. In the early morning they had done it again, switching positions and Giano couldn't get enough of it. Tino had told him that he had probably woken sleeping dogs, but his face was beaming. Life was wonderful. He even had the possibility of moving out of Sandro's room and moving in with Tino. Why not? They got along well and the prospect of sleeping with his boyfriend each night made his body tingle all over.

   "Um, did we miss something?" Franco asked innocently. He bent to his friend and whispered "I guess we're in the middle of a gay brothel or something."

Claudio shoved him. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this situation. Sure he knew that Alessandro was gay but the other two? "What the hell", he said aloud, blinking his black eyes at the guys. "I'm here to watch the Gioco. Aren't you going out to pick up your clothes?" he asked Alessandro.

   "Yeah, I'll be going in a minute."

   "Mother's expecting us this morning", Luca said. Giano was thumped back down to earth again.

   "Oh. Um, how will you explain your nights away from home?"

   "I'll tell the truth, simply that I'm staying with Sandro. They don't have to know what I'm doing here."

Everybody was grinning. Alessandro planted a kiss upon Luca's lips and emptied his coffee cup. "We'll meet back here again at noon, OK?"

   "When does it start?" Claudio asked.

   "Three p.m. sharp. At two the parade of trumpeters, horses and drummer starts, I guess you won't want to miss that, right?" He was out.

*

The Montori's palazzo was a jumble. Dante and Marcello were sorting out their clothes. Half length, blue baggy trousers and heavy boots enabled them to have a stable hold in the sand. Dante was already dressed with his full blue shirt when Luca, Giano and Celestino arrived.

   "Where's your pervert friend? Have you called for the priest to give him absolution? This will be a day he won't forget."

Luca simply ignored him and went on into the kitchen where his mother was preparing tramezzini and salad. Luca saw heaps of apples and cucumbers, fresh carrots and oranges. "Are you intending to feed an army of soldiers?" he asked her good humouredly. Clarissa turned. "Ah, Luca, gioia. Where's Giano? Didn't he arrive yesterday?"

   "Sure." Giano stepped into the kitchen, Tino behind him. "This is Celestino, a friend." He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

Niccolò emptied his pipe and rose from the table. He shook Tino's hand. "Welcome to the Montori's", he said formally, but not without a smile. "Are you a student friend?"

   "Fellow student, yes. But I'm two semesters ahead."

   "Mamma, can you fix this please?" Marcello had stormed into the kitchen, his upper body naked, his shirt in his hand.

   "Let's see." Clarissa took the shirt and examined the rip. "The seam is torn. Doesn't it fit properly?"

Luca eyed his brother's muscle covered body. He worked out in the gym too much and God alone knew what he was eating to develop such muscles. Remembering Alessandro's smooth and lithe body, he feared for him.

   "Hi, Giano", Marcello said shortly over his shoulder. Then his eyes fell on Celestino and he looked questioningly.

Giano didn't know what happened but before he could stop it, Tino had said "Celestino. I'm your brother's boyfriend." He reached out his hand.

Clarissa emitted a little cry and dropped the shirt. Everyone was staring at Celestino. "You certainly mean friend", Niccolò growled from behind.

   "No," Tino said friendly but determined. "I said boyfriend."

A roaring laughter was heard. Dante, standing in the doorway, had thrown back his head and was laughing. "That's too funny everybody!" He jumped behind Luca and held his neck. "Certainly one of these faggots is enough, but two of them is simply ... over the top!"

The Montoris stared at Dante and Luca but nobody could bring themselves to say anything. Clarissa picked up the shirt and went out to search for her sewing box.

Niccolò cleared his throat. "I take it this is a joke?" he said with uncertainty in his voice and nobody answered him. Giano had stepped to Tino's side, shaking inwardly. He hadn't prepared Tino for the fact that his family was not exactly what one would call gay-friendly. Nor gay-accepting. Shit.

Luca had freed himself from Dante's grip and glared at him. "Hold your mouth, Dante. Go and see if you can find a priest for yourself."

Dante's face reddened and he glared back. Luca knew that only the presence of Niccolò stopped him from hitting Luca.

Giano's hand searched for Tino's. He took it and grasped it. "It's not a joke, pappa. Dante's right." He held his father's gaze until Niccolò broke it and simply went slowly out of the kitchen. Clarissa hadn't returned.

   "I'm sorry, Giano", Tino said. "I didn't know... my parents are cool with it. You should have told me."

   "I didn't want to worry you." Giano's head hung and Luca took his upper arm. "It happened now, and I'm glad it has. About time."

   "About time?" Dante said, looking at Marcello who had not said a single word, but was clenching his fists. "About time?" He glared at Tino. "And you with that stupid name. What have you done to my brother? Made him a filthy faggot like yourself, eh?" He turned to Giano. "I hadn't thought it of you, becoming a shit stabber, ugh. It's nasty enough to make me throw up."

Giano raised his hand and slapped his face.

That was the second time, Luca thought. The first blow he had received from Sandro and Luca knew his brother well enough to see that he was seething. Dante made a step forward and pushed his brother hard, but Tino jumped between them. "Stop that! What's gotten into you? How can you call me such names, you stronzo. Look at you, strong like a bull, but with a brain of a pea." He spat in front of Dante's feet onto the kitchen floor. Then he took both, Luca and Giano, dragged them out of the kitchen and exited the Montori palazzo.

Luca tried hard not to cry even though the tears were burning behind his eyes. Within the space of ten minutes he had lost his home he thought. What were his parents going to say? Would they throw him out of the house? Was it possible that his mother, who considered him to be her sunshine, would be so hard-hearted? And his father?

   "I'm really sorry", Tino repeated incessantly. "I carry my heart upon my sleeve, I should have thought first before I spoke. I didn't know your brothers."

   "We should have told you", Giano reassured him, but his voice was tight. He feared for Luca who had to live at home while Giano himself could vanish.

They arrived the Gondi-Palazzo and sat on the kitchen stools. "What do we do now?" Tino asked, completely unhappy about the events. He looked at Luca.

   "Your brother knew about you?"

Luca nodded. "By accident. But he has held his mouth with our parents."

   "Hi ragazzi, I'm back. Look at this." Alessandro was coming through the kitchen door and instantly felt the gloomy mood. "What's happened?"

Luca filled him in. "Jesus Christ." Alessandro slumped down upon a stool. "I need a drink." He uncorked a bottle of wine and poured four glasses. "Where's the rest?"

   "Franco and Claudio are doing some sightseeing", Luca said quietly. He took his glass and gulped down half of it. Alessandro forced his arm down. "You'll get drunk. It's hot outside!" Alessandro sighed then and sipped at his glass. "Let's see. You haven't heard from your parents, gioia. I'll bet that they are sensible enough to see it as it is; something that can't be changed. They can't be as stupid to think the way Dante does, that you can make somebody gay by pure seduction, can they? So," he continued convinced, "when we meet up later they will tell you both that they love you."

   "Huh", Giano and Luca said unison. "Who will believe that."

   "Me", Tino said. "My parents hadn't a problem with it. Well, at least no big problems. After the shock wore off it was allright. I was still the same one I was before."

   "You make it sound too easy."

   "I'm not making it sound easy", Tino insisted. "Everyone with common sense must see that I'm right."

   "Who's talking about common sense?" Giano said. "Our brothers have never heard of that."

   "Funny, how brothers can be so different." 

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2

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The parade carried on from the Piazza Santa Maria Novella in the West of the city, via Piazza Signoria along Borgo dei Greci culminating in Piazza of Santa Croce. It was a glorious march past, with nobles on horsebacks, dressed in fifteenth-century costumes. In front of them walked trumpeters and tamburini with a white banner and a fire red lily hanging from their instruments, behind them, archibursers, knights and representatives of the town council, like the proconsul of the art and trade guilds, then again banner bearers and judges.

The crowd cheered at the colourfully dressed actors. Lansquenets with their typical "torn" trousers, striped in red and white or yellow and blue, with iron helmets, decorated with bushy feathers. They stomped through the streets, whirling up great clouds of dust, for it hadn't rained for a long time. The noise was deafening when the trumpets gave their high-pitched sound and the low beats of the drums matched a steady heart beat.

Luca, Giano and Tino heard them from far away. Since they had family members in the team of the Quartiero of Santa Croce, they had been able to get seats in the stands which framed all four sides of the square in front of the gleaming white church of the Holy Cross. Banners were blowing in the wind: a golden cross on blue background for their own Quartiero, and a temple upon a green background for the other.

Green was also the colour Sandro would wear. Luca sat next to his mother who still hadn't said a single word to him since they had met up again, fighting their way through crowds of curious tourists, armed with cameras, and camcorder, with little flags and hats against the sun. Luca knew that at the end of the match all of them would be covered in the swirling sand, although it had been watered.

The procession arrived, and the horse riders parted to make room for the military band. The banner wearers entered the field with the flags of companies; Luca saw golden and black lions, green dragons and red carriages. His heart beat loud and painfully. What would happen? Would Alessandro be able to escape Dante's unmistakable scorn? Broken limbs were normal for this match, but for Luca would this be a lucky day if Alessandro only had a broken leg. What a stupid idea of his boyfriend taking part.. He heard Franco chatter behind him. "That's not football, it's rugby or something", he explained to Claudio. "It was invented in the military encampments where the soldiers resting between battles would have lost strength without exercise. It was a game which developed arm and leg muscles in a real hand to hand struggle for what was the size and shape of a cannon ball. It was first played here in Florence, not so much as a sport as for training young men in the art of combat."

   "Where do you know all of this from?" Claudio was sliding on the uncomfortable wooden bench.

   "From Alessandro. There was a famous match in 1530 when the Florentines had been besieged by Pope Clement VII. They kept playing their game more to show the city's scorn for the besieging troops, who considered Florence exhausted and already defeated. That's the real nature of a Florentine", he added.

   "Contrary to an aesthetic and frail Venetian, eh?" Claudio teased him.

Franco nudged him. "Didn't work out. They had to admit defeat in the end."

A loud shushing was heard and the audience fell silent. The mayor of the town, Alessandro's uncle Emilio, gave a short speech, dressed in doublet, a long cloak, and a Mazzoccho - a cloth, wrapped around his head, with a long point falling upon his shoulder.

And then the fiftyfour members of the Quartieri entered the battle field. There was a roar of cheering and banners and flags were waved. Luca slid around to find Sandro. He looked good in his green clothes, with his trousers and boots. He briefly remembered Sandro's laugh when he had showed him his sack-lifter, a pouch, protecting his private parts. Luca hoped he would take care of that sensitive part. It had been squashed before.

Giano pointed to the field and Luca detected Dante with Marcello next to him, dressed all in blue. They looked like bulls, pawing with their hoofs. In the middle of the lined up teams, was led a pretty, light brown calf. It had a green garland around its neck.

   "What's that?" Claudio asked and Franco shrugged his shoulders.

   "The prize for the victorious team", Giano said.

   "A calf?" Franco and Claudio were shaken by laughter and Giano joined in with a grin and waggled his eyebrows.

Again the trumpet players blew their instruments and the drummers whirled their sticks. A multi voiced "Viva Firenze!" echoed over the arena and then it started. 

Luca looked at his watch. An hour of battling. The ball - well, more of an rugby ball egg shape - was thrown high in the air and everybody was jumping at it. He saw that Dante had thrown away his shirt over the fence that protected the audience and was now running like a sweat-glistening bull. The people moaned, cried and shrieked with excitement, standing up when their favourite team had the ball, hissing, when it was the wrong team.

   "Would you like a tramezzino?" Luca heard his mother asking beside him. She held the bread out to him and he took it. Furtively their eyes met. He seemed to see a small smile in her eyes. He reciprocated and the smile reached her mouth. "We'll have to talk later, Luca."

He nodded and a stone, as big as his lapis lazuli, seem to fall off his heart. He nudged Giano and whispered "Mamma seems to be all right."

Giano beamed and bent forward to see his mother. She winked at him.

    "Watch out", Tino shouted, when Alessandro was tackled by a blue dressed guy, who was a half head bigger than him. But Alessandro had taken the ball and was crossing the field, pushing and shoving the opposition players out of the way. He had almost reached the line he needed to place the ball behind, when he was grabbed by his ankles so that he fell hard upon the sand. A groan went through the audience. But Alessandro stretched out his arms and pushed the ball behind the line. The green Quartiero jumped up in unison and shouted "Caccia, caccia!

   "1 : 0 to San Giovanni!" the match commentator shouted, but nobody heard him.

Luca and Giano had jumped up too, but were down quickly again since it was the wrong Quartiero they were cheering for. Both earned suspicious stares, but that didn't bother them.

They followed the struggles, attacks and scuffles until everything was a blur. Most of the players had taken off their shirts, only to be distinguished now by their trousers. Their bodies glistened in the sun with sweat and oil, and soon they were covered in a layer of sand.

Luca followed Dante's ways. He constantly tried to cross Sandro's path, fighting desperately for each ball and to make the draw for Santa Croce. Sandro couldn't stop him, for as he tried, another lad from his own Quartiero crossed his path and tackled him, so that he was falling all over the place. "Ouch", Luca said. "that was Raniero. Shit."

Raniero belonged to Sandro's team, so Luca couldn't grasp why he should tackle Sandro. Possibly Raniero was even more stupid than he'd thought.

After the first half of the match the score read 10 : 9 for San Giovanni and Alessandro had made four goals. The crowd was cheering "Gon - di! Gon - di! - at least the fans of his Quartiero were and Luca suddenly felt terribly proud. As if in honour of his surname Lucertola Sandro slid through the massive bodies of players who bumped and clashed with each other instead of wresting the ball Alessandro was carrying.

Luca couldn't recognise any of them anymore. He saw Sandro's mop of brown hair, covered in sand and sweat, and Dante's broad back stomping after him. Ten minutes before the end Sandro was blocked with the ball crammed under his arm. His naked upper body looked like it was made of sand and water. He received a shoulder charge, toppled over, but came to his feet again. From the other side it was Marcello cornering him at the fence, but Sandro broke free.

The rest of his team was a tangled heap of bodies in the sand, trying to block the others. Alessandro saw a dumb looking guy with narrow eyes running up to him, from the other side he saw Dante. He ducked away, but his boots buried themselves into the sand which stopped him and he fell over onto the ball and gave a cry. "Get him!" Dante shouted, and Raniero was over him. A screaming whistling and booing answered; people had noticed that Raniero was attacking his own team member. But that was part of the fun.

Dante jumped upon Raniero and Alessandro felt all breath escaping his lungs. He heard something breaking and hoped it wasn't his back. And then his consciousness started to flicker.

Luca had jumped from his bench and was clenching his fists. He couldn't see Sandro anymore, he had vanished under a heap of bodies: team members coming to help, fighting uninhibitedly now with the opposition until the sand was bloody like the once olden days in the Roman Colosseum.

A sharp tone from the referee's whistle sounded and helpers tried to untangle the enraged men. At last they revealed a trio of bodies laying motionless in the sand: Alessandro, Dante and Marcello. The crowd groaned. Clarissa took in a sharp breath and clutched Niccolò's arm. He spoke soothingly to her. Luca clutched Giano's hand and his face was pale like a nightly ghost.

The first aiders cared for them, sprinkled them with cold water and patted their cheeks. Luca saw blood upon their bodies. While Marcello woke up quickly, his brother and lover were heaved up on stretchers and carried away.

   "Viva San Giovanni!" It sounded through the arena. "10 : 9 for the Quartiero di San Giovanni!"

   "Viva!"

Luca sat down. He couldn't see anything for the audience was still standing. He knew the calf was now taken by the team captain and carried proudly away.

   "Come", Giano said and struggled through the seats, following the first aiders. The Montori's followed. Alessandro had been placed in the shadow of the houses, still laying on the stretcher, but he was awake. He tried a grin already.

   "Hi gioia. Did we win?" he spoke nasally for his nose seemed to be broken.

Luca gulped. Alessandro's face was covered in blood, seeping from cuts in his eyebrow and from his nose. The ambulance man had pulled off his boots and Luca saw blue toes.

   "Where are my sons?" Clarissa asked nervously but she could see them already. Dante hadn't woken up, but Marcello was standing beside him with the beginning of a black eye. "Shit, we lost the match," he mumbled.

Clarissa gave him a punch. "That's all you can say when your brother's dying?"

   "Nobody's going to die, Signora", the first-aid man calmed her. "He will wake up any minute."

In all the jumble of limping and bleeding players coming for first aid Luca found Tristano by his side, tapping his shoulder. "Everything alright? How crap you didn't win. What's up with him?"

Luca shrugged and turned to Alessandro again. "You did win. But Dante got you in the end."

   "Has he said his last prayer?"

   "Stop talking, lad", the first-aid man said and dabbed his nose which was still bleeding. "We'll take you for an examination. Someone going with him?" he asked around.

   "Me." Luca hurried after them.

   "I hope we haven't lost our stone cutters", a deep voice said next to Niccolò who had followed his wife. He looked up and saw Coppo standing there. "Those guys, always ready for a fight, eh?"

Niccolò nodded absentmindedly. He didn't know what to say anyway. This day had blown him away completely. He still chewed hard on the declaration of his youngest sons. Homosexual for Christ sake. He hoped this was just a temporary glitch and everything would return back normal. Now the injuries to his older sons. Marcello looked somewhat all right, but Dante didn't seem to be waking up. God knew what the Gondi-boy had done to him. Niccolò's stomach clenched.

   "What's up with you, old chap?" Coppo asked. "Your boys will certainly soon be in good nick." Together they watched Dante being carried into one of the first aid cars. He nodded to Clarissa who climbed after them. Marcello sat upon a stool and got his eye examined.

Coppo dragged his friend away from the jumble. They were standing in the way anyway. Niccolò shot a wary glance at Giano who was besieged by Luca's school friends, visitors to the spectacle doubtlessly. Giano's "boyfriend" was standing to one side. A bitter taste filled Niccolò's mouth.

Coppo leaned against a pillar of the portico and enjoyed the coolness streaming from the stone. The crowd was still dancing around, embracing each other, waving banners, hooting and shouting. The costumes of the musicians were colourful drops in the distance as they marched away, accompanied by tourists who incessantly shot pictures of them.

Niccolò stared over to the blood soiled sand. "A bit animal like, don't you think", he mumbled, and Coppo nodded. An amused grin spread over his face. But then it fell when he thought about Raniero, his pupil that he couldn't get rid off. He hadn't the slightest idea why Raniero had played against his team mate Gondi. He cleared his throat. "Nico, one question, please."

Niccolò turned to his old friend.

   "Has Luca ever mentioned Raniero Riefoli? He's his class mate." Coppo's eyes went searchingly over the players still lined up or sitting on chairs, being examined. "There he is, the one with the missing front tooth". Coppo said somewhat gleefully.

   "Sure. He was sentenced for the fire at the recent football match. I thought that you'd dumped him from the apprenticeship."

Coppo's face twisted. "Unfortunately that wasn't enough of a reason to dump him. He needs a chance was all I heard. The whole palette of excuses: Art is improving his character. He needs to be socialized before he goes more and more downhill. Get rid of the bad company he keeps, et cetera, et cetera. Well, what he did today wasn't exactly bright. He fought against Gondi and this was his own team mate. Any idea why?"

Niccolò stared absentmindedly. In the distance he recognized his son Marcello who had received a tape around both wrists and been given a paper sheet.

Marcello nodded depressed. And suddenly he had the faint of an idea about the cause. Dante obviously had known about Luca's state. His homosexuality - Niccolò forced himself to think. No, his temporary confusion. Hadn't they done naughty and careless things together - he and Coppo - too, when they were young? Anyway. Dante had known but never said a word. But hearing that there was Giano too who shared this atrocity had been too much for Dante.

Apparently everybody knew... possibly even Raniero. "My youngest claims to be homosexual", Niccolò mumbled, his head bent down. Then he pulled out his pipe from his trouser pocket and a packet of tobacco and started to fill the bowl of the pipe. Coppo stared at him. "Scusa? Can you say that again?"

   "And my second youngest too!" Niccolò said louder than he intended, his fingers dropping a bit of the tobacco. "Probably everybody knew except us, Clarissa and me. Even Dante. And I think Raniero too. So," he took a deep breath and fumbled for his box of matches, "it's clear as daylight what Luca and the Gondi-boy do when Luca claims to stay overnight with a friend." Niccolò's dark eyes gleamed with scorn. Coppo must have pulled a pretty funny face when the pieces fell into a perfect picture. "And what is your problem exactly?"

   "Huh?" Niccolò had lit a match and sucked nervously on his pipe. The place was emptying. From somewhere he heard the bleating of the calf as it was being carried away.

   "What is your problem exactly, Nico?" Coppo repeated. "We'd never talked about it, but you must know that there's a reason I never married. You've never seemed interested in my private life, my friend. As long as someone doesn't present it in front of your nose it doesn't bother you. Am I right?"

   "But they are so young!" Niccolò exclaimed. Smoke clouded his head and Coppo wafted it away. "They don't know what they are doing. I mean, you and me in those old days… that doesn't count. Perhaps at least Luca will find the way back to a normal life. I do hope so."

Coppo's mouth grimaced in pain. He was deeply hurt. "I didn't think that you thought that way. You think my lifestyle unworthy, right?"

   "At least you don't brag about all your conquests."

   "But rather I live a withdrawn life with my partner. Good and very convenient for all of you, right?" Coppo's voice sounded angry for the first time. "You don't have to see me and being reminded of the "filthy action" one can have in bed. As long as you don't see it, it doesn't exist and you can sit at home with your decent family, enjoying decent people. Scusa, Nico, but I don't understand you."

More smoke clouded Niccolò's head as he was puffing away. Deep down he knew that Coppo was right.

   "And how on earth do you think Luca must feel, eh?" Coppo continued. “Have you told him, you love him?" Coppo tapped his shoulder. "Nico?"

   "No. I... Don't get me wrong, Coppo." Niccolò raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "I was never interested in what you were doing. I didn't want to know about it. If I didn't know it I wouldn't have to admit that my friend is..."

   "Gay. Say it. Say it one time for me and for your sons. It isn't just a phase you would rather forget about. You won't."

Niccolò's pipe was out. "Ok. Gay. My sons are gay. Satisfied?"

   "What does Clarissa say?"

Niccolò shrugged. "Nothing. Like me. Speechless."

Coppo grinned and shook his head. "Dear Gods, you really act as if one of yours has become sick and is doomed to die tomorrow. I can't understand you hetero's, really. What are you afraid of?"

   "Afraid of? Isn't it obvious? Every homosexual, sooner or later, is dying of AIDS."

Coppo hooted with laughter. "That's not seriously meant, is it?" He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his almost bald head. He had to tell this to Bruno when he got home. Bruno hated this bloody rumble on the sand. Too much of the testosterone, he said. And then he would provide Nico with an education, with a pile of books like "My son is gay - what now?" Certainly the Montori's were in need of that.

He took Niccolò's elbow and with him crossed the short distance to the still blue-blinking first aid cars. Marcello was chattering with his buddies. "I hope his hands are alright", Coppo said, looking at Marcello's bandaged wrists. "Luca, by the way, is pretty good at inventing motifs. I'd like to see if he's that skilful at cutting his own stones."

Niccolò said nothing, but inwardly he smiled.

A minute later he crouched in front of his son. "What's up with your hands, lad?"

   "I need to have an X-ray", Marcello said depressed. "I'm waiting for the next ambulance." He darted wary looks to the crowd around, more or less injured.

   "That was a heavy match. What's up with Gondi? Did he receive what he deserved?"

   "What do you mean?" Coppo asked, in a not exactly friendly voice.

Marcello peered up to his master, but said nothing. Coppo and Niccolò shared a look. "Your mother's gone with Dante. I'm coming with you."

   "Don't bother with that."

   "Listen", Coppo throw in, "I'll get my car and pick you up, d'accordo?"

Again Marcello gave Coppo a look, but he nodded finally. "Thanks", he mumbled.

* * *

Luca waited outside the examination room and sat on one of the black chairs in the small visitors room. Alessandro didn't give the impression that he was seriously hurt, except the many cuts from which he was bleeding. Though you never knew. The whole crowd had piled upon him and his brothers. What happened to Dante he didn't exactly care.

He heard quick footsteps in the hallway and got up from his chair and bumped into an absolutely desperate girl that he recognized as Leoni, the fellow student and old friend of Sandro. She still had the green and golden blocks upon her cheeks, the sign of the team she was supporting, smeared with tears now. "Where is he? What's happened to him?" she shrieked at Luca.

Luca blinked and struggled free from the hands she had tightly grasped around his shoulders. "He's all right I guess", he stuttered. Over her shoulder he recognised Sandro's uncle. He frowned when he saw Luca and tried to pull Leoni away.

   "Calm down, girl", Arrigo said. "Sit down and stop shrieking, for God's sake."

Leoni did as she was told, rummaging in her bag for a package of cigarettes. Arrigo eyed Luca whom he recognized as Alessandro's friend. "Any information, boy?" he asked.

Luca shook his head. "His toes didn't look too good", he mumbled, then he sat down, far away from Leoni who was puffing nervously away. He didn't know what to think of this. Why was she here and what made her so upset? Was there anything going on that Sandro hadn't told him?

A male nurse peered into the room. "Luca Montori?" he asked. Luca jumped up.

   "Your friend's all right. Broken nose, bruised all over his body, but we've taken care of the cuts. Both little toes are broken and the rest of the feet are bruised, but they'll heal. No internal injuries. We'll keep him overnight though." He smiled briefly and hurried away.

On days like today there would be a lot for him to do, Luca thought oddly as a wave of relief washed over him.

Ash fell from Leoni's cigarette when she jumped up "Wait", she called after the nurse. "Can we see him?" She hurried around the corner and vanished.

Luca looked at Arrigo who followed her. They would find out surely enough; he decided to wait.

*

   "Leoni? Can we talk a minute?" Arrigo caught Leoni's shoulders. The nurse had vanished and she stood desperately in the hallway, watching injured players being carried into rooms while their families made a spectacle cheering their injured relatives.

She turned. "Why?"

   "About Alessandro. Coffee?"

   "But..."

   "We can visit him later, come now."

He took her for a coffee into the cafeteria and watched her stirring the milk foam until she sipped at the cup. He had known Leoni since she had been a child.

The da Firenzuola's and the Gondi's had been friends and Sandro and she attended the same school, in the same class. He knew that Leoni had always been helplessly in love with his nephew. And there even had been a time when the family thought they could make a bond of marriage with the two families. But Sandro had turned to different ways.

   "Better?" he asked.

Leoni was puffing grey smoke and sobbing occasionally. "Why does he have to do such stupid things?" she asked.

Arrigo twisted his mouth. Hysterical women had always been a horror for him. But perhaps he could help her to make her and his own wishes come true.

   "He'll survive", he said shortly. "Getting along well with your study? I hear you've got a room next to Sandro's at the Campus?"

She nodded and sipped at her coffee cup. Her make up was smeared and she looked pretty deranged. What would she say to his offer?

   "Listen, Leoni", he spoke as smooth as he could. "I know you've had a crush on Sandro for a long time. Why haven't you been able to hold on to him? No", he bent over to her, "no need to be embarrassed. I know what's going on. I mean, when a man turns to other men he must be disappointed, don't you think?"

Leoni looked at him without comprehension. How was that for an odd statement? Leoni wasn't stupid enough to believe that it was a woman's fault that a man was gay.

   "You mean, I wasn't good enough, so he ran from me?" She looked doubtful. "He's got this boyfriend, Luca."

   "Yes, I know. But what can we do to change that? Have you heard about the last will of my brother?"

Leoni shook her head. "Well, Sandro's rich now, that's all I know."

Arrigo smiled thinly. "He could be rich. But there was a clause to the last will. As far as it looks now we'll lose some millions if Sandro continues to ignore it."

Leoni hiccupped and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

   "It's up to you to save the millions. Could you imagine being Sandro's wife?"

Leoni almost dropped her cup and stared at Arrigo with huge eyes.

   "All we need is a marriage certificate and a son."

   "I still don't understand." She lit another cigarette. Her fingers trembled.

  "Before Sandro reaches his 21st birthday he needs to be married and have a son, otherwise the money goes to the Dominican Church of Santa Maria Novella",

Arrigo said bluntly and cold. "It's your chance."

   "But..." she laughed and stopped abruptly. "That's a joke. Sandro doesn't want me. He's f.." she coughed, "he does it only with boys."

"Quite right." Arrigo's lips twisted into a nasty grin. "But you and me know how boys are. Horny, no matter who's lying in their bed. Am I right?"

Leoni hadn't enough of life-experience to agree. On the other hand... there were enough handsome guys at the university she could imagine sharing the bed of. After all she wasn't a virgin anymore. Sandro had made sure of that in the past.

   "So, can't you help things along a bit?" Arrigo's eyes were emploring.

   "You mean, make him drunk and sleep with him? And who knows that I'll get pregnant? And who tells you that I want a child, for God's sake? I'm eighteen!"

   "It wouldn't need to be your misfortune of course."

Now Leoni understood. Arrigo wanted to buy her. And she could do with a bit of extra money since her parents kept her short with that, those skinflints. Typical Florentines, she thought. Save money for later, so you'll have it when you're old. But Leoni was young and wanted it now, not later.

Heat welled up within her, reaching her cheeks. The idea of being Alessandro's wife made her glow. All the girls would envy her. She knew how they spoke about the most attractive guy of the university and there was no one who wouldn't like to have him in her bed. She stared into her empty coffee cup.

   "What do I have to do?"

Arrigo's grin spread slowly over his dark face. "It's up to you. Either you succeed with seducing him... or if that doesn't work, you can tell him, Arrigo has found the suitable woman for him. He will know what you mean."

   "You've talked about it already?"

   "A little, but with no real conclusion. He was unsure. He wants to keep the money for the family. Blood is thicker than water, as you surely know."

   "How much for me?"

   "Enough."

   "And I need a son?"

Arrigo nodded. Leoni calculated roughly how many attempts she would need if the first child should be a girl. But it was worth a try.

   "Why did his father set up such a nonsense of a clause?"

   "To keep the family alive. Alessandro is the last Gondi who can produce children."

   "And unfortunately he's gay", Leoni chuckled.

   "Exactly", Arrigo said in a stern tone. "So, do you agree?" He held out his hand. Leoni took it almost immediately.

   "And as for the son, Leoni, I think we can pass a girl too. The main thing is to have a child."

*

Alessandro was wheeled into the visitor's room and the nurse left him. Luca beamed.