On Mount Alyppia

Home's Plight

    Nothing ever seemed to satisfy Assuntina. She grilled him for every little detail, so thoroughly that he barely noticed how close they were until the carriage jolted to a stop at the gate of his house. His house, a sprawling villa grander than Gregor Morcelli's, and the reason he had been so eager to go and see the girl, and distract himself for a few happy hours. He glanced at Assuntina.
    "Stay and keep me company?" he pleaded.
    Assuntina gave him a sympathetic grimace and squeezed his hand, but shook her head. "I'm to be tested on Geography," she sighed. "I've stayed too long already. Strength, Leo," she coaxed.
    Leonid gave an apathetic nod. He muttered a goodbye and jumped down from the carriage, walking slowly through the gate.
    The house was still as a tomb, and at midday with the curtains drawn, as dark as one too. Sunlight made his father's headaches worse. People crept through the hallways on tiptoes, speaking in hushed voices as if death grinned at every dusty corner. Raise your voices, Leonid wanted to shout. Don't invite death where it is not wanted.
    Leonid shucked his sweaty shirt as he headed for the bathhouse. Maids glanced at him a he went, whispering to each other. Leonid ignored the. Nothing is wrong, he said to himself, because maybe if he said it enough times he would start to believe it. Nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong...
    "Sir?"
    Leonid sucked in a breath and turned his head. "Yes?"
    "Your father wished to see you," his father's manservant said.
    Of course he did. Leonid raised his eyebrows, playing it coy. "Are you sure he meant me? There are five... four of us, you know."
    "Yes, sir. He mentioned you by name."
    Leonid pulled his sweaty shirt back on, deciding he didn't care if he stank, and his father deserved it anyway. He followed the man through the hallways. They passed his brother Lorenzo's shut door door. Leonid pointedly looked ahead, not sparing it a glance. He hadn't been there since the last time he had spoken to his brother. Death hung so heavy in those rooms it was hard not to choke on it.
    Leonid's father sat at his desk, squinting at a paper. He looked up at Leonid. "Leo," he said. "Fair time you joined us, my boy."
    Leonid walked stiffly to his desk and gave a shallow bow. "You called for me."
    "I did," his father said, fiddling with his quill. He looked, somehow, even more frail than he had that morning. "Have you thought some more."
    Leonid looked up, meeting his father's eyes. They were hard. "I am not getting married," he said.
    His father scoffed. "Obstinate as ever," he muttered. "My health is failing. Why, son, can you not simply do what I ask of you?"
    "Enzo's been gone only a few months," Leonid said. "Why are you so eager to get rid of me?"
    His father's eyes darkened. "That is not the same thing," he said, his voice deathy calm. "The lady is lovely, and you'll get along fine."
    "I've not gotten along with her the ten years I've known her," Leonid said stubbornly. "I will not leave home so soon after Enzo's death." Or ever, he wanted to add.
    His father shook his head. "You'll have to come round sooner or later," he warned. "What have you been dallying with, then? Any new sculptures?"
    Leonid bit his lip at the mocking tone. "I haven't sculpted in a while," he mumbled.
    His father looked surprised. "Well, you've been doing something," he noted. "You're sweating like a warhorse."
    Leonid glanced down. "Assuntina talked me into joining her fencing lessons," he muttered. He didn't have to say the real reason.
    His father put his papers down and looked at him skeptically. Then he threw his head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
    Leonid clenched his fists.
    "I never thought I'd see the day," his father gasped out. "Where you any good?" he coaxed.
    Leonid shrugged, hoping he wasn't blushing.
    His father shook his head and picked up his quill, still chuckling slightly. Leonid waited for him to say something else. He didn't. He had lost interest, it seemed.
    His father didn't look up as Leonid spun on his heels and walked out.