Author's Note: this is a subplot that I cut from both "Esmerelda's Choice" and "The Sins of the Father." It just didn't fit in to either story, and would have made them more complicated than need be, but I really liked this particular idea, and I wanted to write about it. In "The Sins of the Father," one of my reviewers (Sunrise19) figured out that Giovanni's friend, Pierre, is gay. This is basically a short story about Pierre attempting to deal with the fact that he's in love with his best (male) friend.
"Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah." – Leonard Cohen
PROLOGUE, 1505…
He stared up into the darkness, listening to Theresa's steady, even breathing. His hand throbbed; the bandage was itchy. He sat up slowly, glancing down at Theresa as he did so. She stirred, but did not wake. Pierre's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and lighting a candle would only wake Theresa. He stared down at the bandage on his hand, squinting at it. The cut had not been a deep one, and the blood had not seeped through the clean white bandage. It itched, but he knew better than to scratch it. Scratching the wound would only irritate it.
He lay down and closed his eyes even though he knew that sleep would not come. He felt Theresa's shoulder brush against him, and he opened his eyes. Theresa moved in her sleep, curling up into herself, unconsciously moving away from him. He supposed that he should feel offended, that he should be upset. She was his wife, but she did not want him near her. Even in sleep she shied away from him. He didn't care. In time, she would grow to love him, and he her. Time and patience were all they needed, and Pierre had plenty for the both of them.
He closed his eyes. He knew that in time Theresa would grow to care for him, that she would eventually give herself to him, and this bothered him more than it should have. He'd known, he'd always known, that they would make love; as a married couple, it was practically a requirement. He did not find himself attracted to her, though, and he wondered if he would be able to function properly when the time came for him to make love to her. If he was a terrible lover, what would she say? Would she tell anyone? She was a woman, after all, and everyone knew how women gossiped. Who would she tell, and what would they think?
Pierre rolled over, taking care not to brush against Theresa. He thought of Giovanni and Katarina. They were asleep now, cradled in each other's arms. He found himself thinking of Giovanni's thin, muscular arms, and he tried in vain to wave the thoughts away. It was wrong to love Giovanni the way he did. It was wrong and unnatural, and he could very well die because of it. The townspeople would burn him at the stake. His own people, the Gypsies, would not be any more merciful; if anything, dying at their hands would be worse. He'd be stoned to death.
His mind continued to wander, and he let it. He found himself thinking of the soldier now (his soldier; he'd always thought of the man as his soldier). He wondered if his soldier ever thought of him. He doubted it. After all, his soldier was tall and handsome and married to a pretty young woman. They led a normal life. Still, Pierre wondered if he ever lay awake beside his pretty wife and thought about him.
…END OF PROLOGUE