Chapter 29
Worlds collide...
In his locker room Scipio went through the motions of warming up his muscles, which served at the same time to empty his head off all thoughts non-related to the most important fight of his life. He forgot about the fact that in a few days time with the start of his summer holidays he wouldn't be able to see neither Annia nor his friends for two months and that he would run away from his home and hide at Grandma and Renzo.
The plan had been settled the moment his father had announced that this year, indeed, his uncle would pick him up and take him to his mercenaries trainings camp as preparation for San Martino. Back then Scipio had become pale and his knees had started trembling, when childhood memories had resurfaced from deep below and created the same havoc the real experience had had when he had been only four. He still could see his uncle Cesare in his uniform, parading a squad of young men, listening unmoved to him in military stance. Even their eyes didn't follow him. They just stood there with opened legs, arms folded behind their backs and eyes starring into the nothing in front of them as they listened to his welcome speech. And he had seen in the course of the weeks he had spent there, how tall and strong men, who had looked indestructible, had crumbled down to his uncle's feet and begged for mercy with tear streaked faces, how they had been sometimes so exhausted that their comrades, close to collapse themselves had to carry them back to their tents. And it had been such a traumatic experience for the young boy that it had shut him up. He had tried to make himself invisible and make his uncle forget he existed by giving him no reason to direct his attention to him, by doing everything his uncle demanded of him.
He straightened up, when he felt his muscles loose and warm, ready to jump into action any second. His head was empty but for one thought – to win.
He heard knocking and the calling to step out. The time had come. In the hall he met the 17 years old Christiano Quaetani, champion in 2002 and 2003. Scipio knew he would do everything to win the third time in a row and score a new record before he moved up to the next age group in the league.
They didn't look at each other, didn't greet each other, but marched silently towards the gym that was packed up to the last seat.
Due to the overwhelming success of "Pirates of the Caribbean" fencing had becoming the new favourite sports and the fans hoped to see as spectacular fights as Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom had shown in the movie. This hope hadn't been fulfilled, but still the hype had generated stars for the Venetian fandom. Stars like the champion Christiano Quaetani and Scipio Massimo.
Both entered the gym and mad applause greeted them. While Christiano was accepting the ovations as a matter of course, Scipio smiled broadly, spread his arms, in one hand his facial protection, in the other his epee and bowed gracefully before he waved up to the spectators who waved back. Encouraging shouts for both of them could be heard before the referee put an end to it and motioned to Scipio and Christiano to step up to him.
The opponents dressed in their white protective gear stood close to each other, but not too close, and listened to the referee admonishing them to fight fair.
Scipio, who had entered the tournament as underdog had risen to a charismatic shooting star with every fight he had won, displaying fairness, grace, a lion's heart, skill and a good sense of humour. His good looks also hadn't hurt his case. Christiano felt, it would be good to have the spectators in his corner from the psychological point of view.
"Hey, Massimo, try not to disappoint your daddy for a change?" Christiano tried to unnerve his foe and make him look ridiculous and weak.
But Scipio only looked at him blandly before he bent over to him a bit.
"Might be worth loosing, Quaetani." He whispered. "I hear your sister gives good consolation." He gave a cursory yet poignant glance at the nether regions of his opponent.
"You bastard!" roared Christiano and tried to lunge at the other boy but was jerked back by the wire-rope that was already hooked at his back. He barely managed to keep his balance as he ungracefully stumbled backwards. Here and there laughter erupted. The referee scolded Christiano with harsh words to behave himself like a gentleman. Scipio smirked before he marked one up on an invisible chalk board.
He got into position, mockingly he rose his epee to his face to greet his foe in the old manner before he glanced over to his coach, who nodded encouragingly.
"May the best man win." The referee announced.
They put on their facial protections. Full concentration replaced any smiles or frowns.
Right from the start it turned out to be one fierce fight, which kept the spectators on the edge of their seats. In a way this was even better than the movie fights. These moves weren't carefully choreographed and trained over and over again. This was real life. Both opponents were highly skilled, showed lightning quick reflexes and an equal determination to win. The audience followed their every move, listening breathless for every beep when one was hit.
Especially one man in the back close to the exit couldn't take his eyes off of the fight. Lorenzo felt a surge of pride that grew with every hit his son inflicted upon his opponent. Maybe the time had finally come, when Scipio stood up and fought back, he hoped with all of his heart.
And then time dropped down to mere seconds. The gym crackled with suspension and anticipation. Fingernails were dug into handkerchiefs, jackets, handbags, palms and thighs and occasionally the neighbour's underarm. The crowd held collectively their breath. There! A particularly vicious attack forced Scipio to retreat, but then he dived under Christiano's epee in a spectacular and impossible move and managed to hit him at his right foot. A beep indicated the validity of this hit and was drowned out by the clock.
Time was over and the new Fencing Champion of the Veneto in 2004 was Scipio Massimo with a lead of one hit.
Electricity discharged, people jumped up from their seats. The gym resembled a boiling pot. Scipio ripped of his facial protection and his arm shot up in the eternal victory pose and jumped up high. He whooped overjoyed. His coach lunged at him to lift him up into the air, shouting he had known all the time Scipio could make it. Looking up to where his gang had been seated faithfully during every fight, Scipio saw them clapping madly and shouting. Annia sent him kisses and indicated she would give him one hell of a hug later and make his victory only sweeter. Little Bo tried unsuccessfully to push through the crowd to get to him. Teenage girls close to fainting screamed exited, younger boys had a new idol and tried to remember every step and move to copy him later, and others simply thought he was one really cool guy. The looser stood alone and forgotten for the moment. Disappointment and fury were etched into his face.
Lorenzo felt happy and close to bursting with pride. His son! Just now he observed through the sea of heads and bodies how he sent with a broad grin a kiss up to the upper tiers. Lorenzo tried to follow its direction and for a moment the sea parted and he managed to catch a glimpse of a good-looking beaming brunette boy waving madly back down. He felt sucker-punched. He didn't hear his assistant answering the call he had placed to make him order a table at the finest restaurant of Venice to celebrate later. Absent-minded he pushed the red button to disconnect. His only son….he couldn't….he wouldn't…with a boy? But probably he was just sending a kiss into the faceless crowd to thank for their support. The crowd in front of him quieted down and sat down again. The MC stepped forward and handed the small trophy over to the sweaty but happy Scipio and declared him officially champion. Lorenzo dropped his head. What should have been one of his most happy moments in life, was tarnished by ugly doubts. He held back until the crowd had left the gym and made his way to the locker rooms. On his way he passed the young Quaetani, who hung his head and managed to see how a male shadow slipped into the locker room of his son. Standing in front of the door, he could hear muffled voices. His son and another voice that had a foreign accent that reminded him of German. He paused to listen in.
„...thought, we'd go and stay the night on the beach. Have a campfire and celebrate. What do you think?"
Lorenzo pressed his ear against the wood, but couldn't understand his son's answer. Soft laughter could be heard from the tedesco.
"You were fantastic, Scipio! You had me sitting at the edge of my seat, close to a heart attack. I'm so proud of you! You did it! There was never a doubt in my mind that you wouldn't make it."
Lorenzo opened the unlocked door and he heard his son clearly now.
"I wanted it, so I did it."
Taking in the sight he froze. Besides the bench stood his son clad only in a loosely knotted towel around the hips and another towel in his hand he had obviously used to dry his hair. Drops clung to his body. And close to him stood another boy, the very boy he had seen his son sending a kiss up to. His hand lay comfortable on his son's naked shoulder. Both shared a smile, but twirled around, when they saw him. They dropped their smiles and fear and guilt appeared on their faces like Lorenzo interpreted the emotions he read in their faces.
to be continued...when the stars of the entire Universe rearrange themselves for a father...
