First of the Order
Une: Florence
Lucretia Borgia walked into the deserted cinderblock building, breathing a sigh of relief as she walked into the eerie fluorescent light and set down the basket of laundry. She was safe here. Two gunshots sounded in the distance of the New York inner city. Well, safer, at least. She poured soap and clothing into a washer, and inserted the two quarters. Another washer filled the same way…and there was nothing to do but wait. She would rather not be here, but the entire family was working, and this was the only time she could get away to do the laundry. But things would be different once Papa got a real job and their American dreams came true. Now she would say Ave's to pass the time.
Antonio hunched back behind the shelf and listened as Milo Rambaldi tried to convince Fabiono Giotto that his design would succeed while all the others failed. The matter of the Cathedral of Florence might finally be settled. The architect and craftsman's unusual design sounded preposterous to the 10-year-old's years. Who would attempt to construct such a large dome with no scaffolding? But the conviction with which he argued it made the boy root for him to finally prevail. Besides once the matter of the cathedral was settled Signor Giotto might notice his illegitimate son and send him off to school. Anything would be better than the beatings given by Signora Giotto's son Emilio. As Rambaldi expounded on the reasons why Lorenzo Ghiberti's design would fall crashing down Antonio's mind tried to puzzle once again why Giotto ignored him so.
The reasons why Signora hated him were plain. He was the son of Signor's beautiful Irish mistress, Allene. And Allene had given Giotto a several daughters before her son, while Signora had been childless for years until the birth of her young Emilio. But it did not explain why his Father ignored him so. He'd asked his mother earlier in the afternoon and her answer still puzzled him.
"Keenan," she'd said, using his Gaelic name, "I am not Italian, you are not Italian. And now that Emilio is born, Signor Giotto has no use for his illegitimate son. But perhaps when the matter of the Dome is solved, he will apprentice you to some craftsman or send you to school."
With those thoughts in mind, Antonio had slipped into the library to ponder his predicament, only to be caught unawares by the entrance of Giotto and this architect Rambaldi. If he was caught here, he would be beaten again, so he pressed his back to the shelf and listened.
Finally he heard his father say, "You have my vote. I do not see how your preposterous scheme will work, but I am convinced the others will fail. The Dome must be completed and your way may work." A few more words he didn't catch were said before the door slammed shut and Antonio slipped from his hiding face. Right into the sight of Milo Rambaldi.
"And who are you?" the architect asked.
"I'm Antonio, Signor Giotto's bastard son." The boy said quickly. "Will you not tell him you found me here? They will beat me."
"Will they?" the esteemed old craftsman said. "Not this time." Antonio sighed in relief. "So you are a boy who comes here among books and designs unbidden. Do you know where the plans to the Cathedral are kept? Signor Giotto said I might look over them."
"Yes, they're right here." He quickly walked to one the back shelves and pulled a rolled up design.
"Do you really mean to build the dome without supports?" he handed Rambaldi the plans.
"I do, my boy."
"But how?" Antonio stopped himself quickly, asking questions of his elders was generally frowned upon and he'd already asked two. But Rambaldi had no hesitancy to answer.
"By not building a dome. That would be impossible. Instead, we will build 8 cupolas, and join them so smoothly and gradually that the appearance will be equal to that of a dome."
"But wouldn't the winds still cause it to fall?" Antonio was rapidly loosing his caution around this friendly artist.
"Yes they would, if I hadn't included small holes and fluting. Look here." He pointed to his own design plans. Antonio bent down and saw what the architect meant. He also spotted the large lantern that would mount on top of the dome.
"Why is this so big?"
"Because it must be. The lantern holds the cupola's together, its weight is necessary, otherwise it would be too unbalance and the slightest wind…" Rambaldi continued to explain the design to the young boy long into the afternoon. When the servants called Rambaldi to dinner they found Antonio with him and began to scold. But Rambaldi simply said Antonio was his new assistant. He proved true to his word, and when work began the next month on the Cathedral, Antonio was always at Rambaldi's side. He brought whatever the architect asked for and listened to every word he spoke.
"Antonio, come speak with me." The boy was startled out of his melancholy by Giotto's request. Rambaldi was leaving tomorrow, the work on the dome completed a month ago, and the 12-year-old was bemoaning his departure. Only the interior remained to be finished and Rambaldi left that to the painters and their frescos. With his mother's death six months ago, he had no other friends in Florence.
"Rambaldi spoke with me yesterday about you." Giotto began. "He said you had a great deal of talent and he was very fond of you. He also asked if he could take you with him when he goes to Venice to work on the palace of Signor Borgia." Antonio could hardly contain his delight at the calm words.
"I am inclined to let you go with him," Giotto continued. "It would make more peace for this household and provide you with a trade. He even spoke of adopting you. If you wish that, I will sign the papers for it when you return to Florence next year for the dedication. Do you want to leave with him?"
"I do." The boy tried to be calm.
"Then you should pack your things. Rambaldi leaves in the morning."