Chapter 5: Responsibilities (II)

He woke up, rubbing his own eyes, knowing what today would mean. They woke up early, so that they could visit the tenants today. He rolled out of bed even if he wasn’t used to it. Last night had been a late night, after all.

“It’s great that you’re awake.”

He had asked him to wake him up, regardless. So that he could go.

Once he put his feet on the ground, he got up. There were so many things to do today, traveling was often hard.

Gennaro went to fetch his clothes, dressing him once again. Breakfast was already there, he'll eat before departing his room. 

His valet was going to follow him, mostly outside, as he was comfortable, eager.

“Would you like it more?” He asked.

“It’ll feel more like my home, if I’m honest.” His family had been from the mountains, and as a third son, they had little resources. So, he started work here, as a boy, and worked up now to be Lorenzo’s valet.

He was a couple of years older than him, and although he carried them out faithfully, Lorenzo knew this was a man forced into it by life. Just like he was, and they both had embraced it.

But he never did. Perhaps all his travels were a part of his childhood, after all. But one question remained.

“Did you choose this life?” He asked.

One that he never did, for it was never his worry. It satisfied him with the path laid out for him to become a scholar until someone painfully ripped away it. Now it was beyond his reach. And he understands it may be the same for him too.

To have to do something they didn’t want to do, just to survive. Lorenzo could tell, having known him for so long.

He hesitated, but he answers. “Yes.”

“How did you feel about it?” He asked. “Whatever you tell me would be in confidence. I will tell no one else. I guess I realized I was never alone when I was forced.”

And he kept on not wishing to face the truth when he was. He kept on delaying, perhaps buying a bit more time. But if he wanted to change anything, he would need to do it now.

“Who does?” Gennaro lets out a laugh, before agreeing. “But I have a roof over my head and three meals a day. There’s not much for me to think about. Though I find it strange that you never asked me that.”

He was right. Lorenzo never cared much as long as the books. But he remembered his mother’s words. If he doesn’t learn to listen, he’ll change nothing but himself. “I know. But I guess I feel it, but for you, it’s dire.”

“My siblings, they rely so much on the money I send home everyday though it’ll be fine, but the extra wages help,” Gennaro said, telling him. “I think you should start eating, Padroncino. “

He had not touched bread.

“I’m not sure whether there’s enough time for a midday meal.”

“It explains why this is so hearty,” he said, taking up a knife and biting into it. But of course, he was interested because he knew it now that they had things they could not escape.

He was fortunate.

“Do you feel envious at how I can devote myself to anything I wish?” He asked.

“It’s hard to say, but we carry the burden of our families on our shoulders,” he said. “I have to feed and cloth them, but you will have to shoulder everything. To do it all correctly so that they can continue to live those lives.”

To preserve it, but there is a cost. They have no freedom in who they marry; they are not free to act. There is always a price.

“Do you wish you were me?”

“Of course, it’s hard not to. But I know it’s unlikely to happen.”

“What did you dream of when you were young?” He asked. “Just for jokes, and maybe if you have the time, I’ll help you.”

He has the opportunity. It feels right that he tries to help others, too. That perhaps he can understand how to fulfill the desires of others, so that he could one day change reality.

“I would want to write better than I do, which is just my name.” He admits putting a hand. “That’s a selfish wish of mine. Maybe I could write a book. I learned how to do it, since my parents had some means. But it stopped.”

And Lorenzo picked him out for that reason. He read rather well.

Perhaps he could do something for the boy.

Lorenzo smiled. “Is that why you keep asking me what they mean?”

“Yes, I’m glad my faith in you was not misplaced.” He smiled at him.

“I always liked you asking me questions. It felt good.” He did that too. It was something he did, he liked to see.

He was glad of them.

“Have you ever served in other households?”

“None, but the master never asked me what I thought.” It was a truth. “It’s unusual, because it’s not important to know my dreams at all.”

And there is a sense of personal betrayal if people learned they had other wishes.” Other than serving them, but even Lorenzo thought it’s nonsensical.

There was no way that they had nothing. And perhaps it’s only the injustice of life that brings them here. That makes them unable to chase it, and in a better world, they all would.

“But thank you,” he said, before passing him.

He could only make it a little easier but not totally lessen or change it.

It pained him, as he walked out, before finding his father ready. He was standing there, ready for it to leave.

It was traveling, for being in Sarponne exposed him to the elements that most would wrangle with in their life. But here, he’ll listen to those who truly knew him.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I know what I’ll say or not much at all,”

“I ask about their lives and maybe their hopes as it is my duty to do so.” Cosimo kept his own silence. “And because they are living under my care, and sometimes they share interesting things.”

He was a guardian of their livelihoods. That was how he saw himself.

“Even the farmers?”

“They know a lot, as they are. A different world they inhabit from us,” he said. “I find it difficult to relate to them, but I know it is because of our lives.”

But if he wanted change, he would need to step into their world, their shoes, and understand their struggles.

“I always listened to their ways, because I do not know better.” Cosimo closed them.

“I do not intend to just keep things as they are. But I need to listen to them to know why.”

That was the most important question. People rarely did things for the sake of it. There was always a reason behind it.

The rest of the carriage ride shown him observing the countryside, the houses, farms all around. Livestock being raised, and small brick houses at the corners. They were smaller than most villas, and often just more run down.

He kept his silence until they stopped, and he got down from the carriage. It was close to the church, where they often gave out alms, whether it was food, clothes or money to any. He stared all over the fields as he stood in his finery, making sure to not step on any of the seeds.

For planting season was just beginning. Stressa was not the coast that most thought it was, it was in fact more inland, closer to the city,

He used to ride through them, feeling it, while chasing somewhere else. But now, he no longer found it fun any longer. He stood with his hands in his pockets as his father went.

However, it felt personal. He didn’t wish to intrude.

He could see a cow going around, as a girl went to grab him before taking him back. “Is there any reason you’re here?”

“I’m here because my father is.”

“You must be the lord’s son,” he said.

His father visited them, cared for them if they were ill. And he liked to do so personally. She knew.

“I’ll come back and see you once I’m done milking.” She went back, her hair a little disheveled.

And then he waited a good while. Perhaps he could enter, but somehow he stopped himself.

Once she came right back, having put her back.

“I’ll take you to see my father.” She led him down the pavement steps, past the farm that they hard.

It was humble, compared to the simple luxury of his home or the grandiosity of Sarponne. A table, a few chairs.

“It’s just Papa and I.” She asked him to take a seat. “Why didn’t you choose to follow him?”

Before joining them, their mother, of course, quickly turned and served them something. As she quickly went to work.

“That girl is sometimes too friendly.”

“She was quite nice,” he said.

Cosimo gave an eyebrow but knew he was shy. “So, how’s the farm going along?”

“Thank you, again, for lifting the rent on me last year. During winter, I wasn’t sure what we would have done to survive if it wasn’t for it.” The man held his hand.

“I could do it, or rather, there was enough that year that I could offer relief, so thank the other farmers, too.” His father had postponed the rent for him/.

“It saved the family. We worried we were thrown off the land otherwise.”

And that was a worry. They would starve or find a worse deal than they had.

Lorenzo looked, realizing something. They were by far the most tied to fortune. If there was one wrong harvest, everything would go wrong, and they could starve. One wrong move, and it was destitution. Lorenzo knew it was the same for someone of his rank and status, just a little harder.

“I’m here to just learn.” He admitted. “How to become a lord?”

“It’s time for him to know what you do, isn’t it?” The man pointed out.

Cosimo gave a smile and nods. “I’m teaching him all that I know. I’m getting old and it’s good to have someone to continue it and handle the matters.”

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Because one day, his father would not be here anymore.

“Indeed, it’s difficult, like pulling teeth sometimes. But it’s worth it in the end.”

For he knew it better, for he had no other person to delegate it to. No tutors, or schools or teachers.

“You’re quite right.” Cosimo told him with a smile.

---

He sat in a refurbished room, one that was given to him. This wouldn’t have been his until now, and he pushed his favourite books, often staying here till the wee hours. He read once he was done and joined them down for dinner.

There were good days where all things completed with spare time; days where he only wanted to read instead of doing anything. And today was the latter, where he fought himself to focus on just getting through a tedious report.

He often read in the evenings after his father retired, either here or going back to his room.

And there was nothing getting him outside of a funk that he was in, not dreaming of a youth that he had, or of the future he would leave. All he could think was that piece of philosophy that he had read was interested him and he wanted to know more.

But he could not. He promised not to run away, and he had his reasons not to. But today, it was failing him. He leaned back, maybe just a brief respite of thinking. With his journal, he could write some musings to clear his head.

Then he heard a knock. He looked up, with Gennaro going.

“Alright.” He put it down before going, always preferring books to any human interactions.

He opened it, wondering who it was, until he knew he had to look down as he was seeing air. There was only one child here right now: Federico. And he was right. He dressed in a suit with breeches and a smile.

He went down to meet his eye. “What do you need to ask?”

“I wanted to ask you something. Cecelia always said you knew it better. Something about the classical languages.” He was nervous, fidgeting with his papers.

He had learned a lot of it so that he could read the texts of the classical language in their original language or a suitable translation.

"Has she been helping you?”

He nodded. “With literature and just about everything else. Except this. Could you help me, please?”

Cecelia knew literature the best, for she had her own literary ambitions and could help. But he had to work, he had to tell him.

Then, he felt a tugging on his coat; Federico, staring at him with big, hopeful eyes. It was the same way he used to look at his elder brother.

Lorenzo gave just one glance back to the work, and how he was just moping anyway, intending to daydream. There really wasn’t that option left.

He gave a sigh before standing aside so that Federico could pass. But before he could say anything, his brother already rushed past him and took a seat on his coach. He stared, with only a nostalgic smile.

“He really wanted to see you. I hope it’s not a bother.” The governess had come, a woman with light blonde hair and sweet blue eyes.

He shook his head. “Just get on with your duties. I’ll fetch you once he’s complete.”

“Before I go, I should pass you his things. The boy was in such a hurry he forgot them.”

He waited and gladly took it before closing the door.

“So, are you just going to not tell him?” Gennaro asked.

“When he figures it out.” It’s good that he has Vanna with him or always following him.

But first, he joined him, with the papers hiding behind his back.

“I wanted to ask Papa, but he seemed to be busy and they kept me away. He was meeting someone.”

Lorenzo had an idea. It was probably the steward. “Does he help you a lot?”

It had been a whirlwind these few weeks, where he spent it trying to understand his responsibilities. He didn’t devote that much time to speaking with his family at all.

“He likes to help me and watches me as I do everything. He’ll also teach me things sometimes and talk about his life.”

That had been something special reserved only for his elder brother, but with him no longer being a boy, perhaps he relished being a father and sought to recreate them with his youngest son.

He banished those thoughts from his head. He had to think about his brother. Since he was asking for help.

“How about we get started?” Lorenzo asked.

Federico got down before realizing. “Can you call back Vanna?”

He put it out right in front of his eyes. “She already knew you forgot.”

Federico took it before blushing and taking a seat on the sofa. He grabbed a spare inkpot for him to use.
Then he showed him the things he needed help with. Rudimentary grammar on the classics and philosophy, but he was around eight years old. But he seemed to be quite bright if he was doing so. But his father always expected them to push themselves.

He taught Federico the philosophy first, mostly the boy listening intently to him.

“Why do people find philosophy interesting?” He asked. “I like rhetoric a little more.”

“I liked it, it was the beginning of progress. Before there was science, or a definitive version, philosophy was what it was called. It was perhaps to understand our world better, to know why it is happening and to understand it logically.”

Even now, so many of life remained wonders, mysteries or perhaps miracles. Lorenzo never quite felt it was right.

“Was it meant to understand the world which we live in apart from how God created it?” He asked.

He would have read the scriptures, a rite of passage since their youth. Religion was a crucial part of their life, and who they were. Though Lorenzo may have held his doubts, but he could not openly question it. Not when it dominated everything.

Why would a wonderful creature cause death? Why would they not eradicate it? Where did they go after death?

He had that question, ever since he had seen death for the first time, of someone whose time was not up.

Now Federico was still young, and he wouldn’t doubt it. But Lorenzo already held much doubts in his mind.

“Yes, or rather, to understand why he did it. They’re all perfect and unique after all,” he said.

Not wishing to stir the pot by passing on his beliefs, even when he wasn’t too certain. Or wishing to get banned by Federico’s tutors for influencing him? This was when he was older, and able to tell the truth from the lies.

He and Cecelia often held much interest, often debating about life and death and symbolism. And just why they did it, but not with Federico, who was too young to understand it.

Federico continued to write, satisfied with all these answers. So, Lorenzo headed back to work.

This cleared his head and went back to continuing. Now, it was much easier to focus, to think, and then to please.

“I’m done,” Federico said, giving him an embrace before thanking him.

“I have spent little time with you lately, so it’s easy.” He put a hand on his shoulder before they broke away.

“Papa always said that you were trying to adjust, and soon you’ll be able to spend time with me,” he said. “Papa always liked to teach me how to ride a horse instead of this.”

That sounds like his father. “He’s a soldier, but you can always ask me anything. Even if it’s not immediate, I will make time for you.”

He was too occupied, but perhaps this

Federico gave a toothy grin, happy to hear it.

He was just easily forgetful and occupied.

Gennaro opened the door, only to hear the welcoming footsteps of Cosimo. Cosimo’s stern gaze looked, and only softened once he met Federico’s eyes, surprised to see him here.

Federico ran up to see him, eagerly.

Cosimo scooped his son up. “So, this is where you’ve been? I thought I told you not to bother him. So, why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“I wanted to ask him a few questions, since sister already said that brother knew best for these topics.”

“It must be the classical languages and philosophy, for that is what your brother excels at, for studying that in university.”

Cosimo turned to face him. “How do you feel about it? “

“No, I enjoy having him around.”

His father teased his nose, just a little, before putting him down and sending him on his way. Just before Federico ran out, he gave his brother a brief glance.

The mood dropped a little, for Federico was no longer here.

“What did you get done?” Cosimo asked, glancing over his papers.

Lorenzo had one which was finished by luncheon, and a second one which was half done. He gave a smile.

“Some, I got some of it done.”

“I can excuse you for wanting to care about Federico—you’ve been doing well.”

That was praise he didn’t expect to hear. But above all, he wasn’t proud of himself for how long he took to handle it. “I have something to confess: most of these things bore me.”

“It bored me when I first started, too. I was interested in going off to war, to be a hero, with foolish dreams of glory. I never cared about it until it was too late when I was about to become lord, and my father was gone. You’re a better man than me in that regard.”

He didn’t know. “Also, I think you got something wrong.”

Lorenzo went to fix it. He always felt a little conscious.

“It’s a minor one.” He looked. “I know that this is entirely unlike who you are. You're someone who wants to dip your head in the books all days, to never leave, to have another care in the world.”

“Except I was born and inherited responsibilities I don’t intend to run away from,” Lorenzo said, but he would not concede yet. Maybe in the future it might change.

“But it is possible to one day look at it from the other side and enjoy it. Once you know.”

“Once I know, I’ll be able to figure out how to save time for myself.”

Cosimo only had a proud smile, one of the first he’s seen.

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