Post by Amadeo Vittore on May 22, 2005 15:35:14 GMT -8
Thursday, June 2nd, 1505. 5:22 PM
The Vittore House
Milan, Italy
It was early evening in the late spring and the sun still sat high amongst the light fluff of sparse cumulus clouds as Amadeo made his way past the planter boxes which lined the streets of Renaissance Milan and his family’s walkway. His wife, Christiana was sitting with their two children. His four year old daughter, Anna-Maria was in her lap while their son, Donato poked at the cracks in the cobblestone walkway with a stick. A warm breeze blew through the small garden and brought with it the scent of the nearby sea. Days such as this seemed common during the Renaissance. They were those days when all seemed right in the world.
Christiana leaned down and whispered to her children, never taking her eyes from her husband, “Papa’s home.”<br>
“Papa!” his children rushed to him as his wife smiled and he scooped up his daughter, laughing.
“Oh, you’re such a big girl!” he looked down at his son, gently stroking the boy’s hair, “And how is my little knight? Did you slay any dragons today?”<br>
“Si, papa. And I fought the Giant on the hill, too.” The boy’s eyes shined with light and life and Amadeo knew some form of happiness even in his hard work as a craftsman.
“Oh really? And who won?” The father smiled at his son as they began to make their way towards the house, meeting Christiana in between.
“I did, but he got away.”<br>
“Well I’m sure,” Amadeo paused mid sentence in order to lightly kiss his wife and hand her their daughter, “you’ll get him next time. But right now I think it’s time for dinner.”<br>
The evenings, even in summer, seemed to pass quickly during the Renaissance. It seemed that the entirety of the world was full of motion, authors, inventors, artisans, philosophers and scholars were all working feverishly on some project or another. Likewise, it saw the young Amadeo dabbling in politics and religion and he found a comfort in those books.
After dinner was over, Amadeo and Christiana put their children to bed, telling them a story and tucking them in before they went to sit out in their garden and gaze up at the stars. There was something inspiring about the stars above Milan in those years, long before electric lights and in the air Amadeo could small wood smoke from chimneys and the sweet smell of jasmine on the wind. It was one of those nights when it seemed that the world was genuinely good again.
For hours the two sat, idly talking about hopes and dreams. Amadeo dreamed of becoming a senator, or at least getting into local politics as his father-in-law had. His wife dreamed of a larger home with more room to raise a family, perhaps a farm. In the early hours of the morning, the two retired to their bed. Amadeo had much work to do the next day building several pieces of public furniture for the Pallazo Lombardi and his wife would need much rest in order to keep up with the children.
Monday, June 6th, 1505. 3:30 PM
The Craftsmen’s Hall
Palazzo Santo Gabriel del Caeli, Milan, Italy
The sun rested high in the late afternoon sky still, beaming down through the dirty paned windows of the workshop. It was one of those hot, humid days where the world was irritable and it was best to keep one’s mouth shut. Two days ago, Amadeo and his crew had delivered the pieces due to the Palazzo Lombardi. Now the young Italian was down on bended knee, polishing the arms of a newly commissioned piece. The polish rag in his hand glided neatly over the surface of the wood and he took care not to stain the velvet cushioning with the oil.
Amadeo stopped for a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. He’d been working almost non-stop for the past three hours with as little as a few minutes to breath. His shop had been commissioned to create a new set of dining chairs for the duke and Amadeo had jumped at the honor. Fifty chairs were to be made ready within two months. Amadeo was certain he and his crew could complete the chairs, possibly sooner, if they kept at the task.
For the chairs, Amadeo had chosen the most elaborate of carving patterns in hopes that the Duke would be pleased with their work and consider Amadeo and his team for future projects. The Duke paid well and was, at least by all appearances, a staunch supporter of the Church.
All around him, Amadeo could hear the sounds of honest labor. Hammers, saws, jokes about turks and the Ottoman empire that was now dwindling in size. Amadeo found few places that brought him more pleasure than his work and the Renaissance was a time of two, intangible but ever present forces: faith and logic. It was the age of rebirth and man was reinventing himself. Since the beginning of the 15th century man had found new ways of entertaining himself. Their were painters, inventors, poets, philosophers, scientists, composers and everything in between and now the average man could become any, if not all of them.
Much to the Church’s dismay, numerous libraries opened up, their halls filled with books that might inevitably cast doubt upon the supremacy of God or the existence of heaven. Faith, even in the short span of a century, had gone from being something tangible to something that questioningly existed in most people. And that faith had been replaced by rationale. There must be an explanation for the great mysteries of life and man was determined to find them.
Amadeo returned his focus to the wood, continuing to polish as the hours passed. The more chairs were completed, the more polish he applied. He’d finished two himself that day, and as the sun began to go down, the crew closed the shop down and began making their way to their homes. It had been nearly fifty years since any one had seen a Vampire in the open, but that didn’t stop the people from remembering. Amadeo himself had never seen one, but he remembered the stories told by his parents, and the presence of Vampires, even if it wasn’t true, was enough to keep a person looking over their shoulder on the streets at night.
It was 7:22 when Amadeo passed through the door of his home and Christiana rushed to greet him, “I was worried.”<br>
“I’m sorry, We were trying to get as many chairs done for the Duke as possible. He wants fifty ready in the next two months.”<br>
“I know you want the best for us Amadeo, but the nighttime streets aren’t safe. Please just tell me you’ll be home a bit sooner tomorrow.”<br>
“I promise Christiana. Is dinner ready?”<br>
“Almost, a few more minutes.”<br>
“Thank you.” The two made their way to the dining room and went to setting the table.
Life was hard but happy in those times for Amadeo and most days saw him with a smile on his face, a hop to his step and a song on his lips. But things change and he could not realize just how much he would soon lose.
The Vittore House
Milan, Italy
It was early evening in the late spring and the sun still sat high amongst the light fluff of sparse cumulus clouds as Amadeo made his way past the planter boxes which lined the streets of Renaissance Milan and his family’s walkway. His wife, Christiana was sitting with their two children. His four year old daughter, Anna-Maria was in her lap while their son, Donato poked at the cracks in the cobblestone walkway with a stick. A warm breeze blew through the small garden and brought with it the scent of the nearby sea. Days such as this seemed common during the Renaissance. They were those days when all seemed right in the world.
Christiana leaned down and whispered to her children, never taking her eyes from her husband, “Papa’s home.”<br>
“Papa!” his children rushed to him as his wife smiled and he scooped up his daughter, laughing.
“Oh, you’re such a big girl!” he looked down at his son, gently stroking the boy’s hair, “And how is my little knight? Did you slay any dragons today?”<br>
“Si, papa. And I fought the Giant on the hill, too.” The boy’s eyes shined with light and life and Amadeo knew some form of happiness even in his hard work as a craftsman.
“Oh really? And who won?” The father smiled at his son as they began to make their way towards the house, meeting Christiana in between.
“I did, but he got away.”<br>
“Well I’m sure,” Amadeo paused mid sentence in order to lightly kiss his wife and hand her their daughter, “you’ll get him next time. But right now I think it’s time for dinner.”<br>
The evenings, even in summer, seemed to pass quickly during the Renaissance. It seemed that the entirety of the world was full of motion, authors, inventors, artisans, philosophers and scholars were all working feverishly on some project or another. Likewise, it saw the young Amadeo dabbling in politics and religion and he found a comfort in those books.
After dinner was over, Amadeo and Christiana put their children to bed, telling them a story and tucking them in before they went to sit out in their garden and gaze up at the stars. There was something inspiring about the stars above Milan in those years, long before electric lights and in the air Amadeo could small wood smoke from chimneys and the sweet smell of jasmine on the wind. It was one of those nights when it seemed that the world was genuinely good again.
For hours the two sat, idly talking about hopes and dreams. Amadeo dreamed of becoming a senator, or at least getting into local politics as his father-in-law had. His wife dreamed of a larger home with more room to raise a family, perhaps a farm. In the early hours of the morning, the two retired to their bed. Amadeo had much work to do the next day building several pieces of public furniture for the Pallazo Lombardi and his wife would need much rest in order to keep up with the children.
Monday, June 6th, 1505. 3:30 PM
The Craftsmen’s Hall
Palazzo Santo Gabriel del Caeli, Milan, Italy
The sun rested high in the late afternoon sky still, beaming down through the dirty paned windows of the workshop. It was one of those hot, humid days where the world was irritable and it was best to keep one’s mouth shut. Two days ago, Amadeo and his crew had delivered the pieces due to the Palazzo Lombardi. Now the young Italian was down on bended knee, polishing the arms of a newly commissioned piece. The polish rag in his hand glided neatly over the surface of the wood and he took care not to stain the velvet cushioning with the oil.
Amadeo stopped for a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. He’d been working almost non-stop for the past three hours with as little as a few minutes to breath. His shop had been commissioned to create a new set of dining chairs for the duke and Amadeo had jumped at the honor. Fifty chairs were to be made ready within two months. Amadeo was certain he and his crew could complete the chairs, possibly sooner, if they kept at the task.
For the chairs, Amadeo had chosen the most elaborate of carving patterns in hopes that the Duke would be pleased with their work and consider Amadeo and his team for future projects. The Duke paid well and was, at least by all appearances, a staunch supporter of the Church.
All around him, Amadeo could hear the sounds of honest labor. Hammers, saws, jokes about turks and the Ottoman empire that was now dwindling in size. Amadeo found few places that brought him more pleasure than his work and the Renaissance was a time of two, intangible but ever present forces: faith and logic. It was the age of rebirth and man was reinventing himself. Since the beginning of the 15th century man had found new ways of entertaining himself. Their were painters, inventors, poets, philosophers, scientists, composers and everything in between and now the average man could become any, if not all of them.
Much to the Church’s dismay, numerous libraries opened up, their halls filled with books that might inevitably cast doubt upon the supremacy of God or the existence of heaven. Faith, even in the short span of a century, had gone from being something tangible to something that questioningly existed in most people. And that faith had been replaced by rationale. There must be an explanation for the great mysteries of life and man was determined to find them.
Amadeo returned his focus to the wood, continuing to polish as the hours passed. The more chairs were completed, the more polish he applied. He’d finished two himself that day, and as the sun began to go down, the crew closed the shop down and began making their way to their homes. It had been nearly fifty years since any one had seen a Vampire in the open, but that didn’t stop the people from remembering. Amadeo himself had never seen one, but he remembered the stories told by his parents, and the presence of Vampires, even if it wasn’t true, was enough to keep a person looking over their shoulder on the streets at night.
It was 7:22 when Amadeo passed through the door of his home and Christiana rushed to greet him, “I was worried.”<br>
“I’m sorry, We were trying to get as many chairs done for the Duke as possible. He wants fifty ready in the next two months.”<br>
“I know you want the best for us Amadeo, but the nighttime streets aren’t safe. Please just tell me you’ll be home a bit sooner tomorrow.”<br>
“I promise Christiana. Is dinner ready?”<br>
“Almost, a few more minutes.”<br>
“Thank you.” The two made their way to the dining room and went to setting the table.
Life was hard but happy in those times for Amadeo and most days saw him with a smile on his face, a hop to his step and a song on his lips. But things change and he could not realize just how much he would soon lose.
