Luca knelt down and Alessandro watched with amusement. "I told you once to stroke the real thing instead of the cold stone, but that first time you turned me down."

Luca grinned up at him. "As an upcoming tourist guide you can surely explain what this is all about, can't you?"

Luca stared pretty disbelieving. "Well, so then all of the bible is just a fake? I mean, it's just a gathering and mixture of the ideas of foreign cults?"

Luca pondered about the consequences. "So, it means in the end that Jesus didn't live? That it is just a tale?"

Alessandro unfolded his legs, moaned a bit and tried to get to his feet. Luca helped him. "You know, it's an interesting myth, but Masolino had no idea of it when he and Masaccio were painting at San Clemente in Rome", he said mysteriously. "That's where his diary ends. He painted the chapel, until water broke in and they found a mithraeum deep down under the earth. At least that's what I suppose."

Luca looked as if it was all Greek to him and Alessandro laughed. "I have great plans", he said then more seriously.

Alessandro sighed and Luca seemed to feel him tremble slightly. Surprised he peered into his face, and Alessandro understood the silent question. He shook his head. "I seem to become paranoid when I hear footsteps behind me", he said half-laughing, but his blue eyes remained serious. "Shit", he hissed. "I don't want this." He struggled to his feet, careful with his hand. Luca wiped the white stains from their jeans.

Luca was beside him, then rushed to the entrance and peered out. "You know, I thought", he said when the coast was clear, "that you did think it was your buddies, right? Have you seen them again?"

Luca looked at him. "Don't stare at me", Alessandro snapped. "I don't need them. And anyway, if you think it was them..."

Alessandro stopped in his tracks. "Your brother? The bulky one.... Dante?" He shook his head. "He wouldn't attack you, would he?"

Luca was silent. The attack was meant for Sandro, not him, despite the violence he had experienced too.

Luca shrugged his shoulders. He pulled Sandro along, away from the cemetery until they stood in front of the church of San Miniato, absorbing the burning sunbeams and the silent surroundings, interrupted only by the twittering of birds. No tourists were here at the mid-morning hour, just a monk with a black and white habit who passed behind them with long, regular steps.

Luca turned surprised. Yes, they had both missed the cricket festivity in the park, the annual big party of the town, but the Gioco took place on the day of the town patron, in late June. Alessandro would be in Pisa then. "What do you mean, return?"

Luca turned completely to him and took his shoulders. "You're not gonna play, you hear me? They'll make pulp of you."

Alessandro laughed unkindly. "We'll see."

Luca shook his head disbelievingly. "Calcio in Costume" was a game that was played throughout the centuries, three times a year, on the large piazza of Santa Croce and accompanied by a middle-ages style street-party, which was fine, except that the game was brutal and was mostly played by the boxers and wrestlers of all of the four quarters of the town. Luca was worried. If Alessandro wanted to attend he was in danger. "You must be mad!" he insisted. "You can't do this." He shook him, but Alessandro stepped back, his face unreadable. "Is this one of your noble attitudes? Not to lose face? Hey," Luca shook him again. "This is not the middle-ages anymore. You don't have to protect the name of your family."

Alessandro raised his eyebrows again and looked coolly at Luca. "It is not? I'm pretty sure it is. Your brothers will protect your name and your reputation. I will protect mine."

Luca rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky. But then.... probably Sandro wouldn't get holidays from his university. Perhaps he would be so busy with his study that he would forget. Forget Florence, the Gioco and ... Luca. Suddenly weak, his arms fell and he turned his back on Alessandro. He stood so for a while before he felt arms wrapping around his upper body and a soft voice whispering into his ear "I won't forget the hours we've had, gioia. Pisa isn't the end of the world."

Luca didn't move.

Marcello abruptly opened the door and Luca ducked away before it hit his head. "It's you", his brother said sleepily. "What on earth..." then it dawned on him. "Ah," he said grinning broadly. "First day. Welcome to the daily grind." Marcello trotted along to his room. Involuntarily Luca's eyes followed Marcello's large body; he examined his broad, naked shoulders and the play of muscles and wondered what they could do to Alessandro's lithe body. Then he vanished into the bathroom.

The breakfast table was laid and a scent of baked waffles filled the kitchen. Clarissa stroked his combed blond hair lovingly and treated him like a boy on his first day at school. Luca felt awkward. He had brought the old tools of his grandfather that he had been given for his birthday, but his father had growled to him to keep them at home. "You can work with them when you've learnt the technique", he had said, slurping his chicory-coffee. "And leave your stone at home, son. No need for others to see it."

Luca was disappointed. But then he thought that first he had to learn a lot before he could work Sandro's Lapis Lazuli. He knew what he wanted to do with it. A lizard. And a lion's head perhaps.

There was silence at the table, until the brothers and Niccolò took their provisions and their tools and Luca felt his father's heavy hand on his shoulder. He followed them, saw Dante and Marcello taking their bicycles but he remained at Niccolò’s side and started to march through the town, passing the back of Palazzo Vecchio, the cathedral and the Accademia until they turned into Via Alfani, an old Renaissance palazzo with the inconspicuous plate 'Opificio delle Pietre Dure - museo e scuola'.

Niccolò though seemed to sense his son's apprehension. He patted his shoulder and forced him into the entrance hall. "Don't be afraid, son. Nothing's going to harm you. Nothing to be worried about." Niccolò’s composed statement seemed to be contrived, though it soothed Luca. Straight on were the show rooms for visitors and the museum with the displayed work, examples of used stones and materials, with copies of works of art that the museum had restored. This institute was alongside the Roman institute for restoration; the biggest and most important workshop in Italy. It received objects from all over the world for treatment and its employees were the busiest in the whole of Italy.

Luca felt himself shoved up a staircase into a wide room under the roof with many desks and chairs, that led into another room full of work benches and showcases hanging on the walls. He felt his heartbeat going faster. Several young men and women waited like him, eyeing each other for familiar faces. He saw here and there one that he had seen before, but didn't know their names.

Luca sat down on the next best chair and laid his bag at his feet. While he was listening to Dr Coppo Travisero's treatise about the foundation of the institute, its importance and its glorious successes in restoration and creation Luca's eyes wandered through the room. He counted nineteen freshmen, most of them were lads of his age who looked as awkwardly around as he did himself. He listened to the explanation of the several departments - restorations of clothes, of wooden material, of paintings - when Coppo finally started to explain the work of stone inlays, this was department Luca had chosen to learn if he was good enough. It was the most masterful of all of the departments, he knew that very well.

He followed Coppo into the next room, stood excitedly in front of the showcases and examined the stones of achat, porphyry, diorite, obsidian, onyx, alabaster and carneol and tried to absorb as much as he could.

Luca jumped and stared at him. He didn't know what to say. "I'm his friend, yes", he finally said.

Luca stepped away and looked at a vase of rock crystal. "The department for restorations of mobile paintings started the Masolino-Masaccio project in collaboration with the Museum of Fine Arts of Philadelphia and the National Gallery of London", Coppo said over the heads of the pupils, pointing to a copy of a fresco of the Brancacci chapel, showing the Expulsion of Adam and Eve opposite to the Fall of Man. Luca could tell who painted what, because he recognised Masaccio's explicit search for a new, plastic energy through his figures which gave a strong sense of spatial depth.

He looked over his half-moon spectacles into the face of each new pupil. When his look fell on Luca's face a spark of recognition appeared. "Break", he said and approached Luca. "We'll meet in the class room at 2 pm." The pupils scattered in all directions.

"It's just Coppo", Coppo answered friendly. "I'm an old friend of your dad." He padded Luca's shoulder and set him free. "But this doesn't mean that you're getting preferential treatment, sonny. Want to join us at the cantina?"


When Luca exited the museum at five, he saw Alessandro on the other side of the street, leaning nonchalantly against his motorbike. Luca felt a push in his side "He IS your boyfriend", he heard Raniero, the boy with the yellow-brown, inflamed eyes whispering into his ear. He saw his salacious grin and blushed. At the same time he was angry at himself and pushed Raniero back. "Not your concern", he hissed and bravely crossed the street.

Luca turned and saw Dante and Marcello standing by their bicycles. "Going to go home?" He saw how Dante threw a nasty look at Sandro; that it was returned.