My father was a merchant, how he loved to travel. Sometimes I even came along, in order to learn the family business. More often though, I was left alone with mama to run the household. Is there any wonder then I would learn commerce from him and maintaining a household from her? In truth, what I wanted when I was young was to learn music, but neither of my parents wanted me to explore that part of my life, not as a career anyway. And thus, it was cut off from me. Dutiful son that I was, I yielded.
I think some part of me always hated them for that, may God forgive me. I became a dabbler at best.
Yet I found a way to bring music into my life yet. Venice was the hub of trade for the Christian World, or so it seemed to me. I seized on this and realized that one didn't need to travel to enjoy the world, one could let the world come to them. So it was I scrimped, saved, and finally managed to purchase a precious bit of land in our Canal laden Venice. It was there I built the La Serenata Notturna, the Night's Serenade.
I did not intend the name to be ironic.
There, I offered a place not only of rest, but of sweet music. Musicians, it turns out, must sleep like anyone else. So I encouraged those of talent who had not already caught the eye of church or noble patrons to stay a time at my place, and play. It worked! While some inns were merely brothels in disguise, mine was
a hall of song masquerading as a place of repose. I was no artist, but I had, inadvertently, become something of a patron of them. Many found grander patrons and were plucked from me, but my grand inn became known as a place where that could happen to those who played there so yet more offered their services. The cut of their profits financed more and more renovations and I did quite well for myself.
I even had time to wed. Oh, shy young Zuana. She was beautiful, but so timid I feared she might break when I touched her, and, of course, much younger than I. Still, with kindness, I managed to earn her trust, even if it seemed I could never break her out of her shell.
Then came Francois Villon of Paris, and I had no idea of his true nature. He listened to the offerings of my inn, but he also talked to me, like a schoolmaster grilling a student. How had I managed this arrangement?
Surely there could be even greater fields of profit for one of my skills, and so forth. It seemed I could hide nothing from him, nor did I want to. I told him that the music was as dear to me as the coin, if not more so. I even confessed to him my childhood dreams, and the next thing I knew, he was demanding I try a song or two. I am very fortunate not to have embarrassed myself. He told me I had had promise, and might yet again, but that it was my love of music and the unique style I made it available to the common man that struck him most. He said he too wished to encourage the arts and had a proposition for me.
Little did I know it would lead to my death and rebirth. Within three nights, I had been embraced and risen.
I had lost some part of myself, and yet I also felt more alive, more aware, than ever I had when my heart still beat without effort. To calm Zuana's nerves, I slipped my own blood into her drink as I'd been instructed. It seemed almost overnight, my lamb of a wife became a tigress.
Mary forgive me, but I prefer her newfound boldness! She is so vibrant now. Can a man be truly good when he takes a modest wife and transforms her to a most passionate lover in private, and a force to be reckoned with in the public eye? Am I truly still good now that I feed safely from the staff and occasional guest?
I do not know. All I know is, I now have all eternity to listen to, and perhaps even learn, the music.
I must still have a soul, how could I not when it is moved so by the sweet sounds?
