There is no need to provide overly much detail. Besides, what is implied is often more effective than what is baldly stated.
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The Little Dux
- Thread starter TheButterflyComposer
- Start date
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Faced similar questions in my own AAR with dealing with violence toward children and women. You can try to avoid it where you can, but it's hard to avoid it entirely, depending on the characters you're writing.
You said it is prior to the start of the story, though? It may be possible to keep it to a minimum. His memories may not be well formed so that you can allude to it by nightmares or vague flashbacks. You can also alleviate by having someone potentially protect him from the worst of it, or comfort Cosma when did deal with bad things. We tend to make broad statements in history like "everyone treated X group badly - that was the way of the times" when that usually isn't the case. There are always those who see the ills society have and work to improve it in their own ways, even if they are a small minority. It's a work of fiction, so it could be that Cosma was fortunate enough to meet one of those kind people.
You said it is prior to the start of the story, though? It may be possible to keep it to a minimum. His memories may not be well formed so that you can allude to it by nightmares or vague flashbacks. You can also alleviate by having someone potentially protect him from the worst of it, or comfort Cosma when did deal with bad things. We tend to make broad statements in history like "everyone treated X group badly - that was the way of the times" when that usually isn't the case. There are always those who see the ills society have and work to improve it in their own ways, even if they are a small minority. It's a work of fiction, so it could be that Cosma was fortunate enough to meet one of those kind people.
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A variant of JabberJock14's suggestion: have someone comfort a young Cosma after a rough experience. Perhaps explaining things during.
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Chapter 3: In which Cosma dreams of Venice and his rescue from it
Chapter 3: In which Cosma dreams of Venice and his rescue from it
The bedroom was quiet. No, it was silent. Cosma paused and looked closely at his son, sitting upright in bed.
“Are you quite alright to go on?” he asked gently. “We are coming to the nightmare part now.”
“Is it…very scary?” the boy asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Yes, though perhaps in some ways you will not understand. Yet. I don’t want to frighten you though. You don’t need any more night terrors.”
Filippo shrugged. On balance, trading his current fears for his father’s childhood ones did not seem like such a terrible thing, considering he was going to have bad dreams regardless. “The Master – it is the same Master isn’t it? – says ‘that there is little we can do for ourselves but to know more about others’. So…if I know more about yours, I don’t have so many, right?”
Cosma hummed a little in his seat. “Perhaps,” he said. “And yes, it is the same man. I can assure you he has mellowed with age.” He smiled ruefully, “Very well then. We will continue.”
2nd July 755AD
It was a small thing but it was enough.The boy twitched in his sleep. None but God could have known what it was: the particular type of wind outside possibly or the smell of roses wafting in from the garden, or an aching tiredness from the day’s lessons and activities. Perhaps it was all of those things, perhaps none.
But something hit Cosma’s senses and knocked him down a path in his mind long thought locked away. His head filled with visions of noise, too loud to be distinguishable. He thought it might be shouting, or screaming, but he wasn’t sure. Cosma just knew he was scared. But in attempting to move, he found he couldn’t. Not just as one often finds oneself paralysed in dreams but physically bound to a wall. And it was not merely a wall but the Wall. And the noises were coming from him.
He was screaming. Crying too, but less so. His eyes, which had been screwed shut since he first realised he was on the Wall, opened for a fraction of a second too long. Cosma found himself in a room of utter blackness. Not simply darkened, like his bedroom in the Master’s house, with its reassuring shadows promising that light existed, somewhere. No, this was an insidious black-no light, no hope-and he was alone there.
It had all been a lie of course, he thought. He had never been in the Master’s home, never left his cell and the Wall upon which he was pinned. In a little while, or preferably forever from now, someone would enter the room. As much as Cosma hated the sightless darkness, he hated the door opening more. The cruel light beyond burnt his eyes and skin with its intensity and, as only two people could or would ever open that door, he would both then be fed and tended to by Rho or…or it would be his father visiting.
When the door was shut, the cell was at the very least safe and protected. Nothing got into it, nothing got out. When the door opened though, then the room became a true torture, for Cosma would not only face his father but also the sight of the room itself, with every horrible scent and feeling now having a corresponding visual to go with it. He could also see what he looked like-really see-not what he imagined or avoided thinking about. He could see the chains, and the rotted wood, both of which were coated haphazardly in some dry red dye.
The door began to bang and creak as it always did when someone was on the other side unlocking it. Cosma squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to prepare himself. There was nothing he could do of course. Nothing ever worked.
He couldn’t even speak. And whilst he did scream incomprehensibly when…he came, the rest of the time Cosma strived to be silent. Everything else in the cell was. Noise was an infection that rang in his ears and drove screws into his skull, and so he strove not to hurt himself as much as possible. Some days, he hated his heart beat for being too loud. But then again, it was beating very fast right-
The door burst open and for a moment, the nightmare was real.
Or rather, reality had mixed with it. Madam Roe rushed to the child’s bedside as he awoke in agony. Through his tears and whimpering, the sight of her simply confirmed the fact he was still within Venice, a city he did not know existed for the entirety of his stay within it.
“Hush child, what is the matter?” she said gently, though Cosma knew she knew, and knew that she knew he knew. The question was, basically, their version of ‘ciao’, at least under these circumstances. The nightmares were unfortunately becoming enough of a regular occurrence for the pair to have a set routine in order to avoid discussing it at length. He would awake in tears, she would rush in clucking, he would have his face washed, receive a drink of water and a Croatian lullaby (she swore by it).
Not the one she sang for him in Venice though. She later told him that one was only sung for warding off evil spirits. Cosma despite it all missed that song, especially as he never had been attacked by an evil spirit, proving it was strong stuff. And like every night before, this thought and her strangely harsh but soft voice would waft him back into safe oblivion.
But there was no longer only one child sleeping in the house anymore. And Leone was far too light a sleeper to miss the sound of his friend being tortured in his sleep.
“Are you-” he said, bursting in. He paused at the sight of Madam Roe, who looked at him from where she was sat on Cosma’s bed. His wide eyed and open mouthed face crumpled into confusion but before he could ask the next inevitable question, a hand struck his shoulder and froze him in place.
“Enough,” the Master said, in that voice of his that reverberated in the minds of children. “That’s enough.” He turned his head and looked down from a great height at Leone. “To your room now child. All will be explained tomorrow.”
Leone nodded dumbly and retreated from the Master’s presence, something he had found himself doing rather a lot of since he had arrived at the house.
“Everything sir?” the woman whom had once been called Rho asked. She was still cradling a small boy’s head in her lap, a boy that had thankfully gotten off safely to the Land of Nod and away from this conversation.
The Master sighed. “He needs to know the histories, of the City especially. And what to expect from,” he paused and sneered, “normal people. Especially if Fil-the Dux,” he caught himself, “insists on involving them both in his ploys. Bah! If that man were still a student I would beat him senseless for his foolishness. But I do what I must. As must you.”
He strode out without saying goodnight. Madam Roe didn’t seem to mind though. Her attention was still on Cosma, whom was dozing somewhat lightly but at least no longer trapped in a torment of his own making.
The morning would see the truth come out. It promised to be a challenging day for both of them.
...
“This,” the Master said, tapping a finger to the board, “is a map of Italia. And this,” he tapped again, “is Venice, the city of our fathers. Unlike most of the rest of Italy, it has remained under Roman rule up until the turn of the century and even now has much closer relations to the Empire. The city did gain independence however when the most powerful families elected from amongst them a governing body and a governing head, the Dux, colloquially named Doge.” He gritted his teeth a little when he said it. Cosma supressed a grin. He knew the Master had a burning hatred for the continual bastardisation of Latin, for he said so at every opportunity. “This was in 697AD, so the system has not been in place for very long and, by now, has multiple powerful detractors against it. This lesson is to show you both why that is and also why their anger is irrelevant.”
He paused for breath and pulled out a more detailed map of a group of islands. “This is Venice in more detail. As you can see, many of the islands are sparsely developed and populated, which makes it simple for a man to set up his home and house in the city. That is what the Boi family did. It is also no coincidence that when the guilds and powerful families became more organised and gained greater control over the entirety of Venice, Alfonzo II was one of the first men to be killed.”
Cosma flinched. He knew, strictly speaking, that his great-grandfather had been murdered for months now but to his mind it still felt almost fantastical to hear someone explain it to him. The man had made many enemies, which his Uncle said was a terrible thing to do (and the Master said was a stupid thing to do), but still…it was shocking. He wasn’t used to being both interested in and emotionally touched by his tutor’s lectures but today it seemed everything was a little bit different.
“House Galbaio on the other hand,” the Master said, moving his attention to Leone, “was well established and relatively wealthy, so they were close to the forefront of politics and power. They were however not yet at the absolute summit of the circles of governance and so Leonardo, their patriarch, sought to increase their prestige. They found a way through the Boi family and a few other new and upcoming Houses that were beginning to arise around Venice.”
Leone, whom had perked up when the Master mentioned his grandfather, began shooting looks at Cosma from across the room. The other boy was just as interested; their families had been connected for much longer than their friendship had been.
“Yes, quite,” the Master said sourly, forcing the two to look back at him. “Enzo, Alfonzo’s son was visited and essentially apprenticed under Leonardo till the lad came of age at the dawn of this century. It took them both fifteen years more to raise House Boi to nobility and the upper echelons of Venetian society but it was time well spent. Both families were rich and respected, and a movement was beginning to form behind them from the newer peoples in the city against the old crowd. Incidentally…this occurred in of the Great Cities of Antiquity too, so pay attention to this, for one day you might find yourselves in the established seat of power or trying to overthrow it.”
The boys were listening now. Though it had always been a vague concept, Cosma still knew that one day he would return to Venice and have to live there. If he could help his Uncle in the process, well, that would be wonderful. And since Leone’s family was his family’s friends, it meant he could still see him too.
“Please sir,” Leone said, very quietly as if he regretted speaking even before he had, “but how did Cosma’s uncle become Doge then?”
The Master paused mid-flow about Rome and Republics and some such-Cosma had been focused on the other’s boy’s sudden audacity more than the lesson-and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
“Now you’ve done it,” Cosma whispered furiously. “He’s going to beat the Devil out of you!”
“Don’t talk about him,” Leone said absently, before looking around nervously, “Um…where’s he going, do you think?”
Cosma tried to peer around from where he was sat to see beyond the door but found he couldn’t. “I don’t know,” he said after a bit of shuffling. “I don’t think he has a cane or anything. He’s never used one on me anyway. Oh! Maybe to get the whip from the stable?”
Leone’s face paled. “No-no, I don’t think so. That’s for horses. Um…right so…maybe we should go?”
“I think escaping might be worse,” Cosma said seriously. “We wouldn’t make it to the valley before dark and there’s nowhere else to go to but back here. And adults don’t like waiting for things any more than we do. My Uncle says-”
“Enough about your uncle! What should we do?” Leone said, causing Cosma’s mouth to snap shut. Rule number one about speaking to Cosma was not to speak poorly of his Uncle in the boy’s presence. Leone knew that and backtracked quickly, “I’m sorry! Sorry! But what-”
“I believe these will help,” the Master said striding back into the room carrying a large bundle of something wrapped in cloth. The boys held their breath but their sudden fears were unfounded. The Master took out a few strangely shaped portraits and stood them on the desk.
Cosma frowned and then smiled as he recognised the image of his Uncle, though younger and with more red in his hair and less in his face.
“You recognise the Dux of course. This was done when he was sixteen and into his maturity.” A small imprint on the frame bore the legend: Filippo Boi da Venezia. The portrait next to his was of a man Cosma could not recognise, though he shivered when he read the frame: Bastian Boi da Venezia.
This was a portrait of his father. It was not the face of his nightmares however, nor did it truly look anything much like it. Here his father was fair haired and dark eyed yes but he was not bearing down on young Cosma, teeth bared and hands outstretched. He actually had a beard, which surprised him. His Uncle’s portrait didn’t have one and, as Cosma noted when he looked back over it, didn’t have the scar across his right cheek or a crooked nose either. He’d assumed before this point that his Uncle had been born with them. The boy wondered what had happened in the years between the painting and now.
“Bastian and Filippo were twins and brothers, the heirs of Enzo Boi and the first children of the House to be born into this new Venice wherein their family was powerful. I did not know Bastian as well because I did not teach him.” The Master paused for a second on Filippo’s portrait. “I was tutor to the other however. Despite being of as keen a mind as his twin, the Dux found his…calling elsewhere,” he pursed his lips.
Cosma had the feeling that wasn’t the whole story. “He didn’t want to be Doge?” Cosma blurted out.
“Dux,” the Master reprimanded, hard. “No, his brother did. Bastian was always more ambitious. The Boi Family were great and becoming greater but they were nowhere near reaching that level of prominence. He wanted to change that, within his own lifetime.” The Master titled his head and shrugged, “He succeeded, in a way. Enzo and he campaigned and plotted and schemed into the highest offices in Venice. In 725 however, the Patriarch’s mind was beginning to fail, which does happen sometimes for unknown reason, especially amongst intelligent men. I suspect-ah, anyway, the two brothers were by this time fully capable of running the House themselves and did so with great gusto. Bastian became the de facto head of the family and began using all of his resources into climbing the electorate. A ‘Doge’ serves until death, and the last was ailing. Bastian was determined to be ready.”
The two boys looked at each other in confusion, “But, what was Filippo doing?” Leone asked.
“Him?” The Master harrumphed. “He was in love with the sword and the horse and the ‘epics’ of old of great heroes and adventurers. He went into Northern Italy and made a name for himself as the greatest mercenary leader there, which in credit to him was quite the achievement at that time. In those days, as is now, these lands are blighted with many bands of roving warriors and soldiers. He gained the respect of them all, fighting in the wars. Apparently he saved the current King’s life once in the last war. A story for another time and not one I am privy to. I had long since retired to my books and my house in the hills…till, recently,” he scowled at Cosma. “That is what my student had decided to do with his life, fight! Hah! He was a foolish young man once. Now he is not so young…it was a disappointment. But Bastian surprised me. Five years after seizing control of his father’s position he also seized Venice and became the new Dux. Bastian was ruler of Venice, had five healthy children and a loving wife. The Boi family were prospering, Italy was at the very least getting into much less violent wars and Venice was under new management.”
Cosma, whom had been listening with increased incredulity and confusion for the past few minutes, felt he had to speak again. “But…he locked me in the cell.”
The Master looked at him for a long time in silence. It wasn’t a particularly good silence but it was much better than any other quiet moment Cosma had experienced with the Master before. Usually silence meant the Master was struggling not to strangle him instead of hitting him. Now it looked like the Master was mentally fighting with himself.
It looked painful.
“He did,” the Master said lowly. “He did, and I shall tell you what I know about it all. But it is a very long story, child. Best to break it up to ensure you remember. I do not want to have to say…this again.”
Cosma looked at Leone and then back at his teacher. “So…it is all true then?”
The Master almost smiled. Cosma knew he almost smiled because his lips went upwards and he caught a flash of grey tooth. But the Master never smiled really, thus making this only a partial success.
“As true as I can make it, though being so great and terrible a thing that it is, I doubt you can ever truly hold such a thing in your grasp.”
Leone’s brows shot upwards and, as his mouth was hanging loosly open, he coul only stammer, “Bu-bu-bu-but-”
“Yes, I know about the Gospel,” the Master waved his concern away, “shut your mouth and open your ears child, the Word of God is passed through mortal men and mortal men lie like sinning is praying. You must always verify what you can yourself, draw your own maps of the lands you walk, lest you find yourself sinking into a pit or swamp where the mapmaker said Paradise would be.”
He sighed and looked out of the window, noting the position of the sun. “I tire. Return in one hour having been fed, watered and purged of other bodily desires. You will need your wits about you for what comes herein.”
And with that, the boys were dismissed from that room and yet for the first time, felt they did not want to leave it.
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So they are given a glimpse of their destiny, and unsurprisingly hunger for it, as it gives them meaning in an otherwise meaningless rote existence.
Something of a steeper learning curve for Leone of course.
Something of a steeper learning curve for Leone of course.
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I think you handled your question well. This line is particularly powerful:
Hearing a man hailed as great and then confronted with the... realities of how different Cosma's experience would have been to the others - even if they knew of it and what he went through. It does not come to mind first, unlike with Cosma, and that colors everything.
As I said, handled well. Looking forward to the next bit!
Hearing a man hailed as great and then confronted with the... realities of how different Cosma's experience would have been to the others - even if they knew of it and what he went through. It does not come to mind first, unlike with Cosma, and that colors everything.
As I said, handled well. Looking forward to the next bit!
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I did try writing the master as a rather pompous stick in the mud type scholar but I've found that making him blisteringly competent and mean is not only easier but better. I think many people would have actually quite liked a teacher like this for their child, or even for themselves (with the benefit of hindsight). Someone who can terrify and intrigue you and will be both the subject of both loathing and worship by their students.
He's about to get his first experience of having to imagine the world complexly. Bastian was a great Doge but he was also a mortal man. And we know what the Master thinks of them...
There's more to this sad tale yet before Cosma and we can move on.
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On board with this one too. And I'll agree with the rest that have posted...you are doing fine with the youth and the dream proved a very useful tool.
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The nightmare works.
And the master is frightening and competent, an unforgettable teacher for Cosma.
And the master is frightening and competent, an unforgettable teacher for Cosma.
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Thanks for the feedback. I had originally written what actually happened in Venice during that time before realising that
A) It was too much (especially for the forum)
B) It was cheating because it was outside Cosma's perspective
C) It was less interesting being told everything as it actually happened and more what everyone remembers a year on from the events.
Btw, I'm not usually one for name symbolism (and the game picked out most of the names that will be in the story anyway) but I did a brief check to see if all the names were in use during this time period and are correct to a reasonable degree (they are). Cosma's name is actually rather fitting.
Hope everyone's enjoying it so far.
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I nice one-two punch. Setting us up with a tease of the nightmare, and then settling us down into the actual story that from Cosma's memory was surely terrifying. I'm thinking maybe the father was not too pleased with the look of this particular offspring, but that might be too on the nose. Looking forward to seeing the truth of it.
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Obviously not a lot of people would be very pleased to have a dwarf for a son in those times but he did have multiple heirs and spares by then. Bastian was more a plot device than a character when I started writing but his personal story was actually rather compelling. We'll never know everything for various reasons but you'll have a much better idea than originally proposed.
At the moment, Cosma being a dwarf hasn't really been thought of as a negative by him and no one around him has treated him that badly because of it (that he knows of). Next chapter is...something of a breaking of that illusion but still probably nothing like what he'll experience when he does go back to Venice.
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The next chapter is ready however there is a small issue that should be discussed. The geography of Venice is exceptionally complicated and even today finding good graphics and photographs that indicate where everything is and what everything is called is quite difficult. Now, I have maps and graphics and stuff but they are modern ones (because Venice didn't start getting maps and drawings and stuff until they really go important in OTL a few centuries from when we are talking about the city).
So, opinion time again. How should I set this out? Should the maps and explanations be embedded in the chapter itself (using the images and then standard explain text underneath in small print) or in a separate post or at the end of the chapter in an author's note or left out entirely because it doesn't matter too much right now in regards to the story? It should be noted that Paradox's representation of Venice is very much out of sync geographically with where its territory and power was, even in the earliest starts but especially in the later ones too. Venice's history is going to mirror OTL for a while longer though bigger changes are obviously going to start to happen down the line.
I'm currently leaning towards Author's Notes because this will not be the last time something like this will come up but I'm aware (and often share) the dislike of overly long AN's explaining stuff that should either be in the story or are not relevant. Your thoughts as ever would be invaluable.
So, opinion time again. How should I set this out? Should the maps and explanations be embedded in the chapter itself (using the images and then standard explain text underneath in small print) or in a separate post or at the end of the chapter in an author's note or left out entirely because it doesn't matter too much right now in regards to the story? It should be noted that Paradox's representation of Venice is very much out of sync geographically with where its territory and power was, even in the earliest starts but especially in the later ones too. Venice's history is going to mirror OTL for a while longer though bigger changes are obviously going to start to happen down the line.
I'm currently leaning towards Author's Notes because this will not be the last time something like this will come up but I'm aware (and often share) the dislike of overly long AN's explaining stuff that should either be in the story or are not relevant. Your thoughts as ever would be invaluable.
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Personally I don't think they are probably needed just now - but if you do want to include a map I think in an Author's note given the nature of the AAR thus far.
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Chapter 4: In which Cosma loses his innocence and Bastian becomes real
Chapter 4: In which Cosma loses his innocence and Bastian becomes real
2nd July 755AD
“Do you think it’s all true?” Cosma asked Leone. They were sat eating various fruits they couldn’t name in the courtyard of the house. Madam Roe had said that they were to finish the whole bowl before she got back. There didn’t seem to be any danger of the boys not meeting that deadline, though the juice that covered their hands, mouths and clothes might earn her ire regardless.
“I don’t know,” Leone said. He kicked a small pebble away from his feet. “My father said that Bastian was an evil man. There’s all sorts of stories I think but they’ve sort of mixed together with your uncle’s. I can’t remember them very well.”
“I know!” Cosma exclaimed, startling a few birds out of the tree they were sat under. “I mean, I don’t think the Master is wrong but why is he saying my…father was a good Doge? He wasn’t!”
“I don’t know,” Leone said. He chewed on his fruit thoughtfully, or at least Cosma thought it looked thoughtful. He had one of those faces that always looked like it was thinking and not at all present or paying attention. “Maybe,” he said, “maybe he was good but then something happened and he became bad?”
Cosma thought for a moment. “Well maybe…what could have happened though?” He thought that there was a long way between becoming Doge like his Uncle and locking him away. A really long way.
“The…” Leone looked around himself nervously, “well, you know, him. Or something.”
The Devil? Well, Cosma supposed so, but the Master said that the Devil was more of an excuse than a concept and more a concept than a being. Though saying that, he realised he didn’t really understand what that actually meant. It was probably something terribly clever though.
“I don’t know,” Cosma said after a bit. He really didn’t either. Whilst Leone seemed to be attuned to this sort of thing far more than he was, in the Bible people possessed by the Devil tended to be…well, saved. It didn’t sound like Bastian was saved, it sounded like Bastian got worse.
“Boys!” Madam Roe returned and tasked them for their dirty hands and faces. They were sent inside to clean themselves before returning to the Master’s rooms for study. They were actually excited this time. History suddenly had a purpose and their own family stories were being revealed to them in spectacular fashion. The mystery of Bastian was also at the forefront of Cosma’s mind, whilst Leone had, quietly to himself, wondered for days and weeks on what Cosma meant by the word ‘cell’ and why he woke up screaming every so often.
They returned to the Master’s study, where they found their teacher waiting for them with the maps of both Venice and Italy, and a few new scrolls and tomes on the desk.
“Sit,” he said, and they did so without conscious thought. He seemed to have that way with people. “Boy!”
Cosma noted he had also stopped calling him ‘child’ again. “Yes sir?”
“Where did we leave off?”
“730AD sir.”
“Ah yes, Bastian had just become ruler of Venice. He was a popular public figure and held a secure alliance with House Galbaio. He was also married, happily, to Maria Galbaio and possessed five children, the two eldest of which were boys. Filippo meanwhile was wasting his life in Northern Italy or Francia-it is irrelevant. Both men were powerful in their chosen areas and the Family as a whole was ascendant in Venetian politics and society.”
The Master paused for a moment and when he continued his voice was much graver. “The next decade and a half were the worst times in the City’s history and very nearly saw the destruction of both it and the House of Boi.”
The two boys sucked in their breath. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped and Cosma swore that Leone had shrank in his seat. Perhaps he had also done so.
And they listened as the Master quietly explained that two years later, a plague hit Venice from the far eastern edges of the world. Bastian’s wife Maria died, and three of his children died, and Filippo’s wife died as did his only child Elisa. The sickness spread and spread and killed and killed till it reached the Atlantic ocean and could go no further, leaving behind a continent purged of many fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers. Enzo, the ostensible head of the family also died, leaving the two brothers with almost nothing left but each other and Venice, because Filippo’s sponsors and many of his men and family were also dead. The Master explained that things got so bad for the two and for Italy in general that he actually received a letter from Filippo during those times. Cosma saw it lying on the desk, still sealed shut with decade’s old wax.
“Things were going dreadfully in the city. It had been quarantined by the King on pain of death as a clear source of the sickness from the East and so the people died trapped like rats on those islands, and the stench and terror was said to be sufficient to drive a man to madness three times over.” The Master sat down, which he never did during lectures. “It was a horrible time to be alive, isolated as this valley is. What it was like to live in the great cities in this land, I cannot imagine.”
In the silence that followed, all three seemed to be lost in thought. Cosma wasn’t though, he was just thinking very hard to himself. “So…they blamed Bastian for the plague?” he said, somewhat hopefully.
“No,” the Master sighed. “He did what he could, which was very little. Despite what I shall impart with you in regards to the organic chemicals and functions of the body, we truly do not know how it works. Perhaps it is some form of miracle that slowly losses potency, I do not know. A few might have blamed the Dux for the plague but there were many angry people and many things to blame when you have no idea. Bastian tried to bring the city back up to the way it used to be but it was slow going. Two years later, the population was increasing again thanks to migrants but the streets were still empty of the vitality of old. And Bastian had more woe to deal with, for you see he married again and was expecting twin girls. They were born healthy enough but the exertion killed his second wife. In the days and weeks afterwards he took to his drink and…assorted vices with greater gusto than he had been noted to have enjoyed previously. He,” the Master looked towards his shelf for inspiration, “slept with women of ill repute.”
Both children gasped, because they were sure that was the correct response. They didn’t necessarily understand though, which luckily the Master seemed to realise, “When you are older, this will become clearer. I do not say that you couldn’t understand now, just that perhaps you do not have to.”
Cosma was getting increasingly confused. With the Master admitting to limits to his endless knowledge, and to truths one could understand now but more so with age and all the rest-the death, especially the death-it was rather too much.
He felt a little sick. Perhaps it was the fruit.
Leone was asking a question however and Cosma nearly missed it. The mention of Filippo though ensured he was paying attention to the answer.
“He returned to Venice and more and more found himself running the family’s affairs and businesses whilst Bastian ruled a broken city. The power vacuum of so many people dying, including politicians and family members meant that other Houses were openly competing for positions and social standing, sometimes violently. As both brothers did not want civil insurrection as well as a population crisis, Bastian eventually convinced Filippo to move the centre of governance from Eraclea to Malamocco on Lido di Venezia, the sandbank island where Venice’s lagoon meets the sea. Bastian did this because it placed the Dux and the ruling council just outside of the majorly developed city areas, across the lagoon from the island and also because he had relocated his own House there following the outbreak of the plague. Filippo believed that the other families would see this as their House attempting to take over…he was correct. But Bastian as a strong Dux and an able leader and administrator, and as the other families were much weaker than they had been before the great sickness, he for the most part got away with it. That process took a long time though, about five years from 737 to 742AD…and by that time, things had gotten much worse for the Dux.”
Cosma reeled at all of the information, and at the maps and at how much power that even a reduced Venice had to be able to control the mainland coastline all around it. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that moving the government away from Italy and into Venice itself and especially onto a much safer island was a great idea. He said so and the Master actually graced him with a full smile. There were too many teeth in it.
“An intelligent response I suppose, with what you know of the situation. The move to centralising government and power within Venice itself was indeed a good idea and probably would have occurred regardless, though over a longer period of time and almost certainly not to the sandbank, that was and still is mostly the domain of a convent rather than merchants. And the Church disliked Venice enough already for its wicked practices of generating wealth and trading with Christians whom were outside of its control-ah, I go ahead of the path once again. Forgive me, but I am pleased you have found your intellect today.”
The Master got up from his chair and reached for a scroll, but he did not unfurl it yet, rather using it to gesture at the boys. “By 740, Bastian was overworked, caught in the twin grips of sorrow and excess that his position and circumstance had led him to. Filippo begged him to rest and cease his destructions but the Dux would not stop. Whilst he had married again, he had not produced any more children and I believe by this time he was already going slightly mad as his father had before him. Brought on by exhaustion and his drinking and his increasingly hot-headed ways, the man became more and more diseased within himself. It was a rot that spread invisibly, but deeply. When the move to Lido had finally been completed, Bastian began spending all of his time on the island and gave his orders either from his own residence there or by letter. He was, noticeably, behaving as a sovereign lord rather than a first citizen. On the rare occasion he did venture into Venice itself, he whored and drank and wasted money in such a capacity that Filippo and he argued bitterly over it in public. When his third wife died in suspicious circumstances and was discovered by churchmen on the sandbank, Bastian was immediately accused and very publically reviled for her murder.”
Cosma and Leone flinched. Murder was a great crime, a greater sin. To commit it upon your own wife on an island of holy men…
“It was a great scandal but worse was to come. Bastian married once more, to what many people suspected was one of his lovers of the evening.” The Master pursed his lips and his face for the first time grew rather disgusted. “She was not of the City, that was for sure. Many suspected it was not her but her belly that earnt her the marriage but-” he glanced at Cosma, “that turned out to be incorrect. She was not pregnant, not for until three years afterwards. No one knew of that though, Bastian kept both her and later her son imprisoned on the island. Out of sight, out of mind.”
The Master paused here and looked gravely at Cosma. “What I tell you next is what I and your uncle have managed to piece together from what we have guessed or worked out from those horrible times. You were born to Felecia and Bastian Boi in 749AD sometime in mid-summer and were taken away within days to be looked after by Rho, a recent migrant worker Bastian’s agents had found upon his request. She spoke little of our tongue and knew nothing of Venice or the civilized world and thus was a safe keeper for you. Bastian, whether in his rage of birthing a…” the Master looked away towards his books again, “de-fec-tive,” he seemed to not agree with his own word, “child or whether you reminded him of his lost children, I cannot speculate very much. Filippo could not understand what he did to you either, though said he had heard and seen of certain occurrences in Italy and beyond that matched your experience…to a degree.”
Cosma was open mouthed and the Master was silent once again. He seemed to be unleashing some great effort from within himself because he looked exhausted after every sentence. Cosma however wanted to know-needed to know-more. Who were these other children? Why was he defective? Why did his father not…see him like his Uncle did?
“What was different from Cosma’s story and the ones the Doge had heard?” Leone asked, curious enough to forget his Latin.
The Master, for the first time in either boys’ experiences, looked as if he did not want to answer. Finding both pairs of eyes on him however, he did so with some reluctance, “The others were dead before or around Cosma’s age, or sold on to curious individuals. Cosma was only forgotten or unknown for the most part, and treated as an abomination the rest of the time.” He sat back down in his chair much more heavily than before and peered over his desk. “Bastian was insane, this is true. But many people view Cosma as a demon, or a walking disease or a judgement from God. Few will actively begin to stone you or lock you away as he did but…in this world at least, you will never be seen as we are. As you are.”
Cosma was stunned. He thought he was stunned. He couldn’t actually be sure because he couldn’t really think properly. It was simply immense, this belief of absolute evil others thought him to be. Were they correct?
Was he in fact, a monster?
In his life going forward, Cosma would often look back upon what the Master said next. It wasn’t exactly nice. It really actually wasn’t nice at all. But it was strengthening, and it was honest and it was good. Perhaps it was even kind. He didn’t used to think the Master capable of kindness. But then again, people didn’t think very much of Cosma either, so he supposed he could stand to believe the Master had a heart if in turn the Master believed he had a soul.
This is what the Master said:
“You will hear their jeers and their remarks. They’ll spit and curse you in the street and make life as uncomfortable as they can for you without too much effort on their own part. And you must be aware of it and remember. Because these people are also fools. I do not teach fools children. I teach the clever to be better. If you were a waste of my time, I would tell you, to your faces, and then throw you from this house tonight. Filippo, having found your barely alive body in that place, could have-should have according to these people-killed you. Put you out of your misery upon this dark world. But he did not. He was my greatest student not because he was the smartest or the most dutiful to my own causes but because he took my lessons to heart. This world and the people within it are more complicated than you and I know, more than the Church knows and more than anyone could ever hope to know. No one so much deserves their place in it as much as they earn their place in blood and pain. One day, you will go back to Venice and in whatever capacity, shall be wielding more power there than most of those morons could conceive of. You will, by the time you leave this house, have received the finest education in the world and still seek more. It is a harsh world out there, harsher than it is for most. But you must go out into it anyway. Don’t listen to how other people tell you to feel or think about yourself; you will be smart enough to do that on your own. By all means listen to those you trust and to the wise, once they have proven your faith and their wisdom, but do not do so blindly. You are a dwarf, and that gives you enemies simply by being, but you can only accept one of those two things. I recommend the former. If I’ve proven my wisdom to you enough yet, I hope you’ll listen.”
He looked at Leone. “You, I will talk to in private. You may go, Cosma.”
And he did, he walked to the door that seemed so much larger than it had a moment ago and went through a much larger corridor till he reached his much larger bed. It wasn’t so much that he had changed, he realised, yet the world around him had. He was smaller now, diminished by eyes he couldn’t see but knew were watching. Their judgement welled his eyes with shame and anger. He hated his father for being cruel, and for ruining Venice and his family. He hated him because he allowed Cosma to be born and to live. He hated him because Bastian wasn’t really a monster but a ruined man with a ruined life, who sought to ruin others because…Cosma didn’t know. He hated the ambiguity.
He hated the fact that if he was going to believe that he was a person no matter what those around him believed or said, then so was Bastian Boi. For the first time Cosma found himself understanding one of the Master’s sayings in a more honest way:
“For it is true that the Truth will never be your slave. If you wish to learn, you must become a slave to it.”
If it took the rest of his life, Cosma would find a better way than that. He wanted people to see him as he was and see others as they were. In that moment however, and in the years and decades to come when he would reflect upon those early days he was rarely honest about this, what Cosma really wanted was to be chained back within the walls of ignorance and to forget everything he just learnt. He wanted to stay within the walls of this house forever and never confront the sea of ignorance but rather surrender to it. But he couldn’t go back, which was the real reason why he was crying.
For it was a great and terrible thing, that the truth had set him free.
...
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Venetian Geography
In CKII, Venice is represented by a single county island that is not connected to the Italian peninsula and requires sea travel to get to. This is somewhat problematic for the purposes of storytelling because its a gross simplification for game purposes. Hopefully I can get into greater detail later but for now keep in your heads that Venice is a city spread across a group of around 118-120 islands in a lagoon bordering the Adriatic Sea and possessed mainland territory as well that was and is considered part of Venice. A causeway and some bridges connect the mainland to the main islands but that was long after the period we are talking about so we'll ignore them (but that's why its in the pictures).AUTHOR'S NOTE
Venetian Geography
This is what Venice actually looks like:
This is where the majority of the infrastructure and what we think of as 'Venice' the city is (Malamocco is the thin grey island on the right, I think):
And this is where Eraclea is in relation to the rest of the province of Venice:
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I think that was a well-written discussion, if not an entirely easy one. A very difficult thing for both boys to hear, though for not entirely the same reason. I would imagine there may be some uncomfortable moments, but it is possible not. Actually, I think Leone might possibly have already made his mind up about Cosma and positively, and with the audacity of youth spurn the idea he may be a devil child. Cosma, however, may find it trickier - he could become quite paranoid now I think. Not unjustly.
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I think Leone will be alright and so will Cosma. It just might take a while.
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A tough story to hear. A feeling of what could have been - hearing how his father was a great man only to fall. And perhaps he may not have been such a brutal man, had tragedy not affected him. Or perhaps the tragedy just revealed who he truly was.
As tough as this is for Cosma to hear, part of his punishment is that he is not capable of living in ignorance. If he did, he would end up dead with some more unfortunate events happening to him along the way. While most can afford to live in the chains of ignorance, or free to be fools as it were, Cosma simply can't and hope to live a good life. He may not be able to anyway, but knowledge is his only shot at surviving.
Good stuff as usual this chapter.
As tough as this is for Cosma to hear, part of his punishment is that he is not capable of living in ignorance. If he did, he would end up dead with some more unfortunate events happening to him along the way. While most can afford to live in the chains of ignorance, or free to be fools as it were, Cosma simply can't and hope to live a good life. He may not be able to anyway, but knowledge is his only shot at surviving.
Good stuff as usual this chapter.
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To see whether a game of Venetian republic playing would be viable, I first played a test game with...randomly generated a Cosma Boi (it was a random name on both and random stats). He ended up being an effective leader, bringing back Venice to prominence after a truly terrible plague (this was just after I got Realers Due, back when it was insanely lethal) and put the House of Boi on top of the world. And then his wife died very very tragically in the last week of plague. He proceeded to lose all of his children, go mad with grief and died of a broken heart within two months.
Cosma became Bastian, and then Cosma once again. It was a story too resonant to let go of I think.
But bastian isn't that Cosma. We don't really know why he went mad or whether he even was (no stats page to let us cheat). In the end Cosma has to try to come to grips with it like all of us, based off of the actions and words of a person rather than having an inner track into their soul. This sort of thing is something that everyone has to deal with at some point: imagining others complexly to achieve empathy, but I realised in this chapter that Cosma has to learn it now or at least begin his journey down it. He can't afford not to and he's too clever and too young to lie to himself about it.
The speech by the Master at the end is a neater culmination of what several people including myself have dubbed the anti-speech to some of the stuff we've heard multiple times through our lives in regards to varying difficulties and disabilities. I apologise if it feels preachy but god knows it's catharsis given form. The Master has his speeches and he'll dish 'em out as he sees fit because that's his character and also because I have a feeling it's the thing he wanted to hear himself when he was very much younger.
Everyone has a story and whilst random stuff is going to happen because people do intensely irrational things, I hope I can try to give some explanation for them, even when the game (or on some occasions, I) do something out of character.
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