Chapter One part 2

It was well past breakfast time when Jonny woke up. The curtains were already opened, which meant that Marie had already made one or possibly more attempts at waking him from his coma. Jonny groaned and threw the duvet back over his head. He shouldn't have stayed up so late, he knew that. But he couldn't ignore the sudden rush of creativity, he'd had all this music in his head that had to get out, and it was entirely too late to grab his lute and try it out. So he'd written it down. He didn't really know all of the names of the notes he was hearing, but he tried the best he could to describe them and make himself remember them the next morning. Thinking of it now, he couldn't really remember the melody. Curiousness took over and, shielding his sensitive eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the double door windows, he went to the corner of his bedroom, feet sinking into the dark red carpet, and grabbed the lute case.

"Oh, you're up then. Good morning, Jonathan." Marie had come in, probably sent by his mother this time.

Jonny just grumbled something not quite clear, but definitely with an 'm' in it.

"Breakfast is already cleared, but yours is kept in the kitchen for now. Shall I bring it up or would you rather just eat lunch in an hour? Miss Allen will be joining you at lunch, since rehearsal is straight after."

"Oh, fantastic," sighed Jonny. "I'll skip the breakfast, Marie, but thank you."

The more appetite he had, the more time he could spend having food in his mouth, which gave him an excellent excuse to not talk to Lily. The reason why she was chosen to sing at this recital still wasn't exactly clear to Jonny. No doubt his mother's idea. Whether it was intentional or not, she had a knack of finding kids for her son to hang out with, who were not only completely different from anything Jonny was like, they were also either terribly boring or extremely obnoxious.

However much Jonny would've liked to call Lily both, he had to admit she couldn't be labeled boring. For starters, she talked non stop. It usually wasn't all that interesting, but people seemed to like her animated chattering and apparently enjoyed the challenge of trying to squeeze in a few words of their own. The interesting part, which was, to Jonny's self-admitted shame, the worst, was that she was a terrible gossip. No matter how much he despised her, he couldn't stop himself from listening to the stories of this or that family tragedy, intrigue or felony. And she talked of foreign places as if she'd walked the streets herself, although Jonny was sure she hadn't been anywhere near yet, being only thirteen. Funny how she always managed to leave out the stories with a happy ending, too. What he absolutely couldn't stand, though, was that glint in her eye when she talked about people under her. People down in the lower parts of the city, around the market, and the people who worked in the harbour, but also her own servants. She treated them as if they were dirt, just like her mother did. The servants at the Allen house always seemed tired and sad to Jonny.

Jonny sighed a second time, unpacked his lute and quietly closed the door. His notebook, a gift from Ed and naturally a beautiful piece of art on its own, was spread out on the sheets as he sat down and tried to recreate last night's ideas.

"What in the name of the Lord is that?" Lily was standing in the doorway, her arms folded and a mocking expression on that coquettish face of hers.

"Sod off," Jonny said, without much heat.

"Do you call that music? Is it one of your own 'compositions' again, perhaps?" The way in which she said the word made Jonny's toes curl.

"I didn't expect you to understand it, Lily," he retorted, not looking up as he tried to tune a string. It was high time Luigi taught him how to do it properly; lutes were near impossible to tune.
Lily snorted.

"Believe me when I say I've had the best music education in the entire city, I know what it's supposed to sound like. And that is not it. It sounded as if you were confusing two melodies."

"It sounded confusing? Great, that was what I was going for. It's called 'Lily', by the way." Jonny smiled politely.

"I'm telling your mum," she answered smugly. Jonny's mouth went dry.

"You are bloody well not telling her anything," he said quickly, hoping his glance was enough to make her change her mind.

"Oh aren't I? What makes you think that I would listen to you?"

"I could make you mess up at the recital," Jonny said calmly. Here eyebrow lifted, so he continued. "I could start in a different key so you wouldn't be able to reach that high note, or I could decide to stop and let you continue on your own. Or I could -gasp - confuse two melodies."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Do I look like I care about Lord Vanhaemelen or his son's return from wherever-it-was? Besides, I'd gladly take any punishment after seeing you struggle to keep your tone for longer than one measure -"

"Miss Allen, Jonathan, lunch is being served," Marie announced. Lily lifted her chin, turned on her heels and sashayed out of the room. As Jonny walked past Marie out the door, she gave him a small wink, which lightened Jonny's mood a bit. At least one person in this house understood him.

In the dining room, Susan and Ed had already taken their seats. When Jonny came closer, he noticed that they were each unwrapping something. His face lit up.

"Did Cozzie send something?" he asked excitedly.

"Good to see you too, Jonathan." Ed smiled warmly. "In fact, he has. This is yours, right Susan?"

His wife nodded absently, hands busy inspecting the gorgeous fabric of the scarf their brother had sent her from Florence. Ed handed him his own present. It was rather small, and Jonny tried to suppress his disappointment. The feeling was quickly set aside at the sight of the content of the package: a new quill.


My dearest Jonathan,

I'm writing to you from the top of the biggest cathedral I have ever seen and probably will see; the Santa Maria del Fiore. (Not really, but it sounded nice, didn't it.) Everything is so pretty here, Turin is nothing compared to it. It appears that autumn hasn't quite caught up with Italy yet, the weather is splendid. It's funny how we still call it Italy, though; over here we speak of the Republic of Florence. What once was a Kingdom has now split up into several Duchies, Republics and Marquisates, some hardly bigger than their own capital. I suppose I could tell you all about geography and politics when I get back and save the space in this letter for more important matters.
The gift which is enclosed is a quill, as you can see. It is not just a quill, though. This particular quill was allegedly used by the great Guillaume Du Fay during his stay in Cambria, years ago. He used to perform his lute compositions in the cathedral there, and only three quills were found after he left for Rimini. Or so I was told by this rather suspicious looking merchant, who gave it to me for no more than two golden florins. Either way, it's a quill from Italy, make sure you put it to good use. I wish I could listen to you playing already, but I have so many more cities to explore and life lessons to learn, don't I. You'll see me soon enough, when winter is over.
I hope you are well! Give mother a kiss from me.
My next letter will be sent out from Ancient Rome!

All my love,

Colin


Jonny inspected the quill from up close; the feather was painted green and yellow and it was quite possibly the ugliest thing he had ever seen. However, the tip of the quill was in very good shape; it was sharpened in the right shape and filled with a hardening substance to have it last longer. It was no doubt better than his other quills.

Smiling to himself, he felt a rush of warmth for his brother, and he realised he really missed him. When he looked up, Ed was looking at him, smiling. Jonny knew he missed him too, they'd been very close friends up until Coz's departure a month ago. He pretended he didn't see the glistening corners of Ed's eyes when the latter resumed reading his own letter, hand clutching a leather string with a small ivory hanger, undoubtedly something of which only his brother-in-law knew the true value.