A Songbird's Lament

Chapter 3

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Yazlin, who guessed who Maestro Perosi's name was referencing correctly.

The sun was slightly obscured by the gathering storm clouds, like sheep flocking by their shepherd. A few rays of light managed to escape however, and one struck Gabriele right in the eye as he stepped out of the church and sat down on one of the steps. He blinked, momentarily blinded.

Outside and dangerously close to the tavern across the town square from him, his father stood talking to an unfamiliar man in a burgundy velvet frock coat with gold embellishments. Pale powder trailed down the back of his clothes, the obvious source of it being the man's wig. Every once in a while, Gabriele's father would gesture in his direction. Why would his father, a drunkard, be talking to a man in fine and expensive looking clothes?

A slap on the back jolted Gabriele back to reality. Matteo. Looks like somebody had some competition when it came to being the town nuisance.

"Bravo, Gabriele!" Matteo said, taking a seat beside his friend.

"Yes, you sounded sublime," added Lorenzo, who was descending down steps, his imposing form casting a shadow over the boys, "I was a soprano once, when I was younger,"

"But, a few notes, they were a bit flat..." Gabriele said, opening his mouth and to sing the specific part, "I believe it was..."

Unrolling his music, the boy squinted at the paper, then sang the passage. The wig-wearing man's head quickly turned to watch him while his father pridefully smirked and produced a small pouch of coins out of...somewhere.

"The words 'plena est omnis terra gloria eius' mean nothing to me, what do they even mean?" Gabriele said, managing to somehow mispronounce every last bit of Latin.

"Heavens, Gabriele. Did having an angel as your namesake make you forget the word for 'earth'?" Lorenzo joked, a hint of amusement on his face, "It translates to 'All earth abounds with his glory' from Latin, though you are a mere boy and I do not expect you to know a dead language,"

"Oh, don't test him, he may just run off to Napoli to study Latin to spite you," Matteo smiled goofily, knowing full well that he and his friend would both spend the rest of their lives in this town, where they were conceived and born.

But Lorenzo hadn't heard a single word. His eyes were intensely fixated on the man in the wig. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was locked shut but every now and then, his face would twitch slightly, revealing his anger. The two younger boys looked at each other, and Gabriele raised an eyebrow. Lorenzo was usually calm and good-natured. The tense nature of the situation was only made worse by the stiflingly

Waving a hand in front of his face, Gabriele repeatedly called Lorenzo's name. Finally, he appeared to come out of his trance.

"Ah, I apologize. I just saw somebody from my youth who I was not expecting to ever see again," Lorenzo said, giving the boys a tight smile and blinking away tears that he had not expected to see, "Now, run along. I believe I may need a moment to myself,"

After his midday meal, Gabriele changed out of his choir robes and spent most of his afternoon running around town with his friends, causing mischief, wreaking havoc. It was just a regular Sunday for him, until the rain came. It fell in sheets and for all he knew, a very irritated person could have dumped a bucket of water on him from a window. It had happened to him before once. Well, at least the rain was warm, unlike the water.

Hastily, he bade his companions farewell and tried to run in between the large raindrops so he wouldn't be completely drenched by the time he got home. Despite his efforts, by the time Gabriele got home, he looked like he had just jumped into a river. His mother took one look at him, then his mud-covered feet. Dante looked at him quizzically, momentarily putting down his toys.