A fortnight later...
The heavens were beautiful.
A few crickets joyfully chirped under the full moon at its peak, and a modest breeze brushed through the tiny spaces in between the colorful buildings on the Ponte Vecchio. The Arno River reflected the twinkling stars, resembling flickering oil lamps. I felt as if I were tranquilly drifting in a peaceful dream, one I hadn’t had since Joseph came into the world. I didn’t want this moment to end: I wanted Marie and little Joseph to see this alluring ambiance laid before my eyes. I started over the bridge again.
The road on the Ponte Vecchio ended, and I met a paved path that split into two directions. Stopping for an instant, I slowly turned to the left, following the brick-paved path straight to home. I stared intently back, and wished I never left the marvel of the bridge. But my family, although small, was the most that mattered to me, and so, I continued on.
After a few dozen minutes of strolling past negotiatores et vendentes, cardinal red roofs and alabaster white buildings, and the awe-inspiring Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore (the Duomo as the locals call it), the destination I was headed for was only a couple hundred thousand paces away. I made a slight right turn. I was always afraid of this area the most, for the streets were quite dark and it was told that many lost their belongings here to hungry thieves at this time of evening. I assured myself that my safety would not be violated. I was wrong.
I saw a silhouette of a well-dressed man, quite a bit younger than me, leaning against the exterior wall of a building in the Palazzo Vecchio, staring as if he were identifying me. Then, as I stepped into the light of a hanging oil lamp, he charged straight at me, brandishing a silver dagger in his hand, stained with scarlet blood.
“You will die Hugo D’Ambrosio.”
Hesitating almost was the cause of my death. I bolted into the nearly empty streets of Florence, half frightened, half curious to see why I was being chased. I turned several corners, trying to throw my attacker off. After what seemed like hours, I dashed into my home, slamming the door vehemently. Joseph was snuggling up against Marie in the armchair, a book sleeping from Marie’s hands. My quintessential wife was stirring quite a bit, so I didn’t take any time in waking her up completely.
“Marie, Joseph, you have to wake up! There is a man, or men, trying to hunt us down!!!” said I imperatively. I saw Marie’s eyes bat up and down instantaneously. I wasted no time in pulling out three trunks of wood and leather from the storeroom, squeezed tightly in the back of the house. I dragged the hefty trunks with all my strength. My eyes darted back and forth, waiting for Joseph to wake up. She, my wife, shook Joseph awake. He rubbed his drowsy eyes with his scraped hands.
“Mama, Papa, I’m sleepy…” He yawned and stretched his arms widely.
“Fill those trunks with what you need, we’re leaving Florence on the first merchant carriage out of here.” Quizzical looks were worn on my family’s faces, but they didn’t hesitate to start packing. I took out my neatly folded clothes, and placed it into my trunk, then Marie’s clothing, then Joseph’s miniature clothing. They were so small compared to mine, but then again, he was only six. I threw in a few pieces of pottery, all the Florins I’ve ever earned in my entire life, and all my notes in between the piles of clothing. I figured that I could trade the Florins for a different currency in the place where we were going. Who knew, where we were going, when all I wanted to do was protect my family from any harm.
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