Famine
Sometimes Nature could be cruel. For no real reason, it’s just how things were. It happened. One year, in fact, there was a terrible famine, which means it rained so little the harvest was devastatingly poor, less than half the amount they usually reaped. It had hardly rained at all that year and the summer had been very hot. The earth had turned to dust which clung to the farmers’ sticky bodies. They did their best to save what crops they could from the drought. On seeing how bad the harvest was, Arthur’s father quickly realized he would be unable to feed his family the next year. He thought he would ask the marquis if he could keep a little more than the half he was entitled to, if he promised to pay it back the following year.
Early one morning, Arthur’s father set off for Bergamo in his carriage, drawn by the mule. About an hour later, he went through the San Giacomo Gate and under the high Venetian walls enclosing the city and which had just been completed. He headed for the palace of the Marquis. High up on the San Giacomo Gate was the winged lion, symbol of the Venetian Republic, which Arthur liked a lot.
Ubaldo, the Marquis’ old manservant, opened the castle door and greeted Arthur’s father.
“Hello Bontempi, what are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you,” he said, looking him up and down.
Ubaldo had worked for the Trecolli family for twenty years and was in charge of all the servants in the palace. He wore dark red livery which was a little frayed because the Marquis had not bought him a new set for years. Arthur’s father replied:
“I would like to see the Most Illustrious Marquis, I have something very important to discuss regarding the harvest. It was terrible this year.”
In response, Ubaldo said:
“Ah, I thought it might be this that brings you here. You are not the first farmer to come with unusual requests of late. But do not get your hopes up, Bontempi, you know the Marquis.”
Arthur’s father continued:
“Yes, I do but I have no choice. Please ask if I can see the Marquis.”
Two hours later, the Marquis finally received Arthur’s father. He was looking at some papers his clerk had brought him and without looking up from the table, addressed Arthur’s father gruffly, speaking sternly:
“What do you want Bontempi? I am extremely busy and have no time to waste.”
Arthur’s father lowered his head humbly and said quietly:
“As I presume you already know, Most Illustrious Marquis, the harvest this year was terrible.”
“Of course I know!” the Marquis interrupted abruptly, “I’m looking at my clerks’ report on the subject! So what about it?”
“Well,” said Arthur’s father, “I was wondering if Your Highness would be so magnanimous as to leave me three quarters of the harvest this year instead of half, and I will pay the difference back next year, maybe even with some interest on top so you will not lose anything. It would allow me to feed my family, otherwise I don’t know how we will survive.”
“Have you lost your mind Bontempi?” the Marquis snapped. “The rules have been unchanged for three hundred years and none of my forefathers has ever made an exception. I am certainly not going to be the one to start now. If I make an exception for you, everyone will want the same thing and I will have to give up some of my banquets, which I have absolutely no intention of doing, especially this year. Go away now and stop wasting my time, it’s almost lunch time already.”
Arthur’s poor father opened his mouth to speak but not a word came out. He was a simple peasant and did not know what else to say to the Marquis; he wouldn’t have dared either. Head down, he left the Marquis’ chamber and went down the stairs. As he descended, he passed waiters in blue livery carrying large, steaming plates of food upstairs for the Marquis’ lunch. There was stuffed pheasant, ravioli in a wild boar and mushroom sauce, vegetable dishes and a large hazelnut and blueberry pie. Arthur’s father had never seen such delicacies before and his mouth watered. He noticed there were only two waiters and they seemed to be struggling to manage all the serving dishes and decanters. He sat down for a second at the bottom of the stairs, feeling lightheaded out of hunger and worry. He had no idea how he would feed his family on such a poor harvest. Then an idea came to him. He went back up the stairs and knocked on the door of the dining room.
Ubaldo opened the door and glared furiously at Arthur’s father. Through clenched teeth, he hissed:
“What are you still doing here Bontempi? Can’t you see the Marquis is eating? I hope you don’t plan on interrupting him.”
The Marquis heard the noise and said:
“Ubaldo, what’s going on over there?”
“Nothing My Lord. Bontempi is still here, he wanted to ask you something but I will send him away.”
The Marquis would normally not have received Bontempi again but the pasta in wild boar and mushroom sauce was so good, so very, very good, that it had put him in an unusually generous mood. In fact, he said to Ubaldo:
“Very well, let’s hear what the annoying cretin wants!”
Arthur’s father murmured:
“Most Illustrious Marquis, I deeply regret disturbing you again but I have an idea I would like to put to you. Would you consider taking one or two of my children as waiters for the palace? You have known my family for years and they are good boys. At least for a year, so I will have less mouths to feed.”
The Marquis turned to Ubaldo and asked:
“Ubaldo, what do you say? Do we need waiters?”
Ubaldo thought for a few seconds before he replied:
“Well, actually, we are short on staff at the moment, especially after we fired those two waiters last month.”
“Oh yes, those two rascals!” Trecolli said. “We caught them eating my Taleggio cheese in the larder. So, what do you say, Ubaldo?”
“I say that I agree. We have known the Bontempis for many years, we know they are good people and that we can trust them. What’s more, we have many banquets planned for the coming year, as you well know, Most Illustrious Marquis.”
The Marquis wanted to find a husband for his daughter Caterina and was thinking of staging a large number of elegant balls and banquets to which he would invite the highest-ranking nobles from across the city and even the Republic.
“Nevertheless,” Ubaldo added, “I would suggest the Most Illustrious Marquis take only one child as a new waiter to be well-trained. He must be young and bright. I would say, a boy aged ten or eleven.”
Arthur’s father felt his heart break as Arthur’s face came into his head. He was the only boy of that age, there was no other alternative. The mere thought of not being able to see Arthur for a while saddened him. He thought about it for a while but when he saw impatience appear in the eyes of Ubaldo and the Marquis, he answered meekly:
“Very well, I can’t thank you enough. I will send you Arthur.”
On his way home, as darkness fell, a black shape came running towards the cart carrying Arthur’s father back to the farm.
“Papá, papá, why have you been away so long?” cried a cheery voice.
It was Arthur. He flung his arms around his father as soon as he climbed down from the cart. Tears welled in Arthur’s father’s eyes and Arthur noticed right away that there was something wrong. His father