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“Yes. Let’s go outside. See what I have planned for you. You can trust me. Remember you asked me to leave the door open, and I did? We must start trusting each other.”
Baron Pisani motioned again, and Dante walked into the hallway, then turned toward the outside door. They went down a short length of hallway, took a turn through an open door, and stepped outside.
Baron Pisani went ahead and Dante stood in the sun, feeling its warm golden rays on his face, for the first time since he was a boy. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he looked around the yard. There was a freshly mown lawn with patches of pink and white wildflowers, and oddly, in its center sat a polished black piano, a sight so strange Dante wondered if it was a delusion. Around the piano were three old men: one lying flat in the grass, the second twirling slowly, and the third standing with his arms folded, looking up at the cloudless sky. They were clean-shaven, bald, and dressed in street clothes.
“Baron Pisani, are they...?”
“Yes. Beppe, Favio, and Ruggiero.”
Dante couldn’t believe it. They looked so different without beards and gowns. “They’re so... old.”
“Yes, you’re the youngest by far.”
“Opera Singer isn’t shouting anymore.”
“No, he stopped.” Baron Pisani smiled.
“Which one is he?”
“The one on the ground.”
Dante looked over. “Is he dead?”
Baron Pisani chuckled. “No, I assure you. He’s more alive than he’s been for nineteen years. That’s how long he’s been here. We have the records.”
“How long have I been here?”
Baron Pisani hesitated. “Fifteen years.”
Dante couldn’t begin to conceive of that amount of time, thoughhe had lived it. It was his entire life to date, as far back as he could remember. “I don’t know my last name. Do you?”
“No, but we’ll talk about it soon. I’m waiting until you’re ready. Okay?”
“Okay.” Dante nodded reluctantly. “Why is the piano here?”
“You’ll see.” Baron Pisani motioned. “Step a little farther out.”
Dante did. “Now what?”
“Now do whatever you want to. Walk around, dance, spin in circles. You decide. That’s what being free means.” Baron Pisani folded his arms, taking on a professorial air. “This is the beginning of my moral therapy. You’ll be treated as a man and respected as such. You’ll make choices for yourself. You’ll be exposed to the arts and taught to read.”
Dante took a few more steps. He swung his arms and kicked his legs, surprisingly light without the manacle and chain. The sun still warmed his face, a soft breeze cooled his brow, and the chirping of birds filled his ears. The air smelled rich and earthy.
His heart felt light until he spotted a broken section in the crumbling stone wall around the yard, which must have been where Lucia came and went. He walked toward the break in the wall, reached it, and ran his fingers over its cool, rough stones and damp olive-green moss.
Baron Pisani caught up with him. “Well, what do you think?”
“I wish she’d come back.”
“She will. Don’t worry.” Baron Pisani patted his shoulder. “It’s better outside than inside, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dante chuckled. “This is crazy.”
Baron Pisani grinned. “No, this is sanity.”
Dante smiled back, focusing on the Baron for the first time. “Are you really a baron?”
“Yes.”
