PZA: Travels with Nicolau Ribeiro 7-8

The Ribeiro's travel to Florence where they attend a banquet at the palace of Lorenzo de'Medici along with Florence's leading philosophers, intellectuals and artisans (including 38 yo Leonardo da Vinci and 15 yo Michelangelo) and learn about their attitudes regarding man-to-man and man-to-boy sex and platonic love. Fourteen-year-old Nico engages in his first sex with adults with mixed feelings and in an afternoon three-way romp which exacerbates the conflict between his religious upbringing, the mixed attitudes of the times, and his homosexual desires.

Florence was three hundred and twenty furlongs away, a quarter of the distance we had travelled between Rome and Pisa, but we broke our fast and were on our way before sunrise, having already arranged for our horses to be ready at that time in that we had expected to be making the long ride back to Rome. Besides, we wanted to arrive in Florence in plenty of time to refresh ourselves before the banquet. The time went by quickly as I tried to recall everything I had said to Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici and what it might have been that had caused his father to reconsider extending Father a letter of credit. Of course I knew that having given the cardinal's ass a good fucking would be reason enough for him to support me and consequently my father, but I hoped that was not the reason. Even though it benefited my father and uncle, it made me no better than a prostitute, and Father would be mortified if he ever found out that was the reason for Lorenzo de'Medici's reconsideration. Despite my deepest concentration and Father's repeated urging, I could not recall anything that I had said that would have caused the cardinal to persuade his father to extend his support, or that would give reason for Lorenzo de'Medici to want to meet with me.

I had been mightily impressed with the antiquity of Rome and with the grandeur and beauty of Pisa. Florence combined both and though I tried not to gawk like a country bumpkin as we rode through the streets, I could not help doing so, so beautiful were the plazas with their statues and fountains, and so grand were the buildings and churches. It being near midday, the streets were crowded, and the closer we got to the centre of the city the denser the crowds became until we reached a plaza where the people were so crowded together we could not force our way through even though on horseback. Standing on a wooden crate placed on a wagon in the centre of the plaza was a man speaking to the crowd, a holy man from his robes and tonsure, and not one given to riches from their simplicity. He was, to be truthful, quite fearsome to look at with his bulging, wild-looking eyes, unkept hair, bulbous nose, and quite truthfully, ugly face, and his shrill and angry voice alone was enough to strike fear in the heart of any man. He was ranting about the excesses and extravagance of the holy church, the corrupt behaviour of the clergy, and the squandering of wealth and the lascivious and sinful lifestyle of the rich and powerful in Florence. The crowd, mostly peasants from the countryside and common labourers from the city, cheered his words and were being worked up to a frenzy by them, much to the discomfort of several on the fringe of the crowd who, though not extravagantly dressed, were evidently of greater wealth than most of the orator's listeners. Having been on the road for the past six hours and wearing plain travelling cloaks, we appeared to be one of the crowd, except we were on horseback which caused some suspicion and drew their attention to us, making me feel quite uncomfortable. It was not unlike the feeling I had while accompanying my Prince Afonso in Castile.

"You are strangers to our city," one of the better dressed men beside us observed.

"Not, I suspect, to listen to our local prophet and doomsayer," the man observed with a faint smile.

"No," admitted Father. "We are here on invitation by one of your citizens, Lorenzo de'Medici."

"Ah, then you definitely are not a follower of the friar," the man said with an even wider smile as he nodded toward the speaker. "I would get thee out of here as quickly and unobserved as possible before the good friar spots you." That Father and Uncle had already concluded, and after getting directions on how to get around the crowd and make our way to our destination, we discreetly backed off and headed up the street indicated.

The Palazzo Medici was a large building dominating those around it. Father said from the architectural style and elaborate facade it was an old building, but clearly well maintained. The steward of the household was summoned and he quickly arranged for someone to take our horses to the ostler, a second man to take our packs, though we could have easily carried our meagre belongings ourselves, a third to show us where we would be staying, and a fourth to notify our host of our arrival. As we followed the young servant assigned to take us to our rooms, a boy barely older than I, I could not help gawking about like a child. The magnificence of our host's palace rivalled that of King João and that of the Catholic Monarchs of Castile, and, I might dare to say, exceeded them in opulence. Fine paintings and expensive tapestries hung on the walls, on ornate wooden stands and marble pillars stood vases so elaborate and so fragile I held my breath lest breathing too deeply would cause them to shatter, and interspersed throughout were bronze and marble statues, many with embedded precious and semiprecious gems. To my relief, I noticed that Father and Uncle were equally impressed and were glancing this way and that also, though as merchants dealing in fine merchandise, for them that was not unexpected. We were told our host would meet with me late that afternoon and I fretted and paced for several candle marks before a young page located me and announced he had come to escort me to my audience.

To my surprise Lorenzo de'Medici did not look at all like a banker or what I would expect the leader of a city to look like. He was only forty-one, just two years older than Father and six years younger than Uncle Paolo. His dark, shoulder-long hair was curly and thick, and he had a dark, closely-trimmed beard and moustache. What struck me most was his swarthy complexion, darker than most I had seen in Rome or Pisa, and his dark, penetrating eyes. He began by asking me about Castile's Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, and what I knew about their relationship with Pope Innocent VIII. He was most interested in anything I knew about the Pope, and especially about his mistresses and bastard children, and about the sexual indiscretions and other immoralities of the cardinals in Rome that I had revealed to Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici, and especially anything I knew about those who were potential contenders for the Papacy upon the death of the Holy Father, especially any behaviour that would be considered inappropriate for men of their position.

In that the information he wanted to confirm or know more about had been part of my confession to Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici the day before, I was shocked and at first angry that the cardinal had revealed what I had told him considering the confession is a private and confidential matter. However, from the intensity of his questions and the severe look on his face, it quickly became evident to me that he was as incensed by the sacrilegious behaviour I had seen as I had been, and realizing the reason for his questioning, I admonished myself for my quick judgement of him and revealed to him everything I knew. (1)

Of course as a banker he was interested in King João's efforts to find the Kingdom of Prester John and alternative routes to the spice lands of the far east, and of course of Father's mission to the Kongo and now to Cairo. I must confess I bragged about the treasures we had brought back from the Kongo, and of the skills of Father and Uncle, and of King João's trust in them. Lord Lorenzo was most impressed to learn that I had been named King João's special envoy to Cairo and Jerusalem and a Knight of the Order of Santiago.

"Well," he finally said, "you are truly as knowledgeable, and insightful, as my son Giovanni said you were. Your information will be most valuable, and I thank you for it."

"I am glad that I could be of some service to you, Signore Medici," I replied, realizing he was dismissing me and wondering what I could do to further Father's request for funding, feeling that I really had not done that much. "There is one other thing I learned in Rome, but I am sure you already are aware of it," I began hesitantly.

"Yes. I met a boy in the Sistine Chapel Choir who is from Florence, a boy by the name of Salmino, who told me there were some who would drive those who presently govern Florence out of the city and seize their property, and he named names."

"Yes. That is the name he said. He said he was a man who would sway whichever way benefited him the most."

His brow furrowed as he thought about what I had said. "I would not have suspected Valeri would go so far, but this Salmino's description of the man's character is true enough. The common labourer in the street oft knows more than those who lead. That is indeed important knowledge to keep in the back of my mind. If it is true, the Medici family will owe you a great debt. Did he perhaps mention the name Tornabuoni during your conversation?" (2)

"Indeed he did, but not as one of the discontented. Rather, he said the Tornabuoni family was a great supporter of the Medici's, and that they were among the aristocrats targeted to be overthrown should the populace be so aroused to do so." (3)

"Hmm. Well, that restores my faith in friendships and family," he said with a smile as he got to his feet. "I thank you once again, Signorino Ribeiro."

Blushing with the unexpected honorific and my mind suddenly turning to mush, I managed to express again my hope that my information was of some value and I hastily made my exit. Father and Uncle of course wanted to know every detail of my conversation with our host when I returned to our room. Father said I had been right in revealing any threats to the Medici family, and any unchristian behaviours I had witnessed, and to my relief, did not ask me to reveal to him just what those behaviours were. I would have been mightily embarrassed if I had been asked to.

We dressed in our finest for the evening repast, Father and Uncle insisting I wear the cape with the insignia indicating I was a knight of the Order of Santiago that I had been given by King João, to which I fastened with fond memories and pride the silver horse Prince Afonso had gifted me. Though I thought the fine clothes that I had worn the day of my recognition in Lisbon were already ostentatious without the cape, I deferred to the wisdom of my elders. Upon entering the main hall and seeing the finery the guests and our host were wearing, I was glad that I had.

Excluding our host, Father, Uncle and me, I counted fourteen others present, four boys close to my age, two elderly men who looked to be in their late fifties, and the rest ranging in age from young men in their late teens and early twenties to men close to Father and Uncle's ages. Introductions were made and we stood around and talked while servants kept our wine glasses filled and replenished the platters of little cubes of several different cheeses, stuffed mushrooms, little cones of pasta filled with a paste that I thought was quite enjoyable until Uncle told me later much to my revulsion was calf liver, and little pieces of meat in a spicy sauce I found quite tasty until Giovanni revealed they were snails!

Surprised at such unusual food and such small portions and how slowly the guests were consuming them, and that we were eating while walking around and talking instead of sitting at a table, I found the Florentine way of eating their evening repast most strange indeed and had just concluded it was going to take several candle marks before I had eaten enough to satisfy my hunger, when our host suggested we sit and the servants brought out platters of food and set them before us as I was more accustomed to. Although the variety of food was not as extensive as had been served at the ninth birthday party for King João's bastard son, Jorge de Lencastre, there was plenty and to my relief it consisted of foodstuffs I could recognize.

"Our guests from Portugal were treated to one of Friar Savonarola's speeches this afternoon," our host observed.

"Which one was it this time? His call to burn books corrupting our youth, which for him is every book except the Bible? To destroy immoral art? A rant about the corruption of the clergy?"

"Something should be done about him," grumbled Piero de'Medici, our host's eldest son who at the age of eighteen was one of the youngest of the men present. "He is becoming a nuisance."

"He is dangerous, inciting the people like he does," observed a man who had been introduced as Giovanni Cavalcanti, a man whom I figured was close to Uncle's age. (4)

"Dangerous? I think not. The man is crazy. Claiming he speaks directly with God, and with the saints. Nobody with any intelligence would believe him," snorted another of the younger men by the name of Francesco Granacci. (5)

"But that is the problem. Those who are uneducated believe him, and he is gaining more and more followers each day. Mark my words, he is a danger to every man who appreciates the finer things in life, which includes everyone in this room," countered. Giovanni. Several nodded in agreement.

"Bah! Prophecies. They are nothing more than educated guesses what will happen based on observations and common sense," snorted a man who had been introduced as Marsilio Ficino as he waved about a stalk of celery as if he were going to hit someone with it. He was one of the oldest men there, his curly, shoulder-long, light brown hair showing streaks of grey and his face wrinkled with age. He was, I noticed, a vegetarian, and I could not help wondering if he ate a bit of meat if it might not fill in his sunken cheeks. I could not envision not eating meat and the thought of never having tasted Mother's famous mutton stew or a choice slice of Uncle Paolo's venison roasted on a spit sent a shiver up my spine. (7)

"But that is not how the common people see them. I would not dismiss Savonarola so quickly. There will be a day when he will lead the people in a rampage through the city, stealing and destroying the fine wonders that the more refined have amassed," argued Giovanni, gesturing at the fine paintings and statues around the dining hall.

"Ah, Signore Giovanni, is that a prophecy?" asked Michelangelo, a boy no more than a year older than myself with dark, bushy hair, a curl to his lips, and an impish sparkle in his otherwise piercing eyes, to the laughter of the others. (8)

"What say our guests from Portugal? You have travelled places none of us have seen. Have you heard such ranting and grumbling as you heard today elsewhere?" asked one of the oldest men in the group, a man by the name of Antonio Pollaiuolo. (9)

"I cannot say I have," replied Father, "certainly not with such vehemence." "Though the clamour and discontent of the poor and the envious and covetous eye of those who have not on those who have are not limited to Florence, nor the Holy Roman Empire. It is in all lands," observed Uncle Paolo, to which everyone nodded agreement.

"It is of enough consequence to be a topic of discussion by the boys in the Sistine Choir," Lorenzo observed, glancing at me.

Uncomfortable with having such attention drawn to me, especially by so many adults and such distinguished individuals, I revealed with some embarrassment what I had heard, without naming names of course not knowing who was connected to whom.

"Next thing you know they will be demanding the addition of fig leaves on your engraving of the Battle of the Nudes," observed Michelangelo with a grin as he looked at Antonio.

"No doubt," agreed Leonardo da Vinci, another man whom I noticed was only eating vegetables. He was an imposing man, tall and exceptionally handsome, who had immediately impressed me by his appearance and manner, and who had left me quite awestruck when I had heard his name. The learned painter and sculptor was well known even in Portugal, and not just by those involved in the merchant trade. (10) "You might consider having it locked up. And as for you, Count Giovanni," he continued, addressing a man in his late twenties sitting across from him who had been introduced as Count Giovanni Mirandola, "you had better hide your copy of your thesis on cabalistic magic, and even more so your most recent book, Heptaplus. An excellent piece of literature, but I doubt our Dominican friar would look favourably on your mystical account of the creation of the universe." (11)

"Savonarola might as well burn them, and the rest of my library," Count Giovanni replied sourly. "Since the Holy Father forbade any discussion on my thesis of cabalistic magic or any further studies in that regard, no scholar will openly discuss it. And I am sure any day now Pope Innocent will decree the same of Heptaplus. At least his charge of heresy puts me in the same good company as our friend Marsilo," he added with a smile.

"Thank the Lord that not all men agree with our Holy Father on such matters," observed Marsilo, "and that there are men like our gracious host who supports and encourages critical thinking as well as fine art. May you live a long and prosperous life, sir." Everyone heartily agreed to that and drank to our host's health. (12)

"So tell us, what have you been working on in Milan, Leonardo?" asked our host. "I hope Duke Sforza has been a good patron." Everyone turned to listen and from their attentiveness it was evident that despite their own fame and success, each held the man in deep reverence.

"More than good, though no match for yourself, my Lord." Lorenzo nodded his appreciation. "I actually have several new sculptures I am working on, and ideas for others. But who knows what lies below the surface until I take chisel to the stone?"

"What do you mean by that?" Uncle Paolo asked. "Are you acquainted with the writings of Plato, Signore?"

"Only vaguely," Uncle responded. "There is little need for a merchant to be versed in the writings of the ancient Greek philosophers."

There followed a discussion about Plato and his books, about the existence of something called Form, and something else called the intelleto, all of which I did not understand. From that the conversation turned to the renovations being done on the Papal Apartments and the Sistine Chapel in Rome and various architects, artists and sculptors who had or were rumoured to be invited to do work. I knew a little about such things from working with Father and Uncle, but not enough to follow the conversation. Besides, I sat there in awe being in the presence of the great master Leonardo da Vinci whose work was well known in Portugal, and in the presence of these other great men.

"If you can believe it, there are those who would call a painting of the baby Jesus sucking the virgin Mary's breast sacrilegious."

"Or the depiction of a woman's leg obscene," observed a man close to Father's age who had been introduced as Leonardo Tornabuoni, but whom everyone called Leo. Recognizing his family name when he had been introduced, I was gladdened that I had not said anything negative about him or his family in my conversation with Lorenzo de'Medici. Only later did I learn the two were related through Lorenzo's mother. It was a reminder to use discretion when naming others in the future.

"There are even those who take offense to any depiction of nudity whatsoever, male or female. Savonarola would have us destroy all such paintings or sculptures."

"Now, I would find a depiction of Savonarola in the nude offensive, painting or sculpture," observed Michelangelo, to the amusement of everyone.

"On the other hand, an athlete in the prime of his youth, that is a much different matter," observed Francesco, glancing over at a vase depicting several youth tossing javelins.

"The ancient Greeks knew how to appreciate beauty. Having young boys practice in the gymnasia naked, what could be a more beautiful sight, or anything more natural?"

"Indeed. Who's heart cannot be stirred by a young, innocent boy on the verge of discovering his sexuality in all his splendour?" asked Leo.

"There would be far less crime by the young and fewer idle youth if it was still considered a man's duty to take a young boy under his care and teach him what is required of him, to mentor, protect and love him," observed our host.

"And a far more tolerant and knowledgeable world. Just as Plato said only with men can the Greek male reach full intellectual potential, so it is for all males," agreed the man beside him, a quiet, reserved man who had been introduced as Angelo Poliziano, as he looked at Lorenzo's sons and nephew pointedly. (13)

"After all, it is just as he said, the highest form of love is that between males," added Leonardo.

"Assuredly. The highest form of love cannot be for a woman, for a woman is not worthy of a wise and virile heart," observed Michelangelo. (14)

"And the highest form of love of all, is amor platonicus, platonic love," observed Marsilio.

"Platonic love is that special kind of friendship between men based on the love of God, a spiritual, chaste love that goes beyond sexual desire. While I fully recognize and appreciate corporal beauty and sexual attraction between men, I believe one can have too great a love for the body."

"One can never have too great a love for pleasures of the flesh," challenged Michelangelo. I sensed a touch of arrogance in his voice and was surprised by his brashness given the age of most of those about the table.

"A man who loves fine food too much becomes obese. A man who loves fine wine too much becomes a drunkard. A man who loves engaging in sex with other men too much becomes vulgar. Excess in any pleasure is wrong."

"So you are in favour of sex between men but would have them practice it in moderation?" asked Uncle.

"And you are among those who believe God does also?" asked Michelangelo. I noticed again the challenge in his voice, and a hint of anger.

"Our best hope is to remember God understands how difficult and dangerous is the province which He has given us to live in and govern."

"Yet you do not deny that in his Symposium, Plato wrote that sex between men is superior to that between a man and woman, which he said is lustful and engaged in only for reproduction, whereas men engage in it out of love for each other," countered Angelo in support of Michelangelo.

"And further, you cannot ignore his claim that sex between men is regarded as shameful by barbarians and by those who live under despotic governments, just as philosophy is regarded as shameful by them because it is apparently not in the interest of such rulers to have great ideas engendered in their subjects, or powerful friendships or passionate love, all of which sex between men is particularly apt to produce," countered our host, to the loud agreement of his guests.

"Everything you say is true," Marsilio agreed, throwing up his arms in surrender, "but remember Plato's beliefs and teachings were greatly influenced by his society and culture of that time. I only try to put his philosophy in perspective of our society and culture of today. I am just saying if one focuses only on physical love he will never achieve the highest and purest form of love, platonic love. And remember also, although Plato did not condemn sex between men, he did recommend prohibition of sex between men and boys, saying that the practice promoted civil strife and drove many to their wit's end."

"What the great thinker did was acknowledge the sexual attractiveness of a young boy and that his innocence and charms can drive a man mad," observed Michelangelo sharply, his temper rising. He was, I had noticed arrogantly confident besides hot tempered.

"And acknowledge that the sexual desire for an attractive young boy can distract a man from his duties," countered Marsilo calmly. "I am simply saying the sexual desire between men can do the same."

"And on that I think we all agree," interjected our host, evidently trying to keep peace between the two. "Moderation and exercising control is the key, as it is in all things."

"Are you saying that sex between a man and boy is acceptable?" asked Father, unable to hide his surprise hearing such a comment from a father and a man of such distinction as Lorenzo de'Medici.

"Acceptable, even honourable. The duty of a man with regard to young boys is to mentor, protect and love, and love includes engaging in sex if the two are so inclined. I myself am not of such inclination, toward boys or men, but I recognize the beauty and attractiveness of a young boy, as I think everyone here does, even you Marsilio."

"And surely, if you believe that we can only hope that God understands the difficulty that is of His own making, then you must also," observed Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici. (15)

"The courts certainly do," observed his brother Piero, to the amusement of the others.

"And when was the last you heard of a man being put to death for this crime?" Piero countered, to which Father had to admit he had never. "And a good thing, or one out of every twelve men in Florence would be hanging from the gallows on the morrow," observed a man called Sandro, a quiet man who had seldom spoken. (16)

"We have a young scribe at the Studium from the German Empire. He says the slang word in Germany for men who have sex with other men is Florenzer," observed Cardinal Giovanni.

"Or perhaps both are good comments," countered Lorenzo. "Our great city is known throughout Europe as a leader in new ideas and modern thought. We are well on the way to becoming what Athens was to Ancient Greece. It is the rest of the world that is behind Florence." The others readily agreed.

"And now, enough of such serious talk," said our host. "Let us retire to the Garden. Leonardo, I saw you brought your lyre with you. I am anxious to hear the latest tunes from Milan."

The garden was immense, and the most beautiful of all the gardens I had seen in Lisbon, Madrid, Rome or Pisa, filled with shrubs and trees of every hue of green, gorgeous flowers, fountains, waterfalls and beautiful marble and bronze sculptures. We sat near one of the fountains and a bronze sculpture I was told was made by the renown sculptor Donatello some fifty years ago specifically for the Medici family. It stood about one and a half metres tall and was of a naked youth combining David with the head of Goliath at his feet and Mercury with his winged shoes and pointed hat. The servants accompanied us and served a sweet after dinner wine. Lorenzo began by playing the lyre and singing a few songs he said were currently popular with minstrels in Milan. He then handed the lyre to Marsilo who sang several Orphic hymns in Greek and although I could not understand the words he had a wonderful voice and the songs sounded beautiful.

Cardinal Giovanni I discovered was also musically talented and played several tunes on the lute and a strange stringed instrument which he struck with a small hammer. Neither Father, Uncle nor I had seen such an instrument and we were told it was called a dulcimer, common in the Holy Land and the Byzantine Empire but only recently introduced in Rome and Florence. Uncle was particularly fascinated by it and was given an impromptu lesson on how to play it. Our host recited some beautiful poems he had composed, and Michelangelo some sonnets he had written. A panpipe was found for Father and he played several tunes common in Viano do Castelo and he and I sang several songs from our homeland. Uncle entertained everyone with several ditties that the sailors sang at sea, some of them quite racy and thoroughly enjoyed by everybody.

"This has been a most enjoyable evening," said Marsilio finally, "but it is growing late. I thank you for your hospitality Signore Lorenzo, and your generosity, but I fear I must bid you young folk goodnight."

"And I," said Sandro. "I have a busy day on the morrow, and morning comes all too soon."

"So do I," said Piero also getting to his feet. "I bid goodnight to you Father, and our honoured guests," he said, bowing to his father and the rest of us. "And I will take Giuliano and Giulio with me. They can barely keep their eyes open."

"It has been a long day for me," observed Uncle. "As interesting and enjoyable as the company has been, I am afraid I too must retire." Father similarly agreed.

"I will accompany you to your rooms," Lorenzo said, "and retire myself. The rest of you," he said, gesturing to the rest of us, "please stay and enjoy the evening."

"Only momentarily. Fine wine or cheap wine, it all ends in the same place, and it seems the older one gets the less one's bladder can hold."

"There is no need to go all the way to the privy," Cardinal Giovanni observed. Looking around, he motioned to one of the servants. "Signore da Vinci has need of a chamber pot," he called.

A few moments later a young servant of perhaps ten or eleven hurried forward with a chamber pot. Stepping a discrete distance away from us and turning his back, Leonardo parted his robes and soon there was the sound of a pot being filled by a stream. Somewhat embarrassed, I diverted by eyes until Michelangelo drew everyone's attention to what was happening. As I turned to look, I saw the servant boy standing there white knuckling the handles of the chamber pot with both hands, his eyes focussed on the rim of the pot. With it practically filled to the rim, he slowly turned and with his lips pressed together tightly in concentration, he slowly carried it away.

"Now that was all that is admirable about youth," Michelangelo observed as Leonardo rejoined us. "Did you see the look of innocence and the determination to serve and to please on his face, and the curiosity and temptation to look just a finger's thickness higher to view the pipe filling the pot? How sweet is the blush of a young boy's cheeks at the brink of puberty when all the world, and especially the world of sex and love is still a mystery and a temptation."

"Truly it was a boy such as that who Plato said causes a man to lose his wits," observed Leo.

"Is it true what Marsilio said, that Plato actually said that pederasty should be prohibited?" asked Giovanni.

"It is so," said Leonardo as he held up his goblet and a servant immediately appeared and filled it, "though his intent is not so clear. Some say he opposed the morality of the custom at that time of men and boys freely engaging in sex, others say that he was opposed to the practice because it distracted men from performing their duties, and because men could become obsessed with such activity. I tend to believe his objection was in reference to the latter and I can speak from personal experience in that regard. An attractive, curly-headed young boy of ten by the name of Gian Giacomo Caprotti da Oreno has recently entered my household as an assistant, and I confess, the little devil has already seduced me with his beauty and sexual charms (17)

"There is no shame in that," observed Francesco. "You would not be the first master to become enticed by his student."

Francesco glanced at the others, and then over at the servants standing a discrete distance away. Giovanni caught on quickly. "I think we can serve ourselves from this point on?" he suggested, glancing around at us, and we readily agreed. Having the servants leave the pitchers of wine and plates of fruit with us, he dismissed them for the evening. "So," he asked again, "like Marsilio and Giovanni?"

"Do you really think their love is strictly platonic?" asked Michelangelo, looking at Leonardo for his opinion.

"Not from the way they were looking at each other tonight. I suspect once they were away from prying eyes they walked home hand in hand," he replied. "And likely once they got home, each had something else in hand," he added, to everyone's amusement. (18)

"Nicolau, tell the others of your experience in the Kongo," urged Cardinal Giovanni. "With the young black savage," he added in case I did not know which part he was referring to.

I was hesitant to speak of my voyage to the Kongo, my role so minor compared to the talents and achievements of those present, and even more hesitant to speak of such an intimate matter as Cardinal Giovanni requested, particularly with those who were still strangers to me, and especially with men the age of my father. They urged me to speak, however, and my tongue loosened by too much wine, I found myself speaking of the voyage in great depth and revealing to them in great depth the most intimate details of my experience with the young black savage. "They may perhaps have been savages, but not barbarians," observed Leo, referring to the comment attributed to Plato earlier about those who accepted sex between those of the same gender and those who did not.

"It is interesting that they offered their young girls first, and then their sons," observed Michelangelo. "Was it because they expected you to prefer females, or did they offer them because they were less valued and saved the more worthy gift for the more discerning guests?"

"I do not know," I replied. "To be honest, it is only this evening that I have heard the view that sex between men is considered to be of a higher value."

"It is, despite what those of the opposite sex might claim. You say they expected this gift of their sons to you and your father and uncle to be consummated together in the same room, and it was?" asked Leonardo.

"Yes, though I do not know for sure that it was. Consummated that is. It was very dark and it was all so very new and frightening to me. I really do not know if Father and Uncle, well, did it."

"I thought your uncle was particularly interested in the conversation tonight about pederasty," observed Francesco, causing me to wish I had not spoken in such detail, especially concerning Father and Uncle, and causing my ears to turn red with embarrassment.

"Father, uncle, and son, each delighting in the pleasures of the flesh with a young boy, in the same room," said Francesco as he squirmed on his bench, "now that is truly erotic."

"Indeed," agreed Cardinal Giovanni with a sigh, running his hand over his crotch.

"That these savages recognized and accepted the sexual attraction between men and boys is most interesting," observed Leonardo. "It shows an appreciation of man-boy relationships such as the ancient Greeks would approve."

"It shows even ignorant savages believe that the greater love is between men, and it is as I said, that women are not worthy of the virile heart of men," Michelangelo observed.

"What surprises me is that even in such an ignorant culture they recognized the beauty of a boy," observed Leo.

"It is," agreed Leonardo. He took a long sip of his wine. "Speaking of beauty, you would make an excellent model for a sculptor or painter, Nicolau." Having been relieved the conversation had veered away from the Kongo and my father and uncle and having returned to a normal complexion, I immediately blushed with embarrassment again.

"A painting, to catch that colour in your cheeks," observed Michelangelo with a grin. "Such sweetness, such innocence," he said with a sigh, causing me to blush even more.

"You appear to know quite a bit about your young guest from Portugal," observed Michelangelo, causing my heart to skip a beat.

"I would dare to say you appear to be quite fond of him," added Francesco, increasing my dismay. "Or have you slipped one of the Chorzio sausages from our evening repast in your breeches for a midnight snack?"

"I am not the only one who has slipped a Chorizo in his breeches," he replied, glancing at Leo's crotch. I followed his glance and quickly looked away. The man's arousal was very evident once it was pointed out.

"Leo is a very healthy and virile man," Leonardo said in support of his friend. "Besides easily aroused, especially by a beautiful youth," he added with a sly grin.

"Says a man who has confessed to us this night his ten-year-old assistant has stolen his heart, and whom I know becomes as hard as the marble he sculptures at the sight of a young boy's smooth cheek."

"Either. Both," Leo responded with a grin as he glanced over at Leonardo, "as everyone can see." The man's arousal was also evident.

"Well, when one's mind has gone to all that effort to arouse the flesh, it would be a shame not to reward such effort," Giovanni observed. "Would you not agree Nicolau?"

Flustered and unaccustomed to such intimate talk, I could think of nothing to say and sat there blushing like a new bride on her wedding night.

"We know you have engaged in sex with a boy half your age," said Leonardo. "Have you had experience with any boys older?"

"Yes," I replied, knowing there was no point in denying it, and knowing from the conversation that evening that the present company took no offense to such conduct. "Boys my age, or a year or two older."

"Boys, not just a boy," observed Leo with a smile. "Giovanni was right. You are not so innocent."

"Oh no, not at all," I replied, eager not to offend anyone and not realizing that my eagerness might be taken for something else.

"That is quite clear," observed Michelangelo, looking down at my breeches and causing me to turn still redder even though I knew everyone else was in that condition. My face had never felt so hot.

"Now here we have proof of the wisdom of the ancient Greeks," observed Francesco. "By the time a Greek boy would have reached Nicolau's age he would have found an older man to take him under his protection and care and who would have taught him how a man loves a man."

"Well, it is not too late to rectify that omission, that is if you are willing of course," said Leo with a meaningful look.

"I am," I brashly replied without a moment's thought. I have oft heard Uncle say that a man's pecker controls his brain, and this was definitely so.

"Yes," I replied, surprised at the huskiness of my voice, and at my brashness. If any of the others noticed the throatiness of my voice, they said nothing.

"Ah, but now we have a dilemma. Who will teach this cherub what? And who shall go first?" asked Leonardo.

I sat there mute, unable to believe this conversation. They spoke so openly of such intimate matters in front of me, and in the presence of the others. I had a strange thought that none of this was real, or that I was an innocent bystander listening in on the conversation between two strangers. It came, I suppose, from being a bystander listening in on much of the conversation of that evening, much of it being beyond my comprehension. The two men studied me, both deep in thought.

"I propose I demonstrate a particular sexual technique on the boy, and he then copies and practices it on you, and then you demonstrate a technique and he practices on me," suggested Leo, looking at first at Leonardo and then at me. "An excellent idea."

Approaching me and having me stand, Leo untied my doublet and removed it and my shirt and then looked at my upper torso as I have seen men and boys look at girls, which made me feel self conscious, but which I also found arousing. I then turned to Leonardo and removed his doublet and shirt, revealing a very muscular and hairy chest. From the firmness of his muscles he was evidently athletic besides artistic. I examined him as Leo had examined me though, I have to admit, not with the same degree of appreciation. When I thought about it later that evening upon retiring, I concluded that perhaps it was a sign that I really did not have a desire to have sex with men. Of course, countered the other side of my mind, it could be because I had not had the good fortune to have had a man to mentor me earlier in my life.

Leo next removed my breeches, shoes and hose, and I then did the same to Leonardo, though with far less expertise. It is surprising how difficult undoing ties and buckles are when they are done in reverse. My heart speeded up and I glanced at the floor with a moment's embarrassment as Leo drew down my underpants and my stiff member sprang to attention, and my cheeks burned as both he and Leonardo commented on the beauty of my erect penis. Turning to Leonardo with my heart still racing, I untied and drew down his underbreeches and discovered to my delight that he was still erect, making my own condition less embarrassing. I had of course seen the penises of several men by this time, some erect, but never had I seen a cock as thick and as long as the one now presented to me, nor so close. His prickhead, like mine, had a bulblike shape, unlike others I had seen that had more of a helmet or mushroom shape. His testicles were huge, like hen's eggs, and hung in a hairy, pendant sac.

Turning me around so I was facing him and kneeling before me, Leo bowed his head and ran his tongue around the shaft of my member in a tight spiral, beginning at the base where my testicles joined my member and circling his tongue round and round, the final spiral being around the sensitive rim of my bulb and up the cleft on the underside of my bulb to end at my peehole. As his hot, moist tongue ran along the rim and up along the cleft, my member jerked uncontrollably with desire. He repeated the process several times, each time causing my member to jerk.

"There is nothing more delicious than a young boy's cock," he observed, "nor possessing such an exotic fragrance." He paused as if savouring the taste and smell of my prick, and then continued to lick my stiff, aching member, sending ripples of arousal through my cockhead and causing my cock to ache in a desperate need to squirt my seed. He paused frequently, giving me time to enjoy the strange, painful pleasure that was causing my bulb to itch as if I had brushed it against stinging nettle but at the same time was so desirable I wanted him to run his tongue around the rim again. After several more times, how many I do not know as in my excitement I forgot to count, my peehole burned especially strongly and to my surprise a clear droplet of liquid oozed out of it. To my even greater surprise, Leo lapped it up with the tip of his tongue, and the droplet that immediately appeared after it. "Nor is there a nectar so delicious to the palate, as the clear, delicate nectar from a young boy's balls that precedes the release of his seed."

So saying, he turned me around to face Leonardo. I eyed his humongous cock hesitantly. As I have mentioned, it was the largest member I have ever seen, just over two hands long and so wide that if I were to wrap my fingers about it they would not touch my thumb. I had, of course, tasted cock before, but not a man's, and I stuck my tongue out hesitantly, uncertain what I would find. What I found, much to my relief, was that there was no difference in taste between the cock of a boy and that of a man. It was only much larger and so much more to lick. So I spiralled my tongue around his shaft from his hairy balls to the rim of his bulb and up the cleft to his peehole just as had been done to me, and was rewarded, to the delight of others and especially my mentor, by his member jerking with arousal just as mine hand. I repeated the licking action over and over, wondering if his member would do as mine had done and if so what the taste of that droplet would be like, and if I would have nerve enough to find out. I cursed myself for not having counted the number of times Leo had done it so I would know when to expect it, not knowing then, of course, that the number of times varied from time to time and from man to man. Leonardo, knowing this was the first time I had ever licked a man's penis, found the experience as arousing as I did and I did not have to wait long before I also coaxed out a droplet of that clear liquid, which, to my surprise, I did not hesitate sampling. It was, I discovered, slightly slimy with a mildly sweet taste so fine to be almost imperceptible, like a watered down wine.

I was turned around once more and Leo again bowed his head, this time slipping his lips over my stiff cock, which was half the length of Leonardo's. Slipping them down to the very base and then pressing them together, he began to suck as he slowly eased them up and down the shaft and over my bulb. He did so ever so slowly and paused frequently to swallow his saliva and to allow me to enjoy the pleasure of having my cock sucked, and, I suspect, to allow himself the pleasure of sucking it and savouring his prick-flavoured saliva. Eventually of course I felt the inevitable, and I warned him that I was about to squirt. To my delight he did not try to stop it from happening, as I am not sure I could have been able to stand waiting any longer. To my surprise, he did not remove his mouth either, and moments later I was squirting my seed into his mouth. He immediately began to swallow it. As he sucked me dry, I could not help jerking my hips to and fro, working my stiff, itching cock in and out of his mouth. I had just been sucked off by a man, a man almost Father's age, while being watched by two boys and a young man of twenty-one and another thirty-eight-year-old man whose cock I was about to suck!

One would think that I would be self-conscious and hesitant, but flushed with the pleasure of my ejaculation and the anticipation of bringing the same unique and intense pleasure to an adult, and not just any adult but the famous Leonardo da Vinci, I eagerly turned and slipped my lips over the man's huge, stiff member. I felt no shame nor guilt doing so, I suspect because of the conversation earlier that evening. I, of course, could not go all the way down his member, and as it was, my mouth felt full just having his cockhead in my mouth. My tutor guided me, telling me to go down slowly to get use to having a man's cock in my mouth, and to breathe through my nose. I did as I was told and was able to take three quarters of his monstrous member in my mouth without choking. I then began to do as I had done to other boys, and again my tutor guided me, telling me to slow down to enjoy what I was doing, and to allow my partner to enjoy the pleasure I was giving him. That thought, that this famous man was enjoying the pleasure I was providing, caused my cock to twitch, something which did not go unnoticed by the others.

Sucking on his member and working my lips up and down his thick shaft and over his cockhead, I inhaled deeply and delighted in the fragrance of cock and sweaty balls as I delighted in the unique taste of male flesh. I thought of our early conversation, about the superiority of man over woman, of platonic love and the superiority of love between men since for men having sex with each other was not a duty and not a necessity to continue the family but was purely for pleasure, one's own, and bringing that pleasure to another. I thought about their comments about love between men and I thought of Ahmar and our love and how enjoyable our sex together had been, and I realized now for the first time why that had been. And I thought about the conversation about the ancient Greeks and their practice of men instructing boys in the art of lovemaking and in all ways of becoming a man. Kneeling there in the Garden of the Pizza San Marco with the two men and the others in front of the bronze statue of Donatello's naked David, it all seemed so right.

I was not that lost in my thoughts that I was unaware of Leonardo's breathing growing heavier and more irregular, nor of the hot throbbing of his member between my lips. Knowing the pleasure I was bringing him caused my own member to stiffen again and to twitch and ache with desire once more, something that my tutor noticed and pointed out, observing that one great joy of being young was having an eager and ever willing cock. I worked my lips up and down slowly and for longer than I had ever done any of the boys in my past and I realized the shortcomings of my previous lovemaking.

At last Leonardo warned me he was about to squirt, and again my tutor advised me what to do, telling me that if I preferred I did not have to catch his seed in my mouth but could allow him to squirt in the air, and that I did not have to swallow his seed if I did catch it. I of course was not inexperienced in such matters, and I was eager to do to him as had been done to me. So, I continued to work my lips up and down his shaft and to suck and to watch for the tremor along the underside of his cock and below his cockhead that I was told to watch for. Within moments I felt it, and moments later I felt his seed throbbing up the core of his rigid cock to erupt out the tip. I immediately began to swallow the thick milk, barely able to keep up as he squirted shot after shot in my mouth. It was thicker than any I had yet caught in my mouth, and with a stronger and sharper but also sweeter taste. I wondered if his unique thickness and taste were true of all adults.

Finally draining him, I got to my feet and assured him and Leo that I was fine. Discovering that the others had disrobed and were presently half sitting and half lying on the ground and stroking each other's erection, I sat back with the two adults, one on either side of me and with their arms about me, and watched along with them. Francesco lay on his back and Giovanni straddled him in the opposite direction, forming what had been described to me by the two fisherman's sons back in Lisbon as the two-backed monster, each taking the cock of the other in his mouth. While Giovanni and Francesco began to suck each other's cock, Michelangelo dropped to his knees and kneeling behind Giovanni, he shuffled up behind him and placed the tip of his cock against his asshole. Giovanni of course willingly opened up to him and he easily sank his stiff member up the cardinal's ass.

The three of them were filled with passion of course after having watched me and the two adults, and they engaged in their three-way act loudly and enthusiastically, which, Leo observed, was how love was supposed to be. Giovanni and Francesco hungrily sucked on each other's cock, slurping and snorting openly and unabashedly. Michelangelo similarly rammed his cock in and out of Giovanni's asshole rapidly and with grunts and gasps of delight and exertion. Leonardo called out to them to slow down and enjoy the pleasures of their flesh, and the pleasure of bringing others that same pleasure as they were feeling. Watching the three of them of course got us stiff once again, and as we watched them the two adults reached down and stoked my once again stiff member and fondled my dangling, sweating balls. Leonardo being left-handed and sitting to my right made it easy for the two men to both fondle my privates. I at the same time reached over and took each of their cocks in hand and began to stroke them. Never in my wildest and most wicked dreams had I ever imagined I would be sitting in a garden in Florence stroking the cocks of two grown men while they fondled my privates with the three of us watching a fourteen-year-old cardinal getting fucked up the ass by a boy a year his senior while he and a young man seven years his senior sucked each other's cock.

In time the three of them spent their seed, Giovanni and Francesco in each other's mouth and Michelangelo up Giovanni's ass. As they finished, Leonardo, Leo, and I shot our seed for a second time, this time my fists tightly grasping the adults' throbbing, spurting cocks. When I finally retired, I was glad that Father and Uncle were sound asleep and I quickly crawled into my bed lest they awake. I quickly drifted off to sleep myself with the smell of cock and spent seed on my fingers and my mind filled with the wonders I had experienced that day.

The next morning Uncle and Father met with our host for a very long time, so long I much feared that they would again be disappointed. When they finally rejoined me just before noon, their smiles told me my fears had been unfounded. Lorenzo had extended to Father and Uncle a generous letter of credit, and, much to my surprise, had informed them he wished to sponsor me in particular, in light of my appointment as King João's envoy, to travel to Jerusalem with the object of establishing an exchange of foodstuffs and coin from Florence for artifacts from the Holy Land, and of obtaining any information that would be of value to him from not only the Christians in the city, but also the Jews and the Muslims. I was most honoured by his charge to me and his trust, but also much worried that I could not live up to his expectations.

That afternoon while Father and Uncle sought out the goldsmith Antonio Pollaivolo to discuss establishing a market for his wares in Portugal, Michelangelo and Francesco invited me to join them as they purchased supplies for themselves and for the Academy. As we walked, they engaged in two of the topics from the previous evening, about the existence of preexisting forms and about intelleto, none of which I really understood. Francesco claimed, or perhaps it was Plato and he was quoting him, that the intelleto was a gift from God and that a fine painting was nothing other than a copy of the perfections of God, a music and melody that only the intelleto is capable of hearing. While Michelangelo agreed that some artists are more skilled than others because they possessed this thing called intelleto, and conceded that art forms existed independently of the artist, he disagreed that the artist's function was simply to draw these forms out of the material he was working with. He insisted that the artist had to be given some credit for imagination and creativity that went beyond intelleto and preexisting forms, that allowed him, I gathered, to create his own forms, or at least modify those that existed. While I did not understand, I did sense an element of conceit and arrogance, which I had noted the previous evening. I noticed it also when he spoke again of the superiority of males over females and the superiority of masculine love and of the virtues of sex between males, something much more to my interest if not my understanding.

"But, if sex between men is so worthy, why do we have laws against it?" I asked.

"They are laws of an ignorant time made by ignorant people," he responded. "There are those in high places who would have such archaic laws appealed."

"Few believe in them, and they are rarely enforced if ever at all. If one is hung, it is not for the act of sodomy but for some other more heinous crime that the individual has also committed," observed Francesco.

"Besides, charges of sodomy have become so common and are so easy for anyone to make that such accusations are made to tarnish one's reputation or out of envy or just plain meanness, not because one really believes that sex between men is a crime. Thankfully nobody pays much heed to such accusations today."

"Yet such spurious attacks can cause much damage to the good name of a family, and can cause a good man much pain and anguish. The charge of sodomy made against Leonardo da Vinci and Leonardo Tornabuoni is an excellent example."

"They were charged with engaging in sodomy with each other?" I asked in surprise.

"Not with each other, with an apprentice goldsmith and male prostitute by the name of Jacopo Saltarelli, back in 1476," said Francesco. "I was only seven at the time, but I remember it well. There was much talk about it given the prominence of the Tornabuoni family. Leonardo, Leo, a tailor by the name of Baccino, and an individual by the name of Bartolomeo di Pasquino were all charged with engaging in sodomy with this Saltarelli in an anonymous note left in the letterbox in the palazzo della signoria. The accuser never showed up in court and the matter was dropped for lack of evidence. The incident is largely forgotten now, but it caused the Tornabuoni family much embarrassment at the time." (19)

"Some people exist in this world just to cause others trouble," Michelangelo observed angrily.

"Leonardo da Vinci dropped out of sight for the next two years. He is still much troubled by the event, and by the conflict between his sexual desires and his faith despite his acceptance of Plato's philosophy." (20)

"Sex between males is the highest possible expression of their love and is of God's design."

"So you believe it is actually God's intention that men engage in sex with other men?" I asked. Leonardo was not the only one who was troubled by the conflict between his sexual desires and his faith.

"Most assuredly." "Are not the two in conflict, the Word of God and the teachings of Plato?" I asked, having never heard of Plato before yesterday.

"Some-no, many-would claim so, but to the enlightened man, they say the same," Michelangelo replied. "Plato said that sex between man and woman is crude and for one purpose only, procreation, and that sex between two males is a superior form of love. The Bible also says sex between man and woman is for procreation, and not only that, that it is shameful and to be hidden. The debate lies in the statement in the Bible that man must not lay with man as he does with woman. Most scholars claim this is an admonishment for a male not to have sex with another male. Marsilio would claim this statement supports his belief that the highest form of love is not heterosexual coitus but nonsexual love between males, this amor platonicus that he advocates, and as such is in agreement with much of Plato's teaching. To others, Cardinal Giovanni and myself included, the statement in the Bible is saying that man cannot have sex with another man as he does with a woman because the two are of a totally different nature and purpose, the former being the superior relationship and impossible for those of opposite sexes to achieve."

"And what of sex between men and boys?" I asked, the other issue that had been troubling me ever since the incident in the Kongo.

"There Marsilio is wrong about Plato's intention in saying pederasty should be prohibited. He made the statement not because he believed the practice was wrong, but because he recognized how overpowering and distracting such desires are. There are many Greek philosophers and even more Greek poets who had much praise for the practice, and it was not only acceptable but expected. I think it is significant that the Bible says nothing about sex between men and boys, so it must have been thought unimportant," Michelangelo said sharply, leaving no question on how he felt and the pointlessness of any debate of the matter. (21)

The arguments left me much to think about as Michelangelo and Francesco went about their business. On our way back, we walked along the Arno River and my two guides pointed out what they considered particularly beautiful buildings including the great dome of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and the Bell Tower beside it and opposite it the Baptistry of San Giovanni. We paused before one of several sets of gilded bronze doors in the Baptistry, one depicting scenes from the Old Testament by the goldsmith and sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti that particularly fascinated Michelangelo and which he called the Gates of Paradise. Lastly we stopped at the Brancacci Chapel where Michelangelo proudly showed me the painting "The Resurrection of the Son of Theophilus" by Flippino Lippi in which Francesco had posed at the age of sixteen, depicting a young boy kneeling naked before a group of older, fully clothed men.

"It is most impressive," I observed, knowing a little about fine art from working with Father and Uncle, "and the depiction of the boy most accurate." Realizing the implication, I quickly added, "the facial features that is." Realizing what that might imply, I further added, "not that the rest is not very much like, ah, well, recognizable."

Much amused by my flustered embarrassment, Francesco laughed and suggested I stop while I was still ahead. I apologized, and instead of taking his advise, foolishly asked how he felt having his nakedness portrayed for everyone to see. He replied that he was proud to have been chosen to be the model for the painting by Lippi, though not everyone felt that way, glancing at Michelangelo meaningfully. Seeing my perplexed look, Michelangelo observed that I had to have noticed his crooked nose, and when I hesitantly admitted I had, having seen how hypersensitive he was, he explained that he had gotten into a fight with a Pietro Torriqiano who had made disparaging remarks about someone who would pose naked. I quickly apologized that I had meant no offense and would have been honoured to have posed myself and Francesco replied that none had been taken. Michelangelo observed that Leonardo had been right the previous night, that I would make an excellent model myself, to which I replied I would be honoured if someone as skilled as he was to include me in a drawing, hoping to further assure Francesco I had meant no offense, and to appease the supersensitive Michelangelo. (22)

Returning to the Piazza de Medici, Michelangelo picked up a pad of paper and a box of charcoal and I followed him to the Garden. To my surprise he told me to strip, and when I asked why, he replied that he intended on sketching me. Having me stand with my right foot raised and handing me a broken branch to hold as a staff, he had me stare off to the side as he sat down and began to sketch. Feeling most self conscious and conceited standing there naked for anyone to see, I was relieved that he was amazingly fast. Looking at the result, an image of me standing on a ledge of rock and staring off into the distance with a border of leaves and acorns, that looked suspiciously like prickheads, I was surprised at the resemblance of the drawing to myself. I should not have, having realized by then that he was a perfectionist in whatever he did, whether it be painting, sculpting, or having sex. (23)

"Nicolau Ribeiro, Explorer and Merchant Prince. Perhaps some day your portrait will also hang in some cathedral for all to admire."

That thought caused my arms to turn to gooseflesh. "If I am an explorer and merchant, why am I naked?"

"No. If that was so, I would have drawn his member erect," observed Michelangelo.

The two looked at each other and slowly exchanged grins. Stepping up to me, one on each side, they wrapped their arms about me and kissed me on the cheeks. As they began to caress my body, my member, of course, immediately began to respond.

"Suppose someone were to come along?" I protested, trying to push their arms away but I might as well have been trying to push away the snakes on the head of Medusa. As soon as I pushed one away, another took its place.

"Nobody will. And if they did, what of it?" asked Michelangelo as he reached down and taking my growing member in his fingers began to stroke it as Francesco caressed my buttocks.

I was soon erect, as were they, and they quickly shed their clothes until they were as naked as I. We embraced, kissed and caressed each other and our members rapidly grew in response. Kneeling down, I licked Michelangelo's member until it was dripping with my saliva while Francesco squatted behind me and lubricating his finger with his spittle massaged my anus with the tip and then slowly inserted his finger up my ass, at first up to the first knuckle, and then the second, and finally as far as it would go. At first I was most aware of our exposure and most afeared of being discovered, but as his finger worked in and out of my rectum and as I coated Michelangelo's cock with my spittle, I soon became so aroused and so eager to engage in sex with them that such fears fled from my mind.

Taking Michelangelo's place, Francesco presented his cock to me and I willingly began to lick it as I had learned to do the night before. Michelangelo meanwhile stepped up behind me and spreading apart the cheeks of my ass, he pressed the tip of his erection against my anus. I immediately relaxed and pushed out, opening my anus to him. After a bit of effort and several adjustments in our positions, I felt his prickhead stretching open my anus and I strained to accept him. Wider and wider he stretched my opening until at last his knob popped inside. Having achieved his goal, he sank his member deep up my rectum until I felt his coarse hairs pressing against my buttocks and his large, pendant balls pressing against the back of my thighs. Grasping my hips, he began to ease his member in and out of my body and I grasped Francesco's hips and began to ease my lips up and down his erect member as I sucked on it. Feeling Michelangelo's fingers slip under me and gasp my stiff member and begin to stroke it, I felt dizzy with arousal and excitement. I no longer cared if anyone were to come upon us as the lust welled up in my body, causing my member and my rectum to pulsate and my loins to ache for that ultimate pleasure of squirting.

To my amazement, with each new person I had sex with it was like my first time all over again. There is a difference about each person, their technique, their style, their personality, that makes having sex with them unique. With Michelangelo and Francesco, I felt an animalistic lust that I had never felt with anyone else before, and a sense of masculinity that I cannot describe. I do not know if it was because of our prior conversation on platonic love and the superiority of male to male sex, or if it was because of Michelangelo's very passionate and very masculine attitude, or perhaps both, but having sex with him made me feel more complete as a man than I had ever felt.

The three of us were perfectly attuned with each other, each of us stopping frequently to relish the arousal of our flesh and the delight of bringing another male that unique pleasure that only a male can know or understand, and to allow our passions to subside so we could continue on. To me it felt like I could continue on indefinitely, riding the rise of my passion to the crest and then sliding down the trough as my desire declined only to rise up on the next crest, like a ship riding the ocean. The three of us were panting deeply and our naked bodies were flushed and coated with a sheen of sweat as Michelangelo pumped his hips to and fro, driving his hard, throbbing cock in and out of my hot rectum and as I slipped my lips up and down Francesco's turgid flesh and sucked on his throbbing manhood. I do not know how many times we reached that peak of ecstasy and prolonged the inevitable, but when at last the end came, it seemed the right time and perfectly natural. I felt Michelangelo's hot, thick seed spurt up my rectum, filling it with his cream, and I inhaled deeply and shuddered with delight as my own stiff cock throbbed hotly in his hand and I felt my seed gush up the core of my swollen member and spurt out of the tip with such force as I have never felt before while Francesco's member throbbed between my lips and his hot, thick seed spurted into my mouth. I swallowed his manly seed eagerly as Michelangelo's cock slucked in and out of his thick cream now filling my asshole and trickling down the inside of my thigh and my own seed continued to spurt out of my aching cock and fly through the air, my hot blood throbbing through my sweat-streaked body and my loins weak with my ejaculation.

"There is no finer fragrance than a man's seed and a pair of hot, sweaty balls," Michelangelo sighed, his hot breath blowing on the nape of my neck as he lay his head against my back, his stiff cock still up my ass, and to that Francesco and I readily agreed.

To my delight, Father and Uncle had more business to attend to and we remained in Florence for another two days, during which I continued my education on art, music and philosophy, and found opportunities to perfect my sexual techniques. Finally on our fifth day in Florence, Father, Uncle and I arose before the sun for our long ride back to Rome. Our host saw us off with best wishes and we extended again our heartfelt thanks. Michelangelo and Francesco were still asleep. Knowing we would be up early, I had made my farewells the night before. Had they risen to see me off, I do not know if I would have been able to hide my feelings for them or my sadness having to leave them. Uncle seemed particularly alert to such things, and had he noticed, I do not know how I would have accounted for myself. We rode for the first half of the day in silence, each of us thinking of past events, and events still to come.

"Well," observed Uncle over our midday lunch, "life as an intellectual and an artisan is certainly a different one. The conversation our first day here was most stimulating and leaves one with a lot to wonder about."

"It certainly does," agreed Father, "though some of the beliefs and values that were expressed I strongly disagree with. Decadent thoughts such as those undermine the church and encourages disobedience among the youth. The fine wine and food and being waited on, on the other hand, I could get quite use to," he added with a smile.

"There was that," said Uncle. "Though I could quite enjoy the intellectual debate and discussing the merits of a good painting or skilfully chiselled sculpture for a time, or the philosophies of ancient Greece, I would soon grow tired of a steady diet of it and would long to be on the deck of the Theresa del Morau with the sea and the wind in my face and new worlds and peoples to discover."

"It was most interesting and very exciting, and stimulating," I replied, thinking of the dinner conversation and life style, and of our private pleasures, "but I agree with Uncle. I think I would soon become bored with such a life. I would much prefer the life of an explorer and merchant prince like you and Uncle Paolo."

As we packed up and remounted for the remainder of our ride, I looked forward to being back out at sea and for the adventures to come.

The Ribeiro's travel back to Rome where Nico's new friends further enlighten him on young love and the paedophilic practices of members of the church elite and give him another interpretation of the motives of Lorenzo the Magnificent of Florence. Nico meets his first Ottoman, Prince Djem, the Ribeiro's attend a consistory with Pope Innocent VIII, and Nico is invited to a party in honour of Cesare Borja and experiences his first drunk, and his first orgy involving the Vatican's elite and male and female prostitutes.

Arriving back in Rome late that evening tired, sore and smelling like horse, we returned the beasts and headed straight to the Theresa del Morau for a hot meal and a hot bath. Wearily crawling into my little bunk in the storage room under the pilothouse, I quickly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the familiar creaking of the ship's timbers and gently rocked by the tide. I slept sound as a baby until old Three-Finger Duarte woke me the next morning, chuckling that the main mast could have crashed down around my ears and I would not have heard. After breaking our fast, Uncle headed off to make contacts with several merchants referred to him by the goldsmith Antonio Pollaivolo of Florence and I accompanied Father to the Papal Palace where Father was delivering to the Vatican Secretary a letter from Lorenzo de'Medici to Pope Innocent VIII indicating his support for our expedition to Cairo, and confirming our appointment for the day after tomorrow, Father having been told upon our arrival in Rome from Algiers eight days past that it would be ten days before the next public consistory, the earliest the Holy Father would hear our petition, and that it could possibly be even longer if there were a large number of petitioners and if they were deemed of greater importance than ourselves.

I sought out the new friends I had made in the Sistine Choir, and in particular Salmino Dogliotti and Julius. They were in classes but by slipping a young page a scudo I managed to get word to them that I had returned and they in turn sent a reply that they would be delighted if I could join them when the choir broke for lunch at noon. They were most eager to hear of my travels to Pisa and Florence. Knowing Cardinal Giovanni de'Medici's sexual inclination and his preferred position, Julius asked with a leer in his eyes how I had found his ass, and to their amusement I replied that it had been easy to find in that the Cardinal had presented it to me. I told them of my meeting with Lorenzo de'Medici and that I had on impulse relayed the information about the unrest in Florence that I had gotten from Salmino and that I hoped I had not done wrong in passing on the information, and in revealing him as its source. His reply was that if it helped the Medici's then it would be nothing but favourable for his family, and if the Dominican friar had his way no harm had been done in that he would never know the information had been passed on to the Medici.

When I told him of Lorenzo's interest in any improprieties by Pope Innocent and in the sacrilegious behaviour of the cardinals that I had witnessed, and of my impression that he was incensed to hear of such behaviour, Salmino told me that it was most likely he was more interested in obtaining information he could use to bribe or blackmail the college of cardinals to further the career of his second oldest son Cardinal Giovanni. And when I told him of Lorenzo's special sponsorship of me to the Holy Land and of the sense I had of his strong religious faith, Salmino agreed he was fervently faithful, but he further disenchanted me regarding Lorenzo's character, saying he most likely had ulterior motives besides, like using me to gain more power and wealth for himself, and using his sponsorship of me as one upmanship on the Holy Father. After speaking to Salmino, I had a much lower regard for my own importance, and a more cynical regard for Lorenzo de'Medici, both of which I must admit I resented him for.

Of much greater interest to Julius and Salmino was the banquet I had attended in Florence and those I had met and their conversation, and even greater yet, what we had done after dinner after the servants had been dismissed, which I found myself describing in much unabashed detail, which to my shame after some afterthought, I suppose was an attempt to regain a sense of importance.

"I think Father Romero believes the same as that Michelangelo fellow," observed a boy of about my age sitting beside Salmino, "about love and sex between males being better than with girls." He looked down and smiled at the boy sitting beside him, a boy about half his age, and I noticed him slip his hand under the table and hold the younger boy's hand. The younger boy had a head of tight, curly, brown hair and a snub nose and chubby cheeks that reminded me of one of the cherubs artists paint flying around people's heads. I recalled one of our earlier conversations in which one of the older choir boys had jokingly commented about boys who like boys giving a Father Romero a hard-on.

"Rafael, tell Nico what happened between you and Pietro and Father Romero," urged Salmino.

Rafael glanced at me hesitantly and then down at Pietro. Receiving a nod from the younger boy, he glanced around and leaning in closer and brushing his long, wavy hair away from his eyes, he began his story in a soft voice. "Well, me and Pietro were up in the choir loft snuggling. It was after our evening repast and we had an hour free time before vespers. We both got excited after a bit and we pulled out our peckers and began to mess around with each other, you know, rubbing each other's and stuff. Well, Pietro went down on me for a bit, until we were both feeling really aroused, and then he turned to present his backside to me. It was then that we discovered we were not alone.

How long Father Romero had been watching us we do not know, but when we began to draw up our breeches he stood up from where he had been hiding, pretending of course that he had not been, and told us we did not have to cover ourselves up. His robe was partly open and we could see that he had pulled his under breeks down and that his member was stiff and the knob ruddy red. He had to have been stroking himself while he was watching us, no doubt about it. Well, he said in a throaty voice that it was perfectly natural for boys to be curious and to experiment and that we should not feel embarrassed or ashamed. Of course we knew how Father Romero felt about such things and I said that we were not experimenting, and that we loved each other, which is the truth." Rafael looked at Pietro again and Pietro looked up at him and I could see in their eyes that type of look you see a husband and wife give each other. You could tell they did love each other and that their feelings for each other were not just lust.

"Well, Father Romero gets this sort of dreamy look in his eyes. The first time I had seen that look I had thought he was having a heart attack or something, which would not have been a surprise considering he is so fat." Rafael observed.

"Well, he starts in on how important love is and how there is not enough love in the world, and how God loved Jesus and how Jesus loved his disciples and how it was love between a man and a woman that made sex between them okay and that it was only wrong when there was no love between them and it was lust, and that though it did not always seem like it, the priests and cardinals all loved the boys at the Vatican. It was just that the boys sometimes needed discipline and guidance also, and even though the priests punished them, they loved them too, and when there is love between two people it is okay for them to have sex."

"I bet every page boy and half the boys in the choir have heard that speech," Julius said with a smile.

"And those who have not, have heard about it," said Rafael. "I had heard about it anyway, from several boys, so I said what they said I should say if I ever had to confess or if I was ever caught with another boy. I said Pietro and I were surely in love with each other, in our hearts and in our souls, but this physical part was sort of new to us and we were not sure if we were doing it right. Well, just as I had been told, Father Romero fell for it, or maybe it was us who had said just what he wanted us to say and we had been snared in his trap, but either way he sat down beside us and said that he would guide us and help us. He asked us some questions, like how we felt about each other, how certain things made us feel, like if one of us got hurt or teased or something, and how doing the physical stuff made us feel. It was obvious he was getting excited again. So were we and we did not try to hide it. Anyway we kissed and rubbed each other again and Pietro went down on me and got my dick all slippery with his spit, and then he turned around and I stuck him with my prick."

"Right there, in front of the priest?" I asked in surprise, and Rafael nodded. "Did that not feel strange, being watched?" I asked. "Especially by a priest?"

"Oh yeah, it was embarrassing," Rafael said with a blush. "But everyone knows Father Romero gets aroused watching boys, and he is a decent enough sort. He is not mean or cruel or nothing like some of them are, and unlike some of the others he does not say one thing and then do something opposite, like saying sex is bad and then having sex himself. That annoys us more than anything. The way most of us figure it, we are helping make him feel good by letting him watch us make each other feel good. There cannot be no harm in that." Pietro nodded his head in agreement, and I could find no fault in such logic.

"Well, yeah, except after a bit he did reach out and take my dick in his fingers and began to stroke it," Pietro said. "I did not like that so much. I would rather Rafael do it to me, but it was okay. Like Rafael said, he was not being cruel or mean or nothing, and it was different, having his big fat fingers doing it."

"Before long he was breathing real heavy and so were we, and then he bent over and began to suck on Pietro's dick and to stroke his own big fat pecker."

"That was sort of hot, watching him stroking his dick with the same fingers as he had been stroking my dick," Pietro said with a grin and sparkle in his eyes.

"And knowing his dick was feeling the same as ours were, and he was feeling the same arousal as the two of us were feeling," added Rafael, "though that was sort of strange, knowing a man is feeling horny and his dick is feeling just like a boy's does. After a bit he pulled a handkerchief out of his robe and wrapped it over the end of his member, and then I began shooting my seed up Pietro's butt and Pietro began to jerk and stuff as he tried to shoot his seed but of course he is too young yet, and Father Romero gasped and sighed and quivered and we knew he was shooting his seed in his handkerchief."

"We had barely finished when people began to arrive for vespers. I think some of them were wondering what had happened because they were sniffing the air and looking around."

"Oh, I think they knew what had happened," Julius observed with a grin. "A man's seed has a very distinctive odour. They were just looking around trying to figure out who."

That I could believe. There were many times I was afeared Father or Uncle might smell the sex on me. That a priest would join in with two young boys did surprise me. There was no way that Father Francisco back in Viano do Castelo would ever condone two boys having carnal knowledge of each other, and he would be horrified if he had ever caught them, not aroused. I tried to imagine him in such a situation, getting on his knees and sucking a boy's cock, and raising his habit and playing with his own until he shot his seed, but it was so totally impossible my mind could not picture it. When the boys returned to their duties after lunch, I was taken past Father Romero's office and he was pointed out to me. Pietro was right. The man was shaped like a pear.

That night as I lay in my bunk, I tried to picture Rafael and Pietro messing around, and then the rotund priest joining them. The thought soon had my member erect, and I could not help reaching down and soothing the pain of my erection. As I did so I pictured Rafael and Pietro pleasing each other, and the look in their eyes as they had related their tale to me, and I envied them and their love and their openness about enjoying sex with each other. I thought again about the discussion at the Palazzo Medici about love between men, and between men and boys, and I thought about my love for Ahmed. I wondered what he was doing, and as I recalled that last night up on the roof in Algiers with him, the bulb of my stiff pecker burned hotly and I felt an ache in the pit of my groin.

I had many questions. Why had I been brought up to never talk about matters of sex yet others talked about it so openly and naturally? Why did some think that any form of sex was filthy and sinful, even that between husband and wife, while others found it to be something of great beauty? Why did some feel love between those of the same sex was a sin and a crime punishable by hanging while others wrote poetry praising it? I had no answers, and the throbbing of my member and the itching of my bulb made it difficult to concentrate on such weighty matters. So, I put such thoughts aside and thought once again of the sex Ahmed and I had enjoyed with each other and how stroking my stiff member made it feel so good and yet painful in a way too, and how that is one thing that only a male can know. Squeezing my member tightly, I pumped my fist up and down the shaft and over the knob ever so slowly, concentrating on the sharp thrills that shot through my turgid flesh and the way my swollen flesh throbbed, allowing each sensation to subside before generating it again. I thought about how good stroking my cock felt, and how good it felt having another stroke it while I stroked his. I thought about Michelangelo's comment about the superiority of sex between males. When I shot my seed, it felt wonderful and I was glad I was a male. Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep inhaling the musky vapours of my seed, thankfully before my blood cooled down and I began to feel guilty about what I had done.

The next day Father and Uncle continued their contacts for trade and I returned to the Vatican. While there, I listened to the Sistine choir practice and I marvelled at the beauty of their voices and at the frescos and other paintings in the chapel. During a break in their practice, the choir master spoke to several clergy, one being a cardinal whom Salmino drew my attention to, a Cardinal Giovanni Giacomo Schiaffinati, more commonly called Cardinal Parmense because he was the bishop of Parma. He appeared to be about Father's age, thirty-nine, and nothing in particular stood out about him.

"Pope Sixtus IV, the Holy Father before Pope Innocent, who founded the Sistine Choir and began the building of the Sistine Chapel, is said to have given gifts and benefices to court favourites for sexual favours. Cardinal Parmense, it is said, was created a cardinal for his ingenuity, loyalty and gifts of body and soul," Salmino said, emphasizing 'body' with a leer. "It is said that he will whore himself with anyone if there is a chance it will benefit him in some way."

I looked at him and shook my head. I could not imagine Father or Uncle or any adult I knew doing such a thing. "What sort of man would offer his body to another man for sex for a title, or for money, or whatever? And what sort of man would have congress with another man who is doing so just to gain his favour?"

"I have great difficulty believing men dedicated to God, especially those who are the successors of Saint Peter, would engage in acts that I have been told all my life are forbidden by the Bible."

"Are you kidding? Sixtus IV would not have become pontiff if it had not been for such an act."

"He became pope because his successor, Paul II, had a heart attack while having sex with a page," Salmino said with a wide grin. "Now that is the way to go!" Before he could say more, he was called back to rehearsal and from the wink and the smile he gave me I honestly could not tell if he had told me the truth or if he had been joking with me. (1)

As I joined Salmino and the rest of the choir for the noonday meal, I noticed a severe-looking man whom I was told was Cardinal Borja talking to a man whom I guessed to be about thirty who stood out from the others in that he was darkly handsome, wore very expensive robes, and was turbaned. He was, I was told, an Ottoman, Prince Djem, who was the brother of Sultan Bayazd II and a contender for the throne. Julius said that Pope Innocent had agreed to detain Djem a year ago for 45,000 ducats per year in addition to 120,000 crowns and the promise to turn over to him the Holy Lance that was used to pierce Jesus while he was on the cross and that was presently in the hands of the sultan. The man appeared to be quite happy and hardly concerned that he was being held hostage. The Ottoman's, Julius said, were friendly with the Jews, as was Cardinal Borja, whom some, including his staunch opponent and rival for the throne of Saint Peter, Cardinal Rovere, claimed was a marrano, which I recalled was a Jew who professed to be a Catholic but in secret still adhered to Judaism. I observed that there was something about the looks or mannerisms of this Prince Djem that gave me a strong impression of sexuality. Julius said that I was not the only one to notice that, and that almost every woman in Rome was attracted to him, and many bedded by him. In fact at the moment it was rumoured that he had designs on Cardinal Borja's daughter Lucrezia, who at the moment was betrothed to a Spanish nobleman by the name of Don Juan Centelles, an arranged, political agreement.

"Ten and a half, but so? That is not too young to be promised in marriage. Nor to have sex with. She is very beautiful. Besides, she is far from innocent. Rumour is that she has already been had by her brother Cesare, and by her father."

"As I said, she is very beautiful. And they are two most lustful and virile men." (2)

I shook my head. Fathers and daughters? And a cardinal at that, and one who would be pope! And brothers and sisters? I thought of my own dear sisters and my skin broke out in gooseflesh in disgust. This was not a sacred place. It was a den of demons, and I was most eager to be gone.

I did not sleep well that night, our audience with the Holy Father being the next morning. Although it was Father who would be speaking on our behalf, meeting with the supreme head of the Roman Catholic Church was frightening, more frightening than anything I have ever done, and I prayed that I would not do anything to embarrass Father or Uncle or endanger our mission. The next morning we once again donned our most impressive clothes and returning to the Vatican, were escorted by one of the Helvetian Guards to our places. He looked very much like the guard I had seen my first day at the Vatican being fucked by Cardinal Rovere, but then they were all strong and muscular and all looked the same in their colourful uniforms.

Having missed our early opportunity to petition his Holiness due to the storm we had encountered that had forced us to dock at Algiers for repairs, this time our petition was being heard at a public consistory. Such meetings, Father informed me, were held every two weeks to hear judicial and administrative cases, most of them involving clerics and laymen. They were presiding over by the Pope and attended by the Cardinals, protonotaries, auditors of the Sacred Rota, and prelates and laymen with special knowledge or interest in the proceedings of that day. It also was, he said, where the Holy Father greeted kings, princes and ambassadors. That we were seated near the front of the audience hall signified the importance of our petition which caused me a great sense of pride.

The first to speak was the Ambassador from the Kingdom of Germany, a stern, harsh looking man with thick, bushy eyebrows and piercing eyes. He spoke on behalf of his king, Emperor Maximilian I, who was seeking Pope Innocent's support in his conflict with the French King Louis XI over the Burgundian realm Maximilian had inherited through his wife. The Pope listened intently and asked several questions before ending with the promise he would send a Papal envoy who hopefully would find a way to end the conflict peacefully, a solution that seemed to please the ambassador. Next was the Ambassador from the Holy Roman Empire, who reported that King Frederick III was concerned about the future of the Kingdom of Hungary with the recent death of its Emperor, Matthais Corvinus, and the subsequent rise and infighting of Hungary's feudal barons in that the king had left no heir. The Pope agreed the situation was serious and assured the ambassador that he and the Council of Cardinals shared the Holy Roman Emperor's concern and that the church was doing what it could to maintain calm among the people. The ambassador from the Holy Roman Empire did not seem satisfied with that reply though of course he could not say so and thanked the Holy Father and the Cardinals for their efforts.

An Earl from Moravia was the next to petition the Pope, expressing concerns about an invasion by the Ottoman Empire with the death of the Emperor of Hungary. Pope Innocent was clearly worried also and admonished the Earl, telling him the baronies had to cease their bickering and unite against the heathen horde at their doorstep, something I do not think the Earl had been expecting. It seemed to me like all of Europe was at the brink of war with threats of invasions from the Ottomans to the north and the Moors to the east and south and internal rivalries among the barons of Hungary and the competition among the Italian states and cities, all of them seeking intervention and help from the Pope. With such pressing issues our needs regarding our expedition to Cairo seemed minor and I suddenly felt embarrassed to be bothering the Holy Father with such a trivial matter. With such weighty demands on his time and treasury, I did not expect our audience to end favourably and my heart sank as the consistory continued.

Next was an Envoy from Castile who rose with great pomp and theatrics and signalled for the Helvetian Guards to open the doors to the audience chamber. They did so and in marched a company of Helvetian Guards with a half dozen soldiers from Castile, the soldiers unarmed of course in the presence of the Holy Father and the College of Cardinals, and in the centre, manacled and chained to each other, a dozen Moors captured from Granada, a gift from Ferdinand and Isabella to the Pope. They cowered in the middle, the whites of their eyes wide with fear, evidently having been maltreated and in fear for their lives all the way from Granada to Rome, an abject, pitiful lot that made me feel sorry for them despite them being heathens and the enemy of all Christians. I recalled the proud Berbers I had met on the Barbary Coast, and the Moors that walked the streets of Dzayer, and the cordial manner in which the crew of the Theresa del Morau treated Mustafa, the Moor we were transporting to Cairo. The soldiers from Castile glared at their captives and struck them, forcing them to their knees before the Holy Father.

The envoy launched into a most flowery and effusive speech extolling the appreciation and love of the Catholic Monarchs for the Pope and the College of Cardinals for all the support they had received, the result of which were many gains in the battle with Granada, the fruit of which was this small handful of pitiful slaves for them to bring into the Christian flock or to do whatsoever else they deemed the heathens were suitable for, and from the look in the envoy's eyes and in the eyes of some of the cardinals looking on, there was no question just what that "whatsoever else" included. My heart sank even lower. We brought no such gifts which were being blatantly presented to please and to bribe the Holy See.

Pope Innocent was clearly pleased and thanked the Envoy and asked him to relay the thanks and gratitude of the Holy See back to his King and Queen, and to see the Cardinal Camerlengo who would see that the Catholic Monarchs were rewarded for their gift. He looked down at the cowering slaves and then at the cardinals sitting on either side of the room.

"I see a half dozen able-bodied men who with a little nourishing food and care would be most suited for heavy physical labour. Cardinal Raffaele Sansoni Riario, could you see to converting these heathens to the Christian faith while they assist you in the expansion of your palace?"

Cardinal Riario certainly could, just as Cardinal Francesco Piccolomini was certain he could convert three of the slaves while they worked his vineyards, and as did Cardinal Lorenzo Cibo, the brother of the Pope, with the two Moors he was gifted with, their purpose left unsaid. That left one Moor, a slender, handsome boy of thirteen, who was gifted as a page to archbishop Juan Pavligionitti, a member of the Sacred Rota which handled the judicial concerns of the Holy See. The man's delight was evident, and to me, so was his lust. The boy would surely soon be on his knees, but conversion of the boy to the Christian faith was not going to be the first of the archbishop's priorities. At that moment I caught the eye of Salmino who was standing with the pages behind the pope. He mouthed the words "deflowering garden" and even with the great distance between us, I could see the sparkle in his eyes. Even though nobody would know what that meant and nobody would have noticed our exchange, I turned a bright red. (3)

We were called up next and I tried desperately to compose myself and rid my mind of such lurid thoughts as I nervously followed Father and Uncle and dropped to one knee and bowed before the Holy Father. Father began, telling His Holiness about our commission to travel to Cairo to pick up cinnamon and spices and to seek information regarding the two envoys King João had sent to Cairo, and to check out rumours about the Kingdom of Prester John laying to the south and about a possible trade route by way of the Red Sea. Uncle added that our mission also had the support of Lorenzo de'Medici of Florence and several other merchants in Florence and Rome interested in establishing trade with the Mamelukes of Cairo. The Pope asked about our travels to the Kongo in search of Prester John's Kingdom, mentioned in King João's letter, and especially about the wealth we had brought back and the faith of the heathens, having heard rumours that they practised black magic and witchcraft.

To my surprise and honour, and horror, Father called upon me to respond, saying that I had spent more time with the people and had a better insight into their culture. I described the gems, carvings and weapons we had seen, including the carving of the mythical beast they insisted existed with the snakelike nose and batwing ears that was twice the height of a man and bore tusks the length of a man's arm, which much amused the Cardinals. I assured the Holy Father I had not seen nor heard of any evidence of witchcraft, and indeed, they seemed most receptive to Christian beliefs and exhibited many aspects of Christian behaviour, not totally truthful but not wanting to see the same fate befall them as I had seen befall other black people from the dark continent. I praised him for his efforts against witchcraft in both Castile and in Germany, having seen the former and having heard about the latter from Hans and Franz, and having been told by Julius and Salmino to work it in any conversation with the Pope as he was very proud of that aspect of what was otherwise, according to them, an ineffective reign.

"So, King João thinks there may be an alternative route to the spice lands to the one currently blocked by these heathens," Pope Innocent said, more to himself than to us, "by way of the Red Sea."

"Yes, Your Holiness," Father replied. "Though he is not discounting the possibility of a route by sea around the Dark Continent and is dedicating much of his treasury to that possibility."

"Hmmph. That one can sail around the bottom of the continent is dubious, and even if possible, it is a long way to travel, with much risk of piracy or shipwreck," the Pope said, not sounding convinced. "Do you think there much chance of converting the Mamelukes of Cairo to the Christian faith?"

"Nor is there of the Turks of the Ottoman Empire," the Pope mused. "Though I hear there is a vast horde of illiterate savages farther to the east and to the south that are not followers of Islam and that could provide as many new slaves as our Catholic Monarchs and the corsairs along the Barbary Coast have been able to provide."

"I hear their warriors are particularly brutal, but their women so beautiful they by law are covered from head to toe with only a tiny opening for them to look out of lest they inflame the passions of a man just by looking upon them," I ventured much to my surprise, repeating a rumour that was circulating among the choir boys. I wanted no part of the intrigue and usury that seemed to abound at the Vatican, nor did I intend on whoring myself to gain favour, but I did want to help Father and Uncle in their petition, and from what I had been told by Salmino and Julius, the Holy Father still did fancy beautiful young women.

His Holiness looked at me with a mild surprise and raised his eyebrow, as, I noticed, did Father and Uncle, as much for my audacity to speak without being asked as for what I had said. "Your King must think highly of you, naming you his special envoy to Cairo and Jerusalem," he observed, making it sound more like a question than an observation.

"Well, the Florentine is not the only one interested in the relics of the Holy Land. The Holy See has been promised the Holy Lance of Longinus for favours granted," he observed, something which as I have mentioned I had been informed of by Julius. "And of course the possibility of extending the faith to lands beyond those presently held by the infidels is always of interest to the Holy See. Perhaps in your journey to Cairo and wherever else our Lord deems you shall go, you will keep your eyes and ears open in these matters and report back to us."

"I most certainly would, Your Holiness," I replied, much surprised by his request. "It would indeed, be my honour."

He thought for a few moments as he studied us, and then summoned four of the cardinals, of which I recognized Cardinals Borja and Rovere and the individual who had been identified as the Cardinal Camerlengo and who had been gifted the bulk of the slaves, Cardinal Riario, to him and conferred with them. "Signore Ribeiro," he said, addressing Father. "The mission that you and your brother are undertaking is of most interest to the Holy See. We would offer a blessing of your ship, the…"

"The Theresa del Morau, and a blessing of yourselves and your crew for a safe and prosperous return."

Father nodded his appreciation though as we bowed our heads for the blessing I detected a look of disappointment, knowing that he had hoped for more than just words.

"Before you leave," the Holy Father said after his blessing, "if you see the Cardinal Camerlengo, he will provide you something to show the support of the Holy See and help defray the costs of your expedition." He smiled as Father expressed his most sincere gratefulness, gratitude replacing the disappointment that had been in his eyes. "And, Signorino Ribeiro," the Holy Father continued, turning, much to my surprise, to me, "the Cardinal Camerlengo will also have something for you in the hopes that in your journey you might find a way to further the interests of the Holy See, and perhaps, if your journey takes you to Jerusalem or beyond, you might inquire on our behalf about the delay in the delivery of the Holy Lance."

He then motioned the fourth cardinal he had conferred with forward, and the cardinal motioned forward one of the pages whom he had summoned and sent away prior to the blessing by the Holy Father. The Holy Father then motioned for me to approach them, which I did most nervously and uncertainly.

"This is Cardinal Jean Balue, Protector of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem," the Holy Father introduced as I bowed before them on bended knee. He was an old man, close to seventy I figured.

Taking the sword and scabbard that the page had been sent to get, he withdrew the sword and placed the blade on my right shoulder. "Nicolau Ribeiro, by the authority invested in me as Protector of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, and in the name of Grand Master Cardinal Deacon Pierre d'Aubusson, and by order of His Holiness Innocent VIII, I hereby proclaim you Knight of the Langue of Aragon, Order of Saint John of Jerusalem." He placed the blade on my other shoulder. "I charge you with the vows of the Order, the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Do you accept this charge in the presence of the Holy Father, Innocent VIII, and in the presence of the Lord, your God, and His Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit?"

"I… I accept the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience… of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, " I replied unevenly, repeating his whispered prompt, "as his Holiness… and as the Lord, my Saviour, bear witness."

"Then rise, Sir Nicolau Ribeiro of Viano do Castelo, knight of the Langue of Aragon, Order of Saint John of Jerusalem."

I did so amongst the gracious applause of those present and accepting the sword and scabbard, backed away and rejoined Father and Uncle, who were just as surprised as I. Following the consistory, the rest of which is a blank in my mind so numb was I with this latest honour, we met with the Cardinal Camerlengo, Cardinal Riario, who gave Father five hundred crowns and had him sign several papers with the understanding of course that the papacy would receive a proportion of any and all goods and treasures brought back from our voyage. I was also given a purse, with a dozen crowns, along with documents signifying my new knighthood and a white mantle with the white eight-pointed cross of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem outlined in red. Cardinal Parmense approached and congratulated Father, Uncle and myself, noting that his brother Filippo was a Knight of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem. It was most strange talking to this man in his red velvet cape and cardinal's cap knowing what I did about him, and what he did kept popping into my mind as he talked to us. As he left, we were approached by a young page who informed me that Cardinal Borja was hosting a party that evening to which I was invited. (4)

Having no interest in ceremony and partying, and uncomfortable in the presence of such powerful and pious, and vulgar and corrupt, men of the church, I had no desire to attend, but Father pointed out that it would appear ungrateful after the honours bestowed upon us, and so I reluctantly accepted. It was with much trepidation and discomfort that upon the sixth candle mark after noon I showed up at what I was told were the Borja apartments in the Palazzo Apostolico. Much of the Papal Palace was in need of repair due to age or neglect, but the section I was directed to had been lavishly redone. Cardinal Borja, I was told, was one of the richest of the cardinals in the College of Cardinals, and the splendour of the hallways and the rich tapestries and paintings and the sculptures in the apartment where the banquet was being held reflected his wealth and his support of the arts. Exactly why he was holding this party was unclear to me, but the guest of honour was clearly the Cardinal's second son, Cesare, an exceedingly handsome, dark-eyed teenager with thick, wavy hair extending past his shoulders and who had turned fifteen a month ago, September 13. I gathered this was either on occasion of his recent birthday, or his recent or upcoming appointment as Bishop of Pamplona, the person I was talking to not being sure if the appointment had been formalized yet. There were, I estimated, thirty guests in attendance besides servants and pages. Whatever the reason for the party, why I had been invited I quickly discovered. Cardinal Borja himself came over to greet me upon my arrival, and taking me aside, casually mentioned that there were many Jews living in the occupied Holy Land, and any information I might glean about their treatment and any weaknesses in the defence of Jerusalem by the infidels while I was there would be greatly appreciated. I gathered distinctly that by appreciated he meant rewarded. Of course I agreed to find out what I could, and thanked him for the invitation to the party. There was nothing untoward in his request, and nothing I would not have done anyway. I certainly was not whoring myself.

Seated at the head table were Pope Innocent and Cardinal Borja and the cardinal's four children, his sons Cesare, Juan, who was sixteen, and Gioffre, who was only eight, and to my surprise, the only female there, his daughter Lucrezia, who was ten and a half. To either side was a row of tables at which the rest of us were seated, in order of importance. This included on the side I was sitting closest to Pope Innocent a scholarly looking man whom I was told was Johann Burchard, the Proto notary Apostolic and Ceremoniere, the man in charge of organizing all formal ceremonies at the Vatican, and beside him Cardinals Orsini and Schiaffinati. Next were two other members of the clergy and a nobleman from Rome, and beside him, a man whom I learned was one of nine procurators ruling the city-state of Venice. Beside him was his son, Romano Vecchio, who was the same age as me, then myself, and bringing up the end of our row three other youths who seemed to know each other well and who, to me, seemed quite taken with themselves.

On the other side, closest to the head table were Cardinals Rovere and Sforza, both of whom I had been told were likely candidates to be the next pope, and Cardinal Sanseverino who appeared to be about my age. Next were four other adults, nobles or other clergy of importance to the Borja's, and then five others between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, the sons of influential nobles or military, many of whom were evidently also friends of Cesare or Juan. I noted with some pride that of the ten younger people, I had been seated in what I figured was second in order of importance, or quite possibly even first for Romano could likely have been seated before me because of the position of his father, not because of his own importance.

At any rate, I was most glad I had been seated where I was. During the meal, I struck up a conversation with Romano, his father having become engaged in a conversation with the Roman nobleman beside him for most of the meal, and the three youths to my right, who did not hide the fact they looked down their noses at Romano and myself, having become involved in their own conversation. I learned that Romano's father was also a merchant and that long ago Venice had opted to trade with the Moslems rather than fight them. They had built a sizable navy and I was aware of their prowess in ship building. My knowledge of ships and trade put us in good company and we spent much time discussing the merits of different types of merchant ships and of the excitement and reward of being a merchant. Apparently recent attacks by the Turks and by their neighbouring Italian states, besides threats from the Holy Roman Empire, France and Spain, was weakening Venice's position and his father had come to the Vatican to seek intervention by the Pope, the Holy Father being known as a man who was trying to keep peace among the numerous warring states and nations. As the evening progressed and Romano and I got to know each other, I was quite happy that Father and Uncle had persuaded me to attend the function, and, I must confess, I ate and drank much too much.

Following the meal we were entertained by a troupe of jugglers and acrobats which, though good, were not exceptional, and the guests, having consumed far too much wine, were far from attentive or appreciative. There followed a play, which to my surprise considering the propriety and sophistication of the guests, was exceedingly vulgar. It was a common plot, one which I have heard several versions of from wandering minstrels back home. In this version a baker was wooing the wife of a sausage maker, who himself was much more interested in his young male apprentice than his wife, and the baker's wife welcomed her husband's absence as she was seducing a young monk fresh out of the monastery. There were many sexual innuendos and plays on the double meanings of the words bun, sausage and oven, with the female characters openly exposing their breasts and backsides and the men opening their trousers to reveal outrageously large fake genitals. To my surprise, few of the clergy or nobility seemed to be offended, and actually as the play progressed and got more and more vulgar, the more boisterous they and the younger guests became.

The merchant from Venice was not one of them and when the play ended and more wine was served as the next group of entertainers got prepared, he used the opportunity, along with many others, including Pope Innocent, several of the cardinals and noblemen, and Cardinal Borja's daughter, to make a departure. His son was reluctant to join him in that he and I had struck up a friendship and I had just begun to tell him about our expedition to Cairo, and to be truthful, though we were shocked by the nature of the entertainment, we had found it enticing and were curious what else might follow, though of course we both claimed to have been offended when it was obvious Romano's father had been. Learning of the nature of our conversation and upon my assurance that one of the members of the choir presently providing an interlude between performances was from my hometown and that he could find us a private room in which to continue our discussion should the entertainment prove to continue in its vulgar tone, he agreed to leave us. I also suspected, smugly and pridefully as shameful as it is to admit it, that the recent honour bestowed upon me was a factor, Romano's father figuring it would not hurt his cause for his son to become friends with someone favoured by the Holy Father.

There remained about half of the guests, six adults and nine young people between the ages of 14 and 17 in addition to eight-year-old Gioffre Borja. We were fortunate that Romano's father had left, for shortly thereafter most of the servants and pages were dismissed and a dozen courtesans were brought in, eight females and four males, heavily painted and perfumed and so scantily dressed they left little to imagine. Our Master of Ceremonies, Johann Burchard, announced that they were going to auction off the clothing of the courtesans, the clothing going to the bidder and the money of course going to our guest of honour. The bidding was quite low, but as the dozen prostitutes were stripped down to their undergarments, the bidding got quite competitive, and the prices rose drastically. When one of the younger and more buxom of the women stepped out of her last garment, the winner, one of the young men at our table, staggered up to claim his prize and buried his face in it while the owner stood by with legs spread, openly revealing her most private parts that the garment had just covered.

The next individual was one of the young men, who seductively removed his braies to the cheers and jeers of the crowd, and one of the clergy stepped up to claim them as the young man stood there flaunting his privates, and I had to admit, he had something to flaunt. I dared to chance a glance at Romano and found he was just as impressed by the young man as I, and just as shocked and captivated by the sight of a totally naked woman as I was. It was not long before all twelve courtesans were standing in the middle of the room bare assed and unashamed. It did not stop there. The Ceremoniere continued with auctioning the clothes of the six choir boys, of whom I knew two, my countryman Fabião and eleven-year-old Roberto whom I had met upon my arrival in Rome. When Fabião and a sixteen-year-old boy two years younger than him, removed their last articles of clothing, there was considerable chatter at the sight of the two castrati, and I myself could not refrain from staring. Romano was quite caught by surprise and perplexed as to the reason for their condition, and I explained to him why they had their stones removed. He looked at them in horror, and I noticed reached down and protectively cupped his own. I have to admit, my own had shrivelled up and attempted to disappear lest someone have ideas about their removal. Fabião and his companion looked most uncomfortable, as did poor Roberto, and I felt sorry for them, standing there totally naked and having everyone staring at them and commenting about them, some in shock, some in derision, some in desire, and all vulgarly. Myself, I thought it a cruel thing to embarrass them so, and I knew the company I had kept in Florence would never do such a thing. Fabião kept his eyes downcast, and for that I was grateful. I do not know what I would have done had we made eye contact.

The Ceremoniere then announced, to the enthusiastic cheering of the guests, an egg race, whereupon everyone began to disrobe. Romano and I glanced at each other and with a shrug and as much nonchalance as we could muster, decided to do so also, both of us curious what was to follow. I could not help glancing at him, purely out of curiosity, nor, I noticed, could he help glancing at me. He was nicely built, his body smooth and muscular with just the beginning of short hairs above a nice-sized sausage and pair of nuts, and I admit to my shame a feeling of desire passed over me. We formed two lines, alternating guest and courtesan with Cardinal Borja and Johann Burchard not participating, our hands loosely tied behind our backs with ribbons. An egg was placed under the chin of the first person in each line and the next person, a courtesan, was expected to grasp the egg between his or her chin and neck and turn and pass it on to the next person, one of the guests. Of course that necessitated brushing one's naked body up against each other. Needless to say there were many dropped and smashed eggs, a number of eggs cracked between necks with the contents oozing down one's chest or between one's tits, and worse, continuing on down over one's belly and between one's legs, requiring the row to begin all over again. Seeing the slimy white of the egg and the yellow yolk oozing along one's member and dripping off the tip, or through the bush of a female and into her crack, was highly erotic. There were, I noticed, several erections or near erections. Fortunately for myself, and I suspect Romano, my shame and embarrassment at being naked and my fear of the same happening to me overpowered my feelings of desire and my member remained drooping between my legs. The winning row, the one to pass an egg all the way to the end, received a ducat for each person, but money clearly had not been the object.

This was followed by a second race, this one with cucumbers about two hands in length, passed from person to person by holding it between the thighs. Needless to say the similarity to the male part was evident and the subject of much joking, and of course resulted in further arousal as it was passed from courtesan to guest, from female to male, and from male to male. Again, the prize was a ducat per person, and again, the coin clearly had not been the objective. I myself found pressing my groin up against a much older and heavily painted and perfumed woman left me quite limp. I noticed that it had little effect on Romano either.

Lastly, several handfuls of almonds were tossed into the centre of the room and there was a free-for-all to see who could find the most almonds, the first prize being a fine silken doublet and first choice of one of the female courtesans, the second prize a feathered cap and the first choice of one of the male courtesans, and third and fourth prize multicoloured hose with second choice of courtesan. Fourteen naked men and boys, our host and the Ceremoniere again not participating, scrambling over and under each other, many I noticed now with full erections, and most of them giddy with too much wine, was certainly the strangest competition I have ever engaged in, and I did so halfheartedly, having no desire for any of the courtesans, and no attraction for any of the guests for that matter, though more than a few, it seemed to me, purposefully crawled under or over Romano and myself. As the winners paired up and began to openly grope each other in front of everyone else, the rest sought out partners forming pairs or threesomes. Romano and I glanced at each other.

"Me neither. I have been told such individuals carry all kinds of lover's diseases, and cause pox, warts and other growths, especially on one's privates. Most certainly look like they do," he observed with a shudder.

I had to agree. Most were not the most attractive of individuals, and all, even the youngest, looked old and worn from too many partners already. "It is going to be difficult, if not too late, to slip away," I observed. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Cardinal Parmense heading our way and my heart leaped. I knew his intent, either figuring engaging in sex with one recently honoured by the Holy Father would not do his career any harm, or figuring a new knight of the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem would see a benefit for himself in satisfying the lust of the brother of a fellow knight. A rather plump and heavily painted woman intercepted him and I had to smile knowing how futile her attempt at seduction of him would be. My smile quickly turned upside down as she began bearing down on us and I realized Cardinal Parmense had not been her objective. Romano's eyes widened in horror as he also realized her intent and he glanced around, looking for an escape route. On impulse, I grabbed him and drawing him close, kissed him on the mouth. "If they see we are already partnered, they might leave us alone," I whispered in explanation as he looked at me in surprise and disbelief for a moment before smiling at my solution, and returning the kiss. To our relief, the whore swerved and headed for one of the young men who had been at our table.

I noticed Cardinal Borja was sitting back away from everyone and was watching what was going on, his robes raised about his waist and a young courtesan on her knees between his legs with the knob of his fully erect cock in her mouth while a second licked his large, hairy testicles. Cardinal Rovere had formed a threesome with one of the female courtesans and one of the more athletic-looking male courtesans, the woman sucking on his stiff member and the man sucking on his asshole. Cardinal Parmense, the third and last cardinal who had stayed, had after having been cut off by the fat courtesan paired up with Fabião, who was on his hands and knees and about to have his arse penetrated. Juan and Cesare had found one of the younger, more buxom courtesans and while Cesare was madly ramming his cock in and out of her cunt, Juan was ramming his cock in and out of her ass, while directly in front of where they were standing their eight-year-old brother Gioffre was darting glances at first one rutting brother and then the other with bulging eyes and his hand playing with his dick. Johann Burchard, the only one not engaged in sex of some sort, seemed to have taken it upon himself to protect the youngster from the others, motioning off any who approached him.

I noticed Roberto was being buggered by one of the nobles while beside him another of the choirboys was being buggered by one of the noble's sons. I also noticed that while one of the female courtesans was being fucked by one of the teenage boys from the opposite table she was at the same time being buggered by a fake penis by a second, and while another was being buggered by one of the teenage sons a second was fucking her cunt with a cucumber. Three of the courtesans had surrounded the other castrati and were rapidly masturbating, intent on spraying his naked body with their seed, while beside them one of the clergy had his face buried between the legs of a courtesan and was also masturbating while she sat on the table kissing and caressing one of the teenage boys from our table while another whore was on her knees sucking on his cock.

Thirty men, women and boys, all naked, all engaged in one sex act or another, standing, sitting, or laying on the floor and on the tables, panting and gasping in their exertion and their lust. How could Romano and I not get caught up in the lust all around us? What had begun as a deception to avoid being approached by any of the courtesans or the guests, turned into a necessity, the two of us forced to fake having sex with each other lest our deception be discovered. We caressed each other, at first decently, caressing backs and arms, and then more intimately, legs, backsides and chests, and as our lust began to grow in spite of our efforts to hold back our carnal desires, our hands found each other's nipples, thighs and privates.

Necessity quickly turned into desire and thirty became thirty-two. Surrounded by rutting men, women and boys, how could two fourteen year old boys remain of pure mind and heart? As our blood began to race, our flesh began to swell and our breathing became more laboured. My member throbbed and ached to be caressed more firmly, to be grasped, to be sucked, to have it buried in another's body, and as Romano's caresses became more and more intimate his flesh rose and pressed hard against my stomach. Looking into each other's eyes we knew the need the other was feeling, and the futility of resistance. We kissed more sincerely and we grasped each other's swollen member and began to stroke. Feeling that turgid, throbbing tube of flesh in my hand was a familiar feeling but it was different too, that tube not being my own, and feeling a hand grasping and stroking my own swollen flesh was also familiar but different not being my own fingers. My cockhead itched with the thought that I was holding in my hand another boy's most private part, and he was holding mine in his. Faster and faster we stroked, kissing and nibbling each other's face at the same time, and I quivered and inhaled deeply with the pleasure pulsating up my cock, the same pleasure that I knew was pulsating through the cock I was stroking. Finally I felt the twang deep in my groin and my seed raced up my member and spurted out the tip, spraying my new friend, and at the same time I felt his stiff prick throb and his hot, wet seed shot out of his cock and struck my chest, spraying my nipples and stomach and oozing down my hot, flushed body. Gasping and dizzy with our ejaculation, we sat and held each other as we tried to catch our breath.

That was not the end, but only the beginning. The others had come also, but after a brief rest, they resumed, some with the same partners, most switching to someone else, many of those who had partnered with females now partnered with males and two of the female courtesans now partnered with each other, the only two not partnered being young Gioffre who now sat with his stiff little cocklet firmly squeezed between his thumb and first two fingers as he stared in amazed, virgin shock at the two women with their faces buried in each others crotch, and Johann Burchard, who urged everyone on while keeping protective watch over young Gioffre. Romano and I were in each other's arms once again, and soon found ourselves in the same position as the two women, our faces at each other's crotch. I slipped my lips about his once again stiff member and sucked on it eagerly and unabashedly, and I quivered with delight as I felt his lips encircle mine and his suction begin. I sucked and swallowed my cock-flavoured saliva with the eagerness of a drunkard swilling wine, and to me his cock was a slender wine bottle and his seed was the wine, the finest, sweetest wine one could imagine. I was drunk, having had far too much juice of the grape, but I was drunk on sex too, pure, hot, unabashed sex. How could I not with the orgy around me?

Desire had turned into fate. I loved men. The thought suddenly appeared in my mind. I had known that for some time, but now I accepted it. It was what I was. It was my destiny. As Plato and Michelangelo had said, love between men, in this instance between boys, was love beyond all compare, the supreme expression of love. There was no part in it for women. I sucked on the stiff, throbbing cock of my new friend desperately and with pleasure, and I thrilled with the pleasure of having him sucking on my most private part. I loved the taste of his cock, and the smell of it and his balls. There was nothing that could be of greater pleasure.

When Romano came, I swallowed his seed, desiring it, thrilling with its sweet taste, its slimy texture, its musky, masculine fragrance. I inhaled the fragrance of sex, of milk, of sweating balls, of cock, and I swooned as I filled his mouth with my own seed, thick and copious, the tip of my cock burning with delight. We snuggled and embraced and laughed, our bodies hot and sticky with each other's seed and sweat, our blood racing in our veins, the taste of each other's cock on our lips and the marvellous flavour of each other's milk on our tongues. I was aware of the Ceremoniere calling out the names of those who had the most ejaculations and recalled Salmino or Julius or someone telling me Cardinal Borja greatly valued a man's virility and measured it by the number of times he could shoot his seed. To the merriment of the guests, the Ceremoniere held up a well padded and gaudily coloured codpiece bedecked with ribbons which he said would be the prize for the man who shot his seed the most times.

At the time I felt I could shoot my seed forever, and I wanted to shoot it again, not for the prize, but for the sheer pleasure of it. I wanted to shoot it deep up the rectum of my new friend, and I wanted him to fill my rectum with his milk. I told him of my desire, and he looked into my eyes and I could see the same lust, the same desire. In a room of men, women and boys driven by the devil how could we not? I lubricated his hole with the slime of a broken egg I somehow had found and I eagerly rammed my cock up his ass, and he eagerly accepted it, telling me he had never done such a thing before but had heard of boys who had, and had wondered about it. Determined I would make his first time as memorable and as delightful as I could, slowed down and gave him time to relish the new feeling of having a fellow man's cock up his ass, and me time to enjoy the delight of having one's stiff, aching cock squeezed tightly by another boy's rectum. I fought the temptation to speed up until he himself could no longer wait and he began to buck to and fro, ramming his ass back against my groin to drive my throbbing cock deeper up his ass and pumping his hips to work my member in and out of his body faster, no longer satisfied with the pace I had set.

I took his virgin ass that night, and shot my seed up it, and then turned and gave him the opportunity to have the same pleasure. He used my own slime to lubricate my hole and then positioned himself behind me and pressed his stiff prick against my eager hole. I opened up to him and thrilled with the delight of being penetrated by another boy, a delight that was all the more intense knowing it was the first time he had ever had his cock up another boy's ass. He grasped my hips and began to pump to and fro as I had, going slowly at first, this being his first time, but soon the lust welled up in his loins and he began to bang me harder and harder, ramming his stiff, aching cock in and out of my hole desperately, eager to shoot his seed, but of course having already done so twice, his body took a much longer time, much to the delight of both of us. There can be no act more intimate, no act more giving, than to have one's ass fucked by another male. As his breathing grew laboured and I felt his hot breath against the back of my neck, I gasped and grunted like a stuck pig with the delight of being his first fuck. Finally, he inhaled sharply and rammed his body against my butt and grasped my hips tightly as his seed shot up his cock and into my body. I gasped and swooned with the delight of having another boy's hot, thick seed filling my rectum, and with the special pleasure of knowing it was the very first time for him to plant his seed up the arse of another boy.

Partners changed and flowed about us as we sat there, but we remained together in each other's arms oblivious to the others. At long last the wine, and our seed, ran out.

What could cause a normal, decent human being to behave so? What can cause such all consuming lust in a pure and virile heart? What can cause two God-fearing, mother-loving, obedient and responsible sons to rut like common animals? What power does Satan have that he can drive a man to do such things? Is it the nature of man? Are we all beasts and sinners from the moment we are born as Father Francesco has told us time and time again? Are we so weak that we succumb to the pleasures of the flesh so easily, that a hot, hard, throbbing cock can so easily and quickly control the mind and the heart? As Romano and I staggered out of the Papal Palace and down the street, he to where he and his father were lodged, and I to the Theresa del Morau, each of us with a silk purple and gold embroidered codpiece tucked in his doublet, for what reason neither of us could recall, we agreed that what had happened to us that night had been the pinnacle of delight in our short, fourteen years, and that we would not breathe a word of it to another soul.

J.O. Dickingson

Travels with Nicolau Ribeiro

Chapters 7-8

7. Florence

8. The Vatican