０１１． ＶＩＤＥＯ | ＡＣＴＩＯＮ

[mansuetus]

Dante had said, remember tonight! for it is the beginning of always.

What shall we be doing tonight, Tranquility?

[ it is late but not too late and Lucrezia is keen on avoiding nightmares and so sleep is not a Thing. ]

I shall be spending my own in the garden. I never before slept upon grass.

Comments

» action;

[mansuetus]

Such haste, I must be honored!

[ because he really didn't take much time at all. She rises, all gold and silks, hurries to greet him with an elegant curtsy. ]

Indeed. Yet I must insist on 'Lucrezia'.

[vivelavenir]

O-oh.

[He made a little bit of a face, seeming to waver on the spot, at being old he'd come quickly; perhaps it seemed too eager? But, well... books. And meeting a historical figure.

Nonetheless, as was his norm, he went a little red and bowed his head. Both in greeting to her curtsy and out of sheepishness.]

Lucrezia, then. It... is a pleasure.

I took the liberty of bringing Dante, and one tragedy in French. I hope you don't mind the extra burden to carry back with you?

[mansuetus]

A more wonderful burden has yet to come to this world. Come. we will walk and you will tell me of this tragedy you have brought me for a few moments. Will I shed many tears over the pages?

[vivelavenir]

Oh-- all right.

[He agreed, before clumsily offering an arm to her, having forgotten for a moment that he ought to. He shifted the books to the other so it was possible.]

I admit that I have. It is about war and hope, individuals and armies. A topic that seems to be relevant across times and cultures. The desire for change, and the imagination that only violence can bring it about. I'm sorry, though; tell me if I offend you by bringing such things to mind. They can be moving, but also harrowing.

[mansuetus]

[ she laces her arm through his, smiles up at him. ]

No. Tell me more. Which war is it? who fights who and what do they hope for? I will hear more of it.

[vivelavenir]

[When he has her arm, he begins to stroll with her, knowing his way about this section of the garden to a tee. He would go slowly, but was a bit out of step with her nonetheless, owing to a combination of natural unease, excitement over the topic at hand, and a bit of mild flustering from taking a lady on a turn about the gardens in the first place.]

You have a wonderful curiosity. [Complimented, with a small smile.] It is an epic, having taken thirty years to write-- more years than we have taken so far to write ourselves. It is a tragi-comedy, which retells the religious wars of the seventeenth century, stripping them of the beauty and majesty poets of the eighteen century lent them and showing the lives of soldiers and martyrs starkly, instead. There are a number of battles, and philosophy in between their recounts. The Europeans fight each other, and they all hope for God I would say.

[mansuetus]

Religious wars?

[ she frowns at him; she knows of Islam and she knows of the Jews but there are no wars. Still, the seventeenth century is so well beyond her, and she knows much can change. ]

Who fought who?

[vivelavenir]

You may not wish to read it, if I spoil the whole of it.

[Undoubtedly, it would sound like a fiction to someone from before it, as much of the 'modern' literature on board did to him.]

Shortly, the whole of Europe fought itself. There was the Thirty Year's War, begun between Protestants and Catholics in the Holy Roman Empire.

Then it became rather political, with the influence of France. But the religious issues were not quite solved, one might say.

[mansuetus]

Who are they? These - Protestants? Of the Catholics of our Holy Mother Church I know what there is to be known but what are they, these protestants who would fight them?

I'm so sorry that he's walking wordspam!

[vivelavenir]

They are of the Reformation, Mademoiselle Lucrezia. They also believe in the Catholic God and Christ, but they are not Catholics. Three differences in their doctrine make it so that neither side agrees and they can see no compromise. Protestants believe that the Bible should be followed to the word, and as such, do not believe in purgatory or pray to saints. They believe that salvation through works of goodness is not possible, nor by confession; only in absolute faith, with the core trusting that those who will be saved are determined before birth and not during life. They say man is a vehicle for God's good, and so man has no good of his own, as they derived from original sin.

Lastly, and I am sorry if it shocks you-- they do not think the Pope the Vicar of Christ, nor grant him the powers of ex cathedra.

[He would feel badly for rambling, likely, just as soon as he noticed he was. But as religion was another favourite topic of his, believing in over fourty himself... well. Er.]

hush he's lovely

[mansuetus]

-- It is blasphemy.

[ and it shocks her, it does. that the holy mother church had split so, that some do not believe in purgatory, then what is left? heaven and hell and where would Lucrezia be in that sort of choice? where would all the Borgias be in a world that does not know the Holy Father? ]

<3

[vivelavenir]

To some.

[He agreed, lightly, not wishing to offend. As someone who believed in the possible co-existence of all religions, over fourty in number, he didn't very much ascribe to heresy as an idea.]

And due to that, of course, there was no reconciliation of these interpretations, and there was a long war.

I hope I have not shocked you out of sorts, Mademoiselle?

[mansuetus]

You have shocked me but not out of sorts. I have never thought there would be any Christians that would refuse to know our Holy Father. Was there a winner to this...war? The one you told me about?

[vivelavenir]

[He gives a small, if not unhappy smile and casts his eyes down.]

Is there such a thing as a winner, in a war? I wonder.

[mansuetus]

I wondered if you would ask me this question. I do not know, we read of great victories, do we not, signore? read about them in history books and in songs but I know very little of wars yet to tell if the taste of victory indeed exists.

[vivelavenir]

But where there is victory, also, someone must lose; and where there is brutality, even for the glory of the future, the glory of the soul is lost. It is better that men be brave, and it is better that we fight for right than submit to wrong... but the victory is in the peace of the next generation, and not in the hearts of those who used hands in violence. Heroes are not winners, I think.

[He gave, softly, biting his lip briefly before shaking his head.]

I hope it is not unmanly to say so. Men ought to be the ones to fight, so that women and children may reap the winning soonest. But I fear they often suffer the most.

[mansuetus]

Not unmanly but somewhat mistaken. Men fight with their swords and their politics yet women fight in their own manners as well, and their wars, albeit more secret and quiet, are no less ruthless.

[ and who knows better than Lucrezia Borgia? ]

[vivelavenir]

Oh-! [Softly, startled.] Oh, in such cases, yes. Women are by far the stronger sex, overall. They must fight even during times of peace, no? I meant only in arms and horses, when I talk of battle. Not of the metaphorical, spiritual and mental.

[mansuetus]

[ she laughs because really, you are quite adorable. ]

Women fight at all times, certainly. And some men do as well. What of you? Are you a warrior?

[vivelavenir]

[And he blushes, assuming he must sound quite silly by now.

But his smile flickers just barely at the question, growing calmer.]

A warrior, no. A poet. But sometimes poets, like women, must fight with arms and not words.

I was a revolutionary, Mademoiselle Lucrezia. In France, of 1832. So a soldier for a breath in time, but perhaps no warrior.

[mansuetus]

A poet! then I must read your verse, then.

[ 1832 sounds like ages and ages away but she cranes her head to look at him. ]

Against the French King?

[vivelavenir]

[She is probably used to him going red in the cheeks by now, but just in case not, he does it again.]

Then, I will write one especially for you. But I cannot promise any greatness.

[A slow nod.]

So to speak. A 'democratically elected' Monarch; yes. Against the French King.

[mansuetus]

[ bless you, Jean. She likes you so much. ]

It would be an honor and a greatness in its own right, to have a poem for myself. The first one written for me.

[ she thinks of it. ]

In my days, the French King is known to be very cruel.

[vivelavenir]

The first? I am very surprised by that. Surely not the first, though perhaps you have not seen the others.

[A famous beauty and political symbol? There must be quite a bit, he thinks.

To her kindness, he inclined his head.]

It would seem that French kings have an unnatural and horrible talent for cruelty, ignorance, and imperialism that does not match the hearts nor minds of the French peoples. I hope you have not been a target of such cruelties.

[mansuetus]

Perhaps! Do you know of any others?

[ she hums in thought, looks up at him. ]

Not I but he is certainly a threat on us all if he ever leaves France. He is His Majesty King Charles VIII, signore, whom I am certain you have heard of.