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On revival, Lovino's hearing was the first of his senses to recover. As he drew his first breath, he heard a clatter and a loud yell.
This was immediately followed by a scuffling noise and heavy breathing, and then by a loud shout, quite near him:
"You! You are the true phoenix! By Hermes, I never thought to witness it. The revivification of the flesh has been miraculously achieved before my eyes!"
Hermes? Who would swear by him in this day and age? Had he somehow been flung back in time? Was this a vision of his past he was experiencing?
He struggled to move his lips. "Pater?"
"The corpse speaks Latin! O felicitous day!"
No, that voice was definitely speaking Italian, and in a Neapolitan dialect he knew well besides, though tinged with Roman accent.
Lovino opened his eyes. He was lying naked and entirely uncovered on a wooden table covered in a greased cloth. A stony, thick-boned medieval vault stretched above him. This view was almost immediately blocked by the man to whom the overly excited voice belonged. From what little he could see, he wore no wig and was attired in a greased, sleeved apron on which blood was liberally spattered. His eyes were filled with a strange spark that Lovino was momentarily at a loss to understand.
"Please, could you speak a little more quietly?" he said in Italian this time.
"Oh, of course. My apologies, I was caught up in the fire of the moment."
Something about the man's previous words finally stuck in Lovino's brain. "Why did you call me a corpse?"
"I...Oh dear. I can explain. You see-"
But in this moment, the Incarnation's senses suddenly decided to fully revive. Lovino winced as pain set fire to his entire trunk. He tried to sit up, and came face to face with the sight of his own exposed ribcage.
This time, indignation won over exhaustion. "WHAT THE HELL?"
The man who was most likely responsible for his current state hurriedly pressed down on his shoulders. "Please! Lie down again for now, otherwise some organ might fall out and prove most difficult to replace."
"Would you mind telling me what by all the seven hells is going on here?" Looking further down, it was apparent that the entirety of his torso, from his neck down to his intestines, had been meticulously stripped of skin which now hung loose at his sides.
Lovino only reluctantly lay prone once again. "And who are you anyway?"
"Well, you see, after the battle-"
"Your. Name. First."
"Of course. Raimondo di Sangro, Prince of Sansevero, at your service."
"Ah yes, I remember now. You were taking part in the battle too."
Romano had heard many tell of the Mad Prince in his travels. They'd said that he had nearly blown his entire town to smithereens with his experiments. That he reanimated corpses to do his bidding by means of fiendish clockwork devices. That he was a Freemason who sought to defy God Himself and possess the secrets of life and death. He'd not taken much stock in any of these rumours. But now that he was face to face with the man, Lovino found himself beginning to believe.
Especially since said individual had just been happily engaged in dissecting his own body.
Lovino turned his head to face the man. "Now would you kindly mind explaining what the FUCK I am doing here?"
"After the battle, I decided to roam the frightening landscape of its aftermath, in search of a relatively intact body to anatomize for my own studies. There I found you, who had expired without a single mark on your body from the shock to your innards produced by the force of a nearby cannonball's impact. I all unthinking, thought you a gorgeous, untouched corpse, the most perfect of specimens. The young are so beautiful in death, both inside and out, you know."
"So you brought me back...somewhere? And decided to dissect your specimen before it began to smell," continued Lovino weakly, not knowing if he should be flattered by the Prince's last comment.
"Yes, I intended to scrutinize the mystery of the exact manner of your passing, which has never been examined before. You are in a gatehouse at Velletri. It was the best I could do on short notice. Personally, I would have infinitely preferred the crypt of the cathedral, seeing as it is built over a pagan temple. But alas, my wish to search for the remains of the ancients in the crypt when I had finished my dissection of you remained unfulfilled, for the sacred relics held in it are not to be disturbed under any circumstances. How blind of those benighted church fathers! I could have witnessed your reawakening in a pagan temple, such a fitting setting for an immortal, but no! That chance was denied me."
"What of the battle?"
"We won it. Quite handily, in fact."
"That's good to hear." The would-be anatomy lesson closed his eyes and tried to will away the pain for a moment.
With infinite reverence, the prince approached and put his finger on Lovino's exposed carotid artery at his neck. "To think, I have touched the secret of life itself." He smiled absentmindedly to himself.
The former exquisite corpse cracked an eye and stared dubiously at him. "Now, would you kindly mind stitching me up again?"
"No, no, of course not. But- will stitching alone suffice to heal these-wounds I have so unfortunately inflicted on you? I am glad I had not cut away your ribs to reveal the heart yet!"
"Oh, I'm tougher than I look. Do you know who I am?"
Those words seemed to awaken a strange reverence in the previously brazen noble. He stepped away from the table and executed a deep bow of the sort generally reserved for royalty. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would say you are a wise man, who has penetrated the secret of eternal life-"
"Fool. I am your Patria."
Di Sangro looked up sharply from his bow. "Truly?"
"Truly."
"My God, to think I have offended all the folk that sleep within your breast, of which I am but one-"
"More importantly, could you hurry up and sew me back together already? I'm starting to get a chill in this damn tower."
"Right. Let me get my equipment." Raimondo rushed off and Lovino heard various loud clinkings as he went through what sounded like several capacious traveller's bags. All the while, the Mad Prince kept talking to himself. "By Hermes Thrice-Great, I have met a true immortal on this day. O fortunate hour!"
Having seemingly got what he needed, he headed off in another direction. "I am only going to boil water to clean these instruments," he shouted at the prone figure. "I'll be right with you after that."
"Do you have any anaesthetics?" Lovino had belatedly remembered that Nations were not immune to pain when subjected to surgery.
"Indeed, I do." The Prince rushed out of his line of vision once again, and more scuffling and rummaging ensued. He continued to mutter to himself as he worked. "There. Now dilute in- oh, I suppose wine will have to do- and then... Can't have you sitting up again, so where did I put that funnel?"
After the long winded process of inserting a metal funnel with great care into Lovino's mouth ("I have seen idiots break teeth while doing this, and to give you more pain than strictly necessary would be against my creed."), and pouring a rather strange-tasting liquid down it, the prince sat down next to Romano and waited for the drugs to take effect.
In short order, a noise of boiling water suddenly became audible. Di Sangro shouted: "The instruments!" and dashed off to remove the pot from the fire. Having hauled the pot over next to the examination table, he sat down again with a satisfied thump.
"What sad pale shades we mortals must seem to you," he said by way of recommencing his conversation. "Perhaps it is a bit too forward of me to ask, but were you privy to some of the secrets of the ancients in your day?"
"Not really. I was a child at the time, and even if I did ask questions of my pedagogues, my memory of the answers is sometimes hazy."
"Of course not. I should have guessed as much. Your daily existence had no reason to be stocked with arcane knowledge. You dined, you went to the baths, you played pranks on your tutors- such was the round of your life, I trust."
Lovino was silent. It had been a long time since he'd thought of his childhood, and he found the memories were overwhelming him. His father's beard hairs, so rough on the day before he went to the baths to have them removed. His broad back, so filled with scars and yet so warm and reassuring when he was carried home half-asleep after the first dinner party he'd been permitted to attend.
He decided to change the subject so he didn't end up losing more bodily fluids through his eyes.
"Before, you called me beautiful, I think. Was that only because you thought me an appropriate specimen?"
"Oh no, no! Dead or alive, you are an exceedingly pretty young man!"
Lovino turned his head slightly so he could see the prince's pale complexion more clearly. "You did not find the colour of my skin offensive to your eyes?"
"But why should I? It was the dark-skinned people of Egypt who first penetrated the mysteries of the universe!" Di Sangro took the Incarnation's hand. "No, my dear lad. for all you may suffer outrageous insults from my fellow nobles (more fools they), I am not one to speak ill of folk merely due to their complexion."
"...Thank you," said Romano, and meant it.
"Think nothing of it, my dear, for such compliments pale in the face of your countenance. Ah, your entire being has enraptured me!" He gently took Lovino's face in his hands and gazed at him fondly.
"There were once superstitions to this regard, but you of all people must know I cannot transmit my undying state to you through physical contact," whispered Romano.
"I do. I am merely thrilled to know an immortal's touch. If you would permit me this privilege, that is."
Lovino merely smiled and nodded.
The prince's kiss was passionate and precise, lingering over the plumpness of Romano's lower lip. Lovino was suddenly certain that he'd felt this man's mouth on him before. But where?
Di Sangro paused to draw breath, and Lovino saw his view of the ceiling had grown hazy. "I think your beverage is putting me to sleep."
"Then I shall cease my worship of Her Cytherian Majesty, and ply myself to work!" shouted the Prince enthusiastically.
Lovino was about to plead with him not to yell such things so loudly when they were in an echoing tower chamber, but he suddenly found he could no longer keep his eyelids open at all.
Before long, the gatehouse tower resounded to the strains of a triumphant aria, sung by none other than the Prince himself as he carefully sewed his Nation back together again.
When he had finished, he contemplated the sleeping Romano. "My condolences," he said quietly. "You may be cold, but I cannot cover your nakedness with a sheet at this time, you could risk sepsis if the cloth sticks to your incisions." He reached over and ruffled the Nation's hair. "How like an antique statue you are! It seems the chronicles were right when they said you much resemble your father."
He dragged a chair and a small cushion over next to the table. "And now, to sleep, and to await the revival of the Body in the Tomb."
With that, he sat and laid his head down next to Lovino, falling into the arms of Morpheus almost instantly, exhausted from both the excitement of the hour and his work.
Much later, Romano awoke to a ray of light falling on him from one of the arrow slits in the tower. He turned his head away from the blinding rays, and found himself face to face with the still-somnolent Prince. Taking a moment to contemplate him, Lovino smiled at his smooth, unperturbed brow. It seemed even mad geniuses found peace in sleep.
Slowly and carefully, he attempted once again to raise himself on his elbows. This time, there was only residual pain. He eyed his wounds and saw they were healing well. In which case, it was high time he got some clothes on.
Lovino was about to try and edge himself off the dressing table when he felt Raimondo stir. He looked over and saw the prince gazing at him. "No matter your attitude, you are always the very picture of an ancient carving."
The Prince got up, stretched, and rummaged in the nearest bag for a clean sheet, which he carefully draped around Romano's shoulders. Pausing with a hand on his shoulder as he felt the Nation shiver, he continued: "I am sorry to say your clothes are too dirty for me to willingly return them unwashed. Thus, I have nothing to warm you with other than sheets and my own unworthy, corrupt, mortal shell."
This time it was Lovino who reached forward and embraced the Prince. "I will gladly receive the warmth of this body you deem unworthy, for I have seen it houses a noble soul." Romano thought back to Di Sangro's flippant dismissal of his outer appearance. How often had he been sniffed at by ladies behind fans, and mistaken for a servant by their husbands?
Raimondo ruffled his hair and whispered: "I would fain worship you with my body as the ancients once did with their Nations, but you are rather fragile at the moment, and I would not expose you to undue exertions."
"You're supposed to ask permission from the Nation when you do that," muttered Lovino.
"Oh, of course! Would you-"
"Yes, but as you said, not now."
Then footfalls sounded on the tower stairs, and the Prince rushed to the door. "Quickly, veil yourself! The beauty of your body does not deserve to be contemplated by the undeserving!"
Romano's hands moved unthinkingly, and when the guards entered the room, he found to his own surprise that he'd wrapped the sheet around himself like a toga.
Seeing the room occupied by a mad scientist and the ancient statue he'd seemingly just revived, the guards nearly turned tail and fled.
Di Sangro contemplated their faces, briefly turned and looked back at Lovino, smiled at his attire, and hastened to calm the panicked guardsmen.
"This lovely ragazzo you see here in antique dress, is the very body I brought in last night. As you can judge, the exquisite corpse ended up being a beautiful living boy, and it seems I was mistaken in judging him dead."
One of the guards swallowed, pointed at Romano, and swallowed again. "Oh, so you weren't gonna-"
The Prince stepped forward and gazed angrily at the unshaven man. "I know the ignorant masses tend to spread all matter of untruths about my person, but are you seriously accusing me of necrophilia?"
He turned away, hand held to forehead. "The imprudence of it! I would never even think to attempt such a thing. More such since I know, as many don't, that the venereal diseases a body can harbour do not cease their activity after death. And even the purest of persons, it seems, can become infected in its members with entirely new forms of diseases that breed in the flesh of the dead."
He sharply moved to face the guards again.
"Why, I remember a time when I was called in to the University of Napoli because of a medical student who had caught a mysterious illness, unknown to even the sagest of the doctors. After some experimentation, I determined the cause of his illness to be a certain infection, previously unknown to science, that lodges in the generative organs, but only of the deceased. Needless to say, the student was expelled for his impious conduct towards the dead, after I cured his disease, of course."
One of the men at the door made a retching sound.
"In any case, I have found out that this boy is of an extremely high ranking family, and he was lucky to have me extract him from the battlefield. Now go tell the servants to bring food and a change of clothes for the young man here. Wait, before you go-" He rushed over to a table, whipped a notebook and some paper out of his pocket, copied something from the notebook to the page, and handed it to a guard. "Here, the boy's measurements, and-" he produced a bag of money from another pocket- "payment for the clothes and the food."
The men rushed off downstairs without further ado. Turning, the Prince saw Romano had begun to shiver, and he hastened to find more sheets in his capacious bags. "That poor student," he said continuing in the vein of the earlier conversation he'd had with the guards.
"You see, this is the tragedy of libidinous young men, who have no outlet for their desires other than each other, clap-infested whores and rent boys, and the yet more noxious bodies of the dead. These poor ignorant boys! If only the church did not forbid onanism, then they could have a ready outlet for their desires without risking infection!"
"I think some of them do it regardless," said Romano as he began wrapping some more sheets around himself.
"True, but as they do so, they are constantly plagued in their minds by the voices of the holy fathers, who shout that it is a sin, when theirs is a private matter of no concern and no harm to anyone! And then, there is the additional troublesome matter that plagues civilization: most all of these men have simply no idea how to go about satisfying their wives. And most women who are not trained courtesans equally have no idea how to proceed to achieve said satisfaction."
By this point, Lovino had fetched himself a chair and the two of them were sitting amicably face to face. The Prince continued on in this vein for quite a spell, lambasting the Church mercilessly all the while, until the food and clothing for Romano finally arrived. Di Sangro then busied himself with setting the former dissection table with the provided foodstuffs while his Nation dressed.
"Bread, wine, cheese, preserved ham. A frugal meal at best. How sad that I cannot at least offer you one of our pizzas!"
"You'll have to treat me to one once we get home then," remarked Romano, pulling on his shirt and joining him at the table.
"Am I to take from this that you shall join my cortège on the way home? How delightful! I am honoured." The Prince passed him a loaf of bread.
They both ate and drank heartily despite the poverty of the food, and Raimondo, in whom nature had combined the Italian's natural propensity to talk with an infinite ability to extemporize on scholarly matters, continued his discourse on manly ignorance of female pleasure.
"I trust that with the wisdom of your accumulated centuries, you are well aware of those women who regularly practice Tribadism."
Lovino nearly choked on his bread and cheese, but nodded.
"The relevance of this statement will become clear momentarily." The Prince helped himself to another slice of ham.
"Summoned away from my estate to attend the reading of a distant maiden aunt's will, my eyes were immediately captivated by an ornate writing desk in her former quarters. I contrived to find myself alone in this room some time afterwards, when the others had gone to dine, and investigated its workings. For I had clearly seen that this furniture was one of a type likely to conceal a hidden compartment. It took me quite some time to crack the sequence needed to open it, but I was rewarded by a voluminous stack of hand-sewn pages, on top of which lay a note from the lady herself, congratulating me personally on having deciphered the riddle of the desk, and pleading my enlightened person to keep these papers safe from the ignorant. Here, have some more wine."
"Having brought the papers home, I found they were none other than a manual written by the lady herself, of the various methods employed by Tribads to achieve pleasure and satisfaction. And astonishingly, some of these methods, when applied by a husband and wife, would greatly increase their marital bliss. By this, of course, I refer not to the duty of engendering progeny, but of conducting affairs to the mutual satisfaction of the fair and virile sex."
"In an effort to prove the usefulness of these techniques, I first proceeded to try them out on my wife. After some experimentation, they proved highly successful, and I then proceeded to re-write the relevant extracts of the book and publish them anonymously under the title "Secrets of the Marital Bower". Naturally, it was immediately condemned as a work of gross obscenity by the Church, but the widespread creation of illicit copies saved it from obscurity. Bootleggers do have their usefulness sometimes. As for the handwritten volume, I made a copy of it for myself and handed the original over to a most distinguished lady of high degree whom I knew to be a Tribad, and I am sure it is still proving useful for her and her suite."
There was something in his discourse that triggered a memory in Romano. He chewed angrily, trying to recall what it was. As he reached out his hand for another sip of wine, the remembrance finally broke through, and he saw before him an overly excitable teenager, who exclaimed: "Hmm. Some experimentation is required, then!"
With that, the floodgates were opened.
"Are you by any chance, the same Raimondo I once got to know at the Jesuit school in Rome?"
The Prince stopped mid-sentence. Then he stared and beamed. "You! You never gave your real name, you trickster sprite! Always sneaking in to the complex!"
"I'd never have gotten up to half as much trouble if you hadn't decide to experiment that day."
Di Sangro grinned. "True enough. Well then! Would your gracious self care to renew relations with me where we left them when last we parted?"
Romano smiled back. "I'd be delighted to. It's been far too long."
So it was, then, that Lovino came to stay in the Prince's castle in Napoli, with the blessings of his ruler, Carlos III of Spain and the Two Sicilies, who much appreciated the capacities of his Highness. The matter of what he got up to then, and the records of his unruly escapades with Di Sangro in his youth, shall be left for another time.