The most elderly of the fifteen cardinals always retired early, usually just after supper. Cardinal Pignolo had two reasons, one he lamented publicly, and one he could never allow himself to reveal. His well-known wounds did certainly cause much pain as he walked the dark halls between the dining hall and his sleeping chambers; this darkness followed him everywhere. It crept into his bed; it walked beneath his feet; it even crawled into his private sanctuary. It was the fear of his past that haunted him wherever he went. That was his real reason for retreating so early from the dinner table. He knew it would still be light out when he woke from his usual nightmare. Tonight was not exempt from this almost daily torture. As his eyes closed, the past came alive once more.
He was always on the small side when he was a child, and he felt he needed to prove himself. Of course, the other boys would never hurt Renzo because they feared his older brother's strength. But they teased and taunted him for his small size. To prove his worth, Renzo tried - and failed - to compete with the others. Usually, he'd run home as quickly as possible to fetch his brother, Leo, who would deal with the boys, but sometimes Leo had work to do, so Renzo had to stay away from the boys.
When Renzo was twelve, his father was killed in a tragic accident. Leo took on the role of the head of the family though he was only fourteen. To provide for the family, Leo was forced to take a job working under one of the great merchants. His work often took him to the mainland, leaving Renzo alone at home with his mother, mad with grief. Renzo was her only target of frustration, taking a beating on a daily basis, as long as Leo was away. His mother soon turned to drink, and he frequently found himself without food for his mother's addiction consumed the few coins Leo sent home.
One evening, the evening that he would never - could never - forget, he lay, paining from hunger, in the room he ran to as a child to escape the children's tauntings. His mother, howling with grief, swung open the oak door, picked up her screaming son, and proceeded to kick him with all her might. Her strong kicks bashed his rib cage. Several of his ribs snapped, narrowly missing his heart and lungs, causing searing pain in the twelve year old's chest. His screams are what saved him, as they attracted the attention of a group of passing monks.
They ran into his house, pulled his raving mother off of him, and attended to his wounds. Evidently, the snapped ribs pierced his skin, causing ravenous bleeding. He could still hear his mother, howling like a dog. He turned to see three men trying to keep his mother out of the room. The man kneeling over him had taken off his cloak, ripped it into shreds, and was using these strips to clean the blood from his wounds.
The delicate old man awoke with a start. After assuring himself that it was a dream, he called out for his servant to bring him some wine. Cardinal Pignolo sat at his desk where the golden goblet had been placed. He opened a scroll so well-read he had practically memorized it. This scroll contained his story from after that terrible night to the day he left the monastery for Rome. When the nightmares struck, he found that reading this put his mind at ease. He began to read.
