Venice was a great city… much more interesting than he thought before he’d seen it with his own eyes. But it suited him so well! A strange city and now there was another strange man within it. According to gossip, there were plenty of strange men here though. Charles didn’t know if there were any like him though. He heard whispers of secret orders and the like, but he didn’t know them and he never joined any in France, even if he knew about them. Charles liked to follow his own path and his own directions and orders… he did not do well with people who told him what to do and when and how.

So far, he spent a lot of time exploring the city, after his arrival some time ago. He didn’t count the days or the weeks. Sometimes he would look at a calendar, but only when he had to. If he had a vision or saw something for someone, and they wanted to know a more exact time for the vision, he’d find out. But besides that, time didn’t seem to matter to him. Charles was timeless; an old and clever man trapped in a common man’s body and mind, with the face of a youth.

Somehow, today, he’d made it to a marketplace. It was always filled with people at such places and it was interesting! From his purse he fished a few coins and went to buy himself a bit of bread to enjoy as he walked around. When the bread was in his hand, he sensed something nearby and caught a young boy trying to open his purse.

Without a word, Charles gently pushed him away, opened the purse and gave the boy a coin. He also broke off some of his bread and gave it to the boy. The boy stared at him with wide eyes and then scurried away. Charles shrugged and turned to leave the market stall that sold the bread, “He’ll be back for more!” The shopkeeper said behind him and Charles gave him a small smile. “Of course he will. But he’ll remain what he is, if he never learns people can be different than what he’s used to.” Charles replied to the shopkeeper, who shook his head. “You think he’ll change because you were kind? Were you born yesterday?” The shopkeeper asked and Charles chuckled, “You tell me. You never know, do you?” And with that, he turned to walk away from the shop and broke small pieces of bread off to place in his mouth and gently chew it, while he watched the market stalls and the people here.

When Fernand didn't have errands to run for "Colomba", he was helping in the "Drunken Duck". Now that they were in port for a couple of days, and that Papa Ludovico had accepted his official request for Margareta's hand in marriage, they had moved in the inn for the duration of the stay in Venice, especially that the room Margareta used to share with Anzola was now all theirs. Margareta's help in the inn was welcome, since the two helpers the family had got in between had left to continue their lives how they considered best, and they were again understaffed.

If the past two days Margareta had accompanied him in the market place, showing him exactly what to buy for the inn and how to know when things were fresh or not so fresh, today he was on his own for the first time. Armed with a list he had written both in French and Venetian, to make sure how he asked for things but what they actually meant as well, and with two big baskets, he was ready to place orders and to bring things with him. Who else in the inn was stronger and more fitted for the supply task?

As he stepped one street corner deeper into the market streets, he saw the scene with the man, the baker and the urchin boy.

"You have done a good deed. And yes, young people can learn there is a better life. I have witnessed such examples, with the help of a priest interested in making a difference," he added.

He had perceived the French accent in the merciful man, not milder than his own, but he kept speaking Venetian , to be understood also by the baker.

@Atrice

Charles had just, by accident, torn a piece of bread off that broke into two pieces and one fell to the ground. That was odd, but he assumed the meaning of it was that he wouldn’t be alone in this market for much longer. And true enough, when he looked up again, a broad-shouldered man with long hair was approaching him and saying he had done a good deed. He said he’d seen other examples where a priest had been helpful.

“There can always be a better life. All people need is someone believing in them and their worth.” At least his parents had done that, by sending him to school and his father sent him to university. They had never been wealthy, but they hadn’t been poor either. And they had managed quite well. Now all there was left however was Charles and the fortune he inherited from his father and the tiny fortune he’d made for himself.

“Are you one of such examples you speak of?” He looked at the stranger, what with his baskets in his arms and wondered what he’d fill them with.

@Elena

Fernand smiled, continuing the conversation.

”Indeed, there can always be a better life, and a child won’t believe in himself until the grown ups believe in their potential,” he confirmed.

As the man asked if he was one of the examples he mentioned, he shook his head:

”No, I wasn’t talking about myself right now, even if it would apply your earlier definition. In my case, no priest was involved. I was talking about two ship boys we have recently got, directly from the streets. Orphans for years, fending for themselves but dreaming for a better life, and some day their dream became true. As for me, I had a father and a stepmother. I was the youngest son of a fisherman. I hated the smell of fish, after having helped my parents since young, and I wanted to be a sailor on a tall ship. For me, the ones who believed in me and in my worth had been the captain who took me first, at twelve, then a sailing master who liked me and taught me to read, to calculate and how to be a good rigger.”

This was exactly why he encouraged Padre Agustin and he intervened himself first to Captain Beppin to allow the young ship boys to get a new life, under the crew’s supervision and education. But now, he looked at the pale Frenchman in front of him, stretching a friendly hand:

”I am always glad to see a compatriot around. I am Fernand Boissier, rigger on Colomba”, he introduced himself.

@Atrice

For people who didn’t know Charles well, he probably had a kind and open appearance – the type you could talk to and he wouldn’t judge you. At least that’s how he also tried to live and perhaps that’s what they saw in him, when they met him. Perhaps that’s why the stranger here so easily shared his whole life story with Charles, whom he’d just met! Charles had only asked a simple question, but what he learned was so much more interesting than what he’d assumed.

He could only smile at the story, “It is good to have people in your life, who believe in you… and people to look up to. I am certain those boys look up to you now. You must teach them the same thing.” The world would only be better if everyone worked together towards a common goal. Sadly though, there were so many different people and so many different goals and people didn't seem to understand that beneath it all, they were the same. Charles had been helping both nobles and revolutionaries in France, simply because he wanted to help the people. Not their titles. But they didn’t see it like that… so now he was here. And he had begun to believe that it truly was fate that had led him here.

The stranger held a hand out to greet Charles formally and introduced himself as Fernand Bossier. Gods, he added a title. Charles probably ought to do the same.

He took the hand, meeting Fernand’s eyes as he did it, “Charles Ponsarde… part doctor and astronomer and entirely a visionary.” He said with a kind and genuine smile, because he did not see anything odd in what he just said, “And indeed you’re right. The world does need more people like you and I.”

@Elena

Fernand smiled, nodding:

”Of course they do, and surely I will teach them. All of us will. With us it’s a safer family than in an orphanage or on the streets how they had been. They will learn seamanship in time. The captain likes them too. Who knows if in fifteen or twenty years from now one of them would become a captain or a sailing master, if having a mind for numbers.”

This had been Fernand’s problem which hindered his further promotions – not having a mind for numbers beyond basic operations.

As the man introduced himself, Fernand stared a bit at him, only partially understanding.

”Our captain loves astronomy and uses to look at stars during nights at sea. If you ever pass by the port and see Colomba at anchor, you’ll be welcome. What’s a visionary, though?”

He smiled and nodded at the statement that the world needed more people like them.

@Atrice

Fernand seemed like such a warm and caring man, he thought to himself while the other talked more about the new boys on the ship and how good it would be for them. Indeed, one might become a captain, most never knew what the future would bring though. But enough talk of ships and boys, the other had introduced himself and Charles did the same, choosing his titles with care. The other stared at him and then finally replied.

“I never finished the education though, but I do know about the stars. And more than just the names and their whereabouts.” Since he also knew a little about the mysterious ancient art of astrology. But of course Fernand had had another question for him.

“It’s in the word, Monsieur.” Charles said, “Vision.” He then added, in case Fernand didn’t quite grasp it yet, “It means I sometimes… see things before they happen.” He spoke slower now, wondering whether Fernand would stay as warm and friendly after this knowledge, but how would Charles ever know anything if he didn’t speak? And how would he ever get more to do in Venice, if he didn’t tell people what he could do?

“People also call me a seer. Perhaps you’re more familiar with that term.” Charles then said and waited to see whether the other man would taunt and mock him and call him a heretic… or if he’d remain the same.

@Elena

So he might know more than Captain Beppin about the stars.

”Our captain used sometimes to tell us their stories too. About Cassiopeia and her bad mother, about the Big Bear and the Little Bear, about the twins who had a god as a father, and so on. I bet you two would have what to discuss a whole night,” Fernand said.

The man explained that he was seeing things before happening, and asked him if he was more familiar with the term of seer.

”Do you mean a fortune teller? I have seen some from afar. How do you do it? Do you have a globe or something?” he asked, a bit interested by the subject.

He wasn;t the too religious kind, ready to consider the other person a dangerous heretic. He had seen Gypsy fortune tellers at fairs, and he had an idea about the thing. He actually thought that, in order for this man, too pale to be a Gypsy, to have this gift, he had to have had an ancestor of this nation. Village superstitions told it was inherited only by blood.

@Atrice

Fernand said his captain told stories about the stars too sometimes; but those were the myths that went with the stars, the ancient stories. Charles did not always focus so much on that, but more on what the position of the stars could tell you about what might happen in your near and even far away future. He smiled still though, “It sounds like we might do that, yes.” Charles replied in a friendly manner to the sailor and rigger.

But he was also still trying to explain what a visionary was and what he did; he even tried with another term. Then Fernand called him a fortune teller and asked if he had a globe. Charles gave him a look, not as if he was stupid, but as if it was kind of cute that he’d think like that. But then he shook his head.

“I don’t use a globe, no.” He knew gypsies would do that, and they would use cards too, but those were all remedies that could help you and Charles didn’t need those. Plus they looked spectacular if you wanted to make some money, and people who did not know much about seeing the future would often believe it more easily, if they could see you did something. Simply closing your eyes and focusing did not seem very spectacular to anyone at all.

“I see it in here.” Charles tapped his forehead with a finger, “I don’t like to call myself a fortune teller… because the future does not only hold fortune. I don’t always know what I will see. So you could ask me if I could see your future fortune, but it might be something else entirely. As long as the future is unknown, we don’t know what to expect, after all.” Charles explained, “But it is never a set path either. My visions will only tell what happens if we continue on our current path. If we change our current path, the future may change into something else too. That boy… his path was going in the wrong direction and I know where it might lead, if he continues it. Even without a vision about him, I think we all know. But perhaps my action today could help him change his path? Who knows? The future is always changeable. The only steady part, which is unchangeable, of our lives is the past.” He barely thought about it, why he spent so much time explaining this, but since Fernand was curious, he had the right to know these things.

@Elena

Fernand was simply trying to relate his compatriot’s words to something he knew – and his world was rather narrow, as time spent at sea during the latest twenty years had been way larger than the time spent on land. He took the statement that the man didn’t use a globe at its value. Indeed, not all fortune tellers used globes. He had seen those who did, as well as those who read in cards, palms, in grains or chickpeas, bones – and what if there were more things he had no idea about?

Then the man explained that he was seeing it in his mind, and why he didn’t call himself a fortune teller.

”Yes, I would ask it from you if you wanted to tell it. And besides what payment you’d ask from me, I’d offer you a free meal at my in-laws inn, not far from here,” he proposed. ”Only that I’d need a bit of your time, as first I have to fill the baskets with the ingredients for the day’s meals.”

He didn’t hesitate to call the Zanottas in-laws. The wedding was set already, papa Ludovico had given his blessing, so they were already engaged and in less than three weeks he’d actually enter their family.

He nodded at the statement that the boy’s path was going in the wrong direction and both of them knew where it might lead, if not changed. To the noose. A young pickpocket of today could be the highwayman or murderer of five to ten years’ time, if surviving.

”Yes, the life can always change,” he said. ”Mine changed with falling in love and now being on the way to getting married. I would wish to know more about this… but I’d be glad with whatever your visions show.”

@Atrice