When my father’s laugh filled the room, all the morning’s joy fled my heart. I only briefly wondered how a child could feel such apprehension at the sound of his father’s laughter before standing tall and remembering that I was a man. I had become and been the man of my family’s house while he had been away.
   Away on some crusade, some quasi-religious excuse to get new land and ‘be good for God’- Oh, everyone knew it even if they didn’t say it aloud. Alright, the serfs and peasants sometimes didn’t realize it, and most noblewomen never realized it either. But at least I knew, and part of me hated my father for putting his hat in with all that.
   For putting his hat in and leaving us for five years. At least he could have asked me, ‘Antonio, do you want to come with me as my squire?’ even if he didn’t mean it. But no, he didn’t; he left with some of our best for that crusade of good and piety and left us behind.
   I took care of the House he left behind, of my mother and two sisters. My uncle, a bastard whom they’d not allow inheritance, helped me manage the barony. I learned and grew, and tried to surpass everything my father had been.
   And yet when I heard the merry Tuscan chatter from the entry, and calls of ‘the Master is back!’ I could only feel that heavy apprehension coming down like a weight, the worry of a son who still only wishes to make his father proud.