"Miguel?"

The Spanish blacksmith looked up at the sound of his name. He smiled when he saw a tall figure in a black coat and breeches, and gold-colored waistcoat. "Si, Don Aldo. How may I be of help to you?"

The master metalsmith laid down his hammer and walked towards the door of the forge. His padrone, the scholar from Torino, was standing just outside. Miguel Herrero usually did not like to be interrupted in the middle of a job, but he was almost always glad to see the padrone. He had a great deal of respect for Don Aldo, even though he was an Italian. Miguel knew things about Don Aldo that no one else in Melioria did, and some of those things had convinced the blacksmith from Toledo that this quiet professor had the heart of a Spaniard. Not the least of these considerations was that it was through the efforts of Don Aldo that he, Migeuel Herrero, had been delivered from slavery among the Barbary corsairs of Northern Africa. And as if that were not enough, the Professore had made arrangements for the spanish blacksmith to come to this pretty little island to run a forge, to teach apprentices, and to help build its economy as something more than yet another tourist trap on the Grand Tour.

The scholar glanced at what Miguel and his apprentice had been working on.

"Pike heads?"

"Si, Don Aldo. Boarding pikes...for that English privateer that came into the harbor the other day...the one that had letters for the Baronessa. We were talking...and I told them a bit of my story, of the North African pirates and of how they seem to be acting up lately..."

"Ah...I see. And your words made them decide they needed to arm themselves more adequately?"

"Si," the blacksmith replied with a little smile, and then shrugged. "I merely told them a bit about the tactics the african pirates employ..."

Don Aldo nodded. "Very good. Do you need more iron stock?"

"No, we have sufficient. Now then, Professore, what brings you to the forge today?"

"We have finally freed our friend from his constraining circumstances. The operation was a success and he is now ready for transport."

"Ah, that is good news. It went well? He is undamaged?"

"He seems to be. But if you are free, I would like for you to take a look at him. Make sure he is strong enough for the trip, that his joints and weak points are not giving way."

"Of course, Don Aldo, with pleasure. As long as they supported him as I suggested, at the key places, he should be fine. I can go with you right now if you wish."

"If you can go now, that would be splendid. But I cannot accompany you...I must look after some dispatches that are going out with the Santa Beatrice . And she departs very soon."

"I shall attend to the matter at once," replied the blacksmith, inclining his head in a small but heartfelt gesture of respect.

"Milie grazie," answered the scholar, as he turned and headed to the crowded harbor.

Miguel Herrero gave instructions for his apprentice to continue the simpler aspects of the pike head project until he returned. This should not take long, he thought, as went up the ramp by the piazza, under the arches by the little cascade, and through the iron gates to the grand stairway. He went past the newly renovated villa, through the orange grove, and down to the beach, where a huge tripod of stout logs had been erected. Suspended under this tripod, braced in a cradle of sturdy timbers and ropes, was their "friend."

A small group was gathered around, including the German baronessa and La Donna Ariella. Miguel bowed his head to the important ladies and looked around for Padre Cuthbert, the English clergyman and antiquairan who had been overseeing the work here for several months now. Not seeing him, the blacksmith turned to the important ladies.

"Donna Ariella, Baronessa, is Padre Cuthbert here? Don Aldo wished for me to take a look at our friend and see if he is doing well."

The German lady took her ever-present clay pipe out of her mouth and pointed with the stem back up towards the villa.

"Up to the big house he has gone. He is checking on the cart they are building to move the piece. Now that it is out of the ground, they will slide the cart underneath and then take it to the Academy. Please, look at it to see with your knowledge of metal if it is supported properly. Not bending or making the fractures, we hope?"

MIguel nodded and climbed over the dirt piles by the tripod. He placed his hand gently on the mottled green-brown flanks of the great beast. The ancient bronze felt warm from the sun that had been beating down on the lion since he had finally been freed from the sand and earth that had hidden him for so long.

At first glance the statue looked remarkably good. There had only been a few nicks made in his mane and one ear when he was discovored. Someone had seen a bit of green metal protruding from sand, and as soon as it was apparent that they had found an ancient object of some value -- and astonishing size -- the Padre had been brought to see it and he had immediately set about making sure that it would be removed as carefully as possible, without any undue haste, in order to avoid denting and gouging the metal.

It appeared that the effort had been successful.

"He looks good, don't you think?" asked Donna Ariella, with just a hint of concern in her voice.

The master metalsmith stood back for a moment and then he crouched, looking for signs of stress in the metal, and checking the cradle's placement.

It did, in fact, look pretty good.

"Si, Donna Ariella," Miguel answered, "our friend is quite ready to travel."

La Donna Ariella, took her leave to return to the villa and attend to some business of the Council of Regents. Miguel lit a cigar and continued his inspection of the lion and its cradle, while the Baronessa described the arrangements that had been made at the academy to use the hoist in the back, behind the sliding wall panels, to get the statue up to the second floor. Miguel assured her that he thought the plan was sound, and that the lion should be be in good shape on arrival at the new cabinet of curiosities, God willing. Eventually their discussion died away, and all present simply gazed at the metal beast, lost in their own reflections. Miguel's thoughts turned to the men who long ago had fashioned the great lion. He wondered if they had felt the same sense of satisfaction he got from shaping a piece of metal into something elegant or useful. When they finished it, had they looked at what they had created and felt some deep, quietly humbling pleasure for having made such a powerful artifact?

Then he noticed something by his feet. He reached down and brushed away some gravel and sand, revealing a very old coin. He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. The stern face of someone, probably an emperor or king, looked up at him from the grubby metal.

He looked at the inscription. He was pretty sure it said something like "Constantius"

"Well, Senor Constantius" he mused, "I'll bet even if you were a great emperor with mighty legions, and a big palace, you couldn't have ever created anything as wonderful as our friend here. You may have ruled an empire. but you couldn't make beautiful stuff like the lion of Melioria. No, not in a thousand years."

Migeul Herrero, the blacksmith from Toledo and former slave of the Barbary corsairs stood up and laughed.

"Oh well, we can't all be perfect."

He handed the coin to the Baronessa. It could go into the new cabinet of curiosities as well....something for scholars like Don Aldo to ponder and philosophize about. Then he headed back up over the steep hill to see how those boarding pike heads were coming.