"Garry Kilworth - The Sculptor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kilworth Garry)

current, following the holy circle. I defy you to find where the pattern
begins and where it ceases, for it is one continuous flowing band."
"Marvellous . . ." NiccolЄ heard the High Priest breathe.
There were angels of every kind, some nude, some clothed in flowing robes,
some wielding swords of justice. There were seraphim brandishing spears of
truth, and cherubim with little wings, drawing on cupid bows with tiny
arrows.
"But look closely my lord, at the features . . ."
The High Priest did as he was bid.
" . . . every one of them," continued NiccolЄ, "has your face, when you
were a young and beautiful youth."
There was silence in the room for a long time.
Finally, da Vinci walked past his prisoner, looked down on the multitude
of marble figures at this feet, all bearing his features from a time when
he was at his most handsome.
"Superb," he whispered, stroking the one in his hand lovingly. "Wonderful
- ," but then he cried out, as if in pain, as he plucked a cherub from the
holy ring.
"There's one with a broken wing," he cried.
A guard near to NiccolЄ moved uncertainly, as if he believed he was
expected to do something about his master's anguish, but da Vinci held up
a withered arthritic hand.
NiccolЄ spoke quickly.
"An accident, father. I shall carve another to replace it. I brought
enough of the marble with me to carve three more statuettes, should it be
necessary."
"But the patterns . . .?"
"I can match them. As a sculptor of figurines I have no equal, save
yourself in the days when your joints were supple. I am you, when you were
younger, without your arthritis."
Once more the middle-aged man studied the statuette, minutely, weighing it
in his hands. Then he picked up another and did the same.
"This is truly a great work of art," he said when he had finished, "but I
shall have them inspected closely before I allow them into my chambers.
After all, you may have hidden a spring-loaded trap amongst them? One of
those cherubs perhaps, lets loose its arrow as I hold it up to my eye? Or
some devious device to administer poison? Perhaps if I pricked my finger
on one of those spearpoints? I have lived so long, because I am without
trust."
"It is part of your genius."
"Which has rubbed off on you, it seems."
"Am I not my father's son?"
Da Vinci placed a hand on NiccolЄ's head.
"You are indeed. You took a great risk coming here, to give me these. I
almost had you beheaded before I saw you. There are many plots against me.
Many. But there was something very audacious in the manner in which you
expected an audience. I was curious to see you before you died."
"Am I to die, my lord, for being your loyal son?"
Da Vinci snorted.
"Don't put too much faith in flesh and blood. You can't prove I'm your