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

He had begun the work, as he had promised, by using the debris from
demolished houses, factories, government buildings, but gradually, as the
fever for greatness took him, so he had urged his priests to find more
materials elsewhere. Gravestones were used, walls were pillaged, wells
were shorn of bricks. The people began to complain but da Vinci told them
the wrath of God would descend upon any dissenter, and since he was God's
instrument, he would see to it that the sentence was death.
By this time the Tower had become a citadel, within whose walls a private
army grew. The Holy Guardians, as they were called, went forth daily to
find more building materials, forcing people from their homes around the
Tower, and tearing up whole streets to get at the slabs beneath.
Not all the citizens were unhappy about da Vinci's scheme, or he never
would have got as far as he did. Many were caught up in his fervour, added
fuel to his excitement and determination. The guild of building workers,
for example, a strong group of men, were totally behind the idea of a
Tower to God. It promised them work for many years to come.
Also the water-carriers, with their mule-pulled carts; the tool makers;
the waggoners carrying supplies for the builders and the Holy Guardians;
the weapon makers; the brick workers; the slate and marble miners. All
these people put themselves behind da Vinci with undisguised enthusiasm.
Da Vinci began recruiting more youths, and maidens, as the Tower's demands
for a larger workforce grew, and these came mainly from the city streets.
When the guild could no longer find willing, strong people to join them,
they sent out press gangs and got their labour that way. Eventually, they
had to get workers from the farms, around the city, and the land was left
to go to waste while the Tower grew, mighty and tall, above the face of
the world.
Churches were among the last buildings to be stripped, but torn down they
were, and their stained-glass windows and marble used to enhance da
Vinci's now fabled monument. The High Priest strived for perfection in his
quest for beauty. Inferior materials were torn out, removed, shipped down
to the ocean in barges and cast into the waves. No blemish was too small
to be overlooked and allowed to remain. Every part of the tower, every
aspect deserved the utmost attention, deserved to meet perfection at its
completion.
Flawlessness became da Vinci's obsession. Exactness, precision,
excellence. Nothing less would be accepted. There were those who died,
horribly, for a tiny defect, a mark out of true that was visible only in
certain lights, and viewed at certain angles, by someone with perfect
vision. There was no such thing as a small error, for every scratch was a
chasm.
This was the form that his obsession took.
By the time tower was half-built the population had already begun to leave
the city. Long lines of refugees trekked across the wasteland, to set up
camps in the hanging valleys beyond, where there was at least a shallow
surface soil for growing meagre crops, though the mountains cast cold
shadows over their fields, and high altitude winds brought early frosts.
Or people made their way to the sea and settled on a coastal strip that
could barely support the fishermen who had lived there before the
multitudes arrived. Many of them died on the march, some travelled by