"John Morressy - The Juggler" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

for no one recognized him. But he proceeded to astonish them by recalling incidents from long ago. Pointing
to a white-haired man, he said, "You, Ansel the cobbler, gave me shelter during the great snow. You found
me shivering in rags on your doorstep, and you took me in and made a place for me to sleep by your stove.
Do you remem-ber? You fed me and gave me a warm coat. Thanks to you and your kindness I am alive
today." The man gaped at him, then nodded in sudden enthusiastic rec-ognition and turned to those nearby
to attest to the memory. "And Damien. Where is Damien the carpen-ter? You fed me with your own hand
when I was too weak to stand. Do you remember, Damien?" An aged man smiled up at him bewildered,
vague in memory but prompted to remembrance by the praise and ap-probation of those around him.
"I remember you with gratitude, one and all, and I have brought you the fruits of my long labor," said the
man in black. "In my travels I have been given riches to help men prolong their sickly lives and restore
health to those of great age. But I bring you not long life alone, or good health alone. I bring both of these
blessings, for who would have the one when he might have both? Who would wish to go on from one year
to the next, ever weaker, ever frailer, while his eyes film over, and his teeth loosen and drop out, and his
back bends like a drawn bow, and the flesh wastes away from his brittle bones, leaving him like a bundle of
dry sticks, chilled by every breeze, scarce able to stand, afraid to walk, failing in memory, bereft of old
friends and youthful desires, a mere reeking bag of pain and illness? Who would wish for such a life?" he
asked, darting an eager glance from one upturned face to an-other. "And yet, what is the good of health
and strength and a sound body to one who may lose them all before the sun sets? Oh, no, my friends, my
old friends, no one can be happy without both." He shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. Then he looked up,
smiled benevolently, and spread his arms wide. "And I have come to bring these blessings to you and your
children. Good health, that makes the poorest man richer than a king! Long life, that makes the rich man
wise and happy!"
He stepped down from his rostrum, allowing his listeners a moment to whisper to one another while he
rearranged the vials on the cloth. Then he ascended once again, cleared his throat, and announced, "I, Gian
of Venezia, was a pupil of the famed Scorrachina, the ancient, the knowing, she who has healed popes and
kings, emperors and sultans. All wise men know her name and her works. For many years, more years
than you would believe, I studied with Scorrachina, learn-ing secrets known to none but the great healer
herself, for in her centuries of life she has traveled the world, seeking that knowledge once possessed by
the an-cients but lost with the burning of Troy and the fall of Rome, lost with the decay of ancient empires
buried under obliterating sands, lost in the flight and scattering of the learned before the barbarians.
Scorrachina sought those secrets...." He paused and leaned for-ward, drawing the crowd to him with his
expectant glances, and at last said, "Unlike all who sought be-fore, she found them."
He stepped down once again, and took a vial of cloudy liquid from where it lay on the black cloth.
Mounting the chest, he raised the vial high for all to see. "Here is the distillation. Here is the secret so long
lost. I bring it to you. And not only do I bring you health and length of days, I bring strength and beauty to
make joyous a long lifetime. Remember Helen, the fabled Helen. Her beauty was such that she drew an
army of kings to fight for her before the walls of Troy, and she was as beautiful at the end of a long life as
she was on the day that the heroes of ancient Greece vied for her hand. Remember the queen of the Nile,
Cleopatra, who bedazzled Caesar himself when she was a young girl and whose beauty, undiminished half a
century later, led Mark Antony to abandon all other loyalties and defy the might of Rome. Whence came
such beauty?" He turned the vial so that it caught the morning light, and said, "I hold the secret in my hand."
He swept the crowd with his glance, beckoned, and lowered his voice, drawing them closer. "Not only
beauty, I said, but strength of mind and body. Remem-ber Odysseus, wiliest and cleverest of men, he who
outwitted the gods themselves and conceived the plan that brought down the walls of Troy, Odysseus, the
great deceiver who was never deceived by mortal man. Remember Achilles, boldest of warriors,
invulnerable save for a single spot of flesh on his heel. He was made proof against all weapons, it is said,
by being dipped into the waters of the river Styx by his mother, the goddess Thetis, and was slain at last
only by a poi-soned arrow from the bow of Hercules himself that stuck him on the unprotected spot. So
goes the legend among those who do not possess the truth. But I tell you, Achilles was not bathed in the
Styx; he was bathed in water in which three drops, three drops only, of this elixir- But who is this?"