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

He paused at sight of the ragged boy who had squirmed through the press to fall prostrate before him.
Unable to rise, the boy reached out with one hand, the other being twisted and drawn close to his breast,
and cried out, "Gian of Venezia, help me! I beg you, heal me!"
He fell to his knees beside the boy, raised him up tenderly, and said, "Who are you? What do you ask of
me?"
In faltering tones, which nevertheless carried well into the crowd, the boy told his tale. Ridden down and
left to die in the road, he had recovered only to live as a cripple, his left side withered and paralyzed. He
had heard of the healer and his wonderful potions, and followed him from town to town in pursuit, but
always arrived too late. He clutched Gian's cloak with his good hand and said, "You are my only hope! I
was told of the wonders you performed in Cairo, and how you healed the bishop of Milan. I vowed to
follow you even across the world."
Gian looked down on the boy, then up at the circle of anxious faces that surrounded them. His eyes filled
with tears. "It is true, I have been privileged to help some at Cairo and in Milan and elsewhere in the world.
But, my boy, I am only an agent. I have no power of my own. I dare not promise you a cure. It is the elixir
that heals, and the elixir is potent and dan-gerous. Scorrachina herself said, 'I will cure all ill, if it be God's
will.' Some will be cured, but some will be lost. The elixir can harm as well as heal."
"How can the wondrous elixir harm me?" the boy asked.
"It is meant for the young." Gian turned to the onlookers and extended his hands, as if in appeal, as he
explained, "One drop each day, for three consecutive days, on the tongue of a girl just one year old, and
she will grow up to be as beautiful and as pure as an angel. Wash a boy of the same age for three
consecutive days in water containing a single drop of the elixir, and he will become a man immune to
weapons and illness. But for adults, the effects are different. For a grown man or woman, the elixir is a
grave danger. I myself would refuse to take it even at the point of death, for I am no longer young. No
indeed, my good people. On St. Stephen's day I will be fifty-nine years old."
There were murmurs and some shouts of disbelief. The man in black had not a white hair on his head or
in his neatly trimmed beard, and his face was unlined. He did not look to be half the age he claimed.
"I see that some of you do not believe me. Very well," he said with a careless shrug. "I assure you, my
friends, there are other potions than the elixir, and I know them well. But it is not yet time to speak of such
things. No, the elixir might have a terrible effect on any but an infant. If I gave it to this poor boy, I might
endanger his life."
The boy reached out, imploring. "I accept the dan-ger. Only help me."
Gian looked about him. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. In an agonized voice, he cried, "What
shall I do?"
"Give him the elixir!" A man shouted. Others quickly picked up the cry, which grew to an uproar,
drowning out the few dissenting voices.
"Very well," said Gian when the outcry had sub-sided. "And if it be that the lad must die, let us pray that
his suffering has brought him close to God. May his death be as sweet as a saint's passing, with fra-grance
and light, and peace of body and soul, and a vision of the Heavenly City." Gian bowed his head and knelt
with clasped hands in a silent show of piety.
Rising and crossing himself, he removed his cloak and laid it over the boy. This done, he climbed on the
chest. Raising his hands above his head, he said in a resounding voice, "Pray with me! As I was once a
 poor helpless boy in this very city, so this boy comes to me for help, and I must give it, whatever my fears
and misgivings! You will have it so!"
The crowd cheered and shouted "We will, we will!" and "Cure him!" and other words of encouragement
as he descended to kneel at the boy's side. Taking the vial from his jacket, he raised the cripple's head and
al-lowed a single drop to fall on his tongue; then he laid the boy's head back and drew the cloak close
around him.
For a moment nothing happened. The crowd pressed closer, watching in silence. The boy lay motionless
as stone. Then he drew a deep breath, loudly and hoarsely. He moaned and began to shake his head from side to
side. His body shook convulsively, he cried out, and then he was still. Gian knelt over him, holding tightly to the