Read Online Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1940 by Twice In Time (v1.1) - Free Book Online
Authors: Twice In Time (v1.1)
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beast is a present from the Magnificent," I
was informed as I mounted.
To the palace we rode and there, while my horse was cared
for by the equerry, I was conducted through a great courtyard to a rich garden
among high hedges of yew, trimmed to a blocky evenness, with nichelike hollows for
stone seats or white statues of Grecian style. There were roses, both on bushes
and climbing briars, flowering shrubs in clumps and ordered rows, a perfectly
round little pool with water lilies—all luxurious and lovely, though perhaps a
bit too formally ordered.
In the center of this, under a striped
awning. lounged Lorenzo and his friends on cushioned
seats of gilded wood and leather.
To
the four other guests I was introduced as Ser Leo. His Magnificence still shied
at pronouncing my barbarous surname. And I bowed to each as his name was
spoken. First there was Lorenzo's younger brother and codespot, Giuliano, the
same cavalier who had ridden with Lorenzo upon me at the moment of Gido's
death. He was one of the handsomest men I have ever seen, even as Lorenzo was
one of the ugliest.
Almost as highly honored was an elderly churchman with a
fine, merry face and plain but rich vestments—Mariotto Arlotta, the
aristocratic abbot, of the woodland monastery of Camaldoli.
His repute, I found, was that his repartee was the
sharpest and readiest in all the state of Tuscany ,
and indeed he jested in a lively, though ecclesiastical, fashion.
Close beside him stood a plump, courteous young man in his
middle twenties, Sandro Botticelli the rising court painter.* Him I found
friendly, though moody.
The last man of the group, and the youngest, was an
adolescent poet, Agnolo Poliziano. Uglier even than Lorenzo, he was wry-necked,
crookedmouthed, beak-nosed and bandylegged .* *
Yet, for all this sorry person and ungrown youth, he was
eloquent and thoroughly educated. From him I was to learn, in after days, much of
what a man must know to shine as cultured in Fifteenth-Century Florence.
•Botticelli's most famous paintings are .those of Giuliano's
sweetheart, Simanetta Vespucci. He was a favorite of Florentine society, and a
loyal friend of the Medicis.
** Poliziano. in later life, was
a tutor to the children of Lorenzo, and remained in the Medici household until
the death of his patron.
"A YOUNG sparkle-wit, friends," Lorenzo told the
others in presenting me. "He was thrown in my way, I nothing doubt, with
the thought that he might assassinate me. Yet am I drawn to
him by the lustrant wisdom of his speech. ‘As well hang for a sheep as
for a Iamb,' he defied me yesterday."
He paused, while the saying went around the delighted
group, from mouth to merry mouth.
"If he is dangerous, yet shall I keep him, as I keep
the lions at the Piazza del Signoria. Guard me, all of
you, from any weapon save his tongue."
Once more he turned to me. "What of that sorcerer
cousin of yours, Guaracco?"
To my own surprise I found myself pleading earnestly and
eloquently for Guaracco. It was as if I had been rehearsed in the task, and
indeed I probably was, by Guarracco himself. Hypnotists, I say again, can do
such things.
In the end Lorenzo smiled, and seemed far less ugly.
"By the mass, I wish my own kinsmen spoke so well on
my behalf," he said to the others. "Ser Leo, your eloquence saved you
yesterday, and today it recommends Guaracco. He is dull, I have thought, but he
knows something of science. I am minded to send for him, for all he is a
wizard."
''Sorcery cannot prevail against pure hearts,"
contributed the Abbot Mariotto, at which all laughed heartily.
The equerry who had conducted me was dispatched to search
for and bring Guaracco. Meanwhile I was served with wine by a bold-eyed maid
servant in tight blue silk, and entreated to join the conversation. It was
turning just then on the subject of a new alliance of the Italian powers
against possible Turkish invasion.
"The threat of the infidel comes at an opportune
time," Lorenzo pointed out.
was informed as I mounted.
To the palace we rode and there, while my horse was cared
for by the equerry, I was conducted through a great courtyard to a rich garden
among high hedges of yew, trimmed to a blocky evenness, with nichelike hollows for
stone seats or white statues of Grecian style. There were roses, both on bushes
and climbing briars, flowering shrubs in clumps and ordered rows, a perfectly
round little pool with water lilies—all luxurious and lovely, though perhaps a
bit too formally ordered.
In the center of this, under a striped
awning. lounged Lorenzo and his friends on cushioned
seats of gilded wood and leather.
To
the four other guests I was introduced as Ser Leo. His Magnificence still shied
at pronouncing my barbarous surname. And I bowed to each as his name was
spoken. First there was Lorenzo's younger brother and codespot, Giuliano, the
same cavalier who had ridden with Lorenzo upon me at the moment of Gido's
death. He was one of the handsomest men I have ever seen, even as Lorenzo was
one of the ugliest.
Almost as highly honored was an elderly churchman with a
fine, merry face and plain but rich vestments—Mariotto Arlotta, the
aristocratic abbot, of the woodland monastery of Camaldoli.
His repute, I found, was that his repartee was the
sharpest and readiest in all the state of Tuscany ,
and indeed he jested in a lively, though ecclesiastical, fashion.
Close beside him stood a plump, courteous young man in his
middle twenties, Sandro Botticelli the rising court painter.* Him I found
friendly, though moody.
The last man of the group, and the youngest, was an
adolescent poet, Agnolo Poliziano. Uglier even than Lorenzo, he was wry-necked,
crookedmouthed, beak-nosed and bandylegged .* *
Yet, for all this sorry person and ungrown youth, he was
eloquent and thoroughly educated. From him I was to learn, in after days, much of
what a man must know to shine as cultured in Fifteenth-Century Florence.
•Botticelli's most famous paintings are .those of Giuliano's
sweetheart, Simanetta Vespucci. He was a favorite of Florentine society, and a
loyal friend of the Medicis.
** Poliziano. in later life, was
a tutor to the children of Lorenzo, and remained in the Medici household until
the death of his patron.
"A YOUNG sparkle-wit, friends," Lorenzo told the
others in presenting me. "He was thrown in my way, I nothing doubt, with
the thought that he might assassinate me. Yet am I drawn to
him by the lustrant wisdom of his speech. ‘As well hang for a sheep as
for a Iamb,' he defied me yesterday."
He paused, while the saying went around the delighted
group, from mouth to merry mouth.
"If he is dangerous, yet shall I keep him, as I keep
the lions at the Piazza del Signoria. Guard me, all of
you, from any weapon save his tongue."
Once more he turned to me. "What of that sorcerer
cousin of yours, Guaracco?"
To my own surprise I found myself pleading earnestly and
eloquently for Guaracco. It was as if I had been rehearsed in the task, and
indeed I probably was, by Guarracco himself. Hypnotists, I say again, can do
such things.
In the end Lorenzo smiled, and seemed far less ugly.
"By the mass, I wish my own kinsmen spoke so well on
my behalf," he said to the others. "Ser Leo, your eloquence saved you
yesterday, and today it recommends Guaracco. He is dull, I have thought, but he
knows something of science. I am minded to send for him, for all he is a
wizard."
''Sorcery cannot prevail against pure hearts,"
contributed the Abbot Mariotto, at which all laughed heartily.
The equerry who had conducted me was dispatched to search
for and bring Guaracco. Meanwhile I was served with wine by a bold-eyed maid
servant in tight blue silk, and entreated to join the conversation. It was
turning just then on the subject of a new alliance of the Italian powers
against possible Turkish invasion.
"The threat of the infidel comes at an opportune
time," Lorenzo pointed out.
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