Читать книгу In The Lion's Sign - Stefano Vignaroli, Stefano Vignaroli - Страница 13

 CHAPTER 8

Bernardino went out in front of his store with a copy of his last work in his hand. He wanted to see it in daylight, to see how the colour illustrations had come. With that illustrated edition of the Divine Comedy he had surpassed not only his predecessor Federico Conti, but also himself. Bernardino had taken up the Florentine edition of the poem of the great poet Dante Alighieri. He knew that in the year of the Lord 1481, Lorenzo Pierfrancesco De’ Medici had commissioned Sandro Botticelli to create one hundred plates illustrating scenes from the poem. Of these one hundred, Botticelli had made only nineteen, which had been engraved on plates, in order to be printed, by the engraver Baccio Baldini. Since the work was not completed by Sandro Botticelli, the Florentine edition, which had a white space at the beginning of each song, was eventually marketed without images. The dream of being able to realize a princely edition of the Divine Comedy, with all the illustrations printed in colour, had been cultivated by Bernardino for years and years. He had managed to have the missing plates drawn, in the same style as Botticelli, by some Benedictine monks of the Abbey of St. Urbano, in the country of Apiro. But the real master’s touch, which had allowed him to see his dream come true, was that of having had some of his trusted collaborators trace the engravings by the Florentine Baccio Baldini. The latter had been given for dead in Florence in 1487, at the age of fifty-one. Another thirty-five years had passed and, therefore, if he had been alive, he would have been over eighty years old. A rare, but not impossible thing, Bernardino had always said. And in fact, it was known that his workshop continued to produce very fine engraving work on gold and copper, which could not have been the work of his young students. Behind it was his hand, which continued to work in the shadows. Why he wanted to be believed dead, even if the hypotheses were very much, no one knew for sure. Someone said that he wanted to escape the creditors to whom he owed exorbitant sums. Others said that he feared Botticelli’s wrath, because he had not met his expectations in making the engravings of the plates with which some of his works were to be printed to decorate the poem by Dante Alighieri. The fact is that the nineteen plates produced at the time had remained in the engraver’s workshop and had not been printed. Not only that, but they were no longer claimed by the Medici who had commissioned them, nor by Botticelli, who had conceived the drawings.

Paolo and Valentino, two faithful workers of Bernardino, had gone to Florence and had identified the engraver’s workshop. Not even a shadow of him. Perhaps a few years ago he had really died and his students had in fact managed to refine their workshop techniques until they reached and surpassed the art of their master. It was not an easy task for Paolo and Valentino, but in the end the offer in money made Baccio’s students capitulate, who gave up the engravings of Botticelli’s works for a sum of three thousand gold florins. Much more than they were actually worth, but Bernardino was convinced that he would certainly recover the sum with interest if he managed to print his Divine Comedy. The friars had made not only the missing illustrations, but also the engravings of the same on copper plates, which Bernardino would then bring back on lead plates, more suitable for printing. Using coloured inks for the illustrations was not new, but it involved long and repetitive steps to obtain a good result. Besides black, Bernardino had used red, blue and yellow. No more than four colours, it had been said, otherwise he would not come up with them.

He browsed with satisfaction page by page, appreciated each of the hundred illustrations, smelled the smell of printed paper, felt the leather cover with his fingertips following with his fingers the engravings of the title, letter by letter, D, I, V, and so on. He finally raised his eyes to the blue, clear, cloudless sky of the early afternoon of a day at the end of March. He admired the swallows that were already circling in the air, animating it with their garrisons. He was tired, he felt tired. He wanted to be one of those swallows to see the world from a different perspective, from above, flying like them and swooping down on everything that attracted his attention. But he understood, from the heaviness of his legs, that age was getting more and more felt every day. At great stride he was about to reach sixty, and they were not few, especially for someone who had always worked like him. He had the feeling of a void in his chest, his heart taking a dive like when you feel a sudden fear. A few missed beats, a few coughs, and the heart resumed at an accelerated pace, only to be quieted down in a few moments. It was an unwelcome sensation, but to which Bernardino had been getting used for some time. Once the sight was in focus again, a few steps away from him, the noble Lucia Baldeschi materialized.

«Bernardino! How pale you are! What happens?»

«Oh, nothing serious, Lady Lucia. Palpitations. Every now and then my heart aches, but I’ve learned that by imposing upon myself to make a few strong coughs, it resumes its regular rhythm.»

«Nothing serious, you say? You are of a certain age, and you shouldn’t underestimate the signals your heart sends to you, or these palpitations, as you call them, will take you straight to your grave. And it would be an eventuality I couldn’t like so much. Take it!», and she extended to him a small dark glass bottle, containing some liquid. «When you feel these disturbances, put a couple of drops in your mouth. But do not swallow them, hold them under your tongue for a long time and they will restore your heart to a normal rhythm and contraction force. If your tachycardia – that’s what we call your disorder in medical terms - should worsen, every night before going to bed, take a drop of this elixir and hold it under your tongue as I told you before. In doing so, you will be preserved from new attacks, which may sooner or later prove fatal.»

«My Lady, do you wish to strike fear into me? I know that I am old, I know that the accident that occurred to me during the fire in my print shop didn’t leave me unscathed, I know that I also have some pains due to the fact I have been working with lead for years, but from here I want to believe that I am one step away from the grave...»

«I don’t say this, Bernardino. I only say you must take care of yourself. You know very well how much I care about you and your friendship. And in fact that is why I am here. I wanted to tell you I’ll go to Apiro the next few days, and so I came by to say you goodbye.»

The printer stuck his eyes into the noblewoman’s hazel eyes. He admired her beauty, he admired how, from the girl she was, in a short time she had become a mature woman, even more beautiful and pleasant. Wrapped in her gamurra in shades of blue, tightened at the waist by an elegant leather belt, the generous neckline that showed off the curve of her breasts, Lucia was breathtakingly beautiful. Her long black hair was gathered behind the back of her neck in a braid, while her forehead was surrounded by a simple leather lace, embellished on the front by a precious stone of the same blue colour as the dress she was wearing. Bernardino, who had never wanted to tie himself to any woman in his life, understood that the only one with whom he had fallen in love, with whom he had managed to share his passion for the arts, poetry and literature, was at that moment a step away from him, but was completely unreachable. Not only would he never make love to her, but he would never even get a kiss or a caress from her. He had to make do with her looks, her smiles, her words. And it was already a lot. For the rest, he could only dream of her.

«Lady, why go to Apiro? There is no one left to bind you to those places. They are places damned by God, populated by demons and servants of the devil, witches and sorcerers. You are a noblewoman, why do you want to be mistaken for a healer or, worse, a witch?»

«Oh, come on, Bernardino! What are these talks? Did it hurt you to work with the Friars of St. Urban’s Abbey? They too are from Apiro, and yet they have served you well for your work. To prepare infusions and medicines like the one I have given you now, I need to collect medicinal plants. And in Apiro, especially in the area of Colle del Giogo, I can collect many of them and of excellent quality. And then this is the best season to collect them. I will also take advantage of the flowering Crocus to get the precious stigmas and I will also find many good asparagine shoots. So I’ll also be able to supply my kitchens. I’ll stay away for a few days and return refreshed in body and soul. The winter was long and I spent it in anguish for not having any news about Andrea. Now I need to distract myself a bit, and do it my way. By the way, I would also like to visit Germano degli Ottoni, the regent of the Community of Apiro.»

«I see that my advice is like words thrown to the wind. Give me an ear at least in this: let me know you’ll be accompanied by a trustworthy escort! In addition, at this point, since you are going to go to the town of Apiro, I want to ask you a small favour», and he put into Lucia’s hands the precious book that she had been admiring until just now. «This is the first copy I printed of the Divine Comedy containing the illustrations made by the friars of St. Urbano. Stop by the Abbey and give the book to the Guardian Father, greeting him and thanking him on my part. I believe he will be very happy to see this work finally completed, and to keep a copy of it in the library of the Convent.»

«Are you sure you want to part with it? It seems to me it’s the only copy you have printed so far!»

«I have verified the quality and I have everything ready to print hundreds and hundreds of copies. I believe right this first copy should be delivered to the community of friars who have worked so hard to make it.»

«Well, Bernardino, if it’s your will, I’ll be happy to carry out this mission on your behalf.»

Lucia almost made the tome disappear by putting it under her arm. Then she approached the printer with delicacy, touching one cheek with her lips, like a greeting. Bernardino pretended nothing, but his heart was in turmoil. As he watched her go, he abandoned himself sitting on a wooden bench, near the entrance to the store. He put his hand in his pocket and squeezed the bottle that Lucia had given him. But he didn’t have time to put a few drops of the medicine in his mouth, because he collapsed earlier. He panting, looking for air, his eyelids lowered. He felt that his heart was no longer beating, it was still. He slipped off the bench, until he reached the ground, then everything around him went dark. When he opened his eyes again he saw Valentino above him, holding his nose with his fingers and pushing his breath hard into his mouth. He beckoned him to stop, finding the strength to carry the bottle he was still holding in his hand to his mouth. He managed to pour a few drops, holding it under his tongue. In a few moments he felt a strange heat pervade him, regained his strength, retreated to his feet, refusing the help of Valentino who was holding his hand, and went back inside the store.

«Paolo! Valentino! Prepare the machines. We are going to press!»