Blood and Gold - Anne Rice [127]
But I did not open my doors to the populace as I had done in long ago Rome.
I was too wary to do such a thing in Venice, too unsure of my ruse, too uncertain of what questions my mad painting might arouse.
No, I need only have my young male assistants, I fancied, both to keep me company and to help me, for there was much to be done preparing the walls for my frescoes and covering my panels and canvases with the proper varnishes for my work.
As it turned out, there was not much for anyone to do for some weeks, for during that period I wandered the local workshops and studied the painters of Venice as I had studied the painters of Florence not long before.
There was no doubt in my mind, after this studious examination, that I could mimic mortal work to some extent, but I could not hope to surpass it. And I feared what I would accomplish. And I resolved to keep my house closed to all but the boys and their instructors as arranged.
Taking to my bedroom study, I began a journal of my thoughts, the first I had ever kept since the nights in old Rome.
I wrote of the comforts I enjoyed. And I chastised myself with more clarity than I did in my mind.
“You have become a fool for the love of mortals,” I wrote, far more than you ever did in the ancient nights. For you know you have chosen these boys so that you might instruct them and mold them, and there will be loving in it and hope in it, and the intention of sending them on to be educated at Padua, as though they were your mortal children.
But what if they should come to discover that you are a beast in heart and soul, and they run from your touch, what then? Will you slaughter them in their innocence? This is not ancient Rome with its nameless millions. This is the strict Republic of Venice where you play your games, and for what?
For the color of the evening sky over the piazza that you see when you are first risen, for the domes of the church beneath the moon? For the color of the canals that only you can behold in the starlight? You are a wicked and greedy creature.
Will art satisfy you? You hunt elsewhere, in the surrounding towns and hamlets, or even in distant cities, for you can move with the speed of a god. But you bring evil to Venice because you are evil, and in your fine palazzo, lies are told, lies are lived, lies may fail.
I put down the quill. I read over my words, forever memorizing them, as if they were a foreign voice speaking to me, and only when I’d finished did I look up to see Vincenzo, so polite and humble, and so dignified in his new clothes, waiting to speak to me.
“What is it?” I asked gently so as not to make him think I disapproved of him for coming in.
“Master, only let me tell you . . .” he said. He looked quite elegant in his new velvet, rather like a prince at court.
“Yes, do tell me,” I said.
“It’s only that the boys are so happy. They are all in bed now and sleeping. But do you know what it means to them that they have plenty to eat and decent clothes, and are learning their lessons with a purpose? I could tell you many stories, too many I think. There’s not a dullard among them. It’s such luck.”
I smiled.
“That’s very good, Vincenzo,” I said. “Go have your supper. Enjoy as much wine as you wish.”
I sat in the stillness after he had left me.
It seemed quite impossible that I had made this residence for myself, and that nothing had stopped me. I had hours before dawn during which I might rest on my bed, or read among my new books before making the short journey to another place within the city where a sarcophagus had been hidden in a gold-lined chamber in which I would sleep by day.
But I chose instead to go to the great room which I had designated as my studio, and there I found the pigments and other materials ready for me, including several wooden panels which my young apprentices had