Time Travelers Never Die - Jack McDevitt [36]
Dave was impressed. “Very good,” he said.
THE door was opened by a cautious-looking elderly servant. “Yes?” he said. “May I help you?”
“I hope so.” Dave took the lead. “This gentleman is Adrian Shelborne, and I’m David Dryden. We’re admirers of Professore Galilei. We’d like very much to speak with him about his discoveries, if we may.”
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but the professor does not presently receive visitors.”
“We have authorization.”
Dave was about to present the Cardinal’s letter when he heard a male voice inside: “Who is it, Geppo?”
“Sir, there are two persons who identify themselves as admirers of the professor. They would like to see him.”
A new face appeared at the door. A small man, probably in his thirties, literally dwarfed by Dave. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But he’s quite busy.”
“Are you Vincenzo?” asked Shel. Judging from Dave’s expression, he must have butchered the pronunciation.
The man looked annoyed.
“He’s German,” Dave explained. “His Italian still needs work. But we are speaking to . . . ?”
“Vincenzo. Yes, I caught my name.” He made no effort to hide his contempt, either for his visitors or for Germans.
“We’ve heard much about you,” said Dave.
“That you are very like your father,” added Shel.
Vincenzo didn’t quite know how to receive that. His father, after all, was generally perceived as a heretic and a disturber of the peace.
Dave decided to cut the conversation short before Shel got in over his head. He signaled Shel to produce the letter, which he handed to Vincenzo. “We applied to Cardinal Bellarmine,” he explained. “He said he wishes us to be admitted to the professor’s presence. We are experts in planetary motions.”
“I see.” Vincenzo squinted at the letter, moving his lips while he read. Then he signaled Geppo, and they both stood aside. “He isn’t well, and it would be most advisable if you make your visit brief.”
“Of course.”
The interior wasn’t particularly congenial. The furniture looked stiff and uncomfortable. The floor was brick, and the ceilings were vaulted. “Have a seat, please,” he said. “Geppo, advise the master.”
“Yes, sir.” The servant disappeared into a passageway. Dave heard a brief conversation in back. Then Geppo returned. “Sir, your father says he will be out in a moment.”
“Very good.” Vincenzo turned to the visitors, who were still on their feet. “Please make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.”
They sat down. The place desperately needed air-conditioning.
Shel remarked what a lovely town Arcetri was.
Vincenzo agreed. “Sometimes, when you live here, you forget how very pleasing it can be.” He crossed one leg over the other. “Would you like some refreshment?”
Dave had a brief flash of what might happen to him and Shel if they had a bit too much to drink. Maybe they’d make for Cardinal Bellarmine and tell him flat out what they thought of the Inquisition.
“But of course,” said Shel.
Geppo produced a flask and filled three glasses. Dave tried it cautiously, not sure about homemade wine. But it was quite good.
They heard more movement in the back of the house. Then a door closed. Geppo made no move to go to his master’s assistance, which suggested Galileo did not want help.
The great man’s breathing became audible, and they heard the thunk of a cane or crutch. Vincenzo glanced at his visitors and shook his head. He was obviously not impressed by his father. Finally, a large man with shriveled skin limped into the room. He was virtually blind, and on crutches. But he found his way directly to an armchair that must have been reserved for him and collapsed into it. His hair had retreated, leaving a domed skull, and his beard showed streaks of white. “Father,” said Vincenzo, “Mr. Shelborne and Mr. Dryden are here to see you. They have approval from the Cardinal.”
Galileo took a deep, rasping breath. “I am told you are interested in the motions of the planets.” He wasn’t sure precisely where his guests were seated, so he raised his head and spoke to the room at large. “I’m glad someone in this dark country