"Rudy Rucker - Hieronymus Bosch's Apprentice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rucker Rudy)

“This is more than bickering,” said Vladeracken angrily. “It’s an attack on my mortal soul.”

Aleid said nothing, only shook her head. And for his part, Bosch mutely peered at Vladeracken and
made making painting motions with his hand, as if he were depicting his neighbor upon an invisible panel
in the air.

“Tell me the story,” said Jayjay.

“No one cares but the ill-begotten dwarf,” said Vladeracken. “Here’s the tale, little man. I issued Jeroen
the commission to paint John the Baptist for our brotherhood’s altarpiece in the cathedral. Therefore it
was my right to have myself depicted in the panel as the donor. Settled and done. My image lives in the
Lord’s house. God notices these kinds of things. It will be an incalculable benefit for me when I’m
judged. Do you follow me, runt?

“Yes, yes,” said Jayjay, not liking the insults.

“You’re impatient with Jan too, eh? Well, listen to the twist. Victor van der Moelen, that walking piece of
shit who’s the new treasurer of the Swan Brotherhood—he says that I had no right to appear on the
panel as the donor. For the painting was bought with the society’s funds, not mine. I’m perfectly willing to
reimburse the Brotherhood, but van der Moelen says that won’t do. And now—”

Bosch twinkled and made rapid motions with his imaginary brush, as if erasing the imaginary portrait he’d
just drawn.



“If you paint over me, I’ll have your hide, Jeroen,” bellowed Vladeracken. “I’ll send my pigs into your
garden. I’ll bring bagpipers to your steps every day. I’ll denounce you to the priests for saying
everything’s alive!”

“You have to go rest now, Jan,” said Aleid, getting to her feet. “You don’t want to miss the vigil tonight.”
Her chilly gaze skewered the meaty Vladeracken. “Go home to your wife.”

“Forgive me,” said Vladeracken, suddenly remembering himself. “My humors are addled. The hot sun in
the marketplace. Surely you understand.”

“Out now,” said Aleid.
The bully shuffled to the front door and left.

“I could paint over his image for you,” suggested Jayjay to Jeroen.

“Exactly,” said Bosch. “That’s what I’ve spent the afternoon training you to do. Bury the pig-man with
writhing vines. You’ll do it tonight, Jayjay, so that the painting is renewed for the Virgin’s processional
mass tomorrow. I’ll be at the Swan Brotherhood building most of the night—our vigil starts the hour
before midnight and runs till dawn. This way, nobody can think the overpainter was me. Perhaps the
emendation will be viewed as a miracle. The hand of the Virgin herself.”

“What a wonderful idea,” said Aleid in a pleasant tone, humoring Jeroen. “But where’s your wife,
Jayjay? Our fish stew is ready.”