"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - St Germain 2 - The Palace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

doing."
Giuseppe nodded vigorously. "It is well enough for us of the Arte to touch
cheeks, but not with one of his station."
But for Gasparo, at that moment if the foreigner in black with the unfathomable
eyes had asked him to dig foundations from Fiorenza to Roma, he would have done
it without question. There was no mockery in that handsome face, no insult in his
conduct.
"Eccellenza…" he began, then faltered.
"Amico, I have been a prince, and I have been a beggar. I do not scorn you
because you work with your hands. If you did not build, then all of Fiorenza would
still live in tents, as it did when the Romans first built their camp here."
Gasparo nodded eagerly. "As you say, Patron."
"Work well, then, my builders. You will all have proof of my gratitude." He
managed to include them all in the sweep of his arm. Then he turned, ran two or
three steps, and vaulted upward toward the edge of the pit, swung on his arms,
landed cleanly but for a clod dislodged by the heel of one boot.
Lodovico made a low whistle, and Enrico blinked. Carlo and Giuseppe busied
themselves with emptying their sacks. Only Gasparo smiled, and he smiled hugely.
From above them Ragoczy called down, "I am going to add to your woes, I am
afraid." He gestured to someone or something out of sight. In a moment another
man stood beside him. "This is Joacim Branco. He will be my lieutenant during the
building. You are to follow his instructions to the very limit. I will be satisfied with
nothing less than the best of what you are capable. I know your skill to be great. I
know you will succeed."
The newcomer beside Ragoczy was amazingly tall, even by Fiorenzan standards.
He had long, lean hands, a narrow body and a face like the spine of a book. He wore
a rather old-fashioned houppe-lande in the Burgundian fashion and his unconfined
hair drifted around his face like cobwebs. "Good afternoon, builders," he said in a
voice so solemn that it tolled like the bell of San Marco.
"Another foreign alchemist," Lodovico said to Gasparo, just loud enough to be
certain Joacim Branco could hear.
"That is correct," Ragoczy agreed, and smiled. "His skill is formidable. You will
do well to obey him implicitly." Suddenly he laughed. "Come, you need not worry
that he will disgrace you with ridiculous demands. Magister Branco is a reasonable
man, much more reasonable than I am, I promise you."
Magister Joacim Branco achieved a sour smile. He bowed very slightly, very
stiffly.
Enrico rolled his eyes heavenward and silently asked Santa Chiara what he had
ever done to deserve this. "Welcome, Magister," he managed to say.
Ragoczy murmured something to the tall Portuguese at his side; then he
addressed the men in the pit one last time. "There is special earth to be laid with the
foundation. That you will do tomorrow. Today it is enough that you make the gravel
even in preparation."
This time Gasparo's voice had real distress in it. "But, Patron, if it rains, we
cannot lay a foundation. It will be ruined. It will not bear the weight of the building. It
will crack…"
"I give you my word that there will be no rain tonight, or tomorrow, or tomorrow
night. There will be enough time for you to set the foundation and to install the four
corner pieces. After that, it will not matter if it rains; the foundation will be solid and
you may make yourselves a shelter with the corner pieces." With an expansive