have promised that Jacopo and I will travel to the ends of the earth in search of a colour we do not know exists and return within a year?’
‘Or two. It doesn’t matter too much as long as you do, indeed, return.’
‘And what if I say no?’
‘You won’t. You love me. You love colour. It will make your fortune. And then, in paint, we will enter time itself. The blue will let us penetrate the mystery and understand the nature of God’s creation, our infinite and eternal future. By seeing this perfect blue we will be given a glimpse of everlasting life.’
‘But what if Jacopo will not take me?’
‘He will. You will be his Sabbath Gentile.’
‘And what is that?’
‘I can never remember how it works. You carry things on holy days because they can’t. Something like that. So Saturdays are busy. He is coming to eat with us this evening.’
‘But how will I live?’
‘I will give you some money. And then you must do what the verixelli do. Take our glass and trade it as stone. A few real sapphires amidst the glass and you could do well.’ Simone appeared to have thought of everything.
‘I would have to lie.’
‘You have already learned to lie about your sight. It would not be such a big untruth; all merchants exaggerate the worth of their wares.’
‘And if I fail?’
‘You won’t fail. I have seen how obsessed you can be. Think what such a discovery might mean. You wanted excitement in your life. I have given it to you. How else were we supposed to win the commission?’
That night, a small Jewish man arrived at the workshop. He must have been fifty years old, for his beard had greyed, and his back had already begun to show the stoop of age. A yellow circle was fixed to his hat.
‘Jacopo,’ cried Simone, ‘my friend. The man who knows the way.’
‘I am foolish coming here,’ the old man murmured, ‘and I do so only as a favour to your uncle.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Simone, ‘it is you who are being given the blessing.’
‘I have heard that you have a boy who might help me on my travels. Is this the one?’
Simone nodded.
Jacopo looked at Paolo as if he were buying a slave in the market, assessing his size, weight, and strength. ‘I am told that you have a keen eye.’
‘I can tell stone for stone and glass for glass.’
‘Then let us begin.’
‘Already?’ asked Paolo.
‘Why not?’ Jacopo reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch from which he removed four stones. ‘Three of these are false: glass. One is true. Tell me which is which.’
Paolo started with a sapphire.
‘This is not real.’
‘And how would you know?’
‘It is too clear. A sapphire is like the darkest sea …’
‘Go on …’
‘Held up to the light, it changes. The flaws refract. This stone is too good. It needs imperfections, uncertainty. If you mean to deceive, a glass should have a flaw.’
‘When did you last see a sapphire?’ Jacopo asked.
‘When I was a child. My mother had a ring.’
‘You can remember?’
‘I know the blue of stone and the blue of glass.’
Now Paolo held a ruby up to the light. He brought it close to his eye and then moved it away again, at a distance.
‘Like blood,’ he said.
‘What kind of blood?’
‘New sprung.’
‘The great Tartar Emperor once said that he would give a whole city for such a stone.’
‘Why?’ asked Simone.
‘Perhaps he had too much poison in his bones, or too much grief.’
‘Rubies can cure such things?’ asked Simone.
‘Jewels have strange powers,’ Jacopo argued. ‘They say that coral tied to the neck drives away troublesome dreams and the nightly fears of children, and that creeping things fly from the scent of jet.’
‘How reassuring.’
Paolo looked once more at the ruby, close against his eye. ‘This is the true stone.’
‘You are correct,’ said Jacopo, momentarily impressed.
Simone beamed with pride. ‘I told you he would be of benefit to you.’
Jacopo was still
‘Or two. It doesn’t matter too much as long as you do, indeed, return.’
‘And what if I say no?’
‘You won’t. You love me. You love colour. It will make your fortune. And then, in paint, we will enter time itself. The blue will let us penetrate the mystery and understand the nature of God’s creation, our infinite and eternal future. By seeing this perfect blue we will be given a glimpse of everlasting life.’
‘But what if Jacopo will not take me?’
‘He will. You will be his Sabbath Gentile.’
‘And what is that?’
‘I can never remember how it works. You carry things on holy days because they can’t. Something like that. So Saturdays are busy. He is coming to eat with us this evening.’
‘But how will I live?’
‘I will give you some money. And then you must do what the verixelli do. Take our glass and trade it as stone. A few real sapphires amidst the glass and you could do well.’ Simone appeared to have thought of everything.
‘I would have to lie.’
‘You have already learned to lie about your sight. It would not be such a big untruth; all merchants exaggerate the worth of their wares.’
‘And if I fail?’
‘You won’t fail. I have seen how obsessed you can be. Think what such a discovery might mean. You wanted excitement in your life. I have given it to you. How else were we supposed to win the commission?’
That night, a small Jewish man arrived at the workshop. He must have been fifty years old, for his beard had greyed, and his back had already begun to show the stoop of age. A yellow circle was fixed to his hat.
‘Jacopo,’ cried Simone, ‘my friend. The man who knows the way.’
‘I am foolish coming here,’ the old man murmured, ‘and I do so only as a favour to your uncle.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Simone, ‘it is you who are being given the blessing.’
‘I have heard that you have a boy who might help me on my travels. Is this the one?’
Simone nodded.
Jacopo looked at Paolo as if he were buying a slave in the market, assessing his size, weight, and strength. ‘I am told that you have a keen eye.’
‘I can tell stone for stone and glass for glass.’
‘Then let us begin.’
‘Already?’ asked Paolo.
‘Why not?’ Jacopo reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch from which he removed four stones. ‘Three of these are false: glass. One is true. Tell me which is which.’
Paolo started with a sapphire.
‘This is not real.’
‘And how would you know?’
‘It is too clear. A sapphire is like the darkest sea …’
‘Go on …’
‘Held up to the light, it changes. The flaws refract. This stone is too good. It needs imperfections, uncertainty. If you mean to deceive, a glass should have a flaw.’
‘When did you last see a sapphire?’ Jacopo asked.
‘When I was a child. My mother had a ring.’
‘You can remember?’
‘I know the blue of stone and the blue of glass.’
Now Paolo held a ruby up to the light. He brought it close to his eye and then moved it away again, at a distance.
‘Like blood,’ he said.
‘What kind of blood?’
‘New sprung.’
‘The great Tartar Emperor once said that he would give a whole city for such a stone.’
‘Why?’ asked Simone.
‘Perhaps he had too much poison in his bones, or too much grief.’
‘Rubies can cure such things?’ asked Simone.
‘Jewels have strange powers,’ Jacopo argued. ‘They say that coral tied to the neck drives away troublesome dreams and the nightly fears of children, and that creeping things fly from the scent of jet.’
‘How reassuring.’
Paolo looked once more at the ruby, close against his eye. ‘This is the true stone.’
‘You are correct,’ said Jacopo, momentarily impressed.
Simone beamed with pride. ‘I told you he would be of benefit to you.’
Jacopo was still
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