[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

encountered many such, charmed them and taken them and left them; and she all
alone, with the neighbors at their work and her uncle at his, and old Bianca
deaf as a post and bedbound with the ague, which was why she had gone to
market alone to begin with. Which, in purest honesty, was why she had gone at
all.
She had wanted to go out by herself, to do as she pleased with no eyes to
watch and disapprove.
The consequence tightened his grip on her purchases and raised his brows.
Madonna, he said in his clearest mind- voice, still know what you're thinking.
I assure you by any saint you care to name that
I have no designs on your virtue. If you will let me bear your burdens the
rest of the way, I
promise that I won't even assault you with a longing look.
His eyes held her; she did not see that his lips never moved. To her ears his
Page 69
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
voice was a perfectly ordinary young man's voice, speaking in the Roman
dialect. She smiled at the words, hardly knowing that she did, or that her
eyes had begun to sparkle.
Her voice made a valiant effort to be stern.
"Sir, you are kind, but I can manage. It's only a little way, and the servant
is waiting for me."
Nikki smiled. My name is Nikephoros.
I'm a pilgrim, as you can see; I
lodge with the monks in San Girolamo down in the
Velabro. I've never yet seduced a virgin, let alone raped one; I doubt I'll
begin today.
My looks are against me, I know, but can't you find it in your heart to trust
me? Even a little?
The sparkle was very clear now to see and even to hear.
"You talk exactly the way I was told a young man would before he began his
seduction. As for your looks ..." Her cheeks flushed; she bit her lip and went
on a little too quickly, "My name is
Stefania. Yours is rather unusual. Are you
Greek?"
140 Judith Tarr
He nodded.
"Then why," she demanded with sudden steel, "are you a pilgrim to Rome of all
unlikely places?"
May not even a schismatic Byzantine look on the City of Peter? However
regrettable, he added dryly, may be the delusions of its Bishop.
The blade was not so easily returned to its sheath.
"Your accent is hot Greek."
still grew up in Rhiyana. My teacher was, and is, an Anglian. "Now that," she
said, "is preposterous enough to be true. Say something to me in
Norman."
Nikki choked. Even he could not tell whether it was laughter or horror. He
knew Norman, bastard dialect of the langue d'oeil that it was;
he could read it and write it. He also knew a little
Saxon. He did not know if he had an accent in either, since he had never
spoken a word in any mortal tongue.
She was frowning again. He swallowed and tried his best. Fair lady without
mercy, is it thus you try all who come to your door? "Only strangers who chase
me through it." She softened just visibly, though not with repentance. "Have
pity on me, sir. Here you are, a young man, which is danger enough;
born a Greek, schismatic and noted for craftiness--which I should know, being
half a Greek myself; raised by one of a race of conquerors in a country of
enchanters. Can you wonder that I test you?"
If you put it that way, he admitted, and once more she heard him in Italian,
no. He sank to one knee, bundles and all. Beautiful lady, may
I please come in? My solemn vow on it:
F II preach no heresies, play no tricks, and make no--unwilling-- conquests.
"And cast no spells?"
No spells, he agreed.
She nodded, gracious as a queen. "Very well.
You may come in." the hounds OF god 141
Unappealing though the passage had been, the house proper was very pleasant.
There were two stories to it above the scrivener's shop. "Uncle Gregorios
doesn't sell parchment," she explained. "He sells what's written on it. He's a
public scribe, a notary; he works here when he can, but elsewhere most often,
writing letters and witnessing deeds and the like."
She did not show her guest into the upper story, where were the bedchambers
and a storeroom. Not merely for the danger of letting a man see where she
slept;
Page 70
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Bianca was there, mercifully oblivious to what passed in the room below. That
was a large one with windows on a courtyard, the shutters flung wide in the
warmth. Behind it lay the kitchen in which, at
Stefania's command, Nikki had deposited most of his burdens. In it stood a
table and a chair or two, a bench, a chest and a cabinet, and a high slanted
table such as he had seen in the scriptorium of San Girolamo. A stool was
drawn up to the table; a book lay open on it and a heap of parchment beside
that, folded and ruled and ready to write on. Nikki craned to see. The book to
be copied was Greek. He moved closer.
Greek indeed, marked as verse, and a fine ringing sound to the line or two
that met his eye. "Pindar,"
Stefania said. "A pagan poet, very great my uncle says, and very difficult."
He's copying the book for a client?
"No," she answered almost sharply. "I am."
Nikki smiled his warmest smile. She looked defiant, and surprised. He should
have been dismayed, if not appalled, to have encountered a woman who could
write. More, a woman who could write Greek.
So can I, he pointed out, which makes me a strange animal, too. "You're a man.
You can do as you like.
A learned woman, however," said Stefania with more than a hint of bitterness,
"is an affront to the vast majority of learned manhood."
Of course she is. She's usually so much better at it. Nikki 142 Judith Tarr
perched on the window ledge between Arlecchina and a great fragrant bowl of
herbs, green and growing in the sunlight; he folded his arms and considered
Stefania with distinct pleasure. I'm inured to such blows. My sister is no
mere scholar; she's a philosopher. "No," Stefania said.
Yes, he shot back. She'd be a theologian, too, except that there's not much
call for the Greek variety on this side of the world. Besides which, she likes
to add, there's always room for another natural philosopher; and the world is
alt too full of bickering theologians. Stefania laughed.
"There's a woman after my own heart!" She had put aside her veil and hung up
her cloak.
Her dress was plain to severity, but it was the same
deep blue as her eyes; her body in it was lissome and yet richly curved. She
was very much smaller than himself. When they had stood face to face, her head
came just above his chin. Even little Anna was taller than that. Yet how tall
she stood in the plain comfortable room, her feet firm on the woven mat, her
dress glowing against the whitewashed wall. There was no doubt of it, she was
perfectly to his taste. In the silence under his steady stare, her assurance
wavered.
She moved a little too quickly, spoke in a rush.
"Would you like a cup of wine? It's very good. One of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]