The Colour of Heaven. James Runcie

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СКАЧАТЬ but he is not always reliable …’

      ‘We must go to him now,’ said Teresa, pulling Paolo away, ‘before your father realises, before anyone knows that you cannot see …’

      ‘I can see.’

      ‘Not well enough. Marco will be able to tell. We must prevent him knowing of this.’ She called to the pedlar. ‘Goodbye.’

      They crossed three streets and made their way to the jewellers’ quarter. Paolo found the busy alleys more frightening than the objects in the shop. He seemed to be permanently in the way of another person, someone with more pressing business. Crowds pushed past. Horses reared up in front of him. The streets stank of excrement. He longed to be home.

      Luciano the apothecary worked in a shop crammed with hanging herbs, pottery jars of powders, liquids, and unguents. He sat behind a curtain of bright flame and bubbling amber liquid. A great mortar with a heavy pestle hung from the ceiling, and majolica jars lined the room, holding saffron, pepper, ginger, cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, cassia, and galinga. Every object in the shop appeared to be black, silver, white, or gold; as if this spectrum of colour held a symbolic secret that only the apothecary could fathom. As soon as they entered his laboratory Luciano began to talk of a new alchemical invention which was nothing less than a recipe for everlasting life. It involved mixing the scales of a fish with powdered gold and the eyelid of a snake, and he was convinced of its efficacy.

      Teresa interrupted. ‘My son cannot see.’

      The apothecary put down his tools. ‘He is blind?’

      ‘No, but he cannot tell distance.’

      ‘That is common enough.’

      ‘It may be so, but then he cannot work at my husband’s craft.’

      Luciano turned to the child. His eyes were sunk deep in his head, as if he himself had trouble with sight. Now he came close, looking hard at Paolo.

      ‘How old are you?’

      ‘I am twelve.’

      ‘Is the light too bright for you?’

      ‘Not here, no.’

      ‘Where? When?’

      ‘In the heat of the day. The brightness …’

      ‘Is it too strong?’

      ‘Sometimes it hurts my eyes.’

      ‘I understand. Come. Stand in the doorway.’ The apothecary put his arm around Paolo’s shoulder.

      ‘Look out into the street now. What do you see?’

      ‘I see shape, not detail. Colour, not form.’

      ‘You live, perhaps, in a clouded world?’

      ‘Sometimes I cannot see the clouds. People tell me they are there, or that a storm is coming, but I am unable to perceive such things. Such forms are like sheets of white across the sky, darkening slowly and then becoming black. I see them move but they are as mists.’

      The apothecary told Paolo that sight was a dance of two rays, perpetually changing, between perception and object. The eye was filled with seeing and the object was luminous with colour. Paolo’s problem was that his eyes lacked sufficient power.

      ‘Do you eat many onions?’ Luciano asked suddenly.

      ‘No,’ replied Paolo.

      ‘Of course you eat onions,’ said Teresa.

      ‘Yes, but I don’t like them.’

      ‘Falconers find their sight improves if they forgo onions. Have you tried balms and ointments?’

      Paolo knew nothing of such things. He was silent. Teresa attempted to explain.

      ‘He has sought no cure. The lack of sight is new to him.’

      The apothecary sighed, leaned forward, and held up a candle.

      ‘Come here, my child. Look into this light.’

      It was held so close and became so bright that Paolo flinched. Luciano came as near as possible, and looked hard into each eye. His breath smelled of tomatoes.

      ‘Let me think,’ he said.

      ‘Surely we need a balm,’ said Teresa, ‘a potion, a tincture, or an ointment? Something we can put on his eyes to make them well.’

      Luciano confessed that there were such treatments but he had still to be convinced of their efficacy. He had heard how celandine, fennel, endive, betany, and rue could all help restore eyesight; as well as pimpernel, ewe’s milk, red snails, hog’s grease, and the powdered head of a bat. Some recommended the application of leeches to the eyelids, and he had learned that a doctor in Padua had recently suggested that those with weaknesses of the optic spirit might gain comfort from hanging the eyes of a cow round their neck. He had studied recipes that involved the venom of toads, the slaver of a mad dog, wolfsbane, aconite tubers, and the burned skin of a tarantula.

      After some thought he suggested that he try a balm he had made from mixing eyebright with white wine, distilled until it was ready to drink. Two handfuls of herbs were mixed with hog’s grease and beaten with a pestle and mortar. This thick ointment had been left in the sun for three days, boiled, strained, and pressed three times before it was ready to coat the eyes.

      Teresa smeared the balm gently over Paolo’s eyelids, but it only closed his world still further.

      ‘You must apply it thickly,’ advised the apothecary.

      Paolo reached out and took a scoop of the lard-like salve. It was dense and greasy, and it made his eyes feel heavy with sleep.

      ‘Now rest,’ he heard the man say. ‘Rest for two hours.’

      Paolo lay down in the darkness. Was this what it might be like to be blind? What would it mean to live in such blackness for ever, never seeing his mother again, reliant on memory alone? He wanted to reach out, cling to her, and then let her wash the darkness away.

      ‘Keep still,’ Luciano commanded.

      Teresa had begun to pray.

      When the time had passed, the apothecary wiped off the paste and asked Paolo what he saw.

      ‘Strange shapes, which I cannot trust. Not lines; only close objects have an outline. Everything else is blurred.’

      ‘Has your sight improved?’ Teresa asked.

      Paolo desperately wanted to please his mother but found that he could not. He shook his head.

      ‘But what of colour? You see colour clearly?’ Luciano asked.

      ‘Close, yes. I know colour.’

      ‘You find it restful?’

      ‘Sometimes.’

      ‘And СКАЧАТЬ