Page 314 - The Grotesque Children's Book
P. 314
Chapter 45.
I will tend my own brushes
Early July, 1581
There was always a moment late in the afternoon, just after the sun had set and evening
was lurking, when painting must stop and cleansing must begin. The brushes, the brushes. You
couldn’t leave them uncleansed overnight as they would be ruined in the morning. So they must
be cleaned now, after there was no longer enough light by which to paint, and before there was
no longer enough light by which to descend the stairs and find your way out of the building.
This is an exaggeration, of course, for there were a few pottery oil lamps affixed to the walls so
you could see to go out of the building, but there was not sufficient light to clean brushes. There
was a bit of a gamble at the end of each working day, then. Linger too long on the final
brushstrokes of the day and you’d not have enough time for the rinsing and scrubbing of the
brushes.
So it was odd for Allesandro Allori to ask Santi to speak with him privately, now, now
please, at the end of the day, at the end of the hallway, apart from the other painters.
“I have brushes to clean,” protested Santi when Allori had asked for the private
conversation.
“I’ll bring you new brushes in the morning,” said Allori. “I need to speak with you
immediately.”
It wasn’t the offer of new brushes which had compelled Santi to stop his cleaning for the
night. It was the terrible, frightened look in Allori’s eyes. He must have news about my father,
thought Santi, as he put down his brushes and followed Allori to the far end of the hallway.
“Is he all right?” Santi asked.
“Who?”
“My father.”
“He isn’t. He’s ill. You told me so yourself.”
“I thought you had news of my father.”
“No. Why would anyone tell me about your father?”
“Maybe because you’re my employer. I just thought --”
Allori put a sincere hand onto Santi’s right shoulder. “I don’t think of myself as your
employer, Santi. I think of us as equals, though I have a few more years on you.”
“Oh I don’t know that we’ll ever be equals,” protested Santi. “You’ve so much
experience, and --”
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