Page 363 - The Grotesque Children's Book

Chapter 61.

This is what comes of having no appreciation

Dr. Valerius hadn’t been able to make much sense of the stories in the folio which had
appeared on his doorstep. They were about demons and goats and centaurs which didn’t appeal
to his scientific mind. His mind responded more to real, observable phenomenon, and not
abstract mythical creatures who were not subject to the same natural laws as the rest of
humanity. (Why would anyone write about a statue which comes to life? What are we supposed
to learn from that?) And yet someone had given him this folio. Who? And why? What did
they think he would do with such a book? And why deliver it in such a clandestine manner,
leaning it up against his doorstep without so much as a letter of explanation or introduction.

He was no appreciator of art. He did not understand nor care to understand why Duke
Francesco had chosen to convert a perfectly efficient utilitarian building, I Magistrati, to display
works of art; in fact, why spend money on art at all. It’s not that the doctor actually disliked art;
he simply felt he didn’t understand it. Oh, the Madonnas and Children, yes, that he understood
had a purpose, telling visual parables to the illiterate, converting them in rather unsubtle ways to
believe in the Mysteries of the Whereafter. The obviousness of the storytelling in the paintings,
he felt he understood that well enough. It was all the odd and obscure iconography which left
him scratching his head. The puzzling objects in the Adoring Figures’ hands or entwined in their
hair: tetrahedrons, shafts of wheat, mystic triangles, random bits of fruit or rodents or
birds...what did it all mean? It’s like a secret code, thought the Doctor, you need to be given the
special Key to the Symbols or like the rest of us you’ll just see a bunch of apples and rats. And
what in Heaven’s name are those boys painting on the ceiling? Demons and centaurs with no
legs or arms. Bodies growing into trees or branches or fathers. Strange winged lions with
women’s faces. Fires, candles, lamps, burning objects. And goats, goats, goats. Must mean
something, I guess.

There were four possible artists whom Valerius could think of who might have created
the folio, though none seemed likely. There was the old master, Allesandro Allori, keeping to
himself, working and mumbling at the far end of the hallway, never really bothering to speak
with Valerius, so he knew very little about him -- Allori had a pack of children; beyond that,
Valerius knew nothing else as there was little interaction between the two men, and therefore
little reason for Allori to have sent the strange book. Another painter Valerius could not imagine
could read: a brutish fellow, Tozzo, a big treetrunk of a fellow with explosive orange hair. They
had chatted pleasantries often enough, he and Tozzo, but mainly of wine and ale and vomit. But
Tozzo wouldn’t have written this book. Another one...Valerius was not sure he knew the
fellow’s name as he never spoke a word. Rumor is that he’s deaf, rather than shy, but how
would I know? Aha!, there’s Santi! Of course.

Santi del Meglio. Fine fellow. Apparently murdered a few days ago; appalling;
shocking; tragic. Santi had come to Dr. Valerius for medical advice (his father, wasn’t it?

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