The Falconer's Knot by Mary Hoffman Page B

uses it for under-painting the flesh tones of all the figures in his frescoes. It is the simplest colour to make. We have here a load of celadon rock from Verona,’ indicating some sacks in the corner. ‘Now, it is not exciting. It cannot be used for finished greens in wall paintings, like malachite or verdigris, because it won’t last. But it is an essential part of the painter’s art and we shall spend today grinding it for the glory of Saint Francis, in whose Basilica it will be used.’
    It was a long speech for Brother Anselmo, and Silvano sensed that he was trying to bring the brothers back to earth – literally – by giving them this dull clay-like stuff to work with. And there seemed to be a message about how much unexciting work was needed before a surface could be richly adorned. It was clear that he had no intention of discussing the murder and the friars worked diligently at their porphyry slabs till Sext at noon.
    But there was no rule of silence in the colour room and, as long as the work was done, Brother Anselmo did not mind if there was a low level of conversation. The trouble was, from Silvano’s point of view, that the main topic seemed to be him. Many of the brothers glanced towards him and held whispered conversations. He was gratified to see Brother Matteo talking animatedly under his breath to some of them and he hoped that his denial of the murders was being passed on. But no one spoke to him all morning and he felt very alone.
    A visit from Brother Fazio was a welcome interruption. The Illuminator worked separately from Brother Anselmo and had his own novices to assist him. But he came into the colour room for supplies of dragonsblood, arzica, sandarach or saffron. Before Anselmo’s arrival, he had got his colours from Sister Veronica at the convent. There was only one colour that he made himself and that was the lead-white used for the surfaces of his parchment.
    When he had gathered up what he needed, Brother Anselmo said something quietly to Fazio and he beckoned Silvano to help carry his packages. Silvano was glad to leave the poisoned atmosphere of the colour room behind.
    Brother Fazio led the way to his cell, the only double one in the friary. Silvano assumed that the inner room was where the Illuminator slept and prayed. The large outer room was a public one, full of activity. Two novices worked on scraping the animal skins that would become the parchment. In the middle of the room was a high wooden desk with a seat and on the surface was spread the page that Brother Fazio was working on.
    ‘It is a New Testament,’ Fazio explained, when Silvano had handed his parcels of pigments over to one of the novices. ‘Here I am illuminating the words of Saint John the Evangelist.’
    Silvano looked at the elaborate letter at the beginning of the chapter. Brother Fazio was an artist as skilled in his way as Simone Martini. There was a complete scene coiled within the shining golden letter: reds and greens and blues showed a grapevine laden with fruit; there was even a little man tending the vine and cutting off a dead branch with his billhook. It was so lifelike that Silvano could imagine the taste of the grapes in his mouth. Brother Fazio, holding a parcel of pigments in his right hand, picked up a pen in his left and added a tiny fleck of white to the wing of a miniature bird pecking at a grape. It seemed he was equally dextrous with either hand.
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Silvano.
    Fazio looked pleased. ‘It is for the glory of God,’ he said modestly. ‘Would you like to see how we prepare the parchment and pigments?’
    The novices were willing to show Silvano their work. He wondered if they had heard the rumours about him. Brother Fazio chattered on about the techniques of illumination. He was rather a fussy little man but friendly enough and clearly proud of his work. ‘And we mix the colours with white of egg,’ he finished. ‘Yes, it is thanks to me that you have such bright