The Serpent Garden - Judith Merkle Riley (57 page)

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“See what I mean? I’d never take it from you, Susanna. It means too much to you. But you must swear: no more false corpses, no more posthumous paintings, no more naked Adam and Eves.”

“I swear, Robert.” It was easy to swear. I never do the same thing twice, anyway. Besides, this time I was going to follow the virtues in my
Good Wyfe’s
book much more closely and also try the recipe for bream again. Robert once mentioned liking bream, and besides, it was Lent.

The Thirteenth Portrait

Artist unknown. Flemish. ca. 1500.
Infant with Finches.
30
×
21”. Silverpoint, heightened with red and black chalk. The Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg.

With a liveliness more characteristic of the depiction of putti in the Italian works of the period, the unknown artist has presented us with a real baby, propped up in a laundry basket in the shade, attempting to grasp the finches which perch on a branch just above its reach. Note particularly the delicacy of the work around the face and hands, and the Italianate influence on the treatment of the folds of the infant’s gown and blankets. Despite the informality of the pose and expression, so different from the portrayals of aristocratic children of the period, this is clearly intended as a portrait, possibly of the artist’s own child.

—P. Michaels.
F
LEMISH
D
RAWINGS OF THE
R
ENAISSANCE

T
he
LITTLE SILVER BELL ON THE DOOR OF THE GALLERY ON THE PONT AU
C
HANGE RANG, BUT THE VISITORS STEPPED RIGHT THROUGH THE DOOR.
There was a flurry and a twittering, and the curly-headed cherubs abandoned their dice on the counter and vanished through the ceiling.

“So, Hadriel, we’ve found you at last. Look at you here! Just what do you think you are doing?” Uriel’s voice was deep and fierce. Behind him stood Michael the Archangel with his fiery sword.

“Do put that sword away, Michael. You’ll set fire to some of my
objets d’art
,” said Hadriel, thoroughly unrepentant.

“We have informed the Father that you have abandoned your duty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he demotes you for this, Hadriel.”

“It was all an inspiration. It just came over me, you understand. I imagine you haven’t had any inspirations in simply ages, or you’d be considerably more understanding. Look here, see all these lovely things that have been created? I do my job ten times as fast with my new method. I’ve covered this whole city with a web of inspiration, and next month I’m opening up several branch operations. What do you think of Amsterdam?”

“We think you are a troublemaker, Hadriel. You’ve set the whole world on its ear again. And where do we find you?
Keeping a shop
. It’s lowly, that’s what. It tarnishes our reputation.”

“Is that all you care about? I’d say an angel ought to do what has to be done. You’re even more snobbish than the seraphim. I’ve never been afraid to get my hands dirty, like
some
I know. Why, I’ve even boxed Belphagor, and what thanks do I get?”

The two archangels conferred briefly. “Boxed Belphagor? How did you do that?” Hadriel seated himself on his counter, kicking his bare feet and examining his fingernails.

“Don’t you wish you knew,” he said.

“Hadriel, you lack respect.”

“Oh, I have lots of respect. I have respect for my job. I have respect for being an angel. I have respect for the Father, too. How do you know this wasn’t all His idea, anyway? After all, He knows everything, before and after time, alpha and omega, the whole lot.” Michael scratched his head in bewilderment.

“Nevertheless, you’re coming with us,” Uriel said firmly. “And bring those cherubs of yours with you. I’m sure we’ll have the whole story from
them
. Hadriel, we expected better of you.” Together, the three of them rose through the ceiling and were soon flying over the walls of the city, the cherubs, now silent, fluttering about them like a flock of chastened sparrows. Beyond them, the clouds spread to the horizon over the undulating French landscape. Here and there, on forest and field, a light spring rain fell. Where the clouds broke, patches of blue spattered across the sky. One of the cherubs pulled on Hadriel’s gown. He looked down. There on a narrow road far from the city, two horses carrying double toiled along in the mud, followed by a packhorse laden with baggage topped off by an odd wooden box and a birdcage. Riding behind the man in front was a woman enveloped in a heavy cloak and hood. Neither were enough to disguise the fact that she was dressed in a novice’s gray gown.

“Look,” said Hadriel. “It’s Mistress Susanna.” Uriel looked disgusted.

“So now you are acquainted with nuns who elope,” he said.

“Oh, not really. She’s all right. It’s just another of her deceptions.”

“Hadriel, you had something to do with this, didn’t you?” said Michael, in a tone of growing suspicion.

“
Not
his job,” said Uriel.

“Oh, no. Really, it was,” said Hadriel. “Look, just wait a minute, will you? I promised Mistress Susanna a rainbow.”

“One minute and one only,” said Michael. Hadriel blew and fussed and rearranged the clouds so that the sun shone through the falling rain. A great rainbow sprang across the sky, wider than a mountain, its half arc disappearing into the clouds above. Inside it and opposite it sprang up two little rainbows, full arcs with feet that rested on the rolling countryside. From the angels’ vantage point, it seemed that the riders were toiling along through a bath of color where the smallest rainbow touched the ground. Around them, dappled sunlight made the first bits of green life shine as they pushed their way up through the winter-dead meadows.

“
Hmph
. You do make a good rainbow, Hadriel,” said Michael. “
That
, I’ll grant you.”

“But as usual, you’ve overdone,” sniffed Uriel as they vanished away into eternity.

About the Author

J
UDITH
M
ERKLE
R
ILEY
is a professor of political science, and has a Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley. She is the bestselling author of
A Vison of Light, In Pursuit of the Green Lion,
and
The Water Devil,
all reissued by Three Rivers Press.

READ THE
Margaret of Ashbury

TRILOGY BY
Judith Merkle Riley