Warhammer-Anthologies 08-Tales of the Old World by Marc Cascoigne & Christian Dunn

Author:Marc Cascoigne & Christian Dunn [Cascoigne, Marc & Dunn, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781844164523
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2007-04-23T23:00:00+00:00

PORTRAIT OF MY

UNDYING LADY

by Gordon Rennie

‘A commission you say? What kind of commission?’ Giovanni Gottio leaned across the table, wine slopping from the cheap copper goblet in his hand. It would soon be replenished, he knew, in just the same way as his new-found friend sitting opposite had been steadily refilling Giovanni’s goblet all night.

‘A portrait,’ answered his new-found friend. ‘In oils. My employer will pay you well for your time.’

Giovanni snorted, spilling more wine. Absent-mindedly he dabbed one grimy finger in the spilled mess, painting imaginary brush strokes on the rough surface of the bar table. Faces. Faces had always been his speciality. Strangely, though, he had been sitting with the man for hours, drinking his wine and spending his money, but if the stranger got up and left this minute, Giovanni would have been unable to say what exactly he looked like. His was more a blurred impressionistic sketch of a face – eyes cold and cruel, mouth weak and arrogant – than any kind of finished work. The most memorable thing about him in Giovanni’s mind was the way the emerald ring on his finger caught and held even the dim candlelight of this grimy back street taverna.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ Giovanni slurred, becoming gradually aware that he was far more drunk than he should be this early in the night, even after those three pitchers of wine the stranger had bought for him. ‘The great Gottio doesn’t do portraits any more. He is an artist, and artists are supposed to show truth in their work. The trouble is, people don’t want the truth. They don’t like it. That fool Lorenzo Lupo certainly didn’t, when he commissioned the great Gottio to paint a portrait of his wife.’

Giovanni realised he was shouting now, that he was drawing sniggering glances from the other regular patrons of the taverna. Not caring, he reached out to angrily refill his goblet once more.

‘Did you see it, my portrait of that famed beauty, the wife of the Merchant Prince of Luccini? Not many people did, for her husband had it destroyed as quickly as he could. Still, those few that did see it said that it captured the woman perfectly, not just in its reflection of her exquisite beauty but even more so in the way it brought out all the charm, grace and personality of the hungry mountain wolf that lurked beneath that fair skin.’

Giovanni drained his goblet and slammed it down, stumbling as he got up to leave. This drunk after only three pitchers, he thought. The great Gottio truly has lost his touch…

‘So, thank you for your hospitality, sir, but the great Gottio no longer paints portraits any more. He paints only the truth, a quality which would sadly seem to be in little fashion amongst this world’s lords and masters.’

Mocking laughter followed him out of the taverna. Outside, he staggered along the alleyway, leaning against a wall for support. Shallya’s mercy. That cheap Pavonan wine certainly had a kick to

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