Read City of Flowers for Free Online Page B

registered him only like a piece of fine architecture; he was much better equipped to appreciate a man like Enrico. Sandro hoped that his father had been a man like that. ‘Let’s go,’ he said now, eager to take advantage of this unusual opportunity.
    The boys walked through the courtyard and Sky noticed that the paving-stones between the flower beds all carried the symbol of the lily, in its elaborate fleur-de-lys form, like the stopper to his bottle. He asked Sandro about it.
    â€˜It’s the symbol of the city,’ he answered. ‘Giglia means City of the Lily. And the di Chimici have it on their family crest too, with the shape of a perfume bottle.’
    The palazzo had what looked like its own little cemetery, dominated by a recent white marble tomb. It was topped by the statue of a young boy and his dog. Sky stopped to look at it; there was something familiar about the boy.
    â€˜That’s Prince Falco,’ said Sandro. ‘The Duke’s youngest.’
    â€˜What happened to him?’ asked Sky.
    â€˜Poisoned himself,’ said Sandro dramatically. ‘Couldn’t bear the pain any longer. He was all smashed up after an accident with a horse.’
    They were both silent for a moment while Sky thought about being in so much pain you would want to kill yourself and Sandro planned how to use their permission to roam the palazzo.
    On the far side of the courtyard was a broad flight of stone steps, which the boys climbed. At the top was a heavy dark wooden door, which Sandro pushed cautiously open. They found themselves in a small chapel, where two tall candles burned in even taller candlesticks on the altar. But what made both boys gasp was the paintings which covered three walls.
    They were rich with silver and, looking closely, Sky could see that some of the figures had real jewels embedded in their elaborate hats. The paintings showed a long winding procession of men, horses and dogs against a background of, he supposed, Talian countryside. Deer and rabbits and other small animals were pursued through bushes by some of the hunting dogs, and birds perched on branches, oblivious of whatever the humans were doing. At the head of the procession were three figures even more grandly dressed than the rest, with crowns instead of hats.
    Something bothered Sky about it; it was familiar but somehow different. Then he realised; the painting it reminded him of had gold wherever these frescoes had silver. Sandro was up close and Sky saw to his horror that he was trying to prise a small ruby from the hat of one of the minor figures in the procession.
    â€˜Stop that at once,’ he said sharply and the boy looked up, startled.
    â€˜You can’t go nicking bits off a great work of art,’ Sky explained.
    Sandro was surprised; he didn’t see it as a work of art, just a collection of coloured paints and valuable jewels, some of which would never be missed. But he realised that Tino, as a friar, might see things differently. He sheathed his dagger and shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
    â€˜I do,’ said Sky. ‘Look how beautiful it is. But why is it silver?’
    Sandro really thought Sky must be a bit touched in the head.
    â€˜Because silver’s the most precious metal,’ he explained patiently, as if to a child.
    â€˜More than gold?’ asked Sky.
    â€˜Course,’ said Sandro. ‘Gold goes black – gets the morte d’oro . Silver just keeps on shining.’ He gave one of the candlesticks on the altar a bit of a rub with his cuff. ‘Nah, you keep gold for a knick-knack to give your lady love if you’re not really serious about her. Silver’s only for the likes of the di Chimici.’
    Sandro’s words made Sky think about the quiet fair-haired girl at his school. What would Alice Greaves say to a gold bracelet brought back from Talia? He didn’t think she’d see it as a trinket. Then he remembered he didn’t have