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"No, child, don't be dense!" said the red-haired man looking across the table at me. He was powerfully beautiful. Had Bianca loved him? She never said.
"The secret, the secret," he said. "If you don't believe in this secret, then you'll believe nothing, nothing sacred or otherwise. "
He lifted his goblet. It was empty. I picked up the pitcher and filled it with the dark lovely-smelling red wine. I considered taking a taste of it, then a revulsion filled me.
"Nonsense," whispered my Master. "Drink to their passing. Go ahead. There's a clean goblet. "
"Oh, yes, forgive me," said the redhead. "I haven't even offered you a cup. Good God, to think I threw a mere table diamond on the board for you, when I would have your love. " He picked up the goblet, a rich fancy thing of inlaid silver with tiny stones. I saw now that all the goblets were a set, all carved with tiny delicate figures and set with these same bright little stones. He set down this goblet for me with a clonk. He took the pitcher from me and filled the goblet and then thrust it at me.
I thought I would become so sick I'd vomit on the floor. I looked up at him, at his near sweet face and his pretty blazing red hair. He gave a boyish smile, showing small but perfect white teeth, very pearly, and he seemed to dote on me and to drift, not uttering a word.
"Take it, drink," said my Master. "Yours is a dangerous road, Amadeo, drink for knowledge and drink for strength. "
"You don't mock me now, Sir, do you?" I asked, staring at the red-haired man though I spoke to Marius.
"I love you, Sir, as I always have," said my Master, "but you do see something in what I say, for I'm coarsened by human blood. It's always the fact. Only in starvation do I find an ethereal purity. "
"Ah, and you turn me from penance at every juncture," I said, "towards the senses, towards pleasure. "
The red-haired man and I had locked eyes. Yet I heard Marius answer me.
"It's a penance to kill, Amadeo, that's the rub. It's a penance to slay for nothing, nothing, not 'honor, not valor, not decency,' as our friend says here. "
"Yes!" said "our friend," who turned to Marius and then back to me. "Drink!" He thrust the goblet at me.
"And when it's all done, Amadeo, gather up these goblets for me and bring them home so I might have a trophy of my failure and my defeat, for they will be one and the s
ame, and a lesson for you as well. Seldom is it all so rich and clear as it is to me now. "
The red-haired man leaned forward, deep into the flirt, and put the goblet right against my lip. "Little David, you'll grow up to be the King, remember? Oh, I would worship you now, tender-cheeked little man that you are, and beg for one psalm from your harp, just one, were it given with your own will. "
My Master whispered low, "Can you grant a man's dying request?"
"I think he is dead!" said the gray-haired man with obnoxious loud-ness. "Look, Martino, I think I did kill him; his head's bleeding like a damned tomato. Look!"
"Oh, shut up about him!" said Martino, the redhead, without taking his eyes off mine. "Do grant a dying man's request, little David," he went on. "We are all dying, and I for you, and that you die with me, just a little, Sir, in my arms? Let us make a little game of it. It will amuse you, Marius De Romanus. You'll see I ride him and stroke him with one artful rhythm, and you'll behold a sculpture of flesh that becomes a fountain, as what I pump into him comes forth from him in my hand. "
He cupped his hand as if he had my organ already in it. He kept his eyes on me. Then in a low whisper, he said, "I'm too soft to make my sculpture. Let me drink it from you. Have mercy on the parched. "
I snatched the goblet out of his wavering hand and drank down the wine. My body tightened. I thought the wine would come back up and spew. I made it go down. I looked at my Master.
"This is ugly, I hate it. "
"Oh, nonsense," he said, barely moving his lips. "There's beauty all around!"
"Damned if he isn't dead," said the gray-haired man. He kicked the body of Francisco on the floor. "Martino, I'm out of here. "
"Stay, Sir," said Marius. "I would kiss you good night. " He clapped his hand over the gray-haired man's wrist and lunged at his throat, but what did it look like to the red-haired one, who gave it only a bleary glance before he continued his worship? He filled my goblet again.
A moan came from the gray-haired man, or was it from Marius?
I was petrified. When he turned from his victim, I would see even more blood teeming in him, and I would have given all the world to see him white again, my marble god, my graven Father in our private bed.
The red-haired man rose before me as he leant over the table and put his wet lips on mine. "I die for you, boy!" he said.
"No, you die for nothing," said Marius.
"Master, not him, please!" I cried.
