Free The Colour of Heaven by James Runcie

progress towards Ragusa on the Dalmatian coast. Paolo soon learned to adjust to the crowded conditions, the stench of men and animals, and the meagre food; but the contrast between the darkness below decks and the brightness above hurt his eyes. He longed for a fixed sense of place where he could choose between light and shadow; for the freedom to travel in another direction; for solitude. He realised that the only way in which he could survive would be to be as discreet as possible and to make himself as familiar with the ship as if he were blind, memorising dimension and direction, learning the routine rhythms of work, sail, food, labour, and rest.
    His first duty was to unload provisions as Jacopo sold wine and bought silver. He was to keep a record of every transaction and check their goods each day, inspecting cloth for damage and food for decay, re-stoppering bottles of oil and securing flagons of wine.
    As they travelled Jacopo began to feel strangely responsible for his charge, worrying if he was wearing sufficient clothing or if he might become chilled. He was watchful of their diet, suggesting that Paolo eat not meat but fish cooked in wine according to his wife Sofia’s recipe. He should also take as much fruit as possible in order to keep his kidneys healthy and his water clear. By the time they reached Candia, Jacopo had become almost paternal, telling his companion to avoid all temptation from the women of the town because a bite from a Cretan woman’s teeth could be as fatal as the pox from her favours.
    Paolo had not yet seen any women to be tempted by and, because of his eyesight, had difficulty in looking at them at all. If he wanted to see a girl properly he had to stand so close that the object of his intended affection would immediately wonder what he was doing, suspecting him either of lechery or theft. The only chance of an encounter lay in the crowded markets of the ports and islands where women stopped to gather provisions. There he would seek out moments of beauty – the fall of hair, a perfect mouth, or the curve of a breast. Yet such times came so fleetingly, and the women seemed so remote, that Paolo doubted that he would ever know the delights of flesh against flesh. Nevertheless, Jacopo insisted that he remain vigilant. A man should do everything possible to avoid temptation and desire.
    When asked how the terrors of lust might be avoided, Jacopo advised that the best course of action would be to cease shaving immediately and grow a beard, since, in his experience, the most lustful men were always clean shaven.
    ‘A beard,’ he told Paolo, ‘is a mark of wisdom and maturity.’
    Paolo replied that his skin was so pale and his hair so fair that he wondered if anyone would ever notice if he had a beard or not, but Jacopo was adamant that he make the attempt.
    It was slow progress.
    Each day Paolo touched his face to check that the beard was growing. He scratched the stubble so often that it began to look like a nervous gesture. He would peer down his nose to see the burgeoning hairs on his upper lip. The spikes were sharp blond, pale brown, even auburn. It was as if the beard were not his own and that a separate creature had taken possession of his face.
    ‘I do not like it,’ he told Jacopo, but his guardian insisted he continue, arguing that a beard not only conveyed wisdom and learning, but also gave character to a man’s profile. It compensated for any loss of hair on the scalp, for the chin and the cheeks possessed far more vigorous follicles. It was also economical, saving money in the acquiring of knives and time spent shaving; and, most importantly, it would not only protect the face from the heat of the desert, but also avoid giving offence in the land of Mohammed.
    Jacopo was quite obsessed with the subject. Male lizards, he told Paolo, grew beards in courtship displays; Noah and Methuselah must both have had beards that were over nine hundred years old; and the female Christian