The Brotherhood of Book Hunters Read Online Free

precious mineral along the sheet, noting that the vellum had been scratched. François realized with astonishment that the big, highly-polished red stone enlarged every detail.
    Fust was unable to suppress a start of surprise. Between the clumsily traced lines, he detected the vague outlines of Aramaic letters. So it was not to salvage the parchment that the copyist had scraped it with a knife but to camouflage the original characters, which had been engraved into the hide with a stylet and then concealed beneath the thick ink of an innocuous text. It was in this way that the Jews disguised the works they wanted to save from burning by the Inquisition. This laborious process was only used for Talmudic or kabbalistic writings of the highest importance. At the time of the Crusades, the knights unknowingly carried these works disguised as pious breviaries. They thought they were returning them from Jerusalem to Avignon or Frankfurt, not suspecting for a moment that they were serving as couriers to the rabbis of these same towns. It was then only necessary to dissolve the mask of ink to reveal the secret copy. Today, it was Fust’s peddlers who ensured, in all innocence, the distribution of clandestine works cleverly disguised as psalters or other Catholic items.
    Again examining the list with a wise air, Fust wondered if he had not been lured into a trap. Only someone powerful could have collected so many rarities. They were worth a fortune! Unless they were items confiscated by the censors. In which case, Villon was probably not a broker, but an agent of the law.
    A merchant discusses the sum to be decided on, the methods of payment, delivery dates. But no price had yet been mentioned. The old man looked at the unusual character sitting on the floor opposite him. He was crouching in the middle of a heap of bound volumes and scrolls of parchment, as if selling vegetables at the market. But he was clearly familiar with beautiful books. He manipulated them with dexterity. His slovenly appearance belied the natural elegance of his demeanor, the discreet refinement of his gestures. The frankness of his gaze might have instilled confidence in Fust if it had not been for that impish gleam. A narrow grin, always there even when he spoke, displayed an effrontery that he made no attempt to conceal. This fellow was not one to let good manners and conventional expressions get in his way. He did not pretend. It was Fust who felt he was being sized up, put to the test. The other man was challenging him with that smile that wasn’t a smile, inviting him to enter the joust without forcing him to do so completely. Curiosity finally won out over caution.
    â€œMay I make you an offer?”
    â€œThe seller does not want money.”
    Fust’s whole body stiffened. He was ready to make a run for it, but François reassured him with a little tap on the arm. The corners of his mouth creased even more, accentuating the mischievous expression of his face.
    â€œBut he is ready to graciously give you all these volumes in return for your services.”
    Taken aback, the German stammered. François immediately explained Guillaume Chartier’s wish to enrich his diocese with a printing works and a few banned books. In order not to scare off his prey, he avoided mention of the king.
    Fust quickly did his sums, even though he was hesitant to close a deal that seemed too attractive to be without pitfalls. He asked for time to think, to consult his associates, to obtain guarantees, but it was clear that he now had only one idea in his head: to get his hands on the books heaped at François’ feet.
    Fust took his leave, promising to give his answer within a short period of time. As soon as he left the room, Colin leaped for joy. François remained sitting. He put the precious volumes back in his pouch, without saying a word. He did not have any sense of victory. He hated himself for being Guillaume Chartier’s broker, for