anner.bloodandgold-第49部分

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hem　to　make　their　way　back　home。
　　　As　the　town　where　I　was　lodged　was　not　safe　from　invasions；　no　matter　how　contented　its　Lombard　inhabitants；　I　set　about　my　work　the　following　night。
　　　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　covered　the　distance　with　such　speed　that　separated　my　town　dwelling　from　the　final　location　of　the　shrine。　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　dug　through　hard…packed　earth　and　rock　to　create　the　passages　that　led　eventually　to　the　square　room　of　the　vault；　and　then　made　the　ironbound　stone　door　which　would　separate　the　King　and　the　Queen　from　the　light　of　day。
　　　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　painted　the　walls　with　the　old　Greco…Roman　gods　and　goddesses。　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　made　the　throne　of　granite　with　such　skill　and　in　such　time。
　　　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　carried　the　Mother　and　Father　one　by　one　up　the　mountain　and　into　the　finished　resting　place。　Only　a　blood　drinker　could　have　set　them　side　by　side　on　their　granite　throne。
　　　And　when　it　was　finished；　who　else　would　have　lain　down　in　the　coldness　to　weep　again　out　of　some　habitual　loneliness？　Who　else　could　have　lain　for　some　two　weeks　in　quietude　and　exhaustion；　
　　　refusing　to　move？
　　　It　was　no　wonder　that　in　those　first　few　months　I　tried　to　prompt　some　vitality　from　Those　Who　Must　Be　Kept　by　bringing　to　them　　sacrifices；　like　unto　Eudoxia；　but　for　these　poor　wretched　mortals…Evil　Doers；　I　quite　assure　you…Akasha　refused　to　move　her　all…powerful　right　arm。　And　so　I　must　finish　with　these　miserable　victims　and　carry　their　remains　high　into　the　mountains　where　I　flung　them　on　jagged　peaks　as　so　many　offerings　to　cruel　gods。
　　　In　the　following　centuries；　I　did　hunt　the　nearby　towns　most　carefully；
　　　　drinking　a　little　from　many　so　as　never　to　rouse　a　local　population；
　　　and　sometimes　I　did　travel　a　great　distance　to　discover　how　things　were　in　the　cities　I'd　once　known。
　　　I　visited　Pavia；　Marseilles；　and　Lyons。　There　I　visited　the　taverns　as　had　always　been　my　custom；　daring　to　draw　mortals　into　conversation；　plying　them　with　wine　to　tell　me　all　that　went　on　in　the　world。　Now　and　then　I　explored　the　very　battlefields　where　the　Islamic　warriors　achieved　their　victories。　Or　followed　the　Franks　into　battle；　easily　using　the　darkness　as　my　shield。　And　during　this　period…for　the　first　time　in　my　immortal　existence…I　made　close　mortal　friends。
　　　That　is；　I　would　choose　a　mortal；　a　soldier　for　instance；　and　meet　with　him　often　in　his　local　tavern　to　talk　about　his　view　of　the　world；　about　his　life。　Never　were　these　friendships　very　long　or　very　deep；　for　I　wouldn't　allow　them　to　be　so；　and　if　ever　the　temptation　came　over　me　to　make　a　blood　drinker；　I　would　swiftly　move　on。
　　　But　I　came　to　know　many　mortals　in　this　way；　even　monks　in　their　monasteries；　for　I　had　no　shyness　about　accosting　them　on　the　road；　especially　when　they　passed　through　dangerous　territory；　and　acpanying　them　for　some　time　while　asking　them　polite　questions　about　how　it　went　with　the　Pope　and　the　church　and　even　the　small　
　　　munities　in　which　they　lived。
　　　There　are　stories　I　could　tell　of　these　mortals；　for　sometimes　I　couldn't　guard　my　heart　so　very　well。　But　there　is　no　time　now　for　that。　Let　me　only　confess　that　I　made　the　friendships；　and　when　I　look　back　on　it；　I　pray　to　some　god　who　might　be　willing　to　answer　me；　that　I　gave　as　good　a　consolation　from　this　as　I　received。
　　　When　I　was　most　courageous　of　heart；　I　went　down　into　Italy　as　far　as　Ravenna　to　see　the　marvelous　churches　which　possessed　the　same　magnificent　mosaics　as　I　had　seen　in　Constantinople。　But　never　did　I　dare　to　go　further　into　my　native　land。　I　was　too　afraid　to　see　the　destruction　of　all　that　had　once　been　there。
　　　As　for　the　news　of　the　world　which　I　learnt　from　those　I　befriended；　in　the　main　it　broke　my　heart。
　　　Constantinople　had　abandoned　Italy；　and　only　the　Pope　of　Rome　stood　firm　against　its　invaders。　Islamic　Arabs　conquered　all　the　world　it　seemed；　including　Gaul。　Then　Constantinople　became　involved　in　a　terrible　crisis　over　the　validity　of　Holy　Pictures；　condemning　them　out　of　hand；　which　meant　the　wholesale　destruction　of　mosaics　in　churches　as　well　as　ikons…a　horrid　war　against　art　which　scorched　my　soul。
　　　The　Pope　of　Rome　would　have　no　part　of　it；　thank　Heaven；　and　turning　his　back　officially　on　the　Eastern　Empire；　he　made　alliances　with　the　Franks。
　　　This　was　the　end　of　the　dream　of　the　great　Empire　that　included　both　East　and　West。　It　was　the　end　of　my　dream　that　Byzantium　would　somehow　preserve　the　civilization　which　Rome　had　once　preserved。
　　　But　it　did　not　mean　the　end　of　the　civilized　world。　Even　I；　the　bitter　Roman　Patrician；　had　to　admit　to　that。
　　　There　soon　rose　among　the　Franks　a　great　leader；　eventually　to　be　called　Charlemagne；　and　his　victories　were　many　in　maintaining　some　sort　of　peace　in　the　West。　Meantime　there　gathered　around　him　a　court　where　some　of　the　old　Latin　literature　was　encouraged　like　a　fragile　flame。
　　　But　in　the　main　it　was　the　church　which　now　kept　alive　the　aspects　of　culture　which　had　been　part　of　the　Roman　world　to　which　I'd　been　born。　Ah；　such　an　irony；　that　Christianity；　this　rebel　religion；　born　of　martyrdom　during　the　Pax　Romana；　now　preserved　the　old　writings；　the　old　language；　the　old　poetry；　and　the　old　speech。
　　　As　the　centuries　passed；　I　grew　stronger；　every　gift　I　possessed　was　enhanced。　While　lying　in　the　vault　with　the　Mother　and　the　Father；　I　could　hear　the　voices　of　people　in　towns　far　away。　I　could　hear　an　
　　　occasional　blood　drinker　pass　close　to　me。　I　could　hear　thoughts　or　prayers。
　　　
　　　
　　　At　last　the　Cloud　Gift　came　to　me。　I　needn't　climb　the　slope　to　the　vault　any　longer。　I　had　only　to　will　myself　to　rise　from　the　road　and　I　stood　before　the　hidden　doors　to　the　passage。　It　was　frightening；　yet　I　loved　it　for　I　could　travel　even　greater　distances　when　I　had　the　strength　for　it；　which　was　less　often　as　time　went　on。
　　　Meantime　castles　and　monasteries　had　e　to　appear　in　this　land　which　had　once　been　the　territory　of　warring　barbarian　tribes。　With　the　Cloud　Gift　I　could　visit　the　high　peaks　upon　which　these　marvelous　structures　were　created　and　sometimes　slip　into　their　very　rooms。
　　　I　was　a　drifter　through　eternity；　a　spy　among　other　hearts。　I　was　a　blood　thing　who　knew　nothing　about　death　and　finally　nothing　about　time。
　　　Sometimes　on　the　winds　I　drifted。　Always　through　the　lives　of　others　I　drifted。　And　in　the　mountain　vault　I　did　my　usual　painting　for　Those　Who　Must　Be　Kept；　covering　their　walls　this　time　with　old　Egyptians　e　to　make　sacrifice；　and　I　kept　my　few　books　there　that　forted　my　soul。
　　　In　the　monasteries　I　often　spied　upon　the　monks。　I　loved　to　watch　them　writing　in　their　scriptoriums；　and　it　was　a　fort　to　me　to　see　that　they　kept　the　old　Greek　and　Roman　poetry　safe。　In　the　small　hours；　I　went　into　the　libraries；　and　there；　a　hooded　figure；　hunched　over　the　lectern；　I　read　the　old　poetry　and　history　from　my　time。
　　　Never　was　I　discovered。　I　was　far　too　clever。　And　often　I　lingered　outside　the　chapel　in　the　evening；　listening　to　the　plainsong　of　the　monks；　which　created　a　peace　inside　of　me；　rather　like　walking　the　cloisters；　or　listening　to　the　steeple　bells。
　　　Meantime　the　art　of　Greece　and　Rome　which　I　had　loved　so　much　pletely　died　away。　A　dour　religious　art　took　its　place。　Proportion　and　naturalism　were　no　longer　important。　What　mattered　was　that　those　images　which　were　rendered　be　evocative　of　devotion　to　God。
　　　Human　figures　in　paintings　or　in　stone　were　often　impossibly　gaunt；　with　bold　staring　eyes。　A　dreadful　grotesquery　reigned。　It　was　not　for　want　of　knowledge；　or　skill；　for　manuscripts　were　decorated　with　tremendous　patience；　and　monasteries　and　churches　were　built　at　great　cost。　Those　who　made　this　art　could　have　made　anything。　It　was　a　choice。　Art　was　not　to　be　sensual。　Art　was　to　be　pious。　Art　was　to　be　grim。　And　so　the　classical　world　was　lost。
　　　Of　course　I　found　wonders　in　this　new　world；　I　cannot　deny　it。　Using　the　Cloud　Gift；　I　traveled　to　the　great　Gothic　cathedrals；　whose　high　arches　surpassed　anything　I'd　ever　beheld。　I　was　stunned　by　the　beauty　of　these　cathedrals。　I　marveled　at　the　market　towns　which　were　growing　up　all　over　Europe。　It　seemed　that　merce　and　crafts　had　settled　the　land　which　war　could　not　settle　alone。
　　　New　languages　were　spoken　everywhere。　French　was　the　language　of　the　elite。　But　there　was　English　and　German　and　Italian　as　well。
　　　I　saw　it　all　happening；　and　yet　I　saw　nothing。　And　then　finally；　perhaps　in　the　year　1200…I　am　uncertain…I　lay　down　in　the　vault　for　a　long　sleep。
　　　I　was　weary　of　the　world　and　quite　impossibly　strong。　I　confessed　my　intentions　to　Those　Who　Must　Be　Kept。　The　lamps　would　eventually
　　　　　burn　down；　I　told　them。　And　there　would　only　be　darkness；　but　please；　would　they　forgive　me。　I　was　tired。　I　wanted　to　sleep　for　a　long；　long　time。
　　　As　I　slept；　I　learnt。　My　preternatural　hearing　was　too　strong　now　for　me　to　lie　in　silence。　I　could　not　escape　the　voices　of　those　who　cried　out；　be　they　blood　drinkers　or　humans。　I　could　not　escape　the　drifting　history　of　the　world。
　　　And　so　it　was　with　me　in　the　high　Alpine　pass　where　I　was　hidden。　I　heard　the