按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
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 prayers of Italy。 I heard the prayers of Gaul which had now bee the country known as France。
I heard the souls suffering the terrible disease of the thirteen hundreds known now most appropriately as the Black Death。
In the darkness I opened my eyes。 I listened。 Perhaps I even studied。
And then finally I roused myself and went down into Italy； afraid for the fate of all the world。 I had to see the land I loved with my own eyes。 I had to go back。
The city that drew me was one I had not known before in my life。 It was a new city； in that it had not existed in the ancient time of the Caesars； and was now a great port。 In fact； it was very likely the greatest city of all Europe。 Venice was the name of it； and the Black Death had e to it by way of the ships in its harbor； and thousands were desperately sick。
Never had I visited it before。 It would have been too painful； and now as I came into Venice； I found it a city of gorgeous palaces built upon dark green canals。 But the Black Death had a hold of the populace who were dying in huge numbers daily； and ferries were taking the bodies out to be buried deeply in the soil of the islands in the city's immense lagoon。
Everywhere there was weeping and desolation。 People gathered together to die in sickrooms； faces covered in sweat； bodies tormented by incurable swellings。 The stench of the dead rose everywhere。 Some were trying to flee the city and its infestation。 Others remained with their suffering loved ones。
Never had I seen such a plague。 And yet it was amid a city of such remarkable splendor； I found myself numb with sorrow and tantalized by the beauty of the palaces； and by the wonder of the Church of San