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h sorrow and tantalized by the beauty of the palaces； and by the wonder of the Church of San Marco which bore exquisite testament to the city's ties with Byzantium to which it sent its many merchant ships。
I could do nothing but weep in such a place。 It was no time for peering by torchlight at paintings or statues that were wholly new to me。 I had to depart； out of respect for the dying； no matter what I was。
And so I made my way South to another city which I had not known in my mortal life； the city of Florence in the heart of Tuscany； a beautiful and fertile land。
Understand； I was avoiding Rome at this point。 I could not bear to see my home； once more in ruin and misery。 I could not see Rome visited by this plague。
So Florence was my choice； as I have said…a city new to me； and prosperous； though not as rich as Venice perhaps； and not as beautiful； though full of huge palaces and paved streets。
And what did I find； but the same dreadful pestilence。 Vicious bullies demanded payment to remove the bodies； often beating the dying or those who tried to tend them。 Six to eight corpses lay at the doors of various houses。 The priests came and went by torchlight； trying to give the Last Rites。 And everywhere the same stench as in Venice； the stench that says all is ing to an end。
Weary and miserable； I made my way into a church； somewhere near the center of Florence； though I cannot say what church it was； and I stood against the wall； gazing at the distant tabernacle by candlelight； wondering as so many praying mortals wondered： What would bee of this world？
I had seen Christians persecuted； I had seen barbarians sack cities； I had seen East and West quarrel and finally break with each other； I had seen Islamic soldiers waging their holy war against the infidel； and now I had seen this disease which was moving all through the world。
And such a world； for surely it had changed since the year when I had fled Constantinople。 The cities of Europe had grown full and rich as flowers。 The barbarian hordes had bee settled people。 Byzantium still held the cities of the East together。
And now this dreadful scourge…this plague。
Why had I remained alive； I wondered？ Why must I endure as the witness to all these many tragic and wonderful things？ What was I to make of what I beheld？
And yet； even in my sorrow； I found the church beautiful with its myriad lighted candles； and spying a bit of color far ahead of me； in one of the chapels to the right side of the high altar； I made my way towards it； knowing full well that I would find rich paintings there； for I could see something of them already。
None of those ardently praying in the church took any notice of me； a single being in a red velvet hooded cloak； moving silently and swiftly to the open chapel so that I might see what was painted there。
Oh； if only the candles had been brighter。 If only I had dared to light a torch。 But I had the eyes of a blood drinker； didn't I？ Why plain？ And in this chapel I saw painted figures unlike any I had seen before。 They were religious； yes； and they were severe； yes； and they were pious； yes； but something new had been sparked here； something that one might almost call sublime。
A mixture of elements had been forged。 And I felt a great joy even in my sorrow； until I heard a low voice behind me； a mortal voice。 It was speaking so softly that I doubt another mortal would even have heard。
〃He's dead；〃 said the mortal。 〃They're all dead； all the painters who did this work。〃
I was shocked with pain。
〃The plague took them；〃 said this man。
He was a hooded figure as I was； only his cloak was of a dark color； and he looked at me with bright feverish eyes。
〃Don't fear；〃 he said。 〃I've suffered it and it hasn't killed me and I can't pass it on； don't you see？ But they're all dead； those painters。 They're gone。 The plague's taken them and all they knew。〃
〃And you？ 〃 I asked。 〃Are you a painter？ 〃
He nodded。 〃They were my teachers；〃 he said as he gestured towards the walls。 〃This is our work； unfinished；〃 he said。 〃I can't do it alone。〃
〃You must do it；〃 I said。 I reached into my purse。 I took out several gold coins； and I gave them to him。
〃You think this will help？〃 he asked； dejectedly。
〃It's all I have to give；〃 I said。 〃Maybe it can buy you privacy and quiet。 And you can begin to paint again。〃
I turned to go。
〃Don't leave me；〃 he said suddenly。
I turned around and looked at him。 His gaze was level with mine and very insistent。
〃Everyone's dying and you and I are not dying；〃 he said。 〃Don't go。 e with me； have a drink of wine with me。 Stay with me。〃
〃I can't；〃 I said。 I was trembling。 I was too charmed by him； much too much。 I was so close to killing him。 〃I would stay with you if I could；〃 I said。
And then I left the city of Florence； and I returned to the vault of Those Who Must Be Kept。
I lay down again for a long sleep； feeling the coward that I had not gone to Rome； and thankful that I had not drunk dry the blood of the exquisite soul who had approached me in the church。
But something had been forever changed in me。
In the church in Florence I had glimpsed new paintings。 I had glimpsed something which filled me with hope。
Let the plague run its course； I prayed； and I closed my eyes。
And the plague did finally die out。
All the voices of Europe sang。
They sang of the new cities； and great victories； and terrible defeats。 Everything in Europe was being transformed。 merce and prosperity bred art and culture； as the royal courts and cathedrals and monasteries of the recent past had done。
They sang of a man named Gutenberg in the city of Mainz who had invented a printing press which could make cheap books by the hundreds。 mon people could own their own copies of Sacred Scripture； books of the Holy Hours； books of ic stories and pretty poems。 All over Europe new printing presses were being built。
They sang of the tragic fall of Constantinople to the invincible Turkish army。 But the proud cities of the West no longer depended upon the far…away Greek Empire to protect them。 The lament for Constantinople went unheeded。
Italy； my Italy； was illuminated by the glory of Venice and Florence and Rome。
It was time now for me to leave this vault。
I roused myself from my excited dreams。
It was time for me to see this world which marked its time as the year after Christ 1482。
Why I chose that year I am uncertain except perhaps that the voices of Venice and Florence called me most eloquently； and I had earlier beheld these cities in their tribulation and grief。 I wanted desperately to see them in their splendor。
But I must go home first； all the way South to Rome。
So lighting the oil lamps once more for my beloved Parents； wiping the dust from their ornaments and their fragile robes； praying to them as I always did； I took my leave to enter one of the most exciting times which the Western world had ever seen。
14
I WENT TO ROME。 I could settle for nothing less。 What I found there was to sting my heart； but also to