anner.vittoriothevampire-第2章

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I　didn't　have　so　much　thick　brown　hair；　making　as　it　does　a　curly；　wavy　frame　for　the　whole　picture。　My　chin　is　slightly　too　strong；　too　squared　off　for　the　rest。　I　have　a　dimple　in　it。
　My　body　is　overmuscular；　strong；　broad…chested；　my　arms　powerful；　giving　an　impression　of　manly　power。　This　rather　rescues　my　obdurate…looking　jaw　and　allows　to　me　to　pass　for　a　full…fledged　man；　at　least　from　a　distance。
　This　well…developed　physique　I　owe　to　tremendous　practice　with　a　heavy　battle　sword　in　the　last　years　of　my　life；　and　ferocious　hunting　with　my　falcons　in　the　mountains；　up　and　down　which　I　ran　often　on　foot；　though　I　had　already　four　horses　of　my　own　by　that　age；　including　one　of　that　special　majestic　breed　made　to　support　my　weight　when　I　wore　my　full　suit　of　armor。
　My　armor　is　still　buried　beneath　this　tower。　I　never　used　it　in　battle。　Italy　was　seething　with　war　in　my　time；　but　all　of　the　battles　of　the　Florentines　were　being　fought　by　mercenaries。
　All　my　father　had　to　do　was　declare　his　absolute　loyalty　to　Cosimo；　and　let　no　one　representing　the　Holy　Roman　Empire；　the　Duke　of　Milan　or　the　Pope　in　Rome　move　troops　through　our　mountain　passes　or　stop　in　our　villages。
　We　were　out　of　the　way。　It　was　no　problem。　Enterprising　ancestors　had　built　our　castle　three　hundred　years　before。　We　went　back　to　the　time　of　the　Lombards；　or　those　barbarians　who　had　e　down　from　the　North　into　Italy；　and　I　think　we　had　their　blood　in　us。　But　who　knows？　Since　the　Fall　of　ancient　Rome；　so　many　tribes　had　invaded　Italy。
　We　had　interesting　pagan　relics　lying　about；　alien　tombstones　most　ancient　were　sometimes　found　in　the　fields；　and　funny　little　stone　goddesses　which　the　peasants　still　cherished　if　we　didn't　confiscate　them。　Beneath　our　towers　were　vaults　that　some　said　went　back　to　the　days　even　before　the　Birth　of　Christ；　and　I　know　now　that　is　true。　These　places　belonged　to　the　people　known　to　history　as　the　Etruscans。
　Our　household；　being　of　the　old　feudal　style；　scorning　trade　and　requiring　of　its　men　that　they　be　bold　and　brave；　was　full　of　treasure　acquired　through　wars　without　count　or　record　…　that　is；　old　silver　and　gold　candelabra　and　sconces；　heavy　chests　of　wood　with　Byzantine　designs　encrusted　on　them；　the　usual　Flemish　tapestries；　and　tons　of　lace；　and　bed　hangings　hand…trimmed　with　gilt　and　gems；　and　all　of　the　most　desirable　finery。
　My　father；　admiring　the　Medici　as　he　did；　bought　up　all　kinds　of　luxury　items　on　his　trips　to　Florence。　There　was　little　bare　stone　in　any　important　room；　because　flowered　wool　carpets　covered　all；　and　every　hallway　or　alcove　had　its　own　towering　armoire　filled　with　rattling；　rusting　battle　dress　of　heroes　whose　names　nobody　even　remembered。
　We　were　incalculably　rich：　this　I　had　more　or　less　overheard　as　a　child；　and　there　was　some　hint　that　it　had　to　do　as　much　with　valor　in　war　as　with　secret　pagan　treasure。　There　had　been　centuries　of　course　when　our　family　had　warred　with　other　hill　towns　and　forts；　when　castle　besieged　castle　and　walls　were　ripped　down　as　soon　as　they　were　built；　and　out　of　the　city　of　Florence　had　gone　the　ever　quarreling　and　murderous　Guelfs　and　Ghibellines。
　The　old　mune　of　Florence　had　sent　armies　to　tear　down　castles　like　ours　and　reduce　any　threatening　Lord　to　nothingness。　But　that　time　was　long　over。
　We　had　survived　due　to　cleverness　and　good　choices；　and　also　because　we　were　much　off　to　ourselves；　in　high　craggy　uninviting　country；　crowning　a　true　mountain；　as　this　is　where　the　Alps　e　down　into　Tuscany；　and　those　castles　most　near　to　us　were　abandoned　ruins。
　Our　nearest　neighbor　did　rule　his　own　mountain　enclave　of　villages　in　loyalty　to　the　Duke　of　Milan。
　But　he　didn't　bother　with　us　or　we　him。　It　was　a　remote　political　matter。
　Our　walls　were　thirty　feet　high；　immensely　thick；　older　than　the　castle　and　keeps；　old　indeed　beyond　anyone's　most　romantic　tales　and　constantly　being　thickened　and　repaired；　and　inside　the　pound　there　existed　three　little　villages　busy　with　good　vineyards　that　yielded　marvelous　red　wine；　prosperous　beehives；　blackberries；　and　wheat　and　the　like；　with　plenty　of　chickens　and　cows；　and　enormous　stables　for　our　horses。
　I　never　knew　how　many　people　labored　in　our　little　world。　The　house　was　full　of　clerks　who　took　care　of　such　things；　and　very　seldom　did　my　father　sit　in　judgment　on　any　sort　of　case　himself　or　was　there　cause　to　go　to　the　courts　of　Florence。
　Our　church　was　the　designated　church　for　all　the　country　round；　so　that　those　few　who　lived　in　less　protected　little　hamlets　down　the　mountain　…　and　there　were　plenty　…　came　to　us　for　their　baptisms；　and　marriages；　and　such；　and　we　had　for　long　periods　of　time　within　our　walls　a　Dominican　priest　who　said　Mass　for　us　every　morning。
　In　olden　times；　the　forest　had　been　severely　cut　down　on　our　mountain　so　that　no　invading　enemy　could　make　his　way　up　the　slopes；　but　by　my　time　no　such　protection　was　necessary。
　The　woods　had　grown　back　full　and　sweet　in　some　gullies　and　over　old　paths；　even　as　wild　as　it　is　now；　and　almost　up　to　the　walls。　One　could　make　out　clearly　from　our　towers　a　dozen　or　so　small　towns　descending　to　the　valleys；　with　their　little　quilts　of　tilled　fields；　orchards　of　olive　trees　and　vineyards。　They　were　all　under　our　governance　and　loyal　to　us。　If　there　had　been　any　war　they　would　have　e　running　to　our　gates　as　their　ancestors　had　done；　and　rightly　so。
　There　were　market　days；　village　festivals；　saints'　days；　and　a　little　alchemy　now　and　then；　and　occasionally　even　a　local　miracle。　It　was　a　good　land；　ours。
　Visiting　clerics　always　stayed　a　long　time。　It　wasn't　unmon　to　have　two　or　three　priests　in　various　towers　of　the　castle　or　in　the　lower；　newer；　more　modern　stone　buildings。　I　had　been　taken　to　Florence　to　be　educated　when　I　was　very　small；　living　in　deluxe　and　invigorating　style　in　the　palazzo　of　my　mother's　uncle；　who　died　before　I　was　thirteen；　and　it　was　then　…　when　the　house　was　closed　…　that　I　was　brought　home；　with　two　elderly　aunts；　and　after　that　only　visited　Florence　on　occasion。
　My　father　was　still　at　heart　an　old…fashioned　man；　instinctively　an　indomitable　Lord；　though　he　was　content　to　keep　his　distance　from　the　power　struggles　of　the　capital；　to　have　huge　accounts　in　the　Medici　banks　and　to　live　an　old…style　courtly　life　in　his　own　domain；　visiting　Cosimo　de'　Medici　himself　when　he　did　journey　into　Florence　on　business。
　But　when　it　came　to　his　son；　my　father　wanted　that　I　should　be　reared　as　a　prince；　a　padrone；　a　knight；　and　I　had　to　learn　all　the　skills　and　values　of　a　knight；　and　at　thirteen；　I　could　ride　in　full　battle　dress；　my　helmeted　head　bowed；　at　full　speed　with　my　spear　thrust　towards　the　straw…filled　target。　I　had　no　difficulty　with　it。　It　was　as　much　fun　as　hunting；　or　swimming　in　mountain　streams；　or　having　horse　races　with　the　village　boys。　I　took　to　it　without　rebellion。
　I　was；　however；　a　divided　being。　The　mental　part　of　me　had　been　nourished　in　Florence　by　excellent　teachers　of　Latin；　Greek；　philosophy　and　theology；　and　I　had　been　deep　into　the　boys'　pageants　and　plays　of　the　city；　often　taking　the　leading　parts　in　the　dramas　presented　by　my　own　Confraternity　in　my　uncle's　house；　and　I　knew　how　to　solemnly　portray　the　Biblical　Isaac　about　to　be　sacrificed　by　the　obedient　Abraham；　as　well　as　the　charming　Angel　Gabriel　discovered　by　a　suspicious　St。　Joseph　with　his　Virgin　Mary。
　I　pined　for　all　that　now　and　then；　the　books；　the　lectures　in　the　Cathedrals　to　which　I'd　listened　with　precocious　interest；　and　the　lovely　nights　in　my　uncle's　Florentine　house　when　I'd　fallen　asleep　to　the　sounds　of　spectacular　opera　extravaganzas；　my　mind　brim　full　of　the　dazzle　of　miraculous　figures　swooping　down　on　wires；　lutes　and　drums　playing　wildly；　dancers　frolicking　almost　like　acrobats　and　voices　soaring　beautifully　in　unison。
　It　had　been　an　easy　childhood。　And　in　the　boys'　Confraternity　to　which　I　belonged；　I'd　met　the　poorer　children　of　Florence；　the　sons　of　the　merchants；　orphans　and　boys　from　the　monasteries　and　schools；　because　that　is　the　way　it　was　in　my　time　for　a　landed　Lord。　You　had　to　mix　with　the　people。
　I　think　I　crept　out　of　the　house　a　lot　as　a　small　child；　easily　as　much　as　I　slipped　out　of　the　castle　later。　I　remember　too　much　of　the　festivals　and　saints'　days　and　processions　of　Florence　for　a　disciplined　child　to　have　seen。　I　was　too　often　slipping　in　and　out　of　the　crowd；　looking　at　the　spectacularly　decorated　floats　in　honor　of　the　saints；　and　marveling　at　the　solemnity　of　those　in　silent　ranks　who　carried　candles　and　walked　very　slowly　as　if　they　were　in　a　trance　of　devotion。
　Yes；　I　must　have　been　a　scamp。　I　know　I　was。　I　went　out　by　the　kitchen。　I　bribed　the　servants。　I　had　too　many　friends　who　were　out…and…out　routies　or　beasties。　I　got　into　mayhem　and　then　ran　home。　We　played　ball　games　and　had　battles　in　the　piazzas；　and　the　priests　ran　us　off　with　switches　and　threats。　I　was　good　and　bad；　but　not　ever　really　wicked。
　When　I　died　to　this　world；　at　the　age　of　sixteen；　I　never　looked　on　a　daylighted　street　again；　not　in　Florence　or　anywhere。　Well；　I　saw　the　best　of　it；　that　I　can　say。　I　can　envisage　with　no　difficulty　the　spectacle　of　the　Feast　of　St。　John；　when　every　single　solitary　shop　in　Florence　had　to　put　out　front　all　of　its　costly　wares；　and　monks　and　friars　sang　the　sweetest　hymns　on　their　way　to　the　Cathedral　to　give　thanks　to　God　for　the　blessed　prosperity　of　the　city。
　I　could　go　on。　There　is　no　end　to　the　praise　one　can　heap　upon　the　Florence　of　those　times；　for　she　was　a　city　of　men　who　worked　at　trades　and　business　yet　made　the　greatest　art；　of　sharp　politicians　and　true　raving　saints；　of　deep…souled　poets　and　the　most　audacious　scoundrels。　I　think　Florence　knew　many　things　by　that　time　that　would　only　much　later　be　learnt　in　France　and　England；　and　which　are　not　known　in　some　countries　to　this　day。　Two　things　were　true。　Cosimo　was　the　most　powerful　man　in　all　the　world。　And　the　people；　and　only　the　people；　ruled　Florence　then　and　forever。
　But　back　to　the　castle。　I　kept　up　my　reading　and　studies　at　home；　switching　from　knight　to　scholar　in　a　twinkling。　If　there　was　any　shadow　on　my　life；　it　was　that　at　sixteen　I　was　old　enough　to　go　to　a　real　university；　and　I　knew　it；　and　I　sort　of　wanted　to　do　it；　but　then　again；　I　was　raising　new　hawks；　training　them　myself　and　hunting　with　them；　and　the　country　round　was　irresistible。
　By　this　age　of　sixteen；　I　was　considered　bookish　by　the　clan　of　elder　kinsmen　who　gathered　at　the　table　every　night；　my　parents'　uncles　mostly；　and　all　very　much　of　a　former　time　when　〃bankers　had　not　run　the　world；〃　who　had　marvelous　tales　to　tell　of　the　Crusades；　to　which　they　had　gone　when　they　were　young；　and　of　what　they　had　seen　at　the　fierce　battle　of　Acre；　or　fighting　on　the　island　of　Cyprus　or　Rhodes；　and　what　life　had　been　like　at　sea；　and　in　many　exotic　ports　where　they　had　been　the　terror　of　the　taverns　and　the　women。
　My　mother　was　spirited　and　beautiful；　with　brown　hair　and　very　green　eyes；　and　she　adored　country　life；　but　she'd　never　known　Florence　except　from　the　inside　of　a　convent。　She　thought　there　was　something　seriously　wrong　with　me　that　I　wanted　to　read　Dante's　poetry　and　write　so　much　of　my　own。
　She　lived　for　no