anner.vittoriothevampire-第34章

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　Suddenly　the　entire　building　began　to　move。　It　trembled；　and　the　canvases；　brilliant　and　shimmering　in　their　bath　of　burning　light；　were　glittering　as　if　shaken　by　a　tremor　of　the　very　earth　itself。
　Mastema　appeared　suddenly　before　me；　and　the　room　was　swept　backward；　broadened；　deepened；　and　all　those　lesser　angels　were　swept　back　from　him　as　if　by　a　soundless　wind　that　cannot　be　defied。
　The　flood　of　light　ignited　his　immense　gold　wings　as　they　spread　out；　crowding　the　very　corners　of　the　vastness　and　pushing　it　even　to　greater　breadth；　and　the　red　of　his　helmet　glared　as　if　it　were　molten；　and　out　of　his　sheath；　he　drew　his　sword。
　I　backed　up。　I　forced　Ursula　behind　me。　I　pushed　her　back　against　the　damp　cold　wall　and　imprisoned　her　there；　behind　me；　as　safe　as　I　could　make　her　on　the　face　of　the　earth；　with　my　arms　stretched　back　to　hold　her　so　that　she　could　not；　must　not；　be　taken　away。
　〃Ah；〃　said　Mastema；　nodding；　smiling。　The　sword　was　uplifted。　〃So　even　now　you　would　go　into　Hell　rather　than　see　her　die！〃
　〃I　would！〃　I　cried。　〃I　have　no　choice。〃
　〃Oh；　yes；　you　have　a　choice。〃
　〃No；　not　her；　don't　kill　her。　Kill　me；　and　send　me　there；　yes；　but　give　her　one　more　chance。。。〃
　Ursula　cried　against　my　shoulders；　her　hands　clinging　to　my　hair；　catching　hold　of　it；　as　if　by　means　of　it　she'd　be　safe。
　〃Send　me　now；〃　I　said。　〃Go　ahead；　strike　off　my　head　and　send　me　to　my　judgment　before　the　Lord　that　I　may　beg　for　her！　Please；　Mastema；　do　it；　but　do　not　strike　her。　She　does　not　know　how　to　ask　to　be　forgiven。　Not　yet！〃
　Holding　the　sword　aloft；　he　reached　out　and　grabbed　my　collar　and　jerked　me　towards　him。　I　felt　her　fly　against　me。　He　held　me　beneath　his　face；　and　glowered　down　at　me　with　his　beaming　eyes。　〃And　when　will　she　learn；　and　when　will　you？〃
　What　could　I　say？　What　could　I　do？
　〃I　will　teach　you；　Vittorio；〃　said　Mastema　in　a　low；　seething　whisper。　〃I　will　teach　you　so　that　you　know　how　to　beg　forgiveness　every　night　of　your　life。　I　will　teach　you。〃
　I　felt　myself　lifted；　I　felt　my　garments　blown　by　the　wind；　I　felt　her　tiny　hands　clinging　to　me；　and　the　weight　of　her　head　on　my　back。
　Through　the　streets　we　were　being　dragged；　and　suddenly　there　appeared　before　us　a　great　crowd　of　idle　mortals　issuing　from　a　wine　shop；　drunken　and　laughing；　a　great　jumble　of　swollen；　natural　faces　and　dark　breeze…tossed　clothes。
　〃Do　you　see　them；　Vittorio？　Do　you　see　those　upon　whom　you　feed？〃　Mastema　demanded。
　〃I　see　them；　Mastema！〃　I　said。　I　groped　for　her　hand；　trying　to　find　her；　hold　her；　shield　her。　〃I　do　see　them；　I　do。〃
　〃In　each　and　every　one　of　them；　Vittorio；　there　is　what　I　see　in　you；　and　in　her　…　a　human　soul。　Do　you　know　what　that　is；　Vittorio？　Can　you　imagine？〃　I　didn't　dare　to　answer。
　The　crowd　spread　out　over　the　moonlighted　piazza；　and　drew　closer　to　us；　even　as　it　loosened。
　〃A　spark　of　the　power　that　made　all　of　us　is　within　each　of　them；〃　cried　Mastema；　〃a　spark　of　the　invisible；　of　the　subtle；　of　the　sacred；　of　the　mystery　…　a　spark　of　that　which　created　all　things。〃
　〃Ah；　God！〃　I　cried　out。　〃Look　at　them；　Ursula；　look！〃
　For　each　and　every　one　of　them；　man；　woman；　it　did　not　matter　old　or　young；　had　taken　on　a　powerful　hazy　golden　glow。　A　light　emanated　from　and　surrounded　and　embraced　each　figure；　a　subtle　body　of　light　shaped　to　the　very　form　of　the　human　being　who　walked　in　it；　unheeding　of　it；　and　the　entire　square　was　full　of　such　golden　light。
　I　looked　down　at　my　own　hands；　and　they　too　were　surrounded　by　this　subtle；　etheric　body；　this　lovely　gleaming　and　numinous　presence；　this　precious　and　unquenchable　fire。
　I　pivoted；　my　garments　snagging　around　me；　and　I　saw　this　flame　envelop　Ursula。　I　saw　her　living　and　breathing　within　it；　and；　turning　back　to　the　crowd；　I　saw　again　that　each　and　every　one　of　them　lived　and　breathed　in　it；　and　I　knew　suddenly；　understood　perfectly　…　I　would　always　see　it。　I　would　never　see　living　human　beings；　be　they　monstrous　or　righteous；　without　this　expanding；　blinding；　fire　of　the　soul。
　〃Yes；〃　Mastema　whispered　in　my　ear。　〃Yes。　Forever；　and　every　time　you　feed；　every　time　you　raise　one　of　their　tender　throats　to　your　cursed　fangs；　every　time　you　drink　from　them　the　lurid　blood　you　would　have；　like　the　worst　of　God's　beasts；　you　will　see　that　light　flicker　and　struggle；　and　when　the　heart　stops　at　the　will　of　your　hunger；　you　will　see　that　light　go　out！〃
　I　broke　away　from　him。　He　let　me　go。
　With　her　hand　only；　I　ran。　I　ran　and　ran　towards　the　Arno；　towards　the　bridge；　towards　the　taverns　that　might　still　be　open；　but　long　before　I　saw　the　blazing　flames　of　the　souls　there；　I　saw　the　glow　of　the　souls　from　hundreds　of　windows；　I　saw　the　glow　of　souls　from　beneath　the　bottoms　of　bolted　doors。
　I　saw　it；　and　I　knew　that　he　spoke　the　truth。　I　would　always　see　it。　I　would　see　the　spark　of　the　Creator　in　every　human　life　I　ever　encountered；　and　in　every　human　life　I　took。　Reaching　the　river；　I　leant　over　the　stone　railing。　I　cried　out　and　cried　out　and　let　my　cries　echo　over　the　water　and　up　the　walls　on　either　side。　I　was　mad　with　grief；　and　then　through　the　darkness　there　came　a　toddling　child　towards　me；　a　beggar；　already　versed　in　words　to　speak　for　bread　or　coins　or　any　bit　of　charity　that　any　man　would　vouchsafe　him；　and　he　glowed　and　sputtered　and　glittered　and　danced　with　brilliant　and　priceless　light。
　
　
　16
　AND　THE　DARKNESS　GRASPED　IT　NOT
　
　OVER　the　years；　every　time　I　saw　one　of　Fra　Filippo's　magnificent　creations；　the　angels　came　alive　for　me。　It　was　I　only　for　an　instant；　only　enough　to　prick　the　heart　and　draw　the　blood；　as　if　with　a　needle；　to　the　core。
　Mastema　himself　did　not　appear　in　Fra　Filippo's　work　until　some　years　later；　when　Fra　Filippo；　struggling　and　arguing　as　always；　was　working　for　Piero；　the　son　of　Cosimo；　who　had　gone　to　his　grave。
　Fra　Filippo　never　did　give　up　his　precious　nun；　Lucrezia　Buti；　and　it　was　said　of　Filippo　that　every　Virgin　he　ever　painted　…　and　there　were　many　…　bore　Lucrezia's　beautiful　face。　Lucrezia　gave　Fra　Filippo　a　son；　and　that　painter　took　the　name　Filippino；　and　his　work　too　was　rich　in　magnificence　and　rich　in　angels；　and　those　angels　too　have　always　for　one　instant　met　my　eyes　when　I　came　to　worship　before　those　canvases；　sad　and　brokenhearted　and　full　of　love　and　afraid。
　In　1469；　Filippo　died　in　the　town　of　Spoleto；　and　there　ended　the　life　of　one　of　the　greatest　painters　the　world　has　ever　known。　This　was　the　man　who　was　put　on　the　rack　for　fraud；　and　who　had　debauched　a　convent；　this　was　a　man　who　painted　Mary　as　the　frightened　Virgin；　as　the　Madonna　of　Christmas　Night；　as　the　Queen　of　Heaven；　as　the　Queen　of　All　Saints。
　And　I；　five　hundred　years　after；　have　never　strayed　too　far　from　that　city　which　gave　birth　to　Filippo　and　to　that　time　we　call　the　Age　of　Gold。　Gold。　That　is　what　I　see　when　I　look　at　you。
　That　is　what　I　see　when　I　look　at　any　man；　woman；　child。
　I　see　the　flaming　celestial　gold　that　Mastema　revealed　to　me。　I　see　it　surrounding　you；　and　holding　you；　encasing　you　and　dancing　with　you；　though　you　yourself　may　not　behold　it；　or　even　care。
　From　this　tower　tonight　in　Tuscany　I　look　out　over　the　land；　and　far　away；　deep　in　the　valleys；　I　see　the　gold　of　human　beings；　I　see　the　glowing　vitality　of　beating　souls。　So　you　have　my　story。　What　do　you　think？
　Do　you　not　see　a　strange　conflict　here？　Do　you　see　a　dilemma？　Let　me　put　it　to　you　this　way。
　Think　back　to　when　I　told　you　about　how　my　father　and　I　rode　through　the　woods　together　and　we　spoke　of　Fra　Filippo；　and　my　father　asked　me　what　it　was　that　drew　me　to　this　monk。　I　said　that　it　was　struggle　and　a　divided　nature　in　Filippo　which　so　attracted　me　to　him；　and　that　from　this　divided　nature；　this　conflict；　there　came　a　torment　to　the　faces　which　Filippo　rendered　in　paint。　Filippo　was　a　storm　unto　himself。　So　am　I。
　My　father；　a　man　of　calm　spirits　and　simpler　thoughts；　smiled　at　this。
　But　what　does　it　mean　in　relationship　to　this　tale？
　Yes；　I　am　a　vampire；　as　I　told　you；　I　am　a　thing　that　feeds　on　mortal　life。　I　exist　quietly；　contentedly　in　my　homeland；　in　the　dark　shadows　of　my　home　castle；　and　Ursula　is　with　me　as　always；　and　five　hundred　years　is　not　so　long　for　a　love　as　strong　as　ours。
　We　are　demons。　We　are　damned。　But　have　we　not　seen　and　understood　things；　have　I　not　written　things　here　that　are　of　value　to　you？　Have　I　not　rendered　a　conflict　so　full　of　torment　that　something　looms　here　which　is　full　of　brilliance　and　color；　not　unlike　Filippo's　work？　Have　I　not　embroidered；　interwoven　and　gilded；　have　I　not　bled？
　Look　at　my　story　and　tell　me　that　it　gives　you　nothing。　I　don't　believe　you　if　you　say　that。
　And　when　I　think　back　on　Filippo；　and　his　rape　of　Lucrezia；　and　all　his　other　tempestuous　sins；　how　can　I　separate　them　from　the　magnificence　of　his　paintings？　How　can　I　separate　the　violation　of　his　vows；　and　his　deceits　and　his　quarrels；　from　the　splendor　which　Filippo　gave　to　the　world？
　I　am　not　saying　I　am　a　great　painter。　I　am　not　such　a　fool。　But　I　say　that　out　of　my　pain；　out　of　my　folly；　out　of　my　passion　there　es　a　vision　…　a　vision　which　I　carry　with　me　eternally　and　which　I　offer　to　you。
　It　is　a　vision　of　every　human　being；　bursting　with　fire　and　with　mystery；　a　vision　I　cannot　deny；　nor　blot　out；　nor　ever　turn　away　from；　nor　ever　belittle　nor　ever　escape。　Others　write　of　doubt　and　darkness。　Others　write　of　meaninglessness　and　quiet。
　I　write　of　indefinable　and　celestial　gold　that　will　forever　burn　bright。
　I　write　of　blood　thirst　that　is　never　satisfied。　I　write　of　knowledge　and　its　price。
　Behold；　I　tell　you；　the　light　is　there　in　you。　I　see　it。　I　see　it　in　each　and　every　one　of　us；　and　will　always。　I　see　it　when　I　hunger；　when　I　struggle；　when　I　slaughter。　I　see　it　sputter　and　die　in　my　arms　when　I　drink。
　Can　you　imagine　what　it　would　be　like　for　me　to　kill　you？
　Pray　it　never　takes　a　slaughter　or　a　rape　for　you　to　see　this　light　in　those　around　you。　God　forbid　it　that　it　should　demand　such　a　price。　Let　me　pay　the　price　for　you　instead。
　
　THE　END
　
　
　SELECTED　AND　ANNOTATED　BIBLIOGRAPHY

　I　went　to　Florence　to　receive　this　manuscript　directly　from　Vittorio　di　Raniari。　It　was　my　fourth　visit　to　the　city；　and　it　was　with　Vittorio　that　I　decided　to　list　here　a　few　books　for　those　of　you　who　might　want　to　know　more　about　the　Age　of　Gold　in　Florence　and　about　Florence　itself。
　Let　me　remend　first　and　foremost；　and　above　all　others；　the　brilliant　Public　Life　in　Renaissance　Florence　by　Richard　C。　Trexler；　published　today　by　Cornell　University　Press。
　Professor　Trexler　has　also　written　other　wonderful　books　on　Italy；　but　this　book　is　a　particularly　rich　and　inspiring　one；　especially　for　me；　because　Professor　Trexler's　analyses　and　insights　regarding　Florence　have　helped　me　to　understand　my　own　city　of　New　Orleans；　Louisiana；　better　than　anything　directly　written　by　anyone　about　New　Orleans　itself。
　New　Orleans；　like　Florence；　is　a　city　of　public　spectacles；　rituals　and　feast　days；　of　demonstrations　of　munal　celebration　and　belief。　It　is　almost　impossible　to　realistically　explain　New　Orleans；　and　its　Mardi　Gras；　its　St。　Patrick's　Day　and　its　annual　Jazz　Fest；　to　those　who　have　not　been　here。　Professor　Tre