anner.vittoriothevampire-第6部分

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　But　he　had　ended　up　loyal　to　Florence；　even　became　a　citizen；　and　when　he　departed　this　earth；　they　gave　him　a　splendid　monument　in　the　Cathedral！　Ah；　such　an　age！
　I　think　it　was　a　really　good　time　to　be　a　soldier；　you　know；　to　sort　of　pick　and　choose　where　you　would　fight；　and　get　as　carried　away　with　it　all　as　you　wanted　to。
　But　it　was　also　a　very　good　time　for　reading　poetry；　and　for　looking　at　paintings　and　for　living　in　utter　fort　and　security　behind　ancestral　walls；　or　wandering　the　thriving　streets　of　prosperous　cities。　If　you　had　any　education　at　all；　you　could　choose　what　you　wanted　to　do。
　And　it　was　also　a　time　to　be　very　careful。　Lords　such　as　my　father　did　go　down　to　destruction　in　these　wars。　Mountainous　regions　that　had　been　free　and　pretty　much　left　alone　could　be　invaded　and　destroyed。　It　happened　now　and　then　that　someone　who　had　pretty　much　stayed　out　of　things　got　himself　worked　up　against　Florence　and　in　came　the　clattering　and　clanking　mercenaries　to　level　everything。
　By　the　way；　Sforza　won　the　war　with　Milan；　and　part　of　the　reason　was　that　Cosimo　lent　him　the　required　money。　What　happened　after　that　was　absolute　mayhem。
　Well；　I　could　go　on　describing　this　wonderland　of　Tuscany　forever。
　It　is　chilling　and　saddening　for　me　to　try　to　imagine　what　might　have　bee　of　my　family　had　evil　not　befallen　us。　I　cannot　see　my　father　old；　or　imagine　myself　struggling　as　an　elderly　man；　or　envision　my　sister　married；　as　I　hoped；　to　a　city　aristocrat　rather　than　a　country　baron。
　It　is　a　horror　and　a　joy　to　me　that　there　are　villages　and　hamlets　in　these　very　mountains　which　have　from　that　time　never　died　out　…　never　…　surviving　through　the　worst　of　even　modern　war；　to　thrive　still　with　tiny　cobbled　market　streets　and　pots　of　red　geraniums　in　their　windows。　There　are　castles　which　survive　everywhere；　enlivened　by　generation　after　generation。　Here　there　is　darkness。　Here　is　Vittorio　writing　by　the　light　of　the　stars。
　Brambles　and　wild　scratching　things　inhabit　the　chapel　below；　where　the　paintings　are　still　visible　to　no　one　and　the　sacred　relics　of　the　consecrated　altar　stone　are　beneath　heaps　of　dust。
　Ah；　but　those　thorns　protect　what　remains　of　my　home。　I　have　let　them　grow。　I　have　allowed　the　roads　to　vanish　in　the　forest　or　broken　them　myself。　I　must　have　something　of　what　there　was！　I　must。
　But　I　accuse　myself　again　of　going　on　and　on；　and　I　do；　there　is　no　doubt。　This　chapter　ought　to　be　over。
　But　it's　very　like　the　little　plays　we　used　to　do　in　my　uncle's　house；　or　those　I　saw　before　the　Duomo　in　Cosimo's　Florence。　There　must　be　painted　backdrops；　props　of　fine　detail；　wires　rigged　for　flight　and　costumes　cut　out　and　sewn　before　I　can　put　my　players　on　the　boards　and　tell　the　fable　of　my　making。
　I　can't　help　it。　Let　me　close　my　essay　on　the　glories　of　the　1400s　by　saying　what　the　great　alchemist　Ficino　would　say　of　it　some　years　later　on：　It　was　〃an　age　of　gold。〃　I　go　now　to　the　tragic　moment。
　
　
　3
　IN　WHICH　THE　HORROR　DESCENDS　UPON　US
　
　THE　beginning　of　the　end　came　the　following　spring。　I　had　passed　my　sixteenth　birthday；　which　had　fallen　that　I　year　on　the　very　Tuesday　before　Lent；　when　we　and　all　the　villages　were　celebrating　Carnival。　It　had　e　rather　early　that　year；　so　it　was　a　bit　cold；　but　it　was　a　gay　time。
　It　was　on　that　night　before　Ash　Wednesday　that　I　had　the　terrible　dream　in　which　I　saw　myself　holding　the　severed　heads　of　my　brother　and　my　sister。　I　woke　up　in　a　sweat；　horrified　by　this　dream。　I　wrote　it　down　in　my　book　of　dreams。　And　then　actually　I　forgot　about　it。　That　was　mon　with　me；　only　it　had　been　truly　the　most　horrid　nightmare　I'd　ever　had。　But　when　I　mentioned　my　occasional　nightmares　to　my　mother　or　father　or　anyone　else；　they　always　said：
　〃Vittorio；　it's　your　own　fault　for　reading　the　books　you　read。　You　bring　it　on　yourself。〃　To　repeat；　the　dream　was　forgotten。　The　country　was　by　Easter　in　great　flower；　and　the　first　warnings　of　horror　to　e；　though　I　knew　them　not　to　be；　were　that　the　lower　hamlets　on　our　mountain　were　quite　suddenly　abandoned。
　My　father　and　I　and　two　of　the　huntsmen　and　a　gamekeeper　and　a　soldier　rode　down　to　see　for　ourselves　that　the　peasants　in　those　parts　had　departed；　some　time　before　in　fact；　and　taken　the　livestock　with　them。
　It　was　eerie　to　see　those　deserted　towns；　small　as　they　were　and　as　insignificant。
　We　rode　back　up　the　mountain　as　a　warm　embracing　darkness　surrounded　us；　yet　we　found　all　the　other　villages　we　passed　battened　down　with　hardly　a　seam　of　light　showing　through　the　chinks　of　a　shutter；　or　a　tiny　stem　of　reddened　smoke　rising　from　a　chimney。
　Of　course　my　father's　old　clerk　went　into　a　rant　that　the　vassals　should　be　found；　beaten；　made　to　work　the　land。
　My　father；　benevolent　as　always　and　pletely　calm；　sat　at　his　desk　in　the　candlelight；　leaning　on　his　elbow；　and　said　that　these　had　all　been　free　men；　they　were　not　bound　to　him；　if　they　did　not　choose　to　live　on　his　mountain。　This　was　the　way　of　the　modern　world；　only　he　wished　he　knew　what　was　afoot　in　our　land。
　Quite　suddenly；　he　took　notice　of　me　standing　and　observing　him；　as　if　he　hadn't　seen　me　before；　and　he　broke　off　the　conference；　dismissing　the　whole　affair。　I　thought　nothing　much　about　it。　But　in　the　days　that　followed；　some　of　the　villagers　from　the　lower　slopes　came　up　to　live　within　the　walls。　There　were　conferences　in　my　father's　chambers。　I　heard　arguments　behind　closed　doors；　and　one　night；　at　supper；　all　sat　entirely　too　somber　for　our　family；　and　finally　my　father　rose　from　his　massive　chair；　the　Lord　in　the　center　of　the　table　as　always；　and　declared；　as　if　he'd　been　silently　accused：
　〃I　will　not　persecute　some　old　women　because　they　have　stuck　pins　in　wax　dolls　and　burnt　incense　and　read　foolish　incantations　that　mean　nothing。　These　old　witches　have　been　on　our　mountain　forever。〃
　My　mother　looked　truly　alarmed；　and　then　gathering　us　all　up　…　I　was　most　unwilling　…　she　took　us　away；　Bartola；　Matteo　and　me；　and　told　us　to　go　to　bed　early。　〃Don't　stay　up　reading；　Vittorio；〃　she　said。　〃But　what　did　Father　mean？〃　asked　Bartola。
　〃Oh；　it's　the　old　village　witches；〃　I　said。　I　used　the　Italian　word　strega。　〃Every　now　and　then；　one　goes　too　far；　there's　a　fight；　but　mostly　it's　just　charms　to　cure　a　fever　and　such。〃
　I　thought　my　mother　would　hush　me　up；　but　she　stood　in　the　narrow　stone　stairs　of　the　tower　looking　up　at　me　with　marked　relief　on　her　face；　and　she　said：
　〃Yes；　yes；　Vittorio；　you　are　so　right。　In　Florence；　people　laugh　at　those　old　women。　You　know　Gattena　yourself；　she　never　really　did　more　then　sell　love　potions　to　the　girls。〃
　〃Surely　we're　not　to　drag　her　before　a　court！〃　I　said；　very　happy　that　she　was　paying　attention。　Bartola　and　Matteo　were　rapt。
　〃No；　no；　not　Gattena；　certainly　not。　Gattena's　vanished。　Run　off。〃
　〃Gattena？〃　I　asked；　and　then　as　my　mother　turned　away；　refusing；　it　seemed；　to　say　another　word；　gesturing　for　me　to　escort　my　sister　and　brother　safely　to　bed；　I　realized　the　gravity　of　this。
　Gattena　was　the　most　feared　and　ical　of　the　old　witches；　and　if　she　had　run　off；　if　she　was　afraid　of　something；　well；　that　was　news；　because　she　thought　herself　the　one　to　be　feared。
　The　following　days　were　fresh　and　lovely　and　undisturbed　by　anything　for　me　and　my　Bartola　and　Matteo；　but　when　I　looked　back　later；　I　recalled　there　was　much　going　on。
　One　afternoon；　I　went　up　to　the　highest　lookout　window　of　the　old　tower　where　one　guardsman；　Tori；　we　called　him；　was　falling　asleep；　and　I　looked　down　over　all　our　land　for　as　far　as　I　could　see。　〃Well；　you　won't　find　it；〃　he　said。　〃What's　that？〃　I　remarked。
　〃Smoke　from　a　single　hearth。　There　is　no　more。〃　He　yawned　and　leaned　against　the　wall；　heavily　weighed　down　by　his　old　boiled…leather　jerkin；　and　sword。　〃All's　well；〃　he　said；　and　yawned　again。　〃So　they　like　city　life；　or　to　fight　for　Francesco　Sforza　over　the　Duchy　of　Milan；　so　let　them　go。　They　didn't　know　how　good　they　had　it。〃
　I　turned　away　from　him　and　looked　over　the　woods　again；　and　down　into　the　valleys　that　I　could　see；　and　beyond　to　the　slightly　misty　blue　sky。　It　was　true；　the　little　hamlets　seemed　frozen　in　time　down　there；　but　how　could　one　be　so