cb.coldheart canyon-第7部分

快捷操作: 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! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　host　of　black　birds　with　human　heads　rose　up　from　the　ground；　circling　a　girl…child　who　was　either　their　invoker　or　their　victim。　In　a　third　house　a　woman　was　squatting　and　shedding　menstrual　blood　through　a　hole　in　the　floor。　Several　men；　smaller　than　the　woman　above　by　half；　were　swimming　in　the　water　below　and　undergoing　some　calamitous　transformation；　presumably　brought　on　by　the　menses。　Their　heads　had　flowered　into　dark；　monstrous　shapes；　demonic　tails　had　sprouted　from　their　backsides。
　 As　Father　Sandru　had　warned　（or　was　it　boasted？）　to　Zeffer；　there　was　no　part　of　the　landscape　depicted　there　on　the　walls　that　was　not　haunted　by　some　bizarre　sight　or　other。　Even　the　clouds　（innocent　enough；　surely）　shat　rains　of　fire　in　one　place；　and　evacuated　skulls　in　another。　Demons　cavorted　unchallenged　over　the　open　sky；　like　dancers　possessed　by　some　celestial　music；　while　stars　fell　between　them；　others　rose　over　the　horizon；　leering　like　emaciated　fools。　And　in　that　same　sky；　as　though　to　suggest　that　this　was　a　world　of　perpetual　twilight；　teetering　always　on　the　edge　of　darkness　and　extinction；　was　a　sun　that　was　three…quarters　eclipsed　by　an　exquisitely　rendered　moon；　the　latter　painted　so　cunningly　it　seemed　to　have　real　mass；　real　roundness；　as　it　slid　over　the　face　of　the　day…star。
　 In　one　place　there　was　painted　a　line　of　crowned　figures…the　kings　and　queens　of　Romania；　back　to　ancient　times…painted　marching　into　the　ground。　The　noble　line　rotted　as　it　proceeded　into　the　earth；　carrion　birds　alighting　on　the　descending　lineage；　plucking　out　regal　eyes　and　law…giving　tongues。　In　another　place　a　circle　of　witches　rose　in　a　spiral　from　a　spot　marked　by　standing…stones；　their　innocent　victims；　babies　whose　fat　had　been　used　to　make　the　flying　ointment　in　which　they　had　slathered　themselves；　lay　scattered　between　the　stones　like　neglected　dolls。
　 And　all　through　this　world　of　monstrous　hurts　and　occasional　miracles；　the　Hunt。
　 Many　of　the　scenes　were　simply　documents　of　the　vigorous　beauty　of　the　chase；　they　looked　as　though　they　could　have　been　painted　from　life。　There　was　a　pack　of　dogs；　white　and　black　and　pie…bald　（one　bitch　charmingly　attending　to　her　suckling　pups）；　some　being　muzzled　by　peasants；　others　straining　on　their　leashes　as　they　were　led　away　to　join　the　great　assembly　of　hunters。　Elsewhere；　the　dogs　could　be　seen　acpanying　the　hunters。　Where　the　Duke　had　chosen　to　kneel　and　pray；　a　white　dog　knelt　beside　him；　his　noble　head　bowed　by　the　weight　of　shared　devotion。　In　another；　the　dogs　were　splashing　in　a　river；　attempting　to　catch　the　huge　salmon　outlined　in　the　stylized　blue　waters。　And　in　a　third　place；　for　no　apparent　reason　but　the　playfulness　of　the　artists；　the　role　of　dogs　and　men　had　been　reversed。　A　long；　beautiful　decorated　table　had　been　set　up　in　a　clearing　amongst　the　trees；　and　at　it　sat　a　number　of　finely…bred　dogs；　while　at　their　booted　feet　naked　men　fought　over　scraps　and　bones。　Closer　examination　showed　the　arrangement　of　figures　to　be　even　more　anarchic　than　it　first　appeared；　for　there　were　thirteen　dogs　at　the　table；　and　in　their　center　sat　one　dog　with　a　halo　perched　between　his　pricked　ears：　a　canine　Last　Supper。　An　informed　observer；　knowing　the　traditional　positions　of　the　Apostles；　could　have　named　them　all。　The　writers　of　the　Gospels　were　there　in　their　accustomed　seats；　John　sitting　closest　to　his　master；　Judas　sitting　at　the　perimeter　of　the　pany；　while　Peter　（a　Saint　Bernard）　brooded　at　the　other　end；　his　furrowed　brow　suggesting　he　already　knew　he　would　betray　his　master　three　times　before　the　long　night　was　over。
　 Elsewhere　in　the　landscape；　the　dogs　were　painted　at　far　crueler　work。　Tearing　rabbits　apart　in　one　place；　and　ripping　the　flesh　from　a　cornered　stag　in　another。　In　a　third　they　were　in　a　contest　with　a　lion；　and　many　had　been　traumatically　injured　by　the　battle。　Some　crawled　away　from　the　place；　trailing　their　bowels；　one　had　been　thrown　up　into　the　trees；　and　its　corpse　hung　there；　tongue　lolling。　Others　lay　sprawled　in　the　grass　in　pools　of　blood。　The　hunters　kept　their　distance；　no　doubt　waiting　for　the　lion　to　bee　so　weakened　by　blood…loss　that　they　could　close　in　and　claim　the　heroic　moment　for　themselves。
　 But　the　most　perverse　of　all　the　scenes　were　those　in　which　erotic　love　and　hunting　were　conjoined。
　 There　was；　for　instance；　a　place　where　the　dogs　had　driven　a　number　of　naked　men　and　women　up　a　gorge；　where　they　had　encountered　a　group　of　hunters　armed　with　spears　and　nets。　The　terrified　couples　clung　to　one　another；　but　the　netters　and　the　spearers　knew　their　business。　Men　were　separated　from　women　and　the　men　were　run　through　with　spears；　the　women　all　bundled　up　in　the　nets；　heaped　on　carts；　and　carried　away。　The　sexual　servitude　that　awaited　them　was　of　a　very　particular　kind。　Reading　the　walls　from　left　to　right　the　viewer's　eye　found　that　in　an　adjacent　valley　the　women　were　freed　from　the　nets　and　strapped　beneath　the　bodies　of　massive　centaurs；　their　legs　stretched　around　the　flanks　of　the　animals。　The　women's　response　to　this　terrible　violation　was　something　the　artists　had　taken　some　trouble　to　detail。　One　was　screaming　in　agony；　her　head　thrown　back；　as　blood　ran　from　the　place　where　she　was　being　divided。　Others　appeared　to　be　in　ecstasy　at　this　forced　marriage；　pressing　their　faces　joyously　to　the　necks　of　their　deflowerers。
　 But　this　part　of　the　story　did　not　finish　there。　If　the　'reader'；　scanning　these　walls；　had　continued　his　enquiry；　he　would　have　found　that　some　of　the　men　had　survived　the　massacre　in　the　gorge；　and　returned；　on　a　later　sequence　of　tiles；　to　hunt　the　creatures　that　had　their　wives　in　sexual　thrall。　These　were　some　of　the　most　brilliantly　painted　sequences　on　the　walls：　the　surviving　lovers　returning　on　horseback；　so　as　to　match　their　speed　to　that　of　the　centaurs。　Lassoes　circling　in　the　air　over　their　heads；　they　closed　on　the　centaurs；　who　were　slowed　down　by　the　very　women　they　carried　around　to　pleasure　them。　Several　were　brought　down　by　ropes　around　the　neck；　others　were　speared　in　the　throat　or　flank。　The　women　they　carried　were　not　always　lucky　in　these　encounters。　Though　no　doubt　their　rescuers　intended　to　free　them；　it　was　often　the　case　that　they　perished　beneath　the　weight　of　their　violators；　as　the　dying　centaurs　rolled　over；　crushing　them。　Perhaps　there　was　some　moral　here…some　lesson　about　the　vulnerability　of　the　innocent　women　when　two　tribes　of　males　were　set　against　one　another；　but　the　artists　seemed　to　take　too　much　grisly　pleasure　in　their　depictions　for　this　to　be　the　case。　Rather；　it　appeared　to　be　done　for　the　pleasure　of　the　doing；　of　the　imagining；　and　of　the　rendering。　There　was　no　moral　from　one　end　of　this　world　to　the　other。
　
　
　 It　would　be　possible　to　go　on　listing　at　great　length　the　horrors　and　the　spectacles　of　the　scenes　laid　out　on　the　tile：　the　fields　of　dancing　demons；　the　fairy　races；　the　succubi　squatting　on　roofs；　the　holy　fools　draped　in　coats　of　cow…dung；　the　satyrs；　the　spirits　of　graveside；　roadside　and　hearth…side；　the　weasel…kings　and　the　bloated　toads；　and　so　on；　and　so　on；　behind　every　tree　and　on　every　cloud；　sliding　down　every　waterfall　and　lingering　beneath　every　rock：　a　world　haunted　by　the　shapes　of　lust　and　animal　lust　and　all　that　humanity　called　to　its　bosom　in　the　long　nights　of　its　despair。
　 Though　Hollywood…even　in　its　fledgling　years…was　presenting　itself　to　the　world　as　the　very　soul　of　the　imagination；　there　was　nothing　going　on　before　the　cameras　there　（nor　would　there　be；　ever）　that　could　pete　with　what　the　master　tile…painters　and　their　apprentices　had　created。
　 It　was；　as　Sandru　has　said；　the　Devil's　Country。
　
　 Zeffer　went　to　Brascov　to　hire　men；　at　prices　five　or　six　times　what　he　would　have　paid　locally；　because　he　wanted　hands　that　could　do　the　job　with　some　finesse；　and　minds　that　could　count　to　a　higher　number　than　their　fingers。　He　devised　the　means　by　which　the　masterpiece　could　be　removed　himself。　The　tiles　were　meticulously　numbered　on　the　reverse　sides　and　a　huge　legend　made　of　the　room　by　three　cartographers　he　had　also　hired　in　the　city；　so　that　there　would　be　a　meticulous　record　of　the　way　the　design　had　been　laid　out；　and　an　obsessive　accounting　of　how　the　tiles　were　numbered；　stacked　and　packed　away；　including　a　detailed　description　of　which　tiles　were　cracked　or　damaged　before　they　were　packed；　which　had　been　mislaid　by　the　original　tilers　（there　were　a　hundred　and　sixteen　such　tiles；　most　turned　ninety　or　a　hundred　and　eighty　degrees　by　an　artisan　too　tired；　too　bewildered　or　perhaps　too　drunk　to　realize　his　error）；　all　so　that　when　the　tiles　were　unpacked　at　the　house　in　Coldheart　Canyon　there　would　be　no　difficulty　reordering　them　into　the　original　design。
　 It　was　a　long　process；　a　total　of　eleven　weeks　were　to　pass　before　the　crated　tiles　were　finally　transported　from　the　Fortress。
　 All　the　work　had　drawn　much　attention　of　course；　from　the　brothers　themselves；　who　knew　what　was　going　on　because　Father　Sandru　had　told　them；　and　from　the　villagers；　who　had　only　the　vaguest　of　ideas　of　what　all　this　was　about。　There　were　rumors　flying　around　that　the　removal　was　being　undertaken　because　the　tiles　had　put　the　souls　of　the　Fathers　in　spiritual　jeopardy；　but　precise　details　of　this　jeopardy　changed　from　account　to　account。
　 The　vast　sum　of　money　that　was　now　in　the　possession　of　the　Order　did　very　little　to　transform　the　lives　of　the　priests；　apart　from　inspiring　some　of　the　most　embittered　exchanges　in　the　history　of　the　brotherhood。　Several　of　the　priests　were　of　the　opinion　that　the　tiles　should　not　have　been　sold　（not　because　of　their　merit；　but　because　it　was　not　wise　to　loose　such　unholy　images　on　the　secular　world）。　To　this；　Father　Sandru…who　was　more　often；　and　more　publicly；　drunk　by　the　day…offered　only　a　sneering　dismissal。
　 What　does　it　matter？；　he　said　to　the　plainers：　they　are　only　tiles；　for　God's　sake。
　 There　were　a　good　number　of　shaken　heads　by　the　way　of　response；　and　a　very　eloquent　riposte　from　one　of　the　older　Fathers；　who　said　that　God　had　put　the　tiles　into　their　protection；　and　it　was　cynical　and　careless　of　him　to　let　them　go。　What　damage　might　they　not　do；　out　there　in　the　world；　he　said；　what　hurt　to　innocent　souls？
　 Sandru　was　unmoved　by　all　this。　There　were　no　innocent　souls　in　Hollywood；　he　had　learned；　nor　was　there　any　sin　or　excess　painted　in　the　tiles　that　the　people　of　that　city　were　not　intimately　familiar　with。　He　spoke　with　an　authority　which　he　didn't　in　truth　possess；　but　it　sufficiently　impressed　the　brothers…or　at　least　a　greater　number　of　them…so　that　the　nay…sayers　were　finally　silenced。
　 There　was　much　debate　about　what　should　happen　to　the　money。　One　faction；　led　by　the　older　men；　believed　it　had　been　acquired　by　dubious　means；　and　the　only　uncorrupted　way　to　dispose　of　it　was　to　distribute　it　amongst　the　poor。　Surprisingly；　very　few　voices　supported　this　solution；　some　part　of　the　money　might　be　given　to　the　needy　in　the　village；　the　priests　agreed；　but　there　were　other　causes　that　should　be　attended　to。　There　was　some　lobbying　for　a　plete　removal　of　the　Order　to　some　other　place　than　the　Fortress；　a　more　fortable　place；　where　they　could　find　thei