cb.coldheart canyon-第8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！


f　the　Order　to　some　other　place　than　the　Fortress；　a　more　fortable　place；　where　they　could　find　their　way　to　God　without　the　Devil's　shadow　falling　across　their　path。　It　was　Sandru　who　was　the　most　eloquent　advocate　of　their　staying　in　the　Fortress。　His　tongue　well　lubricated　with　wine；　he　explained　that　he　felt　no　sense　of　regret　that　he'd　sold　the　tiles；　it　was　a　once…in…a…lifetime　opportunity；　and　he　was　glad　he'd　taken　it。　Now；　he　said；　they　should　use　the　money　to　rejuvenate　the　place。　Get　the　hospital　up　and　running；　as　had　always　been　the　plan；　see　what　they　could　do　about　refertilizing　the　land；　so　that　the　vineyard　would　prosper　as　they　had　in　the　old　days。
　 〃Our　path　is　perfectly　dear！〃　he　said　to　the　brothers。　〃Whether　our　faith　in　the　Lord　is　secure　or　not；　we　can　heal　here；　and　we　can　grow　the　grape；　and　pass　our　lives　with　purpose。〃
　 He　smiled　as　he　spoke。　That　word…purpose…had　not　been　on　his　lips　for　many　years；　and　it　gave　him　pleasure　to　speak　it。　But　even　as　he　spoke　the　smile　started　to　die　away；　and　the　color　shrank　from　his　ruddy　face。
　 〃I　beg　you　to　excuse　me；〃　he　said；　putting　his　hand　to　his　belly；　〃I　am　sickened　by　too　much　brandy。〃
　 With　that　he　pulled　out　of　his　robes　the　bottle　from　which　he　had　been　drinking　since　early　morning；　and　set　it　clumsily　down　on　the　table　in　front　of　him。　Then　he　turned　and　stumbled　out　to　get　a　breath　of　fresh　air。　Nobody　went　after　him；　he　had　no　friends　left　in　the　Fortress。　His　old　allies　were　too　embarrassed　by　his　excesses　to　publicly　share　his　opinions；　fearful　that　his　behavior　might　reflect　poorly　on　them；　and　keep　them　from　advancement。　So　he　was　alone　as　he　wandered　giddily　through　the　ruins　of　the　dead　vines。　It　was　evening；　and　now　that　the　summer　was　past；　the　air　was　beginning　to　get　chilly。　But　the　sky　overhead　was　a　perfect　blue；　and　there　was　a　new　moon；　its　pallid　crescent　just　clearing　the　mountains。
　 Sandru　tried　to　let　the　sight　of　the　sky　and　moon　calm　him；　have　them　placate　the　pain　of　his　heart；　give　life　back　to　his　numbed　fingers。　But　the　trick　was　beyond　them。　He　realized　suddenly　that　this　was　not　a　spasm　brought　on　by　too　much　brandy。　He　was　dying。
　 The　Brothers　had　medicines　for　weakness　of　the　heart；　he　knew；　it　would　not　be　the　end　of　him　if　he　got　back　to　them　quickly　enough。　He　turned　on　his　heel；　attempting　to　voice　a　shout　of　alarm。　But　his　panicked　chest　would　provide　no　breath　for　him　to　cry　for　help。　His　legs　began　to　fail　him；　and　down　he　went；　face　first；　into　the　dirt。　He　tasted　the　soil　in　his　mouth；　bitter　and　unappetizing。　He　spat　it　out；　and　with　the　last　of　his　strength　he　pushed　himself　up　out　of　the　filth　and　let　gravity　roll　him　over。　He　could　not　move；　but　it　didn't　matter。　The　darkening　sky　overhead　was　spectacle　enough。　He　lay　there　for　six　or　seven　shortening　gasps；　while　a　star；　lonely　in　its　solitude；　brightened　at　his　zenith。　Then　he　let　life　go。
　
　 The　Brothers　did　not　find　him　until　the　middle　of　the　night；　by　which　time　a　frost　had　settled　on　the　old　vineyard；　the　first　frost　of　that　autumn。　It　glittered　on　the　bulk　of　the　dead　Father；　on　his　bulbous　nose　and　in　the　knots　of　his　beard。　It　had　even　inscribed　its　filigrees　on　his　unblinking　eyes。
　
　
　FOUR
　 There　was　no　hospital　established　at　the　Fortress；　then　or　ever。　Nor　was　there　any　attempt　to　replant　the　vineyard；　or　make　the　grounds　around　the　Fortress　in　any　way　flourish。　With　Father　Sandru's　passing　（at　the　relatively　tender　age　of　sixty…two）；　what　little　enthusiasm　there　had　been　for　change　withered。　The　younger　men　decided　to　leave　the　Fortress；　three　of　them　left　the　Order　entirely　and　became　members　of　the　secular　munity。　Of　the　three；　one…a　young　man　by　the　name　of　Jan　Valek　took　his　own　life　less　than　a　year　later；　leaving　a　long　suicide　note；　a　kind　of　epistle　to　his　sometime　brothers；　in　which　he　wrote　of　how　he'd　had　a　dream　after　the　death　of　Father　Sandru；　in　which　〃I　met　the　Father　in　the　vineyards；　which　were　all　burning。　It　was　a　terrible　place　to　be。　Black　smoke　was　filling　the　sky；　blotting　out　the　sun。　He　said　to　me　that　this　was　Hell；　this　world；　and　there　was　only　one　way　to　escape　it；　and　that　was　to　die。　His　face　was　bright；　even　in　the　darkness。　He　said　he　wished　he'd　died　earlier；　instead　of　going　on　suffering　in　the　world。〃
　 〃I　asked　him　if　they　allowed　him　to　drink　brandy　wherever　he　was　now。　He　said　he　had　no　need　of　brandy；　his　existence　was　happy；　there　was　no　need　to　conceal　the　pain　with　drinking。
　 〃Then　I　told　him　I　still　had　a　life　to　live　in　the　world；　whereas　he　had　been　an　old　man；　with　a　weak　heart。　I　was　strong；　I　said；　and　there　was　a　good　chance　I'd　be　alive　for　another　thirty；　maybe　forty　years；　which　was　an　agony　to　me；　but　what　could　I　do？
　 〃'So　take　your　own　life；'　he　said　to　me。　He　made　it　sound　so　simple。　'Cut　your　throat。　God　understands。'〃
　 〃'He　does？'　I　said　to　him。〃
　 〃'Certainly；'　he　told。　'This　world　is　Hell。　Just　look　around。　What　do　you　see？'〃
　 〃I　told　him　what　I　saw。　Fire；　smoke；　block　earth。　〃
　 〃'See？'he　said；　'Hell。'〃
　 〃I　told　him；　though　of　course　I　was　still　dreaming；　I　was　going　to　take　his　advice。　I　was　going　to　go　back　to　my　room；　find　a　sharp　knife；　and　kill　myself。　But　for　some　reason；　as　often　happens　in　dreams；　I　didn't　go　home。　I　went　into　Bucharest。　To　the　cinema　where　Brother　Stefan　used　to　bring　me　sometimes；　to　see　films。　We　went　inside。　It　was　very　dark。　We　found　seats　and　Stefan　had　me　sit　down。　Then　the　film　began。　And　it　was　a　film　about　some　earthly　paradise。　It　made　me　weep；　it　was　so　perfect；　this　place。　The　music；　the　way　the　people　looked。　Beautiful　men　and　women；　all　so　lovely　it　took　my　breath　away　to　look　at　them。　There　was　one　young　man　in　particular…and　it　makes　me　ashamed　to　write　this；　but　if　I　don't　do　it　here；　in　my　last　confession；　where　will　I　do　it？…a　young　man　with　dark　hair　and　light…filled　eyes；　who　opened　his　arms　to　me。　He　was　naked；　on　the　screen；　with　open　arms；　inviting　me　into　his　embrace。　I　turned　to　Father　Stefan　in　the　darkness；　and　he　said　the　very　thing　that　was　going　through　my　mind。　'He　wants　to　take　you　into　his　arms。'〃
　 〃I　started　to　deny　it。　But　Stefan　interrupted　me　and　said：　'Look　at　him。　Look　at　his　face。　It's　flawless。　Look　at　his　body。　It's　perfect。　And　there…between　his　legs…'〃
　 〃I　covered　my　face　in　shame；　but　Stefan　pulled　my　hands　from　my　face　and　told　me　not　to　be　ashamed；　just　to　look；　and　enjoy　looking。　'God　made　all　of　this　for　our　pleasure；'　he　said。　'Why　would　he　give　us　such　a　hunger　to　look　at　nakedness　unless　he　wanted　us　to　take　pleasure　in　it？'〃
　 〃I　asked　Stefan　how　he　knew　it　was　God's　work。　Perhaps　the　Devil　had　made　nakedness；　I　said；　to　tempt　us　and　ensnare　us。　He　laughed；　and　put　his　arm　around　me；　and　kissed　me　on　the　cheek　as　though　I　was　just　a　little　child。〃
　 〃'This　isn't　the　Devil's　work；'　he　said。　'This　is　your　invitation　to　paradise。'〃
　 Then　he　kissed　me　again；　and　I　felt　a　warm　wind　blowing；　as　though　it　was　spring　in　whatever　country　they　had　created　on　the　screen。　And　the　wind　made　me　want　to　die　with　pleasure；　because　it　smelled　of　a　time　I　remembered　from　long　ago。〃
　 〃So　now　I　have　e　back　to　my　room。　I　have　a　knife。　When　I　have　finished　writing　this　I　will　leave　what　I　have　written　on　the　table；　and　I　will　go　out　into　the　field；　and　cut　my　wrists。　I　know　we　are　taught　that　self…slaughter　is　a　sin；　and　that　the　Lord　does　not　wish　us　to　harm　ourselves；　but　if　He　does　not　wish　me　to　end　my　life；　why　is　this　knife　within　reach　of　my　hand；　and　why　is　my　heart　so　much　at　peace？〃
　 His　body　was　found　about　a　hundred　yards　from　the　place　where　Sandru's　frost…covered　body　had　been　discovered。　ing　so　soon　upon　the　death　of　the　old　priest；　the　death　of　Jan　Valek　undid　the　Brotherhood　pletely。　Orders　came　from　Bucharest；　and　the　Brotherhood　was　disbanded。　There　was　no　need　to　guard　the　Fortress　any　longer；　the　Archbishop　said。　The　brothers　would　be　more　useful　to　the　Church　if　they　worked　with　the　sick　and　the　dying；　to　offer　the　Lord's　fort　where　it　was　most　needed。
　 Within　a　week；　the　Order　of　St。　Teodor　had　left　the　Fortress　Goga。
　
　 There　were　those　among　the　villagers　who　felt　that　the　Fortress　had　invited　its　abandonment；　and　began　its　own　process　of　self…slaughter。　Superstition；　no　doubt；　but　it　was　certainly　strange　that　after　five　centuries　of　life；　during　which　span　it　had　remained　strong；　a　quick　process　of　disintegration　should　begin　as　soon　as　the　munity　of　caretakers　departed。
　 True；　the　winter　immediately　following　was　particularly　severe。　But　there　had　been　heavier　snows　on　the　roofs　and　they　had　not　bowed　beneath　the　weight；　there　had　been　stronger　winds　through　the　casements　and　they'd　not　broken　open　and　smashed；　there　had　been　more　persistent　floodings　of　the　lower　floors；　and　the　doors　had　not　been　carried　off　on　their　rotted　hinges。
　 By　the　time　the　spring　came　round…which　was　late　April　that　year…the　Fortress　had　effectively　bee　uninhabitable。　It　was　as　though　its　soul　had　gone　out　of　it；　and　now　all　it　wanted　was　to　allow　the　seasons　to　take　their　steady　toll。　They　were　guileless　collaborators。　The　summer　was　as　violently　hot　as　the　winter　had　been　bitter；　and　it　bred　all　manner　of　destroyers　in　the　fabric　of　the　building。　Worm　and　fly　and　wasp　contributed　to　the　baking　heat　of　the　sun　with　their　burrowings　and　layings　and　nestings。　Beams　that　had　taken　ten　men　to　lift　them　became　dusty；　hollow　things；　as　delicate　as　the　bones　of　immense　birds。　Unable　to　support　their　own　weight；　they　collapsed　upon　themselves；　bringing　down　entire　floors　as　they　fell。　By　the　time　September　arrived；　the　Fortress　was　open　to　the　elements。　The　ward　where　the　brothers　had　optimistically　laid　out　rows　of　beds　now　had　a　ceiling　of　cloud。　When　the　first　rains　of　autumn　came　the　mattresses　were　soaked；　fungus　and　mildew　sprouted　where　the　sick　would　have　lain。　The　place　stank　of　rot　from　end　to　end。
　 And　finally；　somewhere　in　the　middle　of　the　second　winter　in　its　empty　state；　the　floorboards　cracked　and　opened　up；　and　the　lowest　level　of　the　Fortress；　the　level　where　Father　Sandru　had　brought　Zeffer　to　show　him　the　tiled　chamber；　became　available　to　sky　and　storm。　If　anyone　had　ventured　into　the　Fortress　that　winter　they　would　have　witnessed　the　most　delicate　of　spectacles。　Through　the　eight　vaults　above　the　once…tiled　room…which　were　now　all　cracked　like　eggs…snow　came　spiraling　down。　It　fell　into　a　room　denuded。　The　workmen　Zeffer　had　hired　to　do　the　work　of　removing　the　tiles　had　first　been　obliged　to　empty　the　room　of　all　the　monks　had　left　in　there。　Some　of　the　furniture　had　subsequently　been　stolen；　some　broken　up　for　firewood；　and　the　rest…perhaps　a　quarter　of　the　bounty…simply　left　to　decay　where　it　had　been　piled　up。　The　snow；　spiraling　down；　settled　in　little　patches　on　the　floor；　patches　which　would　not　melt　for　the　next　four　months；　but　only　get　wider　and　deeper　as　the　winter's　storms　got　worse；　the　snow　heavier。
　 Just　before　the　thaw；　in　the　middle　of　the　following　April；　the　weight　of　snow　and　ice　finally　brought　the　vaults　down；　in　one　calamitous　descent。　There　was　nobody　there　to　witness　it；　nor　anyone　within　earshot　to　hear　it。　The　room　which　had　contained　the　Hunt　was　buried　in　the　debris　of　all　the　vaults；　plaster　and　wood　and