bl.necroscope2-第55部分

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　〃Then　tell　me　this；〃　said　Harry；　eager　once　more。　〃After　he　hurled　you　from　your　castle　in　flames；　what　became　of　you　then？〃
　
　I　shall　be　brief；　Faethor　answered；　because　I　sense　that　this　is　only　part　of　what　you　desire　to　know。　Cast　your　mind　back　then；　if　you　will；　one　thousand　years　into　the　past。。。
　
　Thibor　the　Wallach；　whom　I　had　called　son…to　whom　I　had　given　my　name　and　banner；　and　into　whose　hands　I　had　bequeathed　my　castle；　lands　and　Wamphyri　power　had　injured　me　sorely。　More　sorely　than　even　he　suspected。　That　cursed　ingrate！
　Thrown　down　from　the　walls　of　my　castle　in　flames；　I　was　burned　and　blinded。　Myriad　minion　bats　fluttered　to　me　as　I　fell；　were　scorched　and　died；　but　dampened　the　flames　not　at　all。　I　crashed　through　trees　and　shrubs；　tumbled　in　a　thousand　agonies　down　the　steep　side　of　the　gorge；　was　torn　by　trees　and　boulders　alike　before　striking　bottom：　But　my　fall　was　broken　in　part　by　the　foliage；　and　I　fell　in　a　shallow　pool　which　put　out　the　flames　that　threatened　to　melt　my　Wamphyri　flesh。
　Stunned；　as　close　to　true　death　as　a　vampire　might　e　and　remain　undead；　still　I　put　out　a　call　to　my　faithful　gypsies　down　in　the　valley。　I　know　you　will　understand　what　I　mean；　Harry　Keogh。　We　share　the　power　to　speak　with　others　at　a　distance。　To　speak　with　the　mind　alone；　as　we　do　now。　And　the　Szgany　came。
　They　took　out　my　body　from　the　still；　salving　water　and　cared　for　it。　They　carried　me　west　over　the　mountains　into　the　Hungarian　Kingdom。　They　protected　me　from　jars　and　jolts；　hid　me　from　potential　enemies；　kept　me　from　the　sun's　searing　rays。　And　at　last　they　brought　me　to　a　place　of　rest。　Ah！　And　that　was　a　long　rest：　for　recuperation；　for　reshaping；　a　time　of　enforced　retirement。
　I　have　said　Thibor　had　hurt　me。　But　how　he　had　hurt　me！　I　was　sorely　damaged。　All　bones　broken：　back　and　neck；　skull　and　limbs。　Chest　staved　in；　heart　and　lungs　a　mangle。　Skin　flayed　by　fire；　torn　by　sharp　branches　and　boulders。　Even　the　vampire　in　me；　which　occupied　most　parts　and　portions；　was　battered；　torn　and　scorched。　A　week　in　the　healing？　A　month？　A　year？　Nay；　an　hundred　years！　A　century；　in　which　to　dream　my　dreams　of　red　…or　night…black…revenge！
　My　long　convalescence　was　spent　in　an　inaccessible　mountain　retreat；　but　a　place　more　a　cavern　than　a　castle；　and　all　the　while　my　Szgany　tended　me；　and　their　sons；　and　their　sons。　And　their　daughters；　too。　Slowly　I　became　whole　again；　the　vampire　in　me　healed　itself；　and　then　healed　me；　Wamphyri；　I　walked　again；　practised　my　arts；　made　myself　wiser；　stronger；　more　terrible　than　ever　before。　I　went　abroad　from　my　aerie；　made　plans　for　my　life's　adventure　as　if　Thibor's　treachery　had　been　but　yesterday　and　all　my　wounds　no　more　than　a　stiffness　of　the　joints。
　And　it　was　a　terrible　world　in　which　I　emerged；　with　wars　everywhere　and　great　suffering；　and　famines；　and　pestilence。　Terrible；　aye；　but　the　very　stuff　of　life　to　me！　For　I　was　Wamphyri　。
　I　builded　me　a　small　castle　in　the　border　with　Wallachia；　almost　impregnable；　and　there　set　myself　up　as　a　Boyar　of　some　means。　I　led　a　mixed　body　of　Szgany；　Hungarians　and　local　Wallachs；　paid　them　well；　housed　and　fed　them；　was　accepted　as　a　landowner　and　leader。　The　Szgany；　of　course；　would　have　followed　me　to　the　ends　of　the　earth　…and　they　did；　they　did！…not　out　of　love　but　some　strange　emotion　which　is　in　the　wild　breast　of　all　the　Szgany。　Simply　say　that　I　was　a　Power；　and　that　they　associated　with　me。　As　for　my　name：　I　became　Stefan　Ferrenzig；　mon　enough　in　those　parts。　But　that　was　only　the　first　of　my　names。　Thirty　years　after　my　full　recovery　I　became　the　〃son〃　of　Stefan；　called　Peter；　and　thirty　years　later　Karl；　then　Grigor。　A　man　must　not　be　seen　to　live　too　long。；　and　certainly　not　for　centuries。　You　understand？
　As　for　Wallachia：　I　avoided　crossing　the　border；　mainly。　For　there　was　one　in　Wallachia　whose　strength　and　cruelty　were　already　renowned：　a　mysterious　mercenary　Voevod　named　Thibor；　who　manded　a　small　army　for　the　Wallach　princelings。　And　I　did　not　wish　to　meet　him；　who　should　now　be　guarding　my　lands　and　properties　in　the　Khorvaty！　No；　I　would　not　meet　him　now；　not　yet。　Oh；　I　doubted　that　he　would　recognise　me；　for　I　was　changed　beyond　measure。　But　if　I　saw　him　I　might　not　be　able　to　contain　myself。　That　could　well　prove　fatal；　for　in　the　years　of　my　healing　he　had　been　active　and　was　grown　strong；　indeed；　he　was　in　large　part　the　power　behind　the　throne　of　Wallachia。　He　had　his　own　Szgany；　but　well　disciplined；　and　he　also　manded　the　army　of　a　prince；　while　I　merely　led　an　untrained　rabble　of　gypsies　and　peasants。　No；　my　revenge　could　wait。　What　is　time　to　the　Wamphyri；　eh？
　For　a　further　sixty　years　I　bided　my　time；　contained　my　activities；　was　subdued；　covert。　By　now　I　had　access　to　a　worthy　force　of　fighters　for　payment；　fierce　mercenaries；　and　I　considered　how　best　to　use　them。　I　was　tempted　to　take　on　Thibor　and　the　Wallachs；　but　any　sort　of　even　fight　was　not　to　my　liking。　I　wanted　the　dog　on　his　knees　before　me；　to　do　with　him　as　I　desired。　I　did　not　want　a　battlefield　confrontation；　for　I　had　learned　at　first　hand　his　wiles　and　his　strength。　By　now　he　possibly　considered　me　dead；　it　were　best　I　continued　to　let　him　think　it；　my　time　would　still　e。
　But　meanwhile　I　was　restless；　confined；　pent　up。　Here　was　I；　lusty；　strong；　something　of　a　power；　and　I　had　nowhere　to　channel　my　energies。　It　was　time　I　went　further　abroad　in　the　roiling　world。
　Then　I　heard　of　a　great　Crusade　by　the　Franks　against　the　Moslems。　The　world　was　two　years　into　its　thirteenth　Christian　century；　and　even　now　a　fleet　was　sailing　against　Zara。　Originally　the　Crusaders　had　intended　to　attack　Egypt；　then　the　centre　of　Moslem　power；　but　their　armies　were　heirs　to　a　long　hostility　towards　Byzantium。　The　old　Doge　of　Venice；　who　provided　their　fleet；　and　who　was　himself　an　enemy　of　Byzantium；　had　diverted　them　first　to　Hungary。　Zara；　only　recently　won　by　the　Hungarians；　was　retaken　and　sacked　by　Venetians　and　Crusaders　alike　in　November　1202；　by　which　time　I　was　on　my　way　to　that　key　city　with　a　select　pany　of　my　own　supporters。　The　Hungarian　King；　〃my　master〃；　believing　I　was　acting　for　him　against　the　Crusaders；　put　no　obstacle　in　my　way。　When　I　reached　Zara；　however；　I　sold　myself　into　mercenary　service　and　took　the　Cross；　which　had　been　my　intention　all　along。
　It　seemed　to　me　that　the　best　way　to　venture　out　across　the　world　would　be　with　the　Crusaders；　but　if　I　had　hoped　for　instant　action；　then　it　was　a　vain　hope。　The　Venetians　and　Franks　had　already　divided　the　city's　spoils…they　had　argued　and　fought　over　them；　too；　but　their　quarrelling　was　soon　over…and　now　the　Doge　and　Boniface　of　Montferrat；　who　led　the　expedition；　decided　to　winter　at　Zara。
　Now；　the　original　intention；　the　prime　purpose　of　this　Fourth　Crusade；　had　been　of　course　to　destroy　the　Moslems。　But　many　Crusaders　believed　that　Byzantium　had　been　a　traitor　to　Christendom　throughout　all　the　Holy　Wars。　And　suddenly　Constantinople　was　within　grasp；　or　at　least　within　reach；　of　vengeful　Crusader　passions。　Moreover；　Constantinople　was　rich…wildly　rich！　Madly　rich！　The　prospect　of　loot　such　as　Constantinople　offered　settled　the　matter。　Egypt　could　wait…the　very　world　could　wait…for　the　target　was　now　the　Imperial　Capital　itself！
　I　shall　be　brief。　We　set　sail　for　Constantinople　in　the　spring；　stopped　off　at　several　places　to　do　various　things；　and　late　in　June　arrived　before　the　Imperial　Capital。　I　will　assume　you　know　something　of　history。　For　months　running　to　years　there　were　objections；　moral；　religious　and　political；　to　the　city's　sack；　avarice　and　lust　eventually　won　the　day。　All　schemes　of　going　on　from　there　to　fight　the　infidel　were　finally　abandoned。　Pope　Innocent　III；　who　had　been　in　large　part　responsible　for　calling　the　Crusade；　had　already　exmunicated　the　Venetians　for　sacking　Zara；　now　he　was　once　more　aghast；　but　both　news…and　intervention…travelled　slowly　in　those　days。　And　in　the　eyes　of　the　Crusaders　Constantinople　had　bee　a　jewel；　their　quest's　end；　and　every　man　of　us　lusted　after　it。　Agreement　was　reached　on　the　division　of　spoils；　and　then…Early　in　April　1204；　we　menced　the　attack！　All　political　scheming　and　pious　talk　were　put　aside　at　last；　for　this　was　why　we　were　here。
　Ah！　And　how　my　fierce　heart　rejoiced。　Every　fibre　of　my　being　thrilled。　Gold　is　one　thing；　but　blood　is　another。　Blood　spilled；　blood　drunk；　blood　coursing　through　veins　of　fire！
　I　will　tell　you　what　we　came　up　against。　First　of　all；　the　Greeks　had　ships　on　the　Golden　Horn　to　keep　us　from　landing　below　the　walls。　They　fought　hard　but　in　vain；　though　their　efforts　were　not　entirely　wasted。　Greek　fire　is　a　terrible　thing…it　ignites　and　burns　in　water！　Their　catapults　hurled　it　among　our　ships；　and　men　blazed　in　the　sea　itself。　I　was　scalded；　my　right　shoulder；　chest　and　back　burned　near　to　the　bone。　Ah！　But　I　had　been　burned　before；　and　by　an　expert。　A　mere　scorching　could　not　keep　me　out　of　it。　My　pain　served　only　to　spur　me　on。　For　this　was　my　day。
　
　You　might　wonder　about　the　sun：　how　could　I；　Wamphyri；　fight　under　its　searing　ray？　I　wore　a　flowing　black　cloak　in　the　fashion　of　Moslem　chiefs；　and　a　helm　of　leather　and　iron　to　guard　my　head