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第15章

annr.pandora-第15章

小说: annr.pandora 字数: 每页4000字

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 of Germanicus。 He's young and sets a tone of vitality and gaiety in the city。〃
 〃And Piso?〃 I asked。
 〃Everyone hates him。 Especially the soldiers; and you know what that means in a Roman province。〃
 You can look at the crashing; undulating sea from the railing of a deck forever; or just for so long。
 That night I had my second blood dream。 It was keenly similar to the first。 I was thirsty for blood。 And enemies were after me; enemies that knew I was a demon and must be destroyed。 I was running。 My own kind had forsaken me; thrust me out unprotected to the superstitions of the people。 Then I saw the desert and knew I would die; I awoke; sitting up and crying out; but covering my mouth quickly so no one heard it。
 What disturbed me so terribly was the thirst for blood。 I could not imagine such a thing when I was awake; but in these dreams I was the monster that Romans called the Lamia。 Or so it seemed。 Blood was sweet; blood was all。 Was the old Greek Pythagoras right? Souls do migrate from body to body? But my soul in this past life had been that of a monster。
 During the day; I dosed my eyes now and then and found myself dangerously on the edge of the dream; as if it were a trap in my mind; waiting to engulf my consciousness。 But at night; that is when they came most strongly。 You have served me before! What could this mean? e to me。
 Blood thirst。 I closed my eyes; curled up in bed and prayed; 〃Mother Isis; Cleanse my Mind of this Blood madness。〃
 Then I resorted to plain old ordinary eroticism。 Get Jacob into bed! No such luck。 Little did I know that Hebrews had been; and would be forever; the most difficult of men to seduce!
 It was all made dear with great grace and tact。
 I considered all the slaves。 Out of the question。 First off were the galley slaves; among whom no great 〃Ben Hur〃 was chained; waiting for me to rescue him。 They were just the dregs of the criminal poor; fastened Roman…style; so they would drown if the ship went down; and they were dying; as all galley slaves do from the monotony and the whip。 It wasn't a pleasant sight to go down into the hold of a galley ship and see those men bending their backs。
 But my eyes were as cold as those of an American watching color television pictures of the starving babies of Africa; little black skeletons with big heads screaming for water。 News Break; mercial Break; Sound Bite; CNN now switches to Palestine: rock throwing; rubber bullets。 Television blood。
 The rest on board were boring sailors; and two old pious merchant Hebrews who stared at me as if I were a whore; or worse; and turned their heads whenever I came out on deck in my long tunic with my long hair swinging free。
 Such a disgrace I must have seemed! But what a fool I was then; really; living in numbness; and how pleasant that voyage … all because true grief and rage had not yet taken hold of me。 Things had happened too fast。
 I gloated over my last glimpse of my Father dispatching those soldiers of Tiberius; those cheap assassins sent by a cowardly; indecisive Emperor。 And the rest … I banished it from my mind; affecting the attitude of the hardened Roman man or woman。
 A modern Irish poet; Yeats; best characterizes the official Roman attitude towards failure and tragedy。
 
 Cast a cold eye on life; on death。 Horseman; pass by!
 
 There was never a Roman born who would not have agreed with that。
 That was my stance … sole survivor of a great house; manded by her Father to 〃live。〃 I didn't dare to dwell on the fate of my brothers; their lovely wives; their little children。 I couldn't envision the slaughter of the children … little boys being run through by broadswords; or babies bashed against the wall。 Oh; Rome; you and your bloody old wisdom。 Be sure to kill the offspring。 Kill the whole family!
 Lying alone at night; I found myself amid more horrid blood dreams。 They seemed fragments of a lost life; a lost land。 Deep echoing vibrant tones of music dominated the dreams; as though someone were striking a gong; and others beside him beat solemnly on deep drums with soft coverings。 I saw in a haze a world of stiff and flat alien paintings on the walls。 Painted eyes around me。 I drank blood! I drank it from a small shuddering human being; who knelt before me as if I were Mother Isis。
 I woke to take the big jug of water by my bed and drink all of it down。 I drank water to defy and satisfy this dream thirst。 I was almost sick from drinking water。
 I racked my mind。 Had I ever had such dreams as a child?
 No。 And now these dreams had the heat of recollection! Of initiation into the doomed Temple of Isis; when it had been still the fashion。 I had been intoxicated; and drenched in the blood of a bull; and dancing wildly in circles。 My head was filled with the litanies of Isis。 We were promised rebirth! 〃Never tell; never tell; never tell。。。〃 How could an initiate tell anything of the rites; when you were so drunk you could hardly remember them?
 Isis brought me memories now of lovely music of lyres; flutes; timbrels; of the high magical sound of the metal strings of the sistrum; which the Mother Herself held in her hand。 There were only fleeting recollections of that naked blood dance; that night of rising into the stars; of seeing the scope of life in its cycles; of accepting perfectly just for a little while that the moon would always be changing; and the sun would set as it always rose。 Embraces of other women。 Soft cheeks and kissing and bodies rocking in unison。 〃Life; death; rebirth; it's no series of miracles;〃 said the Priestess。 〃To understand it and accept it; that is the miracle。 Make the miracle within your own breast。〃
 Surely we had not drunk blood! And the bull … it was a sacrifice only for the initiation。 We did not bring helpless animals to her flower…laden altars; no; our Blessed Mother did not ask that of us。
 Now; at sea; alone; I lay awake to avoid these blood dreams。
 When exhaustion won out; a dream came with sleep as if it had been waiting for my eyes to close。
 I lay in a gold chamber。 I was drinking blood; blood from the throat of a god; or so it seemed; and choruses were singing or chanting … it was a dull; repetitive sound not quite worthy of being called music; and when I had had my fill of blood; this god or whoever this was; this silken…skinned proud thing; lifted me and placed me on an altar。
 Vividly; I could feel the cold marble beneath me。 I realized I wore no clothes。 I felt no modesty。
 Somewhere far off echoing through these great halls; came the weeping of a woman。 I was full of blood。 Those who chanted approached with little clay oil lamps。 Faces around me were dark; dark enough to be from far faraway Ethiopia or India。 Or Egypt。 Look。 Painted eyes! I looked at my hands and arms。 They were dark。 But I was this person who lay on the altar; and I say person now because it had e clear to me with no disturbance during the dream itself that I was a man lying there。 Pain tore at me。 The god said; 〃This is merely the passage。 You will now drink from each of us; only a little blood。〃
 Only when I woke did the brief transition in the masculine gender leave me as puzzled as everything else。 I was drenched with a sense of Egyptian art; Egyptian mystery … as I'd seen it in golden statues for sale in the marketplace; or when the Egyptian dancers performed at a banquet; like walking sculptures with their black…lined eyes; and black plaited wigs; whispering in that mysterious tongue。 What had they thought of our Isis in Roman dress?
 A mystery taunted me; something attacked my reason。 The very thing the Roman Emperors had so feared in Egyptian cults and Oriental cults swept over me: mystery and emotion which claim a superiority to reason and law。
 My Isis had been a Roman goddess; really; a universal goddess; the Mother of us all; her worship spreading out in a Greek and Roman world long before it had e into Rome itself。 Our Priests were Greeks and Roman; poor men。 We the congregation were all Greeks and Romans。
 Something scratched at the back of my mind。 It said; 〃Remember。〃 It was a tiny desperate voice within my own brain that urged me to 〃remember〃 for my own sake。
 But remembering only led to confused and jumbled thou

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