anner.bloodandgold-第25章
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Before his arrival； however； terrible deeds became attached to Constantine's name。 For reasons nobody could discover； he stopped along the way to put to death both his son Crispus and his stepson； Licinianus； and his own wife； the Empress Fausta。 Historians can speculate forever as to why all this happened。 The truth is； nobody knows why Constantine mitted these acts。 There may have been a plot against him。 Perhaps there was not。
Let me say here that it cast a cloud over his arrival among the Romans； and that when he did e； it was no great consolation to the old ruling class； because he dressed very much in the extravagant Eastern style； with silk and damask； and would not be part of the important procession to the Temple of Jupiter； as the people had expected him to do。
Of course the Christians adored him。 Rich and poor they flocked to see him in his Eastern robes and jewels。 They were overwhelmed with his generosity as he laid the ground for more churches。
And though he had spent almost no time in Rome； he had over the years allowed for the pletion of secular buildings begun by Maxentius； and he built a large public bath under his own name。
Then came appalling rumors。 Constantine had plans for an entirely new city。 Constantine found Rome old and decayed and lacking as a capital。 Constantine meant to make a new city for the Empire； he meant to make it in the East； and it would honor his name！
Imagine it； if you can。
Of course the Emperors of the last century had moved all over the provinces of the Empire。 They had fought each other； breaking into pairs and tetrarchies； and meeting here and murdering one another there。
But to give up Rome as the capital？ To create another great city to be the center of the Empire？
It was unthinkable to me。
I brooded in hatred。 I knew despair。
All of my nightly guests shared my misery。 The elderly soldiers were broken by the news and one of the old philosophers wept bitterly。 Another city to be the capital of the Roman Empire？ The younger men were furious； but they could not hide their bitter curiosity； or their grudging guesses as to where this new city might be。
I could not dare weep as I wanted to for my tears would have been full of blood。
I asked the musicians to play old songs； songs I had to teach them for they had never heard them； and there came a strange moment when we sang together…my mortal guests and me…a slow mournful song about Rome's tarnished glory which we would not forget。
The air was cool on that evening。 I went out into the garden and looked down over the side of the hill。 I could see lights here and there in the darkness。 I could hear laughter and conversation from other houses。
〃This is Rome！〃 I whispered。
How could Constantine abandon the city which had been the capital of the Empire for a thousand years of struggle； triumph； defeat； glory？ Couldn't someone reason with him？ This simply could not e to pass。
But the more I roamed the city； the more I listened to talk both far and wide； the more I roamed outside the walls and into the towns thereabout； I came to see what had motivated the Emperor。
Constantine wanted to begin his Christian Empire in a place of incredible advantage； and could not retreat to the Italian peninsula when so much of the culture of his people lay to the East。 Also he had to defend his Eastern borders。 The Persian Empire of the East was always a threat。 And Rome was not a fit place for a man in supreme power to reside。
Thus Constantine had chosen the distant Greek city of Byzantium to be the site of Constantinople； his new home。
And I should see my home； my sacred city； bee now a castoff of a man whom I； as a Roman； could not accept。
There were rumors of the incredible if not miraculous speed with which Constantinople had been mapped out； and with which building was being done。
At once many Romans followed Constantine to the burgeoning new city。 At his invitation perhaps； or simply on their own impulse
Senators decamped with their families and their wealth to live in this new and shining place； a subject on everyone's lips。
Soon I heard that Senators from all the cities of the Empire were being drawn to Constantinople； and indeed； as baths and meeting halls and circuses were erected in the new capital； beautiful statues were being looted from cities throughout Greece and Asia to adorn the new architectural works。
Rome； my Rome； what will bee of you； I thought。 Of course my evening feasts were not really deeply affected。 Those who came to dine with Marius were poor teachers and historians who had no means of moving to Constantinople； or curious and reckless young men who had not made the clever choice as yet。
I had plenty of mortal pany as always； and indeed； I had inherited a few very quick…witted Greek philosophers who had been left behind by families who had gone to Constantinople where they would no doubt find more brilliant men to tutor their sons。 But this； the pany in my house was a small matter。 In truth； as the years passed； my soul was crushed。 And it struck me as more than ever dreadful that I had no other immortal panion who might understand what I felt。 I wondered if Mael or Avicus could possibly prehend what was going on。 I knew they still haunted the same streets as I did。 I heard them。
And my need of Pandora became so terrible that I could not
envision her or think of her anymore。
But still； I thought desperately； if this man Constantine can
preserve the Empire； if Christianity can bind it and prevent it from breaking apart； if its disparate provinces can be united； if Constantine can keep back the barbarians who forever pillage without building or
preserving anything； who am I to judge him； I； who am outside of life？
I went back to my scribbling on the nights when my mind was feverish。 And on those when I was certain that Mael and Avicus were nowhere in the vicinity I went out into the country to visit the shrine。
My work on the walls of the shrine was continuous。 As soon as I finished painting the walls of the entire chapel； I covered over a wall and began painting again。 I could not make my nymphs and goddesses to suit my standards。 Their figures were not slender enough for me； and the arms not graceful enough。 Their hair was not right。 And as for the gardens I rendered； there were not enough kinds of flowers for me to
include。
Always； there was that sense of familiarity…that I had seen this garden
that I had known it long before I was allowed by Akasha to drink her blood。 I had seen the stone benches in it； I had seen the fountains。
I couldn't shake the sensations of being in it as I painted； so strong was the feeling。 I'm not sure it aided me in my work。 Perhaps it hurt。
But as I gained skill as a painter； and I did indeed gain skill； other aspects of the work disturbed me。
I was convinced that there was something unnatural in it； something
inherently ghastly in the manner with which I drew human figures
so nearly perfectly； something unnatural in the way I made the colors so unusually bright； and added so many fierce little details。 I was particularly repelled by my penchant for decorative details。
As much as I was driven to do this work； I hated it。 I posed whole gardens of lovely mythic creatures only to rub them out。 Sometimes I painted so fast that I exhausted myself； and fell down on the floor of the shrine； spending the paralytic sleep of the whole day there； helpless； rather than going to my secret resting place…my coffin… which was hidden not far from my house。
We are monsters； that is what I thought whenever I painted or looked on my own painting； and that's what I think now。 Never mind that I want to go on existing。 We are unnatural。 We are witnesses with both too much and too little feeling。 And as I thought these things； I had before me the mute witnesses； Akasha and Enkil。
What did it matter to them what I did？
Perhaps twice a year I changed their fancy garments； arranging Akasha's gown with fastidious care。 I brought new bracelets for her more often and put these on her
