cb.coldheart canyon-第2章
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wing the bowers which they once treasured to run riot。
But for some reason there is always a certain bitterness in the blooms here。 Even the hungry deer； driven from their traditional trails these days by the presence of sightseers who have e to see Tinseltown； do not linger in the Canyon for very long。 Though the deer venture along the ridge and down the steep slopes of the Canyon； and curiosity； especially amongst the younger animals； often leads them over the rotted fences and toppled walls into the secret enclaves of the gardens； they seldom choose to stay there for very long。
Perhaps it isn't just that the leaves and petals are bitter。 Perhaps there are too many whisperings in the air around the ruined gazebos； and the animals are unnerved by what they hear。 Perhaps there are too many presences brushing against their trembling flanks as they explore the clotted pathways。 Perhaps； as they graze the overgrown lawns； they lookup and mistake a statue for a pale fragment of life； and are startled by their error； and take flight。
Perhaps； sometimes； they are not mistaken。
Perhaps。
The Canyon is familiar with perhaps； with what may or may not be。 And never more so than on such a night as this； when the winds e sighing off the desert； heavy with their perfume； and such souls as the Canyon hosts express their longing for something they dreamed they had； or dreamed that they dreamed； their voices so tenuous tonight that they're inaudible to the human ear； even if there were someone to hear them； which there never is。
That's not entirely true。 On occasion somebody will be tenacious enough to find their way into this vale of luxury and tears； a tourist； perhaps even a family of tourists； foolishly determined to discover what lies off the prescribed route； looking for some famous heart…throb's love…nest； or a glimpse of the idol himself； caught unawares as he walks with his dog。 There are even a few trespassers over the years who have found their way here intentionally； guided to this place by hints dropped in obscure accounts of Old Hollywood。 They venture cautiously； these few。 Indeed there is often something close to reverence in the way they enter Coldheart Canyon。 But however these visitors arrive； they always leave the same way： hurriedly； with many a nervous backward glance。 Even the crassest of them…even the ones who'd claim they don't have a psychic bone in their bodies…are disfited by something they sniff here。 Their sixth sense； they have discovered； is far more acute than they had thought。 Only when they have outrun the all…too…eager shadows of the Canyon and they are back in the glare of the billboards on Sunset Boulevard； do they wipe their clammy palms； and wonder to themselves how it was that in such a harmless spot they could have been so very afraid。
PART ONE
THE PRICE OF THE HUNT
ONE
〃Your wife did not want to look around the Fortress any further； Mister Zeffer？〃 Father Sandru said； seeing that on the second day the middle…aged man with the handsome； sad face had e alone。
〃The lady is not my wife；〃 Zeffer explained。
〃Ah。。。〃 the monk replied； the tone of miseration in his voice indicating that he was far from indifferent to Katya's charms。 〃A pity for you； yes？〃
〃Yes；〃 Zeffer admitted； with some disfort。
〃She's a very beautiful woman。〃
The monk studied Zeffer's face as he spoke； but having said what he'd said； Zeffer was unwilling to play the confessee any further。
〃I'm her manager；〃 he explained。 〃That's all there is between us。〃
Father Sandru； however； was not willing to let the issue go just yet。 〃After the two of you departed yesterday；〃 he said； his English colored by his native Romanian； 〃one of the brothers remarked that she was the most lovely women he had ever seen。。。〃 he hesitated before mitting to the rest of the sentence 〃。。。in the flesh。〃
〃Her name's Katya； by the way；〃 Zeffer said。
〃Yes； yes； I know；〃 said the Father； his fingers bing the knotted gray…white of his beard as he stood assessing Zeffer。
The two men were a study in contrasts。 Sandru ruddy…faced and rotund in his dusty brown habit； Zeffer slimly elegant in his pale linen suit。
〃She is a movie…star； yes？〃
〃You saw one of her films？〃
Sandru grimaced； displaying a poorly…kept array of teeth。 〃No； no；〃 he said。 〃I do not see these things。 At least not often。 But there is a little cinema in Ravbac； and some of the younger brothers go down there quite regularly。 They are great fans of Chaplin； of course。 And there's a。。。vamp。。。is that the word？〃
〃Yes；〃 Zeffer replied； somewhat amused by this conversation。 〃Vamp's the word。〃
〃Called Theda Bara。〃
〃Oh； yes。 We know Theda。〃
In that year…which was 1920…everybody knew Theda Bara。 She had one of the most famous faces in the world。 As； of course； did Katya。 Both were famous； their fame tinged with a delicious hint of decadence。
〃I must go with one of the brothers when they next go to see her；〃 Father Sandru said。
〃I wonder if you entirely understand what kind of woman Theda Bara portrays？〃 Zeffer replied。
Sandru raised a thicketed eyebrow。 〃I am not born yesterday； Mister Zeffer。 The Bible has its share of these women； these vamps。 They're whores； yes； women of Babylon？ Men are drawn to them only to be destroyed by them？〃
Zeffer laughed at the directness of Sandru's description。 〃I suppose that's about right；〃 he said。
〃And in real life？〃 Sandru said。
〃In real life Theda Bara's name is Theodesia Goodman。 She was born in Ohio。〃
〃But is she a destroyer of men？〃
〃In real life？ No； I doubt it。 I'm sure she harms a few egos now and again； but that's about the worst of it。〃
Father Sandru looked mildly disappointed。 〃I shall tell the brothers what you told me；〃 he said。 〃They'll be very interested。 Well then。。。shall I take you inside？〃
Matthias Zeffer was a cultured man。 He had lived in Paris； Rome； London and briefly in Cairo in his forty…three years； and had promised himself that he would leave Los Angeles…where there was neither art nor the ambition to make art…as soon as the public tired of lionizing Katya； and she tired of rejecting his offer of marriage。 They would wed； and e back to Europe； find a house with some real history on its bones； instead of the fake Spanish mansion her fortune had allowed her to have built in one of the Hollywood canyons。
Until then； he would have to find aesthetic fort in the objets d'art he purchased on their trips abroad： the furniture； the tapestries； the statuary。 They would suffice； until they could find a chateau in the Loire； or perhaps a Georgian house in London； somewhere the cheap theatrics of Hollywood wouldn't curdle his blood。
〃You like Romania？〃 the Father asked as he unlocked the great oak door that lay at the bottom of the stairs。
〃Yes； of course；〃 Zeffer replied。
〃Please do not feel you have to sin on my account；〃 Sandru said； with a sideways glance。
〃Sin？〃
〃Lying is a sin； Mister Zeffer。 Perhaps it's just a little one； but it's a sin nevertheless。〃
Oh Lord； Zeffer thought； how far I've slipped from the simple proprieties！ Back in Los Angeles he sinned as a matter of course； every day； every hour。 The life he and Katya lived was built on a thousand stupid little lies。
But he wasn't in Hollywood now。 So why lie？ 〃You're right。 I don't like this country very much at all。 I'm here because Katya wanted to e。 Her mother and father…I'm sorry； her stepfather…live in the village。〃
〃Yes。 This I know。 The mother is not a good woman。〃
〃You're her priest？〃
〃No。 We brothers do not minister to the people。 The Order of St。 Teodor exists only to keep its eyes on the Fortress。〃 He pushed the door open。 A dank smell exuded from the darkness ahead of them。
〃Excuse me for asking；〃 Zeffer said。 〃But it was my understanding from yesterday that apart from you and your brothers； there's nobody here。〃
〃Yes； this is true。 Nobody here； except the brothers。〃
〃So what are you keeping your eyes on？〃
Sandru smiled thinly。 〃I will show you；〃 he said。 〃As much as you wish to see。〃
He switched on a light； which illuminated ten yards of corridor。 A large tapestry hung along the
