anner.vittoriothevampire-第32章
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the French and the Germans … I still could not get the hated vision of it out of my head。 Trying desperately not to heave up my guts again； I relaxed all my limbs as I saw this Florentine enclosure。
Down around the cloister； down around the burning hot garden； the large monk； a bear of a man； beaming down at me in habitual and inveterate kindness； carried me in his burly arms； while there came others in their flowing black and white robes； with thin radiant faces seeming to encircle us even in our rapid progress。 I couldn't see my angels。
But these men were the nearest to angels that the world provides。
I soon realized … due to my former visits to this great place … that I was not being taken to the hospice； where drugs were dispensed to the sick of Florence； or to the pilgrims' refuge； which was always swarming with those who e to offer and pray； but up the stairs into the very hall of the monks' cells。
In a glaze of sickness in which beauty brought a catch in my throat； I saw at the head of the stairway； spread out on the wall； the fresco of Fra Giovanni's Annunciation。
My painting； the Annunciation！ My chosen favorite； the painting which meant more to me than any other religious motif。
And no； it wasn't the genius of my turbulent Filippo Lippi； no； but it was my painting； and surely this was an omen that no demon can damn a soul through the poison of forced blood。 Was Ursula's blood forced on you too？ Horrid thought。 Try not to remember her soft fingers being pulled loose from you； you fool； you drunken fool； try not to remember her lips and the long thick kisslet of blood slipping into your own open mouth。
〃Look at it！〃 I cried out。 I pointed one flopping arm towards the painting。
〃Yes； yes； we have so many；〃 said the big smiling bear of a monk。
Fra Giovanni was of course the painter。 Who could have not seen it in one glance？ Besides； I knew it。 And Fra Giovanni … let me remind you one more time that this is Fra Angelico of the ages … had made a severe； soothing； tender but utterly simple Angel and Virgin； steeped in humility and devoid of embellishments； the visitation itself taking place between low rounded arches such as made up the very cloister from which we had just e。
As the big monk swung me around to take me down the broad corridor … and broad it was； and so polished and austere and beautiful to me … I tried to form words as I carried the image of the angel in my mind。
I wanted to tell Ramiel and Setheus； if they were still with me； that look； Gabriel's wings had only simple stripes of color； and look； how his gown fell in symmetrical and disciplined folds。 All of this I understood； as I understood the rampant grandeur of Ramiel and Setheus； but I was blubbering nonsense again。
〃The halos；〃 I said。 〃You two； where are you？ Your halos hover over your heads。 I saw them。 I saw them in the street and in the paintings。 But you see in the painting by Fra Giovanni； the halo is flat and surrounds the painted face； a disk hard and golden right on the field of the painting
The monks laughed。 〃To whom are you speaking； young Signore Vittorio di Raniari？〃 one of them asked me。
〃Be quiet； child；〃 said the big monk； his booming bass voice pushing against me through his barrel of a chest。 〃You're in our tender care。 And you must hush now； see； there； that's the library； you see our monks at work？〃
They were proud of it； weren't they？ Even in our progress when I might have vomited all over the immaculate floor； the monk turned to let me see through the open door the long room crowded with books and monks at work； but what I saw too was Michelozzo's vaulted ceiling； again； not soaring to leave us； but bending gently over the heads of the monks and letting a volume of light and air rise above them。
It seemed I saw visions。 I saw multiple and triple figures where there should only be one； and even in a flash a misty confusion of angelic wings； and oval faces turned； peering at me through the veil of supernatural secrecy。
〃Do you see？〃 was all I could say。 I had to get to that library； I had to find texts in it that defined the demons。 Yes； I had not given up！ Oh； no； I was no babbling idiot。 I had God's very own angels at my assistance。 I'd take Ramiel and Setheus in there and show them the texts。
We know； Vittorio； wipe the pictures from your mind； for we see them。 〃Where are you？〃 I cried out。 〃Quiet；〃 said the monks。
〃But will you help me go back there and kill them？〃
〃You're babbling；〃 said the monks。
Cosimo was the guardian patron of that library。 When old Niccolo de' Niccoli died； a marvelous collector of books with whom I had many times spoken at Vaspasiano's bookshop； all of his religious books； and maybe more； had been donated by Cosimo to this monastery。
I would find them in there； in that library； and find proof in St。 Augustine or Aquinas of the devils with which I'd fought。
No。 I was not mad。 I had not given up。 I was no gibbering idiot。 If only the sun ing in the high little windows of this airy place would stop baking my eyeballs and burning my hands。
〃Quiet； quiet；〃 said the big monk； smiling still。 〃You are making noises like an infant。 Hhhhh。 Burgle； gurgle。 Hear？ Now； look； the library's busy。 It's open to the public today。 Everybody is busy today。〃
He turned only a few steps past the library to take me into a cell。 〃Down there。。。〃 he went on； as if cajoling an unruly baby。 〃Only a few steps away is the Prior's cell； and guess who is there this very minute？ It's the Archbishop。〃
〃Antonino；〃 I whispered。
〃Yes； yes； you said it right。 Once our own Antonino。 Well； he's here； and guess why？〃
I was too groggy to respond。 The other monks surrounded me。 They wiped me with cool cloths。 They smoothed back my hair。
This was a clean large cell。 Oh； if the sun would only stop。 What had those demons done to me； made me into a half…demon？ Dare I ask for a mirror？
Set down on a thick soft bed； in this warm； clean place； I lost all control of my limbs。 I was sick again。
The monks attended me with a silver basin。 The sunlight pierced brilliantly upon a fresco； but I couldn't bear to look at the gleaming figures； not in this hurtful illumination。 It seemed the cell was filled with other figures。 Were they angels？ I saw transparent beings； drifting； stirring； but I could catch hold of no clear outline。 Only the fresco burned into the wall in its colors seemed solid； valid； true。
〃Have they done this to my eyes forever？〃 I asked。 I thought I caught a glimpse of an angelic form in the doorway of the cell； but it was not the figure of either Setheus or Ramiel。 Did it have webbed wings？ Demon wings？ I started in terror。 But it was gone。 Rustling； whispering。 We know。
〃Where are my angels？〃 I asked。 I cried。 I told out the names of my father and his father； and of all the di Raniari whom I could remember。
〃Shhhhh；〃 said the young monk。 〃Cosimo has been told that you are here。 But this is a terrible day。 We remember your father。 Now let us remove these filthy clothes。〃 My head swam。 The room was gone。
Sodden sleep； a glimpse of her； my savior Ursula。 She ran through the blowing meadow。 Who was this pursuing her； driving her out of the nodding； weaving flowers？ Purple irises surrounded her； were crushed under her feet。 She turned。 Don't； Ursula！ Don't turn。 Don't you see the flaming sword？
I woke in a warm bath。 Was it the cursed baptismal fount？ No。 I saw the fresco； the holy figures； dimly； and more immediately the real live monks who surrounded me on their knees on the stone； their big sleeves rolled back as they washed me in the warm； sweet…scented water。
〃Ah； that Francesco Sforza。。。〃 they spoke in Latin to one another。 〃To charge into Milan and take possession of the Dukedom！ As if Cosimo did not have enough trouble； without Sforza having done such a thing。〃
〃He did it？ He has taken Milan？〃 I asked。
〃What did you say？ Yes； son； he has。 He broke the peace。 And your family； all your poor family murdered by the freebooters； don't think they'll go unpunished； rampaging through that country； those damned Venetians。。。〃
〃No； you mustn't； you must tell Cosimo。 It was not an act of war； what happened to my family； not by human bein
