"Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Olivia 2 - Crusader's Torch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Yarbro Chelsea Quinn)

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Text of a letter from Niklos Aulirios in Roma to Atta Olivia Clemens in Tyre,
written in archaic Latin.
To my esteemed bondholder and friend, Olivia, I send you greetings and what
word I can from Roma. Little as I like to admit it, you were surely right when you
decided that arrangements were necessary.
I have rarely seen Roma in such disarray as I find here now. It is not only that
barbarians have done what they could to destroy it for the last five hundred years,
but the Romans themselves appear to have forgot who they are, and are content to
house themselves in filth and rubble. Not even the worst and poorest of the
underground insulae of your youth were as dreadful as much of what I have seen
here.
When I left, I told you I would have all your affairs here in order in two months at
the most. You warned me at the time that I was being too optimistic, and that you
feared with the change in the world that I would require more time, and possibly
more money. Sadly, I must confess that you are right. I will not only need more
money in order to do what must be done, but I will have to have more time if you are
to occupy a place that is suitable to you in all the ways you require.
What is most shocking to me is the disrepair of the aqueducts, for now there is
danger of fever from poor water. It is worse than when the Ostrogoths were
attacking, and there is no real battle going on. There are German knights
everywhere, because of that travesty, the Holy Roman Empire, which is not aptly
described by any of those words. I will strive to find you a villa outside the city
walls—although the walls are in such disrepair in parts that they might as well be
torn down and the stones used to make worthwhile houses for the poor wretches who
haunt the streets. I have heard of a number of such villas, and I will inspect them all,
taking care not to stray too far from Roma, and I will determine the quality of wells
in all the locations I inspect.
I have found a monk here who will arrange for you to be carried on a Spanish ship
and brought to Ostia, which they are now calling Ostia Antiqua. Proper escort will
be required, but it has been suggested that you yourself petition the Hospitalers for
that. They are prepared to render such service and they have chapter houses in many
places. It would relieve me to know you are in the hands of a sworn knight—such a
man would be less likely to try to rape you or sell you into slavery, and if it comes
down to a fight, he will know what to do—than at the mercy of a ship's captain who
might strike bargains with pirates, or worse than that.
No, I do not mean to alarm you. That is not my intention. But you have warned me
for years and years that prudence is necessary for those of your kind and my kind,
and I am only repeating your own precautions for your benefit. After so long, it
would be more dreadful than I would like to think to know you had come to any harm.
Niklos Aulirios
By my own hand on the eve of the Passion, in the 1189th Christian year.

•3•
This chapel, huddled against the south wall of Tyre, was smaller than most; hardly
larger than a box stall. The altar was little more than a polished wooden table, and the
crucifix hanging above it had been hewn by unskilled hands. In so close a place, the
odor of incense mixed with that of the unwashed monk who tended the chapel,