p&c.brimstone-第77部分

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ancement；　promotion；　and　a　happy　life　ahead　of　you。〃　
　〃Isaid　；　we're　in　this　together。〃　
　Pendergast　smiled　and　laid　a　hand　on　his　arm…a　strangely　affectionate　gesture　from　a　man　who　hardly　ever　showed　affection。　〃I　knew　this　would　be　your　answer；　Vincent；　and　I　am　glad。　I　have　e　to　rely　on　your　mon　sense；　your　steadiness；　and　your　shooting　ability；　among　other　excellent　qualities。〃　
　D'Agosta　felt　himself　unaccountably　embarrassed　and　he　grunted　a　reply。　
　〃We　should　reach　the　castle　by　midafternoon。　I'll　brief　you　on　the　way。〃　
　The　road　running　south　from　Florence　into　Chianti　wound　through　some　of　the　prettiest　country　D'Agosta　had　ever　seen：　hills　striped　with　vineyards　turning　yellow　in　fall　colors；　and　pale　gray…green　olive　groves；　fairy…tale　castles　and　gorgeous　Renaissance　villas　sprinkled　on　hills　and　ridges。　Beyond　loomed　a　range　of　forested　mountains；　dotted　here　or　there　with　a　grim　monastery　or　an　ancient　bell　tower。　
　The　road　loosely　followed　the　ridges　above　the　Greve　River。　As　they　passed　over　the　Passo　dei　Pecorai；　the　town　of　Greve　came　into　view　far　below；　lying　in　a　low　valley　along　the　river。　As　they　came　around　another　bend　in　the　road；　Pendergast　pointed　a　finger　at　his　side　window。　〃Castel　Fosco；〃　he　said。　
　It　stood　on　a　lonely　spar　of　rock　far　up　in　the　Chiantigian　hills。　From　this　distance；　it　looked　to　D'Agosta　like　a　single　massive　tower；　crenellated　and　time…worn；　rising　above　the　forest。　The　road　turned；　dipped；　and　the　castle　disappeared。　A　moment　later　Pendergast　turned　off　the　main　road；　and　after　a　confusing　series　of　turns　onto　ever…smaller　lanes；　they　arrived　at　a　mossy　wall　with　an　iron　gate。　The　marble　plaque　beside　it　readCastel　Fosco。　The　open　gate　was　rotten　and　rusted；　and　it　seemed　to　have　settled　crookedly　into　the　very　ground　itself。　An　ancient　dirt　road　ran　up　from　the　gate　through　some　vineyards；　climbing　a　steep　hillside　and　disappearing　over　the　brow　of　the　hill。　
　As　they　wound　their　way　up　the　hillside；　Pendergast　nodded　toward　the　terraced　vineyards　and　groves　that　lined　the　road。　〃A　rich　estate；　apparently；　and　one　of　the　largest　in　Chianti。〃　
　D'Agosta　said　nothing。　Every　yard　they　drove　farther　into　the　count's　domain　seemed　to　increase　the　sense　of　oppression　that　hung　over　him。　
　The　road　topped　the　ridge　and　the　castle　came　into　view　again；　much　closer　now：　a　monstrous　stone　keep　perched　on　a　crag　far　up　the　mountainside。　Built　into　one　side　of　the　keep　was　a　later；　yet　still　ancient；　addition：　a　graceful　Renaissance　villa　with　a　pale　yellow　stuccoed　exterior　and　red…tile　roofs。　Its　rows　of　stately　windows　stood　in　strong　contrast　to　the　grim；　almost　brutal　lines　of　the　central　keep。　
　The　entire　structure　was　surrounded　by　a　double　set　of　walls。　The　outermost　was　almost　pletely　in　ruins；　consisting　mostly　of　gaps　of　tumbled　stone；　broken　towers；　and　crumbling　battlements。　The　inner　curtain　was　in　much　better　repair　and　acted　as　a　kind　of　retaining　wall　to　the　castle　itself；　its　enormous　ramparts　providing　fields　of　level　ground　around　the　exterior。　Beyond　the　castle；　the　slopes　of　the　mountain　rose　yet　another　thousand　feet　into　a　wild；　forested　amphitheater；　jagged　outcrops　forming　a　serrated　semicircular　edge　against　the　lowering　sky。　
　〃Over　five　thousand　acres；〃　said　Pendergast。　〃I　understand　it　dates　back　more　than　a　millennium。〃　
　But　D'Agosta　did　not　reply。　The　sight　of　the　castle　had　chilled　him　more　than　he　cared　to　admit。　The　sense　of　oppression　grew　stronger。　It　seemed　insane；　walking　into　the　lion's　den　like　this。　But　he'd　learned　to　trust　Pendergast　implicitly。　The　man　never　did　anything　without　a　reason。　He'd　outfoxed　the　sniper。　He'd　saved　them　from　death　at　the　hands　of　Bullard's　men。　He'd　saved　their　lives　many　times　before；　on　earlier　cases。　Pendergast's　plan…whatever　it　was…would　work。　
　Of　course　it　would　work。　
　　　
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　The　car　came　around　a　final　turn　and　passed　the　ruined　outergate。　The　castle　rose　above　them　in　its　stern　and　immense　majesty。　They　proceeded　down　an　avenue　of　cypress　trees　with　massive　ribbed　trunks　and　stopped　at　a　parking　area　just　outside　the　inner　curtain。　D'Agosta　peered　at　this　wall　through　the　passenger　window　with　deep　misgiving。　It　towered　twenty　feet　over　his　head；　its　great　sloping　buttresses　streaked　with　lime；　dripping　moss　and　maidenhair　ferns。　There　was　no　gate　in　this　inner　wall；　just　a　spiked　and　banded　pair　of　wooden　doors　at　the　top　of　a　broad　stone　staircase。　
　As　they　got　out　of　the　car；　there　was　a　humming　sound；　followed　by　a　deep　scraping　noise；　and　the　doors　opened　at　an　invisible　cue。　
　They　mounted　the　stairs；　passed　through　a　hulking　doorway；　and　stepped　into　what　seemed　like　another　world。　The　smooth　lawn　of　the　inner　ward　ran　for　a　hundred　yards　to　the　skirt　of　the　castle　itself。　To　one　side　of　the　lawn　lay　a　large；　circular　reflecting　pool　surrounded　by　an　ancient　marble　balustrade；　ornamented　at　its　center　by　a　statue　of　Neptune　astride　a　sea　monster。　To　the　right　stood　a　small　chapel　with　a　tiled　dome。　Beyond　was　another　marble　balustrade　overlooking　a　small　garden　that　stepped　down　the　hillside；　ending　abruptly　at　the　fortified　inner　wall。　
　There　was　another　scraping　noise；　and　the　ground　trembled；　D'Agosta　turned　to　see　the　great　wooden　doors　rumbling　closed　behind　them。　
　〃Never　mind；〃　murmured　Pendergast。　〃Preparations　have　been　made。〃　
　D'Agosta　hoped　to　hell　he　knew　what　he　was　talking　about。　〃Where's　Fosco？〃　he　asked。　
　〃We'll　no　doubt　see　him　soon　enough。〃　
　They　crossed　the　lawn　and　approached　the　main　entrance　of　the　massive　keep。　It　opened　with　a　creak　of　iron。　And　there　stood　Fosco；　dressed　in　an　elegant　dove…gray　suit；　longish　hair　brushed　back；　his　smooth　white　face　creased　with　a　smile。　As　always；　he　was　wearing　kid　gloves。　
　〃My　dear　Pendergast；　wele　to　my　humble　abode。　And　Sergeant　D'Agosta；　as　well？　Nice　of　you　to　join　our　little　party。〃　
　He　held　out　his　hand。　Pendergast　ignored　it。　
　The　count　let　the　hand　drop；　his　smile　unaffected。　〃A　pity。　I　had　hoped　we　could　conduct　our　business　with　courtesy；　like　gentlemen。〃　
　〃Is　there　a　gentleman　here？　I　should　like　to　meet　him。〃　
　Fosco　clucked　disapprovingly。　〃Is　this　a　way　to　treat　a　man　in　his　own　home？〃　
　〃Is　it　any　way　to　treat　a　man；　burning　him　to　death　in　his　own　home？〃　
　A　look　of　distaste　crossed　Fosco's　face。　〃So　anxious　to　get　to　the　business　at　hand；　are　we？　But　there　will　be　time；　there　will　be　time。　Do　e　in。〃　
　The　count　stood　aside；　and　they　walked　through　a　long　archway　into　the　castle's　great　hall。　It　was　quite　unlike　what　D'Agosta　had　expected。　A　graceful　loggia　ran　along　three　sides；　with　columns　and　Roman　arches。　
　〃Note　the　Della　Robbiatondi　；〃　said　Fosco；　gesturing　toward　some　painted　terra…cotta　decorations　set　into　the　walls　above　the　arches。　〃But　you　must　be　tired　after　the　drive　down。　I　will　take　you　to　your　quarters；　where　you　can　refresh　yourselves。〃　
　〃Our　rooms？〃　Pendergast　asked。　〃Are　we　spending　the　night？〃　
　〃Naturally。〃　
　〃I'm　afraid　that　won't　be　necessary；　or　even　possible。〃　
　〃But　I　must　insist。〃　The　count　turned　and　seized　an　iron　ring　on　the　open　castle　door；　drawing　it　shut　with　a　boom。　With　a　dramatic　flourish；　he　removed　a　giant　key　from　his　pocket　and　locked　it。　Then　he　opened　a　small　wooden　box　mounted　on　the　nearby　wall。　Inside；　D'Agosta　saw　a　high…tech　keypad；　wildly　out　of　place　amidst　the　ancient　masonry。　The　count　punched　a　long　sequence　of　numbers　into　the　keypad。　In　response；　there　was　a　clank；　and　a　massive　iron　bar　shot　down　from　above；　sliding　into　a　heavy　iron　bracket　and　barring　the　door。　
　〃Now　we　are　safe　from　unauthorized　invasion；〃　said　Fosco。　〃Or；　for　that　matter；　unauthorized　departure。〃　
　Pendergast　made　no　answer。　The　count　turned　and；　moving　in　his　peculiar　light…footed　way；　led　them　through　the　hall　and　into　a　long；　cold　stone　gallery。　Portraits；　almost　black　with　age；　lined　both　walls；　along　with　mounted　sets　of　rusted　armor；　spears；　lances；　pikes；　maces；　and　other　medieval　weaponry。　
　〃The　armor　is　of　no　value；　eighteenth…century　reproductions。　The　portraits　are　of　my　ancestors；　of　course。　Age　has　obscured　them；　fortunately…the　counts　of　Fosco　are　not　a　pretty　race。　We　have　owned　the　estate　since　the　twelfth　century；　when　my　distinguished　ancestor　Giovan　de　Ardaz　wrested　it　from　a　Longobardic　knight。　The　family　bestowed　the　title　'cavaliere'　on　itself　and　took　as　its　coat　of　arms　a　dragon　rampant；　bar　sinister。　During　the　time　of　the　grand　dukes；　we　were　made　counts　of　the　Holy　Roman　Empire　by　the　electress　palatine　herself。　We　have　always　led　a　quiet　existence　here；　tending　our　vines　and　olive　groves；　neither　meddling　in　politics　nor　aspiring　to　office。　We　Florentines　have　a　saying：The　nail　that　sticks　out　gets　hammered　back　in。　The　House　of　Fosco　did　not　stick　out；　and　as　a　result；　we　never　felt　the　blow　of　the　hammer　during　many；　many　shifts　of　political　fortune。〃　
　〃And　yet　you；　Count；　have　managed　to　stick　yourself　out　quite　a　bit　these　past　few　months；〃　Pendergast　replied。　
　〃Alas；　and　much　against　my　will。　It　was　only　to　recover　what　was　rightfully　ours　to　begin　with。　But　we　shall　talk　more　of　this　at　dinner。〃　
　They　passed　out　of　the　gallery　and　through　a　beautiful　drawing　room　with　leaded…glass　windows　and　tapestried　walls。　Fosco　gestured　toward　some　large　landscape　paintings。　〃Hobbema　and　van　Ruisdael。〃　
　The　drawing　room　was　followed　by　a　long　series　of　graciously　appointed；　light…filled　chambers；　until　quite　suddenly　the　character　of　the　rooms　changed　abruptly。　〃We　are　now　entering　the　original；　Longobardic　part　of　the　castle；〃　Fosco　said。　〃Dating　back　to　the　ninth　century。〃　
　Here　the　rooms　were　small　and　almost　windowless；　the　only　light　admitted　by　arrow　ports　and　tiny；　square　openings　high　on　the　walls。　The　walls　were　calcined；　the　rooms　bare。　
　〃I　have　no　use　for　these　dreary　old　rooms；〃　said　the　count　as　they　passed　through。　〃They　are　always　damp　and　cold。　There　are；　however；　several　levels　of　cellars；　tunnels；　and　subbasements　below；　most　useful　for　making　wine；balsamico　；　andprosciutto　di　cinghiale　。　We　hunt　our　own　boar　here　on　the　estate；　you　know；　and　it　is　justly　famous。　The　lowest　of　those　tunnels　were　cut　into　the　rock　by　the　Etruscans；　three　thousand　years