Once upon a time there was a war with the Turks.My uncle, Viscount Medardo di Terralba, rode across the plains of Bohemia.Yiben is the camp of the Christian army.A groom named Curzio followed him.Flocks of white storks flew low in the murky still air. "Why are there so many storks?" Medardo asked Curzio. "Where do they fly?" My uncle was new here, he had just enlisted in the army, and some of the dukes in our neighborhood were at war, so he had to join in the fun.He was in the castle closest to the battlefield controlled by the Christians.After getting a horse and a groom, he rushed to the imperial barracks to report.

"They fly to the battlefield," replied the groom, looking sad, "and they will accompany us all the way." Viscount Medardo had long learned that the flying of white storks was an auspicious omen in the local area, and he should be happy to see them.But what he felt was the opposite, and he felt uneasy. "Culzio, what is it that attracts these long-legged birds to the battle?" he asked. "They have eaten human flesh too, alas!" replied the groom, "since the drought has dried up the land and dried up the rivers, where there are dead bodies, the storks, flamingoes, and cranes have flown instead of the crows and vultures."

My uncle had just come of age: the age at which people do not yet know the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, and all emotions are in a vague state of impulse; this age loves life.I am impatient for every new experience, even the cruel experience of death. "Where are the crows? Where are the vultures?" he asked. "Where are the other birds of prey? Where have they all gone?" His face was pale, but his eyes were shining. The groom was a dark, bearded soldier who never looked up. "Because they ate the people who died of the plague, they also died of the plague." He raised his spear and pointed at some dark bushes. When he looked closely, he found that these were not branches and leaves of plants, but a A heap of raptor feathers and dried-out paws.

"Look, I don't know who died first, the bird or the human? Who threw himself on the other side and tore him apart," Kurqiliang said. In order to avoid extinction, people in the towns fled to the wild with their families, but the plague still killed them in the wild.The desolate fields were strewn with heaps of human shells, naked bodies of men and women, disfigured by the plague, and feathers, a strange phenomenon that could not be explained at first glance: as if from their bony bodies Wings sprouted from the arms and breast.It turned out that the remains of vultures had been mixed with them.

They have set foot on land where wars have been fought, and there are remnants of war on the ground.They walked slowly, because the two horses raised their front hooves from time to time and could not move forward. "What frightened our horses?" Medardo asked the groom. "Sir," he answered, "there's nothing that bothers a horse so much as the smell of its intestines." Indeed, the long and narrow plain they passed was littered with corpses of horses: some lying on their backs, with hooves in the air, and others lying prone with their heads and necks on the ground.

"Why are so many horses down here, Curzio?" Medardo asked. "When the horses feel their bellies being cut," Kurzio explained, "they don't let their guts come out. Some press their bellies to the ground, and some roll over on their backs. But death takes them away just as quickly. .” "Then the horse died first in this war?" "The scimitar seems to be designed for disembowelling horses at once. Go further and you will see human corpses. First the horses, and then the knights. But here we are, and the camp is ahead. " On the edge of the main line appeared tent steeples, imperial banners, and cooking smoke.They galloped on, seeing almost all the dead of the previous battle carried away and buried.Only some severed limbs, especially fingers, were seen thrown on the crop stubble. "There is a finger pointing us every few miles," said my uncle Medardo. "Why?"

"May God forgive them: the living cut off the fingers of the dead to take the ring." "Who's that over there?" asked a sentinel.His greatcoat was covered with green mildew and moss like bark, and he stood like a tree in the cold north wind. "Long live the Holy Emperor!" Kurzio exclaimed. "Damn the Sultan!" replied the sentinel, "but I beg you, when you get to the headquarters, tell them to send someone to replace me. I've taken root here!" At this moment the horse galloped to avoid the attack. The flies that hang over the battlefield like a dark cloud, they buzz on the dung pile.

"Many warriors," Curzio watched, "whose shit was on the ground yesterday, but who have ascended to heaven!" He made the sign of the sign of the cross on his chest. A row of tents was lined up on one side of the entrance of the camp, and some women with mane hair and long brocade skirts walked out of the tents, with their breasts exposed.The waves greeted them with shouts and smiles. "This is the residence of the ladies of the court," said Curzio. "There are no such beautiful ladies in any other army." My uncle had turned his face away from the horse and stared at them.

"Beware, sir," continued the groom, "they are so dirty and contagious that even a Turk would dare take them as trophies. Not only are they infested with lice, bugs, and fleas, but scorpions and geckos They've all built nests." They passed the field artillery.It was already evening, and the artillerymen were burning their supper of boiled radishes on the barrels of large saturated mortars.Due to the number of bombardments during the day, the cannon barrel became red and hot like coal fire. Carts full of soil were brought in, and the artillerymen sifted the soil through sieves.

"There is not enough gunpowder," Kurzio explained, "but there is a lot of gunpowder in the place where the battle has been fought, and you can get some of it back if you let it dry." They went to the stables of the cavalry.Surrounded by flies, the veterinarians tended the wounds of the horses, stitched them up with needles, applied hot ointments, and bound them with bandages.The horses roared and their hooves kicked wildly, and the doctors also yelled and panicked. They walked a long way to the infantry camp.As the sun went down, the soldiers sat in front of their tents, soaking their bare feet in buckets of warm water.They also wore iron helmets when they washed their feet, and carried spears, as the alarm was often given suddenly, day and night.In the taller tents that formed pavilions, officers powdered their armpits and fanned them with hand-held fans.

"They don't look like this for pride," Kurzio said. "Instead, they look like they're being comfortable in the tough military life." The Viscount of Terralba was soon brought before the Emperor.The emperor's curtains were hung with tapestries and decorated with many spoils of war.The emperor is lying on the map to study the new battle deployment.The table was covered with unfolded maps, and the emperor pushed up the thumbtack to get a small thumbtack from a needle pouch held by a marshal.Many thumbtacks have been stuck on the map, making it hard to see anything clearly. When looking at the map, you have to pull out the nails first, and then press them on after reading the map.Pulling and pressing like this, the emperor and the marshals all held the thumbtacks to their lips in order to make a move, and could only speak indistinctly. Seeing the young man kneeling in front of him, the emperor let out a questioning sound, and took out the thumbtack from his mouth. "He is a knight who just came from Italy, Your Majesty." Someone introduced the emperor, "The Viscount of Terralba, who came from the most noble family in the Principality of Genoa." "Immediately be made a lieutenant." My uncle immediately jumped up and stood at attention as soon as his feet touched. At this time, the emperor waved his hand majestically, and all the maps were spun and rolled up. That night, although Medardo felt tired, he couldn't fall asleep.He stepped back and forth around his tent, listening to the shouts of sentries, the neighing of war horses, and the intermittent sleep-talking of soldiers.He looked up at the stars in the Bohemian night sky, thought of his new rank, thought of the next day's battle, thought of his distant hometown, and thought of the sound of reeds rustling in his river.There was no remembrance, no sorrow, no doubts in his heart.He felt that all this was so perfect and real, and that he himself was sound and full.If he had then been able to foresee the terrible fate that awaited him, he would have thought it a natural and inevitable suffering.He stared at the junction of the night sky and the earth, knowing that there was the enemy's position.He crossed his arms and clasped his shoulders tightly, feeling that he had grasped the new reality of the future, and at the same time had confidence in his new situation, and he was full of ambition.He felt that thousands of rivers of blood flowed down to him from the bloody earth caused by the cruel war; Feeling sad and pity.