Chapter 26 Chapter Twenty-Five

Amsterdam's train station is already very familiar to me - I've passed by it dozens of times, but never alone.This time, for the first time, I felt complete freedom.I scavenged the change in the kitchen to replenish my purse.Now that one bad thing has been done, it doesn't hurt to do twenty more.I also stole other things.I took a silver knife from the living room.I don't know how this little blade will protect me, but I feel a little more at ease with it in my bag. I found a quiet box and drew down the curtains on one side of the aisle, hoping no one would sit with me.But after a while, a middle-aged woman in a blue overcoat and blue hat came in with a stack of Dutch magazines in her hand. She smiled at me and sat down.Sitting in a comfortable corner, I opened my father's first letter again.I know the opening sentences by heart, and I remember the astonishing shape of the words, the astonishing place and time, the firm, eager handwriting.

"My dear daughter: "Forgive me, but by the time you read this I have already set off to find your mother. For many years I believed she was dead, but now I am not so sure. "In the past few months, I have tried my best to correct my shortcomings by telling you about my past bit by bit. Although your mother broke into my life suddenly, I still Going to slowly bring her into the story. Now I'm afraid that before I can tell you everything you should know and inherit, someone will force me to be silent—that is, I can't go on—or I will be silent myself. "I've already told you about my graduate life before you were born, and about my supervisor who disappeared mysteriously after confessing to me. I also told you that I met a girl named Helen who was just as interested in finding Luo as I was." Professor West was interested, maybe more so than I. Whenever I could calm down, I tried to continue, but now I feel that I should start writing the rest of the story, clearly on paper .If now you can only read what I write, instead of listening to me tell the story from a steep peak or a calm square, some safe haven or some comfortable coffee table, then the fault will be on me, yes I didn't speak soon enough or tell you earlier.

"Why didn't I tell you all this history in one breath, get over it all at once, and say it all? The answer lies in my weakness. In fact, what kind of story can be completely reduced to a few facts? So, I One story at a time. I have to hazard a guess how much I should have told you when these letters came into your hands." My father's guess was not very accurate.He's telling the story a little faster. What makes me sad is that I may never know what Helen Rossi's reaction was when he unexpectedly decided to go with him to find Professor Rossi, nor did I know how they traveled from New England to Istanbul fun.I don't know how they deal with so many forms, cross political barriers, get visas and go through customs?Had he lied to his parents, nice and rational Bostonians, about his sudden decision to travel?Did he go to New York right away with Helen as planned?Did they sleep in the same room at the hotel?My young mind could not help formulating these mysteries, but could not solve them.In the end I could only see them as two characters in a youth drama, Helen sprawled discreetly, sleeping on a double bed, and my father huddled pitifully in an armchair with nothing off but his shoes.Outside the window, the lights of Times Square flickered mesmerizingly.

"Six days after Rosie went missing, we flew from Idlewild to Istanbul on a foggy night with a connecting flight in Frankfurt. The next morning the plane landed in Istanbul. I felt fresh about everything and there was a bit of a fuss about it. , Helen laughed beside me, 'Welcome to the big world, Yankee,' she said, and smiled. It was a real smile. "Helen has never been here either, she looks at everything quietly and intently. Only once in the taxi did she turn around and say to me that seeing the source of the Ottoman Empire - she used the word - felt How strange. The Ottoman Empire left many traces in her homeland.

"I thought, Helen likes to run errands, why not do what she likes? We have an unspoken agreement that I will pay the bills. I will withdraw all my savings from domestic banks. Even if I fail , Rosie is worth my effort. Even if I fail in the end, I will just go home penniless. I know Helen is a foreign student who probably has nothing and can hardly make a living. I have found that she seems to have only two suits. By changing old shirts in different cuts, 'Yes, we live in two adjacent studios,' she told the landlady, a dignified old Armenian woman, 'my brother—brother—snores so badly Great." "Snoring?" I asked from the couch.

"'It's just snoring,' she said sharply. 'You're just snoring, you know. I never closed my eyes in New York.' 'Didn't close my eyes,' I corrected. "'Okay,' she said, 'close your door and shut up.' Snoring or not, we're going to get some sleep to wash away the fatigue of the journey before we can do anything. It was almost evening when I searched the streets and scanned the various gardens and courtyards. "Rossi did not name the archive in his letter. When we spoke, he referred to it only as 'an obscure repository of material, established by Sultan Mehmed II.' about the research he did in Istanbul. The letter added that the Archives was an annexe of a seventeenth-century mosque. Besides that, we also know that the Hajja Sophia is visible from a window in the Archives, which has at least two floors , there is a door on the first floor leading directly to the street. Before leaving, I searched carefully for the materials of this archive in the school library, but could not find it. I found it strange that Rossi did not mention the name of the archive in his letter. Omit such details Not like him, but maybe he can't bear to recall. I have all his papers in my briefcase, including the list of documents he found there, and the ending is strange. It goes like this: 'Bibliography, Long It is no exaggeration to say that it was a daunting undertaking to search the entire city, wandering through the labyrinth of minarets and temples, to find the origin of Roshi's mysterious lines.

"The only thing we could do was turn around and walk towards Hagia Sophia, our landmark. It was originally the Hagia Sophia from the Byzantine period. Once we got close to it, it was impossible not to go in and take a look. The gates were wide open and the huge The temple sucked us in, along with the other tourists, like riding a wave into a cave. For fourteen hundred years, I think, pilgrims have come here as we do now. I walked slowly towards the center, Looking back at the vast and sacred space, at its dizzying temples and arches, pouring in the divine light, Arabic script carved on the upper corner shield, and the church below the ruins of the ancient world. It The dome of the sky is just above us, high above us, replicating the old Byzantine astrology chart. I can't believe I'm in it. I'm dumbfounded.

"Recalling that moment, I now understand that I lived so long in books, in that cramped ivory tower, that I unknowingly restricted my vision. In this magnificent Byzantine building - this historical miracle In--my spirit suddenly jumped out of the cage. At that moment, I knew that no matter what happened, I could never go back to the old bondage. I wanted to rise and expand outward with life, like this The wide inner room seemed to sublimate upwards and outwards. My heart swelled with it in a way I had never felt in my wanderings in Dutch commercial history. "I took one look at Helen and knew she was just as deeply moved. She was like me, with her head on one side, a lock of black curls falling over her shirt collar, and her normally wary and mocking face was now all hazy. Detachment. Impulsively I reached out and grabbed hers, and she took mine too. I already knew that strong, almost bony squeeze when I shook hands with hers. After a while , she seemed to come to herself and let go of my hand, but without embarrassment. We roamed around the church together, admiring the beautiful pulpit, the gleaming Byzantine marble. It took me a while to remember that during our stay in Istanbul, Come to Hagia Sofia any time, but our first priority in this city is to find the archives. Helen obviously thought the same, as she was walking towards the exit, and so was I. We made our way through the crowd, back to on the street.

"'The archives may be far away,' she thought, 'in this part of the city, you can see Hagia Sophia from almost any building, even from the other side of the Bosphorus It. It's too big.', 'I know. We have to find other clues. The letter said that the archives were an annexe of a small mosque in the seventeenth century.', 'This city is full of mosques!',' That’s right.” I flicked through the guidebook I bought in a hurry, “Let’s start here—the Great Mosque of the Sultan. Muhammad II and his ministers may sometimes worship there—it Built in the late fifteenth century, it is symbolic logic that his library will eventually be built in this area, what do you think?' Helen thought it was worth a try, so we set off on foot. Along the way, I browsed the guidebook again, 'Listen to this, it says Istanbul is a Byzantine word meaning city. You see, even the Ottomans couldn't destroy Constantinople, they had to rename it Byzantine. Here it says that the Byzantine Empire started from AD 33 Three years stretched to 1453. Think—how, how long this twilight of power lasted.” Helen nodded, “Thinking about this part of the world can’t get around Byzantium,” she said seriously, “You know , in Romania, its traces can be seen everywhere - in every church, on frescoes, in monasteries, even on people's faces. The top layer of Romanian culture is Ottoman, which is closer to Byzantium than here.' Her face Somber, 'Mehmed II's conquest of Constantinople in 1453 was one of the worst tragedies in history. He bombarded the walls with cannons and then sent troops into the city to burn, kill, and pillage for three days. Soldiers in Girls and boys were raped on the altars of churches, even in Hagia Sophia. They stole icons and other sacred objects, melted them into gold, and they threw relics of saints in the streets to feed dogs. Before that, here was history The most beautiful city." Her hands were clenched into fists at her waist.

"I was silent. No matter how cruel things happened long ago, this city is still beautiful, still has elegant and rich colors, with graceful temples and minarets. I began to understand why that evil moment five hundred years ago was so important to Helen. It’s so true, but what does it really have to do with the life in front of us? A thought flashed in my mind: I ran all the way here with this complicated woman, came to this wonderful city, maybe I got nothing, And the Brit I was looking for was probably on the coach to New York. I swallowed the thought to tease her, 'How do you know so much about history? I thought you were just an anthropologist.'

"'I'm an anthropologist,' she said gravely, 'but you can't study culture apart from history.' 'Then why don't you just be a historian? I think you can still study culture.' , 'Maybe,' she now put on a repulsive look, unwilling to meet my eyes, "but I want to study something my father hasn't figured out yet. "In the golden twilight, the doors of the Great Mosque are still open, facing tourists as well as believers. The gatekeeper is a young man with brown skin and curly hair-what did Byzantines look like in the past?-I asked He tried my broken German and he said there was no library, no archives, nothing like that, and he had never heard of a building like this around. We asked him for an idea. "He thought about it and said, we can go to the school and try. As for the small mosques, there are hundreds of them. "'It's too late to go to school today,' said Helen to me, as she was studying a guidebook, 'tomorrow we could go and ask the people there if they have archives from the time of Muhammad. I think that's the most efficient way. We Let's go see the old city walls of Constantinople. We walk from here and we can see a section of it.' She scouts the road ahead, and I follow through the streets. She wears gloves and holds a guide Manuals, black handbags on arms. Bicycles whiz by us, Ottoman tunics mixed with suits, foreign cars and carriages weaving together. Black waistcoats and little crocheted hats for the men as far as the eye can see, and for the women Brightly colored shirts, knickerbockers, scarves wrapped around the head, shopping bags, baskets, bundles, or crates with chickens, bread, and flowers. The streets are alive—I think, sixteen hundred This has been the case for years. The Christian emperors of Rome had their entourage carry them through these streets, accompanied by priests, from palaces to churches, to communion. They were powerful rulers, masters of art, engineering, and theology. Benefactor. Some of them are also very cruel. They strictly follow the Roman tradition, killing courtiers and blinding their families. This is where the original Byzantine politics ended. Maybe this place is not exotic enough to be a vampire hotbed. "Helen paused in front of a tall stone building. The house was partly crumbled, the plinths were crowded with shops, and fig trees took root on its sides. On the battlements, the clear sky was fading to bronze,' look What's left of the walls of Constantinople,' she said calmly, 'you can see how great the walls were when they were complete. The books say that once upon a time the sea came to the foot of the walls and the emperors could go out in boats .Over there, that wall is part of the racetrack.' 'Let's go get something to eat,' I said suddenly, 'it's past seven, and we have to go to bed early tonight. Tomorrow I am determined to find the Archives. Helen nodded. We walked through the heart of the old city like a pair of good friends, all the way back. "We found a restaurant near our apartment, and the waiter brought us large loaves of bread, a plate of smooth yoghurt with slices of cucumber scattered on it, and fragrant tea in glass bottles. We were about to eat Grilled chicken on a wooden fork, at this time, a man with silver beard and silver hair walked into the restaurant. He was wearing a neat gray suit, glanced around, picked a seat not far from us and sat down, put a book At the plate. He ordered in calm Turkish, and then, as if to share in our joy of eating, he leaned over with a friendly smile and said, 'You can see that you like our local food. ’ His English was accented, but he spoke it very well. "'Of course,' I replied in surprise, 'delicious food.' 'Ah, yes. That's nice. You're sightseeing in our beautiful city, aren't you?' 'Yes, that's right,' I agreed. , secretly hoped that Helen would show at least a little friendliness, since she would be more or less suspicious if she was very hostile. "'Welcome to Istanbul,' he said, laughing happily, and raised his beaker to us. I saluted him back, 'I'm a professor at Istanbul University,' and his tone remained dignified. "'Ah, what luck!' I exclaimed. 'We were—' Just then Helen stepped on me. Like all the women of that time, she wore high-heeled pumps with sharply pointed heels. , 'It's a pleasure to meet you,' I said, 'What do you teach?' 'My field of study is Shakespeare,' said our new friend, 'I thought, when you were in Istanbul, why didn't you How about going to see our school? It's a respectable school too, and I'd be glad to show you and your pretty wife around.' I heard Helen snort softly, and hastened to cover it for her,' My sister—sister.' 'Oh, excuse me.' The Shakespeare scholar bowed to Helen across the table. 'I am Dr. Turgut Bola at your service.' We also Introduced myself—I was the one who introduced us actually, because Helen was so stubborn she didn't talk. I could see she wasn't happy about my real name, so I hastened to say her name was Smith. Her frown deepened at her stupid name. We shook hands, and I had no choice but to invite him to dinner. "He declined politely, but after a short while, brought over his salad and carafe and sat with us. Immediately he held up the tea bottle and said, 'Regards, and welcome to our beautiful city,'" Prof. Recited, 'Cheers!' Even Helen smiled, though she remained silent. 'You must forgive me for my recklessness,' Turgut seemed to sense her vigilance, and said apologetically,' I rarely get a chance to speak to English speaking people and practice my English.' He hasn't figured out yet that she's not English speaking. I think maybe he'll never know that because she might never talk to him Say a word. "'How did you come to take Shakespeare as your profession?' I asked him as we continued eating. "'Ah!' said Turgut softly, 'that is very strange. My mother was a very unusual woman--very clever--who was studying at the University of Rome, and there met my father, who was very pleasant, An expert on the Italian Renaissance, with a particular fondness for—'We were listening with gusto when a young girl appeared outside the arched window and interrupted us. Although I've only seen gypsies in photographs, I'm sure She is. You can't tell the age in her thin face. She is holding red and yellow flowers, obviously wanting us to buy flowers. I was just pulling out my wallet to present Helen-- It was a joke, of course—a bouquet of Turkish flowers. Suddenly, the gypsy turned to her, pointed at her, and hissed. Turgut froze, and Helen, who was usually fearless, backed away. "Helen's appearance seemed to bring Turgut back to his senses. He half stood up, frowned angrily, and began to reprimand the gypsy. His tone of voice and gestures were not difficult to understand. This was to let her know without hesitation. She left. She stared at us and disappeared, as suddenly as she appeared, among the passers-by. Turgut sat down and looked at Helen with wide eyes. After a while, he fumbled in the pocket of his jacket A small object was produced and placed beside her saucer. It was a blue stone, about an inch long, on a white and light blue background, like a natural eye. Helen turned pale when she saw it, and stretched out instinctively. Touch it with your index finger. "'What the hell is going on?' I was irritated by being culturally excluded. "'What did she just say?' Helen said to Turgut for the first time. 'Is she speaking Turkish or Gypsy? I don't understand her.' Our new friend hesitated, as if not wanting to Repeating the woman's words, 'Turkish,' he murmured, 'maybe what I told you was not a good thing, her words were rude and strange.' He looked at Helen with interest, but there was a flicker of kindness in his eyes. Afraid, 'she used a word I don't want to translate,' he explained slowly, 'and she said, get out of here, daughter of the Romanian wolf. You and your friends brought the vampire's curse to our city.' Helen I tried not to pull her hand, "It's just a coincidence," I reassured her, but she glared at me. I talked too much in front of the professor. "Turgut looked at me, looked at Helen, and looked at me again. 'This is indeed very strange, my friends,' said he, 'I think we can ignore it and continue talking.' In spite of my father's engrossing story, I almost dozed off on the train.I read his letters all night and for the first time I slept late and tired.I put the letter in my lap and clutched it tightly, but my eyelids began to droop.The kind-hearted woman in the seat opposite had already fallen asleep, still holding a magazine. As soon as I closed my eyes, the door of the box opened suddenly, an angry voice broke in, and then a slender figure squeezed between me and my daydream, 'Well, I think you are so brave.I searched every compartment for you. 'It's Barry.He wiped his forehead and reprimanded me.