真挚的友谊(上)

We have lately taken a little journey together, and now we want to take a longer one. Whither? To Sparta, to Mycene, to Delphi? There are a hundred places at whosenames the heart beats with the desire of travel. On horseback we go up the mountainpaths through brake and through brier. A single traveller makes an appearance like awhole caravan. He rides forward with his guide, a packhorse carries trunks, a tent, andprovisions, and a few armed soldiers follow as a guard. No inn with warm beds awaits himat the end of his tiring day's journey: the tent is often his dwelling-place in the great wildregion; the guide cooks him a pilau of rice, fowls, and curry for his supper. A thousandgnats swarm round the tent. It is a miserable night, and tomorrow the way will lead acrossswollen streams; sit fast on your horse that you may not be washed away!

What is your reward for undergoing these hardships? The fullest, richest reward. Nature manifests herself here in all her geatness; every spot is historical, and the eye and the thoughts are alike delighted. The poet may sing it, the painter portray it in richpictures; but the air of reality which sinks deep into the soul of the spectator, and remains there, neither painter nor poet can reproduce.

The lonely herdsman yonder on the hills would, perhaps, by a simple recital of an event in his life, better enlighten you, who wish in a few features to behold the land of theHellenes, than any writer of travel could do.

"Then," says my Muse, "let him speak."

A custom, a good, peculiar custom, shall be the subject of the mountain shepherd's tale. It is called

The Bond of Friendship.

Our rude house was put together of clay; but the door posts were columns of fluted marble found near the spot where the house was erected. The roof reached almost down to the ground. It was now dark brown and ugly, but it had originally consisted of blooming olive and fresh laurel branches brought from beyond the mountain. Around our dwelling was a narrow gorge, whose walls of rock rose steeply upwards, and showed naked and black, and round their summits often hung clouds, like white living figures. Never did I hear a singing bird there, never did the men there dance to the sound of the bagpipe; but the spot was sacred from the old times: even its name reminded of this, for it was called Delphi! The dark solemn mountains were all covered with snow; the highest, which gleamed the longest in the red light of evening, was Parnassus; the brook which flowed from it near our house was once sacred also. Now the ass sullies it with its feet, but the stream rolls on and on, and becomes clear again. How I can remember every spot in the deep holy solitude! In the midst of the hut a fire was kindled, and when the hot ashes lay there red and glowing, the bread was baked in them. When the snow was piled so high around our hut as almost to hide it, my mother appeared most cheerful; then she would hold my head between her hands, kiss my forehead, and sing the songs she never sang at other times, for the Turks our masters would not allow it. She sang:

On the summit of Olympus, in the forest of dwarf firs, lay an old stag. His eyes were heavy with tears; he wept red, green, and even pale blue tears; and there came a roebuck by, and said,' What ails thee, that thou weepest those blue, green, and red tears?' And the stag answered, ' The Turk has come to our village: he has wild dogs for the chase, a goodly pack. ' ' I will drive them away across the island, ' Cried the young roebuck, ' I will drive them away across the islands into the deep sea!' But before evening sank down the roebuck was slain, and before night the stag was hunted and dead.

And when my mother sang thus, her eyes became moist, and on the long eyelashes hung a tear; but she hid it, and baked our black bread in the ashes. Then I would clench my fist and cry.

"We will kill the Turks!"

But she repeated from the song the words, "I will drive them across the islands into the deep sea. But before evening sank down the roebuck was slain, and before the night came the stag was hunted and dead."

For several days and nights we had been lonely in our hut, when my father came home. I knew he would bring me shells from the Gulf of Lepanto, or perhaps even a bright gleaming knife. This time he brought us a child, a little half-naked girl, that he carried under his sheep-skin cloak. It was wrapped in a fur, and all that the little creature possessed when this was taken off, and she lay in my mother's lap, were three silver coins, fastened in her dark hair. My father told us that the Turks had killed the child's parents; and he told so much about them that I dreamed of the Turks all night. He himself had been wounded, and my mother bound up his arm. The wound was deep, and the thick sheep-skin was stiff with frozen blood. The little maiden was to be my sister. How radiantly beautiful she looked! Even my mother's eyes were not more gentle than hers. Anastasia, as she was called, was to be my sister, because her father had been united to mine by the old custom which we still keep. They had sworn brotherhood in their youth, and chosen the most beautiful and virtuous girl in the neighbourhood to consecrate their bond of friendship. I often heard of the strange good custom.

So now the little girl was my sister. She sat in my lap, and I brought her flowers and the feathers of the mountain birds. We drank together of the waters of Parnassus, and slept, cheek to cheek, under the laurel roof of the hut, while my mother sang winter after winter about the red, green, and pale blue tears. But as yet I did not understand that it was my own countrymen whose many sorrows were mirrored in those tears.

One day there came three Frankish men. Their dress was different from ours. They had tents and beds with them on their horses, and more than twenty Turks, all armed with swords and muskets, accompanied them; for they were friends of the pasha, and had letters from him commanding an escort for them. They only came to see our mountains, to ascend Parnassus amid the snow and the clouds, and to look at the strange black steep rocks near our hut. They could not find room in it, nor could they endure the smoke that rolled along the ceiling and found its way out at the low door; therefore they pitched their tents on the small space outside our dwelling, roasted lambs and birds, and poured out strong sweet wine, of which the Turks were not allowed to partake.

When they departed, I accompanied them for some distance, carrying my little sister Anastasia, wrapped in a goat-skin, on my back. One of the Frankish gentlemen made me stand in front of a rock, and drew me, and her too, as we stood there, so that we looked like one creature. I never thought of it before, but Anastasia and I were really one. She was always sitting in my lap or riding in the goat-skin at my back, and when I dreamed, she appeared in my dreams.

Two nights afterwards, other men, armed with knives and muskets, came into our tent. They were Albanians, brave men, my mother told me. They only stayed a short time. My sister Anastasia sat on the knee of one of them, and when they were gone she had not three, but only two silver coins in her hair. They wrapped tobacco in strips of paper and smoked it. I remember they were undecided as to the road they were to take.

But they had to make a choice. They went, and my father went with them. Soon afterwards we heard the sound of loud firing, soldiers rushed into our tent, and took my mother, and myself, and my sister Anastasia prisoners. They declared that the robbers had been entertained by us, and that my father had acted as the robbers' guide, and therefore we must go with them. Presently I saw the bodies of the robbers brought in; I saw my father's body too. I cried and cried till I fell asleep. When I awoke, we were in prison, but the room was not worse than ours in our own house. They gave me onions to eat, and musty wine poured from a tarry cask, but we had no better fare at home.

How long we were kept prisoners I do not know; but many days and nights went by. When we were set free it was the time of the holy Easter feast. I carried Anastasia on my back, for my mother was ill, and could only move slowly, and it was a long way till we came down to the sea, to the Gulf of Lepanto. We went into a church that gleamed with pictures painted on a golden ground. They were pictures of angels, and very beautiful; but it seemed to me that our little Anastasia was just as beautiful. In the middle of the floor stood a coffin filled with roses. "The Lord Christ is pictured there in the form of a beautiful rose," said my mother; and the priest announced, "Christ is risen!" All the people kissed each other; each one had a burning taper in his hand, and I received one myself, and so did little Anastasia. The bagpipes sounded, men danced hand in hand from the church, and outside the women were roasting the Easter lamb. We were invited to partake, and I sat by the fire; a boy, older than myself, put his arms around my neck, kissed me, and said, "Christ is risen!" and thus it was that for the first time I met Aphtanides.

My mother could make fishermen's nets, for which there was a good demand here in the bay, and we lived a long time by the side of the sea, the beautiful sea, that tasted like tears, and in its colours reminded me of the song of the stag that wept--for sometimes its waters were red, and sometimes green or blue.

我们最近一起作了一次小小的旅行，现在正准备再来一次远足。去哪里呢？去斯巴达、迈锡尼，还是德尔菲？有上百个地方都能激起旅行的欲望，让人怦然心动。我们骑着马，穿过矮树林和荆棘丛，沿山道而上。一个旅行者上了路，摆出一个商队的气派。他和自己的向导在前面骑行。一匹马驮着行李箱，一个帐篷，还有各种生活用品。几个全付武装的士兵跟在后面护卫。在他一天疲惫的旅行的终点，没有备着温暖床铺的小旅馆恭候他。那个帐篷常常是他在空旷野外的寄身之处。向导给他做了一碗加肉饭，一些鸡肉，还有一些咖哩粉，这就是他的晚餐。帐篷外面围着各种小昆虫。这是一个可怕的夜晚，明天他们将穿越涨水的河流。可得在马背上坐稳了，不然就会被洪水冲走！

经历这些艰辛，能得到怎样的回报？当然是最充实、最丰厚的回报。在这里，大自然将她伟大的秘密尽情地向你展示。每一处都是值得回味的，目光和思想都为之一亮。诗人将用诗歌来赞颂它；画家将用绚丽的画作来描绘它，但真情实景将沉入观赏者的灵魂深处，这是任何一个画家和诗人力所不及的。

也许，对于想通过廖廖数语，就让希腊展现于眼前的您来说，那边山坡上孤独的牧人，仅仅叙述一段自己的生活经历，就会比任何一位旅行作家的文字更能打动你。

“那么，”诗神缪斯说，“让他开口吧。”一个风俗，一个美好、奇特的风俗，是这个山间牧人讲述的故事的主题。故事名字叫

真挚的友谊

我们简易的房屋是用泥土垒成的，门柱是带有刻槽的大理石，它们是在房屋的附近找到的。屋顶斜拉下来，都快碰到地面了。现在，屋顶已经成了棕黑色，怪难看的，但当初它是用开花的橄榄枝和新鲜的桂树枝做成的，这些东西从山上采集而来。在我们的住地周围，是窄窄的峡谷，石壁高耸，光光的，黑黑的。在石壁顶端，经常挂着云彩，像白色的生灵一样。在那里，我从没有听过一只鸟儿的歌唱，也从未见过有人在风笛声中起舞，但这儿自古就是神圣的，它的名字也昭示了这一点，因为它叫德尔菲！黑黝黝的、肃穆的山上，峰顶覆盖着皑皑白雪，而最高的一座，就是在傍晚的红霞中闪耀得最久的，就是帕那萨斯山。山上涌出的溪水，流经我们的房屋附近，这水从前也是神圣的。现在，一头毛驴正用蹄子把水搅浑，但溪水流呀流，很快又变得清澈了。神圣而深沉的寂静中的任何一处，我记得都那么清晰！在小屋的中间，燃着一堆火。灼热的火灰红红地闪耀的时候，面包就可以放在里面烤了。当雪在我们的小屋四周高高地堆起，差点儿掩住房子的时候，我妈妈就高兴得不得了，她会用双手托着我的脑袋，亲吻我的额头，唱着她在其他场合下从未唱过的歌谣――因为我们的统治者，土耳其人，不允许人们唱。她唱道：

“在奥林匹斯山顶，在矮小的枞树丛中，躺着一头年老的赤鹿。它的眼里满含泪水，流出了红色、绿色，甚至淡蓝色的泪。这时，一头黄斑鹿从此路过，说，‘你为什么这么难过，竟然流出蓝泪、绿泪和红泪？’赤鹿答道，‘土耳其人进了村子。他带了一群打猎用的野狗――大群猎狗。’‘我要把它们赶出这个岛！’年轻的黄斑鹿叫道，‘我要把它们赶出这个岛，赶进深海里去。’但在夜幕降临前，黄斑鹿就被杀死了。天刚黑的时候，赤鹿也被猎杀。”

当妈妈唱这支歌的时候，她的双眼湿润了，长长的睫毛上挂着泪花，但她躲着不让人看见，在火灰里给我们烤面包。这时，我就握紧拳头，喊道：

“我们要杀掉土耳其人！”

她又重唱了一遍歌儿：

“我要把它们赶出这个岛，赶进深海里去。但在夜幕降临前，黄斑鹿就被杀死了。天刚黑的时候，赤鹿也被猎杀。”

当爸爸回到家的时候，我们已经在小屋里孤独地过了好几个白天和黑夜了。我知道，他会从勒庞多湾给我带回贝壳，或者带回一把闪闪发光的刀子。这次他给我们带回一个小孩，一个衣不蔽体的小姑娘。爸爸把她放在自己的羊皮衣服里抱着。她被包在一张羊皮里。这张皮脱去时，她躺在了我妈妈的膝盖上。她有的东西，只是三枚系在头发上的银币。爸爸对我们说，土耳其人杀死了孩子的父母。他讲了那么多关于土耳其人的事，我整夜都梦着他们。爸爸也受了伤，妈妈把他的胳膊包扎起来。伤口很深，那张厚厚的羊皮外衣，已经被凝固了的血弄硬了。小女孩将做我的妹妹。她看上去多么美，多么光彩照人！连我妈妈的眼睛也不比她的眼睛更温柔。安娜斯达西亚――这是她的名字，她将成为我的妹妹，因为根据我们至今仍保持的古老的风俗，她的爸爸已经和我的爸爸结义。他俩年轻的时候已结为兄弟，还选了一位最美丽、最贤慧的邻家女子来见证他们永恒的友谊。我常常听说这种奇异、美好的风俗。

所以，现在这个小女孩就成了我的妹妹。她坐在我的膝盖上，我还给她采来鲜花，带来山上鸟儿的羽毛。我们一起喝帕那萨斯山流出的清水，还脸贴着脸，在小屋的桂枝屋顶上一起入睡。而妈妈一个冬天接一个冬天地唱着那支红眼泪、绿眼泪、浅蓝色眼泪的歌儿。但我当时不懂，在这些泪珠里，映射出的是我自己的无数同胞的哀愁。

一天，来了三个佛兰克人。他们的服装和我们的不一样，他们的马背上放了帐篷和床。有超过二十个土耳其人跟在后面，都带着剑和毛瑟枪。因为这三个人是土耳其总督的朋友，他们带着他的信件，要求派人护送。他们是来欣赏我们的山脉的，爬那云雪覆盖的帕拉萨斯山，游览我们小屋附近奇异陡峭的黑山崖。他们在我们的小屋里找不到空地，同时也受不了炊烟――炊烟在屋顶下盘旋，然后又从低矮的房门飘出去。他们只好把帐篷搭在我们家附近的一小块空地上，烤羊和鸟吃，还倒出香味浓烈的好酒――但土耳其人不敢品尝。

当他们离开的时候，我跟着他们走了一段，把小妹妹安娜斯达西亚包在羊皮里，背在背上。一位佛兰克先生让我站在一块石头前面，画我和我妹妹。我们站在那里，看起来像是一个人。我从来没有想到会是这样，但安娜斯达西亚实际上和我也就是一个人。她总是坐在我的膝上，或者裹着羊皮躺在我的背上。我做梦的时候，她也出现在我的梦里。

两个夜晚之后，其他一些人，也都佩戴着刀子和毛瑟枪，来到我们的小屋。妈妈告诉我，他们是阿尔巴尼亚勇士。他们只作了短暂的停留。有一次，我的妹妹安娜斯达西亚坐在一个人的膝上。但当他们离开的时候，她头发上的银币不再是三枚，而变成了两枚了。他们把烟叶卷在纸卷里，然后就吸烟。我记得他们曾犹豫不决，不知道该走哪条道。

但他们必须作出选择。他们走了，爸爸也跟他们一起去。不久我们听到震耳的枪声，一群士兵冲进我们的小屋，俘虏了妈妈、我和妹妹安娜斯达西亚。他们宣布，我们窝藏了土匪，还说我爸爸给土匪当向导，因此我们必须跟他们走。我看到了“土匪”们的尸体，也看到了爸爸的尸体。我哭呀，哭呀，直到昏睡过去。我醒来时，发现我们被关在监狱里，但牢房和我们家的小破屋也差不多。他们给我们洋葱吃，还从一个漆皮袋里倒出发霉的酒给我们喝。不过我们在家吃的东西，也不比这里的好。

我不知道我们在这里被关了多久，总之过了许许多多的白天和黑夜。当我们被放出来的时候，正是复活节。我背着安娜斯达西亚，因为妈妈病了，只能蹒跚而行。我们走了很远，才来到海边，就是勒庞多湾。我们走进一座教堂，金色背景上的神像熠熠生辉。这些绘画画的是一群天使，十分漂亮。但在我看来，我们的小安娜斯达西亚也和他们一样美丽。在地板上，有一具小棺材，里面装满了玫瑰。“主基督以玫瑰花的形象出现在那儿，”妈妈说。然后神父宣布，“基督升天了！”所有的人都互相亲吻，每个人都手持一枝燃烧的蜡烛，我也得到了一枝，小安娜斯达西亚也不例外。风笛吹响了，男人们手拉手，跳着舞出了教堂，女人们在外面烤复活节食用的小羊。我们也受到了邀请，我坐在了火堆边。一个男孩，比我大一些，用胳膊搂住我的脖子，吻了我，说：“基督升天了！”这是我第一次遇见阿夫坦尼蒂斯。

我妈妈会织渔网，在这个海湾地带，渔网可是需求量很大的东西。我们在海边生活了很久。这美丽的大海，海水的味道就像眼泪一样，海水的颜色又让我想起了那支歌里唱到的赤鹿的眼泪――因为海水有时是红的，有时是绿的，有时又是蓝的。（未完待续）