The Wanderer

Начало книги

A DECISION once taken brings peace to a man’s mind and eases his soul. With my brother Andy and my dog Rael I had turned my back upon Rome and all Christendom and had started on my way to the Holy Land to atone for my sins.

And so when I stood, free as a bird, in the great square of that city of marvels, Venice, I seemed to have risen from the stinking darkness of the grave to a new life. The sights and smells of carnage and the plague in Rome grew fainter in my mind. My body breathed deeply of the sea wind, and my eager eyes gazed their fill at all the Turks, Jews, Moors, and Negroes moving freely about in their varied dress. I seemed to be standing at the gates of the fabled Orient, and I was seized by an irresistible desire to behold strange peoples, and the countries whence those proud vessels, flying the Lion of St. Mark, had sailed into the city.

Neither Andy nor I had anything to fear from the officials of the illustrious Republic, and could settle there or travel as we wished. I had obtained from a shrewd Venetian at an exorbitant price a pass to which was attached a notary’s seal. Since I felt confident that no one knew anything of so remote and obscure a country as my native Finland, I gave my true Finnish name of Mikael Karvajalka. This appeared on the document as Michael Carvajal, for which reason I was afterward alleged to be of Spanish birth, although it was expressly stated on the document that I had formerly belonged to the court of the King of Denmark and had rendered useful service to the Signoria of Venice at the sack of Rome in that summer of 1527.

Читать дальше →