{"id":6666,"date":"2020-07-10T12:01:00","date_gmt":"2020-07-10T12:01:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/?page_id=6666"},"modified":"2020-07-10T12:01:03","modified_gmt":"2020-07-10T12:01:03","slug":"the-last-emperor-of-byzantium-the-last-chapter-my-son-my-konstantine-2","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/the-last-emperor-of-byzantium-the-last-chapter-my-son-my-konstantine-2\/","title":{"rendered":"The last Emperor of Byzantium, the last chapter \u201cMy son, my Konstantine\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"
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<\/div>\n
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My son, my golden eagle.<\/em><\/h4>\n<\/blockquote>\n

No, I cannot continue. I hear the hoof-beats and say, I have\u00a0finished my narrative, I place the manuscript in my bag, to\u00a0hand it over to my Constantine, who is on his way. I put it away quickly, because the hoof-beats are louder and closer and, this\u00a0time, yes, it is true.<\/p>\n

I go to the doorway and look out at the road. My heart is trembling,
\nbeating wildly, it will burst, I tell myself, because it is my Constantine who is coming, my Constantine is coming. He is dressed in dark clothing, gray or charcoal, black, and he is handsome as an angel on his white horse, no I cannot write anything more about the calamity. I did not have time to talk about the Cretan sailors, who fought on alone until late afternoon, when the Sultan came into The City, or about how our last flag was lowered from the Fort of Alexios near the Horaia Gate. And I wanted also to tell about the terrible night I passed in the sea-tower, among our dead, from where I heard the wailing and the heart-rending cries of the wretched people bound in chains and of others who ran, frantic, toward the ships, begging for passage. From\u00a0the small embrasure I could see the moon that was disappearing in its\u00a0impassive orbit, that last moon, whose light was aggrieved by the\u00a0prophecy that came to pass.<\/p>\n

But I cannot recount any more about the disaster, because my\u00a0Constantine is coming now, the son of Eleni. It is he who will\u00a0be the first to hear the trumpet of the Angel, he who will receive the sword that I was not worthy to receive, from the hand of the\u00a0Angel. It is he who will enter the Imperial City as its liberator at the\u00a0appointed hour, as the new prophecy foretells. He, who will go to wake\u00a0the Basileus who was transformed into marble, to bring him back alive\u00a0and covered with blood.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

My Constantine is coming, I see the dust of his horse\u00a0hooves, just as they were in the silver depths of the\u00a0mirror. he is coming\u2026 he bestrides mountains and\u00a0gorges, or so it seems to me. his horse does not touch the ground, it\u00a0dances on air and the flowering fields rise up on tiptoe to watch him.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

And I tell myself that he could only have come in May, which is the\u00a0month of the crucifixion and the glorious rebirth, the month of
\nsacrifice and of hosannas.<\/p>\n

I stand at the door of the cell, a small house, now, and I cannot\u00a0take even one step, my body is paralyzed. But my Eleni runs.<\/p>\n

She is able to. She saw him first and runs. Perhaps she, too,\u00a0heard the hoof-beats or perhaps the wild beating of her heart, and she runs, she can wait no longer. She collapses and falls and gets up\u00a0again, \u201cI did not hold you to my breast in your fifth year\u2026 did not\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>sing to you in your sixth\u2026 did not keep watch by your pillow in your\u00a0seventh\u2026 did not see the sadness in your eyes in your tenth\u2026 did not\u00a0take pride in you in your thirteenth\u2026,\u201d and she runs into the silken\u00a0morning that had saved all its emerald dew and all its fragrance of\u00a0rebirth for this sublime moment, for this horseman who is coming on\u00a0his white horse.<\/strong><\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I am holding the pearl cross in my hand. It is what united us, I tell
\nmyself. It is what will complete the circle of time, like a precious ring\u00a0with a pearl on your heart, Imperial City.
\nHe knew that he would find me here, on the hilltop, he knew.<\/p>\n

And he gallops, gallops like the wind and like the upright,\u00a0golden wave; he gallops, scattering wreaths of sparks on\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>
\nthe crystal of the morning in his passing.<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The road grows
\nshorter, he is here, I tell myself, and there, he is dismounting, sees his\u00a0mother, they are embracing and both are weeping now. Soon, in two\u00a0moments, one\u2026 an archangel with amber eyes like mine, long ago, and\u00a0he sees me, smiles, surely he recognizes me. The mark on his forehead\u00a0must be glowing, like mine, that, that is what brings him to me, I tell\u00a0myself, the sign.<\/p>\n

\u00a0A<\/strong>n archangel, yes, and the light of seven suns shines on his\u00a0face, two moments more, one, half, my hands tremble and\u00a0my body is collapsing, I cannot hold it up, a little longer my God, a little longer, my Constantine is coming, a little longer, and\u00a0the tears dull my vision, ah what sweet tears awaited me, what a sweet\u00a0death\u2026 A little longer\u2026 my breast aches, and I hold out my arms now,\u00a0hold them out wide to clutch him to my breast.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

My Constantine is coming\u2026\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>
\nMy Constantine is here!\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>
\nMy son, my Constantine\u2026<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

My son, my golden eagle!\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

The last chapter of the novel\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My son, my golden eagle. No, I cannot continue. I hear the hoof-beats and say, I have\u00a0finished my narrative, I place the manuscript in my bag, to\u00a0hand it over to my Constantine, who is on his way. I put it away quickly, because the hoof-beats are louder and closer and, this\u00a0time, yes, it is true. […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","spay_email":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6666"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6666"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6666\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6668,"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6666\/revisions\/6668"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/marialampadaridoupothou.gr\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6666"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}