【Book of Hours/司辰之书】1815: Kissing the Twins 原文及翻译
1815: 亲吻双子
摘自威廉·柯尔特·霍尔爵士《给意大利旅行者的提示》的附录，1815 年。
马鲁维姆(MARRUVIUM)过去是马尔鲁维姆人(Marruvii)的主要城市，他们是一个多次反抗罗马的山地民族。在其最终被镇压后，这座城市被设为罗马殖民地。如今，它是拉奎拉省的一个市镇，圣贝内代托-代尔马西(San Benedetto dei Marsi)，总的来说没有什么值得向年轻游客推荐的地方。这里的圣亚割妮小教堂(St Agnes)有一种阴郁的魅力，整个小镇位于富奇诺湖(Fucino)岸边，虽说名声不太好，但风景如画。克劳迪乌斯皇帝(Claudius)认定该湖是疟疾的源头。读者将会记得我在这里的庞普廷沼泽(Pomptine Marsh)失去了一位重要的朋友，贺拉斯(Horace)将其视为女巫的来源。我现在想知道贺拉斯的评价是否正确，但我不应该以身试险。
富奇诺湖的水位曾多次下降，但每当排水系统失灵时，水位又会缓慢回升，因此即使现在，当地人仍将湖边区域称为“干涸之地”。人们曾在这些枯水的地方发现了一件青铜器，上面刻有马尔鲁维姆语的古老铭文，现在被保存在当地教堂里。牧师非常强调其危险性——它被湖中女巫触碰过——但无论如何，他还是会把它展示给那些好奇的人——只需付出一小笔捐款。
至于这些女巫，它们出现在梦中，尤其是当一个人在一面破裂且未被遮盖的镜子前做梦时。在满月的夜晚，它们从湖中升起，诱使诞下不受欢迎的多胞胎，激发激情主导的愚行，并促使肉体的结合。当地人向圣亚割妮寻求庇护，但我也看到他们制作有着两个头颅与四条手臂的人偶来安抚湖中女巫。
至于我为什么来到圣贝内代托-代马尔西：我在罗马听说这里的青铜器上的铭文采用了其他地方没有的文字，而我想对这文字进行研究和记录。 我的消息是正确的，这铭文很不寻常，我保留了笔记以供研究；但我可以证明这个铭文还存在于一本书中，该地区的一位女士好心地向我展示了这本书。她说，这本书是非卖品，同时要求我承诺，我不会向其他人谈论她或她的同伴。然后我被允许检查这本书。 它不是来自马尔鲁维姆时代——而是晚得多的时代——也许是查理曼时期的。 那女人和她的同伴向我讲述了这本书的起源和关于湖中女巫的荒诞故事，当他们警告我这本书的危险性时，我并未在意。 但这个故事至少是真实的：书页边缘像理发师的剃刀一样锋利，我的手被严重割伤，不得不用手帕包住。
我想找个医生以免伤口恶化，但医生喝醉了，所以我的房东带我去了圣亚割妮圣所。我不是会将牧师当作医生的人，但我确信，自罗马时代以来，圣所一直是一个有着治愈力量的地方，更何况我的伤口非常之深。
尽管如此，当我到达那里时，牧师不肯为我包扎伤口，并声称伤口对亚割妮来说是神圣的。 但他答应从我的肉里吸出毒液，我坐在祭坛台阶上，他把嘴放在我的伤口上，随后我便失去了知觉。 当我醒来时，牧师正大发雷霆，拒绝继续为我服务。在晕眩与恐惧中，我几乎失去了理解意大利语的能力，但我听明白了一点：“双子！你亲吻了双子！”
我的伤口最终并没有完全消失，我将带着伤疤来讲述这样一个故事。也许神父的帮助终究是有用的。 每当满月时，我仍会梦见圣贝内代托-代尔马西，以及我在那本书的书页上看到的图画。
PS1: 马尔鲁维姆人(Marruvii): 在铁器时代居住在亚平宁半岛（意大利）上的古老民族，富奇诺语（Fucine）的最早使用者。
PS2: 文中所提到的马尔鲁维姆语应为富奇诺语。
PS3: 富奇诺湖(lake Fucino): 意大利中部阿布鲁佐西部的一个大型内流湖，因其没有自然出水口，因此当地人使用人工修建的排水设施控制水位，防止其反复淹没周围耕地。1878年，富奇诺湖被人工排干。
PS4: 克劳迪乌斯皇帝(Emperor Claudius)：古罗马皇帝
PS5: 贺拉斯(Horace)：古罗马诗人
PS6: 文中提到的当地人制作的“有着两个头颅与四条手臂的人偶”参见CulSim中的工具牌“马尔鲁维姆人偶”。
PS7: 查理曼时期：指查理曼大帝统治法兰克王国的时期，即公元768——814年。
PS8:文中提到的“书”疑似《双生姝丽》，因其来自查理曼时期，由富奇诺语写成，且书页边缘锋利如刀刃。
原文
1815: Kissing the Twins
Addendum excised from Sir William Colt Hoare’s Hints to Travellers in Italy, 1815.
MARRUVIUM was the chief city of the Marruvii, a mountain people who rebelled many times against Rome. The city was established as a colony after their final pacification. Today it is a little provincial town, San Benedetto dei Marsi, which has not much to recommend it to the young tourist. The tiny church of St Agnes of the Serpent has a gloomy charm, and the town lies almost at the shore of Lake Fucino, which offers picturesque aspects, despite its evil reputation. The Emperor Claudius identified the lake as a source of the mal aria, to which the reader will recall I lost a valued friend in the Pomptine Marshes. Horace identified it, rather, as a source of witches. I wonder now whether Horace’s assessment might not be the correct one, but I should not run ahead.
Lake Fucino has been reduced many times, though it creeps back when the drainage fails, so that even now the locals refer to its margins as ‘the dry country’. A bronze bearing an antique inscription in the tongue of the Marruvii was found in the dry places, and is now kept in the church. The priest is severe on its dangers – it has been touched by the lake-witches – but nevertheless will show it to the curious, for a small donation.
On the matter of the witches. They are seen in dreams, particularly when one dreams before a cracked and uncovered mirror. On nights of the greater moon they arise from the lake and generate unwanted multiple births, inspire follies of passion, and blend flesh to flesh. The locals turn for protection to St Agnes, but I have seen that they also make poppets – of two heads and four arms – to placate the lake-witches.
As to why I came to San Benedetto dei Marsi: I had heard in Rome that the inscription of the bronze employs a script not seen elsewhere, and I wished to study and record that script. My informant was correct that the script was unusual, and I have retained the notes for study; but I can attest that the script survives in a book, which a woman of the area was kind enough to show me. The book, she said, was not for sale, and I have given my word that I will not speak further of the woman or of her companion. I was permitted to examine the book. It is not from the time of the Marruvii – it is much later – perhaps of the vintage of Charlemagne. The woman and her companion told me wild tales of its origin, and of the witches of the lake, and I had ceased to pay close attention when they warned me of the dangers of the book. This tale at least was true: the page-edges are sharp as a barber’s razor, and I cut my hand badly and had to bind it with my handkerchief.
I thought to find a doctor lest the wound go bad, but the doctor was lost to drink, and my host directed me to the sanctuary of St Agnes. I would not choose a priest as a physician, but the sanctuary has been a place of healing since, I am assured, the time of the Romans, and the cut was very deep.
Still when I came there the priest would not bind my injury, averring that wounds are holy to Agnes. He promised to draw the poison from my flesh and I sat upon the altar steps and he set his mouth to the wound and my senses failed me. When I awoke the priest was in a shouting rage, and would not minister to me further. In my dizziness and fear my Italian had all but abandoned me, but I understood this: ‘the Twins! You have kissed the Twins!’
My wound did not turn, and I will have a story to tell with the scar. Perhaps after all there was a virtue in the mouth of the priest. When the moon is full I still dream of San Benedetto dei Marsi, and of the drawings I saw in the knived pages of the book.
