Scene 2
Farinata immediately wishes to establish to what
party Dante's ancestors belonged. He brusquely asked Dante. Dante told him.
“I met you before at Florence. We were on
opposing sides but you protected the City of Florence as your ancestors did
before. I am the son of Alighieri di Bellincione X.” Dante told Farinata. “I am honored to
meet you.”
“A line of my bitter enemy, they were to me. To my fathers, and my party, so that
twice the hatred I have of your family. Many a time, you were scattered by us.”
“If they were scattered, still from every
part, they formed again and returned both times,” Dante answered. “But yours have not yet
wholly learned that art.”
Farinata glared at Dante on those
words.
“And if,” Dante going on from his last words, he said, “Men of my line
have yet to learn to that art, that burns me deeper than this flaming bed but
the face of her who reigns in Hell shall not be fifty times rekindled in its
course before you learn what griefs attend that art.”
“And as you hope to find the world again,” Dante sneered at Farinata. “Tell
me: why is that populace so savage. In the edicts, they pronounce against my family
and friends? The havoc and the carnage that rivals even this realm with its
flow of blood had caused many vengeful cries from both sides.”
“I was not alone in that affair,” Farinata replied “If I was certain
then, I would have not joined the rest without good reason but the rage in me
was long embedded through the ages by calls of the ancestors. As had my
forefathers, I too have saved Florence in my own time.”
“Then clear your conscience and mine so that we may put to rest,” Dante
begged of Farinata. “This dark place had left my mind perplexed. Do guide me. I
am told that the lost souls can tell the future.”
“You are mistaken. They can see the past. Or the present at times. It’s
the gift of the soul.” Farinata replied. “It may be that the soul had been to
many places that you may not have, but your soul did. Even your sleep, where do
you think your soul go? It was to rest for it had its mind. It wanders in the
realm and it pursued knowledge.”
“Do you sometimes have the déjà vu feel? Was I here before? Look into
your soul, Dante.” Farinata looked at the poet. “You seem to see in advance all
time’s intent, ever questioning if I have heard and understood correctly but you
seem to lack all knowledge of the present.”
“Do you still believe that God still grants us that much light as in
here? Do you see the night, as we once did? Yet we do not perceive it except
what others bring us. They are the ones that passed us by in full sight like
you. We know not of what but what you may tell us. Like Cavalante, he wakes
every time he hears a familiar voice. He asked the familiar question and till
now, he had naught for his question.”
“I am telling you for we will be dead forever.” Farinata laid out the
truth.
“The truth I will speak now. Guido Cavalante son is alive as I saw him
only before I descend here. He lives on. He leads the squad back in the forest.
Seek his father’s pardon for me, as I did not speak well when he asked. I was
confused. Who else lies here needs an answer, I will try to give to them
nowhere and in the truth as I have seen? Let their souls rest.”
“How many lies here? This parcel of land?” Dante asked of Farinata.
“More than a thousand cram this parcel of land. The tombs are inside and
may have fallen through the bottom. I can tell you second Frederick is here,
and one Cardinal. Of the rest let us be dumb.” Farinata then returned to the
mire and into it to his tomb.
Dante stood there disheartened and it was Virgil who spoke to him.
“What troubles you? Why do you look so vacant and downhearted?”
“Well, may you bear these words in mind?” Dante pointed to the top with
his right index finger. “Now pay attention to what I tell you here: When finally,
you can stand before the ray of that light whose bright eye sees all, you will
learn the turnings of your way.”
“Let us move on. I have seen enough yet much I had to do.” Dante sighed
then and from we moved on ignoring the parcels of land and their callings of
the others. We held no stops but straight walks making tracks of our own.
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