We descend, deeper and deeper into the Castle. Bottle-glass window eyes flood green light into the cellars below. It is cool here in the womb.We climb up once more. A room of square-paned pastels cut up the landscape of Budapest, a glimpse of the azure-topped tower in the distance. And across the cold stone floor toward the Chapel. A simple crucifix streamed onto the blood-red carpet beneath.
There is a secret place here, and we burst out into sunshine and a silent courtyard leading off to the left. A glorious, deep fig-tree green, its leaves like hands reaching out to catch us. We flee toward the beckoning spiral staircase and climb, climb, climb from their grasp, emerging into the circle-topped eaves of the watch-tower and a view to the Danube. The ships glide serene, and we hold each other close. Lovers, still.
Striding the ramparts, and a lizard crosses our path, in search of sun-warmed walls. And then, all too soon, the walk is over.
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