Blood and Gold (Vampire Chronicles)

NATIONAL BESTSELLER • The Vampire Chronicles continue as the great vampire Marius returns. The golden-haired Marius, true Child of the Millennia, once mentor to The Vampire Lestat, always and forever the conscientious foe of the Evil Doer, reveals in his own intense yet inti- mate voice the secrets of his two-thousand-year existence. Once a proud Senator in Imperial Rome, kidnapped and made a “blood god” by the Druids, Marius becomes the embittered protector of Akasha and Enkil, Queen and King of the vampires, in whom the core of the supernatural race resides. We follow him through his heartbreaking abandonment of the vampire Pandora. Through him we see the fall of pagan Rome to the Emperor Constantine and the horrific sack of the Eternal City itself at the hands of the Visigoths. Bravely, Marius seeks a new civilization in the midst of glittering Constantinople, only to meet with the blood drinker Eudoxia. We see him ultimately returning to his beloved Italy, where after the horrors of the Black Death, he is restored by the beauty of the Renaissance. We see him become a painter living dangerously yet happily among mortals, giving his heart to the great Botticelli, to the bewitching courtesan Bianca, and to the mysterious young apprentice Armand. Moving from Rome to Florence, Venice, and Dresden, and to the English castle of the secret scholarly order of the Talamasca, the novel reaches its dramatic finale in our own time, deep in the jungle where Marius, having told his life story, seeks some measure of justice from the oldest vampires in the world.

Amazon.com Review

Time heals all wounds, unless, of course, you're a vampire. Cuts may heal, burns vanish, limbs reattach, but for the "blood god," the wounds of the heart sometimes stay open and raw for centuries. So it is for Marius, Anne Rice's oft-mentioned and beloved scholar. We've heard parts of his tale in past volumes of the Vampire Chronicles, but never so completely and never from his own lips. In Blood and Gold, Rice mostly (but not entirely) avoids the danger of treading worn ground as she fills out the life and character of Marius the Lonely, the Disenchanted, the Heartsick--a 2,000-year-old vampire "with all the conviction of a mortal man." Plucked from his beloved Rome in the prime of his life and forced into solitude as keeper of the vampire queen and king, Marius has never forgiven the injustice of his mortal death. Thousands of years later, he still seethes over his losses. Immortality for Marius is both a blessing and a curse--he bears "witness to all splendid and beautiful things human," yet is unable to engage in relationships for fear of revealing his burden. New readers to the Chronicles may wish for a more fleshed-out, less introspective hero, but Rice's legions of devoted fans will recognize Blood and Gold for what it is: a love song to Marius the Wanderer, whose story reveals the complexities and limitations of eternal existence. --Daphne Durham

From School Library Journal

What we've all been waiting for: the 2000-year history of Marius, mentor to the Vampire Lestat. At 750,000 copies, the first printing measures up to Marius's long reign. Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal

After a long, deep sleep, the vampire Thorne looks to centuries-old Marius for guidance as he comes back into the world. Thorne is curious about Marius's life and his relationship to others in the community of Blood Drinkers, and Marius consents to tell all. It is this story that makes up the bulk of Rice's newest entry to the "Vampire Chronicles," the first of which was Interview with the Vampire. This complex tale presents the history of vampires through the eyes of Marius, who offers his perspective on several characters, most of whom have appeared in earlier volumes. Marius, who is something of an erudite philosopher, brings his own spin to the stories of the various undead he has met in his long existence. Though it is not as engrossing as the earlier books perhaps because so much of the story has already been told devoted followers of the series will find new information about familiar characters, and new readers will find this a good introduction to Rice's world of the vampire. Most public libraries will want to purchase.- Patricia Altner, Information Seekers, Columbia, MD Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist

Rice's new Vampire Chronicle tells the story of Marius, a mentor to Lestat, the creator of Armand, and the lover of Pandora. He has appeared in almost all the other chronicles, which presents Rice the task of maintaining continuity without treading too much old ground. The first 100 pages here are somewhat flat, especially for series neophytes, who may be confused by the detailed backstory. Once on new ground, the story picks up. For a while, Marius travels with the vampires Avicus and Mael, the latter of whom is responsible for Marius being turned into a vampire. Marius' own strict ethics allow him to feed only on those who have committed crimes. He also carries the serious burden of guarding the very first vampires, the Parents, and that somehow always separates him from any happiness and deep companionship he finds. The middle of the yarn is much more compelling than the beginning and the end, too, which contains more old news. Since this probably isn't the last Vampire Chronicle, let's hope Rice finds some new blood before the next installment. Kristine HuntleyCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

From the Inside Flap

Chronicles continue with Anne Rice s spellbinding new novel, in which the great vampire Marius returns. The golden-haired Marius, true Child of the Millennia, once mentor to The Vampire Lestat, always and forever the conscientious foe of the Evil Doer, reveals in his own intense yet inti-mate voice the secrets of his two-thousand-year existence.Once a proud Senator in Imperial Rome, kidnapped and made a blood god by the Druids, Marius becomes the embittered protector of Akasha and Enkil, Queen and King of the vampires, in whom the core of the supernatural race resides.We follow him through his heartbreaking abandonment of the vampire Pandora. Through him we see the fall of pagan Rome to the Emperor Constantine and the horrific sack of the Eternal City itself at the hands of the Visigoths. Bravely, Marius seeks a new civilization in the midst of glittering Constantinople, only to meet with the blood drinker Eudoxia. We s

From the Back Cover

Chronicles continue with Anne Rice’s spellbinding new novel, in which the great vampire Marius returns. The golden-haired Marius, true Child of the Millennia, once mentor to The Vampire Lestat, always and forever the conscientious foe of the Evil Doer, reveals in his own intense yet inti-mate voice the secrets of his two-thousand-year existence.Once a proud Senator in Imperial Rome, kidnapped and made a “blood god” by the Druids, Marius becomes the embittered protector of Akasha and Enkil, Queen and King of the vampires, in whom the core of the supernatural race resides.We follow him through his heartbreaking abandonment of the vampire Pandora. Through him we see the fall of pagan Rome to the Emperor Constantine and the horrific sack of the Eternal City itself at the hands of the Visigoths. Bravely, Marius seeks a new civilization in the midst of glittering Constantinople, only to meet with the blood drinker Eudoxia. We s

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1His name was Thorne. In the ancient language of the runes, it had beenlonger–Thornevald. But when he became a blood drinker, his name had beenchanged to Thorne. And Thorne he remained now, centuries later, as he layin his cave in the ice, dreaming.When he had first come to the frozen land, he had hoped he would sleepeternally. But now and then the thirst for blood awakened him, and usingthe Cloud Gift, he rose into the air, and went in search of the SnowHunters.He fed off them, careful never to take too much blood from any one so thatnone died on account of him. And when he needed furs and boots he tookthem as well, and returned to his hiding place.These Snow Hunters were not his people. They were dark of skin and hadslanted eyes, and they spoke a different tongue, but he had known them inthe olden times when he had traveled with his uncle into the land to theEast for trading. He had not liked trading. He had preferred war. But he’dlearnt many things on those adventures.In his sleep in the North, he dreamed. He could not help it. The Mind Giftlet him hear the voices of other blood drinkers.Unwillingly he saw through their eyes, and beheld the world as they beheld it. Sometimes he didn’t mind. He liked it. Modern thingsamused him. He listened to far-away electric songs. With the Mind Gift heunderstood such things as steam engines and railroads; he even understoodcomputers and automobiles. He felt he knew the cities he had left behindthough it had been centuries since he’d forsaken them.An awareness had come over him that he wasn’t going to die. Loneliness initself could not destroy him. Neglect was insufficient. And so he slept.Then a strange thing happened. A catastrophe befell the world of the blooddrinkers.A young singer of sagas had come. His name was Lestat, and in his electricsongs, Lestat broadcast old secrets, secrets which Thorne had never known.Then a Queen had risen, an evil and ambitious being. She had claimed tohave within her the Sacred Core of all blood drinkers, so that, should shedie, all the race would perish with her.Thorne had been amazed.He had never heard these myths of his own kind. He did not know that hebelieved this thing.But as he slept, as he dreamt, as he watched, this Queen began, with theFire Gift, to destroy blood drinkers everywhere throughout the world.Thorne heard their cries as they tried to escape; he saw their deaths inso far as others saw such things.As she roamed the earth, this Queen came close to Thorne but she passedover him. He was secretive and quiet in his cave. Perhaps she didn’t sense his presence. But he had sensed hers and never had heencountered such age or strength except from the blood drinker who hadgiven him the Blood.And he found himself thinking of that one, the Maker, the red-haired witchwith the bleeding eyes.The catastrophe among his kind grew worse. More were slain; and out ofhiding there came blood drinkers as old as the Queen herself, and Thornesaw these beings.At last there came the red-haired one who had made him. He saw her asothers saw her. And at first he could not believe that she still lived; ithad been so long since he’d left her in the Far South that he hadn’t daredto hope she was still alive. The eyes and ears of other blood drinkersgave him the infallible proof. And when he looked on her in his dreams, hewas overwhelmed with a tender feeling and a rage.She thrived, this creature who had given him the Blood, and she despisedthe Evil Queen and she wanted to stop her. Theirs was a hatred for eachother which went back thousands of years.At last there was a coming together of these beings–old ones from theFirst Brood of blood drinkers, and others whom the blood drinker Lestatloved and whom the Evil Queen did not choose to destroy.Dimly, as he lay still in the ice, Thorne heard their strange talk, asround a table they sat, like so many powerful Knights, except that in thiscouncil, the women were equal to the men.With the Queen they sought to reason, struggling to persuade her to endher reign of violence, to forsake her evil designs.He listened, but he could not really understand all that was said amongthese blood drinkers. He knew only that the Queen must be stopped.The Queen loved the blood drinker Lestat. But even he could not turn herfrom disasters, so reckless was her vision, so depraved her mind.Did the Queen truly have the Sacred Core of all blood drinkers withinherself? If so, how could she be destroyed?Thorne wished the Mind Gift were stronger in him, or that he had used itmore often. During his long centuries of sleep, his strength had grown,but now he felt his distance and that he was weak.But as he watched, his eyes open, as though that might help him to see,there came into his vision another red-haired one, the twin sister of thewoman who had loved him so long ago. It astonished him, as only a twin cando.And Thorne came to understand that the Maker he had loved so much had lostthis twin thousands of years ago.The Evil Queen was the mistress of this disaster. She despised thered-haired twins. She had divided them. And the lost twin came now tofulfill an ancient curse she had laid on the Evil Queen.As she drew closer and closer to the Queen, the lost twin thought only ofdestruction. She did not sit at the council table. She did not know reasonor restraint.“We shall all die,” Thorne whispered in his sleep, drowsy in the snow andice, the eternal arctic night coldly enclosing him. He did not move tojoin his immortal companions. But he watched. He listened. He would do sountil the last moment. He could do no less.Finally, the lost twin reached her destination. She rose against theQueen. The other blood drinkers around her looked on in horror. As the twofemale beings struggled, as they fought as two warriors upon abattlefield, a strange vision suddenly filled Thorne’s mind utterly, asthough he lay in the snow and he were looking at the heavens.What he saw was a great intricate web stretching out in all directions,and caught within it many pulsing points of light. At the very center ofthis web was a single vibrant flame. He knew the flame was the Queen; andhe knew that the other points of light were all the other blood drinkers.He himself was one of those tiny points of light. The tale of the SacredCore was true. He could see it with his own eyes. And now came the momentfor all to surrender to darkness and silence. Now came the end.The far-flung complex web grew glistening and bright; the core appeared toexplode; and then all went dim for a long moment, during which he felt asweet vibration in his limbs as he often felt in simple sleep, and hethought to himself, Ah, so, now we are dying. And there is no pain.Yet it was like Ragnarok for his old gods, when the great god, Heimdall,the World Brightener, would blow his horn summoning the gods of Aiser totheir final battle.“And we end with a war as well,” Thorne whispered in his cave. But histhoughts did not end.It seemed the best thing that he live no more, until he thought of her,his red-haired one, his Maker. He had wanted so badly to see her again.Why had she never told him of her lost twin? Why had she never entrustedto him the myths of which the blood drinker Lestat sang? Surely she hadknown the secret of the Evil Queen with her Sacred Core.He shifted; he stirred in his sleep. The great sprawling web had fadedfrom his vision. But with uncommon clarity he could see the red-hairedtwins, spectacular women.They stood side by side, these comely creatures, the one in rags, theother in splendor. And through the eyes of other blood drinkers he came toknow that the stranger twin had slain the Queen, and had taken the SacredCore within herself.“Behold, the Queen of the Damned,” said his Maker twin as she presented tothe others her long-lost sister. Thorne understood her. Thorne saw thesuffering in her face. But the face of the stranger twin, the Queen of theDamned, was blank.In the nights that followed the survivors of the catastrophe remainedtogether. They told their tales to one another. And their stories filledthe air like so many songs from the bards of old, sung in the mead hall.And Lestat, leaving his electric instruments for music, became once morethe chronicler, making a story of the battle that he would passeffortlessly into the mortal world.Soon the red-haired sisters had moved away, seeking a hiding place whereThorne’s distant eye could not find them.Be still, he had told himself. Forget the things that you have seen. Thereis no reason for you to rise from the ice, any more than there ever was.Sleep is your friend. Dreams are your unwelcome guests.Lie quiet and you will lapse back into peace again. Be like the godHeimdall before the battle call, so still that you can hear the wool growon the backs of sheep, and the grass grow far away in the lands where thesnow melts.But more visions came to him.The blood drinker Lestat brought about some new and confusing tumult inthe mortal world. It was a marvelous secret from the Chris-tian past that he bore, which he had entrusted to a mortal girl.There would never be any peace for this one called Lestat. He was like oneof Thorne’s people, like one of the warriors of Thorne’s time.Thorne watched as once again, his red-haired one appeared, his lovelyMaker, her eyes red with mortal blood as always, and finely glad and fullof authority and power, and this time come to bind the unhappy blooddrinker Lestat in chains.Chains that could bind such a powerful one?Thorne pondered it. What chains could accomplish this, he wondered. Itseemed that he had to know the answer to this question. And he saw hisred-haired one sitting patiently by while the blood drinker Lestat, boundand helpless, fought and raved but could not get free.What were they made of, these seemingly soft shaped links that held such abeing? The question left Thorne no peace. And why did his red-haired Makerlove Lestat and allow him to live? Why was she so quiet as the young oneraved? What was it like to be bound in her chains, and close to her?Memories came back to Thorne; troubling visions of his Maker when he, amortal warrior, had first come upon her in a cave in the North land thathad been his home. It had been night and he had seen her with her distaffand her spindle and her bleeding eyes.From her long red locks she had taken one hair after another and spun itinto thread, working with silent speed as he approached her.It had been bitter winter, and the fire behind her seemed magical in itsbrightness as he had stood in the snow watching her as she spun the threadas he had seen a hundred mortal women do.“A witch,” he had said aloud.From his mind he banished this memory.He saw her now as she guarded Lestat who had become strong like her. He saw the strange chains that bound Lestat who no longerstruggled.At last Lestat had been released.Gathering up the magical chains, his red-haired Maker had abandoned himand his companions.The others were visible but she had slipped out of their vision, andslipping from their vision, she slipped from the visions of Thorne.Once again, he vowed to continue his slumber. He opened his mind to sleep.But the nights passed one by one in his icy cave. The noise of the worldwas deafening and formless.And as time passed he could not forget the sight of his long-lost one; hecould not forget that she was as vital and beautiful as she had ever been,and old thoughts came back to him with bitter sharpness.Why had they quarreled? Had she really ever turned her back on him? Whyhad he hated so much her other companions? Why had he begrudged her thewanderer blood drinkers who, discovering her and her company, adored heras all talked together of their journeys in the Blood.And the myths–of the Queen and the Sacred Core–would they have mattered tohim? He didn’t know. He had had no hunger for myths. It confused him. Andhe could not banish from his mind the picture of Lestat bound in thosemysterious chains.Memory wouldn’t leave him alone.It was the middle of winter when the sun doesn’t shine at all over theice, when he realized that sleep had left him. And he would have nofurther peace.And so he rose from the cave, and began his long walk South through thesnow, taking his time as he listened to the electric voices of the worldbelow, not certain of where he would enter it again.The wind blew his long thick red hair; he pulled up his fur-lined collarover his mouth, and he wiped the ice from his eyebrows. His boots weresoon wet, and so he stretched out his arms, summoning the Cloud Giftwithout words, and began his ascent so that he might travel low over theland, listening for others of his kind, hoping to find an old one likehimself, someone who might welcome him.Weary of the Mind Gift and its random messages, he wanted to hear spokenwords.

About the Author

ANNE RICE is the author of thirty-seven books. She died in 2021.

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