by Nancy Krulik
Tony puts his hands over his ears. “Stop!” he cries. “I don’t want to hear anything else about Dracula or the Vlad guy.”
“Well, actually,” Ms. Frogbottom says, “Vlad the Impaler was born right around here, in 1431.”
Tony’s eyes grow huge. “He-e-re?” he says with a gulp.
“In that house.” Ms. Frogbottom points to a very normal-looking pale yellowish-tan concrete home. There are small windows in different places on the front of the house, with a pretty flower box beneath each window.
It’s hard to believe that a guy nicknamed Vlad the Impaler could have been born in such a peaceful-looking house. “Impaling” means sticking a spear or a stake through someone’s body. It makes the victim die really slowly and with a lot of pain. That’s not peaceful.
“Can we go inside?” Aiden asks.
“Well, they have turned the house into a restaurant and museum,” Ms. Frogbottom begins. “But it’s closed at night. So—”
“URA! URA!”
Ms. Frogbottom is drowned out by screams coming from just around the bend. It sounds like there’s a whole crowd of people storming through the streets.
The shouts are in a different language, so I don’t know what the people are saying. All I can tell is that there are a lot of them! And they’re coming our way.
“Wow!” Olivia exclaims as a huge crowd turns the corner and stomps toward us.
“What’s that guy in the front of the line carrying?” Tony cries. “It looks like a giant spear. They’re going to stab us all!”
“You mean impale us all!” I correct him. But no one hears me over the cries of the oncoming mob.
“Ura! Ura!”
3
THE CROWD IS GETTING CLOSER and closer.
The shouts are getting louder and louder.
And the spear…
Wait a minute. I don’t think that’s a spear after all. For one thing, the long pole doesn’t have a point on it. You’d need a point if you were going to impale someone. And for another thing, it’s covered in brightly colored handkerchiefs and little bells. Most warriors wouldn’t take time to decorate their spears.
“Oh my! It’s an evening wedding parade!” Ms. Frogbottom cheers. “You see how the best man is holding the wedding pole? He did a wonderful job decorating it. It’s such a happy symbol of a strong marriage.”
I knew that stick wasn’t a spear.
People are coming out of their houses to watch the parade. There’s a lot of cheering in the streets now.
“URA! URA!”
I guess those weren’t battle cries. They were cheers for the bride and groom.
“Where’s the bride?” Emma asks.
“She’s the one with the crown that’s covered in flowers, jewels, and ribbons,” Ms. Frogbottom replies. “The groom is the man in the felt hat that’s decorated with feathers and flowers. You see him there? He’s wearing the white leather vest.”
“Are their clothes traditional Romanian folk costumes?” I ask Ms. Frogbottom, pointing to the brightly embroidered skirts and puffy white blouses worn by the women in the parade.
“Yes,” Ms. Frogbottom tells me.
“So Romanian brides don’t get to wear long white gowns?” Emma asks. She sounds disappointed.
“Some do,” Ms. Frogbottom assures her. “But others dress in the same costumes their ancestors wore hundreds of years ago.”
Our teacher reaches into her backpack and pulls out a huge handful of uncooked rice, which she tosses at the bride and groom. “Wishing you good fortune!” she shouts as she throws.
We watch as the parade passes by, with the people singing and laughing. Now that they’re closer, I can tell they’re happy. I can’t believe we were ever afraid of them.
As the wedding party travels on, the other villagers return to their homes. A cloud passes across the full moon, and everything gets a bit darker and gloomier.
AROOOOOOOO! As if things weren’t eerie enough, now an animal is howling at the moon.
And then an awful smell fills the air.
“What’s that?” Aiden asks. He holds his nose.
“It stinks,” Olivia adds. “Worse than that garlic around Tony’s neck.”
“I told you we should get out of here,” Tony says. He turns slightly and looks over his shoulder. “Oh no. We can’t get out of here!”
“Why not?” Olivia asks him.
“There’s a wall surrounding us.” Tony points toward the circle of ancient stone walls and towers surrounding the city. “I bet it was built to hold people prisoner!”
“I don’t think those walls were built to hold people in,” I tell Tony. “More likely they were built to keep enemies out. I’m sure there are gates. We can just walk through one of them.”
FROGBOTTOM FACTS
The protective citadel walls around Sighişoara were built way back in the 1100s.
The Clock Tower, which is also called the gate tower, marked the main entrance to the city.
At almost 210 feet, the Clock Tower is tall enough to be seen from anywhere in Sighişoara.
“What if the gates are locked?” Tony asks.
“It won’t matter. We’ve got an easier way out.” Oliver points to Ms. Frogbottom, who is already pulling the Magic Map from her backpack.
“Here we go again,” Emma says.
“I wonder where to,” Olivia says.
We’re about to find out. Ms. Frogbottom has placed her finger on the map.
Suddenly a white light flashes all around us. My body feels weightless, and I think my feet have just left the ground.
It’s like I’m flying in space. And then…
4
“THIS STREET LOOKS KIND OF like the last one, but it’s not exactly the same,” Olivia says as we study our new surroundings.
“That’s because we’re in a different part of Transylvania,” I tell her. “This area is called Bran.”
“How do you know?” Oliver asks.
“Because that’s Bran Castle,” I say, pointing over his shoulder at a fortress that’s terra-cotta-orange and white, with pointed towers and tiny windows. It sits high atop a mountain overlooking the village. The castle is shrouded by trees, and the way the branches are blowing under the moonlight makes the castle seem extra creepy.
“Dracula’s Castle!” Emma exclaims. “It looks just like it does in the movies.”
“Count Dracula was fake,” I insist.
“Well, the castle is real,” Emma tells me.
Just then a bat flies out from one of the castle windows. It flaps its wings beneath the moon.
Grumble.
“What was that?” Tony jumps three feet into the air.
Aiden laughs. “My stomach. I’m hungry.”
“You ate five hot dogs at science camp,” Oliver says.
FROGBOTTOM FACTS
Bran Castle was named for its location, the village of Bran, which is in the Transylvania area of Romania.
The construction of Bran Castle began in 1377. It was finished eleven years later, in 1388.
Bran Castle was originally used as a fortress, and soldiers lived there. The castle later became home to Queen Marie of Romania and the royal family.
“So what?” Aiden asks. “Ms. Frogbottom, do you think there’s a place around here where we can get something to eat?”
“In most European cities there’s a café in the town square,” our teacher tells him. “I just have to figure out where the square is.”
“I think it must be that way,” I say, pointing left.
“Why would you say that?” Ms. Frogbottom wonders.
“That’s where those people are coming from.” I point to a group of adults who are laughing as they walk toward us. “The bald man has a fresh grease stain on his shirt. And the woman in the long skirt is carrying what looks like a box of leftover food. They must be coming from a restaurant.”
“Excellent deductive reasoning, Sofia!” Ms. Frogbottom cheers.
Aid
en gives me a grateful look. I bet now he’s happy that I’m such a brain.
* * *
A few minutes later we’re seated at an outdoor café. All around us people are eating hungrily. I don’t blame them. The food smells delicious.
A waiter walks over to our table. “What can I get you?” he asks.
“We’d like to try traditional Romanian food,” Ms. Frogbottom tells him. “But not too much. We’re really only here for a bite.”
Tony gulps. “Did she say a bite?”
“This café is so pretty,” Emma says. “It looks just like the outdoor restaurants you see in old movies.”
“Old vampire movies?” Olivia wonders.
Emma nods. “There was this movie I saw where the vampire turned into a bat and hung upside down in a tree, watching his next victim eat dinner.”
“Trees like those?” Aiden asks, pointing to three large trees not far from our table.
“Exactly,” Emma says. “I wonder if there are vampire bats in those branches.”
I doubt it. Because, like I told everyone before, vampire bats feed on cows’ blood. There are no cows around here.
But there is something very strange going on near those trees. A skinny man with thick, dark eyebrows is watering the flowers at the base of the tree trunks.
“That’s odd,” I say.
“What is?” Emma asks me.
“That man is gardening,” I tell her.
“So what?” Emma replies.
“The sun’s gone down,” I explain. “Have you ever heard of anyone gardening by moonlight?”
Emma shrugs and goes back to talking about vampire movies. But I’m not listening to her. I’m too busy looking at the gardener.
The fact that he’s working in the dark isn’t the strangest thing about this man. When he thinks no one is looking, he captures a mosquito in his hands. And he eats it. Just like a bat.
I look to see if any of my classmates saw that too.
Apparently not. They were all too busy listening to Emma.
RUFF, RUFF, ROOOOO!
“Did you hear that?” Aiden asks. “They sure have loud dogs in Romania.”
“It doesn’t sound like any dog I’ve ever heard,” I tell him. “It could be a wolf.”
“Maybe it’s a werewolf,” Tony suggests.
“It’s not a werewolf,” the mosquito-eating gardener says, walking over to our table.
“That’s good.” Tony sounds relieved.
“More likely it’s a capcaun,” the gardener continues matter-of-factly. “They’re related to dogs.”
“Like foxes?” Aiden wonders.
“Not exactly,” the man continues. “Capcauns are ogres with dog faces. They have four eyes. And…” A creepy smile comes over his face. “Their favorite food is human meat. Especially meat from young humans. Capcauns trick children into entering the forest. Then they eat them. Luckily, capcauns have a terrible odor. It acts as a warning. If you smell something in the forest that turns your stomach, stay away.”
The gardener nods at Ms. Frogbottom. “I am sorry to have interrupted,” he apologizes.
“Not at all,” our teacher replies. “I’m sure my class found that fascinating, Mr….”
“Sange,” the gardener says.
“I’m Ms. Frogbottom.”
“We smelled something really awful after that wedding parade,” Olivia recalls.
“And we heard howling,” Emma adds. “It could have been a capcaun.”
“I doubt it,” I tell her. “A four-eyed dog-ogre isn’t exactly something you’d see in the natural world.”
“But it is something you’d see in the supernatural world,” Emma argues.
“I wouldn’t worry about running into some character from a folktale,” I say.
“Yeah,” Aiden agrees. “Especially since right now all I smell is food. Here comes our waiter with the grub.”
“Grubs are delicious,” Mr. Sange remarks.
Aiden laughs. I’m not so sure Mr. Sange is kidding.
“Lamb drob is our specialty.” The waiter places a slice of meat loaf onto each of our plates.
“The drob here is wonderful,” Mr. Sange tells us. “There’s a surprise in every piece.”
“I don’t need any more surprises,” Tony complains.
“Relax,” Oliver says. “I think the surprise is the hard-boiled egg in the middle of the meat.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Sange turns to Ms. Frogbottom. “Perhaps after your meal I can arrange a private tour of Bran Castle for you. I’m the groundskeeper there, and I have my own key. You can’t come to Transylvania without visiting Bran Castle.”
FROGBOTTOM FACT
Traditional Romanian recipes are based on foods eaten by the people who invaded the country during the Middle Ages. Romanian food is often influenced by Turkish, Hungarian, German, and Austrian recipes.
“Sure we can,” Tony mutters.
If Ms. Frogbottom heard Tony, she’s ignoring him, because she exclaims, “That would be wonderful!”
“Excellent,” Mr. Sange says. “But first you eat.” He pulls up a chair and sits beside Ms. Frogbottom. In the moonlight I can see that he has unusual eyes: one blue and one green.
“Do you have ketchup?” Oliver asks the waiter.
“I’m sorry,” the waiter replies. “We don’t serve ketchup.”
“I’ve got some.” Ms. Frogbottom reaches into her backpack and pulls out ketchup. I don’t mean a few of those little packets that you might get at a fast-food restaurant. For some reason Ms. Frogbottom has been lugging around a giant bottle of ketchup in her backpack. “Here you go.”
“You pour ketchup onto everything,” Olivia says to her brother. “You’d put it on your cereal if Mom would let you.”
“I like ketchup,” Oliver says with a shrug. “It makes my food taste better.”
“This tastes pretty good on its own,” Tony says. “But not as good as my nonna’s meat loaf. She puts a lot of garlic in hers.”
“The chef at this café does not cook with garlic,” Mr. Sange admits. “But there are plenty of delicious spices in the food, like basil, rosemary, and tarragon.”
“You don’t need any more garlic,” Emma tells Tony. “Your neck already smells. You want your breath to stink too?”
“Emma!” Ms. Frogbottom scolds.
“I’m sorry,” Emma apologizes to Tony. “But your necklace really smells awful.”
“It’s working, though,” Tony says. “Still no mosquito bites.”
“What’s wrong with a little bite of mosquito?” Mr. Sange asks.
We all stare at him, but no one says a word.
How do you answer a question like that?
5
“I WONDER HOW THEY WERE able to build a castle on the top of this mountain more than six hundred years ago,” Olivia says as we hike toward Bran Castle. “They didn’t have trucks back then.”
“The mountain is really steep,” Emma agrees. “Good thing I’m wearing my new hiking boots. They’re very comfortable and…”
OWOOOOOO!
Whatever Emma is saying is drowned out by a howling coming from the surrounding forest.
“Do you think that’s a capcaun?” Tony asks nervously.
“No,” I reply.
“That castle looks like something straight out of a scary movie,” Aiden remarks.
He’s not wrong. With its pointy towers shooting up toward the cloud-covered full moon, Bran Castle really does look frightening. I can see why Bram Stoker chose to use it as the model for Dracula’s castle in his book.
Even the walk up to the castle is nerve-wracking. It’s dark out, and there isn’t another soul on the road—probably because there’s nothing at the top but the castle, and it’s closed to tourists tonight. There are thick forests on either side of us. Every now and then you can hear an animal stepping on a dried twig, or a bat squeaking in the night, or—
OWOOOOOO!
“There it goes again,” Tony says.
“Whatever’s out there is giving us a warning.”
“What kind of warning?” Oliver wonders.
“To stay out of the castle,” Tony replies.
“If that’s true, we’d probably be better off inside Bran Castle,” Oliver insists.
Tony gives Oliver a funny look. “How do you figure that?”
“Remember what Mr. Sange said about capcauns tricking kids?” Oliver reminds him. “What if it is a capcaun that’s howling? What if it’s trying to fool us into staying out here?”
“Oliver has a point,” I tell Tony. “Places like Bran Castle were built to protect people from their enemies. If capcauns actually existed, they would definitely be our enemy. So logically we’d be safer inside the castle than out. But honestly, Tony, there’s nothing to be scared of. There are no such things as capcauns—or vampires.” I add that last part for Emma.
“Come along,” Ms. Frogbottom urges. “We just have to climb up these stairs, and then we’ll be at the doors of Bran Castle.”
Just have to climb up these stairs? Ms. Frogbottom makes that seem like no big deal. But there are hundreds of steps. They’re hard and rocky, which makes the climbing even more difficult.
Still, I’m not stopping. I want to know what’s inside Bran Castle.
FROGBOTTOM FACT
You have to climb almost fifteen hundred steps to reach the base of Bran Castle.
6
“WE DID IT! WE REACHED the castle!” Aiden pumps his fist in the air and cheers when we arrive at the arched doorway of Bran Castle.
“Welcome,” Mr. Sange says as he opens the door.
We follow him into a small entryway. The room is dark, with wooden walls that are decorated with old portraits of men in rich velvet capes, and a huge mirror with a fancy gold frame. The only light is coming from a few candles and the full moon outside.
“This is exactly the way I imagined a vampire’s castle,” Emma says as she fixes her hair in the old dusty mirror.
“Me too,” Tony murmurs. “Spooky.”