Oh, why not, I thought. We are creatures of magic, after all, just as they are. Anyway, I thought it was amusing that he was associating with old hags, so I thought little of it.
Then Agyar called me into his study. I asked him about the witch, only he became defensive and ordered me to just drink the blood he'd brought me. To my surprise it was animal blood; or at least, it wasn't human blood. But whatever it was, it was ghastly, and I almost choked on it. I knew it wasn't the blood, though; he had put something in there. Agyar feigned innocence and ordered me to finish the drink. Eventually I forced it down and made many faces afterward. Then Agyar started questioning me again—the usual questions, such as why I hated him so. I gave him my usual curt answers, but he kept on asking, and I started to feel very strange. The more he talked, the more questions he asked, the more I found myself unable to answer them. I started to become confused, confused about why he would ask me why I hated him; why did he think—?
"I… I don't hate you, Agyar," I remember saying to him under clouded thoughts, "Why do you think that… ?"
"You mean, you don't hate me, Mara?" he asked somewhat cautiously.
"No…" I said. "I… I love you."
I remember he smiled that cold smile of his, but it looked so wonderful to me then. I sighed and fell into his arms and kissed him again and again.
"A love potion," I said after we parted. "You've given me a love potion."
"I don't know what you mean, darling," he said. "You've simply come to your senses, that's all."
"If I didn't adore you so right now, Agyar," I whispered, "I'd despise you for this."
And so it went for some twenty years. That's how long the potion lasted. During those twenty years I was utterly in love and hate with him. Both, really. Let me explain something. Love potions work, but only on the surface. They only cover up what feelings are really there, only those feelings are crushed down so tight that the potion's effects reign supreme. Until they wear off, that is. I knew that deep down I still despised Agyar with every part of my soul, but the potion wasn't letting that come out. It tried, though. While I was giving him rubdowns, shining his boots, dressing him, bedding down with him, combing his hair, and so on, I would occasionally remind him that once the potion wore off, I would go back to despising him.
Lara couldn't quite understand me the whole time. I asked her to be patient with me while she could, for he had me under a spell which would wear off eventually. She had to be patient because Agyar took the opportunity to chastise me for not treating Lara the way I was supposed to, meaning as a servant. She was supposed to be tending to all my needs, not playing games and such. Under normal circumstances I would have lashed out at him for saying such things, but I sat and listened to him, all smiles and nodding my head vigorously. But each time I gave Lara an order I asked her forgiveness under my breath, and asked her again to please be patient.
Chapter 22
I ought to be fair and give an update on Clovaine's situation. It was becoming poorer and poorer each year, just like the rest of the Western Empire. And Agyar was not exactly known for keeping up friendly contact with his people or offering support or advice regarding their situation. The wheat crops were still decent enough—no one died for lack of bread—but Agyar was having a harder time getting taxes from his people. The little existing militia was practically disbanded, and our own wealth within the house was suffering. No more pretty new dresses for me, it seemed, which I didn't really care about, anyway. I worried much more about the suffering of Clovaine's people than about my own lack of wealth.
Naturally it bothered Agyar. He loved wealth and power, but he was quickly losing that means to happiness. He began talking often of moving to the East and seeking wealth there. I thought it was a most wonderful idea (still under the potion's influence at this point), and did my best to help him prepare for our departure. But it ended up being a distant fantasy for him in the end, as he could never really seem to mobilize himself into action.
So the East became his ultimate goal for a while—his final dream, his lost cause. This went on for some seventy more years—long after the love potion wore off. Things then went back to normal for us. I continued hating him and he continued being desperate. I'm certain he would have liked to find his witch friend again, but she was either long gone or long dead by this time—though witches aren't supposed to be immortal, so she was probably long dead. Needless to say Agyar never tried the love potion on me again.
My anger now was a lot more subdued. I stopped snapping at him at all times, and my sarcasm was much more subtle. Most of the time I'm certain he didn't even realize I was using it. I believe my change in tactics was partly due to the potion itself. Oh, not because there were still some residual effects involved, but simply because it was a rather humbling experience. I had effectively been his love slave for some two decades, and I lived in constant fear that he could make me be such again.
This time I truly had given up all hope escaping him. Whatever he asked, I did it—no complaints, no snide comments or sarcasm… I just did it. If he had asked me to convert every servant in the house, I would have done it. If he had asked me to run around on all fours and howl at everyone—and in human form, no less—I'm certain I would have done that, too. I really didn't care anymore. And even Lara noticed my change in personality.
"Perhaps we could fly together, mistress," she said one night on the roof. "To help cheer you up."
"If you wish, love," I breathed. "But not too far. I'm a little tired tonight."
"You're always tired," she said. "Come—" she continued, tugging at my arm. "A good flight will make you feel a lot better."
We flew past the forest and soon turned back toward the house. I was ready to land, but Lara indicated that she wanted to do some more exploring in the Channel's direction, and I decided to follow. The Channel was still a good few hours' flight away, but we didn't really intend to travel that far. Besides, I was becoming tired again and meant to turn back soon, Lara or no Lara. Also, I remembered that Agyar had wanted me back long before sunrise; he had said he wanted to drink a glass of wine with me in honor of our one hundred fifty-third "wedding" anniversary. I couldn't afford to keep him waiting.
I indicated that I was going to head back to the house, when Lara screeched and bade me look down. And peering through the darkness, I saw a carriage—a small one, really, but a carriage that held two people. One was lying down in the back while the other drove, and I couldn't tell which sex either of them were, as they both wore large, heavy cloaks. And they were definitely headed for Clovaine.
Lara wanted to swoop down and frighten them, maybe even nibble at them a little, but I scolded her for that and insisted we return instead. If they decided to visit us, then so be it, and if they passed right by us instead, then so be that, too.
When I reached Agyar's guest room, I heard a servant mention that it had started to rain. I had seen the clouds when Lara and I were flying, and that was part of the reason I had wanted to return quickly. Running water and vampires do not get along very well, you see.
Agyar had a small candelabra lit on the room's center table, and he held out a small tray with two goblets on it, waiting to be drunk from. I took one silently and began to drink from it, but Agyar held it away from my lips and took his own goblet and set the tray down.
"We must drink together," he said, and touched his goblet to mine.
"As you wish," I said.
"To one hundred fifty-three years of marriage," he said. "To one hundred fifty-three years of misery. You have always scorned my love."
"I have," I said. "And I plan to keep doing so."
"Yes, I would imagine you do," he agreed. "It's almost a game to you. You gain pleasure from making me miserable—"
"I think it's only fair. After all, you destroyed my life—and my will. Though, I may obey your every command, you shall never make me love you."
"I know that," he said. "And I have finally grown tired of trying. In
fact, I have been considering—" He was interrupted by a frantic knocking at the door.
"We're busy!" he yelled, and tried to complete his previous sentence, but the knocking persisted. Making a sound of anger, he stood and stormed over to the door and swung it open quickly. A small, timid boy servant was there.
"I told you we were busy!" Agyar yelled.
"F-forgive me, master," the boy stammered, "but there are people who seek refuge here. From the storm. Should I send them away?"
Agyar towered over the boy, and, after casting several glances back at me, gave his final answer.
"No," he said. "Let them in. But have them wait for me, in the first guest room. Give them something to eat, too, if they need it and we can spare it."
"Yes, master," the boy said, and turned as if to leave, but then stopped.
"Uh… one of them is very ill, master," he continued. "What should I do with him?"
"Ill, hmm?" said Agyar, rubbing his chin. "Have them wait in one of the bedrooms, then. I'll be down shortly."
"Yes, master," said the boy, and scampered away. Agyar turned to face me again.
"We have visitors, it seems," he said, and I nodded silently.
"Come," he continued, offering his arm, which I took obediently, "We'll go to greet them now. It will be good to see some fresh blood around here."
"We cannot thank you enough, good sir," the woman said as she drank from her mug of wine. "My husband has fallen so ill these past few days… And then this storm coming in—We had to rest. We thank you for giving us such fine shelter."
"There is little need for thanks," said Agyar, resting in his favorite chair. I stood behind him silently. The woman took a long sip from her wine and set the mug down. Then she drew her cloak more tightly about her and moved closer to the hearth.
"Oh, hospitality must always be thanked," she said. "But I fear we have little money with which to repay you. Perhaps a gift of some kind?"
"This is no trouble at all," Agyar insisted. "We're always happy to take in newcomers to Clovaine."
"Oh, we're really only passing through," the woman said. "My husband and I mean to travel to the East, you see. But he has fallen ill, and—"
"Where do you hail from?" Agyar asked.
"From Britain," she said. "Across the sea. From London."
I was hoping they had come from Castrill instead, but I kept my silence.
"The land has become poor, and people are falling to plagues," she continued. "We are praying that we can find a new life in the East"
"They say there is much wealth there," said Agyar.
"So we hear, as well," she agreed.""But we only wish for enough with which to live comfortably. We have taken very little with us for the journey."
"I see," he said "Well, perhaps you will both find wealth there—or what you deem to be 'comfortable'…"
"I pray so," she said. Finishing off the wine in her mug, she stared into it afterward, apparently deep in contemplation. Then she put it down suddenly and pulled her cloak in tightly again.
"I should see to my husband now," she said. "He's very ill, you see, and I should be with him tonight."
"Yes. Yes, I understand," said Agyar, who then rose to his feet to offer the woman a hand up. She thanked him courteously and made ready to leave.
"Again, we can't thank you enough," she said. "You've been so kind."
"Please—we're always happy to have guests," he said. "Enjoy your rest tonight, Lady… ?"
"Oh… Heleyne," she said. "I am Heleyne, and my husband is Charles. And you, good sir… ?"
"Agyar," he said. "And my wife here, Mara."
Heleyne bowed courteously, and Agyar acknowledged her with a slight bow of the head. I only smiled at her weakly. She thanked us both again and left, and I noticed Agyar as he watched her leave. He had the same look on his face as when he had first met me.
Their door was shut, so I pressed my ear to the wood and listened. I had thought I'd heard whispering coming from Heleyne and Charles's room, and I wondered if it was actually those two, or if Agyar had decided to get to know Heleyne better.
There was still whispering, but I heard only one voice, and in Latin, no less. I recognized some of the words as things said during a prayer, and as I listened further, I realized it was a Christian prayer. And I smiled to myself then. Agyar couldn't touch her now—not without bringing down the wrath of God on him, anyway. But then, he might also consider that to be some sort of ultimate challenge; after all, Gaar and I had barely given him a run for his money, in the end.
And then the door opened suddenly, and I jumped back as Heleyne began to step quietly outside. I startled her, though, and we both stood there a few moments holding our chests, recovering from the fright.
"Oh!" she gasped, "You're Lady… uh, Lady—Mara! Yes! Mara, right?"
"Right!" I said, and reached over to shut the door for her.
"Your husband sleeps now, yes?" I said.
"Yes. He rests as comfortably as he is able," she whispered. "I was just finishing praying for him…"
"I see," I whispered. Then: "Well, I was just—walking by, when you opened the door, and—"
"You startled me so, too!" she whispered. "I didn't frighten you, too, did I?"
"Oh, it was nothing, really," I insisted. "I just wasn't expecting you, that's all."
We laughed nervously in the hallways, and when we stopped, there was an awkward pause while we both fought for our next words. And when we finally did speak, it was simultaneously. We made several false starts before she insisted that I go first.
"I was only curious as to why you're still awake?" I whispered.
"Oh," she whispered in return. "I cannot sleep. I worry so for him. I fear he may have taken the plague with him…"
"How awful…" I whispered. "Well, perhaps there is something we can do for him?"
"Do you know of a doctor here?" she asked. "One who can help him?"
"I know of no doctor here," I murmured. "I'm sorry."
"That's all right," she said. "I'll just have to keep praying for him, and hoping…
"By the way…" she began again, "Might you have a small, private room here? One I could use as a chapel, perhaps?"
"A chapel?" I asked.
She nodded. "Only if it's no trouble to you," she insisted. "I simply wish to be by myself while I pray. I don't want to disturb Charles's rest, but I don't wish to stop trying to help him, either."
"Oh," I said. "I see. Well, I think I can find some place for you."
"Only if it's no trouble," she said.
"No, no, it's no trouble to me. I could use a way to pass the time."
"Oh, thank you, good Mara," she said. "Thank you. You are a good Christian."
"I'm—not a Christian," I said. "But you're welcome, anyway."
I know she wanted to be alone at the time, but I asked Heleyne if I could sit quietly in the back of the room and watch while she prayed. I had never seen any Christian rituals before, and apprehensive as I was, I was curious as to what one was like. I knew that its symbols could hurt me, but I couldn't understand why, and I wanted to see if I could determine the reason for myself. Fortunately she didn't seem to mind my presence.
I expected something very elaborate—perhaps many trinkets or gadgets, or perhaps a bit of strange singing and dancing—but none of that transpired. Now, one may also wonder how I could have been so ignorant about Christianity, considering that my best friend had been a Christian herself. Well, that's simple; I never saw her go through any of their rituals or ceremonies. No, not even her wedding. Oh, I saw her pray many times, but I just assumed that that wasn't really authentic, just some quick little casual beseechment such as Gaar and I always said. But it was authentic, of course.
Heleyne removed a cross, which I had to look at at an askew angle, and she held it close to her chest. Then she began whispering fervently. I tried not to listen, but my hearing is extremely sharp, and I couldn't help hearing most, if not all, of her prayers.
All of them were in Latin, and I wondered if she could actually understand what she was saying. I knew I could; Gaar had taught it to me long ago.
The cross was not in view, so I didn't have to worry about hurting my eyes, but I soon noticed that my ears were starting to ache the more I listened to her pray. And the more fervent and heartfelt the prayer, the worse they hurt, until I had to resort to plugging them to shut out her voice. And I wondered, Why? Why does one small woman asking her god for help cause me so much pain? Why does his symbol hurt my eyes, and even burn me at its touch?? What have I done to deserve such punishment from a god I hardly know anything of?
Heleyne finished one of her prayers, and I unplugged my ears before she could turn around and see my pain. I expected her to go on, but she put her cross away and rubbed her eyes. Then she turned and leaned tiredly against a heavy chair and sighed.
"I can think of no more prayers," she said. "I know not what else I can do for him. I can only hope that God has heard me, and will help us."
"He's very ill, isn't he?" I asked.
"Yes," she sighed. "Very ill. I think only a miracle could save him…"
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "It must be very difficult for you. You're very young to have such a hardship on you."
"Hardship can strike at any age," she whispered back, then was silent.
I decided to break our silence, finally.
"You seem very devoted to your god," I said.
"I try to be," she said. "But in moments like these… it's so hard. I know He listens to me when I pray, but sometimes I just wish I could just know that He has heard. Some sign…"
"Like your husband becoming well?"
"That would be the greatest sign He could give me," she said. "I would be so grateful for that." Then she sighed a little and shook her head. "But if He does not save Charles, I think I would understand," she said. "I am not as good a Christian as I ought to be."
"You seem very devoted to me."
"Seem devoted," she repeated. "But I do not pray or visit church as often as I should. It's not right to pray only during times of sorrow and crisis."
The Vampire Memoirs Page 21