by Rice, Anne
This was a ceremony that I sometimes failed to do, and I was pleased to see it.
“And are you happy with your visit to the Talamasca?” she asked in her frank voice. She had that beguiling look of simplicity on her face which always prompted me to tell her everything.
“I was most pleased. I found them the honest scholars they professed to be. I gave them what knowledge I could, but by no means what I might, for that would have been too foolish. But all they seek is knowledge and I left them more than happy.”
She narrowed her eyes as if she could not quite imagine what the Talamasca was and I understood her.
I sat down beside her, folded her close and wrapped the fur cloak around us both.
“You smell of the cold, good wind,” she said. “Perhaps we are meant to be creatures of the shrine only, creatures of the cold sky and the inhospitable mountains.”
I said nothing, but in my mind I thought of only one thing: the far-off city of Dresden. Pandora sooner or later always returned to Dresden.
31
A hundred years would pass before I found Pandora.
During that time my powers increased enormously.
That night after my return from the Talamasca in England, I tested all of them and made certain that, never again would I be at the mercy of Santino’s miscreants. For many nights I left Bianca to herself as I made certain of my advantages.
And once I was utterly sure of my swiftness, of the Fire Gift, and of an immeasurable power to destroy with invisible force, I went to Paris with no other thought but to spy upon Amadeo’s coven.
Before I left for this little venture, I confessed my goals to Bianca and she had at once beseeched me not to court such danger.
“No, let me go,” I responded. “I could hear his voice now over the miles perhaps if I chose to do it. But I must be certain of what I hear and what I see. And I shall tell you something else. I have no desire to reclaim him.”
She was saddened by this, but she seemed to understand it. She kept her usual place in the corner of the shrine, merely nodding to me and exacting the promise from me that I would be most careful.
As soon as I reached Paris, I fed from one of several murderers, luring him by the powerful Spell Gift from his place in a comfortable inn, and then I sought refuge in a high bell tower of Notre Dame de Paris itself to listen to the miscreants.
Indeed, it was a huge nest of the most despicable and hateful beings, and they had sought out a catacomb for their existence in Paris just as they had in ancient Rome centuries ago.
This catacomb was under the cemetery called Les Innocents, and those words seemed tragically apt when I caught their addle-brained vows and chants before they poured out into the night to bring cruelty as well as death to the people of Paris.
“All for Satan, all for the Beast, all to serve God, and then return to our penitential existence.”
It was not difficult for me to find, through many different minds, the location of my Amadeo, and within an hour or so of my arrival in Paris, I had him fixed as he walked through a narrow medieval street, never dreaming that I watched him from above in bitter silence.
He was dressed in rags, his hair caked with filth, and when he found his first victim, he visited upon her a painful death which appalled me.
For an hour or more my eyes followed him as he proceeded on, feeding on another hapless creature, and then circling back to walk his way to the enormous cemetery.
Leaning against the cold stone of the tower room, I heard him deep in his underground cell drawing together his “coven” as he himself now called it and demanding of each how he or she had harried, for the love of God, the local population.
“Children of Darkness, it is almost dawn. Each of you shall now open his or her soul to me.”
How firm, how clear was his voice. How certain he was of what he said. How quick he was to correct any Child of Satan who had not slain mortals ruthlessly. It was a man’s voice I heard coming from the lips of the boy I once knew. It was chilling to me.
“Why were you given the Dark Gift?” he demanded of a laggard. “Tomorrow night you must strike twice. And if all of you do not give me greater devotion, I shall punish you for your sins, and see that others are brought into the coven.”
At last I couldn’t listen anymore. I was repelled.
I dreamt of going down into his underground world, of pulling him out of it as I burnt his followers, and forcing him into the light, of taking him with me to the shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept, and pleading with him to renounce his vocation.
But I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.
For years and years, he had been one of them. His mind, his soul, his body belonged to those he ruled; and nothing that I had taught him had given him the strength to fight them.
He was not my Amadeo anymore. That is what I had come to Paris to learn and now I knew the truth of it.
I felt sadness. I felt despair. But maybe it was anger and revulsion which caused me to leave Paris that night, saying to myself in essence that he must free himself from the dark mentality of the coven on his own. I could not do it for him.
I had labored long and hard in Venice to erase his memory of the Monastery of the Caves. And now he had found another place of rigid ritual and denial. And his years with me had not protected him from it. Indeed, a circle had long ago closed for him. He was the priest once more. He was the Fool for Satan, as he had once been the Fool for God in far-away Russia. And his brief time with me in Venice had been nothing.
When I told these things to Bianca, when I explained them as best I could, she was sad but she didn’t press me.
It was easy between us as always, with her listening to me, and then offering her own response without anger.
“Perhaps in time, you’ll change your mind,” she said. “You are the one with the power to go there, to fight those who would restrain him if you tried to take him. And that is what it would require, I think, that you would have to take him by force, insist that he come here to be with you, and see the Divine Parents. I don’t possess the power to do these things. I ask only that you think on it, that you make no bitter iron resolve against it.”
“I give you my word,” I said, “I have not done that. But I do not think the sight of the Divine Parents would change the heart of Amadeo.” I paused.
I thought on all this for a long moment and then I spoke to her more directly:
“You’ve only shared this knowledge with me for a brief time,” I said. “And in the Divine Parents we both see great beauty. But Amadeo might well see something different. Remember what I’ve told you of the long centuries that lie behind me. The Divine Parents do not speak. The Divine Parents do not redeem. The Divine Parents ask for nothing.”
“I understand,” she said.
But she didn’t. She had not spent enough years with the King and Queen. She couldn’t possibly comprehend the full effect of their passivity. But I went on in a mild manner:
“Amadeo possesses a creed, and a seeming place in God’s plan,” I said. “He might well see our Mother and Father as an enigma belonging to a pagan era. That wouldn’t warm his heart. That wouldn’t give him the strength which he derives now from his flock, and believe you me, Bianca, he is the leader there. Our boy of long ago is old now; he is a sage of the Children of Darkness as they call themselves.” I sighed.
A little flash of bitter memory came back to me, of Santino asking me when we met in Rome if Those Who Must Be Kept were holy or profane.
I told this to Bianca.
“Ah, then you spoke to this creature. You’ve never told me this.”
“Oh, yes, I spoke to him and spurned him and insulted him. I did all of these foolish things when something more vicious was required. Indeed, when the very words ‘Those Who Must Be Kept’ had come from his lips, I should have put an end to him.”
She nodded. “I come more and more to understand it. Yet still I hope in time that you will return to Paris, that you
will at least reveal yourself to Amadeo. They are weak ones, are they not, and you could come upon him in some open place where you could—.”
“I know well what you mean to say,” I answered. “I wouldn’t allow myself ever to be surrounded by torches. Perhaps I will do as you suggest. But I’ve heard Amadeo’s voice, and I don’t believe he can be changed now. And there is one thing more which is worth mentioning. Amadeo knows how to free himself from this coven.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am. Amadeo knows how to live in the lighted world, and he is ten times stronger by virtue of my old blood than are those who listen to his commands. He could break away. He chooses not to do it.”
“Marius,” she said plaintively, “you know how much I love you and how loath I am to contradict you.”
“No, say what you must say,” I urged her at once.
“Think of what he suffered,” she said. “He was but a child when it happened.”
I agreed to all this. Then I spoke again:
“Well, he’s no child now, Bianca. He may be as beautiful as he was when I made him through the Blood, but he is a patriarch in the dust. And all of Paris, the wondrous city of Paris, surrounds him. I watched him move through the city streets alone. There was no one there to restrict him. He might have sought the Evil Doer as we do. But he did not. He drank deep of innocent blood, not once but twice.”
“Ah, I see. This is what has so embittered you.”
I thought on it.
“Yes, you’re right. It’s what turned me away, though I didn’t even know it. I thought it was the manner in which he spoke to his flock. But you are right. It was those two deaths, from which he drew his hot red feast, when Paris swarmed with mortals steeped in murder who might easily have been slain by him.”
She laid her hand on mine.
“If I choose to snatch any one of these Children of Darkness from his lair,” I said, “it is Santino.”
“No, but you mustn’t go to Rome. You don’t know whether or not there are old ones among that coven.”
“Some night,” I said, “some night I shall go there. When I am more certain of immense power, and when I am more certain of the ruthless rage it requires to destroy many others.”
“Be still now,” she said. “Forgive me.”
I was quiet for a moment.
She knew how many nights I had wandered alone. I had now to confess what I had been doing on those nights. I had now to begin my secret plan. I had now—for the first time in all our years together—to drive a wedge between her and me, while giving her precisely what she wanted.
“But let’s leave talk of Amadeo,” I said. “My mind is on happier things.”
She was immediately interested. She reached out and stroked my face and hair as was her custom.
“Tell me.”
“How long has it been since you asked me if we could have our own dwelling?”
“Oh, Marius, don’t tease me on this account. Is it possible!”
“My darling, it’s more than possible,” I said, warmed by her beaming smile. “I have found a splendid place, a lovely little city on the Elbe River in Saxony.”
For this I received the sweetest kiss.
“Now in these many nights when I have been off on my own, I have taken the liberty of acquiring a castle near the city, a much decayed place, and I hope you’ll forgive me—.”
“Marius, this is momentous news!” she said.
“I have already spent a considerable sum for the repairs—the new wooden floors and stairs, glass windows, and abundant furnishings.”
“Oh, but this is wonderful,” she said. She put her arms around me.
“I’m relieved that you’re not angry with me,” I said, “for moving so quickly without you. You might say I fell in love with the place, and taking several drapers and carpenters there I told them my dreams and now all is being done as I have directed.”
“Oh, how could I be angry?” she said. “I want it more than anything in the world.”
“There is one more aspect to this castle which I should disclose,” I said. “Though the more modern building above is more like a palace than a castle, its foundations are quite old. Indeed, a major part of the foundations were built in early times. And there are huge crypts beneath it, and a true dungeon.”
“You mean to move the Divine Parents?” she asked.
“I do. I think it’s time for it. You know as well as I that there are small cities and towns springing up all around us. We aren’t isolated here. Yes, I want to move the Divine Parents.”
“If you say, of course, I go along with you.” She was too happy to conceal it. “But is it safe there? Didn’t you remove them to this remote place so that you never had to fear their discovery?”
I thought on this for a while before answering.
At last I said:
“It is safe there. And with the passing centuries, the world of the Undead changes around us. And I can’t endure this place any longer. And so I take them to a new place. And there are no blood drinkers in it. I have searched far and wide for them. They aren’t there. I hear no young ones. I hear no old ones. I believe it’s safe. And perhaps the most true answer to that logic is this: I want to bring them there. I want a new place. I want new mountains and new forests.”
“I understand,” she said. “Oh, I do understand,” she said again. “And more than ever, I believe that they can defend themselves. Oh, they need you, I don’t doubt it, and that’s why on that long ago night they opened the door for you and lighted the lamps. I can still remember it so vividly. But I spend long hours here simply gazing at them. And I have many thoughts during these hours. And I believe that they would defend themselves against any who sought to hurt them.”
I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t bother to remind her that centuries ago they had allowed themselves to be placed in the sun. What was the purpose? And for all I knew she was right. They would crush anyone who tried to subject them to such injury.
“Come now,” she said, seeing me fallen into a mood. “I’m too happy with this good news. Be happy with me.”
She kissed me as if she couldn’t stop herself. She was so innocent in those moments.
And I, I was lying to her, truly lying to her for the first time in all our years together.
I was lying because I hadn’t told her a word of Pandora. I was lying because I didn’t truly believe that she could harbor no jealousy of Pandora. And because I couldn’t tell her that my love for Pandora lay at the very heart of what I did. What creature would want to reveal such a scheme to a lover?
I meant to place us in Dresden. I meant to remain in Dresden. I meant to be near Dresden at every sunset of my existence until such time as Pandora came again. And I could not tell this to Bianca.
And so I pretended that it was for her that I had chosen this beautiful home, and indeed it was for her, there is no doubt of it. It was for her to make her happy, yes. But that was not all of it.
Within the month, we began work on the new shrine, utterly transforming the castle dungeon in Saxony into a fit place for the King and Queen.
Goldsmiths and painters and stone masons were brought down the many flights of stone steps to enhance the dungeon until it was the most marvelous private chapel.
The throne was covered in gold leaf as was the dais.
And once again, the proper bronze lamps were found, fresh and new. And there were rich candelabra of gold and silver.
I alone labored on the heavy iron doors and their complex fastenings.
As for the castle, it was more of a palace than a castle, as I’ve said, having been rebuilt several times, and it was charming in its placement above the banks of the Elbe, and it had around it a lovely forest of beech, oak and birch trees. There was a terrace from which one could look down at the river, and from many large windows, one could see the distant city of Dresden.
Of course we would never hunt in Dresden or in the surrounding hamlets. We
would go far afield as had always been our custom. And we would waylay the forest brigands, an activity which had become a regular sport for us.
Bianca had some concerns. And only reluctantly she confessed to me that she had some fear of living in a place where she could not hunt for herself without me.
“Dresden is big enough to serve your appetite,” I said, “if I were not able to carry you elsewhere. You’ll see. It’s a beautiful city, a young city I should say, but under the Duke of Saxony it’s coming along magnificently.”
“You’re sure of this,” she asked.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it, and as I’ve told you, I’m also sure that the forests of Saxony and nearby Thuringia contain their number of murderous thieves who have always been such a special repast for us.”
She thought on all this.
“Let me remind you, my darling,” I said, “you can on any night cut your beautiful blond hair with the full confidence that it will grow back by day, and you can go out clothed as a man, traveling with preternatural speed and strength to hunt your victims. Perhaps we should play at this very soon after our arrival.”
“Yes, would you allow me this?” she asked.
“Of course, I shall.” I was astonished by her gratitude.
Again she showered me with grateful kisses.
“But I must caution you on something,” I said. “The area to which we move has many small villages, and in these the belief in witchcraft and vampires is quite strong.”
“Vampires,” she said. “This is the word used by your friend in the Talamasca.”
“Yes,” I replied. “We must always cover the evidence of our feast, lest we become an immediate legend.”
She laughed.
Finally the castle or schloss as they were called in that part of the world was ready, and it was time for us to make preparations.
But something else had come to my mind, and I was haunted by it.
Finally there came a night when as Bianca slept in her corner, I proposed to deal with this matter.
I knelt down on the bare marble and prayed to my motionless and beautiful Akasha and asked her in most specific words if she would allow Bianca to drink from her.