A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires

by G. D. Falksen

  Glancing to the side, she saw Ekaterine staring a little, smiling at the sight of Friedrich. Varanus frowned at this and elbowed Ekaterine.

  “Hmm?” Ekaterine asked. She looked at Varanus, then at Friedrich, then back at Varanus. “What?”

  Varanus merely shook her head.

  “You have a handsome son,” Ekaterine murmured, taking Varanus’s arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Be pleased by that. No ill will come of it.”

  “I know that,” Varanus said. “I know. But a mother always fears for her son.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” Ekaterine said, grinning. Then speaking loudly, she called to Friedrich, “Friedrich! A question!”

  Friedrich turned toward them and smiled.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “There is something that has been puzzling me,” Ekaterine said. “The colors of Fuchsburg are red and blue, is that right?”

  “Yes,” Friedrich said.

  He smiled in delight at the question, perhaps pleased that his distant relation had taken an interest in his family. Though perhaps he was equally pleased at the possibility that Ekaterine’s interest was shared by his mother as well.

  “Yes, our colors are rot und blau,” he continued, walking toward them. “Or gules et azure if you prefer. Red for the fox of Fuchsburg, our traditional emblem, and blue for…well, it is for something, I don’t really know what. Perhaps the waters of the Rhine. Who knows?”

  “Then why is your uniform red and black?” Ekaterine asked.

  “Gules et sable,” Varanus added, smirking slightly.

  Friedrich smiled, much more at ease for the mirth in his mother’s voice.

  “Because we are in mourning,” he said.

  “In mourning for…?” Varanus asked.

  “For our country,” Friedrich said. “For Fuchsburg.”

  Ekaterine looked puzzled and asked, “Why?”

  “Do you know the history of Fuchsburg?” Friedrich asked. “How we came to lose our independence?”

  “No,” Ekaterine replied, arms folded. She looked more than a little displeased at having been excluded from what was clearly a choice bit of information.

  “Nor I,” Varanus said. “Your father never spoke to that during our…time together.”

  Friedrich nodded.

  “Yes,” he said, “that would make sense. It is such a small thing; I suspect most people know nothing of it. Well, we were once part of the Holy Roman Empire, you know. The great successor to the immortal Roman Empire.”

  Friedrich puffed up a bit with pride at the thought of this.

  “The Roman Empire that ended with the fall of Constantinople in 1453?” Ekaterine asked, innocently but with appropriate smugness.

  “I…what?” Friedrich answered, stumbling a bit over his words.

  “Oh hush, Ekaterine,” Varanus said. “Let those of us in the west of Europe have our little illusions.”

  “Very well,” Ekaterine replied, sighing as if pained at the thought. “If you insist. The Holy Roman Empire that followed the Roman Empire that fell sometime before 1453.”

  To his credit, Friedrich rallied from Ekaterine’s diversion and carried on, smiling gamely:

  “In those days, the barons of Fuchsburg were princes, independent lords who answered only to the Emperor himself. I say ‘himself’ because they were always men, though there was that one time when Hedwig von Fuchsburg—”

  “Friedrich,” Varanus said, as he began to drift from the point.

  “Yes, anyway,” Friedrich said, brought back on track. “Well, small as we are, we were independent within the Empire until Napoleon invaded. This was…oh, 1805, I believe. Perhaps 1806. The Emperor Franz abdicated his role as Holy Roman Emperor, though he had already declared himself Emperor of Austria—which was rather defeatist if you ask me.”

  “Very defeatist,” Ekaterine agreed.

  “Well, when that happened,” Friedrich continued, “the Empire was dissolved, and we were stripped of our authority, along with a great many other little baronies and bishoprics and free cities. Some of them were grafted into larger states, like Bavaria, which was an ally of France. The bastards. But the others, like Fuchsburg, were molded together into the Confederation of the Rhine, a client state of France.”

  “Yes, because there can be no worse fate than being a client of France,” Varanus said.

  If Friedrich noticed her sarcasm, he did not respond.

  “Well, there went our sovereignty,” he said. “From that moment onward, our soldiers wore black instead of blue until such time as we were free again. And we carried on our own little war against the French in pursuit of that noble purpose.”

  “Except that you wear black still,” Ekaterine noted.

  Friedrich frowned and replied, “Yes. You see, at the end of the war, the great powers met in Vienna to discuss how to return Europe to status quo ante bellum: the state of things before the war.”

  “I know this,” Varanus said.

  “I don’t!” Ekaterine responded, grinning brightly. She looked at Friedrich and said, “Do continue, Alis…Friedrich. You describe it all so well.”

  “Uh…oh, thank you,” Friedrich said. He sounded surprised at the compliment. “Well, Fuchsburg was among the territories that were to be given wholesale to the Prussians, to be stripped of all local authority and made just another insignificant portion of that state.”

  “But you resisted?” Varanus asked.

  “Of course we did!” Friedrich replied, proudly. “We are von Fuchsburgs! My own ancestor, Leopold von Fuchsburg—himself a great hero in the war against tyranny—went to Vienna and argued that Fuchsburg must be left under its own authority. He spoke so well and with such charm that he swayed even the King of Prussia, who was to be his new lord and master. Prussia would not give up Fuchsburg, lest the example lead to unrest in the other acquired territories. But the Prussians agreed to bind Fuchsburg to them in a feudal union, the Baron of Fuchsburg answering only to the King of Prussia, in exchange for a pledge of loyalty and for the maintaining of a regiment of Fuchsburger troops at the behest of the Prussian Army.”

  “A remarkable deliverance,” Ekaterine said.

  Friedrich sighed, perhaps feeling that he was to be the butt of a joke.

  “Laugh you may,” he said, “but we are proud of Leopold for having secured such autonomy. But all the same,” he added, frowning, “we mourn our loss of independence. Fuchsburg fared better than the other minor states of the Empire, but we deserved better still. We should be fully independent, like Luxembourg or Monaco. And until that time, we wear black instead of blue.”

  Friedrich nodded firmly, determined, perhaps, that his statement should be taken seriously and not as the exuberant ranting of a young man. It was a meaningful gesture, though in itself it was almost comical.

  Smiling, Varanus took Friedrich by the arm and held him there.

  “That is a very good reason to wear black,” she said. “Love of country is always a good reason for things. And besides, it looks very good on you.”

  “I like to think so,” Friedrich said.

  “Well,” Varanus added, after an appropriate pause, “perhaps we should retire inside. I suspect it is getting cold.”

  She suspected indeed, for she felt none of it. But a nod from Ekaterine confirmed her thinking.

  “A splendid idea!” Ekaterine exclaimed. She was very nearly shivering. “I could do with some more mulled cider. And perhaps a little wine as well.”

  “You know,” Friedrich said, “I do have some more grapes—”

  “Shh,” Ekaterine said quickly, placing a finger to her lips. “No talk of grapes and novels until we’re inside where it’s warm.”

  Varanus looked at her and said, “You are a troublemaker, you know that?”

  “I know,” Ekaterine replied proudly.

  And with that, the three of them set off into the frozen forest, heading once again for the dubious warmth and peculiar comforts of Fuchsburg castle.


  * * * *

  Returning inside, Varanus found the castle keep much changed from when they had departed it for Mass only a few hours before. The halls were cluttered with candles and boughs of holly and pine. That morning, dark cloth had been draped about everything in mourning for Korbinian’s long-awaited burial. Now all that was gone, replaced by Yuletide spirit. Even the air was festive, for it was permeated by the smells of spiced cakes baking and by fragrant nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves.

  It seemed that Ilse’s great sorrow over the death of her brother had finally passed, just in time for the eve of Christmas. It was terribly convenient, Varanus thought, and she suspected that it was part of some ploy to remind Friedrich of the comforts of home and to impel him to stay for good this time. And that thought troubled Varanus. In England and in France she had wanted nothing but for Friedrich to return to the safety of his home at once; now, as she saw his discomfort in the presence of Ilse, she wondered if perhaps she ought to throw all good sense to the wind and bring him back to Georgia without bothering to ask Iosef’s permission. He would certainly be happier there, she thought, and perhaps she might arrange a marriage for him with one of the local girls.

  And then he might finally give her some grandchildren.

  She voiced her thoughts to Korbinian, who told her she was being cynical. But, she noticed, he did not contradict her.

  Lunch had been unusually sparse in light of the funeral, and the evening meal was increased in overwhelming proportion to compensate. Truly, it was as rich as any they had enjoyed since arriving, certainly far too grandiose a spread of food for a mere four people. But Varanus had seen such displays before, and it did not startle her. Still, the piles of scented ham, venison, goose, and rabbit, the succulent fruits, the fresh salmon, and of course the spiced Fuchsburger wine, were given in such quantities and with such excess that Varanus feared to wonder just how luxuriant Christmas dinner would prove to be. After all, this was only Christmas Eve. The night before was nothing to the day itself.

  How could they afford such extravagance? Surely a family that could not heat its whole house—well, castle—was in no position to serve more food than the whole company could manage. But then, it was likely a foolish display of prestige by Ilse, seeking to show the two princesses in her company that she too was one of the great and mighty.

  I should have said that I had married a merchant or something, Varanus thought. Then she might not have squandered so much of my son’s inheritance trying to outshow me.

  Though considering the kind of woman Ilse was, that seemed unlikely. Ilse was the sort to outshow everyone around her, even those who already acknowledged her as their superior.

  Still, the meal was pleasant enough. Ekaterine and Friedrich maintained most of the conversation, though Varanus and her son did find a few moments for a discussion of certain recent advances in medicine. Of course, beneath everything was a layer of unspoken discomfort. They often strayed too close to questions of what had happened in London and of what had happened in Normandy two years ago. Each time they did, it ended with an awkward silence. Neither mother nor son had any wish to air so bizarre a set of circumstances in public.

  But while Ilse was left excluded from the matter of the conversation simply by virtue of insufficient knowledge—few if any of the topics discussed seemed familiar to her—she nevertheless always found a way to insinuate herself into the dialogue and soon thereafter forcibly shifted the topic from whatever it had been to something more pleasing to her. At first Varanus took exception to this and struggled to return them to the matter being discussed. Eventually, though, she tired of the game and simply fell into silence, waiting for an opening to discuss something of consequence once again.

  The meal took the better part of two hours, and throughout it all Varanus noticed Friedrich’s overabundant drinking. He seemed almost to breathe in wine, calling again and again for his glass to be refilled. Whenever they discussed philosophy or science, he seemed to forget his glass as if he had no need of it; but each time Ilse butted in and dominated the conversation, Friedrich’s glass was soon emptied, and he was calling for more. At least he showed few signs of drunkenness, but the act itself caused Varanus distress.

  “It seems,” Korbinian remarked at one point, “that the more time he is forced to converse with my dear sister, the more he drinks. Curious.”

  Varanus snorted a little. It was hardly curious. Ilse was so demanding, it would drive any sane person to drink. Indeed, Varanus found herself drinking heavily as well the more Ilse forced them to discuss dresses and baubles and matters of court.

  When the eating and competitive conversation was finally done, Ilse rose from her chair with an elegance and poise that made Varanus’s stomach turn—though in fairness, it might have been the rich food and wine settling that made her queasy.

  “Friedrich,” Ilse said, turning to him and smiling, “I know that you have been so very busy playing host to our unexpected guests, but perhaps you and I could share a private conversation in the parlor?”

  Friedrich immediately frowned and looked away.

  “I…” he said. “I simply don’t think that is possible, Auntie. As you say, I am the host. And it is the night before Christmas. No, no, it would be terrible of me not to spend time with Mother and Aunt Ekaterine. I fear I shall be quite monopolized until well after tomorrow. Perhaps even into the New Year.”

  “Now Friedrich…” Ilse growled.

  “Oh, we don’t mind—” Ekaterine began.

  She was probably about to say something about being happy to spare the boy for a little while, but as she spoke, she and Varanus looked at one another. Friedrich was not simply standing on ceremony. He clearly wanted very much to be with them and not with his aunt.

  “—mind seeing Alis…Fried…my son a little more,” Varanus quickly finished. “It is…good to spend time with him after so many years apart.”

  “And we see him so rarely,” Ekaterine said. “He never writes.”

  Varanus gave her a puzzled look, but Ekaterine merely nodded vigorously, certain that her comment was a helpful one.

  Ilse sighed a little, but her smile did not fade.

  “Of course, Friedrich,” she said, almost purring each word. “But you know eventually you must attend to your baronial duties. Now that you aren’t off rushing around the world for God knows what purpose, you will have to become the master of the house again.”

  “Oh, all in due time, Auntie,” Friedrich said. “But first, it is Christmas Eve, and there is so much they haven’t yet seen.”

  Ilse smiled with a little more enthusiasm and made a displeased noise. Nodding a little, she turned with a graceful rustling of skirts and strutted off toward the western side of the house.

  When she had gone, Varanus and Ekaterine rose as well. Friedrich was already on his feet, having stood like a proper gentleman when Ilse had done so. He circled the table to join them, still drunk but also more at ease.

  Varanus took him by the arm to steady him and asked:

  “What haven’t we yet seen?”

  “You haven’t seen the tree!” Friedrich said, pride in his voice.

  “The…tree?” Ekaterine asked. She sounded quite bewildered. “I have seen a great many trees these past few days. Your hillside is quite covered with them.”

  “Surely you mean that there is a special one,” Varanus said, addressing Friedrich but answering Ekaterine.

  “A very special one indeed!” Friedrich replied. “The Christmas tree!”

  Varanus and Ekaterine exchanged looks.

  “What in God’s name is a Christmas tree?” Ekaterine asked.

  * * * *

  Friedrich led them to the east wing of the keep, which jutted out into the midst of the Fuchsburger forest. Varanus had visited this part of the castle before when Friedrich had shown them the social rooms of the castle: the library, the armory, the smoking room, several drawing rooms and parlors. In all honesty, Varanus had paid little attention to a
ny of it save for the library, which was well-stocked and furnished, if sadly left to cold and cobwebs by a disinterested Ilse.

  This time, Friedrich led them beyond the rooms that they had already seen, past the smoking room, and the library, and all the rest, almost to the curtain wall itself. And there, just beyond the chapel where they had earlier held Korbinian’s second funeral, Friedrich led them through a door that had been closed and barred before.

  They entered a large square courtyard surrounded by a cloister and overlooked by an open balcony. Above, towers stood guard at each of the four corners. More than half of the courtyard was open ground, once trimmed grass but now dead and covered with snow. But though it was all very beautiful with a sort of Gothic augustness, that which had been laid out by man was secondary to the works of Nature.

  At the center of the courtyard stood a giant tree of incredible stature and girth, which towered above the surrounding walls and even the slated, snow-capped rooftop of the keep. Despite the season, it was still green and healthy, as if it were a beacon of summer shining in the darkest part of winter.

  Hundreds of candles had been placed in its branches. Some flickered in the cold air while others had gone dark, but their wax had melted all across the tree’s boughs until it seemed more like snow than wax. And the snow in turn had settled among the branches, like more wax dripped from a heavenly candle. And together, wax and snow draped the tree in a mantle of white until neither could be distinguished from the other.

  Nestled in the tree’s branches were other curiosities as well: shining baubles, bits of colored glass, shredded silver, and tiny cakes. It was an astounding sight, both in scale and in detail. Varanus found herself staring, while Ekaterine almost gaped in wonder.

  “So?” Friedrich asked, spreading his arms and grinning as he walked backward toward the tree, almost beckoning them to approach it. “What do you think?”

  “It’s a tree,” Ekaterine said, still gazing with wide eyes. “A tree covered in candles and…and froufrou.”

  Varanus sighed.