Lord of the Vampires (3 page)

NayHis heart is more evil than mine, and more pitiless. He strikes down young, old, man, woman, child, without regard for their loyalty, their wit, their circumstance. I spare the innocent and kill only those who betray me; I kill to instruct the survivors through spectacle.

God has no such qualms. He slays believer and infidel alike, and the degree of suffering He inflicts bears no relation to the victims piety. Nor does He concern Himself with justiceHe has permitted usurper after usurper to steal my rightful kingdom, and now that I have reclaimed it after years of arduous struggle, He will not help me maintain it. Thus I could never ally myself with Him, especially since He is too jealous to impart the immortality I seek.

Enough of God; I speak now of Gregor. He and I shared our Last Supper in silence, and when he had eaten to his satisfaction and pushed away from the table with a sigh, I told him:

My friend. My heart is heavy of late, for I know that support for my reign is uncertain. The
boiers
have turned against meand when he began a supposedly innocent protest, I raised my hand. Do not think I do not know it! And now that Stefan has withdrawn his forces, the situation is more precarious. This he could not disavow. After all, to spare them danger, I had not permitted my wife and sons to join me at my Bucharest court. I paused and, in a tone of utmost earnestness, asked, Gregor. Will you pray for me? For your princes safety and success? I know you are a man of faith, and I am deemed by some a heretic And here I paused to steal a sidewise glance at the grizzled monk, who stood in readiness to serve (albeit closer to the fire, to warm his old bones). But the brothers gaze was hooded, his expression unreadable; perhaps he was deaf, I thought, and had not heard. Or perhaps he was simply too wise a man to make open his contempt, knowing that I would not forgive it. Beseech God and the Virgin on my behalf.

Of course Gregor could do no else. He nodded, and with solemnity, I rose from the table and led him to the monastic little cell, whose door lay ajar so that its interior was entirely visible from our dinner table. I crossed myself (in good Orthodox fashion, which I had no doubt the old monk noticed) and, stopping at the doorway, gestured for my aide to enter and kneel on the small rug in front of the solitary shrine to the Mother of Christ.

He sank down with a groan and creaking knees; like me, he is no longer young. Pray for us, I said tenderly, and gestured to the young soldier by the fire to take up Gregors own weapon and stand in my place. I could see my kneeling Judas face in profilehow like my own it was! He might have been my brother; my own backstabbing brother. I watched that sun-weathered face, with its sharp but delicate nose and chin, its thin, trembling lips beneath the dark drooping mustache. I savoured the charming slow dawn of terror in those large eyes, black as mine were green, as the soldier lifted the sword. Then I returned to my place at the dinner tablethe tableau was entirely visible from my seat, according to my own design (it was not the first time I had made use of the cell, though I suspect it will be the last)and lifted my glass to drink deep of sweet, stinging wine ere I spoke again.

Pray, my friend. Pray for my long life and death to those who would betray me.

He let go a wrenching sob and pressed his palms together in earnest supplication, turning on his knees to face me. The little rug moved with him, rippling. My lord, I swear that I have not deceived you!

I let a long, tortured moment pass for him before I replied, my voice soft, curious. Did
I
accuse you?

His eyes widened; then he blinked, and pressed his quivering lips together. In truth, had he been able to think of a compelling reply, and had I trusted my magic any less, I might have spared him then. But I was certain of the vision that had come to me in Circle, and my own divinations. Even were I not, the look of stricken self-incrimination which descended at that instant upon Gregors features would have convinced me. A single shining drop slid down his cheek.

Oho! I exulted. Is this a tear?

My lord, I beg

Turn! I cried, gesturing for the soldier to brandish the sword. His cravenness so fuelled my rage that it would no longer be submerged. Turn, and pray to the Virgin! Pray that she might grant you mercy, and me victory over Basarab!

He knit his hands together fervently and once more faced Marys shrine; beneath his knees, the small rug bunched up further to reveal a seam in the wooden floor. Yet my would-be deceiver never noticed; his attention had become sincerely fixed on the icon of the Virgin Mother, and he began to babble, knuckles pressed to the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut.

Have mercy! God and Holy Motherhave mercy! Grant my sovereign long life, and victory, and convince him that I have not betrayed him

Yes, I whispered. Perhaps God will be merciful to youbut He has never been thus to me, and so I will not bargain with Him.

My Lord, he cried, still facing the shrine with his eyes closed so that I was uncertain whether he addressed God or me. My Lord, I am innocent of any crime against you! What can I say, what can I do, to prove my perfect loyalty?

Die with bravery, said I. Your life is already forfeit, Gregor. Make your peace, and quickly. I shall not die outside Bucharest as my father did, struck down by an assassin.

He raised his face towards Heaven, then opened his praying hands as one might a book and pressed them to his eyes, weeping. I studied his reaction to the revelation that all hope was lost: noted the electric agony, the utter desperation, reflected in each aspect of his body, his voice (for his sobs grew resoundingly loud and shrill). I have been my whole life a student of the Death, staring into Its face in hopes that I might understand and be able to accept my own end. How many men have I killed in my lifea thousand? No, it must be more, many more. I
know
the face of Death; I watched more than a hundred Turks meet their slow deaths in the Forest of the Impaled alone. I have heard mens sobs and screams, and the slow sighing sound made by a body pulled down onto the stake by its own weight.

And in each instance I have looked into their eyes and tried to understand the Secret hidden there as they passed from life into the Abyss.

But as I contemplated Deathand came to see that God was not just, and that there
was
no meaning there, only indignity and sufferingI came to know that I could never accept it. I had been cheated of too much that was rightfully mine in this life; I had ruled my fathers, my grandfathers, kingdom for only a handful of years before I was ousted unjustly. I am royalty by birthright; but I spent my whole youth as a Turkish prisoner, and eight of my middle years as a prisoner of the Hungarian king. My kingdom has been stolen from me twice, once by my own brother: if I relinquish it a third time, I shall have recompenseI who am shrewder, more cunning, more deserving of my peoples adoration, than Matthias, than Mehmed, than Radu or Basarab.

Death is surely closer to me now than at any other time. Yet God and the angels would not grant me my desire: immortality. There is only One other capable.

* * *

As Gregor wept and prayed in vain, the soldier in the doorway turned his hopeful young face (with its thin, patchy boys beard on tender pink cheeks and chin) towards me and motioned with his sword, his gaze a question. He will make a fine assassin, that one, for his eyes were bright with eagerness and yearning, much as mine.

I gave a single small shake of my head; not yet. Instead, I rose and walked over to stand beside my cheerful young killer, taking care that my boots struck the floor solidly. As Id planned, Gregor heard. His back tensed; I knew he expected Death to come up behind him, in the form of the sword gripped in the young soldiers hand. And though he dared not turn his head completely round to look straight at mehe had witnessed my sensitivity to the smallest presumption in these situations many times, and feared provoking a burst of ragehe inclined it slightly over its shoulder, and swiveled his eyes in an effort to look behind him.

Wild eyes those were, with more white in them than I had ever seen. I was reminded strongly of the bulging, frantic eyes of cattle at the slaughter.

My lord, my lord, my lord, you kill an innocent man!

Indeed? I asked, my voice once again calm. Gregor And here I affected the utmost sincerity. I am a hard man and cannot tolerate any degree of duplicity. I am cruel to those who betray me, but just to the loyal. Can you swear before God that you have acted with naught but total faithfulness towards me, your sovereign?

I swear it before God, my lord!

I paused for a moment to watch his expression, and the wild swing there between hope and doom. After a time, I said, Very well, my friend. These are dangerous times for me; I have no choice but to test the loyalty of those in my inner circle. I believe you.

Oh, the joy upon his face! And once again tears, but these were tinged with happy relief instead of fear.

But
, said I, for he had begun to struggle to his feet.

At that word, he sank at once back down. You have passed only narrowly. Pray now for my victory over all enemiesand thank God for your deliverance.

He began to do so, and his exultant smile broadened when I motioned for the soldiernow bitterly disap pointedto retreat back to the fireplace, to stand beside the grimly silent old monk. But I remained within the doorway.

And when I deemed the time rightand could no longer restrain my fury at Gregors betrayal and his cow ardiceI reached for a wooden lever set within the wall just outside the cell. With vehement effort, I pulled.

The sliding sound of wood against wood. Arms flung into the air, a piteous cry of disappointment and fear. And upon his face animal terror again, a sight rapid yet indelible in the swift second before he disappeared down to Hell.

Then the sharper screams of pain as I ran forward towards the gaping trapdoor to observe my handiwork.

This is how God feels when He looks on the faces of the dead: a sense of power and accomplishment far, far sweeter and more intoxicating than love.

Gregor had fallen into the shallow pit upon his knees, and thus, kneeling, would he die. For the keenly sharp iron pales were fastened in the ground at regular intervals, to ensure death, and the pit so placed that he could not fall forwardonly back, despite his flailing, onto the spikes. (This so I might better see his face.) One had caught his long dark hair and grazed the back of his skull, leaving his head tilted slightly forward; another emerged bloodied from his right breast. Yet others protruded from the crook of his right arm, from the center of his left palm (in Christlike fashion), while others sight unseen no doubt pierced his lower legs and held him fast.

His eyes were open wide, in blank astonishment which was slowly fading. I think he was not quite dead, and so I squatted on my haunches and called softly down:

May God send your faithless soul straight to Hell. You shall die, and Basarab shall die, but I shall live for ever.

And I bent forward, turning so that the two living men behind me could not see, and lifted up Gregors limp right hand. Upon this I put my own ring.

Then I rose and sent the young soldier just outside the room, to guard us, and took the old monk aside. Him I gave a mission: that he should take whatever strong young brothers he needed, and take the body across the lake into the Vlasia Forest, and there behead it. As for the head, they would cut a hole in the ice and throw it into the freezing waters.

Fear was in the old man, too, after what he had seen; he listened in silence and uttered no protest, even though I was asking him to do the unthinkableto leave a body without proper burial for the carrion birds in the forest.

And when I had sent him away to do his work, I called my eager young assassin into my chambers and said, The old monk will return with some brothers to fetch the body for burial outside Snagov. When they return from across the water, I want you to be waiting for them in the watchtower; do not let them back inside, but meet them at the gate and kill them.

This he agreed to eagerly. Then I bade him send an other trustworthy soldier to stand outside the door and guard my private chambers throughout the night, so that no one should be permitted in.

But first, I helped him to remove Gregors still bleed ing, warm body (did he still breathe? I could not decide) from its bed of stakes and wrap it in the traitors cloak and the now-tattered rug, to spare the floor from stain. Then the soldier dragged Gregor by the heels out into the hallway, and there they remained to await the brothers.

As for me, I bolted the door behind them, as I required privacy in order to properly cast a Circle. Now that I had made my escape from Basarab and my Judas, it was time to make my escape from Death. For it was clear to me that my success as an earthly prince was not to be, and that if I remained as I was, my death was assured. Thus I sought another realm, one that was deathless yet still allowed me power over mortals.

And so I turned, thinking to go back to the small shrine where so many have met death, and fetch from another hidden trapdoor my magical tools, that I might cast a Circle and summon again the Dark Lord for the consummation of our bargain.

Yet as I turned, I espied before the fireplace a ragged servant child stirring the fire with a poker. The sight so startled me that I cried out: You! Boy! How and when did you come in here? For I wanted to know whether the child had had opportunity to overhear my plan to leave Gregors decapitated body in the forest, then have the monks killed. From the childs size, he surely was no more than in his sixth year, and most likely had understood little of what he had heard; but children are parrots, and I would not risk even the frailest chance of failure.

At my shout, the tiny creature did not so much as quiver, but continued tending the fire with preternatural calm. Infuriated, I strode up behind it, snatched up my sword, and drew it from its sheath, thinking to cleave that small body in two.

But in the instant ere I struck, the child turned to me and smiled.