C3 Chapter 3

They stayed up late into the night talking. For much too long a time, Yves thought. The evening fog had long since risen like damp smoke from the valley and the forest. It was too dark to see it now, but you could sense the chill, lingering fingers of the fog quietly moving, fumbling and reaching towards the windows behind the curtains, as though searching longingly for the human warmth inside.

Indoors it was warm, but Yves could not shed his unease, despite the many candles that lit the room. It was as though the walls were dripping with moisture behind the tapestries, as though the dampness was penetrating the animal hides.

But there was something else in the room. Something much worse. Like a smell of earth that became increasingly potent as the night fell and the coldness it brought with it seeped through the walls of the old castle.

It was Princess Feodora who steered the conversation. She was sitting right next to Yves, attractive and mysterious as the glittering lights made her beautiful silk dress shimmer and her eyes sparkle. Yves contributed to the conversation as much as he could; he was gallant and lively and may have charmed her a little too much. He would have to be careful that she wasn’t the one he would end up taking to his room.

Little Nicola sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, a cowed and unhappy little creature. All Yves’ attempts to draw her into the conversation were quickly checked by the princess who answered for her. It irritated Yves tremendously.

On the other hand, he had to be careful not to show too much of an interest in Nicola. The aunt must not grow suspicious! It was a delicate balance between the languishing and jealous princess and the lonesome Nicola. A balance that Yves did not feel he was able to strike.

Princess Feodora knew so much about the history of the place, and it was fascinating to listen to her. However, there were limits! He started to grow nervous.

In her beautiful, soporific voice, the princess told him of the time the castle was attacked by the Turks and the prince prevented the whole of Ardeal from falling into enemy hands. The name of the prince at the time was Boris: he had four wives, and kept each of them in a separate room in the castle for otherwise they would have killed one another, he was so desirable. Yves was to spend the night in one of these rooms. The princess also told him about a prince who had fought in the Battle of Mohács in 1526, when another part of Ardeal came under Turkish rule.

“But Ardeal ended up belonging to Austria-Hungary,” Yves said. “Under the name of Siebenbürger.”

He shouldn’t have said that. It did not seem that Feodora cared to be reminded of it.

He wished she wasn’t sitting so close to him. There was a dreadful feeling of unpleasantness lurking within him that he could not define. Shivers and forebodings of evil and death and catastrophes made his head swim so much that he could barely sit still.

“But where does the name ‘Transylvania’ come from?” he asked. “There are so many different ways to spell it! With one ‘s’ or two, or with ‘i’ or ‘y’ in various combinations.”

“For me the name of the country is Ardeal,” she said curtly. “Everything else is a recent invention.”

Well, that means she isn’t Hungarian, Yves thought. Because the Hungarians called the country Erdély. Ardeal was a Romanian name.

Finally the princess stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. The evening was now at its darkest. Yves was convinced that had there been a device as modern as a clock in this ancient castle, it would have struck midnight a long time ago.

Soon the evening would draw to a close and then the new day would come. A day in which Yves would ride away from here with Nicola sitting in front of him on his saddle!

But first they were to spend the whole night together in his room. Yves grew warm at the thought of it.

On their way to their rooms, carrying candlesticks in their hands, Yves thought how uninterested the princess seemed in the present day and the world outside the castle. He had made several attempts to tell her about his own country and about the Europe through which he had just travelled, but she didn’t seem to care in the least. She lived in the past and didn’t wish to leave it.

It was good that Yves would now be able to help the poor young girl get away from the castle. It would be nice for her. Yves felt that he was being generous and unselfish. Or perhaps he was not. He was bewitched by the girl and simply wanted her.

Now, in the evening, the castle seemed more forbidding than ever as they walked through hall after hall in the flickering light. They went through the gallery again where the ancestors of the family peered down at them from the paintings on the wall. The fluttering shadows made them practically come to life.

There was Bogdan the Wild, who had ridden on horseback on the table to get rid of his enemies. He looked terrifying! His cold gaze followed the three of them as they made their way through the hall. And there was Boris and his four wives – didn’t it seem as though their eyes were moving? Which of them had occupied the room in which Yves was to spend the night? Was it the one wearing the black hat, twisting her mouth in a contemptible, knowing expression?

Anciol, the bride who had been betrayed, was not included in the family portraits, but there was the beautiful woman whom Yves thought resembled Feodora so much – which was not so strange since she was her first ancestress. And then came the painting of the three brothers who had been decapitated by the Turks at Mohács. All this the princess had told him about earlier that day, with undisguised delight.

Yves was relieved when they left the gallery, but wondered how he was to find his way back from his room when he made his escape in the early hours of the morning. Ah, but he would have Nicola with him, so it would probably all be fine.

If only it were all over and done with now!

They finally reached his room. Yves shuddered. What was it that nearly frightened him to death?

There was nothing to see. The room was small and dominated by a canopy bed with black, carved bedposts. The walls were covered with tapestries, in this case with hunting themes, but the bloody scenes didn’t bother him because he had no feeling for animals.

No, it was the sickening undercurrent in the room that frightened him. Was it an odour or just stale air he could smell? He couldn’t tell.

“You should find everything you need in here,” said Princess Feodora, in a last attempt to win his favours. That was at least how Yves perceived it.

But to no avail, my beauty, you are not the one I want! You ought to have understood that by now!

But he was also a little bit afraid. Princess Feodora was not to be trifled with! Imagine if she really could practise witchcraft! Then he was in a bad position now!

Oh, what nonsense for someone as level-headed and realistic as himself to be thinking. It was probably the unpleasant atmosphere of the castle that was affecting him.

Finally the princess went, leaving him to himself in the enormous silence. It was a long way to the castle gate and he had to go through the gallery ... if only Nicola would come soon!

He didn’t know whether to undress, as he was awaiting a visit from a lady! There didn’t seem to be any nightclothes in the room, so he just took off the outer layers of his clothing, keeping his shirt and breeches on. He looked at his reflection in an old, battered mirror and was pleased with what he saw.

All at once he pricked up his ears.

Voices? He could hear them in the room next door!

It was two women! It sounded as though they were arguing. He could hear the sharp, bitingly ironic voice of the princess and Nicola’s meek, almost sobbing responses.

They were undoubtedly arguing over him!

He tried to work out where they could be. The castle was built in a square surrounding an inner courtyard. In which direction had they gone ...?

No, he couldn’t figure it out and it was pitch dark outside. But perhaps ... there was a possibility that the ladies’ apartments adjoined his bedroom.

He stared at the wall from which the voices were coming. A large tapestry depicting a hunting scene was hanging there. Then he heard something that sounded like a subdued blow and Nicola sobbing.

He hoped this didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be able to come to him! It was no use for him to venture out in search of her, he would just get lost if he did.

The wall? He walked over to it. The single candle he had been given barely lit the room, but he was able to see a little.

He carefully took hold of the tapestry as though he were afraid to touch it. It wasn’t pleasant to the touch, either, it was strangely rough and when he lifted one of its corners away from the wall, a cloud of dust enveloped him.

He looked behind the tapestry. There was a door, but it seemed to be barricaded with boards. He could now hear the voices more clearly. Nicola was trying to protest but was constantly interrupted by the princess’s gruff voice.

Damn! Did that mean that their plan had been revealed? That Nicola would be unable to come to him? That they wouldn’t be able to escape together?

Or that Feodora had won the struggle and intended to visit him herself?

Damn!

He examined the door but it had been nailed shut so thoroughly that it was impossible for him to open it.

What would happen if he knocked on it? Would that just make the situation worse for little Nicola? That poor girl! He felt increasingly attached to her with every minute that passed.

He would have to resign himself to his fate and just hope for the best. Everything depended on her now.

He was powerless, bound hand and foot in this frightening castle he couldn’t find his way around. There was nothing else he could do but wait.

A horrifying thought suddenly struck him. It might be that he was unable to get through that door but perhaps it could be opened in some way from the other side, so someone could sneak in to his room without being seen, someone who was unwelcome?

No, he didn’t think that could be possible. It looked as though it had been firmly barricaded, and he had to stop being so childish!

The voices died away. The women had apparently settled down.

He hadn’t seen any servants other than the scrawny coachman. The princess had probably given them the night off so that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Yves wondered where the servants slept. The servants’ wing had been dark all evening.

Perhaps they lived down in the village? At the inn? He hoped for their sake that they did. In fact he wished that he himself were there now.

Had it only not been for Nicola, that is!

His uncle would probably be surprised when he saw Yves arrive with the girl the following morning. But he would undoubtedly be pleased with Yves’ decision. A good match, a good name in this country in which they planned to settle down. Of princely origin. That was something that would make an impression around here, he was certain.

Or would his uncle frown on his decision? Perhaps his uncle and Princess Feodora had had a rendezvous the night before, in which case his uncle would be angry with Yves because he had defied the beautiful witch?

Without knowing that the name Stregesti derived from the word “witch”, Yves had called Princess Feodora exactly that – a witch.

Yves stood there at a loss for a moment. But since no more sounds came from the other side of the wall and nothing else occurred, he hesitantly went over to the bed. It seemed that he would have to give up his whole chivalrous rescue expedition. He would just have to hope that new possibilities would arise when morning came.

Yves sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t feel like lying down. It was as though the ceiling was pressing down on him with its heavy, dark beams, and the dark, dusty hangings around the canopy bed made him ill at ease as well.

He certainly did not feel like blowing out the candle.

He wondered whether he could let it burn all night? Would it last until morning?

You are really stupid, Yves said to himself. You are living like a prince here, when you have been used to sleeping in barns and ditches all the way across Europe. Don’t be silly!

The castle was so quiet that it was as though all the sounds of the world had faded away. No, now he heard steps. He froze.

Were they coming from the hall outside? Or the gallery? Was someone on the way to his room?

It was one of the women, but who?

He was greatly relieved when Nicola’s lovely figure appeared at the door. He rushed over to take her in his arms but she put her fingers to her lips and pointed at the wall with the tapestry.

Her eyes flashed roguishly. Soundlessly she went to him, dressed in a gossamer nightgown and nothing else. It flowed shimmering gracefully about her body as she walked. She stretched out her arms and let herself be caught in his embrace.

How light she was! It was like holding a sprite in your arms. His mouth against her ear, he whispered, “Is this all you have with you for our escape?”

“No, no!” she whispered and, gesticulating, indicated that she had left her things outside the door. That might be a little dangerous if the princess decided to do her nightly rounds in the castle, but Yves was so intoxicated by Nicola’s presence that he forgot all about possible dangers. They were together, their whole life lay before them; they were invulnerable!

She had let down her thick, black hair. It reached her thighs. However, Yves was convinced that the princess’s was longer. He caressed Nicola’s hair and noticed how soft it was. A woman’s hair is sensual, he thought. He had always had a weakness for a woman’s long dark hair and just touching it caused his body to respond and his mind to create fantasies about what could happen ...

“I’m cold,” she whispered.

And he believed her! Imagine sneaking through the chilly castle in that thin garment! Her skin was cold to the touch ...

“Come, I’ll warm you,” he whispered, and lifted her onto the bed the way he had lifted so many other young – and some not so young – women before her. But this time it was special. Never before had he held such a mysterious and stirring woman in his arms! Of course, it also had to do with the surroundings and the situation. To have the chance to trick her away from the beautiful but evil witch, to give her a life among other people, to win a wife of princely descent and, for the first time, a woman he could learn to love!

He knew that this little Nicola was the love of his life!

He covered her and nestled down under the covers with her. In the glow of the candle he observed her beautiful profile.

She placed her hand on his chest. “Won’t you be kind?” she asked. “I am an honourable girl! Be careful!”

If he interpreted her words correctly, she was not exactly unwilling. He himself was like a glowing-hot iron of desire but he knew how to conquer virgins with tenderness.

“Dearest,” he whispered. “I would never dream of insulting your purity! You are safe and secure with me. My love for you is so great that I don’t have the heart to touch you!”

It was cold under the covers and she was unable to offer him any warmth, frozen stiff as she was. He would have to warm her up.

It almost seemed as if his words had disappointed her a little. It made him smile secretly to himself. He understood that Nicola was in reality a warm-blooded woman who had been forced to be submissive by her domineering aunt. She was now more than ready for a love affair, but her cavalier was proving to be chivalrous, which was not particularly encouraging!

When Yves had decided that he knew what kind of woman she was, he played his role in style. “Oh, dearest one,” he moaned, “I think I will have to refrain from warming you.”

“How is that?”

“My courtesy prevents me from saying why.”

“But now you are awakening my curiosity! I want to know why!” She lifted her head, supporting it on one arm so that her beautiful hair fell softly about his face. Oh God, how he wished he could bury himself in it. He grew more and more excited and was practically unable to speak calmly.

“But ... dearest Miss Nicola, you do understand how I am suffering, don’t you?”

“No, really I don’t,” she answered naively.

“The nearness of your presence ... excites me so much, that I cannot keep my vow of chastity. I ...”

He turned away and pretended to be on the verge of tears.

“But my dearest friend,” she cried out, “Don’t leave the bed for my sake! It would be better if I left!”

“No, no!” he cried as he grabbed hold of her. And now he really pulled out all the stops. He gasped for breath as though overwhelmed by love and passion, and pulled her head closer to his as he trembled all over. He didn’t need to feign passion, the only thing he needed to pretend was that he was dismayed at having to violate her purity.

But little Nicola had given up resisting him. She had clearly caved in to the passion and stormy feelings a man’s presence awakened in her. Yves flattered himself by assuming that she wouldn’t have given herself so eagerly to just any man. She moaned quietly, as though she were ashamed of her feelings but just as hopelessly lost as he was. Her last remaining caution he kissed away with tender passion. He kissed her face, shoulders and breasts under the thin nightgown she was wearing. He twisted her hair and was about to drown in sensual pleasure. “Won’t you please?” she asked. “Won’t you please?” But he didn’t know whether she was asking him to stop or continue.

It was a fantastic night. Yves had never enjoyed himself more in a woman’s arms. However, he struggled to warm her poor, cold body, whereas he himself was sweaty and feverishly hot and outdid himself in passionate caresses. There was now nothing left of Nicola’s former reluctance: she let all her inhibitions run wild and gave herself fully.

Oh, it was a wonderful night indeed!

Exhausted, they finally fell asleep without thinking about the fact that they had to leave by daybreak, before the cock crew.

Yves felt he was floating on a cloud as he fell deeper and deeper into a pure, righteous slumber.

He woke up to a strange odour in the room.

The light from the grey dawn shone through the uneven window glass and sparsely lit the wall on the opposite side. Nicola was still sleeping, buried beneath the covers.

Dear me! he thought. We were supposed to leave! We have to hurry!

But there was some strange element in the room, something that had awakened him.

It was a dragging, almost soundless noise.

It was coming from the wall covered by the tapestry.

Yves was tingling from an unknown fear, an urge to leave.

He mustn’t wake Nicola before he knew what was going on around him. He didn’t want to frighten her for no reason.

As he carefully sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed he became aware of another more painful condition. He was still ... capable of making love. Though he had noticed during the course of the night that his manhood was apparently inexhaustible, he had nevertheless expected his exhaustion to dampen his excited state. But that had not happened.

However, what happened over by the tapestry was much worse.

The room was too dark for him to make out the details, but there was something there ...

Uneasily he recalled how easy it had been to lift the tapestry away from the wall. And the door behind it ... perhaps it could still be opened from the other side?

The anger of a jealous woman was more dangerous than anything else, he knew that from experience. Yves had been considered a catch in France and many a woman had felt ignored or rejected by him.

For that reason he had to concentrate on protecting Nicola, which he could not do without clothes or weapons. Yves fumbled for his clothes and his sword. But before he got to them his movements froze and he stood as if he had been nailed to the floor, looking in the direction of the tapestry.

There, high up on the wall, something was moving, practically wriggling across the woven tapestry. And then it rushed with a tearing sound across the room, slapped against his face and landed on the bed.

“Nicola,” Yves whispered, frightened.

He couldn’t see what kind of an animal it was.

“Nicola!”

The girl did not wake. Desperately summoning all his courage, he tore the blankets off. He got no further before the thing was upon him, enveloping him so that he could do nothing but defend himself against the sticky and stifling attack.

But Yves was now scared out of his wits. He screamed helplessly and heart-wrenchingly, hit out in all directions and struggled to get free and get away.

For he had now seen what it was! The semi-darkness of the dawn could not conceal what was happening. “Nicola!” he screamed, completely beside himself with panic. “Nicola!”

The thing settled on his mouth, stifling all his screams. It wrapped itself around his body so that he could barely breathe. In a violent effort on his part, he grabbed hold of the animal, managed to tear it loose and tossed it away.

Yves never reached the bed. He fled without a thought for Nicola, he was concerned only with saving his own skin. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would explode as he stumbled out of the door without his clothes or his sword. He thought only of one thing: getting as far away as possible!

The gallery was still dark as he ran through it, stumbling and gasping with fear.

But at that very moment he heard a terrible hissing sound from the thing that was pursuing him. It streaked past him and reached the end of the gallery before he did. Slap! It was on his neck again!

Yves choked and screamed, tore it off of him again and gained an extra second. He slammed the door of the gallery behind him. Now he no longer knew where he was.

He dashed around blindly from room to room, along hallways and around corners, hardly able to see in the dim light coming through the small panes.

He staggered to a door and tore it open.

Too late, he remembered that the carvings he had dimly been able to make out belonged to the door through which the women had come when they bade him welcome.

He immediately tried to get out again, but the door slammed shut behind him and would not open, no matter how much he pulled at it.

Well, at least here he was safe from that horrifying thing! And there had to be a way out somewhere. Perhaps through the servants’ quarters?

His eyes started to adjust to the dark. He went on quickly, going through the next door and entering another room.

But what was lying in front of the door? A body lay there. With dead eyes staring into space. Strangled, dead, the person’s nails were bloody from having desperately scratched at the door.

He was naked, with marks on his skin that showed he had been strangled, thin weals ... But his manly pride was fully intact.

Just like Yves! Despite all the fear and the frantic escape through the castle, Yves still had a full erection. It was inconceivable; it was ...

In the dim light the facial features of the corpse became visible.

“Uncle!” Yves screamed.

Something quietly floated down towards him from the roof beam.

A few days later, Zeno, the innkeeper, was outside picking vegetables in the garden. He caught sight of the two Frenchmen’s horses, still grazing in the meadow by the lake.

Zeno heaved a deep sigh.

“Ma!” he shouted to his wife, who was standing by the window on the second floor. “Clean up the Frenchmen’s rooms! See if there are any of their things we can use and throw out the rest.”

It was to this village that Heike Lind of the Ice People came one day in the late summer of that year.