Читать книгу The Ice People 20 - Wings of the Raven - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Yves was woken at daybreak by the worst pain he had ever suffered. And right here, in this village in the middle of nowhere! There probably wasn’t a single soul with medical expertise for miles around. And if there were, they would probably know more about witchcraft than anything else.

Yves could do without that sort of advice.

The pain grew so bad that he had to wake his uncle. All morning his uncle was kept busy bringing warm blankets for Yves or running downstairs to empty the wooden pail that stood next to his bed.

The uncle wasn’t too pleased with that job. But he was also worried. The thought of losing his travelling companion was unbearable to him. So they both gave a sigh of relief when the pain subsided around noon.

Yves fell back on his pillows, exhausted. His lips were grey and his voice weak.

“I’m feeling better now, uncle. But I don’t think I have the energy to go with you to visit the two ladies.”

“No, of course not, I understand. Would you rather I stayed here with you?”

“There’s no need. But as soon as we get to a town I will have to consult a doctor. It’s a shame ... I would so much like to have done something for that stifled little creature, Nicola. Perhaps you could try to find out what the story is? And if you think the girl is being harmed, try to help her get out of this village!”

The baron made an impatient face. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “But I never found out where they live. Well, I suppose it’s just a matter of following the road – eventually I’m bound to reach a house or another village.”

“Will you greet them for me and give them my apologies?”

“Of course. Now try to get some sleep.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Yves was right. He fell asleep almost immediately after the baron left the room.

It was dark when Yves woke again.

That is to say, it wasn’t entirely dark. The sky had started to grow light in the east: the sun was about to rise.

I have slept for almost twenty-four hours, Yves thought, alarmed. What will my uncle say about that? He must be furious with me!

But the baron was not in his bed and it did not look as though it had been slept in at any time during the night. His uncle’s everyday waistcoat and sword were still lying where he had placed them before he left.

Outside, Yves could hear the staff of the inn getting ready for a new day. He quickly got dressed and found, with relief, that the pain in his side was now just a dull throb. He rushed down to the taproom.

The innkeeper’s wife was there, busily cleaning.

Damn, if only he knew their language! Or they could speak French!

Some girls were busy in the kitchen, carrying the laundry out. An old man was unloading vegetables.

Once again, Yves was struck by how many women there were and how few men. And what men there were were either extremely old or small boys or downright hideous.

Had it not been for a few comparatively young but ugly men he had seen in the square on the day they arrived, Yves would have thought that the country had recently been at war and lost all the men in the prime of life.

He falteringly asked the innkeeper’s wife whether she had seen his companion.

“My uncle! The baron!”

He pointed to his side to indicate his companion.

The innkeeper’s wife merely shook her head and continued sweeping the floor.

The host came in from the kitchen and asked by gestures whether Yves wanted something to eat.

Yves said no, but that he wanted to know where the baron was.

“Aha,” the innkeeper said as his face lit up, whereupon he gave a long explanation in his incomprehensible native tongue. Still, Yves was able to catch a word here and there, for Romanian and French are both Romance languages and have some words in common.

The man pointed in the direction of the big cliff face. I see, thought Yves, and thanked him. They had seen the uncle ride in that direction but they hadn’t seen whether he had returned.

But that had been the day before yesterday! Had the baron really been gone for half a day and a whole night without getting word to the ailing Yves?

The innkeeper disappeared again – suspiciously quickly, now that Yves thought about it. He was troubled by all of this. Was this place nothing but a confounded nest of robbers, where they attacked their guests, plundering their fortunes? Had they been robbed ...?

No, Yves was the one who had been looking after their travelling funds in their room. He hurried upstairs to see if their money was still there.

Nothing had been touched.

Weak, but still strong enough to venture outside, Yves made it clear to the people of the inn that he intended to ride out in search of his uncle. They merely nodded, barely looking up from their chores. Only one young girl gave him a glance that might have been interpreted as a silent prayer. A prayer ... or a warning?

Yves did not want to eat now. If he got hungry, he would probably be offered a meal at the princess’s home. Judging by the gloomy yet substantial carriage in which she had been riding, she was comfortably off.

The sun had risen now and the rays fell at a slant across the little square. Seen in daylight the village actually looked quite attractive. It was built in a very old-fashioned style, but that was not unusual for the villages here in Siebenbürgen, tucked away up in the mountains. Siebenbürgen, Transylvania, Ardeal – Mon Dieu, how confusing these names were!

Mist was rising from the hills when he rose out of the far side of the village. There was a similar vapour rising from the Forest of Hell, as he called it. The morning fog was clearing.

A stifling new day awaited.

He could not believe he had slept for almost twenty-four hours! That had never happened before; it must mean that his illness had entered a serious phase. He would have to find a doctor.

The winding road rose to the foot of the cliff. In the bottom of the valley a small river flowed slowly. He had now put the village behind him.

It was pleasant here, but a little too confined and with too much forest for Yves. He longed for his French hometown, which was now occupied by the common people. The same was probably true of their estate.

No, he didn’t want to think about the revolution, it pained him too much. They were going to start a new life, in Cluj or Sibiu, far away from those who were pursuing French noblemen.

The road rounded a sharp bend, revealing a small meadow. And wasn’t that his uncle’s horse he could see grazing there? It was wonderful to finally see some sign of life.

The horse caught sight of Yves on his horse and neighed happily as it trotted up to them. Yves patted it and greeted it. It followed them farther along the path. Then the road made another sharp turn and, surprised, Yves halted his horse.

There it was – the castle! Castle Stregesti: that must be what it was called. It was more of a fortress than a castle; the architectural style was old and formal, though not as lavishly unrestrained with towers and waving pennants as other castles tended to be.

When he had first caught sight of the castle from the corner of his eye, it had seemed like a giant ruin that towered high above him at the edge of a tall cliff. But that had only been his first impression. When he lifted his eyes and looked at the place properly it became evident that the castle was quite habitable. Even though it was old and built from rough-hewn stone blocks, it was well maintained. There was a great portal at the end of the road and the many small windows in the walls made it look welcoming. The last part of the drive up to the gate consisted of an avenue of beautiful trees.

As Yves rode up the avenue he realized that the view from the castle must be unsurpassed. Directly below him in the little valley was a small lake, and he could glimpse remnants of a settlement around it. Perhaps the whole village had once been moved, or perhaps it had been much larger than it was now ... he would have to ask the ladies about that.

Thank goodness the princess could speak French! He hoped that the young Nicola also spoke it. It would make things so much easier. But, of course, the language of love didn’t need words ...

He had thought about Nicola a great deal and about what he could do for her. But the first thing he needed to do was remove her from the beautiful but domineering princess.

The gate was made of oak, heavy, massive and dark. He dismounted and left his horse to graze with his uncle’s horse before knocking on the door.

The knocks made a hollow echoing sound within the walls. But almost immediately, the bony coachman came to admit him. He didn’t say anything, just bowed before Yves.

What do you say to someone who doesn’t understand a civilized language?

“My uncle? Is he here? And may I pay the ladies a visit?”

Yves wasn’t certain that the coachman had understood him, but he clearly ushered him inside with a sweeping gesture of his scrawny hand. Yves thanked him reservedly and entered a small courtyard surrounded by buildings.

Beautiful oriel windows with leaded glass panes broke up the thick walls here and there He also noticed a small balcony. The castle seemed to consist of two storeys and closest to the gate there was clearly a barn, the kitchen and the servants’ quarters. The coachmen showed Yves in through a door that seemed to lead to the finer part of the castle.

He entered a dark hall and at first couldn’t see anything at all. But the coachman walked ahead of him and opened the door to something that looked like a banqueting hall. Yves couldn’t help comparing it with his comfortable old home in France and concluded that things must be a little backward here.

And he was in a barbaric country, he mustn’t forget that!

The princess entered and greeted him. She was beaming with joy. “Well. Monsieur Yves! You seem to be feeling better. Your uncle said that you were ill.”

“That is true, your Highness,” Yves answered as he kissed her hand. “And how are you?”

“Splendid, thank you.”

“My uncle ... Is he still here?” Yves asked politely.

Princess Feodora let out a shrill laugh. “Ah, your uncle is certainly a morning man! You must excuse him and us, Mr Yves, but we sat talking for so long last night that at last there was no point in him returning to the inn. You know, it has been a fantastic experience for Nicola and myself to encounter such a cultured person as your uncle. We are simply starving when it comes to cultured guests! When morning came your uncle was full of energy and wanted to go out and take a look at our abundant hunting grounds by the lake. Oh don’t worry, it is completely safe, there are no wild animals in the valley. He plans to be back here in about an hour, and had you not arrived by that time he would of course have gone back to the inn to tend to you. But he wasn’t all that worried about you. You were feeling much better when he left you, is that not true?”

“Yes. Do you mean to say that you were actually expecting me at this time?”

“Yes, we were. Nicola!”

She shouted in the direction of the room from which she had come. The shy girl immediately came out and curtsied to Yves, who took her hand and kissed it. He noticed that it was shaking.

“Perhaps you would entertain Mr Yves while I send word that we will be one more for lunch.”

“Yes, of course,” the young girl whispered.

She was even lovelier than he remembered. She offered him a seat on the velvet-covered bench by the window, where the curtains were closed.

After a short pause Yves asked, “Do you speak French?”

She nodded and cast a terrified glance towards her aunt – if that was her relationship to the princess.

Yves observed her covertly. It was clear to see that the girl was in great distress, because she was constantly biting her nails, which had already been bitten down. She must be around twenty. He wondered why she was so afraid of the princess.

Nicola was very attractive. Her front teeth protruded slightly, but only just enough to give her the most adorable pout. Her eyes were big and dark brown, and her hair, which was parted in the middle, was shining black and probably very long. Today it had been braided and rolled up in a bun on the back of her head. Exactly like the princess’s hair.

Other than that they seemed very different. Princess Feodora was self-confident whereas little Nicola was insecure and frightened. Yves felt like pulling her to him and assuring her that he would protect her in the future.

He had never met a girl who roused his feelings of affection to such a degree.

“Well, it’s very elegant here,” he said.

She gave him a beaming smile, a smile that he felt he could have died for. For an instant he had the feeling that this was the reason the princess was so strict with Nicola: because she considered the girl to be her rival. Just like Snow White and the evil queen?

But one didn’t have the right to draw such conclusions about someone one had known for only a few minutes! Yves was ashamed of himself.

They were sitting in a heavily furnished room. The candles in the silver chandelier compensated for the darkness in the room created by the drawn curtains. The walls were of dark panelling covered by rustic hangings. The furniture was old and provincial, as was to be expected in remote Siebenbürgen. The benches and tables were made from massive timbers, and large hides covered the floor. The floorboards were so wide that Yves could only guess the size of the trees they had been cut from. He wondered about the chilly air. But that was probably just how it was in a castle built of stone. It felt as though dampness was oozing from the stones behind the tapestries and wood. Living here for a long time couldn’t be healthy.

He was once again overwhelmed by an urge to take the girl away with him ... he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her beautiful neck was accentuated because she wore her hair up: a long, arched, elegant neck with skin so smooth that all he wanted to do was caress it, feel it under his fingers. It was an exceptionally sensual neck despite the fact that it belonged to such an innocent creature.

Nicola was dressed in a fashion far from what he had been familiar with in France. He assumed her dress was typical of the upper class of this country, with its dignified, old-fashioned style. A petticoat of thick golden silk and then a sleeveless ... was it a kaftan? a sarafan? ... a kind of pinafore that hung straight down to the feet? He was confusing the terms, but it didn’t matter. The dress couldn’t conceal the fact that Nicola had a very beautiful figure. Provocative and at the same time innocent.

“Miss Nicola,” he began eagerly, stammering. “Have you seen much of the world?”

“None at all! Only this valley.”

“Oh,” Yves whispered, “I would very much like to show you all the beautiful things there are to see ...”

She bent forward, her eyes burning with longing. “Then take me with you! Don’t leave this place without me! Won’t you, please? It is like a prison here, I ...”

She peered around with a terrified look on her face, as though the dismal walls had ears. Then she whispered, “My aunt ... Well, she isn’t my real aunt, she is a distant relative, but that is what I call her – she is my guardian. I’m not allowed to do anything! I must get away from here!”

An unfamiliar unease sent a shiver down his spine. There was something about the panic in the girl’s voice and the look in her eyes that made him sense fear. Nevertheless, he said, “Your aunt seems so friendly.”

“She is dangerous,” Nicola whispered. “She can ...”

“Yes?” Yves prompted when she paused.

“No, it isn’t proper to talk about it.”

“Does she by any chance perform magic?” he asked with a small smile.

“Shhh!” she whispered, putting her fingers to her lips as she looked around in desperation.

“I promise to keep quiet. But you cannot stay here ...”

“No, now that I’ve met you I refuse to stay another day! We must ...”

She stopped abruptly as Princess Feodora re-entered the room. Yves stood up immediately.

“Lunch is ready in the dining room,” the princess said to the two young people. “Or whatever you want to call it this late in the day.”

“What about my uncle?” Yves asked.

The princess lifted her hand. “Don’t worry about him. It’s easy to become completely absorbed in the beautiful landscape of these parts. We’ve even had guests who have wandered about for two days at a time simply because they were unable to tear themselves away from the gorgeous forest.”

Gorgeous? thought Yves, and shuddered at the memory of the forest he and his uncle had passed through. It had given them the impression of death and destruction, and exactly the same kind of forest grew around the castle. In fact the strange, overgrown forest, with its drooping branches, surrounded the entire valley, and practically concealed it! Yves did not care for this forest in the least and could not imagine his uncle suddenly taking a liking to it.

Yves followed the ladies into the dining room. He was worried about the baron. He would have preferred to go out and look for him at once. But his uncle might have gone back to the inn? The thought put Yves’ mind at ease.

The princess turned towards him and, biased as he now was by Nicola’s words, he was convinced when he looked at her that her black eyes contained all sorts of secrets. But that was completely unfair, he thought. One shouldn’t judge people in advance!

In a gentle yet authoritative voice, she said, “I have given orders to the servants to lay out the food and then to withdraw. We must not be disturbed now that we have such a cultured visitor.”

Yves mumbled that she was much too kind, though he agreed with her completely. He and his uncle were indeed extremely cultured, at least compared with the inhabitants of this barbaric part of Europe.

He gazed at Princess Feodora’s hair and its incredible black shine. It made him think of the flashing black wings of the ravens that had flown past him and his uncle when they first arrived in the valley. The princess was dressed like Nicola, just as temptingly dark and mysterious, but in different colours.

She was a practitioner of witchcraft, Nicola had said. Or rather, he himself had said that.

It didn’t surprise him. Princess Feodora seemed capable of anything.

The table was beautifully set with vegetables, meat and fish from the valley. But Yves felt there was something not quite right about it all. Perhaps it was his concern for his uncle that prevented him from enjoying the lavish meal before him.

And that he was constantly thinking about Nicola and how he was going to get her out of the castle.

It was obvious that the princess must not know anything about it. She did indeed seem dangerous, as Nicola had pointed out. Her flashing black eyes, her voice that was now gentle and cooing, now hard as steel, and the unpleasant sharpness of her gaze whenever she looked at Nicola. It almost seemed that it was filled with hate!

It gradually became clear to Yves that Feodora was making a pass at him. Perhaps her hateful glances towards Nicola were due to the fact that both women were competing for his attentions?

But Nicola was not competing for him. She didn’t have to. He was already as fascinated by her as he could be. It just wasn’t in her nature to offer herself to a man.

Princess Feodora, on the other hand, had absolutely no scruples of that kind. Her only disadvantage was her age. Yves was some years younger than her, but had the circumstances been different he would have thought nothing of flirting a little with her. She was a dazzlingly beautiful woman with a strong sex appeal.

But he had already made his decision. Nicola or no one!

For that reason it became very awkward for him when the older woman placed her hand on his arm and gave him knowing glances and clear invitations. At the same time he was extremely proud of all the female adoration he was receiving, for, to tell the truth, Yves was not a little conceited.

Perhaps he could take them both on? Since the princess was so attractive ...

No, no, what was he thinking? It was Nicola he wanted and he was quite certain that his uncle had his eye on the older woman.

Where was his uncle, by the way?

Yves asked about the remains of the village he had seen by the lake below the castle.

The princess explained to him that it was as he had suspected. The valley had once been the centre of the region and the prince had resided in the castle. But there had been an unfortunate occurrence in the valley ...

“The plague?” Yves asked.

“Well, in a way,” the princess answered vaguely. The village was wiped out, she explained, and the few survivors moved to the area where the inn was now situated. She and Nicola were the last descendants of the prince and they had no intention of leaving Stregesti.

“It must be a long time since the village was abandoned,” Yves noted. “I noticed that the forest reaches all the way to the houses now and the ivy winds about the ruins.”

“Yes, that happened a long time ago,” Feodora answered gently.

Yves did not say aloud what he was thinking: that the forest was also creeping into the castle and had almost reached the gate, posing like a secret enemy ready to strangle the building.

From a distance the castle must look frightening, Yves thought. With its clumsy, square tower and its embrasures and battlements it protruded through the forest that seemed to have a life of its own. However, inside it was beautiful. Gloomy and heavy, but beautiful in its own way.

After the meal the ladies showed him around the castle. They entered a room lit by a chandelier. Yves felt paralysed by the forceful magnetism of the two ladies. The princess was explicitly erotic, whereas Nicola was more submissively sensual.

“So I take it that it isn’t possible to get to Sibiu by going in that direction?” Yves asked, pointing eastwards along the valley. At least that was the direction he assumed the valley was, there were no windows from which he could look out. “We have to go back to the inn and return the way we came, is that not true?”

Princess Feodora directed her suggestive gaze at him. He grew oddly faint when he looked into her eyes.

“No, no, you can go in that direction. There is an old, overgrown path. Your uncle asked the very same thing. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has been trying to find that path himself, and that is what is delaying him.”

“But that could be dangerous!”

“Not at all! You yourself saw our sheep down in the valley, didn’t you? How they were grazing safely and securely. Trust me, had there been predators in the area, they would have turned back to the castle immediately.”

Yves was silent but his own thought shocked him. It wasn’t predators that he feared.

It was the forest.

They went on through the many beautiful rooms in the castle as the princess talked and explained. Yves heard the entire history of the castle.

But he noticed that although she gladly showed him everything in the castle that was of historical interest, and there was much, there was one room that they never entered, despite the fact that they passed its dark, carved door several times. It was the room from which the princess and Nicola had emerged when they came to bid Yves welcome. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there were most likely other rooms behind it. But they were probably the ladies’ bedrooms, so he quite understood that it wouldn’t be suitable to show those private chambers to a gentleman.

Apart from that he was given plenty of information about the castle and the complicated history of the country. Stregesti had once been situated strategically as a defence against the advancing tribe that wanted to capture the country. The valley was now far off the beaten track and no longer significant militarily. But the Turks were not far away: they ruled Wallachia, which was only a few valleys away.

The castle contained some extraordinary treasures. Feodora showed Yves her father’s crown – he had been prince of the region – and a sword that her father had used in a battle during which he had beheaded fifteen of his enemy’s men. Yves noticed her coldness as she told the story.

But she became more emotional when she told the legend of Anciol, a young daughter of the family. She showed him her bridal gown, a magnificent specimen in brocade, tulle, gold and emeralds, though all as thin as a spider’s web from the ravages of time.

“It was never worn,” said Feodora in a sorrowful voice. “Anciol waited in vain for her groom, who betrayed her on her wedding day with someone else. She lay paralysed for a whole week. The shame of it must have been unbearable. Then she jumped off the cliffs here.”

Feodora went over to a big table. Now she was smiling.

“Do you see the marks on the table? They are from the wild Bogdan. He was one of my forefathers and he was also a prince. Once during a great ball he came riding into the ballroom on his horse. He had gathered all his enemies for a feast in atonement, but as they sat at the table full and drunk he rode along the table and mowed down as many as he could. Those who tried to escape were captured by his loyal warriors and hung head down outside in the strong sun until they died. You can still see the marks where the stakes were planted right outside the gate ...”

Yves thought that she was starting to sound rather too macabre, especially as she seemed increasingly inflamed with enthusiasm as she told the story.

Nicola said nothing; she seemed ill at ease and her eyes often sought Yves’ glance. He gave her an encouraging smile and in his smile he made a promise to her that he would liberate her from this captivity.

The scrawny coachman entered and murmured something to Feodora. Her face lit up and she turned to Yves.

“Delightful! Your uncle has just left word that he has returned to the inn and since he is extremely tired he has gone directly to bed. He sends his greetings and says that he is in good health and will await you tomorrow morning. For he assumed that you would be just as pleased talking to us as he was and that you, too, would prefer to stay long into the night.”

Yves wasn’t so sure about that. He had had enough of all the bloodthirsty stories of the castle that the princess had so kindly shared with him. But he had other reasons for wanting to stay. There might be a greater chance now of taking Nicola with him.

And it was, of course, a great relief to hear that his uncle was well!

“Your uncle said that you would be continuing your journey tomorrow morning. Well, we’re going to miss both of you, but I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do to convince you to stay!”

Yves gave her a regretful smile and stretched out his hand. “No, unfortunately we must be on our way,” he said, not without some relief in his voice. “But I must say that it has been an unexpected and extremely pleasant interruption.”

Later that afternoon he finally had an opportunity to speak with Nicola in private. Until then it had always seemed as though her aunt was strictly monitoring her. And she was so suspicious ...

The two young people spoke in fast and hectic whispers. After a brief discussion they agreed that Nicola should come to Yves’ room late in the evening and wait there until they could sneak out while everyone was sleeping.

“But we will have to be very quiet in your room,” Nicola said. “The princess sleeps right next door and could enter the room if we don’t block the door properly. She has many methods.”

That piece of information made Yves’ hair stand on end. He knew that Princess Feodora wanted him and that there was a good chance that she might try to approach him with one thing in mind ...

“Can we not wait in your room instead?” he asked.

“Oh, no!” she whispered, alarmed. “You would never be able to get to my room without being seen. Don’t worry, I’ll come to your room!”

That means we’ll have a whole night together in my room, Yves thought eagerly. I won’t let an opportunity like that go to waste!

The dusk fell gently and mysteriously across the valley. Poor Yves looked forward to the evening in all ignorance. He had no idea what spending a night at Stregesti entailed ...