Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain
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You have said that you will have sufficient ammunition to fill the order I have placed within six months. If you can deliver at least 30%
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of that total as soon as possible, my position will be favorable not only for my current orders but for future orders, as well.
I have had word from Colonel Spalavsky, who has indicated he has not yet persuaded his regiment to purchase more than one howitzer, and so your production of the three I have ordered may be given highest priority. I would appreciate receiving regular reports on your progress of production. The field guns are the most urgently needed, even more than the machine guns, and if you must deliver one part of the order before another, the fifty field guns should be placed at the head of the list. I am certain that as word of the superiority of your products becomes more widely known, you may rest assured that you will have more orders than you now anticipate; the Balkans alone could keep you in full production for two years and more. If you have not made plans for expansion, it might be wise to begin them now.
In three days I will leave for Belgrade and Sarajevo, where I have a number of appointments with prospective clients. I do not yet know what will be ordered then, but I assume, with the Croats and the Serbs both purchasing new weapons, that the Hungarians and the Bosniaks will want to do the same. I also have plans to visit Poland in Ju ne, where I am certain to gamer more orders still, particularly if the Russians end up purchasing more than a single howitzer and half a dozen field guns.
Of late, I am being told that even those most pacific diplomats who, but a year ago, said war was as impossible as it was unthinkable, are now beginning to plan for it: your new guns could not be more providential.
I will plan to visit Berlin once again in July, when I trust we will both reap the rewards of prosperity.
Sincere regards, Tancred Sisak
PS. I would appreciate it if you could arrange for another evening with the incomparable Nadezna. I have not enjoyed myself so much in many years; I will, of course, pay you a commission for such an arrangement, and will see that she has compensation for her time.
t
PART II
Franchot Ragoczy, Count Saint-Germain
JL ext of a report from Sidney Reilly in Berlin, sent in Key 21 code, to “C” in London, delivered by courier May 14, 1910.
I wish I could say that everyone in Germany is shocked and saddened to hear of King Edwards death, but that would not accurately state the case. For all his expressions of grief it is said that the Kaiser is pleased to have his uncle gone at last. He is of the opinion that his cousin will be much easier to handle, and more willing to support German aims in the world. His Ministers have been inclined to the same opinion; the Chancellor is absolutely certain that George will be willing to endorse German goals: he has been heard to say that the House of Hanover is more German than English, for all the efforts Victoria made to be English, and has more in common with Hohenzollem, or Hapsburg, for that matter, than with Stewart and Tudor. It is a tactless remark, but von Bethmann-Hollweg has never been noted for his tact. Wilhelm has said he will show respect for his uncle by mourning him, but will not be too disappointed if George V should be more reasonable than Edward VII. When the Kaiser says reasonable, he, of course, means in accord with him.
From what I have been able to determine, it is unlikely that Ragoczys mission was successful—assuming it was to establish a private agreement between England, Germany, and Russia about some sort of limit on the development and/or the proliferation of arms. Never has that been more wholly abjured than by the munitions-makers of Germany. Krupp is working constantly to improve their products, and Krupp is
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not the most aggressive of the lot. I have learned through two of my associates that several of the Balkan groups are purchasing German arms through the agency of Tancred Sisak. Baron von Wolgast, who has had men watching Ragoczy and who has been at pains to discredit the Count, has of late received a large order for his new weapons. He has an improved firing mechanism, which is faster than anything being manufactured elsewhere in Europe. He has also produced an armored motor car which serves as a mobile platform for his newest machine gun. I assure you that this information is accurate, and taken from firsthand observation and not from rumors or boasts of those employed by von Wolgast. I would think that Ragoczys inability to bring about the agreement it is supposed that Nicholas wants can only increase business for von Wolgast, who stands to profit from the tinderbox climate of the Balkans. With Sisak managing the sales, it is extremely likely that von Wolgast artillery and guns will end up in the hands of Karageorgevics and Obrenovics alike, and all the rest of the Balkan factions who can afford Sisaks prices.
With Ragoczy recalled to Russia, should I consider my assignment here ended, or do you want me to turn my attention to the matter of covert sales of arms ? The operatives I have here might be able to continue without me, if you decide I should not remain. I have business in Saint Petersburg I can reasonably use to explain my departure from Berlin, or I can remain here, and monitor von Wolgast and Sisak, who seem intent on doing the briskest business. You may also want to have regular reports on the state of German ambitions, which I must tell you, I doubt your diplomats here are fully able to grasp; they are so used to thinking of the Kaiser as the Kings relative and not the leader of an autocratic government. I would appreciate a response from you as soon as it is possible for you to set aside the demands of King Edwards obsequies and the coronation of George V. The attractions of Germany are not sufficient to hold me here on their own strength; I have too many memories that haunt me when I am in this country. If 1 have no word from you by the end of this month, I will make arrangements to return to Russia.
In answer to your question concerning the coming of war, in spite of the current wisdom, I am not absolutely certain that active conflict may be contained in the Balkans, not this time. The history of all Europe is writ in blood, and this time is no exception. The argument that it has been possible in the past to limit the fighting to the Croatian, Bosnian, and Serbian territories strikes me as irrationally optimistic in present circumstances, for any fighting in that region, given the exist-
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ing treaties, would surely drag Austro-Hungary into the conflict, and once that happens, others will be compelled to enter the fray. I view with the most grave alarm the reckless manner in which Germany is pressing the issues of Austro-Hungarian suzerainty, as if encouraging Franz Josef to become more expansionists; most certainly Franz Ferdinand supports such actions, and as Franz Josef s heir, he has influence. I am convinced that Franz Ferdinand wants to make the Hapsburg presence in the Balkans a more immediate one than it is already.
One other thing: on my own initiative I have notified my operatives in Saint Petersburg to continue the surveillance ofRagoczy, and his man of business there, Piotr Golovin. If there is anything in their reports to me that merit your attention, I will supply you with the material they provide me. You will not have to guess at what the Count is doing: I will tell you.
Sidney Reilly (Capt.)
There was a large stone island in the middle of the lake, vaguely equine in shape, with a few spindly and stunted trees clinging to the granite. Pale Finnish spring sunlight glinted off the water, dappling the island with its reflected fretwork shine.
“That’s Joukahainen’s Horse, according to the local legends,” said Countess Amalija to Franchot Ragoczy as they strolled along the rocky shore. They spoke a mixture of Russian and French, both of them expert in the two languages. Her hand rested in the bend of his elbow, her touch easy and companionable; she kept away from the waters edge. “In the story, the same thing nearly happened to Joukahainen himself.”
“Local legends, you say?” Ragoczy asked gently. “What had the unfortunate fellow done to deserve such a fate?”
“He took on a powerful magician named Vainamoinen, and very nearly lost the contest,
” said the Countess as the cool breeze ruffled her greying hair, making tendrils around her face, and teasing a few strands loose from the braided coronet. “He would have done had Joukahainen not had a pretty sister.”
“Ah,” said Ragoczy with a knowing nod. “Of course. They struck a bargain, the sister being the deciding factor; a fairly traditional arrangement. That still doesn’t explain the horse.”
“Vainamoinen restored Joukahainen to full life, but left his horse stone, to remind Joukahainen of what nearly happened. You may think of it as a kind of object lesson.” She laughed, the sound far more youthful than her face was. “Nilo explained it all to me during the interminable winter: Finns sing their magic, or so I was told. They certainly sing their traditional poetry, if you call two-note chanting singing. Vainamoinen was the stronger singer, with more knowledge in his songs.”
“Music and knowledge instead of thunderbolts and mayhem; how very . . . sensible.” Ragoczy halted, not to look at the stone in the lake, but to face Amalija, his dark eyes on hers. “And is this the only lake in Finland with Joukahainen s stone horse standing in the middle of it?”
“Probably not,” she allowed, her smile growing wider. “Only consider
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the number of lakes in the country—there must be other places making the same claim.”
“Still,” he said as they resumed walking, “it is a charming story.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said, looking up at the sky, determining the time of day from the angle of the sun. “Leonid and Irina should be here shortly They are bringing their children. I think you will like them; I cannot say how they will feel about you. Leonid can be a stickler at times.”
“I will be prepared,” Ragoczy promised her.
She plucked his sleeve. “You’ve had experience, dealing with such men, haven’t you?” She did not let him answer. “No, you don’t need to tell me. In four millennia, you must have.”
“It would be ungallant of me to contradict you,” he said fondly. “And untrue, as well. I have dealt with far worse than sticklers.”
“You must tell me, sometime. Not the very worst, of course, but the most . . . colorful.” She sighed with contentment. “I could not live as you have, for so long, and in such peril. Losing my husband and children to war and fever has been all I can endure.” She patted his hand. “You need not worry about me. I have arranged for full embalming. My nephew is troubled that I insist upon it.”
He indicated the path through the pines leading back to Countess Amalija’s dasha. “And since you mention your nephew and his family ... If you expect them soon, shouldn’t we—”
“Shortly. I want to spend a little more time alone with you while I still can. I know what it will be like later. Once my nephew and his family arrive, there will be fewer opportunities: their children are delightful but they are also generally underfoot. Do not fret. Nilo will take care of settling them into their rooms; I will leave the fuss to him. Leonid and Irina have been here often enough in the past that I need not trouble myself with formalities. Thank goodness; I am at an age when formalities have lost their significance, at least with relatives.” They walked a short way in silence; then Amalija said, “My nephew knows you are my lover. I don’t... anticipate he will be difficult about it, but he might.” “I have dealt with such problems in the past,” he said kindly. “I will not take offense at anything he wishes to say against me. But I will protest if he speaks against you.”
Her laughter now held a touch of cynicism, the legacy of her long years at Court. “He will not do that, since he will not want to endanger his inheritance. I have named him and his children in my Will, and he is aware of it. I am certain he will not want to make an issue over my . . . pleasures. If you had no fortune, it might be otherwise, but under
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the circumstances ...” She gestured her fatalistic acceptance.
Ragoczy did not speak at once. “He would not be so tolerant if he knew my true nature.”
“Oh, my dear, dear Count,” Countess Amalija said, shaking her head, mirth bubbling in her voice. “My nephew is a thoroughly modem man, who knows that vampires are the stuff of legends—like Joukahainens Horse, out there in the lake. He would never believe that one could exist, and definitely not as his aunts lover. He may wonder about your intentions, but I will take care of any impertinences on his part.” She studied the swath of pebbled shore ahead of them. “Leonid is aware that you have been sent here by the Czar. He may have questions.” “Which I will be unable to answer; Nikolai has told me I am not to disclose anything about my mission, and I gave him my word I would not,” said Ragoczy, his determination more in the clipped delivery than his actual tone. “I will not make an exception for Leonid because he is your nephew: I have an obligation to Nikolai and I will maintain it.” He had learned, more than thirty centuries ago, that one in as precarious a position as he often was had to keep his word or lose what little protection integrity granted him. “I hope it will not be necessary for me to be rude with your nephew, but if I must, I will be.”
“Yes,” she said. “I will inform him that you are not at liberty to discuss your commission from Nikolai, or the Czars reasons for wanting you to absent yourself from Saint Petersburg.”
“Not that I know what they are,” said Ragoczy slowly, although he had a fairly good guess: Nikolai did not want his Ministers or Generals to pry information out of Ragoczy. By sending the Count on an enforced holiday, the Czar was making certain the men around him did not have an opportunity to discover Ragoczy s purpose for visiting London and Berlin.
“Leonid is not a complete idiot,” said his aunt with great affection. “Give me a moment with him and I will ensure he will not pester you.” A sudden flutter of wings across the lake caught her attention. She pointed to the small, plump partridges with grey breasts and barred wings. “Leonid will have something to hunt; that will please him. I was afraid we would have to play cards all the time.”
“And if he bags a few of the birds, it will make for an extra dish at dinner,” Ragoczy added.
“Not that you will notice,” Amalija teased him. “Although that ghoul manservant of yours might enjoy a fresh fowl.”
Ragoczy took up her bantering tone. “I will tell him you said so. No doubt he will welcome the change from venison and pork. And you are
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right—we will not have as much time to ourselves.” He stopped again, and this time kissed her; it was a long, slow, languorous kiss, enticing without urgency, stimulating and tranquil at once.
When she could speak again, she said, “I do not know what to make of you, Count.” Her smile was light, but tinged with a deeper sense of disquiet.
“Where is the mystery, then?” he asked, his arms still around her, his handsome, irregular features relaxed.
Her answer was more serious than her question had been. “I don’t know why you should bother with me, or any of us, for that matter.” Her wide brow puckered as she frowned. “You don’t have to, do you?”
“You mean it is not necessary to have such intimacy for survival? As a vampire, all I need is blood?” he asked, touching her face gently, his face shadowed by melancholy. “That, my dearest, is a question of definition more than necessity. It is true I do not need this nearness to remain . . . alive; but if life is to be more than mere sustaining of. . . life, then—” He kissed her again, deeply and tenderly.
Her Asiatic eyes filled with tears. “Then you must often be lonely. That is what I could not bear.”
He nodded. “Occasionally ferociously,” he admitted. “That is why I treasure those few of you who are willing to know me for what I am, and to accept my nature. There are not many of you in the world; now or ever.” His dark eyes were distant, as if caught in his memories. “Of those rare few, fewer still are willing to become one of my blood: in all the time I have been . . . alive, only nine have been capabl
e of living as those of my blood must live. Fourteen have come to my life, but five of them”—his voice dropped as those five came vividly into his mind: Aenath, Nicoris, Padmiri, Heugenet, and Demetrice—“chose the true death for themselves rather than live as we must live. Of the nine, only two are alive now. The rest. . . have died the true death by misadventure or . . . deliberate slaughter.”
“Do you miss them? those two?” Amalija asked, so simply that Ragoczy realized he could give her a direct answer.
“One, yes; very much.” As he said this, the image of Madelaine de Montalia as he had last seen her almost twenty years ago, filled his mind, with a longing as intense as it was futile. “The other, hardly at all.” Decades would go by without any thought of Csimenae; she had made herself remote from him thirteen hundred years ago, when his warning had proved all too accurate, and continued her self-imposed isolation—as far as he knew—to this day, eking out a penitential existence high in the Pyrenees. He achieved an ironic smile. “All those who died
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the true death I miss now and will miss until, I, too, join them. The bond of blood holds me, and will hold me all my ... life long. You see, Amal-ija, they are all a part of me, because they knew me.”
“The blood does that,” she said, repeating what he had told her when he first became her lover, four years earlier.
“The blood and the knowing,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “But if there are these few other . . . vampires, why not be safe and continue with them? Why do you want someone like me?”
“Well, you see,” he answered, his eyes distant, “what vampires seek with the knowing is life; it is the one thing we cannot give one another.”