The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  Because even then, terrified as I was of this tiny thing, somehow I knew that my mother couldn't have died swearing revenge against me. Even I couldn't have summoned up such hatred against my child if he really had forced Leta to cut me open. Even I couldn't have… I soon thought of Gaar, and the war he was fighting, and I missed him then. I wanted him to see that I was still alive, and that he was now the father that I knew he longed to be. Tears threatened to cloud my eyes, but I fought them off, for I didn't wish my friend to see how sad I was.

  In spite of Leta's generous words, I tried to work with Ran by myself for some time before I finally had to break down and admit that it was a hopeless cause. I visited Leta and her family, and especially her mother, and admitted to her that I needed help—a lot of it. Fortunately Leta was correct about her mother, and the woman gave me all the advice she could think of, and then some. And for once, I was willing to learn something, listened to everything she said. She showed me how to clean, bathe, clothe, and feed him (or that is, the most comfortable way for me to feed him!), and gave other advice as how to keep Ran happy.

  Three months later the word came back that Castrill had won the war and was now looting Westmont, apparently to end its threat once and for all. I had taken part in raids and pillages before, but I rarely enjoyed them, much preferring to destroy soldiers over unarmed civilians. Word also returned that Tetulius had perished in the combat, but no information was available on Taran's life, or most important, on Gaar's.

  The men returned some three days after their victory was made known, and rarely have I seen So much rejoicing as on that day in Castrill. It resembled the day of the men's departure, only this time the tears were shed in joy and relief. Except for the tears for those who did not return. As in all wars, along with the triumph of Castrill was the inevitable grief and sense of loss for the brave ones who died defending the land.

  I searched for Gaar the day they returned, but could not find him among the throngs of soldiers and their rejoicing families. I carried Ran with me in a pouch that I wore in the front, and the awful noise and confusion distressed him and he screamed and bawled incessantly. His distress only echoed my own as I tried to search for my husband and to comfort the boy—both efforts in vain.

  I gave up after several hours, and trod solemnly home, hoping that I might see him waiting for me there and I could show him my joy in private, as it was meant to be.

  I searched both rooms of our hovel thoroughly, but he was not there. Ran, meanwhile, had wet himself and was crying, and I silently removed him from the pouch and cleaned him (and myself), hoping to lose my thoughts in this activity. The sun was setting when I finished, but I didn't bother to light any candles or lanterns, preferring to hold my son close to me and to try to soothe my own tears by soothing his.

  It was time for both of us to eat, but I cared for neither food nor drink. Ran would not be deprived, however, and I took him to my breasts until he became limp in my arms, and I carried him into the darkness of the bedroom and placed him into the cradle. After covering him with his blankets, I lay on the bedding next to him and wished for sleep to come soon.

  I grabbed my pillow and swung behind me at the one who was nudging me. I was in no mood for games, and I wanted to be left alone in my tears of bitterness. But the pillow was snatched from my hands, and I rolled over to confront my tormentor. It was morning, and the sun shone behind him, making him little more than a silhouette. But it was a familiar silhouette.

  "Gaar!" I screamed, and sat up, throwing my arms around him and kissing him and holding him tight. "You've come home! You've come back…"

  "Yes," he whispered. "It's over."

  "I thought you were dead—"

  "It was close some times—"

  "I looked for you—"

  "I tried to get to you, but I couldn't—"

  "I waited here for you—"

  "I missed you, my love. My wife…"

  "I wanted to go with you. Fight with you—"

  "I know. I know that, but it wasn't possible—"

  "Oh, gods, you've come back… you've come back…"

  Slowly he pushed me from him, and neither of us could hold back our tears for long. We laughed and wept together. Soon afterward I took Ran from his cradle and handed him to his father, who at first held him awkwardly until I corrected him. Gaar nodded his head and smiled.

  "A son," he whispered. "You've given me a son."

  "Leta said that—that you'd be happy about having a son."

  "Yes," he said. "But son—daughter—it matters little. What's important is that you've made me a father."

  "That's all you wanted?" I asked.

  "Yes," he whispered. "Or—no. I wanted a family; that's what I wanted most." I sensed some sadness in his words, and I meant to ask him about his family in Actium, but he leaned over and kissed my lips gently, and handed me the child. Then he scooted closer to the two of us and brushed my hair with his fingers.

  The rest of the day was spent just being a family for the first time. It was one of the best days of my life.

  The next day the magistrate produced Tetulius's will, after all the proper funeral ceremonies had been performed. Over a thousand citizens crowded around the platform near the marketplace, hoping to hear of the city's newfound wealth. Taran, who had returned alive, was given a small portion of Tetulius's wealth in recognition of his friendship and devotion. The magistrate continued reading the will, and the people waited for some statement indicating that the rest of the estate would be open to them. But it was not to be. According to the will, the beneficiary of all the rest of the estate was the magistrate himself. The stunned silence that followed allowed the magistrate to continue in a lower voice as he announced his intention to ask the governor to appoint Arem as their next leader, for the current one (himself) had decided to retire and settle into his new home.

  The uproar as he left the platform was tremendous, and many cried "Fraud" and "Hoax" to the magistrate and his men. Others tried to snatch the will from his hands, only to be pushed aside by brutish bodyguards. Taran followed the magistrate determinedly through the crowd. Though I was disappointed in the general's will, I was not interested in following the crowd to the bureaucrats' building; but Gaar elected to continue on out of curiosity. I agreed to wait for him at home.

  Chapter 8

  Gaar was not home terribly often over the next few days after his return. He found the whole controversy over the will to be rather exciting, and he was spending a lot of time with Taran trying to figure out what was really going on. Gaar mentioned to me that I shouldn't talk to anyone about what he and Taran were doing, but since I didn't really understand what they were doing, anyway, I had nothing to talk about. I spent most of my time with Leta, whose parents were trying to marry her off. I think she was fifteen by this time, which was about the age when parents began the search for a suitable husband for their daughters with a vengeance. So far they hadn't found one. Leta put up a good facade about how she wasn't wise enough to choose her own husband, but I knew her too well by this time.

  Gaar came trodding home one day, his head down in what seemed to be near-despair. I guided him to a couch and rubbed his shoulders while I asked him his troubles. He said that he and Taran had exposed Tetulius's will as a fake and had spent the past few days looking for the authentic one. In it a good portion of his estate had been given to the city, not the magistrate, and they had exposed him, as well, to the Army. I thought that was wonderful news, until Gaar pointed out that some half of the Army had rebelled and stormed the magistrate's house. Gaar, Taran, and other men tried to bring things under control, but the rebels won, and killed the magistrate for treason. I saw nothing wrong with that, but then Gaar reminded me that the city was left with no leader. Well, better than a rotten one, I said, but Gaar disagreed. He'd never been a real follower of anarchy.

  This was one time when local politics had a very direct effect on me. I should have paid more attention then. But this is what ha
ppened: Gaar became the magistrate.

  We certainly were surprised. Gaar expected Taran to take the position, even though he didn't want it, but it was not to happen. Not quite, but almost behind our backs, Taran sent Gaar's name to the governor and praised Gaar to high heaven, apparently, for the recommendation returned saying "yes."

  The soldiers liked Gaar, and were quite happy with his appointment. The people's reaction was mostly "Gaar who?"; after all, we had only lived in Castrill for about a year. The people had little power to decide on their leaders, unfortunately, but at least those who did know Gaar were not displeased.

  Leta and her family were ecstatic for us, of course, and Leta offered me a blanket she had made as a congratulatory gift. I declined as graciously as I could, but she insisted I take it; Leta is not the easiest person to turn down, and I soon owned a new blanket.

  A new house, too. We moved into the magistrate's house almost immediately, and I don't think I need compare it to the hovel. Our bedroom alone was larger than the entire hovel, and there were plenty more rooms where that one came from. There were private eating rooms besides the huge banquet hall, conference rooms, servants' rooms (not to mention the servants that occupied them!), a huge kitchen, and I could go on, but I'd much rather concentrate on more important things. I must say, however, that even the humblest of today's homes are much more comfortable and cozy than the magistrate's house was, but by fourth-century standards, this was one luxurious place.

  We even had a separate room for Ran. I rarely, if ever, used it, however, at least not while he was a baby. I insisted that he sleep in our room during that time. Gaar wasn't exactly thrilled about that, but he soon learned that it wasn't a good idea to argue with me as far as taking care of Ran was concerned.

  Gaar criticized me for spoiling Ran so. I always dropped everything and ran to him whenever he cried and insisted that he be near me at all times, which often caused quite an inconvenience, as one might imagine.

  But Gaar had more important things to worry about besides my spoiling his son. As magistrate, he had an entire city to worry about, and since he was new, it would take him some time to solve the basic problems and learn all the intricacies of Castrill's politics. All this work, under the shadow of the will scandal! Gaar set himself to settling everything once and for all, including all sorts of legal problems, changes in staff, and so on.

  There were also a few other problems that were not honed out so quickly or easily, and they for the most part came from me. For one thing, I was still dressing in my ten-year-old vest and shirt—and the sword, of course. At first when he began his magistracy, Gaar simply gave me some money to go buy some dresses. After all, now that he was magistrate, he couldn't be a warrior anymore, either—at least, not in practice. To me he would always be wearing his vest.

  I would make excuse after excuse at first for not buying any new clothes. Usually they had to do with my being too busy; I had to settle into our new home, after all. Too much to do. Gaar was clearly frustrated but didn't push me, considering that he had so many problems already. Meanwhile, I made sure to offer him a loving ear whenever he had a problem, so he couldn't complain much, could he?

  But then I started becoming one of Gaar's major problems. My attire became more than a personal issue between us. Gaar was now a public figure. He was the magistrate of a city that had just killed its previous leader and killed or banished his closest associates. Gaar had to clean up his predecessor's mess, and, because of this, criticism of anyone replacing the old leader would be especially severe. Severe for him, for his associates, and for his family. Now I was more than some strange woman who dressed like a man; I was a shadow, a blot on Gaar's reputation. I knew about the gossip, I even heard some of it directly, but I'd been hearing gossip about me for my entire life, and my reaction had always been to keep on doing whatever it was that bothered the talkers, even do more of it, just out of spite. This was part of the reason why I always hated politics, and now that I was right in the middle of them, I hated them even more.

  We were arguing about every thing. Mostly about stupid things; in fact, I don't even remember what we'd been arguing about. But then Gaar brought up the dress issue again, and especially all the gossip that not only I, but he too, was the subject of, I lied and told him the gossip didn't bother me at all, so he called me selfish and tried to explain about our responsibility to all the denizens of Castrill. And then he said that many people were saying I wasn't even a woman, which I knew about anyway, but then he also said that he was beginning to wonder that himself! Now, considering that I had wondered that for some time myself, one would think that such a comment wouldn't really bother me. Wrong! I was already angry enough since we were in the middle of arguing, but that last comment made me furious. I struck Gaar in the face. I don't mean a nice, womanly slap, either. God forbid I should do that; that wouldn't be like a warrior at all. I planted a good, hard fist right onto the side of his face, and it wasn't until the deed was done that I realized what had happened.

  This was not the brawl I'd started outside the inn; this was a wife striking her husband. And I knew that, and I was horrified at what I'd done. Gaar was horrified, too, but not so much so that he couldn't react. Before I could blurt out any apologies, he sent me sprawling across the room with an even stronger counterblow to my face.

  "Wench!" he roared. "How dare you strike me?! How dare you?! You know I could have you killed for that, don't you?? Don't you?!"

  I was too full of tears to apologize, or fight back, or beg forgiveness, or do or say anything at all. All I could do was continue holding my face in pain, and sob, and listen to him roar some more.

  "Do you think I'm some lowly beggar living in the streets, to do that to me?? Get away from me! Get away until you've learned to act like a decent human being! Go on—get out of here!"

  I paid no attention to where he was actually pointing, but I raced out the door as fast as I could, avoiding his gaze the whole way, and burst into our bedroom and slammed the door. I dove onto our bed and buried my head into a pillow, thinking only: What have I done? Oh, gods, what have I done?

  When Gaar entered our bedroom, my tears were just beginning to stop flowing. It was obvious that his anger was only just beginning to cool, as well. He came in noisily, slammed the door shut again, and gave me several angry looks while he dug through drawers and cupboards for something or other. At last he found what he was looking for, and he came over to me and loomed above me, arms akimbo. The sight of him made the tears flow again, and I looked away to cry.

  "Look at me when I tell you this," he commented. I turned toward him but still couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes.

  "I know how important being a warrior is to you," he said. "I was one myself; I know what the vest stands for. But you just don't understand, do you? You just can't get it through your stubborn little head that you don't need the vest to be a true warrior. What are you afraid of, girl? Are you afraid to be a woman?"

  I still couldn't answer him.

  "I have been as patient with you as a man could possibly be, and this is how I'm repaid! Was I right about you, girl? Are you capable of feelings?"

  "Yes…" I sobbed.

  "Well, then, prove it!" he snapped. "Show you have even the least bit of consideration for other people, and take the money I've given you and buy those damned dresses!"

  "I'm sorry," I whispered into the pillow.

  "What?"

  "I'm sorry," I repeated. Gaar said nothing, but reached out and pulled the pillow from my hands and threw it to the other side of the room.

  "Now…" he said. "What were you saying?"

  I sniffled and wiped some tears away.

  "I'm sorry," I repeated.

  "Sorry for what?" he demanded. "Sorry for dressing like a man all the time? Sorry for what?"

  "For… for hitting you…" I forced out. "For… for everything, I—I'm sorry…"

  "So what's to be done about that, then?" he asked.

&n
bsp; "Everything I do is wrong," I said. "All wrong…" Then my words were buried completely under tears. I heard Gaar sigh and start pacing back and forth.

  "You're my wife, Mara," he said, his voice strangely calm now, "and I love you. You know that, you know that I don't hate you. But you just—" he made a noise in frustration—"You just can't be this way for the rest of your life! Don't you understand that it's not just—just wearing a dress…"

  "I know that…" I blubbered. "I know. I've ruined things for you… I've messed up, as usual…"

  "You haven't ruined things for me," he said. "But no later than tomorrow, I want you to fix this problem. Is that clear?"

  "Yes…" I whispered. "It is. I'll do as you say, Gaar. No more arguing, I'll just do what you say."

  "I'm not asking for total obedience," he said. "Only in this case. All right?"

  "Yes…" I whispered. "All right."

  "Good," he said. "In the meantime, dry your tears. You're an odd girl, and a terror, too, sometimes, but gods help me, I still love you madly."

  I smiled bittersweetly, but kept my gaze on the floor.

  "I'll see you at dinner tonight, then, my wife," he said, and turned to leave. It was then that I had a great urge, greater than I'd felt before, to tell him something. Something I'd never told anyone else before—ever.

  "Gaar," I said so softly that I was afraid he wouldn't hear. He stopped and turned, however.

  "Yes?" he said.

  It took me a long time to say it, but I wouldn't let him leave before I'd forced it out.

  "I love you."

  There was a long silence, and then he walked slowly toward me, and then bent over to kiss me gently on the lips. When we parted he kept his face very close to mine.

  "I know," he whispered.

  That night Gaar gave me even more money to go into the marketplace and buy some clothes. I promised to buy plenty of dresses, and I even considered asking Leta to help me.