The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  She was thrilled to help me shop for new clothes, and I lost count of all the dresses and material she ended up thrusting in my face all day long. I had no concept of what was fashionable at the time. By the end of the day I was exhausted, and only had two outfits to show for it. That satisfied Gaar, however, and from then on, when Leta had the time, she would direct me to things that she thought suited me. She even got me to start arranging my hair in different ways; usually it was just pinned up, but sometimes I let her practice her braiding technique on me. She seemed to really like playing with my hair—no doubt because it was long and straight and took easily to many arrangements. I've worn my hair short these days, however.

  Also, the night I bought my new clothes, I brought Gaar to our family hearth, and threw my vest into the flames. This startled him, and he tried to pull it out, but I wouldn't let him. I told him that I had decided I was no longer a warrior—period. He tried to go on about how I could always be a warrior in my heart, blah blah, but he was missing my point. I was rejecting what to me had always been the warrior: the mercenary. The killer for pay. That was a fruitless, empty life for me now. It had caused far too much pain and heartache, and it was time to put aside that pain and embrace a new life. From then on, I would be a wife, a mother, a friend—but never again a killer.

  So I became the most devoted, loyal, and obedient wife that a woman could be. From then on I lived to serve my husband and family and was proud of it, too. I never had any regrets about my decision. For the first time in my life I felt happy and fulfilled, even redeemed for the life I once led.

  We had another son, Tirell, two and a half years after Ran was born. I wanted Gaar to witness the birth, but that was one thing I couldn't change his mind about. He just wouldn't watch, period. By this time Leta had also been married and was working on producing her own children. She'd had her first child—a daughter—by the time we had our own daughter, Kiri. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive about Gaar's reaction to Kiri. In fact, before he learned that he had a new daughter and not a son, I vowed to myself not to allow her to grow up hating herself or fearing men as I had. Fortunately he was thrilled with Kiri, although I know that he really would have preferred another boy. Nevertheless Gaar was a fine father and loved all of us deeply.

  A little more reminiscing, if you'll allow me. Besides being extraordinarily patient and understanding, Gaar was also the most generous man I'd ever known. He couldn't seem to help buying gifts for me. Sometimes he didn't even need an occasion, such as when he surprised me one day with a beautiful emerald ring—"to match your eyes," as he put it. I wasted no time showing it to Leta and some other friends.

  Another time he arranged for me to have one full day at the public baths. That is, he paid in advance for every service they had so that I could choose whatever treatment I wished in the entire place. I'd never been there before and wasn't certain what to expect, but I ended up taking a private spring bath, a full one-hour massage (which put me right to sleep), and a manicure. I avoided the frilly beauty things like the mud packs and face-painting sessions. I had a wonderfully relaxing and refreshing time there, and when I returned home I treated Gaar to the best and longest lovemaking he'd ever had. He more than deserved it.

  * * *

  BOOK II

  Chapter 9

  Eight of the best years of my life (not counting my present life, of course) ensued. I was thirty-one, Gaar was thirty-four, Leta was twenty-three, Ran was seven, Tirell was four, and Kiri was two. Leta's two children were Gwendolyn and Jonathan, ages four and two, respectively. Castrill prospered fairly well under Gaar's magistracy, or at least more so than under the former magistrate. For one thing, Gaar wasn't afraid to spend money or invest it, either. Gaar also alleviated the problem of Westmont by setting up a partial trade with them—partial because they really didn't have much to trade, and the city was still recovering from its defeat at our hands.

  Gaar was always willing to expand Castrill's boundaries or extensions if possible. He was very interested in starting up trade with more coastal cities in Gaul if he could, but it wasn't always easy negotiating with the magistrates there.

  Then one particular magistrate took an interest in setting up trade with Castrill. His city had wheat and other crops to share in exchange for our wood and coal.

  His name was Agyar, and he contacted us first. He sent several messages inviting Gaar and me to come to Clovaine and talk. Gaar initially responded by sending other men to speak for him, as he was rather busy at the time. But each of the men were sent back with the message that Agyar would speak only with the magistrate. And he insisted that the magistrate's wife join him to "keep him company," as it might take a while to reach an agreement.

  Quite frankly the thought of having to sit through a bunch of trade negotiations gave me the heebie-jeebies, but Gaar talked me into going along with him. He didn't want to go, either, and thought it rather arrogant of Agyar to demand that he go. But if Gaar was to go, then I would go along with him.

  I surely wanted to be with Gaar, but I also didn't want to leave all my friends and family behind. Leta certainly couldn't go, and it would have been terribly inconvenient and even rude of me to take my own children with us to Gaul. They were so young, you see…

  Kiri cried because she knew Mama and Papa were leaving, but I did my best to assure her that we would be returning to her. I promised her we would come back; I promised all of the children. But I was unable to say goodbye to Leta when we left; actually, I gave her my good-byes some time later in Gaul. You'll understand what I mean later.

  We reached the other side of the Channel around late afternoon, and by the time we reached Clovaine the sun was just setting. Agyar sent a carriage to take us to him, but I can't say I felt all that comfortable with our driver; a rather creepy-looking fellow, he was, all pale and emaciated.

  I could tell right away that the nightlife here was about as dead as Castrill's before Gaar took over the magistracy. Nearly all of the homes and hovels we passed by were shut up tightly, and only if one looked closely was it possible to see any light coming from shuttered windows.

  I was not awestruck by Agyar's home when we arrived. Gaar was a magistrate himself, remember, and I was now a bit spoiled by our very spacious living quarters. Agyar's home may not have been as wide or long as ours, but it was taller, with three stories as opposed to our two. It was also rather brightly colored and well lit. Our creepy-looking driver soon pointed out the obvious—that it was Agyar's home—to us, and headed us for the stables.

  We were directed to the main entrance, where we were to wait for someone to take us to our room before meeting the magistrate. Gaar was pleased that Agyar wanted to make sure that we felt comfortable before business commenced. I was momentarily distracted from what he was saying when I felt as though someone were watching us, or if not both of us, then me.

  We were soon joined by one of Agyar's servants, who quickly summoned some other servants to carry our things to our room. Gaar was clearly enjoying the attention, and, taking my arm, we followed the servant to our quarters.

  They were only slightly larger than our own room, but with the pleasant addition of a balcony overlooking all of Clovaine. I was drawn to the balcony immediately and went outside, ignoring Gaar's chatter.

  "The magistrate would like to know if you have eaten dinner, and, if not, a feast will be prepared for you immediately, if you wish," said the servant.

  "Yes. Yes, we'd like that," said Gaar. "I'm starving. Mara? My wife, are you hungry?"

  "Hmm?" I said, tearing myself away from the view beyond the balcony.

  "Agyar has been kind enough to offer us dinner," Gaar said.

  "Oh," I said. "Yes. Yes, good; I'm half starved," I finished, and then turned back to the view.

  Soon after the servant left, Gaar crept by my side and placed an arm around me.

  "These quarters are marvelous," he murmured. "I've always wanted to sleep in a room with a balcony."

  "Mmmh
mm."

  "Aren't you cold?" he asked, rubbing my shoulders.

  "Hmm?"

  "Your arms are so cold. Can't you feel it?"

  "Mmm. No, I suppose I didn't," I said, but now feeling the cold once I'd been reminded of it. Gaar left my side to bring me a cloak, and we stood silently in the almost-full moonlight, breathing in the night air.

  "We'd better see what they're serving us," Gaar said suddenly.

  "Aren't they going to call us?"

  "Mmm. I suppose they will. But I'm so hungry…"

  "I've been much hungrier than this," I said.

  "In the old days," he said. "Yes, I suppose we've both been spoiled by wealth. It makes one forget about those who still struggle, but it doesn't make one forget hunger," he joked, slapping his belly. Then he sighed loudly and leaned onto the balcony wall.

  "This place is lovely," he whispered. "Even at night."

  "How do you know it looks good in the daytime?" I said. "You can't see very much now."

  "There you go, spoiling things," he scolded.

  I shrugged. "I'm sorry; I don't really know why I said that. I've always been that way. You know that."

  "True," he said, and stood up straight. "But I love you, anyway, complaints and all," he added, and began kissing me, slowly at first, but then harder until he was practically tearing my clothes off in the moonlight. I put my hands between us and pushed him away.

  "Gaarius!" I cried (I called him that when I was upset with him). "Stop that; what if they announced dinner all of a sudden??"

  "Mmm, food isn't the only thing I'm hungry for," he growled playfully.

  "Later, Gaar, later," I teased. "Gods, you know I don't like it when you're like that."

  "Then perhaps you'll both be in higher spirits after you've dined," a voice called suddenly from behind us. Gaar and I both whirled around, startled, and a silhouette stood in the doorway. It moved slowly toward us into the candlelight, and then we could see that it could only be our host.

  He was tall, but not as tall as Gaar or even I. His dark, curly hair only made his somewhat pale skin seem that much paler. He was leaner than Gaar, but not thin—more like wiry, if anything. Agyar greeted us in fancy Roman dress, no doubt to impress us. Our own clothing was fancy, too, but dirty from the long, dusty trip to Agyar's home.

  He moved quickly to us and extended both hands to Gaar in greeting.

  "Welcome, sir," he said. "I am the magistrate here—Agyar. I hope you enjoyed the trip here."

  "It was well enough. And I am the magistrate Gaarius," he said.

  "Please accept my apologies for refusing to see anyone but you," Agyar continued. "It's the way I am, you see. I've had too many problems with bumblers to trust anyone less than the top man."

  "I see," said Gaar. "Well, let's just hope we can work quickly, men. I do have—"

  "Of course, of course," Agyar interrupted. "We both have cities to run. I assure you all this will take only a few days at best."

  "Good," said Gaar. Agyar then diverted his attention to me.

  "And this…" he began. "This must be your lovely wife."

  "Yes," said Gaar. "My wife Mara. Mara—the magistrate Agyar."

  I said nothing at all. I didn't realize it until later, but I had been staring at Agyar from the moment he entered the room. He was not blindingly handsome; nor did he strike me down with charm or wit. But I couldn't help just staring at him, even while he bowed slightly in greeting. Then he motioned for us to follow him, and it was only after Gaar nudged me once that I snapped out of my trance and took his waiting hand into mine.

  Dinner was marvelous. Or maybe it was because I was so hungry. Gaar ingested three servings of roast pig, vegetables, bread and butter, and two cups of wine. I ate less than he but enjoyed every bite. Agyar, meanwhile, had only a few chunks of meat and a carrot on his plate; he explained that he had eaten most of his meal already and wasn't terribly hungry. But he insisted that we pay no heed to his own measly servings and eat our fills, and then some.

  I paid little attention to the majority of the table conversation; it was mostly Gaar and our host chatting about their respective cities. I don't think they were trying to compete with each other, but they each occasionally exaggerated the good features of their lands. A natural thing, I suppose.

  I made an effort not to stare this time, as the realization that I had been doing so earlier embarrassed and shamed me. I had never stared at anyone other than Gaar like that before, and I felt myself suppressing the notion that Agyar might actually have fascinated me.

  After dinner Agyar offered to give us a personal tour of his home, but Gaar and I were exhausted from all that traveling and had to postpone the offer. So Agyar simply escorted us back to our room to bid us good night.

  "Sleep well, sir—and lady," he said. "And may you have lovely dreams, as well," he added, but looked at me as he spoke those words. I shifted a little uncomfortably and looked down out of nervousness.

  "Thank you," said Gaar. "Thank you. And the same to you."

  "Uh—" Agyar suddenly said as we were about to shut the door, "I'm afraid we cannot meet tomorrow."

  "What?" said Gaar, a little annoyed.

  "Not until the evening, I'm afraid," Agyar clarified. "I have business in town all day tomorrow and can't be back here until the evening, you see. You will forgive the inconvenience, won't you?"

  "Uhh, certainly," said Gaar.

  "Good," he said, "Until tomorrow evening, then, my home and my servants are at your disposal. Do what you wish with them, until we meet again."

  "Thank you, Agyar," Gaar said as politely as he could. "Until tomorrow, then." Then he shut the door, and we were alone, finally.

  Gaar sighed once and shook his head. "Arrogant," he grumbled. "First he demands that I come personally and then we must wait for him all day."

  "Well… maybe he can't really help having business in town," I offered.

  "I think he can. If I demanded to see another magistrate I would make certain I had no other business to distract me."

  "I know that," I said. "But then—"

  "And I don't like the way he looks at you."

  "What?"

  "I said, I don't like the way he looks at you. Gawking at you all night. Does he think I wouldn't see something like that?"

  "Gawking at me?"

  "Yes!" he said. "You certainly noticed it. You've been gawking at him all night, too."

  "I haven't."

  "You have. You were practically in a trance when he first greeted us."

  "A trance?" I cried. "But I—but—Well, I wasn't really looking at him—"

  "Then what were you looking at?" he demanded.

  "Nothing," I lied. "I was only thinking. You know—you begin thinking, and then you start staring…?"

  "I see," he said. "So you're saying you see absolutely nothing in the man?"

  "Of course not!" I cried. "I can't believe you would accuse me of that! I've been faithful to you; I have always been faithful to you, and I always will—!"

  "All right, all right," he interrupted. "I'm sorry, love. I only—I'm just exaggerating. But only for you; Agyar has no excuse. He was gawking at you all night."

  "Well… I should tell him not to, then."

  "No. I'll tell him, if he continues," he said. Then he moved to my side and kissed me on the temple.

  "You're right, love," he continued. "You've never been unfaithful to me, and no, you never would be, either."

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  "Thank you," he insisted "For always being there when I needed you—for standing by my side. And I'm glad you're here now, to keep me company."

  "I wish the children could be with us."

  "So do I," he said. "But they'll be fine. We'll only be gone a week, at most. We'll see them again soon."

  We passed several minutes embracing and kissing before climbing into bed. Agyar had provided us with a wonder fully comfortable bed, which was exactly what we needed to end an exhausting
day.

  Gaar, being the friendly fellow that he was, spent a good portion of the next day chatting with some of Agyar's servants. I noticed that there didn't seem to be too many around—maybe some stable workers, and of course the people who prepared our food. I really wondered if those people ate enough themselves; not a chunky or fat person within miles of us, it seemed, but they certainly pulled out the stops to feed us. Agyar's orders, no doubt.

  Meanwhile I took to aimlessly wandering about the house. It was quite richly decorated. Every room had an entire wall painted, statues, vase collections, or some other fine work of art within, and I noticed a few busts and paintings of Agyar himself scattered throughout the house. And I caught myself staring not a few times at these, as well. What am I staring at?l wondered. There's nothing so wonderful about him, is there? I must stop this; Gaar is right. He doesn't deserve this from me, after he's been so wonderful to me all these years .. .

  I went back to our room before lunchtime. Gaar was off, still talking with Agyar's people, I surmised. And I was tired and not a little bored trying to pass the time away all day long. And then I looked on our bed, and there lay the finest suit and finest dress I'd ever seen. How did these get here? I thought. Whose are these? and then I noticed there was a note on the dress, and it said in Latin: "Gifts for the magistrate and his wife. Your humble host, Agyar." I was enthralled. He had had his servants lay these clothes out for us as a surprise. Immediately I swept up the dress into my arms and held it in front of me before our mirror. I can't possibly accept this, I thought. I become so embarrassed when I'm given gifts. And Gaar will probably be furious to know that Agyar is giving me gifts now. But wait—he gave Gaar a fine suit, too. He's just being generous, that's all. But I couldn't accept this; or—I could at least try it on quickly, just to see if it fits. I'm certain it doesn't fit…

  It fit perfectly. He either knew my size before I even arrived there, or he was an excellent estimator. I opted to believe the latter explanation. The dress was green, with blue-and-red trim, and it emphasized my modest hips perfectly while deemphasizing my broad shoulders. I didn't really want to admit it, but it looked lovely on me, and I decided that Gaar had to see me in it, if only for a little while. Just during lunch, at least.