Night Blooming

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “If you think you must, then do,” said Rakoczy without any indication of dismay.

  She watched him as he rose and gathered up her clothes. “You puzzle me, Magnatus.”

  The use of his title made him flinch. “Why is that, Gynethe Mehaut?”

  “You offer me this gratification as if it were the gift of Angels, and not a sign of the sins of the flesh,” she said, trying not to think about the shame that threatened to overcome her.

  He began to fold her stolla. “Why cannot you have both?”

  She could hardly believe he had spoken. “Impossible. The flesh is the realm of the Devil. All sins he in the flesh.”

  He put the stolla down on the chest and picked up the gonella. “Is that why you have come to dread all touching—because you fear the sins of the flesh?”

  “As all Christians must,” she said as she did her best to make a gesture of protection. “We must turn away from the body to be worthy of Heaven.”

  He remained very still, profoundly aware of her growing conflict. Watching her, he longed for the means to help her accept her delectation, and recognized the impossibility of it. As he set her clothing aside, he wanted to speak of something that would ease the alienation that had arisen between them so quickly. “When I first came to this life, I was the demon some would have you think I am. But that was almost three thousand years ago, and in time I have learned that the brevity of life is what makes it most precious, and that time itself makes demands upon us. If Heaven has more to demand of us than life does, it is too remote for the living.”

  She listened to him attentively. “You don’t want me to say you have caused me to change my mind, do you?”

  “No. I was hoping to show you that I understand why you wouldn’t.” He came to the foot of the bed and stretched out his hand.

  “Then not all your women have become like you,” she said, a suggestion of doubt in her tone.

  “No; most of them have not,” he said, and had a momentary recollection of Csimenae, and another of Nicoris.

  Something must have shown in his face, for she said, “Does that trouble you?”

  “No; no, it doesn’t.” He touched her ankle. “If you don’t want the life I live, then don’t enter it. You are not in danger of it now.”

  “But it worries you that I would choose not to have it,” she persisted. “That’s what you expect, isn’t it? For me to change my mind and become like you.”

  “No,” he said. “I was remembering someone who should have refused and didn’t.”

  She was immediately curious. “How did that happen? When?”

  “It was a long time ago,” he said. “Not everyone is ready to live as we do. Not everyone was ready to outlive all children, friends, enemies, and their grandchildren, and great-grandchildren until you are gone from memory. Only legend might survive.”

  She shook her head. “I will never have children.” She pulled the fox-fur up to her chin. “I don’t know what it would be like to have friends as others do.”

  Rakoczy said nothing for a short while, and then he said, “I’m sorry you haven’t had friendship. You have an aptitude for it.”

  Gynethe Mehaut laughed once. “I suppose you expect me to cling to you, as my friend if not my lover. You want me to demand your devotion so that I will have to be one with you.”

  “No,” said Rakoczy. “I would never compel anyone to come to my life.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” She waited for him to argue with her.

  “I wish I weren’t leaving as much as you wish it,” said Rakoczy as levelly as he could. “If it were my decision to make, I would remain here at Roma, in my old villa outside the walls.”

  “Though you say you would not come to my bed again, in case I should end up a vampire,” she said bluntly. “You are glad you’re leaving.”

  “No. No, I’m not glad.” He came to her side and laid his hand on her shoulder. “If I could remain here without putting you in danger, I would, but if I defy Great Karl, I expose you to his anger, and that might incline the Pope to agree with Bishop Iso. So, as much as I would rather stay, I will leave you in Olivia’s care and hope that Pope Leo is more sensible than he has shown himself to be thus far.” He bent and kissed her brow. “Whether I am in Roma lying beside you or on the plains of Asia, I will love you and value you until the True Death claims me, and nothing you do will alter that.”

  She looked up at him, struck by his remark. “How did you know?”

  “That you want to drive me away?” He smiled at her, his enigmatic gaze lingering on her. “When will you believe that I know you?”

  Very slowly she lowered the fox-fur to beneath her shoulders. “I don’t understand you, Magnatus.”

  “If you were to share blood with me, you would be able to know me better,” said Rakoczy. “And I don’t say that to persuade you to accept my life, only to tell you what you might gain.”

  She stood up, the fox-fur blanket wrapped around her. “I want to hear nothing more of it.” She took a few careful steps toward the door.

  “Of course,” he said, wondering where she might be intending to go. “Are you planning to pray?”

  “Not yet. I would like to go down to the Bonna Dama’s garden. I haven’t tended a night garden in months.” She achieved an acceptable smile. “Come with me, if that would please you.”

  “It would please me to be in your company while I may,” he said, falling in slightly behind her.

  “In spite of Bonna Dama Clemens?” This last was a challenge.

  “Why should Olivia have anything to do with us?” Rakoczy asked, continuing before she could answer. “Yes. She was my lover when she lived, and my comrade and friend since she came to my life. She isn’t jealous of you, and you have no reason to be jealous of her.”

  “So you say,” she said, walking more quickly, a portion of the fox-fur blanket trailing behind her.

  “If you doubt me, speak to Olivia herself. I haven’t been jealous of the men she has loved since she and I were lovers and she a breathing woman.” He reached the outer door and added, “Once she came to my life we could no longer be lovers. No vampire can love another, not as you and I have loved tonight.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “Why not?”

  “Because we must seek life, and once we change from living to undead we have none to offer each other,” he said, and waited for her response.

  She stopped walking and turned around to look at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said with a slight, sad chuckle.

  “But—” She stopped herself.

  He came up to her and took her hand. “Those of my blood cannot afford jealousy.”

  Her red eyes were full of doubt. “But surely … there must be…” She pulled the fox-fur blanket more tightly around her.

  “What would be the purpose of jealousy?” Rakoczy asked. “We must seek the living or we starve and raven.” He winced at his recollections of those times. “Love isn’t measured out in dribs and drabs for fear of exhausting its supply—it expands to enfold all it touches, and grows by usage. It is fragile only if you make it so, for, like the silk, its lightness is its strength.” His compelling, dark eyes met her red ones. “If you learn nothing else from our time together, I implore you, learn this.”

  She stared at him, fascinated and a bit apprehensive. Finally she blinked. “I’ll … I’ll try to bear what you say in mind.”

  “I can’t ask you for much more,” Rakoczy said, accepting her pledge.

  “You tell me that now, and in the morning, you will leave,” she said, and continued toward the stairs that led down to the atrium, her fox-fur blanket swinging with every step. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she turned to see if he was following her. “How can you remain with me tonight when you depart at Prime?”

  “Would you prefer I leave you to yourself?” he asked.

  “No. But surely you have tasks awaiting you.” She cocked her head. “Do you tell me you d
o not? If you are delayed in the morning, you will hold me accountable for it.”

  “I won’t, you know,” he said. “I have traveled more times and gone farther than you can imagine. If I cannot tend to my readying by now, I am truly beyond all hope.” He came up to her. “It is snowing. Would you like me to fetch your slippers?”

  “Those leather ones from Egypt that Bonna Dama Clemens gave to me?” Gynethe Mehaut asked, and realized that her feet were cold. “If you are willing … I would like…”

  “Certainly. And if you would like other clothing?” He indicated the fox-fur blanket.

  “No. This will serve me very well,” she said, and turned to the pots on shelves under the overhanging eaves.

  Rakoczy went to fetch her slippers and encountered Niklos Aulirios in the upper gallery. “Is all well?” the handsome Greek major domo asked.

  “As much as can be expected,” said Rakoczy, holding up the slippers.

  Niklos nodded. “Your chests have all been carried down to the stable and will be loaded onto your mules before dawn. That’s when your escort is supposed to arrive, isn’t it?”

  “So the Emperor’s messenger informed me,” said Rakoczy with a wry twist of his mouth.

  “It is most difficult to travel in winter; you’ve done it enough to know how risky it is,” said Niklos with a look that encouraged comment.

  “So it is,” Rakoczy agreed. “But I am to cross the mountains as soon as the passes are open, so I will do my utmost to reach Lecco. I can stay there until word comes that it is safe to travel.”

  “It seems to me,” said Niklos in Alexandrian Greek, “that there are those who want you away from Roma when Gynethe Mehaut’s case is decided.”

  “It seems so to me, as well,” said Rakoczy, and went past Niklos toward the stairs, where he paused to ask, “Is Olivia—”

  “Out. She should be back between Vigil and Matins.” He sketched a reverence in Rakoczy’s direction. “I’ll order bread and cheese for your soldiers first thing in the morning.”

  “And a keg of beer. They’ll want something to help them keep warm.” Rakoczy hastened down the stairs and found Gynethe Mehaut bending over a small fern. He knelt next to her to hold her slippers for her.

  “You’re being very kind to me,” she said as she donned them.

  “I am showing you courtesy,” Rakoczy said, and thought that the Court of the Emperor was hardly the place to look for such gestures.

  “It is good of you,” she said, and moved away from him. “This atrium will be filled with flowers by the Paschal Mass.”

  “Very likely,” said Rakoczy.

  She continued around the atrium, staying under the eaves but clearly trying to take in the whole of the garden. “I wish I could see it,” she admitted a bit later. “All in flowers and filled with sweet odors. But that won’t be possible, will it?”

  “Probably not,” said Rakoczy, wishing he could offer her greater solace than that.

  There was a long silence between them, one that only ended when Vigil sounded from the monastery three streets away. “You would think, in this city, they would observe Nocturnes and not Vigil,” she said inconsequently. “But Roma has been sacked, so it may be that they wish to have guards all through the night.”

  “Or their Abbott wishes it so,” said Rakoczy.

  “Whatever their reason, they call me to prayer,” she said, and started toward the corridor leading to the small room that had been transformed four centuries ago from a private temple to the Magna Mater to one dedicated to Virgine Maria. “I will keep my Hours.”

  “Do you require anything of me?” Rakoczy asked, knowing that he had failed her.

  “No. Only your prayers.” Saying that, she vanished into the dark of the corridor, leaving Rakoczy alone in the atrium.

  It was there that Olivia found him some while later. “Sanct’ Germain!” she exclaimed, startled.

  “Olivia,” he said, reverencing her.

  She looked around, tossing back the hood of her mantellum and letting the snow fall onto her fawn-brown hair. “And Gynethe Mehaut?”

  “She is in your chapel, reciting her Offices,” he answered.

  “I would have thought she might forego that tonight,” Olivia remarked, arching her brows in speculation.

  “We had from Compline to Vigil,” Rakoczy said, and shook his head.

  “I am sorry,” Olivia said.

  “She is facing the Pope’s decision. I understand why she wants to keep all her devotions.” He came up to Olivia. “And so do you.”

  “Of course. But you must forgive me a little indignation on her behalf, and yours.” She put her hand on his arm. “I hate to see you go.”

  “But I must,” said Rakoczy.

  “I know.” She stepped back from him and turned her face up into the falling snow. “It is a cruel beauty.”

  “But it is beautiful,” Rakoczy agreed.

  Olivia turned slowly, arms extended, the light of the garden torches making a dance of her movements. “Tonight all Roma glows, but tomorrow there will be dead beggars and pilgrims from here to Ostia. The monasteries will pile the bodies in their crypts until the ground is soft enough to bury them.”

  “You saw bodies when you went out earlier,” said Rakoczy with a knowing half-smile.

  “Exactly. More than a dozen by the Circus Maximus—what’s left of it. I passed it on my way to a most willing young pilgrim; at least he won’t freeze tonight” She tugged her fur-lined mantellum closed. “It is sad to see what has become of Roma.”

  “Yes, it is,” Rakoczy told her.

  “And the streets so empty,” she went on.

  “If they truly are empty,” Rakoczy said. “It would be wise to be careful: there are more than the usual number of spies about.”

  “That there are,” she said. “Lurking like rats in the corners. I’ve had to pension off four mansionarii for selling information to the Lateranus Guards.” Her expression showed the extent of her disgust.

  “When was this?” Rakoczy asked, doing his best not to show the alarm he felt.

  “Since summer.” She could see his dismay. “Don’t suppose it was on your account, Sanct’ Germain, or not wholly so.”

  “But to have treachery in your own house—”

  She put her hand on his. “It is nothing new. From time to time I must dismiss those who seek to carry tales. You have done the same.”

  “Yes,” he said, still disliking the notion.

  “It began with the attack on the Pope; everyone was frightened and no one knows where to turn,” said Olivia. “It has grown worse since Karl-lo-Magne came here. Still,” she added, “it would have been worse had Leo’s enemies prevailed.”

  Rakoczy realized she was right. “If you will, do what you can for Gynethe Mehaut.”

  “Certainly,” she said promptly. “And I will inform you when I can what has transpired here. It may be difficult, given the cost of reliable couriers. But, Sanct’ Germain, when have I failed you, but in the Years of the Cold Sun?”

  “That was hardly your doing,” Rakoczy said, and started toward the stairs. “Will you see me off at dawn?”

  “How can you doubt it?” She came up to him. “And I’ll do all that I can to protect Gynethe Mehaut. I will pray that the matter is settled by spring, not drag on for the greater part of a year; I should be able to do that.”

  Rakoczy reverenced her as the most stringent of his worries finally lessened. “Thank you, Olivia.”

  TEXT OF A LETTER FROM ALCUIN OF YORK TO THE MAGNATUS HIERNOM RAKOCZY, CARRIED BY CHURCH COURIER.

  To the most respected foreigner, and confidant of the Emperor Karl-lo-Magne, the Magnatus Hiernom Rakoczy, Comes Sant’ Germainius, at his fiscs near Sant’ Cyricus, the greetings of Alcuin, Bishop of Sant’ Martin at Tours, at the end of March in the Pope’s year 801.

  Amen.

  I have received from Roma today the first dispatch of spring, which contains material that will interest you, and I have taken
it upon myself to inform you of what it contained, for it is unlikely that the missi dominici will bring you this news. Upon reviewing the report, I am inclined to impart to you all the appropriate information that has been vouchsafed me. It has to do with the Pope’s decision in regard to Gynethe Mehaut, and the manner in which it will be carried out.

  His Holiness has deliberated upon the condition of Gynethe Mehaut and has announced that he will send her to Bishop Berahtram of Sant’ Yrieix, to become an anchorite at the convent of his bishopric. This way, if she is a manifestation of the Anti-Christ she will be guarded so that she cannot damage, malign, or damn any Christian, and if she is a messenger from God, she will increase the sanctity of the nunnery of Sant’ Ianuarius through her prayers and her presence. This is a wise decision, one that both Bishops Freculf and Iso can accept, and one that will bring Bishop Berahtram to the notice and gratitude of Pope Leo, which can only strengthen the Church in Franksland. You may be pleased to know that your concern on her behalf mitigated the severity of the Pope’s resolution, which might have been more restricted than an anchorite’s cell.

  The woman is to be escorted to Sant’ Ianuarius in May, when troops will come north from Roma and will provide the guards she requires. Word will be sent to the Emperor as soon as she is installed at Sant’ Ianuarius, and as soon as I receive confirmation, I will inform you with the understanding that you will do nothing to attempt to bring her out of her immurement, for that would only serve to show that she is a servant of the Anti-Christ. Let her do the penance the Pope demands of her, and thank him for his mercy.

  I must thank you for the maps you have sent to us. If half of what you show us is true and accurate, the lands of the Great Khan are vast indeed. I shall put them among our itineraries and descriptiones, with gratitude for your knowledge. I pray that in time God will send us other travelers to confirm what you have shown us. I have informed the Emperor of your gift to us, and asked that he honor your donation even as we have done.