by Tony Evans
We were not a moment too soon. The massive bodies of some two dozen cattle parted at each side of the stump like river water round a rock. One of the divided streams of panicking beasts overran poor Nicolaus, who was knocked down and trampled into the ground. As the big beasts scattered over the yard and slowed to a halt I saw our young acquaintance lying still and pale upon the muddy grass.
Chapter 9
At first Mina and I had feared the worst. We summoned the young man’s parents, and between us we carried Nicolaus into the farmhouse and upstairs to his bedroom.
Like many country women of the province, Maria Polgar had some traditional medical knowledge, inherited from the time – not long ago – when qualified doctors were both hard to find and too expensive for most of the population to afford. She examined her son carefully and could find no broken bones or obvious evidence of internal injuries. We waited an hour or so, by which time Nicolaus had regained his senses, sat up in bed and drunk a herbal remedy which his mother had prepared. It seemed that he had been very fortunate, and had escaped with nothing worse that severe bruising and mild concussion. We offered to bring a doctor from Bistritz, but the Polgars declined. No opportunity offered itself for a conversation with Nicolaus, and even if it had I doubt that Mina or I would have wished to impose further upon his confidence.
When Mina and I took our leave, Lajos Polgar walked with us from the house to where our horses were tethered. He looked across the farmyard towards the cow byre, where his herd were patiently cropping the grass outside the ruined doors. On impulse I reached inside the inner pocket of my coat, where I kept a roll of banknotes, and offered them to Lajos.
I pointed to the splintered planks. ‘For repairs,’ I said. ‘For the farm. Please take it.’
The thickset farmer shook his head, and spoke in hesitant German. ‘Thank you, no. It is kind, but I cannot. I fix doors myself.’ He held out his hand to us. ‘You must not come again,’ he said. ‘Not safe for us – or you.’
*
When our horses had carried us out of sight of the farmhouse I slowed my mount to a halt and Mina stopped beside me.
‘What do you make of it?’ I asked. ‘Normally I am a great believer in coincidence. If a blasphemer is struck by lightning I would prefer to blame the vagaries of the storm rather than the wrath of the Almighty. Nevertheless it does seem remarkable that Nicolaus was knocked down the instant before he was about to reveal to us – to use his phrase, if memory serves me right – “the instigator of this evil”.’
‘I would agree with you. And it is not as if the young man had been felled by a falling branch, or thrown by his horse. The manner of his accident was quite bizarre. I lived in the countryside as a young girl, and have never heard of cattle behaving in such a way.’
I urged my horse to continue along the trail. Mina followed me, and I turned my head to speak to her. ‘I suggest we say nothing of this matter when we reach Urmuz. There is little more that can be done today. I pray to God that Father Filimon will be able to help us further when we speak to him on Monday. This is a very dark business, and until a gleam of light appears I do not see how I can possibly recommend the purchase of the Davila Estate to Lord Tavistock.’
*
In fact the uneventful afternoon and evening that we had planned failed to materialise. When Mina and I had returned our horses to the stables at the Kraznevin Inn, we were about to pass through the main entrance when the heavy doors opened and a familiar figure stepped out into the yard.
Mina clutched my arm in excitement. ‘Abraham Van Helsing!’ she cried.
‘I’ve never been more glad to see him,’ I said, striding forward to greet our friend. ‘Professor, it’s Jonathan and Mina!’
After exchanging effusive greetings the three of us were soon ensconced in a quiet corner of the large tap room, where we could talk in private.
‘We’re delighted to find you, Professor,’ Mina said. ‘But what has brought you here?’
Van Helsing sipped from the tankard of ale that I had ordered for him, dabbed at his beard with a red spotted handkerchief and placed the heavy glass on the table.
‘I received Jonathan’s telegram three days ago, on Thursday afternoon,’ he said. ‘It told me of the warning given by Bruno Strug: The evil that you and your friends overcame in 1893 has returned. As soon as I received it I wished that I could join you in Transylvania, but that was not possible, as I was due in Paris to address the Académie des Sciences at their conclave. Then on Friday I received a telegram from the academy’s secretary, telling me that the meeting has been postponed until next month. I immediately decided to find you. On my arrival at Bistritz I made enquiries at the Golden Krone, and the proprietress – Frau Haussmann – told me that you could be found here in Urmuz at the Kraznevin Inn.’
‘Your arrival could hardly have been better timed,’ I said. ‘A great deal has happened over the last three days: Mina and I have much to tell you.’
Van Helsing looked sombre. ‘First there is one thing you need to know. Before I left Bistritz I enquired after Bruno Strug: to my surprise Frau Haussmann recognized the name immediately. Strug was found hanged in his lodgings on Friday morning. There is to be an inquest, but as nothing was stolen, and the man was not known to have any enemies, the police believe the most likely explanation to be suicide.’
*
Chastened by the news of Strug, Mina and I lost no time in telling Van Helsing every detail of what had occurred since our arrival in Bistritz last Thursday morning, including the statement the Elena Bretin had made to us regarding her nocturnal visitor. I concluded by inviting the Professor to accompany us when we visited Father Filimon the next day. After our account was finished, Van Helsing lit his pipe, sat back in his chair and stared thoughtfully into the middle distance for some minutes before speaking.
‘I note that neither of you have advanced any theories that you may have to explain these disturbing events,’ he said. ‘I can think of two possible reasons for your reticence. Either you feel there is not yet enough evidence on which to base a hypothesis – or you wish to hear my interpretation of the facts before proposing your own!’
I smiled. ‘Naturally Mina and I have considered the matter. But by all means give us your conclusions first.’
The Professor drew on his pipe and exhaled, the smoke wreathing his head like a mist. ‘Very well. First, let us make a distinction between concrete evidence – that which one or both of you have seen with your own eyes, or know to have occurred – and hearsay, that is, what you have been told. As for the former, we have the death of Bruno Strug following his warning to you; the near fatal incident in the Polgars’ farmyard which interrupted your conversation with Nicolaus; the scene that you witnessed between Franz and Maria Polgar in the tap room; and the conversation that Jonathan overheard later, when someone thus far unidentified was demanding money from the landlord, Peter Seypos.
‘As to hearsay, we have first the information given to you by Franz. We could of course attempt to verify what Franz had said concerning the systematic attempts that have been made to extort money in the province, but I see no reason to doubt his word. After all, if he is telling lies, he knows we can quickly find him out. I’m sure there have been cases of blackmail, suicide, bankruptcy and murder such as he describes. But the question remains: what is the source of this criminality? Then we have the dramatic statement of Princess Elena, which Jonathan has recorded with such admirable clarity.
‘Now, because of the terrible events in which the three of us were involved five years ago, it is natural that we might assume a resurgent supernatural force to be behind the disturbing incidents which have afflicted the Davila Estate. However, let me play Devil’s advocate for a moment. First, the systematic criminality that has been practised in order to raise money from the victims: if such a scheme was discovered in London or Chicago, we would expect to find all-too human villains behind it. That could be the case here. Second, the statement of the Princess. L
et us not forget, in this regard, that she is a young woman of only nineteen years. She has lived a life of comparative isolation, and I daresay is no stranger to sensational fiction. In addition she can hardly have avoided learning about Count Dracula’s recent reign of terror: his old dwelling place is no more than twenty miles from Vlados Monastery. In conclusion, Elena believes what she saw – but did she really see what she believes?
‘Finally, as to the concrete evidence, what you saw at the Polgars’ farm is certainly compelling. But it does not necessarily prove that unnatural powers were at work. For example – unlikely as the theory is – suppose someone who wished you harm had been hiding in the cow byre, and had tormented the cattle with a goad, causing them to charge? As for poor Bruno Strug, I cannot imagine that the life of an elderly unemployed coachman was very pleasant. Sad as it is, such people kill themselves every day.’
Mina shook her head and smiled ruefully. ‘Professor, are you trying to tell us that you believe there is a rational explanation for everything which has occurred since we returned to Transylvania?’
‘Not at all, my dear. I am merely pointing out that we need more evidence. Let me make a suggestion. If we are successful in speaking to Father Filimon tomorrow morning, let us consider what he has to say. Then if necessary we will speak to Notary Dimov and Prince Bretin concerning what they saw on the night when that young woman forced her way into Elena’s bedroom. After that we can interview Peter Seypos. I believe that I know enough of the local dialect to persuade him to tell us who was demanding money from him – especially if the alternative is a trip with us to Klausenburg to be questioned by the Commissioner of Police.’
Chapter 10
I had already ascertained from the servants at the Kraznevin Inn that Father Filimon still lived in the small house next the Eastern Orthodox Church. Although retired from his duties as parish priest, the elderly cleric occasionally officiated at services. The new incumbent lived in Bistritz, and was glad to let the priest continue to inhabit his former dwelling.
As the house was a mere half mile from the inn, early next morning Professor Van Helsing and I set off for our visit on foot. We had expected Mina to join us, but she had persuaded us that three people arriving at the priest’s house might seem excessive.
The front door was opened by a grey-haired diminutive old woman whom I took to be the housekeeper. Her initial air of suspicion was soon dispelled by a few words from Van Helsing in the local dialect, and we were ushered into a comfortably furnished inner chamber, part lounge, part study, where Father Filimon was seated in a deep leather chair. His housekeeper spoke softly to him, and left.
The priest indicated that we should sit on the sofa opposite.
‘Professor Van Helsing – it is good to see you again,’ he said. ‘Let me see – it must be eighteen months since we met, if memory serves me right. Forgive me if I do not rise to greet you. The afflictions of age, I fear.’
‘You have an excellent memory!’ the Professor said.
Father Filimon shrugged his shoulders. I would have taken him to be in his late eighties – perhaps even older. He wore a heavy black cassock, and a large gold crucifix around his neck. His full, traditional beard was almost pure white, and the skin stretched tightly over his domed and hairless skull was papery and thin.
‘My mind is as strong as it ever was, thanks be to God.’
Van Helsing waved his hand towards me.
‘My apologies, I am forgetting my manners. Father Filimon, may I introduce my very good friend Mr Jonathan Harker.’
As the Professor spoke Father Filimon darted a look of surprise towards me. He quickly recovered himself and nodded politely in my direction.
‘Ah yes – Mr Harker, of course. Naturally I am aware of the part that you played alongside Professor Van Helsing and your friends five years ago. The former scourge of Count Dracula is discussed very little in this province – perhaps due to the shame of having submitted to it for so long – but we are all very much in your debt. And your wife, Mr Harker, is she well? Did you bring her with you on your return visit to our country?’
There was nothing obtrusive in the question, and yet for some reason I felt uncomfortable at his query. Not for the first time I wished that Mina was safe at home in Exeter with our son Quincy. I answered the priest in the affirmative, and after a further exchange of pleasantries Van Helsing explained the purpose behind our visit.
‘When we met in August 1896 you were able to reassure me that you had personally examined the three bodies found in a secret burial chamber in Dracula’s Castle, and that there was every reason to suppose that they were the mortal remains of the three acolytes that the Count kept in thrall to him there. I would now like to question you further about what you found that day: that, is, if you are agreeable.’
For a moment I thought that the old priest was going to refuse to discuss the matter, but after a brief silence he turned towards me, and pointed across the room.
‘Mr Harker, I would be grateful if you could make sure that the door to this chamber is secure. I think you may have left it a little ajar. Now, ask of me what you will.’
I did as he requested, and as I pushed the door home I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of feet retreating down the corridor. It appeared that the priest was well aware of his housekeeper’s foibles, so I said nothing and resumed my seat.
‘The clothes and jewellery that you found in the three coffins that day,’ Van Helsing asked. ‘Can you describe them further? What ornaments in particular did you see?’
Father Filimon looked puzzled. ‘I’m afraid I am no expert in female decoration. There were a few dull metal bangles, round what remained of their wrists – the poor women were not much more than skeletons. And one wore a pendant of some kind, which had become tarnished and green. Of course the jewellery would have looked very different before its period in the grave.’
Van Helsing nodded. ‘Of course. And what of the clothes? Could any colours be distinguished – silver or gold braid, perhaps?’
The priest shook his head. ‘Again I can be of little help. What remained was – very corrupted. I do remember some pieces of a thick blue fabric, serge or felt perhaps. And a wide leather belt of some kind.’
I interjected with a question. ‘Father Filimon, you mentioned a secret burial chamber. Could you describe exactly how it is reached? As you know I have stayed in the castle myself, but my knowledge of the structure is very limited.’
The old man gave a detailed account of how to reach the place, which I carefully copied into my pocket book. When he had finished Van Helsing thanked him.
‘You have been most helpful,’ the Professor said. ‘I have one final question for you before we take our leave. Let me assure you that your answer will be treated in the strictest of confidence.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper and continued. ‘The youth who came to you three months after the destruction of Dracula, to report his finding of the three coffins. The fact that he sought you out for advice suggests that you were known to him: perhaps he was one of your parishioners? I would like to know the name of that young gentleman.’
At Van Helsing’s words the priest rose abruptly, his frailties temporarily forgotten. The air of old-fashioned courtesy which he had maintained for most of our conversation has been replaced by a very different expression.
‘That is not possible, Gentlemen. I have no knowledge whatsoever of the name of the young man who came to see me that night. Even if I had, it would be betraying a confidence to reveal it. Now, I do not wish to appear discourteous, but I have some correspondence to deal with this morning, and my time is therefore limited.’
At this unsubtle hint we took our leave. As we walked back to the Kraznevin Inn I turned to the Professor. ‘Your last question seemed to make Father Filimon very suspicious,’ I said.
‘Suspicious, Jonathan? I think not. I believe that my request excited a very different emotion in the priest’s mind: fear, and of an extreme kind. The old m
an is clearly terrified of something – or someone. Now, what do you say to an expedition to Dracula’s Castle? After what Father Filimon has told us, I believe that we need to see the three coffins for ourselves before we take our investigations any further.’
*
By noon Van Helsing and I, accompanied by Mina, had entered the high, narrow pass between the western spur of the Carpathian Mountains – the Brezlau Way – and commenced the last stage of our journey to Dracula’s Castle. Although the Castle lay only twelve miles north east of Urmuz, it was rare for travellers to go this way, since the track was impassable to carriages. However, we had obtained strong and sturdy mounts from the landlord of the Kraznevin Inn, and they made good progress through what remained of the last fall of snow. Mina had wanted us to tell someone of our destination – Peter Seypos or Franz, perhaps – but Van Helsing convinced my wife that secrecy was vital.
Mina adeptly steered her horse around a fallen branch. ‘Tell me, Professor, what was it that persuaded you we should examine the coffins?’ she asked.
‘Father Filimon’s description of the clothes and jewellery found with the three corpses. Now, the ornate coffins and the secret location where they are stored suggests that they are the resting place of the three female vampires once controlled by Dracula. The identities of those acolytes are well known. All three were high-born ladies. The two with dark hair were twins: Lady Jadwiga and Lady Anna, who were only twenty years old when Dracula first drew them into his power, over seventy years ago. And of course, in outward appearance twenty they remained. Their dreadful fate resulted in the suicide of their mother, Countess Graff. The fair haired woman, Sophie, was the daughter of an Elector of Zagreb. She became part of the Count’s ghastly entourage quite recently, at the age of twenty three. These three abhorrences to nature were doomed to haunt the mortal world forever clothed in the attire and ornaments that they wore when they were first enthralled.’
