He sighed. “I promise.”
“My body is tired. I do not know how much more it can give me.”
“You need to rest, that is all. We should not travel for a time.”
“A rest would be good.”
“Till you feel better. I am not ready to carry on without you yet.”
“We can never be ready for such things.”
“Not I, at least. My earliest memories are all of you.”
“Mine too.”
“I love you, Antonia.”
“And I love you, Andrei.”
He heard her gasp quietly. “Antonia?”
Her body fell limp at his side.
“Antonia?” he said again. He moved back and sat up.
Andrei looked down at his wife. She lay with her eyes closed and her lips slightly apart. Tears welled in his eyes. He knew she had gone. A terrible feeling crawled through him from the pit of his stomach, a feeling of dread and loss.
He raised her up in his arms and cradled her head into his chest. Her hair still smelled so good. He stroked it in as soft a way as he could, as he rocked her gently back and forth.
The tears flowed freely down his face. “How can I go on without you?” he said into her ear. “I do not want to.”
He felt so tempted to lay her down and breathe life back into her. Many times in his life he had done such a thing. He knew, though, that he could not do that for her, not after the promise he had made. She knew it was her time. That is why she said it.
Andrei looked up as her soul rose from her body. It stood only a foot away, looking somewhere far off. He reached out to touch it, but his hand passed straight through.
“Please do not take her from me yet,” he begged those he knew would soon come for her. “Give me a little more time.”
He hummed a soft tune. It was the one she loved most of all, of the few he kept in his head. He used to do it over her swollen belly during each of her pregnancies. She always said it was the reason their sons were at peace with the world when they were born. How he wished he could relive one of those times.
Her soul turned to look at him, and smiled. He looked up through teary eyes and smiled back. “Do not go yet.”
A light shone through the tent and touched against Antonia’s soul. They are coming for her.
He cried harder. What is there without you? He had not known a world that did not have her in it. Yet now he was going to discover just that. His heart felt heavy. After saying goodbye to her, he knew he had only one thing left to do in his life. Then there was nothing more for him.
The light grew brighter, and her soul turned to face it. He could see the excitement on the face of all that was left of his wife. It should have made him happy, but instead, it devastated him. Very soon they would take her. That would be his last moment with her in the mortal sphere.
Then he saw them. He laid her body down gently and jumped to his feet. Her soul reached out with both arms. The White Ones walked up to her image and took it by the hands. He fell to his knees in despair when they did not even look at him.
He dived full length to try and come between them. His efforts proved in vain. He passed straight through them and hit the ground.
They stopped, and Antonia turned to look at him. “It is my time to go, Andrei,” she said, offering him the warmest smile. “Do not be sad.”
He fell back on his haunches. His heart ached. He needed her so badly.
“Do what you must do,” she said. “And then come to me. I shall be waiting.” She smiled and blew him a kiss. “I love you.” Then she turned towards the light.
With that, her soul disappeared and the brilliant light and the White Ones were gone. He dragged himself back over to where her body lay alone on the blanket. Lying down beside her, he pulled it over them both. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close and cried.
By late morning, the camp came to life. Andrei’s sons stood around and chatted while their wives began cooking the first meal of the day. The younger children ran about, wrapped up in their warmest clothes. Some of them played too close to Andrei’s tent. They belonged to Gabriel, the youngest of his sons.
“Come away from there,” he scolded them.
The eldest of the brothers, Mihail, turned to him. “Mama and Papa should have risen long ago. They never sleep this late.”
“Do you think something is wrong?” Gabriel asked.
“They are old,” Petre said, in a half laugh. “Leave them in peace.”
Mihail did not accept that. “When have you not seen Mama walking around the camp before any of us?”
He was right. She almost always emerged from her tent before any of the others. Gabriel’s wife overheard them talking. “It is worrying us too,” she said. “Someone should go and check on them.”
“I shall do it,” Mihail said.
He walked over to their tent. “Mama? Papa? Are you awake?”
When he did not receive an answer, he called them again. For the second time, there was no response. His brothers saw his worried expression.
“Go inside,” Simon said.
Mihail ducked down and opened the flap. He saw the shape of his parents beneath their blanket. “Mama? Papa? It is late. Have you not woken yet?”
Andrei raised his head to see his son inside his tent. At once, Mihail knew something was wrong. “What is it, Papa?”
He cleared his throat to answer him. “Mama is gone,” he cried, his voice broken as well as his heart.
Mihail dropped to his knees. His grief was instant. Mama is gone? He could not even grasp the concept of it, let alone the reality.
Andrei pulled the blanket away from her face. He wiped his eyes and gazed down at her. “Even in death, she is beautiful,” he said with pride.
“Are you well, Papa?” Mihail managed to ask.
Andrei smiled at him. “Yes, my son, I am well. She devoted her entire life to me, to us. Few are as fortunate as I have been.”
“She is not gone, Papa,” Mihail said, trying his hardest to be strong for his father and not break down. “Part of her lives on in each one of us.”
“I know,” his father agreed. “We are truly blessed.”
He gently moved the wisps of hair from her face with a finger. “Go back outside,” he said. “I shall join you soon. I need a few more moments alone with your mother.”
Mihail staggered outside and then broke down in tears. His brothers ran straight to his side. They crowded around him, too afraid to look inside the tent.
Raphael grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is it, Brother?”
Mihail looked up at him. He choked, as he tried to speak. “It is Mama.”
“Is she sick?”
“She is gone, Raphael. She has passed over to the other side.”
“And Papa?”
“He wants to remain with her.”
The news crushed them. Few men ever loved a mother the way they loved theirs. When the news reached their wives, they broke down too. They had lost their beloved Antonia, the sweetest and most caring human being any of them had ever known. None of them were prepared for such a thing, and it devastated them all.
Inside the tent, Andrei laid his wife out on the blankets. He dressed her in her prettiest clothes and brushed her long grey hair. His loved ones continued to grieve outside. None of them would enter the tent until they saw their father emerge.
“There, my darling,” Andrei said, smiling at her. “Your boys can come and say their farewells. You are as beautiful as the day we married. I shall love you always.”
He gave her one long final kiss. “Wait for me, and help guide me if you can. I shall be with you soon once more.”
His sons stepped forward when they saw him emerge. They ran to comfort him, and all six of them embraced him together. They cried as one, and hugged each other hard. Their wives stood back and watched, each lost in their own grief.
“Go and say farewell to your mother,” Andrei said. “I am going to walk for
a time. I need to find a spot for her. One that she would have loved.”
He left them and went on his way. It had turned into a beautiful day, and spring was in the air. All around him, he saw the first flowers. On the trees, the buds had begun to open. It painted the fields and woods nearby with an array of pretty colours. He only wished she could be with him to see it all.
Rabbits jumped in and out of the bushes either side of the path. Seeing them, restored a smile to his face. A butterfly gave a little dance in front of him, and then landed on his sleeve for a moment. Antonia had loved them. She liked nothing better than to roam the fields in search of the many varieties.
It crawled all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He felt a gentle rush of air on his face as it flapped its pretty orange wings. When it flew off again, he followed its path. It led him to a lovely spot close to a riverbank. He took it as a sign from her.
“Oh, Antonia,” he said, the tears rolling down his cheeks once more. “I can see why you would want to be here.”
He showed the spot to his sons, and they liked it too. It faced south. A large rock marked the area behind them. To their right stood a grove of trees that had sprouted on the riverbank. The grass they stood upon was a lush green. In front of them, the river flowed peacefully along from east to west towards a Danube tributary.
“She should be happy here,” Simon said. “It is a quiet spot.”
“Yes,” Gabriel agreed, his voice barely audible over the sound of the nearby water. He could not stem the flow of tears. “She shall be at peace.”
“It is where she wants to be,” their father said. “And it is where I would like each of you to rest when the day comes.”
“But we could be anywhere, Papa,” Mihail said.
“Then promise me,” he said, in as firm a voice as he could manage. “When one of you passes over, the rest of you must bring your deceased brother here. Promise me that.”
They did not understand his request, but made the promise to appease him.
“And what of you, Papa?” Petre asked.
“I am going to Rome. That shall be my final resting place.”
ROME PROVINCE. THE PINCIAN HILL TO THE NORTH OF THE CITY OF ROME.
JUNE, 1502.
Andrei looked down on the vast metropolis that was Rome. His horse snorted and stamped its hoof into the ground. It had been a long journey, and both man and beast welcomed its end. Antonia would have loved this view. He looked up at the sky. Evening had drawn in, and dark hues of purple and amber blended in with the blue. “I shall not be much longer, my love,” he said.
He patted the horse on the side of the neck. “Rest easy, boy,” he said, in a soothing tone. “We can both do with the rest.”
The horse snorted again when he turned the animal around. Only a short time ago, he had spotted a good place to spend the night. There was always a risk sleeping outside while so close to such a big city. His was a fine horse, and any thief passing by would covet it. He did not let it worry him too much. From birth, he had been on one long journey, but one that was soon to draw to a close. He rode back and laid out his bed. The animal settled soon after him, close to his side.
Andrei thought of his last moments with Antonia. The memory of her always brought a smile to his face. He missed her so much. Yet he knew he had much to thank God for. By His grace, they had enjoyed a life filled with love and happiness. Theirs was a love so fine, it would live on long after they had left this world.
He cast his mind back to her burial.
TRANSYLVANIA.
ANTONIA’S BURIAL PLACE, NEAR CLUJ.
MARCH, 1502.
HIS sons carried her to the spot he had chosen for her. He kissed her one last time before they laid her in the ground.
The women and children formed a tearful group close by. The grownup children stood and watched also. Only Antonia’s sons took an active role.
Andrei gave his wife a long and touching eulogy. At times, he had to pause for his tears to subside. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do. His boys gathered around him to offer comfort and their support. They helped him get through it as best they could.
The others sloped off to leave him and his sons alone. He had to look away when they filled in her grave. It was the moment that made it final. She was truly gone.
“Her goodness shows even in how she named each of you,” he said.
“What is that, Papa?” a teary Mihail asked him.
“She named you all after the Archangels and the greatest of the saints.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That was Mama.”
Andrei sighed from the grief he felt inside. “She was one of a kind.”
“When are you leaving for Rome?”
The others stood around when they heard their brother pose the question.
“Before nightfall.”
His answer shocked them.
“Why so soon, Papa?” Gabriel asked.
“The sooner the better,” his father said. “It is something I must do before I die.”
“For what purpose?”
“There is great evil in the world, which has to be destroyed. I was born to do it, or at least, to set the process in motion.”
“You are going there for that?”
“Yes, Simon. The pope has to know.”
“And what then?” Gabriel asked him. “Shall you return to us?”
He looked to the youngest of his sons. “No, my son. I shall not return.”
“Then, where shall you go?”
“To join your Mama. She is waiting for me.”
“Then we should escort you there,” Mihail said.
“No,” Andrei firmly rebuked him. “You are the head of this family once I go. You and your brothers must remain here and watch over your loved ones.”
“But, Papa. It is a long and dangerous journey.”
“It is my final word. I go alone.”
“Any manner of plight could befall you,” Petre cut in.
“God is travelling at my side. I should be safe.”
“And could this great evil you speak of not try to halt your progress? What then?”
“If it could see me, yes, but my defences are strong.”
“Why do you want us buried here?” Raphael asked, speaking for the first time.
“Because the key to destroying this evil lies within all seven of us.”
“The way we repelled him that night? The seven of us together?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“How, Papa?”
“Long after you are all in the ground, one shall come to find you. That is why you must all be buried here.”
They nodded that they understood.
“It does not end there. In your lifetime, you brothers must form a covenant that shall live on after you.”
“What do you mean, Papa?” Mihail asked.
“One shall come to you in time, to guide you. Our bloodline is essential to defeat this great evil in the world. That is as much as I know.”
They each had a dozen questions they wanted to ask, but they could sense their father did not have the answers they sought.
“I must go,” Andrei said, before any of them could pursue the matter.
“You have not even packed any rations, Papa,” Simon said.
“Nor your bedding,” Ioan pointed out.
“Then do it for me. I want a moment alone with your mother before I leave.”
They left him alone. As soon as they were out of sight, they talked of his leaving.
“We cannot allow him to travel alone,” Simon said.
“It is his wish,” Mihail reminded him.
“I do not care. Any manner of fate could befall him on those roads.”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Mama has passed on, and Papa does not have a clear mind.”
“Then who wants to do it?” Mihail asked them. “We cannot all go.”
“I shall,” Simon volunteered. “I am the strongest of us.”
“And
I,” Ioan piped up.
“And a third?” Mihail asked the others.
Gabriel nodded to accept the decisions of his brothers. “I shall go, too.”
“Very well. Wait till Papa leaves, and then follow.”
Andrei had prepared his horse while his sons dug Antonia’s grave. He had left it in the nearby grove for this moment. With tears filling his eyes again, he crouched down beside the grave and laid some flowers. “I must go, my love. Our boys shall only follow me, if I do not. Watch over them. I shall be with you soon.”
After a while, his sons began to wonder about him.
“Papa is a long time,” Simon said.
“Leave him,” Mihail warned. “He is saying farewell to Mama.”
“Well, his horse is ready,” Ioan pointed out.
“As are ours,” Gabriel cut in. “I am going to check on him.”
It was not long before he ran back to the camp. “He is gone! Papa is gone!”
“What? Check the horses,” Mihail told Simon.
Simon checked on them. He looked dismayed when he joined his brothers again. “There is one missing. He has left.”
“Then I am riding after him!” Gabriel shouted.
“As am I,” Ioan said. “Simon?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I am coming.”
“You shall not catch him,” Mihail advised them. “That is why he did this.”
“I am still going,” Gabriel asserted.
“He does not want you to.”
“We have agreed on this. I am going after him.”
Andrei rode as hard as he could until dark, knowing his sons would pursue him. Once he had crossed the border into Hungary, he eased off. His body could no longer take the pounding of a prolonged hard ride. His three sons rode hard to catch him. When night came and still they saw no sign of him, it gave them a dilemma.
“We should turn back,” Ioan suggested.
“You can, if you wish,” Gabriel said.
“We are not going to catch him, Gabriel.”
“How long can he ride like this? He is old.”
Simon too doubted they would catch him. “I imagine he is not even using this road. We could ride a thousand miles, and never see him.”
The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood Page 23
