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Letter from Erhard Ferdinand Pradl to Count Dragonneau
Warasdin, 7th of March
Most esteemed Count Dragonneau,
I hope I am not intruding upon what is, after all, your time of convalescence. I have come across a rather interesting problem, and would dearly like to consult a man of intelligence and learning such as yourself. I am therefore writing to announce that I should like to use your kind invitation to visit you in Topliss, and intend to take the liberty of calling on you tomorrow. If this should not be convenient, please, let me know; as a doctor myself, I understand the needs of those suffering from an illness take precedence over the whims of us blessed with robust health.
With my greatest respect,
Erhard Ferdinand Pradl
[at the bottom, wide hand, black ink]
The sooner we see him, the sooner we’ll be rid of him. Accept.
V.D.
Excerpt from the diary of M. Bordchamp
THE GOOD DOCTOR visited us today. He is still as pompous as he was when we first met him in the coach. I really do not like the mores of the Austrians. On the other hand, I should probably be happy that he is so silly: he is here to find vampires, and I would not like it if he were better at it. I suspect he would like the consequences even less, although I have yet to see my master do anything truly reprehensible. Maybe he still hides things from me.
The doctor asked a few general questions regarding the Count’s health and the spa, then turned the conversation to the subject of his work. He told us very little about the story that had brought him here—I think he was uncertain as to how much he could trust his source—but he had also done some research which, in his view, showed that this part of the world had long suffered from vampire infestations. That was the exact word he used. I couldn’t help but glance at the Count at that moment, but he merely lifted an eyebrow, as if he was trying to decide between scepticism and amusement. When the doctor claimed he could prove it, he was cordially invited to do so.
Thus, with much excitement, he told us a story about the first vampire recorded in these parts. The man allegedly died, but kept returning to pester his neighbours, even demanding marital congress from his wife. In the end, the people from his village gathered and killed him, led by their parish priest. The Count listened to the story carefully—the doctor was all excited about it, since he’d found it in a book by a man so respected as a scientist, he was even made a member of the British Royal Geographical Society—but at length merely shook his head.
“The man may have been very good when it came to describing rocks, but I’m afraid, my friend, that he wasn’t equally gifted when it comes to common sense.”
“What do you mean?” asked the Austrian doctor.
“Let us look at the evidence you have presented,” said the Count. “This alleged vampire knocked on the doors of his neighbours in the middle of the night, and usually someone died soon after. Is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“For sixteen years? How strange would it be if no one died in a village for sixteen years?”
“Well, yes—” started the doctor, but the Count didn’t let him continue.
“And if you were raised on such a story, as children of the village undoubtedly were, would you resist the temptation to knock on doors now and then?”
“I should hope—”
“Let us be honest, Herr Doktor. Perhaps you were indeed the paragon of virtue at the age of twelve, but I know that I certainly wasn’t. And in a village, where youth has little imagination and even less scope for it? Come on. The knocking was either the natural sound of old wood, or else tasteless youthful mischief.” The Count smiled and settled more comfortably in his chair. He’d received the doctor sitting at his desk, with me by his side prepared to finish the conversation should he feel so inclined, but now he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Now, for the second point: when they opened the grave, they saw a body that seemed to be laughing at them. Correct?”
“Yes.” The Austrian dragged the syllable out, expecting what was coming.
“You are a doctor yourself. You must have seen dead bodies in the course of your education. At least a skeleton.”
“I did, but—”
“You know, then, that we all end up laughing in death, do you not?”
The poor man was by now quite disheartened. “Of course.” He sighed. “But wouldn’t they also have noticed that it was a rotting body they saw?”
“In the middle of the cemetery, when they have already come prepared to deal with a monster?” The Count shook his head slightly. “Do you know so little of people?”
“I thought we were living in the Age of Enlightenment.”
“We are,” said the Count. “But those peasants in the middle of nowhere, almost a hundred years ago?”
The Austrian had no response to this, but the Count was not yet finished. “And as for the monster looking for his wife’s affection… obviously, someone saw a man sneaking out of her house. What better protection than to claim she was being pestered by her dead husband? The woman was clearly having an affair.”
“But she was widowed… if she wanted, she was free to marry again.”
“You truly are young, my friend. What reason do you have to think her lover was also free?” Seeing the doctor’s shocked face, the Count added, “Widows are women with too much time on their hands. Dangerous creatures.”
The doctor left soon after this—a little shaken, I think, but still determined to conduct a thorough investigation. When he left, I expressed my admiration for the way in which the Count had torn down the ‘vampire’ story.
“Oh, the story is true,” said the Count casually. “I’ve even met the gentleman once—if I can call him that. He was a coarse, uncouth soul with no idea of discretion.”
“But how did he become a vampire?” I asked.
“He had been turned by... another vampire.” Unexpectedly, a tiny frown appeared on his usually clear brow. “An irresponsible creature, who turned a peasant to cover his own tracks.”
“Cover his tracks?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of something that would make a vampire flee. “What was he running from?”
The answer was simple.
“Me.”
Inserted after the page is the following note:
I, Marcel Bordchamp, do hereby attest that on the 8th day of March 1746, I have, on behalf of my employer, Count Dragonneau, taken possession of the dog, Garo, a trained bloodhound, from Josip Raukar, villager of the Topliss parish, who raised said dog and trained it in hunting. I promise to return the dog, unharmed and unspoiled, within the next three days. Should I fail to do so, I agree to pay the price of 46 Kr., separate from the monies already paid.
[signed, left]
Marcel Bordchamp
[signed, right]
Josip Raukar
[initialled, bottom left]
V.D.
Continued diary entry on the next page:
After that, I waited for a while, hoping for an explanation, but the Count offered none. Instead, he reminded me that I needed to finalize the arrangements for tomorrow night. As I was leaving, he muttered, “The sooner we end this, the better. It’s been dragging on for far too long.”
This time, I didn’t even wait to see if he would tell me anything. I am learning. I can only hope it will be worth it.
Letter from Father Andreas Toth to Magdalena Hranić
Varaždinske Toplice, 8th of March 1746
Dear Mrs. Hranich,
We seem to have a misunderstanding on our hands. I do not want to be a bother, but I really do feel that the situation, as it is now, cannot be allowed to continue. I am therefore appealing to your better nature, as well as to your common sense, and proposing that we meet to discuss possible solutions. Would it perhaps be agreeable to you to meet at one of your usual outings and try to reach an agreement?
Oh: I hear that the Crimson Lobelia (the Cardinal’s flower, I believe you would call it) sometimes flowers very early in the year, particularly around the area of the little bend in our brook. Perhaps tomorrow’s full moon will coax a few buds? You are, I understand, very knowledgeable on all subjects relating to local flora and I am, alas, but an ignorant priest, if very willing to listen and learn.
Yours in Christ,
Father Andreas Toth
Letter from Bartol Povšić and Father Andreas Toth to Gašpar Katych
Topliss, 8th of March 1746
To: Gašpar Katych, Esq., Magistrate’s Representative for this parish
We the undersigned wish to turn Your attention to the problem of witchcraft in our parish. We have been informed by sources who, from fear of retribution, wish to remain anonymous, that a widow of your parish, a certain Magdalena Hranić (born Jurić), does engage in acts that go against God and Church. Said Magdalena Hranić collects strange herbs from the woods, and has been known to use them to produce unnatural potions, which she then sells or even gives away to women and young girls in the parish. Some of her victims claim the potions ease women’s pains, which is in itself of dubious moral value, since any such pains a woman suffers must indeed be part of her atonement for the Original Sin; but it has also been claimed that said widow Hranić can produce potions that will make it harder for a woman to become with child, or get rid of one while carrying it.
Furthermore, one witness, when confronted, admitted she had purchased from said widow Hranić a potion that would, if ingested in wine and during the Moon’s waning, make a young man’s blood boil with desire for the one who provided him with it. In addition to this, we have had reports saying that widow Hranić often leaves her house at night. Whither she goes, we know not, but an honest woman would not use the cover of darkness for her business, so it can reasonably be surmised that she is attending a witches’ coven or consorting with the Serpent. In view of all this, we also cannot help but wonder whether the death of said widow’s husband, Matko Hranić, although seemingly by accident, when he drowned in the brook, could not have been brought about in some magical manner.
In view of this, we appeal to You in the hope that You will condescend to take prompt action and investigate the case. We propose that You join us tomorrow night in secretly following said widow, to see whether the allegations of her leaving the house at an unseemly hour are correct, after which You will certainly have a sound basis for Your decision.
With the expressions of our most humble respect,
Bartol Povšić, burgher of this parish,
Father Andreas Toth, pastor of this parish
Letter from Erhard Ferdinand Pradl to Anneliese Lehner
Topliss, 9th of March
Dearest Liesel,
I am now completely convinced that something strange is going on here, but let me start from the beginning. As I told you in my previous letter, I went to consult Count Dragonneau regarding the possible vampiric situation in these parts. I told him the story of the first sighting in the wider region, which I had found in a much-respected book on the Crain, yet he dismissed it as part invention, part misinterpretation of facts. Now, I am aware that some, perhaps even many people doubt the existence of vampires, but the author of this book, Johannes Weickhard Valvasor, was a member of several renowned institutions of philosophia naturalis, and remains widely respected. It only goes to show one cannot judge anyone on short acquaintance: the Count is perhaps well-read, and is certainly well-bred, but in some ways, he is definitely behind the times.
After the Count, I spoke to Katych again. He has received a very strange letter indeed, from the local priest and some burgher. These two men claim that one of the local women is a witch. There have been quite a few cases of witchcraft documented in this area, so it would not be particularly strange, but it does seem too much of a coincidence that a witch should be spotted so soon after the events Katych had previously related. It seems only natural to suppose there is a connection between the two. Because of this, I have arranged to accompany Katych on the fact-finding mission that the letter proposed. So, my sweet, to-night, I shall participate in what might be a real, actual witch-hunt!
I shall confess to you (and only to you—you are not to mention this to anyone!) that I feel a certain amount of trepidation at the prospect. I have read some accounts of witch-trials, and the deeds described therein are indeed gruesome. Add to that the hair-rising story that Katych himself had told me, and you shall understand why my heart is uneasy. But at the same time—for such are the vagaries of the human heart—I am excited. I came here, to be completely honest with you, fully expecting that I should do nothing more strenuous or interesting than supervise the unearthing of a grave or two. As things now stand, before I return to Vienna, I shall have amassed experience with all manner of supernatural creatures, and—I am only starting to dream of the possibility now—perhaps even claim one of the rewards offered for confirmed cases of vampirism.
Having read Valvasor’s account of the conflict with the vampire, I armed myself with the largest cross I have in my possession. Perhaps you remember it: it is the one my Mother bought on her pilgrimage to Mariazell, that has been blessed by the Archabbot himself, directly before the sacred image that is said to work miracles. Katych is also going armed, with both sabre and musket. I hope that the parish priest will remember to bring holy water, as it seems that it has some effect on vampires, and it is supposed to burn witch-skin. Thus equipped, we shall wait for nightfall, and watch the alleged witch’s house. Should she leave it—it seems she is given to night-time excursions—we shall follow her, and see what she does. Katych had shot his monster; perhaps she is nursing it back to health? I am almost afraid to hope for such luck. Imagine finding a vampire weakened enough to be captured and studied at leisure! Wouldn’t that be something to bring to Vienna?
Of course, maybe this whole story will turn out to be nothing, just a lonely woman walking in the night or meeting with a completely mortal lover, for I am aware that some cases of witchcraft have been proven to spring from sheer jealousy. Thus, my dearest Liesel, wish me luck tonight, and remember me in your prayers.
Hoping I will live to kiss your sweet hands again, I remain, as ever, yours
Erhard Ferdinand Pradl,
vampire- and witch-hunter
Report to the Gentlemen’s Bird Appreciation & Observation Association, Topliss
Joint report on observations pertaining to the night of 9th to 10th of March, 1746, as made by Antun Sustar and Stjepan Novak, both members of the Association of good standing.
All times recorded according to the clock on the church tower.
Left respective houses at: about 5.30 p.m., met at road.
Arrived at Park at: about 6.00 p.m.
Observation time: about 3 hours (effectively, followed by unexpected events)
Birds observed:
Common nightingale
Scops Owl
Remarks:
After some 3 hours of careful observations, we were about to call it a night. I (Antun Sustar) tried to convince my companion to stay a bit longer, hoping that my Siberian Fish Owl would return. As we had been keeping vigil nightly for seven days now with no unusual sightings, Štef was not willing, and we argued a little, after which he agreed to stay a bit longer, but no more than a quarter of an hour. This interval being close to passing, Štef said he would wait no longer and got up to go, and just at that moment, my Owl flew out of the woods. It sped over our heads, then turned in the air and started back towards the woods, only to disappear completely from our sights. We looked at each other, and without superfluous words started running in the direction in which the huge bird had flown.
Once in the woods, we lost our way and wandered for a while in the darkness, when we heard some sort of commotion over on the side towards the brook. We started towards it, but made little progress before a veritable pandemonium broke out, as if each and every bird in the
woods had woken up at the same moment and taken flight in panic. Nightingales and common sparrows criss-crossed the sky, whizzing under the wings of magpies and tawny owls. Impossible, yes, but we saw it!
We clung to each other, filled with fear, as the frantic flapping of wings surrounded us and distraught birds cried all around us. Just as inexplicably as it had begun, in a moment or two, the pandemonium settled. In the sudden calm we heard the single cry of an osprey, and then the woods fell silent again.
After that, we decided it was very late indeed, time to go home and get to bed. We did so immediately, crossing through the woods to make our journey shorter.
We are now both convinced that an unexpectedly large bird does indeed live or has at least made its temporary home in our woods, and see no further need for nightly watches. Lojzi can say whatever he wants, we know the truth.
Antun Sustar,
merchant of this parish
Stjepan Novak,
boot maker of this parish
Letter from Magdalena Hranić’s effects
My love,
Of all the stories I never expected to tell you, of all the things I never expected to write, what happened tonight is definitely the strangest.
You know, as I write these letters, I always have the same image of you in my head: I see you reading by moonlight, sitting in that attic room you had while you were apprenticed to Master Žiga, chewing on an empty pipe and laughing at the silly things that pass through my mind. This is how I want to remember you, always—young, and handsome, and happy. And this is why I will stop writing to you after this letter. I have a feeling, irrational as it may be, that, if I continue, you will grow old with me, and fade away, and I do not want you to. Not if we can’t do it together. I will go on, because I have to. But you can stay forever the dashing apprentice printer who first captivated my heart. That manner of eternal youth, no matter how painful for me, is infinitely better than the other kind. I would not take that from you, so I shall leave you here.
Dracula Page 15
