The Devil and the Red Ribbon

by Theo Rion

  “So your victory is always somebody’s merit.”

  “Kurt, don’t contrive the talk about victory over yourself; it is boring and tedious. If our life was about victory over ourselves, we would have been born in the bubbles, without the possibility to contact with each other. But it’s not like that.” John wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’m not afraid to lose, Kurt, but humility isn’t in my nature. And victory for me is only a matter of time. It is a prey for me; I’m a hunter. By the way, you as a psychologist should appreciate this.” John laughed. “But I also like the real hunt.”

  “And why do you like it?”

  “In the hunt, there’s a time to wait, and there’s a time to act. I don’t know anything that could be more useful in life.” He smiled. “Fox hunting season will open next week. This year I’d like you to take part.”

  “I have other plans,” said Kurt and put knife and fork on the plate.

  “What plans?”

  “Something not associated with killing animals, or with you.”

  “Are you aggrieved?”

  “Not at all.”

  “So, it is the end of the matches?”

  “I think so,” Kurt said after a short pause.

  “Learnt everything you wanted about me, have you?”

  “And even what I didn’t want.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Is there any sense in disappointment?”

  “I don’t know.” John leaned back in his chair. “I’m not suggesting a match, unless you want to accept one. It’s just hunting, a part of my life, where you haven’t been yet.”

  “John, I’m not sure if I want to be in any part of your life anymore.”

  “You’re obviously aggrieved,” John said and shook his head.

  “You see no difference between grievance and disappointment. Do you know why? Grievance stresses attachment, disappointment breaks the connection. You don’t like to look at the back of the one who leaves. Therefore, you want me to be aggrieved.”

  “And you’re still disappointed?”

  Kurt smiled again and didn’t answer his question.

  “I invite you, as a friend, as a person who saved me from the gallows. Does this invitation satisfy you? Note that I ask you.” John looked at him askance.

  Kurt smiled slightly. “So be it, I’ll accept your invitation, although I’ve never really been interested in hunting.”

  “Excellent. You’ve already packed your things, so I will give them to my groom.”

  “What?” Kurt was surprised.

  “I hunt at my other manor.”

  As John spoke, a fleeting expression flashed in his gaze, but Kurt didn’t have time to grasp its essence. It somewhat alarmed him. Nevertheless, he was game. “Fine.” He nodded.

  * * * *

  Early the following morning, when the sun was reluctantly rising above the horizon, Kurt was awakened by the sound of the hunting horn. By the time he rose and dressed, John was waiting for him downstairs in the coach. Kurt took a seat across from him, and they set off for John’s country manor.

  At first they were silent. Then John suddenly moved to Kurt’s side.

  “What are you—?”

  Kurt didn’t have time to finish, as John kissed him. And what happened to Kurt at this moment was a big surprise for him. No, he didn’t push John away; he didn’t even try.

  The folder, where he had buried all his records about John, suddenly flew out of the dark corner of the shelf, and papers circled the room like snowflakes. And the lady in red enmeshed Kurt, who was sitting in the chair, with red ribbons, but he felt only bliss.

  The biggest surprise for Kurt was that his disappointment suddenly turned into a shadow of resentment that he was ready to forgive. At this point, Kurt understood. His amorousness had been reborn. It was an insignificant chrysalis from which the love now appeared, and it could not be taken for anything else.

  “I didn’t thank you for my salvation,” John said quite seriously, releasing Kurt.

  “It was the most reckless and foolish act that only you could make!” Kurt thawed out; his feelings again streamed as a river, and it was even hard to imagine that until recently he thought that he had cooled down. Passion ignited in his chest again. He hadn’t come all this way in vain! He had done everything right. John’s soul didn’t seem like a fortress anymore. Kurt saw doors thrown open hospitably for him. He just needed to overcome the last distance between them. “Can you even imagine how it could end for you and me?”

  John smiled kindly. “I’m pleased you’re worried about me.”

  Kurt was a bit confused. “I don’t—”

  “Admit it; life without our matches is boring. The people around us are faceless,” John said and leaned back in his seat. “You’re probably the first person in a long, long time whose face I remember before I break it.”

  “You didn’t break my face.”

  “It’s not over yet,” John laughed. His laugh didn’t have an element of anger or even irony. He laughed genuinely, with his head thrown back.

  Kurt smiled. This time he didn’t resist and let a swirl of emotion grab him. He allowed himself to feel a sense of connection and unity with John.

  Their journey was long. They stopped at a roadside tavern to eat and relax—the shaking of the carriage tired them both. But Kurt didn’t complain; the journey was pleasant. On the way, they talked or they kept silent, and Kurt liked both. Kurt had never spent so much time with John before.

  John was surprisingly good-natured and talkative, and in silence he was quiet and thoughtful, and the silence wasn’t a burden. John easily picked up the themes proposed by Kurt, and Kurt skillfully revealed the threads started by John. It was like they were old friends, and in each other’s company, they found not just enjoyable, but especially comfortable, interaction. There was no misunderstandings, cold alienation or ambiguity.

  In a roadside inn called Saracen’s Head, where they stopped, there were few visitors. The hostess, seeing respectable guests, began to set the table. Kurt walked down the hall and sat in a chair by the fire, stretching his stiff legs. From the pleasant warmth, he became sleepy. In another chair a young lady sat. Kurt immediately straightened up, but it seemed the girl was lost in her thoughts and didn’t seem to care about Kurt’s presence.

  A boy servant approached her. “Excuse me, miss, but I could not find it.”

  The girl looked at him with pity and at the same time with a sense of offense, but nodded. The boy was gone, and she turned to the fireplace. She seemed amazingly beautiful to Kurt. Her face was framed by dark curly hair, her expressive blue eyes gleamed with sadness, and all of her image projected a lyrical and tender aura. Kurt mentally recreated her portrait inside his mind. At this moment, John approached. He immediately noticed the lady, and Kurt became alert. Despite the pleasantness between them on the way here, John’s nature remained unchanged. And that meant the figures on the board had already been placed, or did it only seem so to Kurt?

  “The weather’s getting worse,” John said to Kurt. “I think we have to stay here for the night, otherwise we can get stuck somewhere in the middle of the night.”

  “Well, you know best,” Kurt agreed. John handed him the key to the room. He seemed to be waiting for something. Kurt suspected John wanted him to leave, but Kurt worried about the fate of an innocent girl, who had appeared in John’s view, so Kurt didn’t want to leave them alone. He made himself comfortable in his chair and looked at the fire again. With his whole appearance, he tried to make it clear to John he didn’t intend to go anywhere. The situation was resolved when the girl left, and John immediately took her place. They were silent for a while. The fire crackled in the fireplace, and it wrapped the room in pleasant warmth. Kurt even dreamt a little. It surprised him. Earlier the intimacy with John had caused him to be alert every moment. And now sweet languor caught his mind and body. Oddly enough, when John was sitting very close, obviously languid from the heat, Kurt allowed himself to r
elax.

  The hostess set the table and invited the gentlemen to supper. Kurt gladly accepted her invitation, though John didn’t show much enthusiasm, but sat down at the table. The food wasn’t exactly exquisite, but Kurt found it quite decent; John almost didn’t eat. Vague doubts began to creep into Kurt’s soul. John’s behavior was very different from the usual, and Kurt didn’t know why.

  It’s not because of the kiss, Kurt thought, wondering if they were going to where John said. What if all this was a trap? Perhaps, he had surrendered his vigilance too quickly? However, Kurt wasn’t going to run away.

  After dinner, he went for a walk. The weather, however, had gotten worse, it was raining. At the entrance, where a single lamp burned, a coachman unharnessed horses. They were neighing, pawing the dirt with their hooves. And suddenly, in the dim light of the lantern, something glittered. Kurt went closer and picked up a gold medallion. It contained a portrait of a family painted on a pink background—a mother, a father and their daughter. The young lady in the portrait seemed familiar to Kurt. He quickly figured out who owned this medallion. Wrapping it in his handkerchief, Kurt hid it in his pocket and returned to the tavern. The hostess had already cleared the table. There were more people in the living room, so Kurt approached the servant boy.

  “Tell me, young man, where is the young lady who gave you the order today?”

  “On the second floor,” the boy said, sniffing. “The last door.”

  “Thank you,” Kurt replied politely and walked up the stairs. His room was on the second floor too, but Kurt walked past it. John suddenly emerged from the next door. Kurt immediately slipped the wrapped medallion back into his pocket.

  “Where have you been?” John asked.

  “I went for a walk,” answered Kurt.

  “I thought we might go down to the living room and play poker.”

  “I’m very tired,” Kurt said and shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

  “I wonder where you think you’re going to sleep.” John laughed.

  “What?” As if Kurt didn’t understand and looked at his keys. “Ah, this is my room.” He smiled somewhat awkwardly. “I forgot the number.”

  Deciding it would be better if he returned the medallion tomorrow, Kurt turned and walked to his room. He could also leave it with the hostess in the morning.

  Kurt undressed and got into bed. The street was dark; the rain intensified and was banging on the window and the roof, lulling Kurt to sleep. He dreamed of roads on which they were travelling; he heard hoof beats; he saw the girl sitting by the fireplace, and John’s eyes, full of predatory ardor.

  Chapter 15

  In the morning, Kurt was awakened by insistent knocking on his bedroom door.

  “Just a minute,” Kurt said, but the door opened immediately. John came into the room.

  “No time to sleep,” John grinned, watching Kurt get out of bed.

  “What’s the rush?” Kurt asked, a little embarrassed by John’s unexpected appearance.

  “Travel itself doesn’t bring me any pleasure, so I want to get to where the real fun begins as quickly as possible.”

  “Well, I think that road has its charm.”

  “You won’t catch me espousing that philosophy, Kurt. Come on!” John said demandingly.

  Kurt wanted to object, to ask where his breakfast was, and indeed he needed to shake off the feeling of sleep, but Kurt dismissed it all. He was going to get up, but he didn’t want to obey John.

  “John, I need to get dressed,” Kurt said calmly. “I don’t want to embarrass anyone with my appearance, so you’ll have to wait. And it will be better if you don’t distract me.” He looked at John, waiting. John grinned, nodded and walked back out the door, closing it behind him.

  Kurt quickly freshened up and went into the living room where the hostess had set breakfast for him. Kurt was surprised to find he had no appetite, but still he ate quickly and thanked the hostess.

  John turned out to be surprisingly patient. All the time he was waiting for Kurt in the coach. When he finally took his place, and the coach had already moved off, the girl appeared on the porch. Kurt remembered he had seen her yesterday. He suddenly remembered and wanted to shout to the coachman to stop, and he reached into his pocket, when she unexpectedly waved and smiled.

  “Thank you very much, John!” she exclaimed, bursting into a blush, and smiled. Kurt didn’t shout to the coachman, and the coach drove away from the inn. Kurt’s hand already reached for his jacket pocket, where he had left the medallion. The pocket was empty, and Kurt looked at John. A smile was hiding in his eyes, but not too diligently. Frisky lights danced in his eyes, while he kept a straight face, looking out the window of the coach. Kurt tensed. He had a choice to make. However, he hadn’t been ready for this.

  John finally turned to him and looked into his eyes. He was waiting. Kurt knew what he was expecting. A reaction. He was waiting for Kurt’s words, facial expressions, eye expressions—everything that could clearly say what was in his heart. The game started again, and Kurt realized he had lost this con. On his face was bewilderment and confusion. He seemed to be back to the very beginning of their relationship, when he had started to pick up the keys to John Fenririr’s disposition, and yet John was able to catch him off guard.

  The main thing is not to give him a second chance, Kurt thought and looked away. He thought he should start a conversation, but could not. He was depressed by the thought of his ridiculous defeat.

  What is John trying to tell me by this: I’m still ahead of you? I know you and see through you? Everything is the same between us? Or that it was too early to decide I had solved John? And I wonder what if I get caught again in the illusion cleverly arranged by John?

  At noon they arrived at the house of John Fenririr. John, however, hadn’t mentioned it was an old castle. Kurt had seen quite a few in his time, but he had never been inside one. Castles had an amazing atmosphere. They were attractive, but at the same time, frightening.

  As though catching Kurt’s mood, John suddenly said, “My father bought this castle as a gift to my mother when she bore me. Unfortunately, she never came here. This castle has a very rich history. I hope you’re not afraid of ghosts, Kurt?” John smiled.

  “I’m not afraid of what I don’t believe in. And I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Yet.” John laughed and invited Kurt to come inside. John had sent servants ahead of him a few days ago, so everything was ready to receive them. Fire burned in the fireplaces, and the furniture was freed from the shrouds in which the pieces had been wrapped. The cook hosted in the kitchen and was ready to satisfy all the demands of the John and his guest.

  Kurt looked around. He was amazed by the strange feeling that arose inside him as soon as he crossed the threshold. The castle seemed to be dead, and yet bustling servants breathed life into it, like a bellows. But its heart had stopped beating a long time ago. The castle was luxurious, but wasn’t alive. It didn’t have what every family home has—a feeling of true comfort and warmth. Kurt felt he was becoming sentimental again and pulled himself together.

  John acted as a good host; he was gladly showing the rooms to Kurt, telling stories that he had heard from his father, and at dinner he told the castle’s foremost legend.

  “This castle belonged to a young earl. This earl was a friend with the lord who was of the same age. Many people even considered them to be brothers so close a friendship they had. Then, one day the lord decided to marry. He was an enviable groom, with rank and status, and he was very good-looking. But his fiancée went missing the day before the wedding. People, of course, were thrilled by this story, and the groom was inconsolable. The people made some noise and then calmed down. But then the next bride of the young lord disappeared, and the next one after that.

  After the fifth missing bride, there was no longer any parent who would let him woo his daughter, and the lord thought that doom was over him. He decided not to tempt fate anymore. To ove
rcome all these hardships he was helped by his best friend, the earl, whom the lord had treated with loving devotion and reverence all his life. However, it became clear it was the earl who had abducted all the brides and walled them up in the castle’s walls. In a locked room with no windows, they knew neither the sun nor the moon, and went mad from hunger, loneliness and despair, and eventually died.”

  “Why did the earl do this?”

  “Because of love,” John replied simply, as if it were as clear as day.

  “Love?”

  “Of course! He thought that none of these girls were worthy of the lord’s love and attention. He cherished the lord’s friendship and saved him from mistakes in the best way he knew,” John said and smiled.

  “In my opinion, this was pure selfishness and madness on the earl’s part,” Kurt said.

  “Who said that the mad and selfish can’t love?”

  “They can’t, John, they can’t.”

  “Here, I can love; I can kill.” John laughed. Obviously, he was enjoying this conversation.

  “Anyone can kill,” Kurt began judiciously. “You can kill out of hatred, fear…the motivation is always strong, but love, it is quite a different quality. A different nature. So, don’t take any offense, John, but you’ll never love.”

  John paused, staring at Kurt’s face. “And yet, I understand the earl loved the lord, and I understand his love, no matter what you say,” John said.

  Kurt laughed. “Bravo, John, I never thought I’d hear something like that from you!”

  Kurt’s reaction didn’t offend John. He smiled and took a sip from his glass of wine. “All this is true,” he said. “My father knew the value of money, and buying the castle, he didn’t stint. It wasn’t for the walls he paid, Kurt, but for the history. Each thing has its own history. By this one thing differs from another and finds its true value.”

  “You aren’t what you are, you’re what you have been through?”

  “That’s right!” John smiled contently.

  “So, are you longing to leave your mark?”