One final time I crawled off to bed, and for a short time seemed to attain a kind of troubled sleep; but then came a sound that was of my dreams or beside them, I could not tell which: a high keening wail that sounded like some construction process but which soon took on a distinctly human property. As I awoke fully it suddenly ceased, and now I found that I could not regain sleep again.
Finally, unable to obtain the rest I required, I put on my robe and began to wander the castle. I went first up the long flight of steps to the dome, thinking to find refuge from troubled slumber in my work. When I arrived I found an entire group of workers occupied in a most curious task. The gold-plated inside of the dome was covered in what appeared to be a fine red mist which they were methodically wiping clean. But I discovered that it was more of a dust, slightly wet to the touch, and that it seemed well ingrained. The dome top above was partly open, revealing a scattering of dull stars. I sought to question one of the workers about this red dust but he would not answer me, only continuing his task dumbly, and looking as if he wanted to sleep more than anything.
Finding no answer to my questions and scant solace from my surroundings, I now went down into the lower portions of the castle. There seemed to be no one about, but then I nearly stumbled over the servant Franz at the entrance to the back gardens. He seemed very intent, and for the first time since my arrival at Castle Mayhew there was not a beaming smile on his face but rather a watchfulness that did not immediately vanish when he sighted me. He looked less childish, older, even; and there was a wolfish light in his eyes. But then his ebullience seemed to return a bit and he nodded mischievously toward the garden.
I thought he would shy away but he did not, and he remained where he was as I advanced on the entrance.
There, as once before, were Natisha and the Count in an embrace.
Now all the feelings that I had held within me, all the engendered trust and love that Natisha, by her wiles and words, had managed to instill in me, were dashed once and for all. I rose heatedly, seeking to break in upon them and expose this folly, but at that moment they parted. There was such reluctance in that parting—such pain, I thought, and tender feeling—that for a moment even my blind jealousy and sense of betrayal were held at bay. As Natisha melted into the shadows, leaving the Count alone, I watched in mute fascination as his hands suddenly went to his face and he was racked with what I thought must be sobs; but in a moment his erect frame quieted, and when he took his hands from his eyes they were as dry as they had ever been. As he walked from the small circle of moonlight that had illuminated this scene, his head bent, I was so captivated that I failed to rush after him to shout the many denunciations I felt within me. In a moment he had disappeared into a far entrance, back into the castle.
When I turned, the dwarf-jester Franz was gone, and I spent the rest of that night walking like an apparition through the empty corridors of Castle Mayhew, my mind whirling with broken dreams before I finally stumbled to my lonely bed before dawn to find an unhappy and fitful sleep. I dreamed of Natisha, her arms out toward me but then floating past me to embrace the Count, and then being pulled away by some unseen power to fly off into the mist, and through and around these dreams swirled that unearthly high scream...
I awoke sometime the next day, not by the action of my own body but by, of all people, the Count himself. He stood over me, a tall, sad spectre, and for a moment I forgot that he was the author of my misery and nearly rose to ask what he would have me do. But then clarity returned to my mind. As I sought to throw myself from the bed to denounce him he suddenly bent over me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I could have thrown his hands from me; his touch was as light as that of a feather.
"You must leave the castle immediately," he said.
I noticed now how chilled his breath was, and how deeply fathomless his eyes were. They seemed orbs of dead glass rather than living tissue, and his breath the Autumn wind that chills flowers in their final bloom. The fire in his eyes was gone.
"Natisha—" I began, struggling up against him and pushing his hands aside.
"It is she who sends me," he responded, holding me as firmly as he might. "Listen to me. You must forget Natisha and leave Castle Mayhew immediately; if you do not all will be lost for you."
"I saw you in the garden last night," I said in a cold voice.
He stood up very straight and looked out the window to the side of my bed, which gave a view of the sloping grounds to the town below, and, beyond that, the thin blue ribbon of the Murstein River beyond. "I am her father," he said.
This statement proved effective; I lay back upon my pillows with my mouth agape.
"What! But—"
"There is no time for discussions. You must go." He was about to say something further when there came from behind him a low chuckle which rose to a healthy, booming laugh.
"Then in this too I have failed," the Count said.
In the doorway stood Franz, much improved from his appearance the previous evening. Gone were the lines on his face, and the healthy pallor of his skin had returned; once again he was the jolly cherub and he laughed delightedly to see me.
"So happy to see you awake, Herr Begener!" he shouted jovially, coming into the room. "I am happy to tell you that the silver has arrived, and that your final plans are being implemented at this moment. Soon, your job will be completed!" He laughed again, a bright cheerful trill. "Perhaps you would like some breakfast?" He turned to Count Mayhew. "Perhaps you would like to get Herr Begener some breakfast?"
The Count made no move, but merely hung his head.
It now occurred to me just how bright little Franz's eyes were this morning, how taunting, and how sharp the smiling line of his lips was.
"No matter," little Franz continued. "Perhaps you can get Herr Begener something to eat after he has dressed. You would like to join me in the dining hail, Herr Begener?"
I nearly opened my mouth to tell him that I would not countenance his sudden insolence, but something in his tone impelled me to do what he asked. I looked to the Count for guidance but he merely said, "You would do well to follow his instructions."
A few moments toilet found me in presentable condition and I made my way into the dining hall.
It was a dining hall greatly changed. At first the alteration was not apparent; there seemed to be the same furniture, the dining table and other dark furnishings in their accustomed places; but then, suddenly, a chill went up my back as I turned to the fireplace.
For there, over the mantle, hung a portrait—but not the one that had greeted me my first night in Castle Mayhew. Gone was the painting of the tall, spare man who was Natisha's father, and in its place, its somewhat smaller frame showing the dusty outline of the larger portrait that had been removed, hung a stylized, somberly depicted painting of the little man Franz who stood before me laughing.
"You are in the presence of the true Count Mayhew!" he said, throwing his head back and losing himself in his own mirth before continuing. "Don't let the serious expression I wear in that rendering fool you, Herr Begener," he went on, the laugh somewhat dissolving into a cultured, hard tone. "The subject is me." He waved a hand at the painting before turning away to sit down at the long table, which was laden with a late breakfast and from which he now took a lengthy repast. "It was painted by one of my own subjects before he was, ah, called to other tasks. I must admit I rather like it." Again he laughed, and motioned me toward the table.
"You must be hungry," he said, flashing his sharp, pointed smile. "I am not," I said weakly.
"Then sit by all means, for we must talk."
I sat, and was silent, staring at the far wall without seeing it.
"You have done me a great service, Herr Begener," the real Count Mayhew went on, talking as he ate. "And a service for which I am willing to pay a great deal. In fact, I am so happy with your work that I am willing to pay you anything you wish, many times the amount of your commission—if that is what you want."
Ag
ain he flashed his canine smile, wiping his greasy hands on his short robe.
"Natisha," I said weakly, not looking at him.
"That is impossible. I'm afraid she is not," he paused, searching for a phrase that would please him and finally finding one, "available any longer." He laughed wildly for a moment, rolling in his chair like a child with his hands on his pudgy knees, before continuing. "But perhaps I should let her tell you herself. I have been much interested in the course of this true love, and am interested to see where it will lead." He grinned rapaciously and reached for the small servant's bell next to his chair—the same bell I had seen used to summon him so many times these past weeks.
While we waited his face suddenly turned dark and I saw now just how old he really seemed; when the smiles and jolly caperings left his countenance he looked vastly aged. Wrinkles, just held in check, sought to burst forth and he appeared, at this moment, a stunted skeleton covered with layer upon layer of dead fatty skin.
"Perhaps I should tell you," he said, and again for the first time his voice attained something other than mirth; there was almost nobility in it, "that I am a man of my word. I have been so for a thousand years." He did not wait for the effect of this statement on me but went on. "And I offer you now, once only, Herr Begener, this choice. Believe me when I say that Natisha is forever beyond you. And believe me when I say that you may leave this night, only by giving me your wish to do so at this time; and that you will never be troubled by me again. If you do not take this offer at this moment it will forever be withheld, and you will choose instead the consequences." For the briefest amount of time a hint of sadness came to his features, but it was quickly replaced by a wry smile, as if he already knew my answer. "As I said, you have done well for me, and I feel bound to offer you this option."
"Is Natisha dead?" I asked, willing to face anything if she was not.
"Not dead," he answered; "but beyond you nevertheless."
"Is she coming to this room now?"
"She is."
"Then my mind is set; I will stay."
His eyes were upon me intently; and now that I made my answer, one that he had fully intended me to make, he roared with laughter, nearly tumbling off his chair this time before catching and righting himself upon it. He lifted his glass, which obtained a dark wine, and offered me a toast.
"To true love, then, Herr Begener. Only the truly young and truly foolish may enjoy it."
At that moment the door to the dining hall opened, and Natisha's father entered.
For a second I was not sure that it was Natisha that followed him in, so unlike her did she appear, but it was nevertheless she. Her face was nearly white, and her entire body seemed shrunken, drained of energy and life. This was Natisha in old age. Her features very much resembled those of her father now, and I would have had no trouble in marking them as father and daughter had I seen her this way before.
Her eyes were dull, but when she saw me she began to shrink to the ground.
"Franz," Count Mayhew addressed Natisha's father, conferring upon him the name that had obviously belonged to him all along, "I was just telling Herr Begener that I am a man of my word—is that not so?"
Franz lifted his head slowly and nodded, his dead eyes unmoving. He looked as if he wanted only to sleep the final sleep.
"Shall we tell him of our own bargain, then?"
Franz stood unmoving, his eyes downcast.
"Well," the Count said, "I think we should. You see," he continued, turning to me, "my long-time servant Franz here and I struck a bargain—one that, in his mind, would save his daughter. And I was quite willing, because it would have caused me no great inconvenience. But a bargain is a bargain, and, alas, poor Franz did not win." He began to laugh again, but cut it short as that serious tone once again came into his voice. "But perhaps I should explain, for it is really the story of the entire town of Mayhew."
Franz made no comment; and when Natisha began to swoon again I was there instantly at her side, cradling her in my arms. To my horror, I felt, even through her gown, a row of ugly raised welts on her back—and on pulling her gown gently aside in that spot I saw that they were huge swelling in the form of a circle of small sharp teeth.
"You immediately think of vampirism," the Count said, lifting himself from his chair to the floor and beginning to pace up and down before the fireplace as he spoke. "I have heard those tales and they are crude fairy stories. The truth is, I discovered long ago that my people are capable of providing me youth forever. Unfortunately," and here he flashed his horrid, sharp teeth, "at the expense of their own youth. In time they have come to look on it as their fate."
His face darkened, and he stopped his pacing to stare at his own portrait above the fireplace. "But a curious thing happened. There have been no children born in Mayhew for almost twenty-five years. Natisha, in fact, was the very last. This, I discovered, would eventually prove disastrous to me since only my own people were capable of providing me with what I need."
He raised a finger, assuming the grotesque appearance of a university professor giving a lecture. "You can imagine my anxiety. In a mere twenty years or so my people would no longer be of use to me, and I would begin to grow old! So I set to work, and after nearly two decades of work I discovered what I sought.
"It seems there is a substance that the people of Mayhew could easily pass on to me, but for others to supply it required more radical means. I found that this could be accomplished—but only at great expense to the donor. In theory it would work—but my calculations were crude, and a great precision in the workings would have to be employed."
He turned to me, and I saw that his joviality was returning. "That is where you came in, Herr Begener. And my bargain with Franz. You see, if the work was accomplished by the date specified, Natisha would be spared since I would have no need for her. But, alas," and here he showed his rodent's grin again, "the silver did not arrive in time. I even went so far as to try, for Franz's sake, the marvelous workings in the dome without this precious metal, but unfortunately without results; though I must say everything else worked perfectly!"
I thought of the two sets of screams I had heard in the night; of the fine red dust on the inside of the dome; of his horrid need, and his mouth on Natisha's back.
"As I said, Herr Begener," the Count concluded, "you have done a marvelous job!"
"But he will be going now?" Natisha said weakly. It was the first she had spoken, and her voice seemed to come from a great distance away. But her face was set and her eyes were trying desperately to bring fire into themselves, a fire they no longer possessed. "As we agreed, he will be leaving Castle Mayhew?"
The Count said succinctly, "As we agreed, I have given Herr Begener his choice. And, in all flattery to yourself, Natisha, he has chosen to stay."
"You were to live..." she said in a bare voice, her pale hands seeking to clutch mine and succeeding only in resting upon them.
"Life without you would be death," I said, and at that the Count began to howl with mirth.
"As good a performance as I could have wished." He ran to the table and once again held up his goblet of red wine. "To true love!" he cried. "But I am anxious to try my new toy."
I threw myself at him but discovered just how strong his small young body was. He held me easily. A half dozen of his workers arrived, and between their weak hands they were able to drag me from the dining hall and up the long, curling flight of metal stairs to the dome. It was now set ablaze at night by a thousand hand-held torches which glinted sharply off the gold-covered walls, and the dome itself had been partly opened to expose the bright faraway points of a million helpless stars overhead. They brought me up the final stairway to the high suspended platform, its supporting beams, now filled with the purest silver, holding it steady as the Earth itself. They strapped me upon it with silver wires, and I saw beside me on the platform the small velvet couch, as deep red as his wine, where the Count would soon lower his grinning, aged, cursed body.
>
It was then that I gave a last cry as Natisha, being led away by her Hamlet's ghost of a father, threw herself from the platform to land far below.
And here I stand, with only her name on my lips, as I wait for the Count's pure energies to course through and around me, whipping my body, each atom, to a fine red dust that will whirl round and round this evil dome till the essence is distilled into the howling laughing child who waits greedily beside me and I am no more.
But I will have been; and I know that the passing wind of my being will drive a fine red coat into the golden dome around me which, in all the thousands of years of youth to come, can never be washed away.
The Green Face
Lanois, who listened to the green face in the window, sharpened his knives and wept.
"I will not do what you want this time!"
There was no answer, but when he looked through the window, the Green Face was there, hanging suspended like a perfectly sculpted marble bust, smiling, lit bright green from within, framed by night.
And he did as he was told.
She was a loose girl, given to loose blouses and a top that showed her erect nipples. Men came to her, but tonight, a languid slow night, she was drawn to the streets by the humidity and summer itself. Heat coated her but radiated from her body, her long legs, her still-tight tummy, her triangle of hair. A pool of perspiration dripped between her heavy breasts, and her full mouth was open and moist. She pushed back her short hair, which clung damply to her skull
She wanted a man inside her, but didn't know why.
Lanois stumbled into the night from his home. The gate creaked mournfully on its hinges. There was a fog around the streetlamps, and the shops were closing, winking out like eyes, closing against the mist.
Hornets and Others Page 12
