Five World Saga 01 Hornets and Others

by Al Sarrantonio

  I looked up at this curiously old man peering over my shoulder, and gave a short laugh. "Why, this whole contraption resembles nothing so much as an astronomical observatory. Either that or that ridiculous setup Mary Shelley's Dr. Frankenstein used to bring his monster to life!" I was referring of course to the popular novel by Shelley's wife which had been published a few years before.

  The Count's eyes darkened. "Hardly," he said. "I must insist that you keep your speculations to yourself. I do suggest you spend some time studying these papers, since we begin work tomorrow morning at dawn. It is time for me to go to bed. Good night, Herr Begener." He bowed and left the room. I noted a curious sadness in his eyes as he turned to leave, as well as the fire I had noted previously.

  No sooner had the Count left the room than the happy little monk who had met me at the front door earlier in the evening appeared. His manner was so cherubic that I felt an urge to pick him up and bounce him on my knee.

  "More wine, Herr Begener? It is such a fine red vintage!" he asked, brandishing a crystal decanter. I shook my head no.

  "But tell me," I said, as the little fellow began to clear the table. "Why was the village so empty when I was down there tonight? Where is everyone?"

  "Why, they're here of course, at the castle. The Count has hired all the workers of the village for your project, and made provisions here for them as well. Rather nice of him, don't you think?"

  "Yes," I said slowly, "I suppose it is. But just what is this project of his?"

  The gnome paused in his work and regarded me with a blank, childish stare. "I really wouldn't know, Sir," he said. "But I'm sure he has a good reason for it."

  I nodded, and soon was lost in the stack of diagrams. There were curious things going on here, surely, but before long I found the questions crowded from my mind by the refinements on the work before me which commanded my attention, and also by the thought that with the completion of this lucrative, if bizarre, commission I would have enough money to marry my darling Natisha. The count had made some basic architectural mistakes in drafting his plans, but I quickly saw, as the night wore on, that there was really little work in correcting them and honing his measurements to a fine precision.

  I awoke with the cold light of late dawn on the table before me. I had worked nearly the whole night, falling asleep in the middle of a calculation. I stood up, stretching languidly. I was pleased to note that the sinister aspects of the castle had been dispelled by the advent of morning; that indeed my surroundings presented a warm and amiable glow—a glow not in any way dispelled by the appearance of little Franz (for that was the cherubic servant's name) at my elbow, insisting that I have breakfast and a bath before continuing my work. "You will want to be fresh as a daisy when you review your troops!" he cried amiably, and I found his long lusty laugh infectious as he quickly laid plates before me.

  An hour later found me as refreshed as if I had slept a whole day and a night. It is remarkable what a new shirt and a bath can do for a man, and as I emerged from my room, fully expecting to find little Franz waiting for me to slip his hand into mine, I found instead that the Count himself had come to fetch me.

  "I hope you are feeling refreshed," he said in his curiously somber voice, and when I told him I was he bowed quickly and said, "Good, for we have much work to do." I followed him down the marbled staircase.

  We passed the front entrance, the Count leading me to a door to the right of it that opened onto an ascending staircase. This would bring us, I imagined, to our final destination; but to my surprise this led to a sort of mezzanine consisting of a long hallway with small compartments to either side. As we passed these cubicles I was able to see through to the chambers within; they were out-fitted with severe iron beds, each with a single sheet. There seemed to be nothing else in any of them. I made motion to remark this to the Count but he held up his hand for silence and merely led me to the end of the hallway where another door, which he opened using an enormous iron key, led to a thin metal ladder. This wound like a corkscrew up into the dimness. The Count proceeded ahead of me, at a slow careful pace, and I must admit that after awhile I began to get dizzy at the height we were ascending. I tried to look up to see our ultimate destination but was unable to see past the count's frame. When I looked downward I nearly fainted with the height we had attained and with the seeming fragility of our stairway.

  After what seemed a very long time the Count suddenly changed the interminable curling direction of our steps. I soon discovered that we had alighted on a small metal abutment off the winding staircase. To my astonishment I saw that the steps led still farther upward past this landing, and when I inquired of the Count where they led to he merely looked at me and said in a flat voice, "To the roof of the dome; that is where the top sections are pulled back to reveal the sky." He turned back to his keyring and soon found another huge key which he fitted with a clang into an equally huge keyhole. There was a metallic click and we pushed ahead through the door.

  We stepped out not onto a solid floor as I had expected, but rather onto a narrow wooden ledge, some eight to ten feet wide with a solid waist-high railing all around. This shelf wrapped around an enormous circular room with a high wooden dome overhead. So this was the room I would work in, which I had studied the night before on the Count's thorough if imprecise drawings. There was a feeling of great empty space around me, and I was thankful not to suffer from the disease I had read about in one of the popular journals, called 'vertigo'.

  We walked nearly a quarter of the way around the inside circumference of the dome before coming to a wide solid platform jutting toward its center. We turned onto this and I soon found myself on a wide circular platform, supported underneath by the crossed beams I had noted in the blueprints.

  "It is here," Count Mayhew said, unrolling the plans which he held under his arm, "that you will begin."

  I nodded, and we spent the rest of the morning going over fine points and making preliminary preparations for the alterations in the room.

  The time passed so swiftly, once my architect's pencil began to sketch, that it was only my stomach that told me that it must be well into the late afternoon and that I was starving. As the Count seemed unwilling to break off our session of his own accord I made a suggestion that we have something to eat. This greatly surprised him, and after a moment's hesitation he suggested to me that food be sent up to us and that we continue with our work. "As I said last night, time is very short. Work must begin before tonight, and we must be finished one month from this day, Herr Begener."

  "You mean actual construction?" I said, astonished. "Usually it would take me a week or two just to go over the structure of this room and to make any necessary refinements in the blueprints."

  "Any refinements," he responded, "can be made while construction is underway."

  I sought to argue with him on this point, stating that I had never done any job before without first becoming entirely familiar with every detail. "I like to live with my patients before I operate on them," I said with a smile, attempting to make him understand that though I understood his wishes, I possessed a set of rules that I must work by. But he merely shook his head, dismissing my levity, and stated, "One month from today, Herr Begener, we must be finished. It is essential, for both you and me."

  This odd remark would have furthered my questioning of the Count, but at that moment Franz arrived with a bountiful repast and hunger replaced curiosity. I again noted that the Count partook of no food, but rather paced nervously. Hardly before little Franz had cleared away my soiled plates there came a strange, hollow, echoing sound from below us, a dull beating clang that at first puzzled me but then resolved itself, with the appearance of the top of a head followed by an entire body on the platform leading down to the floors below, into the tramp-tramp of many feet making their way up the circular staircase. The first figure was followed by another and then another, and when the metallic tattoo finally abated I counted thirty men in a line on the ledge. They seem
ed of a singular appearance, dull and uninspired, and none of them young; I thought I noted among their number the barman who had accompanied me to the castle the previous evening.

  The Count seemed to have read my thoughts concerning their demeanor because he said, before I could make a remark, "They will do all that you say, and do it well. Our townspeople have a long tradition of craftsmanship."

  As if this endorsement were some sort of sign, the solemn line of workers began to move, with shuffling feet and eyes straight ahead, to the point where the ledge met the circular platform. Count Mayhew went to meet them, giving a few short precise orders which immediately set them into action fulfilling the few things we had already decided could be accomplished that day. Soon they were at work, moving like slow, efficient shadows among us, and it was not long before I heard another echoing tramp-tramp on the circular stairs and another work force rose into view.

  Thus passed the first day, and the quick days following it. When I am at work I always involve myself so deeply that all else is pushed from my mind, and I abruptly lost all track of time.

  In fact nearly five days had passed before I realized that I had not heard from Natisha. This was strange, for I had not even received acknowledgment of the letter I had written her after arriving at the castle.

  "Franz," I called to the jolly little porter as he passed my room on the morning of that fifth day. "Has there been mail for me?"

  "No, Sir," he said, bringing a look of stem concentration across his features; but suddenly sly understanding replaced it. "The master seeks word from a young lady perhaps?"

  "How did you know that?" I asked, in awe of his perception until he told me his answer.

  "The master may find," he said, a grin nearly splitting his face, "that the correspondence you seek has been delivered by she who wrote it."

  "What!"

  "You may want to examine the newly-bloomed roses in the back garden" he said, and then he was gone before I could ask him how to reach that spot.

  I hurried through my shaving and dressing; finally I could stand the anticipation no longer and rushed through my toilet, struggling with my frock coat and leaving my tie undone. Thus attired, I hurried to the back garden, passing the gnomish Franz on the way humming to himself while he went about polishing a huge oak case in the front hallway; he looked up at me brightly as I went by.

  I paused at the iron gate leading into the garden at the sound of two voices. And there, in the garden before me as I watched unobserved, stood Count Mayhew with my own Natisha.

  A great shock coursed through me at the sight of them embracing; from the way the Count held her in his arms it was plain that this was not their first meeting. My eyes filled with hot tears. I was only able to hear the Count say to her, "He must finish it in time," before my body betrayed my intellect and I burst in upon them.

  For a moment I so startled them that they held their embrace; then suddenly they parted, with such self-consciousness that there was no further doubt in my mind at what I had seen.

  Then suddenly Natisha, unfaithful Natisha, was smothering herself in my breast and crying out that she had missed me so!

  "After what I've seen?" I said, pushing her back away from me.

  "Oh, Karl, no, you don't understand!"

  "I'm afraid I do."

  Once again she pressed herself against me, and this time her presence, and the odor that she wore, and the very act of her hands around me combined to temper my anger.

  "Perhaps," I said, "You would care to explain your behavior."

  This time it was she who pushed herself away.

  "I cannot."

  "I can't accept that."

  "Oh, Karl, please believe me! I cannot tell you anything, only to say that he does it for us!"

  "I do not understand. You must admit to me that you knew this place before I came here, that your urging me to take this commission was a deliberate, calculated act on your part, and that you are somehow in league with the Count himself—am I correct?"

  She seemed torn, and then once again she threw herself at me. "Oh, yes, yes," she whispered fiercely, and I could tell by the way she clutched me that she was crying. "Only please believe me when I say that I love you more than anything in this world, Karl, and that everything that has been done has been done for you and me. Can you believe that?" She looked up at me, clutching me firmly by the arms.

  "How can I believe you unless you explain?"

  "Please, Karl, I can tell you no more!"

  Her pleading was so intense that I found myself swayed, and held her to me as though I would never let her go. I had not realized how much I had missed her and told her so, and for a moment we once again fell into discussion of our future together, of our marriage and the life we planned to share, and thoughts of the Count were lifted from me.

  But suddenly Natisha disentangled herself from me, and I turned to see the diminutive porter standing there, a beaming smile upon his face.

  "Pardon me," he said, "but I come for Herr Begener." He turned to me. "The Count waits for you in the tower."

  "Tell the Count to go to blazes—" I began, but Natisha clutched at my hand with such a firm grip that her nails dug into my palm. I turned to see the pleading in her face and then said to Franz, in a somewhat less heated tone, "Tell the Count that I will join him immediately."

  "Very good, Sir."

  And then he suddenly threw back his head and laughed, skipping out of the garden like some wild Pan filled with youth, and without a glance back at Natisha I followed.

  The days, and then the weeks, passed.

  I became lost in a haze of work. Day melted into night and still the work went on; when the light in the tall wide dome began to fail there would come the solemn march up the metallic steps and a phalanx of ghostly workers bearing torches would rise to stand guard against the darkness around the circumference. There always seemed to be more workers when they were needed; but a curious fact, beside all the other curious facts I had amassed since my arrival at Castle Mayhew, was that none of the workers, or none of the other people of any capacity I had seen in all my time there, be they men or women, were young. Excepting myself, Natisha and little Franz, all were old, and tired, and worn, and all worked with the same detached weariness that I had at first noticed.

  I sought to ask the Count about this one day, but he only regarded me with his weary yet blazing eyes and then turned away. "Life is for the young, it seems, Herr Begener," he said slowly, and off somewhere outside at that moment I heard a robin call and then, in the recesses of the castle, came little Franz's infectious laugh, and I asked the Count no more.

  And still the work went on.

  At the end of the third week it became apparent that the Count's demand had not been so far-fetched after all; and after I had become accustomed to the fact that I would get whatever I wanted and whenever I required it, night or day, I became quite confident that the commission would, indeed, be completed on time. The modifications needed turned out to be slighter than I had at first imagined. The Count, despite his sober demeanor, seemed to brighten somewhat, and when I told him that we would apparently make the deadline he had set for the completion of the work, something almost like a smile crossed his tired lips and he muttered, "So then we will win," before nodding and moving off away from me to inspect some gold plating that was in the process of being tacked over the entire inside surface of the dome. This had been one of my chief worries, but the Count had steadfastly maintained that such foil could be obtained, and, when indeed it did arrive, and in sufficient quantities, I felt completely justified in passing my completely optimistic estimate to him.

  My chagrin was all the greater when I approached him a mere hour or two later with a problem that could not be so easily surmounted.

  "These beams," I said, rolling out a plan before him and indicating the pair of huge timbers that formed an X and upon which the platform was presently being mounted, "I see now that they were to be covered each with pur
e silver. Were you aware of the fact that no such amount of silver appears to be obtainable or has even been ordered?"

  He studied the paper in silence for a few moments, and then I saw his creased skin whiten under his collar. Unsteadily, he regained his composure.

  "You are sure of this?"

  "According to your men the silver was not ordered. And until I can get the silver my hands are tied."

  "I see," he remarked, and then he wandered away from me. "I will see what can be done," he called back distractedly, and I did not see him again for the rest of the day.

  When I did catch sight of him again it was under trying circumstances. Other work went on for the rest of the week, until the day finally passed that was to be the deadline for the completion of the project. By this time I felt I could work no longer without dropping from exhaustion, and so I took a short repast and then went to my bed. But I could not sleep. Strange noises from the nether parts of the castle kept me awake—the grindings and various sounds emanating from the dome, as well as the slow, steady trampings of workers here and there; and this, combined with my overactive mind kept me from the sleep I so desperately needed. Several times I rose, pacing to and fro before attempting to settle into bed once more, but without success; finally, I went to the window and gazed out upon the lawn for a while. At this time an odd sight I witnessed; for there, crossing the lawn below my window and making their way toward the outside stairway leading to the dome, were two figures; as they passed directly below me I made them out to be the old barman whom I had first met in the town below, and a youth I had seen before; he had made two or three special deliveries of material to the castle and was one of the few workers from outside the village I had encountered. He seemed excited, and before his voice faded I heard the word, "money" and the old barman's head bowed slowly. Soon came the metallic thump of their feet on the stairway and they were gone.