Saint-Germain: Burning Shadows Part 18

"If that is what sustains you-the earth-then I want to know about the blood: how can both of them nurture you?" she said, her breath coming more quickly. "What do you gain from the blood?"

"Life," he said.

"Truly? You don't need much of it." Her skeptical observation was punctuated by a kiss to his nose.

"No, not if it is . . ." he said, faltering as he tried to explain, "Apodictically given."

"What do you mean by that?"

He took a long, ruminative breath. "Blood is more than blood for me, and those of my kind: it is the totality of the person whose it is, the most undeniable substance of personal uniqueness. If in taking blood there is genuine intimacy, when something of each pa.s.ses to the other, my needs in terms of quant.i.ty are quite small; it is the whole person that sustains me, not the palmful of blood. If there is pleasure but no touching beyond dreams and flesh, then I require a little more-not much more, perhaps half again as much as what knowing closeness compels-to be nourished. If there is nothing but anguish and dread, then I need more, but then it is a hunger for poison, and if I succ.u.mb to it, blood taken in agony pa.s.ses that pain to me and blights my soul."

Nicoris stared at him, fascinated. "Do I nourish you?"

"You do," he told her, smiling up at her. "The whole of you." He hoped again that she would reveal what she was striving to hide.

"Do you want sustenance now, Dom?" She was teasing him with her nearness, deliberately leaning down to kiss his throat; she offered nothing more of herself.

"Yes," he said. "But there are a few things I have to tell you before we continue."

"What things?" she asked, annoyed at any delay.

"I warned you that there was a risk in lying with me more than five times, and this is the fifth time for us." He could see curiosity and irritation in her face; he touched the sharp crease between her brows. "Let me explain, Nicoris, for both our sakes."

She relented. "All right-but don't take too long."

"As you wish." He paused to order his thoughts. "This is the last time we may touch without that part of me that has pa.s.sed to you reaching a point that when you die, you, too, will rise and be un-dead, as I am."

"What do you mean?" she asked, laughing breathlessly.

His dark eyes were enigmatic, his voice musical. "I mean that you will become one of my blood. You will live as I live, be what I am."

"Undead."

"Undead." When she remained silent, he went on, "Those of my blood also sustain themselves through the most profound touching, through the communion of making love."

"We've done that already," she said, dismissing his concerns.

"But it will not continue after you die," he said somberly.

Her eyes glinted with dawning outrage. "Why not? Do you not love those who are like you?"

He could feel the tension in her body; he took a little time to answer. "With those of my blood there is always a bond, and it endures until the True Death."

"And what is that: the True Death?" she demanded.

"It is the end of our life. Even we die, in the fullness of time."

"But you've died already," she protested.

"Yes, but not fatally." He began to stroke her back, easing the tautness from her muscles. "One day, the True Death will come, as it comes to everyone, and all things." He waited again for her to speak.

"Then you can die?"

"Most certainly; all vampires can."

The word made her flinch. "Don't say that."

"Say what-vampire?" He gave a single, sad chuckle. "What word would you prefer I use?"

Her aggravation was confined to a sniff. "If you must call yourself that, I suppose you must," she allowed, then kissed him again, this time with turbulent pa.s.sion; as their kiss grew more intense, she reached around behind her to grab his hand and pull it to her breast, panting a little as the kiss ended. "None of that matters right now-what matters is that you love me."

"I do love you," he said, feeling her rapid pulse and mounting desire flood through her.

"Then show me," she said, and pressed her mouth to his again. This kiss was more ardent as it lengthened, deepened, became more complex; Nicoris pressed herself into his hand, moaning as she awakened to the first quivers of rapture. "You know what gives me pleasure, Dom."

He moved, still holding her, so that they were lying side by side, with only s.p.a.ce for his hand between them. "Slowly, Nicoris. There is no cause to rush."

"But it has been many days, and I-"

His hand between them worked down to raise her palla, lifting it gradually from her knees to her hips, finding the soft inner folds at the meeting of her powerful thighs. There he lingered, exploring the recesses, persuading her body to release its secrets to him.

After a time, she became more languorous, except for an occasional frisson of excitement. "Are you going to . . ."

"All in good time." He eased her palla farther up her body so that most of it was crumpled under her arms, revealing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s; he slid down her body to tongue her nipples while his hand quested for the core of her.

Her fulfillment, when it came, came quickly, coiling tightly like the skein on a ballista, then releasing in pulsing flourishes that were accompanied by little cries, like the calls of birds, her hand caught in the loose waves of his hair as the last of her spasms encompa.s.sed her. Finally she sighed and lay back, quivering in the glorious aftermath of their rapture; she clung to him, caressing his face, kissing his fingers, whispering endearments to him in the language of the Huns.

Text of a dispatch to Metropolitan Evangelos in Constantinople from Praetor Custodis Mauritzius Corvo at Narona, Province of Illyric.u.m, written in Imperial Latin in fixed ink on sanded linen, carried by the Imperial bireme Princeps Gloriae, and delivered fifteen days after it was written.

To the most reverend Metropolitan Evangelos of the Emperor Theodosios at the City of Constantine, Praetor Mauritzius Corvo, resident at Narona in the Province of Illyric.u.m, on this, the twenty-ninth day of April in the 439th Year of Salvation: Ave.

I have recently received a request from one Patras Methodos of your city that is of so startling a nature that I am compelled to bring it to your attention, for it appears to me that in his zeal, Patras Methodos has overstepped his mandate to the detriment of his office, to wit: he has commanded all records of the Eclipse Trading Company operating in this port as well as many others, with accounting of all monies transferred to and from that company's treasury for the last ten years; he indicates that he has made similar demands of factors for the company in all cities allied to the Roman Empires, East and West, along with official tax records, to be sure that there has been no attempt to defraud the government, nor to conceal smuggling or other wrong-doing.

I am familiar with this company, and its factor here, Pollux Savinus, who has been factor for twelve years and is a man of impeccable probity-I could wish that many another merchants' factors were as upright as this man. To bring his character into question is offensive to anyone who knows him, and an insult to the company for which he works.

The company itself is an exemplary one. I have only once met its owner, Dom Feranescus Rakoczy Sanctu-Germainios, who called upon me when he was returning to his post as regional guardian at Apulum Inferior in the former Province of Dacia, where presently he has been engaged, so I am informed, in battling the barbarian Huns, which is a service to Roma, East and West. To call his character into question is unthinkable.

All of this is by way of saying that it appears to me that Patras Methodos has exceeded his authority and has earned at least a reprimand, and the a.s.signment to other cases than this one, for clearly he has exercised poor judgment and abused his position. There is no wrong-doing at Eclipse Trading Company, so the detention of any of its personnel-and Patras Methodos informs me that there has been such a detention-dishonors the laudable conduct of this company, its owner, its staff, and its employees.

Most gratefully, and commending my information to your good consideration Mauritzius Corvo Praetor Custodis at Narona Province of Illyric.u.m

PART III.

NICORIS.

Text of a report from Hredus at Sanctu-Eustachios the Hermit monastery to Verus Flautens, Praetor-General of Drobetae, written in a simple Greek code on a thin plank of wood using a charring stylus, entrusted to the deputy Watchman leaving with a company of refugees to carry with other letters and reports, delivered forty-nine days after it was written.

To my revered Praetor-General, Verus Flautens, two weeks before the Summer Solstice, Ave.

This region is still on alert, for it is feared that the Huns will attack again, and in larger numbers than when they came before. Already the people here have doubled the number of attackers they fought by repeating the tale among themselves; they have rebuilt the portions of the walls that were damaged during that first attack, and have also built two more observation towers in order to keep watch not only on the road through the pa.s.s but on the lake end of the valley. The men are largely busy with the defenses, the women help with the farming and cooking for all the residents. Those children who are old enough have been set to making shafts for arrows and fletching them. The monks are not pleased that they must deal with women, but their help has made a great difference in the state of the fields and flocks.

Over the last month, more than two hundred thirty of the refugees have left the monastery, diminishing the number of men available to fight and to help the fighters. More have plans to leave, including the ones who will bear this to you. The mercenaries are still willing to defend this place, some say because Dom Sanctu-Germainios has pledged to pay them if they survive. None of the soldiers have fled, though many of them are not happy to stay here. Antoninu Neves, their leader, has told Priam Corydon that his men will not desert the monks. Tribune Bernardius of Ulpia Traiana has said his soldiers will stay until an evacuation is ordered, but the others, the refugees, from Ulpia Traiana must do as they think best. He cannot force them to stay, or to go. The leaders of men, not the soldiers, from Ulpia Traiana have gone already, all but two, and one is planning to leave shortly.

Those refugees who remain here do so more because they fear to encounter the Huns in the open more than they wish to stay. All the refugees are awaiting the return of the Huns, and all are afraid. The monks say they would welcome the departure of the refugees and soldiers, but I think most of them are secretly glad to have help. Monks do not often make good fighters, and the Huns would defeat them with little effort if the refugees and soldiers and mercenaries left them without the protection they have given the monastery so far.

Presently there are eight hundred twenty-one men, women, children, and monks within these walls. The party leaving that will carry this to you will reduce that to seven hundred seventy-four. There are roughly thirty residents of the monastery who are ill or impaired and therefore unable to fight.

Only one merchant has stopped here since I have arrived, a man known to Priam Corydon from previous visits; he remained only two days before continuing his journey to Aquinc.u.m. He came from Thessalonika, crossed the Danuvius at Oescus, and came to the monastery by secondary roads, for he says the Roman ones are haunted by outlaws of all sorts; he said that this spring he has met with fewer merchants on this trip than in previous years. He had an escort of three men-at-arms, and nine well-laden mules, bearing not only the man and his escort, but all his wares. They travel at a rate of fifteen to twenty thousand paces a day on good roads, and between ten and twelve thousand paces a day on poor roads. They have three times had to fight off attacks of various robbers, but they have not yet seen any Huns. If this journey goes badly, he told the Priam that he would not come north of the Danuvius again.

If it is your intention to dispatch troops to add to the defenders' numbers, then I recommend that you do so as soon as may be. The summer will quickly be upon us, and the monastery could shortly be attacked. The Huns will not wait for much longer, I fear, if they intend to raid this place again, though they may hold off until the fields are nearer harvest, so they will have rewards for their efforts. They can use the grain in the fields before the lake, and the fruit in the orchards as well as items of value they can take from the refugees. I, for one, do not want to have to fight them if they come in their numbers as they are said to do.

The monastery is also being visited by the hermit Monachos Anatolios, who has declared that the defenses must be taken down, or G.o.d will not protect the monks and the other residents. He says that to build stockades shows a lack of faith, and that only those who will have utter faith in G.o.d will be worthy of His Mercy. By building defenses, Monachos Anatolios says, the monks expose themselves to the fires of h.e.l.l for apostasy, as well as to the fury of the Huns. He has four followers among the other hermits, and some of the monks here are inclined to agree with him. Because of that, stress between the monks and the refugees is getting worse, and it is likely that it will continue and worsen. Since I came here, four men have been exiled from the monastery for repeated fighting with those monks who think that the monastery should not be defended, to show their faith. No doubt more men will be turned off until the Huns come. The monks who fight are sent to penitential cells in the main building of the monastery.

There are rumors that the Huns have a spy in the monastery, but such rumors are always rife in circ.u.mstances like these, and I do not give the idea much credit. In so confined a place as this, it would be difficult for a spy to work without exposing himself. Not that the Huns would hesitate to employ spies, but I doubt that there is such a man in this place: the advantages appear to be few and the hazards many. Roman taxes may be high and arbitrary in former provinces, but they are not as destructive as the Huns can be.

From my view, from all I have seen and heard, this region would need a full Legion at least to defend it, the country being so mountainous that foot soldiers may have a good chance against cavalry, not that the Gepidae would welcome a Legion on this side of the Danuvius. The Gepidae and Goths have negotiated with the Hunnic King Attila, and pay him tribute to avoid fighting his men. Some of the Goths have gone over to the Huns, accepting their promise of safety in place of protecting their territory and kin. If anyone is to stop Attila's advance it will have to be the Roman Empire, East or West. The people in this region are growing weary of fighting, and many have already gone over to the Huns. If no action is taken now, in these mountains, then there will be no stopping Attila from attacking within the Empire, perhaps as far as Roma itself, or Constantinople. I do not say this to alarm you, but in warning.

I have fulfilled the first condition of my mission, so in accordance with your pledge, prepare a writ of manumission for my sister and procure a loom for her. I will leave here within the month, and will expect word of your compliance from my sister before I depart; should I have nothing from her, I will seek you out to discover the reason.

In all devotion to you and the Roman cause, Hredus Freedman of Drobetae

1.

"With the death of the farrier's baby, we are down to seven hundred fifty-four souls within our walls," Monachos Niccolae of Sinu said as he presented his weekly census to Priam Corydon; he was weary, his hair and beard were grayer, and his face was more worn than it had been a month ago. "We have lost six weavers and a fuller, and are now reduced to two smiths. The refugees from Apulum Inferior have lost the greatest number, and they are still leaving in higher count than the others." Early Ma.s.s had been over for a quarter of the morning, half the monks were at private devotions in their cells, and it was almost time for the mid-day meal.

The monastery's office was dim although it was late morning; the shutters were closed against the weather. A warm summer rain was falling, the fine drops more of a mist than a proper downpour; this meant that the usual sentries were not posted on the peaks around the valley, which made many of the residents uneasy, for in conditions like this, the Huns could be upon them without any warning, so they went about their tasks quietly, talking in hushed voices when they had to speak, but generally saying very little.

Priam Corydon sighed as he looked at the sheet of vellum. "The last lot went down the hunters' road, didn't they?"

"Yes. They believe it is safer," said Monachos Niccolae. "There is another party from Tsapousso preparing to leave, a group of eighteen. That will leave fewer than two dozen from that village in the monastery." He moved nervously, his face tight with worry.

"When do they plan to depart?" Priam Corydon asked, trying to conceal his worry.

"They plan to leave in four or five days, or so they have told Mangueinic. They believe it is no longer safe here. Mangueinic told me that he wants to dissuade them; he is concerned that they will be waylaid by outlaws if they escape the Huns, being so few in number." He made the sign of the cross. "The Huns are still in the region; we know that. So anyone leaving here puts himself in danger if he goes, no matter which road he chooses."

Priam Corydon stared at the report, seeing nothing of it. "If he must, I suppose it wouldn't be wrong to attempt it."

"It is his duty," said Monachos Niccolae.

"How do you see that?" Priam Corydon asked.

"He is now once again leader of the Watchmen, and the man most responsible for the refugees from Apulum Inferior-" Monachos Niccolae began.

"What of Dom Sanctu-Germainios?" Priam Corydon interrupted.

"He is important to those dealing with Roma, but he is a foreigner, and that absolves him of responsibility." Monachos Niccolae looked down. "Or so I believe is the case."

Priam Corydon lapsed into contemplation, his gaze drifting. "Do you think the refugees who want to leave can be persuaded to remain?"

"It is in G.o.d's hands, not in the words of men," said Monachos Niccolae, and made the sign of the fish.

For some little time, neither man spoke, then he went on, "Monachos Anatolios told Ritt that he will come to the monastery before mid-day."

Priam Corydon put down the vellum and rubbed his face, resisting the urge to pull on his beard. "Did he say why he is coming?"

"He might have, but Ritt didn't mention what it was, if he did."

"He's going to preach," said Priam Corydon with complete certainty and growing dismay. "He has been waiting for an opportunity, and now he has one."

"He may only want to get dry," suggested Monachos Niccolae.

"Not he," said Priam Corydon. "Sitting in his cave, in the damp, is a wonderful opportunity to mortify the flesh. He would hardly deprive himself of it." He knew he should do penance for so uncharitable a remark, but he found it difficult to admire the irascible hermit, whose zeal was so intense that he prayed daily for the apocalypse to occur, ending the world, and for the d.a.m.nation of all Christians who did not share his vision.

"Mangueinic will not be glad to see him," Monachos Niccolae remarked. "There is always trouble among the refugees when Monachos Anatolios preaches."

Priam Corydon said nothing in response; he rose from his writing table and took a turn about the small chamber. "Can you tell me if any of the refugees have gone out hunting today?"

"Not that I know of," said Monachos Niccolae. "They are working on the outer walls still, and some of them are inspecting the livestock; necessary tasks, all of them, and ones that have been neglected these last several days. The rain gives them a good reason to keep the animals in pens and paddocks."

"So it does." He could not shake the sense that he was not seeing a danger that was directly in front of him. He told himself it was the result of many weeks filled with antic.i.p.ation of Hunnic attack.

There was a tap on the door; the two men turned toward it.

"Mangueinic here, with Dom Sanctu-Germainios," the gruff voice announced. "Will you admit us?"

"Enter, enter," Priam Corydon called out, and motioned to Monachos Niccolae to open the door; he resumed his place in his chair at his writing table, trying to compose himself, and reluctant to show any sign of misgivings. "G.o.d save you," he said as the two men came into the room.

Making the sign of the fish, Mangueinic stumped across the room to the writing table. "G.o.d save you, too, Priam." He steadied himself on his crutch and said, "We've stopped another fight, this one over a woman. The Dom has treated the loser, who has been stabbed."