That Which Should Not Be (9 page)

“It was built,” Vladimir said casually, “during the many wars between the Turk and the Wallachian princes.”

The conversation died away then, and for many minutes, hours perhaps, we spoke little.  The rain continued in torrents, and the thunder and lightning that followed filled our ears and gave our eyes the briefest glimpses of the world outside.  In those flashes, I saw amazing things, impossible things, and always the wolf, following our path, marking our trail.

*   *   *

It must have been well on past midnight when it happened.  We were moving along, traveling at some speed, and I would learn later we had nearly reached the summit of the mountain.  It was then that Charles spoke. 

“Vladimir,” he said as he gazed out of the window and into the darkness beyond, “I thought you said no one lived on this mountain.”

“They do not,” Vladimir replied, with the look of a man confused.

“Then what is that?” Charles said, never taking his eyes off of the coming road.  The rest of us all crowded over to one side.  Though I could barely see, it was still apparent to me what Charles meant.  In the coming darkness loomed a massive structure, a fortress built of solid stone, seemingly cut from the very side of the mountain.  And it was not abandoned; through its windows, the flickering light of torches shone into the night. 

“I do not know,” Vladimir said, amazed.  “I must admit,” he continued, “that I have never come this way before.”

The gigantic structure loomed ahead, growing ever larger as we approached.  I slid closer to Charles to get a better look, until finally he gestured with one hand that I could trade places with him.  It was a Gothic castle with a central tower rising from the middle of four smaller redoubts.  A high wall surrounded it, and as we approached, I could see the gate was open.  It was then I felt my eyes deceived me.  To them there appeared a figure, dressed in a long black cloak, standing on the side of the road.  A hood obscured its face. 

The carriage thundered by so quickly I glimpsed it for only a second.  But in that second the lightning flashed and I could see it was a woman, her long dark hair as black as the night that surrounded her, with green eyes that burned into my soul.  I will see that image for the rest of my days every night when I close my eyes to sleep.  But then the flash was gone, and so was the woman.  The coach rolled on up the mountain. 

No one spoke.  Although we had traveled far in wilderness, it was this glimpse of civilization that shook us the most.  I suppose we might have gone on like that for the rest of the journey.  But suddenly, jarringly, we came to a halt.  I looked from Vladimir to Charles.  It was the look on Vladimir’s face that froze my heart: that of sheer terror.  Vladimir knew these lands, and though he professed not to give credence to many of the stories surrounding them, he believed enough to fear. 

We felt the shifting of our driver's weight as he climbed out of the box, heard his boots as they splashed along the ground.  Then, the door was wrenched violently open.  What we saw would have been humorous in a different setting.  He stood there drenched in the rain, water pouring off of his broad-rimmed, leather hat. 

“You should see this,” he said.  Then, he turned and walked towards the front of the carriage.  The three of us looked at each other, silently questioning whether any would follow him.  Finally, Vladimir spoke. 

“Stay here, Anna.  We will go see.” 

No other words were necessary.  One by one, we filed out into the pouring rain.  What we saw was as shocking as it was disheartening. 

Our driver stood at the front of the carriage, one hand on the lead horse’s halter.  Beyond him was the road.  But then the road suddenly came to a sharp stop.  Where it should have continued sat what looked to my darkened eyes as a sheer rock cliff.  I followed it up to the sky, but in the night, I could not see how high it went.  It was unimaginable, impossible.  The road had been built to go over the mountain, and at some point previously it had.  But now it ran directly into a wall.  I would have questioned my own sanity, but it soon became clear it was my eyesight that deceived me.  A flash of lightning revealed the truth. 

It was a wall, indeed, but not the sheer stone cliff I had first imagined.  Rather, it was made up of boulders of varying sizes, some merely pebbles, others the size of the coach itself.  It was not incredibly high, and a man would have had no trouble traversing it.  But to our coach, it was as impenetrable as if it stretched all the way to the heavens.  Our driver released the horse he held and walked back to where we stood. 

“Impossible,” he said simply. 

“What is this devilry?” Charles asked.  The innkeeper looked at him as if he were a fool. 

“A rock slide, of course.  The road is useless.  We have no choice.  We must go back.”

“Go all the way back?” Charles exclaimed more than asked. 

“There is no other way.”

“What of the castle we passed earlier?” I asked. 

The other three men turned and looked at me.  None answered, so I continued. 

“Well,” I said, “it is occupied.  And I think none of us cherishes the thought of traveling all the way back down the mountain at this time of night.  And more importantly, perhaps there is a way around this impasse.  If so, they may know.” 

It was the last thought that captured Vladimir and Charles, that bit of hope the journey was not all in vain that made them forget their fears and embrace my plan.  To this day, I do not know why I suggested it.  Even then, I feared that place.  Even then, the vision from the road had begun to haunt me.  But I pressed anyway, as if I had no choice.

“No,” our driver replied, apparently not convinced. 

“It is a good plan,” Charles said. 

“No, we should keep moving.”

Vladimir joined the fray.  “Let us at least try.  Perhaps we can ask if our young friend’s supposition is correct.  If so, we can stay.  If not, we can continue.”  Vladimir punctuated this thought by placing several more gold coins into the man’s hand. 

He still looked unsure, but finally said, “Alright.  We try.  But we go if no way around.”  Before anyone could answer, a wolf howled somewhere not too distant from where we stood. 

“We go now,” our driver ordered.  On this point, no one challenged him.  We climbed back into the carriage, suddenly aware of the water that had filled our clothes.  We felt the coach turn and the horses pull, and then we left that rock wall behind and rode to an uncertain future. 

Chapter

15

The feeling inside the coach was a strange mixture of excitement and fear.  None spoke, but as we descended the mountain, I found myself eager to see what mysteries lay beyond the walls of the fortress we had passed earlier and perhaps learn the identity of the woman I had glimpsed only briefly.  But I was afraid as well, afraid of the secrets and legends that surrounded that plutonian peak and of what person or persons would make their home on its slopes. 

But there was little time to think, as the quick movement of the horses had already brought us to the gates.  The carriage jerked as the horses hesitated, but a sharp word from the driver and a sharper strike of his whip forced them forward.  The carriage then rolled into an open courtyard before coming to a stop. 

This time we didn’t wait for our driver to descend.  I threw open the door and hopped out.  Charles and Vladimir followed with Anna close behind.  We stepped into a walled space, the gate behind us and a stone fortress in front.  The cobblestone was slick with new rain, but the fall of it had slacked, leaving a cool, crisp night behind.  There were none about, but the burning torches along the wall — clearly lit after the rain no longer fell — told us one had been here not long before and perhaps our arrival was expected.  A pair of great wooden doors stood before us.  I looked at Charles to gauge his interest in knocking, but he was already looking at me. 

“So, what will it be my friend?  Should we announce our presence?”

“We should leave this place,” spat the innkeeper.  “There is an unholy feeling about.”

“More superstition,” Charles said with a chuckle.  “Well, if no one else is going to take the lead . . .”

Charles didn’t get the chance to finish.  His words were interrupted by the clanging boom of a large bolt being withdrawn somewhere beyond the wooden door.  One of the doors swung slowly open, and the light from a large chandelier hanging over the entryway streamed out into the night.  Outlined by that light was a figure, one that looked to my adjusting eyes to be an unnaturally large person, bigger and bulkier than seemed possible.  But then I realized that it wasn’t unnatural at all.  In fact, it was a woman in the thick, enveloping dress and hood of a monastic. 

She stepped out into the night with the confidence and poise of a leader.  Then she spoke. 

“May I help you gentlemen?” she asked, in a sing-song timbre I couldn’t trace but felt instantly entranced by.  For a moment we just stood there, mesmerized both by her voice and by the glowing light that seemed to surround her.  She was as out of place as she could possibly be.  Finally, as was his wont, Charles took the lead. 

“Yes, Abbess, I believe you may be able to help us.  We are travelers.  We have come from the village at the base of this mountain on our way to Czernowitz.  But at the pass beyond here, the road has been blocked.”

“Yes,” she said.  “A landslide blocked it only a few weeks ago.  Our convent priest, Father Kramer, left us some time ago on his way to Czernowitz.  I imagine that he will return soon with help from the city to clear the way.”

“Abbess,” Charles said, “we have been traveling for some time.  It appears, based on what you have told us, our travels are all for naught, and we are need to return from whence we came.  Could we trouble you to stay the night?”

“I suppose,” the woman began, “it is not wise of me to allow four unknown men to stay within the walls of this abbey.  But I see a kindness in your eyes, and I judge your intentions pure.  You may stay not only the night, but if you desire it, you may stay until Father Kramer returns.  It shouldn’t be long, certainly no longer than any alternative route to Czernowitz.”

“Please, excuse us,” Charles asked.  He turned to us and said, “Well boys, what will it be?”

“I not stay,” the driver said.  “Not here, not in this place.”

“Is this a play for more gold?” Charles spat.

“No money.  This is a cursed place.  You should go with me.”

“Gentlemen,” the sister spoke from behind us.  We all turned to her.  “I am sorry to overhear, but I notice one of your number has no desire to stay with us.  We have a coach here, and upon Father Kramer’s return, we can arrange for your travel to Czernowitz.”

Charles looked to me.  I shrugged my shoulders.  Vladimir simply nodded.  Charles turned to our new hostess and said, “Good.  Then, we will stay.”

Our driver said not another word.  He walked back to the stage, removed our bags, and climbed into his driver's box.  With a quick flick of the reins and an unintelligible command, the horses began to pull.  He turned them around and led them out of the gate.  As he disappeared into the darkness, it struck me we were now trapped there.  We had no way to escape. 

Charles turned on his heels and faced the woman who remained in the doorway.  “Well, Abbess, it appears we are in your hands.”

“Yes,” she said, stepping into the night.  “I am Sister Batory.  I am the Abbess of this convent.  The young women within are my charges.  I expect you will treat them with dignity and respect.”

The friendly tenor of her voice had changed, the kindness drained from it.  Now she sounded colder, less welcoming.  It was apparent she did not trust us.

“Of course,” Charles replied with a bow. 

She nodded subtly, and then turned and entered the castle.  We gathered our belongings and followed. 

“The abbey, as you can probably tell,” she said as she walked quickly across the vast chamber beyond the door, “was once a mountain fortress.  It is, therefore, quite vast, with the advantage that we have plenty of room.”

“So how did the convent come to possess this edifice, if I may ask?”

The sister turned on one heel facing Charles.  The gleam in her eye indicated this was a tour that expected no questions, but she answered it nonetheless. 

“When the wars between the princes of Wallachia and the Turk ended, there was no more need for a place such as this.  The wide world moved on, leaving this mountain behind.  A traveler, a man of God, came upon this place in much the same way as you.  That the Church has managed to find some use for it is a blessing upon us all.”

I took this pause in what had been our hasty crossing to study my surroundings.  The ceilings were high and vaulted as was to be expected.  There were corridors surrounding us that lead off in many directions, most of them dark.  There were a great number of sturdy wooden doors, all closed and, something told me, all locked.  We appeared to be heading towards some sort of grand staircase at the end of the room.  It led up to a second floor where I presumed our lodgings would be.

“In any event,” Abbess Batory continued, “the castle is large as I said, and much of it is still unused.  I advise you that we keep many of the doors locked.  If you come to a door and find that it will not open, I would ask you to leave it be, for your sake as well as mine.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Vladimir asked, somewhat concerned. 

“Well,” Batory continued, “it is simply that many of our sisters have taken a vow of seclusion.  I would have you not intrude upon that.  But also, this structure has stood for many centuries.  Much of it still lies in disrepair.  We wouldn’t want any of you to lose yourselves within its depths . . . and become injured.”

There was a certain menace to her voice, as if her statement was more in the nature of a threat than a warning.  I noticed Anna shiver beside me.  Apparently Abbess Batory noticed, as well. 

“I am sorry, dear.  I do not mean to frighten you.  But it is better to know the dangers you face, of which there are few I assure you, than to leave you in ignorance.”

We began to climb the staircase.  It was winding and stone, as was most everything else in the once-fortress. 

“Your rooms are located on the second floor,” Batory continued.  “There are four of you, but we have only three free chambers.  The two young gentlemen will stay together.  You, sir,” she said, speaking to Vladimir, “will have your own room, as well as the young lady.”

Vladimir said nothing, though I could tell a part of him strongly wished to object.  Whether out of fear for the young woman’s safety or out of some basic lack of decorum his impoverished upbringing had bequeathed upon him, I couldn’t say.  In any event, I doubted Abbess Batory had any intention of allowing two unmarried persons to stay together overnight.  So, it was probably the better part of discretion that made Vladimir hold his peace.  

The sister escorted us to our rooms and said, “Of course, once you have entered your rooms, I will lock the door behind you.  I hope you understand.”

Charles apparently did not.  “But, Abbess,” he began, “that seems most unusual.”

Batory turned to him, her thin, bloodless lips drawing taunt across her bright white teeth.  “Yes,” she said, drawing out the word, “I can see why a man such as yourself, might feel that way.  You must understand my responsibilities.  You are, as I said, unknown to me.  I will allow you to stay here, as is my Christian duty.  But faith and good sense are not exclusive of one another.  I cannot allow you simply to roam about the halls at night unsupervised.  Not until I get a better feeling for you, at least.”

Charles began to object, again, but she held up one hand. 

“This is not open for debate, sir.  There is no purpose in arguing.  You may do as I say, or you may go.  This is a point I cannot concede.  You will enter your rooms, and I will lock them behind you.  In the morning, when your breakfast is prepared, I will return.  At that point, you may join us, and I will introduce you to the rest of the sisterhood.”  Then she paused, staring intently at Charles.  “But let me say again, any attempt to leave your rooms once I have locked them would be most unfortunate.” 

Charles looked at me, and I at him, but we said nothing.  It was a Hobson’s choice.  The truth was there was nowhere else to go and no real decision to be made.  We had one option, and that was to stay, whatever Abbess Batory required. 

Anna and Vladimir entered their rooms, and we did the same.  But as I turned, and before Abbess Batory could close the door and lock it, I noticed in the corner of my eye a young woman, standing at the end of the hallway.  I saw her only for a moment, just as I had seen her before.  For it was the same girl I glimpsed in the night, the same girl I saw as we had passed by the fortress earlier.  But then as quickly as she was there, the door was closed, and she was gone.  I heard a key enter the door’s lock and a tumbler turn, followed by the steady steps of Abbess Batory as she walked off into the darkness.  For a while we simply stood there.  Then, Charles stepped forward, putting his hand on the door.  He looked at me, but I simply shrugged.  He jiggled the door handle a couple times and then pushed against it.  Nothing. 

“Well, old boy, I guess we are stuck here for the night.”

“It would appear so,” I said.

I looked around the room.  To say that it was sparsely decorated would be an understatement.  There was a large bed in the corner.  Of that, I was thankful, as it appeared we would be sharing it in the night.  Other than that, there was a desk and a chair, several candles, a lantern which was lit, and a window with a ledge just large enough to sit upon.  It struck me I saw no crucifix, no icons, no images of Christ or the Saints, and no Bible.  Apparently this room had gone unused for some time. 

“Well,” Charles said, “I doubt anyone would call these luxurious accommodations.” 

He pushed gingerly down on the mattress on which he would sleep. It creaked and groaned, even with his gentle prodding.   

“Could you expect more from a convent?”

“I suppose not,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I wonder how long it will be until the Father returns.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, walking to the window ledge.  I peered off into the night.  If there were a moon, it was hidden, and in the darkness I could see nothing.  “We can hope it will be soon.”

“Yes, though I suppose we are here for the duration.  So,” Charles said, and I could tell he was changing the subject, “what of Anna?”

“What
of
Anna?” I asked. 

“I find her . . . intoxicating,” Charles said with a grin. 

I leaned against the window sill and stared at him. 

“She is quite beautiful, Charles.  But as you are all too well aware, she is also engaged.  And Vladimir does not strike me as a particularly honest man.”

“How so?” Charles asked, as if he did not know.

“Well, let us say he is a man who knows what he seeks and is ceaseless in the seeking of it.  And, if I had to wager on the point, doubtless not all of his gains were made honestly.  He is a dangerous man, Charles.  I know you are accustomed to getting what you want when you want it, but we are not in England.”

Charles nodded absentmindedly.  I knew, as he knew, all I said was true.  But I also knew, despite the danger involved, he would not shy away from Anna when opportunities presented themselves.  It was merely my hope that in doing so neither he nor she would come to any untoward end. 

Oh, what a predicament we were in, I thought.  Here we were, in a foreign land, in a more or less abandoned fortress, on top of a mountain shrouded in darkness and myth, in the hands of strangers, with no means of escape should we need it.  At that thought, I chuckled to myself.