“I thought István loved me and we would be happy forever. I truly believe that he did love me in the beginning, but when I failed to give birth to the heir he desired, his love faded.”
Her voice trembled, and I reached out to take her hand to soothe her. She did not take her gaze from the fire, but fastened it even more firmly to the dancing flames.
“Years passed and I had no children. István eventually stopped coming to me and would instead lay with a young woman he had brought into our home. Her name was Piroska. At first, I did not mind her so very much.”
“I do not understand. How could you allow his mistress into your home?” I shook my head, shocked at the mere proposition of such a thing. I could barely comprehend how easily Vlad and the women embraced polygamy as the norm.
“It was my husband’s right to have a heir,” Cneajna said with a slight smile on her lips. “As the years passed, she gave birth not only to one son, but to three. I was still without child. Piroska began to torment me with her snide words. Then she began to usurp my position within the household. If my cousin had not been King of Hungary, I think István would have turned me out in favor of Piroska.”
“That is too horrible, dear Cneajna. You did not deserve that! He was an utter beast to you!” I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She smiled at me, and I was relieved until I saw the tear trickling down her cheek that she did not even seem to notice.
“He would often ridicule me in her presence. He would say my beauty was wasted and that I should be as dry and shriveled as my womb.” Her eyes were riveted on the flames, watching as they writhed and danced before her. “Piroska would taunt me without mercy and belittle me before my servants. She took my chambers and I was forced to move into her small rooms. She took my gowns and jewels and rose up to control my household. I was frustrated and angry. I begged István to come to me, to give me a chance to have his child. At last, he did. To my delight, soon after, I was with child. I was so happy I could barely contain my excitement.” More tears fell and Cneajna’s face seemed almost human: vulnerable and soft. “Then, one day, Piroska came to me and demanded that I stay away from her child. The youngest, János, had become too fond of me and she was jealous. We argued and she pushed me. I fell to the floor and began to bleed. By nightfall, I had lost my child. My only child.” Her words faded as she ran her hand over her features and realized she was crying. Slowly, she wiped her tears on the coverlet, and sighed. “I was devastated, but István was disgusted with me. I tried to tell him that Piroska had pushed me, but he would not listen. He never touched me again.”
“Oh, Cneajna, how utterly awful for you. Could you not return to the home of your family?”
She shook her head. “No, no. My parents had long passed from the world and my brothers were busy fighting the Turks. I thought of going to Matyas and begging for sanctuary in his household, but, alas, I was too proud. So I suffered in my own home and watched another woman live the life I should have had.”
I began to understand the great emptiness in Cneajna’s eyes: her quiet desperation and pain. Her vampiric life was a pale reflection of the life she had craved as a mortal. A household of servants, a strong husband, and children…but in this reality she had gypsies as servants, a vampire lord as a husband, and young vampire brides as children. It was an utter mockery of her heart’s desire, but she could not see that.
“One day,” she continued, “Piroska came to me and told me she was pregnant once more. She was mocking me, laughing at me, dressed in my clothes, wearing my jewels, carrying my husband’s child. I could not stand the sight of her anymore. I had been eating my meal when she had entered and did not realize I still clutched a knife in my hand. I meant to slap her, but instead, I slashed her cheek. Her blood splashed me as she began to scream. I do not know how to explain what happened, but the sight of her blood and the sound of her screams only seemed to fuel my anger against her. I slashed her face again and she fell to the floor, and before I realized what I was doing, I brought the knife down over and over again until she was silent.”
Her words chilled me and her expression frightened me. I could almost see her kneeling over her enemy, bringing the dagger down over and over again. I could vividly feel the intensity of her anger. I understood all to well the desperation to destroy the one who was destroying you. How many times had I fantasized of killing Vlad and shedding his blood?
Cneajna wiped a tear away, and said in a tremulous voice, “When my husband entered the room to find out why Piroska was screaming, he found me kneeling over her with the knife still in my hands. What horrified him most, he said later, was that I was licking the drops of her blood from my lips.”
“She drove you to it,” I declared. “She was so cruel to you. I do not know how you could have stood it! I would have been mad with anger.”
Cneajna began to laugh, a bitter sound. “But can you not see, Glynis, I was mad. I was so insane with my jealousy and desperation I murdered Piroska and felt no remorse. My husband was horrified at what I had done, but he did not kill me as I expected. Instead, he took me to King Matyas. My cousin was not as mortified as my husband. As a king who had fought for his throne, he knew what it meant to desire something so desperately you would kill to achieve it. But I had to be punished. Matyas sent me to Visegrád, to his summer palace. I was to be kept there until I died. I was not to leave the palace grounds. It was not a true punishment. I loved it there. It was so beautiful and serene with its beautiful views and red marble fountains. It was heaven compared to the hell I had lived through. I would go down to the Danube River and sit there for hours in the sun.”
“Were you happy?”
“I was at peace. Yet, not happy. That came later. One day, as I sat beside the Danube, another prisoner, a man I had only heard of in passing, sat down beside me on the riverbank. His name was Vlad Tepes, son of Dracul. He asked me why I was at the palace and why the servants would not speak of me when he asked them my name. I told him I was a murderess and he did not seem upset by that confession.”
“Of course not,” I sniffed daintily.
Cneajna smiled at the memory. “No, he would not be. I told him what I had done and he said that Piroska deserved her death for usurping my authority and murdering my unborn child. He was the only person who ever fully understood why I had to kill Piroska. We spoke often during our captivity. I found him to be the most incredible man. He was determined to rule his own people in Wallachia and push back the Turk invaders. It was not long before I loved him and he loved me. I would have been his wife, but I was still married to István and Matyas would not allow it. Instead, Vlad married Ilona Szilagy, a cousin to both Matyas and myself. I understood why he had to do this. He wanted Matyas to help him regain his land and he needed to form a bond to the family. When he left, freed of his imprisonment, he swore to me he would one day return for me.”
“But why was he imprisoned?”
“When the Turks overran Wallachia, Vlad had fled to Hungary to appeal to my cousin for help. My cousin instead imprisoned him for his own reasons. That is why I met Vlad. I wrote long letters to Matyas, appealing to him, begging him to release Vlad and allow him to once more conquer Wallachia and save his people from the Turks. In the end, he must have listened, for Vlad was released and as I said, he married one of my relatives.”
I pondered her words. “So, Vlad was a great warrior for Wallachia.”
“A great warrior and a king. He built this castle during his reign and all the land that surrounds it was his to rule.”
No wonder he is so arrogant, I thought. “When did he return for you?”
Cneajna sighed. “I heard of his death at the hands of assassins sent by the Turks by letter from my cousin. Vlad had once more become ruler of Wallachia, and I knew he had achieved what he had desired most: to push back the Turks, kill his brother Radu, and reclaim his throne. I was devastated to read that his head was taken by the Turks to Constantinople and impaled on a stake over the city. I threw myself to the ground and was inconsolable. I wept for days until I could cry no more. I was so despondent; I would not eat or sleep. I would sit in my room and reread all the letters he had sent to me after he had been freed from Matyas' custody. He had been faithful in his correspondence and my heart would always beat faster when I saw his seal upon my letters. And then, one last letter, posted before his death, arrived. He wrote that I was always in his thoughts and that he wanted me to be with me until death and beyond for eternity. He said no woman he had known had understood his torment as I had. I was the only woman that knew what it was to taste the blood of one’s enemy after vanquishing them. I cried bitter tears as I read the letter. I thought I would go mad with grief.”
“And then he came, did he not?”
“Yes. I fell asleep in my bedroom and dreamed only of death. Then, in the darkness of my despair, I woke to feel his lips against mine. I was thrilled to see him, yet confused. I knew he was supposed to be dead, yet, he kissed my tears away and held me tightly against him. There was another in the room. A beautiful woman with raven hair and eyes like fire.”
“Erzsébet.”
“Yes, Erzsébet. She was powerful and I knew she was not mortal. Her eyes were like fire and when I looked into Vlad’s eyes, I saw the same fire. I was afraid, but he kissed me and whispered he had come to claim me as his own. When I felt his teeth pierce my neck, I knew he loved me.” She began to cry again as I wrapped my arms around her.
“Do not cry, Cneajna. Please, do not cry!”
“Do you not see, Glynis? He gave me back everything I had lost. The position as the first wife of his household, even over Erzsébet; she who was his first companion in his vampire life. He gave me everything I wanted: fine jewels, beautiful clothes and children. You and Ariana and Elina are my children. I love all of you. And more importantly, Vlad gave me eternal life, eternal beauty, and the eternal hope that someday, we shall rise up and rule as we once did.”
I could not speak. I was overcome by the emotions I felt flowing out of Cneajna. In so many ways we had both been confined by the restrictive rules of our societies, but where Cneajna saw her vampire life as freedom, I saw it as one more prison. Cneajna was content in this dark world and I was not. Where Cneajna loved Vlad for freeing her from her mortal life, I hated him for entrapping me in this vampire life.
“So, you see, dearest Glynis, we must do as he wishes, for in the end he will do what is best for us. He is wise. He is strong. As long as you obey him, he will not have reason to destroy your brother. He may even show favor to him and make him immortal, and then you would be with your beloved brother forever. You must do Vlad’s bidding and not complain. And soon, you will love him as I do.”
I did not, could not, respond to the fervent whispers of the vampire. I only listened and hardened my heart against Vlad. Even though Cneajna did not realize it, Vlad had trapped her in a prison more restrictive than her own cousin had at Visegrád. I am determined to escape Vlad at all cost.
I now realize I cannot openly defy him. I must curb my wicked tongue, even more than before. I will have to be cunning and shrewd to outwit him and eventually escape. I will have to be clever indeed, not merely subservient and hope for the best. All this I understood and took to heart as she spoke to me.
“Promise me, dear Glynis, promise me, you will obey him! That you will not harbor ill will against him and understand your place here,” she begged me fervently.
I looked into her anguished eyes, nodding slowly. “I promise, Cneajna. I will obey him.” I hoped that my eyes did not glow with my fiery resolve.
Chapter 17
The Journal of Angeline Wright
27th of November, 1819
Today was utterly dreadful. The news the post brought has devastated us to our core. I can barely stand my own despair. Even my child seemed distressed within me and I forced myself to rest for a few hours in the afternoon. How can one endure losing three members of one’s family without going mad?
I finally rose and sought out my grieving husband. It was his wracking sobs that drew me to the doorway of the parlor. My own tears were wet upon my cheeks. My bare feet were silent against the floor as I padded toward him, one hand supporting my heavy stomach. The child within me stirred briefly, then settled down once more.
“Andrew, dearest?”
He did not move. Sprawled in a chair, his face in one hand, the other clutching the fateful letter from his only surviving sister, my dear husband was weeping for his family.
Oh, how dreadful is the parcel we received just this morn! I wish it had never arrived; that we had never opened it; that we had not found the letters within. There had been three letters: one from Sir Stephen of Buda, a letter from our beloved Glynis, and the last from Count Vlad Dracula. Sir Stephen’s correspondence had been a brief letter of condolence. It had confused my husband until he had opened Glynis’ letter and read of his family’s demise in a tragic carriage accident on Bârgau Pass. He had instantly become inconsolable. I had to literally pry the letter from his fingers to read it.
I moved to the table where Susanna had laid out a tea tray for us. I could see he had touched nothing.