Morning
Still further into his infernal dream sank Dracula, revisiting the nightmare and the dark remembrance of how his cursed life had come to pass.
Poisoned with a curse and the fertility of his madness, Vlad was in full retreat before the Ottoman armies; his paranoia grew upon him and snatched the last of his humanity. Believing his Saxon countrymen were collaborators with the Ottoman sultan, he laid waste to their villages and provoked a slaughter unmatched in man's history. None before were his equal in savagery. No fiend had meted out more sublime tortures or teased out such agonies. Nor had the witnesses heard shrieks more bloodcurdling than those of his victims.
Dracula's soldiers herded these doomed Saxons together, forcing them to disrobe and corralling them at spear point. At the same time, others of Dracula's soldiers hastened to the surrounding forests. There they fashioned the impaling stakes. Those prisoners who did not disrobe quickly enough were summarily hacked to death with shovels or beheaded from behind with serrated daggers. The villagers knew well their fate, but as the first prisoners were brought to the reckoning and skewered artfully onto the sharpened poles, a cry of despair filled all the spaces between heaven and earth. Some squat to let loose their paralyzed bowels. Others stood and prayed to their god, their feet wandering in steaming piles of excrement. Thus were the forests of the impaled erected.
****
But Dracula was once a modern man; he'd chosen logic over superstition, reason over religious fanaticism.
While at the university in Siena, he befriended a young Egyptian student.
Ammon told stories about treasures that existed in tombs forgotten to time. The Valley of the Kings. He talked of a map passed from father to son through his family's generations until it came to his grandfather, Habib.
For fear of the Pharoah's curse, Habib destroyed the map. But, in the act, he'd brought condemnation upon himself--or so he thought. He could not shake the map's details from his thoughts; he could not unknow them. Destroying the map had made him custodian of its furies. Specters flooded his dreams and occupied his waking hours.
Thinking to end his torture, he redrew the map from memory, placed it in a velvet-lined box, and hid it in a limestone cavern he'd discovered while herding goats. He prayed for his antagonists to accept his offering and release their hold on him. But the specters continued to haunt him. His delusions grew, and he fell prey to madness. He often visited the map's hiding place, believing himself a Pharoah, experiencing states of rapture as he held his lamp aloft and imagined ingots of gold.
As a dying old man, Habib revealed the map's location to Ammon's father, Omar, who thought it fanciful, retrieved the map, and then gave it to Ammon as a novelty.
Dracula was a discerning listener and thought Ammon's stories plausible. Imaginings of the described treasures would not leave his mind. Ammon assured Dracula that he could guide an expedition to the valley if Vlad would fund it. Dracula devised a plan, promising Ammon a share in whatever treasure they might discover. Curses are for the dammed!
But, once inside the smoldering crucible, Dracula falls victim to the curse. In the malignant underground corridors where the Litany of Re and the Book of the Gates were shadow murals in the dying light of his lantern, Dracula felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He lifted his lantern to Ammon's startled face.
"We must leave this place, brother," Ammon said, stepping backward.
But Dracula pushed on, first to the antechamber and then to the burial chamber where infinitude awaited. Worse was his arrogation of the Egyptian book of curses, through which he opened the world to shadows and summoned Desponia from on high to join in his slaughters. Only by degrees did his need for blood grow. Only by degrees did his mortality drain away and his cruelty increase. His presence at the head of a column dispirited his enemies, for here was the Impaler and his terrible message. Here was the unholy war machine, ready to dip his bread in the blood of any that opposed him.
It came to pass that Ammon took his own eyes with a dagger, and thus did he rant and foam until those who'd loved him ended his suffering with a rain of stones.
****
The sun climbed the horizon with plains of maize leaning to her light. Falcons dove through cloud breaks as a sparrow lit on a cart and snatched a seed within the curtain walls. Ehrlich watched from a rampart as village workers collected in the shadow of Dracula's fortress. He signaled the gatehouse to lower the drawbridge and started down a ladder.
The workers assembled themselves in a single file as Ehrlich counted heads and gave the tradespeople, artisans, and laborers permission to enter the yard. The stable doors flew open as a large woman drew water from a well. A blacksmith added coal to a glowing forge. A maid proceeded to the great hall with her cleaning basket.
Meanwhile, in the castle's largest bedchamber, Desponia pressed against her gypsy's body, sweeping Luminita's hair from the nape of her neck and inhaling her fragrance. The platinum clasp on Luminita's necklace shone in the window's light, and the pearls clicked as she stirred.
"I want porridge,"
"And you shall have it," replied Desponia, "but first, you must meet a friend."
"A friend?"
