mention of their name. When horses or cattle went missing, sometimes even people, everyone
would whisper that it was the work of the Razan. Mothers would use their name to frighten
naughty children. 'The Razan will get you!' Yet nobody really knew who they were. Our priest
said that they were evil magicians from Algiers who knew the dark ways of wizards and
witches. But I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir, please carry on with your story.'
Stroking his wispy beard, the comte continued. 'One hears all manner of tales about the
Razan; some say they are from Africa, others, from the mountains of Carpathia. I think a lot
of these things are fables, put about by the Razan themselves to instill fear in ignorant
peasants. I myself have had reports of them putting spells on folk, turning men, women and
children into fishes, beasts or birds. They prey on superstition and rule simple minds by terror
of the unknown.'
Returning the signet ring to his index finger, the aged nobleman sighed. 'My brother,
Edouard, was frightened of nothing. Whilst he was being nursed by the Razan—who must
have known who he was, or they would have slain him just for his horse and weapons—
Edouard was smitten with love for a Razan girl. She was the only daughter of the Razan, and
very beautiful. Ruzlina, for that was her name, would have none attending Edouard but
herself. Her mother, Maguda, must have seen the possibilities of allowing them to be together.
It would be an easy, and legal, way for the Razan to gain a foothold in Veron, a village they
had long coveted. Together, Ruzlina and Edouard went through a form of ceremony that
passes for marriage among the Razan. He brought his new bride back here when he was fully
recovered. How that girl had lived among such a wicked brood as the Razan, I'll never know.
She was honest, true and gentle-natured—I could readily understand why my brother had
fallen in love with her. They both lived happily in this place for nigh on two years.
'Then tragedy struck the house of Bregon.' Here the comte paused, as if finding it difficult to
continue.
Ned went to him, laying his head on the old man's lap and gazing up at him with soft,
sympathetic eyes as he contacted Ben. 'The poor fellow, see the sorrow in his face?'
Ben nodded and placed a gentle hand on their host's shoulder. 'Tragedy, sir?'
Dabbing his eyes with a kerchief, the comte explained. 'Ruzlina died giving birth to her first
child. It was a son. Edouard was so stricken with grief that he could not bear to look upon the
child. He locked himself away in his chambers. Mathilde and I cared for the newborn baby,
christened Adamo. It was a sad household, my young friends, full of sorrow and mourning, as
if a light had gone from all our lives. Then, not more than three days after Ruzlina's death, her
kin, Maguda the mother and four of her brothers, appeared as if by magic on the steps of this
house. I have never beheld a more sinister or barbaric-looking woman than Maguda Razan—
she was the very picture of a witch. Dressed in black weeds of mourning, with her face
painted in strange symbols, she pounded upon my door with her staff. Edouard would not
leave his rooms to talk or even look upon her. She claimed the body of her daughter to take
back to the mountains for burial in the Razan family vault. I could not refuse her this request.
But it was her other demand that I could not bring myself to grant. She wanted little Adamo!'
Dominic stared at the old man anxiously. 'You didn't let her have him, did you, sir?'
A defiant glimmer entered the comte's eyes. 'No! I would not give up a newborn infant to
murderous robbers, never! Maguda and her brothers departed with Ruzlina's body in a casket.
The brothers were silent, but Maguda Razan screamed like a wounded tigress. She called
down all manner of curses upon Edouard, me and the house of Bregon. The villagers were so
frightened that they ran away and hid. She made smoke and fire appear from the air, yelling
vengeance and death, blaming my brother for the loss of her daughter. Then the Razan were
gone—they vanished, leaving behind only smoke clouds and burning ashes.'
Karay could not help but ask, 'So was that the end of it, sir?'
Shaking his head, the aged nobleman answered her. 'No, child, that was only the start. Bregon
was plagued by thefts and fires and all kinds of wicked doings. No matter how I barred the
gates or stationed guards on the walls, the Razan would find their way in. However, I
surrounded this house with armed men—I would not give up my nephew, Adamo.'
Ben smiled. 'I wager you were very fond of him, sir.'
The comte resorted to wiping his eyes; his voice went husky. 'Fond? The child meant more to
me than life itself. He was raven-haired and dark of eye. Even as a baby, Adamo had a huge
physique, strong and big-boned. But he was a calm child, very very silent. He never cried, or
laughed out loud, or even chuckled. Doctors looked at him and assured me that he had the
power of speech, that he was not born mute. Yet he never made a sound—well, hardly.
Sometimes he would call Mathilde ' 'Tilde,' poor little fellow. My brother Edouard could not
bear to be in his own son's presence, can you imagine that?'
Ben felt he had to ask the question. 'What became of Edouard?'
The comte turned the ring on his finger. 'This ring belonged to Edouard. He wore it on his
little finger, yet it is far too large for my index finger. This will give you an indication of his
size. However, he was brought down by a single sip of wine. It was the work of the Razan,
I'm sure of it. Somehow, one of them entered this house, got into his rooms and poisoned the
wine. This took place two years to the day after his wife died. Now, let me tell you the final,
and most awful, part of this sad story. On the day we buried him, Mathilde was preparing
food whilst I was at the funeral. It was a bright warm afternoon, and she let little Adamo play
on a rug out in the garden, where she could see him from the kitchen window. But the
moment she looked away, he was gone!'
Ben spoke as the thought from Ned crossed his mind. 'The Razan!'
The comte nodded, then leaned forward, resting his forehead on both hands. 'That was
eighteen years ago this summer. I have not seen the boy since, nor heard news of him.'
Ben felt enormous pity for the comte of Bregon, but he was slightly puzzled. 'Did you not go
out and search for him, sir?'
Closing his eyes wearily, the old fellow replied. 'The Razan sent me a message—it appeared
on an arrow, shot over the walls. If I tried to leave Bregon, they would invade it and take my
village for themselves. A lock of the boy's hair was with the note, to prove they had him. I
sent out two pair of brave men. They never returned. So, now you see my dilemma. I am a
prisoner in my own village, and I don't know, after all these long years, whether Adamo is
even alive!'
They sat in silence, feeling enormous sympathy for the aged nobleman's predicament. The
comte remained immobile, still with his eyes closed and both hands supporting his forehead
as he leaned on the table. Faint sounds of the market fair drifted in on the sun-warmed
noontide air. Outside in the garden, the thrush had been joined in song by a blackbird.
Ben communicated with Ned. 'Well, now we know what the angel guided us here for. We
must help this good man to get his nephew back. What d'you think, mate?'
The dog lifted his head from the old man's lap as he answered. 'Just show me a Razan and I'll
put a spell on the seat of his britches. I like this old gentleman, Ben—we must help him. I'm
with you, and I'll bet that Karay and Dom are too!'
It was Ben who broke the silence. 'Do you know where the Razan make their home in the
mountains, sir?'
Opening his eyes, the comte sat up straight. 'The only one of our family who knew that was
my brother, and he would not have found the place had not the Razan carried him there when
he was injured. Edouard said that it was high in the Pyrenees, somewhere 'twixt Viella and
Monte Maladeta, not far over the Spanish border.'
Ben looked to Dominic. 'Are you familiar with that area?'
Shaking his head, the facemaker replied, 'Sabada, where I come from, is southwest of that
