“The explanation is evil!” he replied, dropping my hands abruptly. I noticed then that he had gone quite pale and sweat had begun to bead upon his brow. He wore his usual red coat with the brass buttons, and I wondered if he ought to remove it.
“Dr. Frankopan, you are unwell. Let me call for Madame Popa,” I began.
He waved me away and drew a green silk handkerchief from his pocket. “No, no. It is only that I become too excited sometimes. Because I am afraid,” he finished in a whisper.
I caught my breath on a sudden inspiration. “You believe it has already begun,” I said.
He flinched. “Absolutely not, absolutely not. Do not even suggest such a thing.”
“But it has happened before,” I prodded.
He nodded, still wiping at his brow. “Yes, yes, it has. It was a dark time for us. It happened when the old count, Mircea, died.”
“The present count’s grandfather? When Count Bogdan became the reigning count?”
“Yes. I see you are well-versed in our history,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “There was trouble then. Dark deeds were done, but in time all was made right again. The people began to forget. But I am afraid, now that Count Bogdan is dead…” He trailed off, too distressed to continue.
But I was too engrossed in the conversation to leave off. “What do you fear?” I asked softly.
He pressed the handkerchief to his lips for a long moment, then burst out, as if a dam had broken. “The
“You are afraid he will become a
Dr. Frankopan replaced the handkerchief in his pocket. “I know you must think me a silly old man, a silly old man indeed. But I have seen much in my long life, and some of these things I do not wish to see again.”
I pressed his hand. “I understand.”
“I fear most for the family,” he said earnestly. “If Bogdan walks, he will destroy them. Just the possibility could send them into madness. The Dragulescus are, in the end, people of the mountain. They pretend to be worldly and educated, they want to be sophisticated, but the truth is they are no different from the woodcutter in his cottage. They will work themselves into a frenzy over this. Madness is no stranger to this family. It is a weakness that runs in the blood. If they must sit, waiting for this dreadful thing to walk among them, they will make themselves mad.”
“So it is for Count Andrei and the countess you fear most?”
“I fear for all of them. Hysteria is a contagious thing, my dear. It can settle into a house like a disease and it will poison the atmosphere until none are left who can resist it. But you can.”
He grasped my hands again, this time in supplication. His palms were cool and smooth, like new paper.
“You are not of this place. You are from the cold grey north, where common sense and order prevail.”
“I am not so sensible as all that,” I protested.
“You are a great deal more sensible than any of the Dragulescus,” he said with a rueful smile. “I love them dearly. They are family to me as much as my own kin. But I cannot be there at all times to keep watch over them. You are the only one who can do that now.”
I made to pull my hands away but he held them fast. “I am not asking for extraordinary heroics, child. All you need do is keep your wits about you, and if something seems not quite right, send for me. I have my duties in the village, and sometimes I am called far from home for my patients. I cannot keep as close as I would like.”
I did not like the notion of spying upon my hosts for this man, no matter how kindly his manner. He must have sensed my hesitation, for he released my hands, and gentled his tone.
“I do not ask you to break any confidence or to meddle. I only ask that you be watchful, and that if you see something peculiar, you will tell me. Is that so much to ask of you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “The Dragulescus are very lucky to have someone who cares so deeply for their happiness.”
His plump face was wreathed in smiles. “How happy you have made me! Come, we will have another cup of tea and talk of pleasanter things.”
I left the good doctor some time later, wrapping myself warmly against the late-afternoon chill. The sun had sunk low and I realised I must hurry if I meant to make the castle before dusk. I told myself I hastened because the dangers in the mountains were manifestly greater after dark-rockfalls, a treacherous staircase to ascend, the threat of wolf or lynx or bear. But the truth was that I had taken Dr. Frankopan’s conversation very much to heart. Speaking of such things before a cosy fire in a snug cottage was spine-shivering enough. To dwell upon them on a dark forest path was quite another.
I hurried along, noting the scudding clouds lowering above the castle towers. A storm was gathering and I hastened still faster, chiding myself for tarrying so long at Dr. Frankopan’s comfortable hearth. And with each step I noted the rising wind speaking in the trees. The villagers had fled for the safety of their houses, and though I could see the warm glow of candlelight in their windows and smell the sharp comforts of woodsmoke from their chimneys, I knew I had a cold and lonely climb ahead of me.
Just as I put a foot to the Devil’s Staircase, I heard my name called, the voice carried upon the wind.
“Miss Theodora!” I saw Florian, scrambling quickly down the last steps of the staircase, relief writ in his features. I was happy to see him as well. Florian interested me deeply, both for his little kindnesses and his air of sadness. If Cosmina and I wanted to walk in the garden, Florian was quick to ensure that a bench was scrubbed and the path swept. If we wanted music, he obliged us, sometimes working late into the night upon his ledgers to compensate for these indulgences. He was a gifted musician, and whatever instrument he put his hand to, something quite astonishing issued forth. I had wondered how deeply he mourned the life he had not finished, but I had sensed in him no regret. He seemed to take a solid pride in his work as steward; more than once had we seen him buoyed in spirits because Count Andrei had waved a hand in assent when he had requested some trifle for the villagers that would ease their troubles. No, his sadness seemed to well up from within, as if his very core was fashioned of lamentation, and I had often wished for a chance to speak with him alone, the better to gauge his character.
He put out a hand to me. “We have not much long before the storm come down,” he explained in his quaint English. “We will hurry. You are welcome to my arm.”
I smiled in my relief and availed myself of his kindly offer. “I am very happy to see you,” I told him. “I enjoy a good brisk walk, but I think this will be quite strenuous indeed.”
He said nothing more, and neither did I, for the climb was indeed a strenuous one. Florian proved the perfect companion, stalwartly lending his strength when the pace proved too quick for me, and matching his steps to my own so that I should not be left behind. The sky had blackened alarmingly and the clouds were tinged with a strange, luteous light.
“It is raining hard soon, but we have been fast,” Florian advised me as we gained the last turning towards the top. He looked up and nodded. “We may here rest a moment.” He gestured towards a boulder set just off of the staircase path and gallantly placed his handkerchief upon it for me to sit.
“Thank you,” I said, resting myself gratefully. “I do not think I have yet made that climb so quickly. It was very kind of you to come for me.”
He shrugged. “Miss Cosmina worries. She says you are in village and I am to go.”
And he had seized the opportunity to come alone for me, I reflected, wondering uncomfortably if Florian had developed a
Deliberately, I diverted the conversation. “I spent the afternoon with Dr. Frankopan. He was talking of Teodor Popa.”
To my surprise Florian responded with a grave nod. “Yes. He has gone wolf,” he said soberly, as if commenting upon a spell of bad weather or the loss of a cow. It was nothing extraordinary to him, nothing beyond the pale of possibility.
“Madame Popa seems quite distressed.”
