The Dead Travel Fast

I moved aside, but only a little. Whatever Dr. Frankopan did to him, I meant to help.

“Good God, what happened?” Charles demanded, but no one made him a reply.

The count stirred and emitted another deep groan when Dr. Frankopan touched his forearm. The doctor nodded. “As I suspected, as I suspected. His shoulder is out of place.” He nodded towards Florian and Charles. “I shall require help to put it back.”

Charles blanched but stepped forward. “Of course.” Florian stepped forward as well, awaiting the doctor’s instructions.

“I do not like to do this here, but the pain is extraordinary and the joint must be replaced before the muscles stiffen. Stretch out his arm, like this,” he gave a series of detailed instructions, then turned to me. “I think you will not like to watch this. What we must do is most unpleasant.”

“I will stay,” I said, stubbornly, although I regretted it almost instantly. Unpleasant was not the word, I decided, for as they twisted and torqued his arm into the socket, he rose up and gave a great, guttural scream, then lapsed into unconsciousness again, pale as new milk, the blood still streaming from his face.

Charles was unsteady on his feet when they had finished, and even Florian, who had doubtless seen and done his share of unpleasant things upon the farm, seemed shaken and ill at ease.

“It is restored,” said the doctor with some satisfaction. “Now, we must remove him to his bedchamber and assess the rest of his injuries before the lacerations can be repaired.” Dr. Frankopan was a man changed, for he was cool and confident and thoroughly in command of the situation, even when the ladies of the castle appeared in the doorway. The countess gave a deep moan of anguish and would have sunk to her knees but for the support of Frau Amsel. Cosmina stood unsteadily, a dressing gown wrapped about her, her hair untidy and her feet thrust into slippers as if she had risen hastily from her sickbed. Frau Graben had even roused herself from her room next to the kitchens, but it was Tereza who commanded the household’s attention. She pushed her way into the room, raising a shaking finger as she stared at the prone form of the count. She spoke in shrill and rapid Roumanian, but the horror and disbelief in her voice required no translation.

Florian related what she said, murmuring hastily to me in German.

“‘I saw him,’ she says,” he told me. “‘I saw him there upon the observatory. I was making the windows fast as I do every night before I retire. I was at the window in the opposite wing, and I saw him perched upon the edge of the observatory walk. And then I saw him fly!’”

The countess let out a great sob, and Cosmina reached for the doorframe to steady herself. Dr. Frankopan spoke up.

“What do you mean, child? Count Andrei did not fly. He fell from the observatory and was fortunate enough to fall through the window. He might have plunged straight to his death in the valley had he not caught himself,” he said firmly. Tereza blinked at him and he repeated his argument in Roumanian.

But Tereza continued to utter the same phrases she had used before, and I had no need of Florian to know she would not be swayed.

“Child, he did not fly,” Dr. Frankopan said patiently, saying the words over and again in Roumanian and German. “He fell.”

“Or was pushed,” Frau Amsel said, her voice overloud in the quiet room.

There was a gasp, and I think pandemonium might have broken out were it not for the fact that Frau Amsel was pointing to a bit of fabric snagged upon the broken window. She walked over and plucked it free, but I did not need to look upon it to know what she brandished in her hand. Clutched in her triumphant hands was the tartan shawl I had left in the garden draped over a tarragon bush.

17

I did not feel it when the countess slapped me, for I had gone quite numb, and it was only distantly that I heard Charles remonstrate with her angrily. The room spun and jerked around me, faces swam before my eyes, and the only constant was my own voice, repeating over and over again, “But I love him.”

It was Charles who finally guided me away and took me to my chamber, and when we reached the room, he wrenched open the window and pushed my head outside, forcing me to drink in great draughts of the cold, crisp air until my head cleared. At last he drew me back in, and pressed a flask upon me.

“Good Scottish whisky,” he said firmly. I drank deeply of it, and the room cleared at last.

“I do not understand,” I said, my voice thin and feeble.

“Neither do I,” he told me, his expression grim. “But it is best to stay here quietly until someone comes.”

I did as he bade me, sitting upon my hands to stop them shaking and listening to the little clock tick off the hours. The night was half gone when there was a rap at the door and Dr. Frankopan entered, his cuffs folded back and smeared with blood. His blood, I thought wildly, and for an instant I was certain the doctor had come to tell me he had died.

“Is he dead?” I demanded.

Dr. Frankopan gave me an odd look. “Dead? Of course not. He suffered a dislocation of the shoulder and some rather severe cuts and bruises, but nothing he cannot overcome with rest and good care.”

I sagged into my chair, murmuring an Ave under my breath. If nothing else, the Carpathians would teach me religion, I thought wildly.

Dr. Frankopan drew a chair next to me and motioned for Charles to sit with us as well. “I have spoken to the countess, for it is she who rules during her son’s indisposition. She apologises for her outburst and begs you will understand a mother’s hysteria.”

“She does not think me responsible then?” I asked, dizzy with relief.

Dr. Frankopan’s response was carefully phrased. “She does not know what to think as yet. She wishes to make no decisions until her son has regained consciousness and can speak for himself as to what happened upon the observatory walk.”

“Tereza!” I said suddenly. “Tereza must have seen that I was not there when the count fell. She may absolve me.”

Dr. Frankopan shook his head sorrowfully. “Tereza saw nothing. I questioned her closely, and she saw nothing but the count.”

I lapsed back into my chair, feeling a thousand years old. “What am I to do until the count rouses and can clear my name?”

He shrugged. “It would be best for everyone if you were confined to your room. It would bring a greater ease to the family if you were not at liberty.”

“I am to be held prisoner until he wakes?” I asked, incredulous. It seemed impossible, and I looked to Charles to support me.

“I think it is for the best,” he said, to my astonishment.

“Charles! You cannot think that I-”

“Of course not,” he was quick to reply, using the same tone one might to soothe a fractious horse or a fretful babe. “But this is a necessary expedient. I must insist that Theodora not be locked in without visitors,” he said firmly to Dr. Frankopan. “She will receive regular visits from me, and writing materials and books besides. And anything else she should require for her comfort,” he finished.

“Naturally, naturally. The countess wishes her to think of herself as a guest still,” Dr. Frankopan said, his relief almost palpable. He had expected a fight then. But I had none left in me to give him, for all that mattered to me in that moment was that the count should live.

“Very well. I will sit quietly until I am bade to leave,” I promised.

Dr. Frankopan took his leave then with Charles, and after the door was shut, I heard the turn of the key in the lock, the loneliest, most frightening sound I had ever heard. I was a prisoner in the Castle Dragulescu.

Charles was the first to break in upon my solitude the next day when he carried in my breakfast. I had finally lapsed into sleep just before dawn, and it was very nearly noon before he roused me.

“You needed your rest,” he explained, when I scolded him for not waking me sooner.

“I know. And I know you are the only friend I have at present. Pay no mind to my churlishness. I do not mean