Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 20 - Wings of the Raven

“I share your amusement,” the baron said. “For vampires and werewolves are nothing but superstition to us Frenchmen. I must ask Princess Feodora about it tomorrow. Perhaps this area is shielded from such childish notions.”

“It must be,” Yves said. “For most people are hysterically fearful of those undead bloodsuckers. We usually see garlic, crosses and rose thorns strewn about everywhere. But not here.”

“It is comforting,” the baron said. “And how wonderful that we have met someone who speaks French. The princess seems very cultured. I look forward to visiting her tomorrow.”

Yves was more sceptical. “Did you notice how strict she was with the young girl? That poor child was so subdued, it was such a shame.”

“No, I didn’t notice. I only noticed the beautiful Feodora.”

Yves was still a little uneasy. “Wasn’t our plan to ride on at daybreak?”

“That’s true, but we cannot insult such a fine lady.”

“The daughter of a voivode ...” Yves mused. “What is a voivode?”

“It is a very distinguished rank. Originally it was a military commander. Then the title was given to someone elected to office, something like a prince, governing a large area.”

“But why would such a person choose to reside in a godforsaken village like this? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Her father was the ruler. She may have retreated here for a reason we don’t know. But we will leave the village as soon as we have made our visit to the two ladies. They will probably also be able to tell us how we can get to Hermannstadt, or Sibiu, or Nagyszeben, or whatever they call it here.”

A few minutes later, the baron’s steady breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep. Yves could not sleep. For one thing, he had a pain on his right side again. It was something he had suffered from several times during the journey and the pangs were becoming more frequent. For another thing, he could not stop thinking about the young Nicola who, without words, had so clearly pleaded for his help.

Was she a spirited young girl who didn’t care to be kept on a tight rein? Or was she truly suffering?

Yves was inclined to believe the latter.

It was so frighteningly silent here! And then that forest. A sense of unease overcame Yves at the thought of having to ride through that area again in order to get out of the valley. Well, they would just have to be sure to leave while it was still daylight, then it would be all right.

Up in the mountains he could hear a wolf howling, and being answered by many others. He knew that Siebenbürgen was a habitat for many wild animals. Both the forests and the plains teemed with wolves.

Well, at least the sound was a sign of life, he thought with a desperate kind of humour. For he had never experienced a silence quite like the one that reigned here!

Vampires ... Yves understood that there was no need to think about those lovable little creatures here. But there was something else ...

There was something sickening about the whole place. The forest was just part of it.

And then that poor young girl who was scared out of her wits.

Nicola knew something.

Yves would do everything he could to get her out of this frightening, mysterious place.

His uncle could say what he wanted, Yves intended to take the girl with them when they left.

Chapter 2

Yves was woken at daybreak by the worst pain he had ever suffered. And right here, in this village in the middle of nowhere! There probably wasn’t a single soul with medical expertise for miles around. And if there were, they would probably know more about witchcraft than anything else.

Yves could do without that sort of advice.

The pain grew so bad that he had to wake his uncle. All morning his uncle was kept busy bringing warm blankets for Yves or running downstairs to empty the wooden pail that stood next to his bed.

The uncle wasn’t too pleased with that job. But he was also worried. The thought of losing his travelling companion was unbearable to him. So they both gave a sigh of relief when the pain subsided around noon.

Yves fell back on his pillows, exhausted. His lips were grey and his voice weak.

“I’m feeling better now, uncle. But I don’t think I have the energy to go with you to visit the two ladies.”

“No, of course not, I understand. Would you rather I stayed here with you?”

“There’s no need. But as soon as we get to a town I will have to consult a doctor. It’s a shame ... I would so much like to have done something for that stifled little creature, Nicola. Perhaps you could try to find out what the story is? And if you think the girl is being harmed, try to help her get out of this village!”

The baron made an impatient face. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “But I never found out where they live. Well, I suppose it’s just a matter of following the road – eventually I’m bound to reach a house or another village.”

“Will you greet them for me and give them my apologies?”

“Of course. Now try to get some sleep.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Yves was right. He fell asleep almost immediately after the baron left the room.

It was dark when Yves woke again.

That is to say, it wasn’t entirely dark. The sky had started to grow light in the east: the sun was about to rise.

I have slept for almost twenty-four hours, Yves thought, alarmed. What will my uncle say about that? He must be furious with me!

But the baron was not in his bed and it did not look as though it had been slept in at any time during the night. His uncle’s everyday waistcoat and sword were still lying where he had placed them before he left.

Outside, Yves could hear the staff of the inn getting ready for a new day. He quickly got dressed and found, with relief, that the pain in his side was now just a dull throb. He rushed down to the taproom.

The innkeeper’s wife was there, busily cleaning.

Damn, if only he knew their language! Or they could speak French!

Some girls were busy in the kitchen, carrying the laundry out. An old man was unloading vegetables.

Once again, Yves was struck by how many women there were and how few men. And what men there were were either extremely old or small boys or downright hideous.

Had it not been for a few comparatively young but ugly men he had seen in the square on the day they arrived, Yves would have thought that the country had recently been at war and lost all the men in the prime of life.

He falteringly asked the innkeeper’s wife whether she had seen his companion.

“My uncle! The baron!”

He pointed to his side to indicate his companion.

The innkeeper’s wife merely shook her head and continued sweeping the floor.

The host came in from the kitchen and asked by gestures whether Yves wanted something to eat.

Yves said no, but that he wanted to know where the baron was.

“Aha,” the innkeeper said as his face lit up, whereupon he gave a long explanation in his incomprehensible native tongue. Still, Yves was able to catch a word here and there, for Romanian and French are both Romance languages and have some words in common.

The man pointed in the direction of the big cliff face. I see, thought Yves, and thanked him. They had seen the uncle ride in that direction but they hadn’t seen whether he had returned.

But that had been the day before yesterday! Had the baron really been gone for half a day and a whole night without getting word to the ailing Yves?

The innkeeper disappeared again – suspiciously quickly, now that Yves thought about it. He was troubled by all of this. Was this place nothing but a confounded nest of robbers, where they attacked their guests, plundering their fortunes? Had they been robbed ...?