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

“Can we not wait in your room instead?” he asked.

“Oh, no!” she whispered, alarmed. “You would never be able to get to my room without being seen. Don’t worry, I’ll come to your room!”

That means we’ll have a whole night together in my room, Yves thought eagerly. I won’t let an opportunity like that go to waste!

The dusk fell gently and mysteriously across the valley. Poor Yves looked forward to the evening in all ignorance. He had no idea what spending a night at Stregesti entailed ...

Chapter 3

They stayed up late into the night talking. For much too long a time, Yves thought. The evening fog had long since risen like damp smoke from the valley and the forest. It was too dark to see it now, but you could sense the chill, lingering fingers of the fog quietly moving, fumbling and reaching towards the windows behind the curtains, as though searching longingly for the human warmth inside.

Indoors it was warm, but Yves could not shed his unease, despite the many candles that lit the room. It was as though the walls were dripping with moisture behind the tapestries, as though the dampness was penetrating the animal hides.

But there was something else in the room. Something much worse. Like a smell of earth that became increasingly potent as the night fell and the coldness it brought with it seeped through the walls of the old castle.

It was Princess Feodora who steered the conversation. She was sitting right next to Yves, attractive and mysterious as the glittering lights made her beautiful silk dress shimmer and her eyes sparkle. Yves contributed to the conversation as much as he could; he was gallant and lively and may have charmed her a little too much. He would have to be careful that she wasn’t the one he would end up taking to his room.

Little Nicola sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, a cowed and unhappy little creature. All Yves’ attempts to draw her into the conversation were quickly checked by the princess who answered for her. It irritated Yves tremendously.

On the other hand, he had to be careful not to show too much of an interest in Nicola. The aunt must not grow suspicious! It was a delicate balance between the languishing and jealous princess and the lonesome Nicola. A balance that Yves did not feel he was able to strike.

Princess Feodora knew so much about the history of the place, and it was fascinating to listen to her. However, there were limits! He started to grow nervous.

In her beautiful, soporific voice, the princess told him of the time the castle was attacked by the Turks and the prince prevented the whole of Ardeal from falling into enemy hands. The name of the prince at the time was Boris: he had four wives, and kept each of them in a separate room in the castle for otherwise they would have killed one another, he was so desirable. Yves was to spend the night in one of these rooms. The princess also told him about a prince who had fought in the Battle of Mohács in 1526, when another part of Ardeal came under Turkish rule.

“But Ardeal ended up belonging to Austria-Hungary,” Yves said. “Under the name of Siebenbürger.”

He shouldn’t have said that. It did not seem that Feodora cared to be reminded of it.

He wished she wasn’t sitting so close to him. There was a dreadful feeling of unpleasantness lurking within him that he could not define. Shivers and forebodings of evil and death and catastrophes made his head swim so much that he could barely sit still.

“But where does the name ‘Transylvania’ come from?” he asked. “There are so many different ways to spell it! With one ‘s’ or two, or with ‘i’ or ‘y’ in various combinations.”

“For me the name of the country is Ardeal,” she said curtly. “Everything else is a recent invention.”

Well, that means she isn’t Hungarian, Yves thought. Because the Hungarians called the country Erdély. Ardeal was a Romanian name.

Finally the princess stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. The evening was now at its darkest. Yves was convinced that had there been a device as modern as a clock in this ancient castle, it would have struck midnight a long time ago.

Soon the evening would draw to a close and then the new day would come. A day in which Yves would ride away from here with Nicola sitting in front of him on his saddle!

But first they were to spend the whole night together in his room. Yves grew warm at the thought of it.

On their way to their rooms, carrying candlesticks in their hands, Yves thought how uninterested the princess seemed in the present day and the world outside the castle. He had made several attempts to tell her about his own country and about the Europe through which he had just travelled, but she didn’t seem to care in the least. She lived in the past and didn’t wish to leave it.

It was good that Yves would now be able to help the poor young girl get away from the castle. It would be nice for her. Yves felt that he was being generous and unselfish. Or perhaps he was not. He was bewitched by the girl and simply wanted her.

Now, in the evening, the castle seemed more forbidding than ever as they walked through hall after hall in the flickering light. They went through the gallery again where the ancestors of the family peered down at them from the paintings on the wall. The fluttering shadows made them practically come to life.

There was Bogdan the Wild, who had ridden on horseback on the table to get rid of his enemies. He looked terrifying! His cold gaze followed the three of them as they made their way through the hall. And there was Boris and his four wives – didn’t it seem as though their eyes were moving? Which of them had occupied the room in which Yves was to spend the night? Was it the one wearing the black hat, twisting her mouth in a contemptible, knowing expression?

Anciol, the bride who had been betrayed, was not included in the family portraits, but there was the beautiful woman whom Yves thought resembled Feodora so much – which was not so strange since she was her first ancestress. And then came the painting of the three brothers who had been decapitated by the Turks at Mohács. All this the princess had told him about earlier that day, with undisguised delight.

Yves was relieved when they left the gallery, but wondered how he was to find his way back from his room when he made his escape in the early hours of the morning. Ah, but he would have Nicola with him, so it would probably all be fine.

If only it were all over and done with now!

They finally reached his room. Yves shuddered. What was it that nearly frightened him to death?

There was nothing to see. The room was small and dominated by a canopy bed with black, carved bedposts. The walls were covered with tapestries, in this case with hunting themes, but the bloody scenes didn’t bother him because he had no feeling for animals.

No, it was the sickening undercurrent in the room that frightened him. Was it an odour or just stale air he could smell? He couldn’t tell.

“You should find everything you need in here,” said Princess Feodora, in a last attempt to win his favours. That was at least how Yves perceived it.

But to no avail, my beauty, you are not the one I want! You ought to have understood that by now!

But he was also a little bit afraid. Princess Feodora was not to be trifled with! Imagine if she really could practise witchcraft! Then he was in a bad position now!

Oh, what nonsense for someone as level-headed and realistic as himself to be thinking. It was probably the unpleasant atmosphere of the castle that was affecting him.

Finally the princess went, leaving him to himself in the enormous silence. It was a long way to the castle gate and he had to go through the gallery ... if only Nicola would come soon!