Dracula's Guest: A Connoisseur's Collection of Victorian Vampire Stories (24 page)

“Then we
shall
have an adventure—some little variety!” cried Franziska with sparkling eyes.

“How can you talk so foolishly?” said Bertha in alarm.

“Are we not under manly protection? Is not Cousin Franz on our side?” said the other mockingly.

“See, there is a light gleaming among the twigs; and there is another,” cried Bertha. “There must be people close to us.”

“No, no,” cried the guide quickly. “Shut up the door, ladies. Keep close together, gentlemen. It is the eyes of wolves you see sparkling there.” The gentlemen looked towards the thick underwood, in which every now and then little bright spots appeared, such as in summer would have been taken for glowworms; it was just the same greenish yellow light, but less unsteady, and there were always two flames together. The horses began to be restive, they kicked and dragged at the rein; but the mules behaved tolerably well.

“I will fire on the beasts, and teach them to keep their distance,” said Franz, pointing to the spot where the lights were thickest.

“Hold, hold, Sir Baron!” cried Kumpan quickly, and seized the young man’s arm. “You would bring such a host together by the report, that, encouraged by numbers, they would be sure to make the first assault. However, keep your arms in readiness, and if an old she-wolf springs out—for these always lead the attack—take good aim and kill her, for then there must be no further hesitation.” By this time the horses were almost unmanageable, and terror had also infected the mules. Just as Franz was turning towards the litter to say a word to his cousin, an animal, about the size of a large hound, sprang from the thicket and seized the foremost mule.

“Fire, baron! A wolf!” shouted the guide.

The young man fired, and the wolf fell to the ground. A fearful howl rang through the wood.

“Now, forward! Forward without a moment’s delay!” cried Kumpan. “We have not above five minutes’ time. The beasts will tear their wounded comrade to pieces, and, if they are very hungry, partially devour her. We shall, in the meantime, gain a little start, and it is not more than an hour’s ride to the end of the forest. There—do you see—there are the towers of Klatka between the trees—out there where the moon is rising, and from that point the wood becomes less dense.”

The travellers endeavoured to increase their pace to the utmost, but the litter retarded their progress. Bertha was weeping with fear, and even Franziska’s courage had diminished, for she sat very still. Franz endeavoured to reassure them. They had not proceeded many moments when the howling recommenced, and approached nearer and nearer.

“There they are again and fiercer and more numerous than before,” cried the guide in alarm.

The lights were soon visible again, and certainly in greater numbers. The wood had already become less thick, and the snowstorm having ceased, the moonbeams discovered many a dusky form amongst the trees, keeping together like a pack of hounds and advancing nearer and nearer till they were within twenty paces, and on the very path of the travellers. From time to time a fierce howl arose from their centre which was answered by the whole pack, and was at length taken up by single voices in the distance.

The party now found themselves some few hundred yards from the ruined castle of which Kumpan had spoken. It was, or seemed by moonlight to be, of some magnitude. Near the tolerably preserved principal building lay the ruins of a church which must have once been beautiful, placed on a little hillock dotted with single oak-trees and bramble-bushes. Both castle and church were still partially roofed in, and a path led from the castle gate to an old oak-tree, where it joined at right angles the one along which the travellers were advancing.

The old guide seemed in much perplexity.

“We are in great danger, noble sir,” said he. “The wolves will very soon make a general attack. There will then be only one way of escape: leaving the mules to their fate, and taking the young ladies on your horses.”

“That would be all very well, if I had not thought of a better plan,” replied the knight. “Here is the ruined castle; we can surely reach that, and then, blocking up the gates, we must just await the morning.”

“Here? In the ruins of Klatka?—Not for all the wolves in the world!” cried the old man. “Even by daylight no one likes to approach the place, and, now, by night!—The castle, Sir Knight, has a bad name.”

“On account of robbers?” asked Franz.

“No; it is haunted,” replied the other.

“Stuff and nonsense!” said the baron. “Forward to the ruins; there is not a moment to be lost.”

And this was indeed the case. The ferocious beasts were but a few steps behind the travellers. Every now and then they retired, and set up a ferocious howl. The party had just arrived at the old oak before mentioned and were about to turn into the path to the ruins, when the animals, as though perceiving the risk they ran of losing their prey, came so near that a lance could easily have struck them. The knight and Franz faced sharply about, spurring their horses amidst the advancing crowds, when suddenly, from the shadow of the oak stepped forth a man who in a few strides placed himself between the travellers and their pursuers. As far as one could see in the dusky light the stranger was a man of a tall and well-built frame; he wore a sword by his side and a broad-brimmed hat was on his head. If the party were astonished at his sudden appearance, they were still more so at what followed. As soon as the stranger appeared the wolves gave over their pursuit, tumbled over each other, and set up a fearful howl. The stranger now raised his hand, appeared to wave it, and the wild animals crawled back into the thickets like a pack of beaten hounds.

Without casting a glance at the travellers, who were too much overcome by astonishment to speak, the stranger went up the path which led to the castle and soon disappeared beneath the gateway.

“Heaven have mercy on us!” murmured old Kumpan in his beard, as he made the sign of the cross.

“Who was that strange man?” asked the knight with surprise, when he had watched the stranger as long as he was visible, and the party had resumed their way.

The old guide pretended not to understand, and riding up to the mules, busied himself with arranging the harness, which had become disordered in their haste: more than a quarter of an hour elapsed before he rejoined them.

“Did you know the man who met us near the ruins and who freed us from our fourfooted pursuers in such a miraculous way?” asked Franz of the guide.

“Do I know him? No, noble sir; I never saw him before,” replied the guide hesitatingly.

“He looked like a soldier, and was armed,” said the baron. “Is the castle, then, inhabited?”

“Not for the last hundred years,” replied the other. “It was dismantled because the possessor in those days had iniquitous dealings with some Turkish-Selavonian hordes, who had advanced as far as this; or rather”—he corrected himself hastily—“he is
said
to have had such, for he might have been as upright and good a man as ever ate cheese fried in butter.”

“And who is now the possessor of the ruins and of these woods?” inquired the knight.

“Who but yourself, noble sir?” replied Kumpan. “For more than two hours we have been on your estate, and we shall soon reach the end of the wood.”

“We hear and see nothing more of the wolves,” said the baron after a pause. “Even their howling has ceased. The adventure with the stranger still remains to me inexplicable, even if one were to suppose him a huntsman—”

“Yes, yes; that is most likely what he is,” interrupted the guide hastily, whilst he looked uneasily round him. “The brave good man, who came so opportunely to our assistance, must have been a huntsman. Oh, there are many powerful woodsmen in this neighborhood! Heaven be praised!” he continued, taking a deep breath, “there is the end of the wood, and in a short hour we shall be safely housed.”

And so it happened. Before an hour had elapsed the party passed through a well-built village, the principal spot on the estate, towards the venerable castle, the windows of which were brightly illuminated, and at the door stood the steward and other dependents, who, having received their new lord with every expression of respect, conducted the party to the splendidly furnished apartments.

Nearly four weeks passed before the travelling adventures again came on the
tapis.
The knight and Franz found such constant employment in looking over all the particulars of the large estate, and endeavouring to introduce various German improvements, that they were very little at home. At first Franziska was charmed with everything in a neighborhood so entirely new and unknown. It appeared to her so romantic, so very different from her German Father-land, that she took the greatest interest in everything, and often drew comparisons between the countries, which generally ended unfavourably for Germany. Bertha was of exactly the contrary opinion: she laughed at her cousin, and said that her liking for novelty and strange sights must indeed have come to a pass when she preferred hovels in which the smoke went out of the doors and windows instead of the chimney, walls covered with soot, and inhabitants not much cleaner, and of unmannerly habits, to the comfortable dwellings and polite people of Germany. However, Franziska persisted in her notions, and replied that everything in Austria was flat,
ennuyant
, and common; and that a wild peasant here, with his rough coat of skin, had ten times more interest for her than a quiet Austrian in his holiday suit, the mere sight of whom was enough to make one yawn.

As soon as the knight had gotten the first arrangements into some degree of order the party found themselves more together again. Franz continued to show great attention to his cousin, which, however, she received with little gratitude, for she made him the butt of all her fanciful humours, that soon returned when after a longer sojourn she had become more accustomed to her new life. Many excursions into the neighborhood were undertaken but there was little variety in the scenery, and these soon ceased to amuse.

The party were one day assembled in the old-fashioned hall, dinner had just been removed, and they were arranging in which direction they should ride. “I have it,” cried Franziska suddenly, “I wonder we never thought before of going to view by day the spot where we fell in with our night-adventure with wolves and the Mysterious Stranger.”

“You mean a visit to the ruins—what were they called?” said the knight.

“Castle Klatka,” cried Franziska gaily. “Oh, we really must ride there! It will be so charming to go over again by daylight, and in safety, the ground where we had such a dreadful fright.”

“Bring round the horses,” said the knight to a servant; “and tell the steward to come to me immediately.” The latter, an old man, soon after entered the room.

“We intend taking a ride to Klatka,” said the knight: “we had an adventure there on our road—”

“So old Kumpan told me,” interrupted the steward.

“And what do you say about it?” asked the knight.

“I really don’t know what to say,” replied the old man, shaking his head. “I was a youth of twenty when I first came to this castle, and now my hair is grey; half a century has elapsed during that time. Hundreds of times my duty has called me into the neighbourhood of those ruins, but never have I seen the Fiend of Klatka.”

“What do you say? Whom do you call by that name?” inquired Franziska, whose love of adventure and romance was strongly awakened.

“Why, people call by that name the ghost or spirit who is supposed to haunt the ruins,” replied the steward. “They say he only shows himself on moon-light nights—”

“That is quite natural,” interrupted Franz smiling. “Ghosts can never bear the light of day; and if the moon did not shine, how could the ghost be seen, for it is not supposed that any one for a mere freak would visit the ruins by torch-light.”

“There are some credulous people who pretend to have seen this ghost,” continued the steward. “Huntsmen and woodcutters say they have met him by the large oak on the crosspath. That, noble sir, is supposed to be the spot he inclines most to haunt, for the tree was planted in remembrance of the man who fell there.”

“And who was he?” asked Franziska with increasing curiosity.

“The last owner of the castle, which at that time was a sort of robbers’ den, and the headquarters of all depredators in the neighbour-hood,” answered the old man. “They say this man was of superhuman strength, and was feared not only on account of his passionate temper, but of his treaties with the Turkish hordes. Any young woman, too, in the neighbourhood to whom he took a fancy, was carried off to his tower and never heard of more. When the measure of his iniquity was full, the whole neighbourhood rose in a mass, besieged his stronghold, and at length he was slain on the spot where the huge oak-tree now stands.”