Nachtstürm Castle (17 page)

“We travelled here regularly, perhaps once every two years, although we never stayed for very long.
 
Eventually, my mother stopped coming altogether; my brother likewise.
 
By the time I was twelve, having proved myself to father in the keeping of accounts, my father sent me on alone to oversee the glory that is Nachtstürm.
 
My family disliked the mountainsides, the chasms and the people.
 
The wayside shrines unnerved them almost as much as the weather, I think!
 
But the beauty of this land gripped me immediately.
 

“Can you imagine this, Frau Tilney?
 
How a visit to a place so foreign to oneself felt more like coming home?
 
My grandfather had turned wholly away from his heritage, yet I completely embraced mine. I grew friendly with the people of Nachtväl and the surrounding towns and making neighbours of those who visited. Indeed, I spent as much of my time without Nachtstürm’s boundaries as within! This place,” the friar said, gesturing to the tiny room beside the chapel, “I especially loved. And by the time I came of fifteen years, I begged the priest to take me as his disciple, and to become a priest in time myself.

“Father Ignazio, you see his stone there, was pleased with my vocation and immediately gave me his blessing. But as a follower of the mendicant friar cannot be also a baron, my decision left Nachtstürm without a master. Very carefully, Father Ignazio and I crafted a letter and sent it northward to my father. No letter returned, but my father himself – irate at his youngest son, as well as at the friar, the people of the Väl, even Old Edric – with whom I had as few dealings as possible and because of whom I spent much of my time with the friar!

“My own brother, also named William, came with my father – and a strange meeting was that for two men of blood become so utterly strangers! I learned that day my father arrived that my own mother had passed away, almost on the day that my letter declaring my intent to take Holy Orders arrived. The more fool I! For upon learning this, I promised to ask Father Ignazio to offer the next mass for her soul – for I had not yet been ordained. My father flew into a rage and threw me out of the castle forever. What words he had with afterwards my brother, I know not. Except that my father left shortly thereafter for England, never to return, and my brother took up his place here as heir of two titles.”

The good friar stopped to sigh and pour more tea.

“I must now introduce two characters you well know: one by acquaintance, the other by reputation. I am speaking of Edric and Cecelia, known as Fortuna.

“Edric served the castle. How that demon came into our line’s employ, or what his true origins may be, I have never learned. As a man, I must admit to Edric’s claim on our race; as a priest, I am sure his soul – or what is left of it – is already consigned to the deepest Hell. Even when I was young, I could see an ancient malice seemed to burn within his eyes, and I was glad of my eremitical life.
 
My father placed in Edric all his trust – as I fear many of the unfortunate Barons of Brandenburg have done – commanding him to watch over my brother, William, and to ensure that he did not fall as I did into ‘
popish ways
’.
 

“A few times my brother crept out to visit me, although he refused to meet me within the church, and so we conversed in silence by the tomb of our ancestors. Frequently, he entreated me to give up my habit and to take my ‘rightful’ place. I remained stubborn when he would so entreat, and our arguments became repetitive.

“ ‘To a family with no honour!’ I cried once, when William defended our father’s actions. ‘What tree can stand that has uprooted itself, and then cut off its branches?’

“ ‘Yet for a tree to bear fruit,’ William retorted, ‘it must be pruned.’

“We did not speak again until the year I was ordained, two years since my father had come and gone. The ceremony took place in Vienna, for although my father had disavowed me, yet my connexions afforded me some privileges within the Church, and a prince of the same himself laid hands upon me. The celebration of my first mass, however, took place in my beloved Väl, and was largely attended both by the souls I now shepherd, but also by some few townsfolk of Gesette – for my own mentor had been from that town. The usual traders came, and many brought their families with them, for the celebration lasted a whole week.
 
And many wanted the blessing of a newly ordained, to claim the right to the first baptism or communion or anointment from my hands.
 
So it was during this week that the Välich first set eyes upon Cecelia Durande.

“I need not describe her to you, Frau Tilney. You need only glance in a mirror to see her reflection. Nor need I describe how her beauty affected any man who beheld her – yes, even I, although my love for my own celestial bride proved much stronger. Yet it was my brother who fell completely under her spell. As heir to Brandenburg, William could not entirely avoid the celebration without causing greater distrust and turmoil within the heart of his citizens and so half–way into the week he descended to pay his grudging respects. As he distributed largess, his eyes fell upon Cecelia and I knew in that moment that my long–time prayer – for the reconciliation of brother and brother – might yet be answered. In a whisper, he asked me her name. I responded, adding her parentage, which might have made a less smitten man come to his senses. But my brother only said, ‘And she is not spoken for?’

“ ‘No,’ I replied, hiding a grin.

“ ‘I must meet her,’ he said, giving the last of the bread away. ‘How shall I do it?’

“Such was my joy and my pride that I devised a fantastic plan which, I fear, brought more pain and heartache than a direct course might have. But I was young and enthusiastic, still heady with the oil of anointing. Instructing my brother to remain where he was, I went up to Cecelia and asked her – among many pleasantries – if she had yet been shriven. She had not, although she had hoped to before she left for Gesette in three days’ time. I invited her to my hermitage that afternoon, saying with a smile that I feared the last day of celebration should keep me day and night in the confessional with travellers unwilling to brave the mountains with sins still upon their souls. She smiled and promised to meet me. Although I wonder if she did not sense my plan, for I later came to know her as a wise and gentle woman, and perhaps she did not look at me that day, but past me at my bewitched brother.

“That accomplished, I turned and spoke with William, informing him of my intent. ‘If it would not burden your conscience overmuch,’ I said carefully, remembering our own father’s reaction to a similar offer, ‘perhaps you might come within my chapel and be likewise shriven.’

“If my brother’s heart was outraged, he did not shew it, but agreed to come at the time I specified. So fully satisfied with myself, I enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon among my flock, until the hour that I had predetermined. The climb to the chapel took little time, for my heart was buoyant as were my legs, and I reached the church before either William or Cecelia. Gladly I lit the candle and offered a quick prayer of thanks. My brother entered first, as I had hoped, and with much prompting I heard his confession, although he had not as yet been confirmed. Then I called him into my booth and I went outside to wait for Cecelia.

“She came quietly – so quietly, I might have thought her a ghost, except that her hand splashed a little of the holy water from its basin. I greeted her and waited for her to enter the confessional before myself. Once her door closed, I opened my own and gestured for William to wait outside until I signalled to him. For although I was young and foolish, and for all that I thought to use the confessional for purposes other than the sacrament, yet still I had respect for its seal.

“Thus much I will tell you of what transpired in this place so many years ago: once I had absolved her, I laid on Cecelia this further penance: that she should wait within the confessional and speak to the man I would bring to her. Thus saying, I opened the door and gestured for my brother to come inside. I myself waited without the building, staring down at the village below with no more thought of my former castle or the demon living within its walls. Half an hour I allowed them, and then I brought out my brother and sent him on his way.
 
Afterwards Cecelia turned to me and said, ‘There is more here than you will tell me.’

“I nodded. Her face was very grave, I remember, and yet there was a faint blush to her cheeks that told me my brother’s suit had not been entirely unwelcome.

“ ‘Then do not tell me what more there is,’ she said.
 
‘I do not wish to know. What time shall I come to you tomorrow? The same?’ Something of surprise must have crossed my face, for she smiled and touched her hand to my arm, saying, ‘I have long thought that my life should not be like my mother’s or my sister’s or any of my kin. Father, I have dreamt that the Blessed Virgin offered me two drinks: one of milk and one of wine. The milk smelt like honey and I knew if I took it I should live a long and happy life. But the wine was thin and red and bitter and promised me martyrdom. And yet, when I looked at my reflection within the chalice of wine, I saw a greater goodness than the milk could offer.’

“ ‘Do you wish to be a martyr, my child?’ I asked. The last phrase stuck on my tongue, for I was unused to saying it; and the thought of the lovely girl before me somehow mangled for a faith I had just abused ground into my conscience.

“But she answered only with another smile, as was her custom, and a kiss upon my cheek. ‘I shall call you
Fra
Andreas, although you are a father now, for I recognised the voice behind the screen although you would not let me see your brother.’

“With that she left. What joy overcame me! Enough that I ignored the promptings of my heart to tread more warily the treacherous course I had laid. That evening I hiked up to the castle and demanded to be let in. The poor boy at the door knew not what to do, for he recognised his old master and came to mass regularly, yet he also feared what Edric might say. At last I made my way in; promising the boy that no harm would become him for demonstrating courtesy. But no sooner had I entered the great hall than Edric stopped me, saying, ‘You are not welcome in this place any more, priest.’

“ ‘I am come to see my brother,’ I explained, silently chastising myself for not recommending this quest to the angels. ‘He is expecting me.’

“ ‘The Baron is not at home,’ Edric said.

“ ‘Then I shall wait for his return,’ I replied. ‘Tell him I shall meet him in the Baroness’ Suite.’ Then, before that demon could say more, I left.

“Subterfuge is not the place of the holy man, and yet, as I have said often this night and will say more again this evening, I was a foolish, passionate youth, with the added pride of my lineage. For as long as I had lived at Nachtstürm those years before I took up the robe, I had learned all the secrets of my home.
 
So I knew the stairways, corridors and rooms hidden within the walls – as no doubt you know some now as well, Frau Tilney. More tea? One moment.”

Fra Andreas busied himself with the kettle as he continued. Our heroine herself dared not interrupt him, for he told a story well, and so we shall not hesitate to listen again to what he had to say.

“I crept about the back of the castle to a certain hidden door I knew that led up to a spiral stairway that led to many rooms – some secret, some not. I went up this, and thus round about until I came to the master suite, where my brother doubtless slept. I urged open the door, for it was heavy stone, and was gratified to find my brother within, hunched over a much abused desk. Paper lay everywhere, although no sand had been used on any of the discarded sheets. William looked up as I entered and his face went very white, for I must have seemed to walk through walls instead of opening them. Quickly, I assured him that I was no haunt and told him to come to me the following afternoon, in the same way.

“ ‘You must have a golden tongue to woo and win so quickly,’ I said to him.

“ ‘No more than you,’ he answered. ‘To think I should enter your chapel of my own accord! You take advantage of a man in love.’

“I could not argue the point, and so I inquired what had inspired my brother to litter his room.

“ ‘The same that you take advantage of. I attempt to write poetry, Andrew. But although of necessity I learned German, and although my beloved has proven she is fluent in that language, yet I would write to her in her native tongue.’

“ ‘Then dictate to me your poem,’ I said, taking the quill from him and applying the knife to its dulled point. ‘And I shall translate as you speak.’