Blood and Gold (14 page)

“Both of them contain the seed from which we all spring!” he answered. “They cannot be destroyed on that account for if they were, we would die with them. Ah, don’t you see?” He looked at Mael. “I know now the cause of the Terrible Fire. Someone seeking to destroy us burnt them or placed them in the sun.”

I was utterly defeated. He had revealed one of the most precious secrets. Would he know the other? I sat in sullen silence.

He rose from the chair and began to walk about the room, incensed by his memories.

“How long did they remain in the fire? Or was it only one day’s passage in the desert sand?” He turned to me. “They were white as marble when I saw them. “This is the Divine Mother,’ they said to me. My lips touched her foot. The priest pressed his heel to the back of my neck. When the Terrible Fire came I had been so long in the oak I remembered nothing. I had deliberately slain my memory. I had slain all sense of time. I lived for the monthly blood sacrifice and the yearly Sanhaim. I starved and dreamed as I’d been commanded to do. My life was in rising at Sanhaim to judge the wicked, to look into the hearts of those who were accused and pronounce on their guilt or innocence.

“But now I remember. I remember the sight of them—the Mother and the Father—for I saw both of them before they pressed my lips to her feet. How cold she was. How awful it was. And I was unwilling. I was so filled with anger and fear.
And it was a brave man’s fear.
”

I winced at his last words. I knew what he meant. What must a brave general feel when he knows the battle has gone against him and nothing remains but death?

Mael looked up at Avicus with a face full of sorrow and sympathy.

But Avicus was not finished. On he went with his walking, seeing nothing before him but memory, his thick black hair falling forward as he dipped his head under the weight of memories he bore.

His black eyes were lustrous in the light of the many lamps. But his expression was his finest feature.

“Was it the sun, or was it a Terrible Fire?” he asked. “Did someone try to burn them? Did someone believe such a thing could be done? Oh, it’s so simple. I should have remembered. But memory is desperate to leave us. Memory knows that we cannot endure its company. Memory would reduce us to fools. Ah, listen to old mortals when they have nothing but memories of childhood. How they go on mistaking those around them for persons long dead, and no one listens. How often I have eavesdropped on them in their misery. How often I have wondered at their long uninterrupted conversations with ghosts in empty rooms.”

Still I said nothing.

But he looked at me at last, and asked me:

“You saw them, the King and Queen. You know where they are?”

I waited a long moment before answering. I spoke simply when I answered.

“I saw them, yes. And you must trust me that they are safe. And that you don’t want to know where they are.” I studied both of them. “If you were to know, then perhaps some night other blood drinkers could take you prisoner and wring the truth from you, and they might strive to claim the King and Queen.”

Mael studied me for a long while before he responded. “We fight others who attempt to take Rome from us. You know we’ve done this. We force them to leave.”

“I know you do,” I said. “But the Christian vampires continue to come, and they come in numbers, and those numbers grow larger all the time. They are devoted to their Devil, their Serpent, their Satan. They will come again. There will be more and more.”

“They mean nothing to us,” said Mael disgustedly. “Why would they want this Holy Pair?”

For a moment I said nothing. Then the truth broke from me hatefully, as though I couldn’t protect them from it, nor protect myself.

“All right,” I said. “Since you know so much, both of you, let me explain the following: many blood drinkers want the Mother and the Father. There are those who come from the Far East who know of them.
They want the Primal Blood. They believe in its strength. It’s stronger than any other blood.
But the Mother and Father can move to defend themselves. Yet still thieves will always be in search of them, ready to destroy whoever keeps them in hiding. And such thieves have in the past come to me.”

Neither of them spoke. I went on.

“You do not want, either of you,” I said, “to know anything further of the Mother and the Father. You do not want rogues to come upon you and try to overpower you for your knowledge. You do not want secrets which can be ripped from your heart.”

I glared at Mael as I said these last words. Then I spoke again.

“To know of the Mother and the Father is a curse.”

A silence fell, but I could see that Mael would not allow for it to be very long. A light came into his face, and he said to me in a trembling voice:

“Have you drunk this Primal Blood?” Slowly he became incensed. “You have drunk this blood, haven’t you?”

“Quiet, Mael,” said Avicus. But it was no use.

“You have drunk it,” said Mael in fury. “And you know where the Mother and Father are concealed.”

He rose from the chair and rushed at me, and suddenly clamped his hands on my shoulders.

Now, I am by nature not given to physical combat, but in a rage I pushed him off me with such force that he was thrown across the floor and back against the wall.

“How dare you?” I asked fiercely. I struggled to keep my voice low so as not to alarm the mortals in the banquet room. “I ought to kill you. What peace of mind it would give me to know you were dead. I could cut you into pieces that no sorcerer could reassemble. Damn you.”

I was trembling with this uncharacteristic and humiliating rage.

He gazed at me, his mind unchanged, his will only slightly chastened and then he said with extraordinary fervor:

“You have the Mother and the Father. You have drunk the Mother’s blood. I see it in you. You cannot hide it from me. How will you ever hide it from anyone else?”

I rose from my chair.

“Then you must die,” I said, “isn’t that so? For you know, and you must never tell anyone else.” I made to advance on him.

But Avicus who had been staring at all this in shock and horror rose quickly and came between us. As for Mael, he had drawn his dagger. And he seemed quite ready for the brawl.

“No, Marius, please,” said Avicus, “we must make peace with each other, we cannot keep up this struggle. Don’t fight with Mael. What could be the outcome, but two wounded creatures hating each other even more than now?”

Mael was on his feet. He held his dagger ready. He looked clumsy. I don’t think he knew weapons. As for his supernatural powers, I didn’t think either of them understood fully what they might do. All this, of course, was defensive calculation. I didn’t want this battle any more than Avicus wanted it, yet I looked to Avicus now and said coldly:

“I can kill him. Stay out of the way.”

“But that is the point,” said Avicus, “I cannot do this, and so you will be fighting the two of us, and such a fight you can’t win.”

I stared at him for a long moment during which words failed me completely. I looked to Mael with his uplifted dagger. And then in a moment of utter despair I went to my desk and sat down and rested my head on my elbows.

I thought of the night in the far city of Antioch when Pandora and I had slaughtered that bunch of Christian vampires who had come so foolishly into our house talking about Moses in the desert lifting the Serpent, and secrets from Egypt, and all such seemingly marvelous things. I thought of all that blood and the burning afterwards.

And I thought also how these two creatures, though we didn’t speak or see each other, had been my only companions all these years in Rome. I thought of everything perhaps that mattered. My mind sought to organize itself round Mael and Avicus, and I looked up from one to the other, and then out to the garden again.

“I’m ready to fight you,” said Mael with his characteristic impatience.

“And what will you achieve? You think you can cut out the secret of the Mother and the Father from my heart?”

Avicus came to my desk. He sat down in the nearest chair before me and looked to me as if he were my client or friend.

“Marius, they are close to Rome. I know it. I have known it for a long time. Many a night you have gone out into the hills to visit some strange and lonely place, and with the Mind Gift I have followed you, wondering what could take you to such a distant spot. I believe now that you go to visit the Mother and the Father. I believe you took them out of Egypt. You can trust me with your secret. You can also trust me with your silence if you wish.”

“No,” said Mael, coming forward immediately. “Speak, or I’ll destroy you, Marius, and Avicus and I will go to the very spot and see the Mother and Father for ourselves.”

“Never,” said Avicus, becoming for the first time angry. He shook his head. “Not without Marius. You’re being foolish,” he said to Mael.

“They can defend themselves,” I said coldly. “I’ve warned you. I’ve witnessed it. They may allow you to drink the Divine Blood. They may refuse you. If they refuse, you will be destroyed.” I paused for emphasis then went on.

“Once a strong god from the East came into my house in Antioch,” I said. “He forced his way into the presence of the Mother and the Father. He sought to drink from the Mother. And when he made to sink his fangs into her neck, she crushed his head, and sent the lamps of the room to burn his flailing body till there was nothing left. I don’t lie to you about these things.” I gave a great sigh. I was tired of my own anger. “Having told you that, I’ll take you there if you wish.”

“But you have drunk her blood,” said Mael.

“You are so very rash,” I answered. “Don’t you see what I’m saying? She may destroy you. I cannot say what she will do. And then there is the question of the King. What is his will? I don’t know. I’ll take you there, as I’ve said.”

I could see that Mael wanted to go. Nothing would stop him from this, and as for Avicus, he was very fearful and very ashamed of his own fear.

“I must go,” said Mael. “I was her priest once. I served her god in the oak. I have no choice but to go.” His eyes were brilliant with his excitement. “I must see her,” he said. “I cannot take your warnings. I must be taken to this place.”

I nodded. I gestured for them to wait. I went to the doors of the banquet room and opened them. My guests were happy. So be it. A couple of them cheered my sudden presence, but quickly forgot me. The drowsy slave poured the fragrant wine.

I turned and went back to Avicus and Mael.

We went out into the night, the three of us, and as we made for the shrine, I learnt immediately that neither Mael nor Avicus moved at the speed which their strength allowed. I told them both to walk faster, especially when there were no mortals to watch, and very soon I had them silently exhilarated that they were more in possession of their true gifts.

When we came to the granite door of the shrine, I showed them how it was quite impossible for a team of mortals to open it and then I lighted the torch and took them down the stone steps.

“Now, this is Holy Ground,” I remarked before opening the bronze doors. “You do not speak irreverently or idly and you don’t speak of them as if they cannot hear.”

The two were enthralled.

I opened the door, lighted the torch within, and then let them enter and stand before the dais. I held the torch high.

All was perfect as I had assumed it would be. The Queen sat with her hands on her thighs as she always did. Enkil took the same posture. Their faces, framed so beautifully in their black plaited hair, were beautifully empty of thought or woe.

Who could have known from the sight of them that life pumped inside them?

“Mother and Father,” I said distinctly, “I have brought two visitors who have begged to see you. They are Mael and Avicus. They’ve come in reverence and respect.”

Mael went down on his knees. He did it as naturally as a Christian. He held out his arms. He began to pray in the language of the Druid priesthood. He told the Queen she was most beautiful. He told tales of the old gods of the oak. And then he begged her for her blood.

Avicus winced, and I suppose, so did I.

But I was sure something quickened in Akasha. Then again perhaps not.

All of us waited in uneasy stillness.

Mael rose and walked towards the dais.

“My Queen,” I said calmly, “Mael asks with all respect and all humility, if he may drink from the primal fount.”

He stepped up, bent over the Queen lovingly and daringly and bent to drink from her throat.

It seemed nothing would happen. She would allow it. Her glassy eyes stared forward as if it were of no import. Her hands remained on her thighs.

But all of sudden, with monstrous speed, the heavy boned Enkil turned sideways, as if he were a wooden machine worked by wheels and cogs, and he reached out with his right hand.

I sprang forward, threw my arms around Mael and drew him backwards just under the descending arm and all the way to the wall. I flung him into the corner.

“Stay there!” I whispered.

I stood up. Enkil remained turned, his eyes empty, as if he could not find the object of his rage, his hand still poised in the air. How many times, when I’d dressed them or cleaned them, had I seen them in the same attitude of sluggish inattention?

Swallowing my terror, I mounted the dais. I spoke to Enkil coaxingly.

“My King, please, it’s finished,” I said. I put my trembling hands on his arm, and I gently returned him to his proper place. His face was hideously blank. Then I put my hands on his shoulders and I turned him until he was staring forward as before. Gently I attended to his heavy golden necklace. I arranged his fingers carefully. I smoothed his heavy kilt.

As for the Queen she remained undisturbed. It was as if none of it had ever taken place, or so I thought, until I saw the droplets of blood on the shoulder of her linen gown. I should have to change it when I could.

But this was evidence that she had allowed the kiss, and he had forbidden it. Well, this was most interesting, for I knew now that when I had last drunk from her, it was Enkil who had thrown me back on the chapel floor.