Blood and Gold (36 page)

Again, I saw the ikons. I saw the dim corridors of the monastery, and then in the falling snow, I saw the two on their horses, Amadeo and his father. Amadeo held the ikon, and the priest ran beside him, telling him that he must place the ikon in a tree, that the Tatars would find it and count it as a miracle, and Amadeo, how innocent he looked to be such a bold rider, to be chosen to ride with his father for Prince Michael’s mission, as the snow came down heavily, as his hair was whipped by the wind.

And so it was your undoing. Turn your back on it now. You have seen it for what it was. Look to the fabulous painting on the wall, Amadeo. Look to the riches which I have given you. Look to the glory and virtue which lie in beauty as varied and magnificent as what you see here.

I let loose of him. He gazed at the painting. I pressed his lips to my throat again.

“Drink,” I said. But he needed no counsel. He held fast to me. He knew the blood, as I knew him.

How many times did we do it, the passing of blood from one to the other? I know not. I know only that never having done it completely since that long ago night in the Druid grove, I trusted to nothing, and made of him the strongest fledgling that I could.

And as he drank from me, I gave him my lessons, my secrets. I told him of the gifts that might one night come to him. I told him of my long ago love for Pandora. I told him of Zenobia, of Avicus, of Mael. I told him all but the final secret. That I kept from him.

Oh, thank the gods that I kept it. I kept it close in my heart!

Well before morning it was finished. His skin was wondrously pale, and his dark eyes fiercely bright. I ran my fingers through his auburn hair. Once again, he smiled at me so knowingly, with such a quiet air of triumph.

“It’s complete now, Master,” he said, as if he were speaking to a child.

And together we walked back to the bedchamber where he put on his handsome velvets, and we went out to hunt.

I taught him how to find his victims, to use the Mind Gift to make certain that they were Evil Doers, and I also remained with him through the few hours of his mortal Death.

His powers were very simply enormous. It would not be long before he could use the Cloud Gift; and I could not find a test to outdo his strength. He could not only read the minds of mortals, he could make spells as well.

His mind, quite naturally, was closed to me, though this was still something I did not completely accept. Of course it had happened with Pandora, yet I hoped that it would not happen with Amadeo and only reluctantly explained it to him.

Now I must read his facial expressions, his gestures, the depth of his secretive and faintly cruel brown eyes.

Never had he been more beautiful, of course.

And having done all this, I took him with me to my very grave, as one says, to the gilded room of the two stone sarcophagi which awaited us, and I showed him how he must sleep by day.

It didn’t frighten him. Indeed, nothing frightened him.

“What of your dreams now, Amadeo?” I asked him as I held him in my arms. “What of your priests and the distant glass city?”

“Master, I’ve reached paradise,” he answered. “What has Venice in all her beauty been to me but a prelude for the Blood?”

As I had done a thousand times, I gave him the Blood Kiss and he received it and then drew back smiling.

“How different it is now,” he said.

“Sweet or bitter?” I asked.

“Oh, sweet, very sweet, for you’ve fulfilled my heart’s desires. You don’t pull me heartlessly after you by a bloody thread.”

I crushed him in my warm embrace.

“Amadeo, my love,” I whispered, and it seemed the long centuries I had endured had been but preparation for this. Old images came to me, bits and pieces of dreams. Nothing was substantial but Amadeo. And Amadeo was here.

And so we went to our separate sleep, and as I closed my eyes I feared only one thing in the whole world—that this bliss should not last.

22

T
he next few months passed in freedom and pleasure such as I could have never imagined.

Amadeo was truly my companion and also my pupil, and I forced him with gentle discipline to learn all that I thought he should know. This included his lessons in law and government, in history and philosophy, and also his lessons with me in being a blood drinker, to which he gave himself with a cheerful willingness that surpassed my dreams.

I had thought that, being young, he might want to feed on the innocent, but when I instructed him as to how guilt would soon destroy his soul if he did this, I found that he listened; and he took my instructions in how to feed upon evil without allowing it to darken his own soul.

He was also my eager pupil in the lessons on how to be in mortal company, and he soon felt strong enough to have some conversation with the mortal boys. Indeed, he was soon expert in deceiving them, just as I was, and though they sensed that something had changed with Amadeo they did not know what, and they could not know, and they dared not risk the peace of our wondrous house with even their slightest doubts.

Even Riccardo, the eldest of my apprentices, suspected nothing really, except that his Master was somehow a powerful magician and the magic had saved Amadeo’s life.

But now we had to deal with our beloved Bianca, whom we had not seen since the night of the terrible illness, and I knew that this would be Amadeo’s most arduous trial.

What was she to make of Amadeo’s swift recovery from his terrible battle with Lord Harlech, and what did she think when she laid eyes upon Amadeo with his luminous skin and shimmering hair? What was he to think when he looked into her eyes?

It was no secret to me that he adored her, indeed, that he had loved her as I had loved her. And so we must go to her. Indeed, we had put it off for too long.

Abruptly one evening, we went to visit her, having fed well on this night so that we might feel and appear quite warm.

As soon as we came into her room, I saw immediately the strain in Amadeo, that he could not tell her of what had happened to him, and only in that moment did I realize how difficult this secrecy was for him, and how in spite of all his strength, he was still quite young and even weak.

Indeed, Amadeo’s frame of mind was far greater cause for alarm than that of Bianca, who seemed only happy to see Amadeo restored.

They were like a brother and sister together, and I thought of course of the vow I had extracted from him when I made him, and I wished I could take him aside and remind him of it now. But we were in her drawing room and there were many other visitors, with all the usual music and talk going on.

“Come into my bedroom,” she said to both of us. Her lovely oval face was beaming. “I am so very glad to see you. Why didn’t you come before now? Of course everyone in Venice knew that Amadeo was recovered, and that Lord Harlech had gone back to England, but you should have written to me if you couldn’t come.”

I showered her with my apologies. It was my thoughtlessness. And indeed I should have written a letter. What had blinded me on such a score was my love for Amadeo. I had cared for nothing else.

“Oh, I forgive you, Marius,” she declared. “I would forgive you anything, and look at Amadeo. It’s as if he were never sick at all.”

Gratefully I accepted her embrace, but I could see how Amadeo suffered when she kissed him, when she clasped his hand. He could not endure the gulf which separated them, but he must endure it, and so I did not move to leave.

“How goes it with you, my beautiful nurse,” I said to her, “you who kept Amadeo by a thread until I could come to him. You and your kinsmen? Are you a happy lot?”

She gave a soft gentle laugh. “Oh, yes, my kinsmen, some of them have met with the most unfortunate end. Indeed, it is my understanding that the Grand Council of Venice believes they were murdered by those from whom they exacted heavy payments. My kinsmen should have never come to Venice with their evil designs. But I am blameless as everyone knows. Members of the Grand Council of Venice have told me as much. And you would not think it but I am now richer on account of all this.”

Of course I saw it in a moment. Those who had owed money to her miserable kinsmen had, after their murders, given her costly gifts. She was richer than she had ever been.

“I am a happier woman,” she said softly, looking at me. “Indeed, I am someone altogether different, for I know a freedom now that was inconceivable before.”

Hungrily her eyes moved over me and over Amadeo. I felt a desire emanating from her. I felt it as she looked at both of us, that she wanted a new familiarity, and then she came to me, and putting her arms around me, she kissed me.

Quickly, I held her back and away from me, but this only impelled her to embrace Amadeo, and she kissed him on his cheeks and on his mouth.

She gestured towards the bed.

“All of Venice wonders about my magician and his apprentice,” she said warmly. “And they come to me, only to me.”

With my eyes, I let her know my love for her, that I would trespass now if she didn’t strictly forbid it, and moving past her, I seated myself on her bed.

Never had I taken such a liberty with her, but I knew her thoughts. We dazzled her. She idolized us.

And how lovely she was in her luminous silk and jewels.

She came and took her place beside me, nestled close, and unafraid of whatever she saw when she looked into my eyes.

Amadeo was astonished and soon sat beside her on her right. Though he’d fed well, I could sense his blood hunger, and that he fought bravely to keep it down.

“Let me kiss you, my exquisite one,” I said. And I did so, counting upon the dim light and my sweet words to bedazzle her, and then of course she saw what she wanted to see—not some dreadful thing quite beyond her comprehension, but a mysterious man who had rendered her an invaluable service and left her wealthy and free.

“You will be safe always, Bianca,” I said to her. “As long as I am here.” Twice and once more I kissed her. “Help me open my house again, Bianca, with even more splendid food and entertainments. Help me prepare a greater feast perhaps than Venice has ever seen. We’ll have wondrous theatricals and dancing. Help me fill my many rooms.”

“Yes, Marius, I shall do it,” she answered drowsily, her head leaning against me. “I shall be so happy.”

“I shall give you all the money you require for it. And Vincenzo will carry out your instructions. Only tell me when you would have this take place.”

I looked into her eyes as I spoke and then I kissed her, and though I did not dare to give her the smallest taste of my blood, I breathed my cold breath into her, and I pierced her mind with my desire.

Meantime, with my right hand I reached beneath her skirts and found her sweet naked secrets and easily moved them with my fingers, which inflamed her with immediate and undisguised desire.

Amadeo was confused.

“Kiss her,” I whispered. “Kiss her again.”

He obeyed me, and soon had her ravished with his kisses.

And as my fingers tightened and caressed her, as his kisses grew more fervent, she grew bloodred with her cresting passion and fell softly against Amadeo’s arm.

I withdrew, kissing her forehead as though she were chaste again.

“Rest now,” I said, “and remember you are safe from those evil kinsmen, and that I am in your debt forever because you kept Amadeo alive until I could come.”

“Did I, Marius?” she asked me. “Wasn’t it his strange dreams?” She turned to Amadeo. “Again and again you spoke of wondrous places, of those who told you that you must return to us.”

“Those were but memories caught in a web with fear,” said Amadeo softly. “For long before I was born again in Venice, I knew a harsh and pitiless life. It was you who brought me back from some thick margin of consciousness which lies just this side of death.”

She gazed at him, wondering.

How he was suffering that he could not tell her what he was.

But having accepted these words from him, she allowed us to, in the manner of common attendants, help her with her disheveled dress and hair.

“We’ll leave you now,” I said, “and of the feast we’ll make our plans at once. Allow me to send Vincenzo to you.”

“Yes, and on that night I promise you,” she said, “your house will be more splendid than even the Doge’s palace, you will see.”

“My princess,” I said as I kissed her.

Back to her guests she went, and off we hurried down the stairs.

In the gondola, Amadeo began his entreaties.

“Marius, I can’t bear it, this separation from her, that we can’t tell her.”

“Amadeo, say nothing more to me of this!” I cautioned.

When we reached the bedchamber and locked the door, he gave way to terrible tears.

“Master, I could tell her nothing of what had happened to me! And to Bianca I would always tell all. Oh, not the secrets of you and me or the Blood Kisses, no, but of other things. How often I sat with her, and talked with her. Master, I went to her so often by day and you didn’t know it. She was my friend. Master, this is unendurable. Master, she was my sister.” He sobbed like a small boy.

“I cautioned you on this, did I not?” I said furiously. “And now you weep like a child?”

In a rage, I slapped him.

And in shock he fell back away from me, but his tears flowed all the more.

“Master, why can we not make her one of us! Why can we not share the Blood with her?”

I took him roughly by the shoulders. He didn’t fear my hands. He didn’t care.

“Amadeo, listen to me. We cannot give way to this desire. I have lived a thousand years and more without making a blood drinker, and now you, within months of your own transformation, would make the first mortal for whom you feel inordinate love?”

He was crying bitterly. He tried to free himself from me, but I would not allow it.

“I wanted so to tell her of the things I see with these new eyes!” he whispered. The blood tears spilled down his boyish cheeks. “I wanted so to tell her how all the world is changed.”

“Amadeo, know the value of what you possess and the price of what you give. Two years I prepared you for the Blood, and even so the giving of it was too rapid, spurred on by Lord Harlech’s poisoned blade. Now you would visit this power upon Bianca? Why? Because you would have her know what has befallen you?”

I released him. I let him fall on his knees beside the bed, spilling his tears as he cried.

I sat at the desk.

“How long do you think I’ve wandered this Earth?” I asked. “Do you know how many times it had crossed my mind in carelessness and wanton temper to make another blood drinker? But I did not do it, Amadeo. Not until my eyes fell upon you. I tell you, Bianca is not to be what we are.”

“She’ll grow old and die!” he whispered. His shoulders moved with his sobs. “Are we to see it? Are we to watch this happen? And what will she think of us as the years pass?”

“Amadeo, stop with this. You cannot make all of them what we are. You cannot make one after another without conscience or imagination. You cannot! For everyone there must be preparation, learning, discipline. For everyone there must be care.”

Finally he dried his tears. He stood up and he turned to face me. There seemed an awful calm in him, an unhappy and grim calm.

And then there came a solemn question from his lips.

“Why did you choose me, Master?” he asked.

I was frightened at this question, and I think he saw it before I could hide it. And I marveled that I had been so unprepared to answer such a thing.

I felt no tenderness for him suddenly, for he seemed so strong as he stood there, so very certain of himself and of the question which he had just put to me.

“Did you not ask me for the Blood, Amadeo?” I responded, my voice cool. I was trembling. How deeply I loved him, and how I didn’t want him to know.

“Oh, yes, sir,” he responded in a small, calm voice, “indeed I did ask you but that was after many a taste of your power, was it not?” He paused, then continued. “Why did you choose me for those kisses? Why did you choose me for the final gift?”

“I loved you,” I said without further ado.

He shook his head.

“I think there’s more to it,” he answered.

“Then be my teacher,” I answered.

He came closer to me, and looked down at me as I remained seated at my desk.

“There’s a bitter cold in me,” he said, “a cold which comes from a distant land. And nothing ever really makes it warm. Even the Blood did not make it warm. You knew of this cold. You tried a thousand times to melt it, and transform it to something more brilliant, but you never succeeded. And then on the night that I came near to death—no, was, in fact, dying—you counted upon that cold to give me the stamina for the Blood.”

I nodded. I looked away, but he put his hand on my shoulder.

“Look at me, please, sir,” he said. “Isn’t it so?” His face was serene.

“Yes,” I said, “it’s so.”

“Why do you shrink from me as I ask this question?” he pressed.

“Amadeo,” I said, speaking firmly, “is this a curse, this Blood?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

“Think on it before you answer. Is it a curse!” I declared.

“No,” he said again.

“Then cease your questions. Don’t seek to anger me or embitter me. Let me teach you what I have to teach.”

He had lost this little battle and he walked away from me, looking once more like the child, though his full seventeen years as a mortal had rendered him more than that.

He climbed upon the bed, and curled his legs beneath him, sitting there motionless in the alcove of red taffeta and red light.

“Take me back to my home, Master,” he said. “Take me back to Russia where I was born. You can take me there, I know you can. You have that power. You can find the place.”

“Why, Amadeo?”

“I must see it to forget it. I must know for certain that it was . . . what it was.”

I thought on this for a long time before I answered.

“Very well. You will tell me all you remember and I will take you where you want to go. And into the hands of your human family you can place whatever wealth you wish.”