CHAPTER1 – Thomas Katz

I was born in a castle to the Count and his wife … and then I was not. I grew up in the castle and the village around it … and then I hadn't. But all this sounds confusing. Perhaps I should begin where my story truly begins, on the day I was threatened, the day Mrs Genova confronted me.

ooOOoo

"Thomas Katz, you're no better than a rutting tomcat," Mrs Genova said.

Mrs Genova of the Waldhof, a peasant. Didn't she know who I was?

"You can't say that about me. I'm Thomas von Katzenelnbogen."

"Don't make me laugh. You're the latest in a long line of rogues and your grandfather was the worst. Seduced and married a widow von Katzenelnbogen and took on the name of her first husband. At least your father was man enough to change it to Katz."

"Whatever the name, madam, my father is still the magistrate of this village. You can do nothing to me."

"Just don't try my patience anymore, Thomas Katz. Don't you dare make another girl cry."

I laughed as I walked away. What did I care about her threats? She couldn't hurt me. She was as powerless as the families of those silly girls. A smile, a friendly word, a cheap gift and they thought my undying love was theirs. Utter idiots. They were all so gullible. They believed any romantic rubbish I told them. Every girl imagined she was the one, the girl who would inspire true love in me. "Oh, your hair is soft like silk," they would coo. Or it would be 'like black velvet'. They claimed they would 'drown in those deep green seas' with which they meant my eyes. Fools, the lot of them.

It riled me though that that harridan had been right about my grandfather. As the youngest son of an unimportant knight he'd had no prospects. Then he'd gotten a young widow in trouble and had been made to marry her. I thought it had been clever of him to take the name of her first husband, a Count von Katzenelnbogen. Who cared we weren't even a twig on that illustrious tree. My uncles would have kept the name, I'm sure, but grandfather's oldest son had spent most of his time in seedy bars, drinking and fighting. In the end he had been killed in a bar brawl. And his second son, a ladies man like his father, had fared no better. He had preferred married woman, thinking them less of a hassle; no irate fathers. Instead an infuriated husband had put an end to his life. That's how my father, the youngest son, became the heir. Not a month after grandfather's death father changed our name to Katz. Not even 'von Katz', just plain 'Katz', though he was still the Count. My older brother, who had inherited the boring, upright character of father, approved the change. My opinion was not asked.

ooOOoo

Mrs Genova's threats didn't leave a lasting impression. If the girls were so willing, why would I resist?

Then one day I met Fiorella. I was walking home from the village when I saw her and I introduced myself.

"Good afternoon. My name is Thomas Katz. I don't believe I've seen you here before. Are you new to the village?"

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes cast down.

"Let me wish you a warm welcome in the name of my father, the Count and magistrate of the village."

I took her hand to kiss it but she quickly withdrew it and in the same, barely audible voice, said, "Thank you."

She still hadn't looked up.

"I won't bite, you know," I told her as I tried to lift her head.

She somehow managed to wriggle out of my grasp and with a whispered, "I have to go," she was off.

I didn't know where she lived and quite frankly I had no intention to find out. There were plenty of other girls in the village. When I saw her again I knew I wanted her. Why? Perhaps because it was summer and she looked like summer incarnate with the sun sparkling off her golden hair.

"Hello again," I said. "You've been hiding."

She didn't answer but just stared at me with her cornflower blue eyes. She had a shy little smile, so innocent and pure. I took a step closer to her and she stepped backward. Somebody had obviously warned her against me. I wanted her.

For the first time I actively wooed a girl. It wasn't too difficult. Girls liked the way I looked and a few smiles and friendly words convinced them I was not as bad as they had been told. With Fiorella it was childishly easy probably because she was so childishly innocent.

Next time I saw her I was walking in the woods. Before she noticed me I had picked some flowers. I went up to her and saw fear clouding over the suns in her eyes. She looked at me as if I was the Big Bad Wolf.

"Some forest flowers for the prettiest flower in the forest," I said bowing deeply and offering her the flowers. She blushed.

I walked next to her, not touching her, not saying anything. When we reached the village she said she was going to visit a friend. I accompanied her to her friend's house, wished her a pleasant day, bowed again and left.

The next day she was walking in the forest again. I met her in exactly the same place as the day before. Just like the day before I walked quietly next to her and when she said she needed to do some shopping at the haberdashery shop I left her again at her destination. The third day we walked closer together. Occasionally our hands accidentally touched and she would step away from me, only to come closer again near enough immediately. I had to leave though. My parents expected me to attend one of their boring dinner parties.

"I have to go now, uh …" I laughed. "I don't even know your name yet."

She looked up at me. In the shadow of the forest her eyes were darker, like cooling pools on a hot day.

"Fiorella, my name is Fiorella," she said and I knew I had won.

"Fiorella. I have to go my little flower. I'm expected at home. Can I meet you again tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"Here in the forest again?"

She nodded again. I wished her a good evening, bowed and left.

Next day I took her hand in mine and she didn't withdraw it. We went walking, hand in hand like children, day after day. We ran across the fields and picked bunches of flowers. Then the harvest festivals began and we danced at the village dances. All that time I never even got a kiss. In the end I got fed up with waiting. There was only so much innocence I could take. I went to the girl who was always ready for me… or anyone else for that matter. I called her Diane, after the virgin goddess just for laughs. I made sure Fiorella saw us together.

"I thought you loved me," she said in a trembling voice.

My answer was deliberately cruel. "I might have done, but not anymore."

She ran away, crying no doubt. Another little fool.

This was how I acted then, what I thought then, exactly as it happened, no embellishments. I was not a likable rogue, I was an arrogant bastard.

ooOOoo

A week after that last meeting with Fiorella, I met Mrs Genova in the wood behind her farm. When she saw me she came storming towards me.

"Finally I've got you, Thomas Katz. I warned you not to hurt any girl's feelings again."

"I've never taken anything they weren't willing to give, Mrs Genova."

That is true. Unlike my grandfather and my uncle, I have never forced myself on a girl. It sounded distasteful to me. Besides there was always one that was willing.

"You broke Fiorella's heart, stringing her along, giving flowers, whispering vows of love in her ear. Then you dumped her in the cruellest fashion. She cries all the time and barely eats."

"What's it to you if one of the village chicks has taken my words too seriously? She'll recover. Quite soon if another man smiles at her."

"Fiorella is my daughter," Mrs Genova said. Her voice sounded different. It felt as if a cold finger was scraping along my spine.

"I … I didn't know that."

"THOMAS KATZ, YOU WILL NEVER BREAK ANOTHER HEART AGAIN!"

The voice was deep, dark, threatening. The wood suddenly became dim and gloomy as if it were a starless night instead of the middle of the day. There was no wind but Mrs Genova's cloak was billowing behind her as if she were standing in the middle of a storm. She looked like an avenging angel, an angel of death. Her eyes had turned completely black with a piercing light in the centre. In her hand she held a stiletto with a dull black blade. Silver light flashed along its edge when she put the point over my heart.

Fear grabbed me, I went down on my knees, begging, "Please, please, I didn't mean to. Please don't kill me."

"I GAVE YOU FAIR WARNING. TOO LATE NOW. I CALLED YOU A RUTTING CAT AND THAT'S WHAT YOU WILL BE. THOMAS KATZ, YOU WILL BE THOMAS, THE CAT. THE MEMORY OF YOU WILL BE ERASED FROM EVERYONE'S MIND. NOBODY WILL MISS YOU."

The point of the thin dagger still touched me. The silver light started to envelop my body. Even though the witch – for she was a witch – even though she didn't move the blade I felt a sharp pain piercing me. Black hairs started to sprout on my arms, my legs, my face, my body. My fine moustache, so loved by the girls, grew to long black whiskers. My hands and feet curled up to paws. Then my whole body contracted. I was hanging suspended in mid-air. My clothes fell from my body and I dropped down on top of them.

"THIS IS MY CURSE ON YOU: YOU WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU WERE ONCE A MAN. YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SPEAK UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. THEN YOU CAN START TO REDEEM YOURSELF. BUT ONLY THROUGH GREAT PAIN CAN YOU BECOME THOMAS KATZ AGAIN."

"Please tell me what I have to do," I wanted to say. But no words came from my mouth only a cat's mewling.

I looked up at the woman, so much taller than me now. The fearful fury had gone. She was just Mrs Genova again and she seemed to have understood what I wanted to say.

"When you have unselfishly helped thousand people this dagger will find its way to you. Look at it and remember it."

She held the stiletto in front of me. I knew I would see it in my dreams for the rest of my life. I knew I would recognise it anywhere. The blade made of a dull black stone-like material, the metal handle with the strange markings on it and the pommel with the stone that looked like a cat's eye.

She continued, "You'll have to find a girl who loves you and is willing to pierce your heart with it. Believe me; it's going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt. Then and only then will the curse be broken. Go and take this chance I'm giving you."

ooOOoo

I didn't know what to do. I tried to walk upright but kept falling back on all fours. Where could I go to? Through the forest? No, too dangerous. To the village? Nobody would recognise me. Home? Yes, home, somebody there would know me. l would run to my room, let them know I had been cursed. I would denounce the witch. I ran home, got in through the kitchen door that was open.

The cook and the kitchen staff gasped then screamed, "There's a cat in the kitchen. Get it out, get it out."

They chased me all through the kitchen, but I escaped and ran up the servant's stairs to my room. I hoped that door too would be open so I could hide from the kitchen staff who were still pursuing me. I was in luck! I ran through into my room and skidded to a halt. My room was full of flowers. A girl I had never seen before was sitting at my desk. No, not my desk. This was too delicate with its turned legs and swirling carvings. How could this be? Where were my things? I'd only been here an hour ago … less than that.

I heard the clamour of my pursuers coming up the stairs. The girl too had heard the unusual noise and turned around. She saw me and called me.

"Puss, puss, come puss."

"Puss puss, I'm not puss puss. This is my room, get out," I shouted but of course all she heard was "Meow, meow, meow."

Then the girl came towards me. I didn't want to be picked up, so I ran out of the room, in the middle of a group of people who were wondering what the unusual din meant. I was chased, kicks were aimed at me, things were thrown at me.

People yelled, "Stop him, catch him."

The girl was shouting, "Don't hurt him."

I was hissing and spitting. Luckily I reached the main staircase and ran downstairs again, dodging servants, footmen and maids. I ran along the corridor, took a sliding turn into another one, zigzagged around some people. An open door ahead of me; I ran and found myself in the portrait gallery. Then I saw what the witch had meant. The large painting of our family had changed. I had been on it, a little boy standing proudly next to his father, but not anymore. I was no longer in it as the youngest child. Instead my mother was holding a little baby girl. I had truly been erased from existence.

I stood there frozen, unable to take my eyes off the picture, as if I expected it to change back to what it used to be. The door creaked. Somebody had come in. I didn't look.

"Come, puss, come. I won't hurt you. Come to me."

It was the pleading voice of the young girl who'd been in my room.

"It may be diseased. Don't touch it, Thomassina."

That was my mother's voice. As I turned towards her I suddenly realised what she had called the girl. Thomassina! Instead of me there was a younger girl and they had called her Thomassina.

The door opened again and two footmen came into the gallery. Behind me I heard the door at the other end of the room open. I was trapped. Then I saw that one of the windows wasn't closed properly, it should have been but it wasn't. I took my only chance at escape and jumped on the windowsill and pushed against the window with my front paws. It was open! I jumped out and ran towards the village.

Here was further proof that I had never existed. Two girls who'd had a child of me and had been married off to two willing village boys, no longer had little dark-haired girls. Instead they had little boys, the spitting image of their dependable husbands.

The witch was there too and beckoned me. She walked towards the graveyard and our family's tomb. I followed her and looked at the thing she pointed at. Underneath the names of my grandparents and their two sons was written "Thomas Katz, beloved son of George Katz and his wife Elena" with the date of my birth and a second date, merely five days later.

I had been eradicated from history just as Mrs Genova had said. All my memories were of events that had now never happened. My disappearance would not be noticed. The girls who had fancied me would not miss me. Nobody would remember me except perhaps my mother who might wonder, very occasionally, what the baby that had died would have looked like.

How could I live like this? What could I do? I couldn't think anymore. Fear and panic took over and I did what any animal would do. I ran.

ooOOoo


Author's Note: Katzenelnbogen (cat's elbows) is the name of a castle and a village in Germany. The counts of Katzenelnbogen had a second castle Neukatzenelnbogen (new cat's elbows) near the Loreley rock on the river Rhine. This is now known as Burg Katz.