Chapter 7
When Joachim next opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the astonished face of an aging priest. The old man's eyes focused on him sleepily at first, but then they widened, and he grasped at the crucifix hanging from his waist, bringing it to his lips and kissing the worn metal reverently.
"Oh, my! My goodness, well! You have awakened, and praise God for his mercy! We have been so worried that He would take you from us." The priest crossed himself and, laying a hand on Joachim's pale forehead, intoned a solemn benediction. The young man's eyelashes fluttered as his eyes roamed around the room. For a moment he was overcome with a feeling of dislocation. He was aware of a dull ache in his neck, as well as another feeling, one he could not identify.
Joachim's eyes felt leaden, and when he opened his mouth to question the priest, he found that he had to swallow several times to dispel the dryness in his throat. "Wha… what?" he croaked weakly, "What has happened?"
The priest was still for a long moment, worrying at his rosary with hands worn and spotted with age as his lips moved in what Joachim assumed was a prayer. When he placed his hand over his mouth and coughed, the holy man started and blinked at him. Joachim gestured frantically for water, and the priest lifted his head gently, supporting him as he drank greedily from the cup placed against his cracked lips. It was with great reluctance that he turned his head aside to signal that the cup was empty, and he was still plagued with thirst as the priest lowered him back onto the pillow.
The old man set the cup on the bedside table and appeared to be thinking. "Ah! Forgive me, but I am old and weary, and it is sometimes difficult to collect my wandering thoughts. My name is Father Adolphus, and it would appear that you were bitten by some form of serpent. Apparently not a poisonous adder though, since you seem to have recovered well. No doubt it was the shock which caused you to become sick… yes, yes. At least, that is what the physician believes. At any rate, you seem well enough now…. Had it been poisonous, you would indeed be dead."
Joachim had lain quiet while the priest spoke, an indescribable look of horror etched on his features. His fingers twitched, and one hand lifted to touch the bandages at his throat before he composed himself and lifted a pale brow. "I am surprised by your knowledge of venomous serpents, father." The priest only smiled, lines crinkling his forehead and face. He chuckled as he patted his charge's hand and struggled to his feet. "I merely heard it from the royal physician. Well, I believe I shall seek out your father, Baron Karl Armster. He is quite frantic with worry, you know."
"I suppose he would indeed be…frantic." Joachim murmured dryly. Father Adolphus had already stepped through the door and appeared not to have heard Joachim's parting remark. Joachim shuddered as he remembered the creature, the vampire which had attacked him in the garden. It all seemed so surreal. Trembling at the memory of its eyes and teeth, he reached for his neck and slowly unwrapped the bandages.
A serpent. How I wish that were the truth! That creature… I have read stories of them, peasant rumors from amongst the Roma tribes of the east, but I never expected that they were anything more than stories! Women who commune with the dead, these earrings, and now a vampire! If this situation did not terrify me, I should love it.
He noticed that the bandages were clean and emitted the faint scent of medicinal herbs. Visibly frightened, Joachim reached with two fingers for the source of the ache. Sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart hammered as he brushed gingerly over the twin punctures. Snatching his hand away, he replaced the linen bandages, fumbling in his haste. He cursed as he retied the knot and bit fiercely at his lower lip to keep from screaming. The same phrase circled around in his head like a litany as his hands fisted in the bedclothes. It wasn't a dream, it was real, it wasn't a dream it was real…
By the time Joachim's father and the physician entered his room, the young man had regained as much of his composure as was possible. He had propped himself up on a mound of pillows, determined to face his father with all the dignity he possessed. His long fingers were interwoven in his lap in an attempt to mask their quaking. The physician stood at Karl's elbow for a moment before the Baron dismissed him with a nod. After the man had taken his leave, quietly closing the door behind him, Karl approached his son's bedside and lowered himself into the chair vacated by the priest.
Never before had Joachim noticed the extent of his father's age. Deep lines scored the Baron's face, his forehead in particular. Weariness shadowed his visage and created bruises beneath his eyes. So strange, if I did not know the depths of cruelty this man was capable of sinking to, I should pity him. Ah, these strange thoughts. I must be ill!
Karl did not initially look at his son, he instead kept his eyes fixed on his hands, all the while clenching and unclenching his thick fingers. Again, Joachim was struck by the differences in their physical appearance. Karl was tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders, a thick neck and strong legs which were refined from his years spent ahorse while overseeing his estates. Joachim was slender, of middling height, with a long neck and a bone structure which was every bit as prominent as a delicate woman's would be. His father's eyes were a chilling blend of pale blue and gray. As a child, Joachim had always felt as though he were caught in a violent storm whenever his father looked upon him with those cold eyes. His own were a pale lavender, and they provided a haunting contrast to his ivory skin and hair long since turned gray from the rigors of a stressful and sickly life.
It would seem that our disappointments in life have affected us equally, Father. Joachim mused, saddened. After a long and particularly uncomfortable silence, Baron Armster cleared his throat and raised his eyes to his son's pensive face. "I know not what to say, Joachim. They told me that you would not make it through the night. Yet here you are, recovered as though the hand of our Lord was upon you through these darkest hours." Karl sighed harshly and riffled his head uneasily, unaccustomed to speaking with his own son as though they were equals. "Neither do I know what I should think! As soon as you are deemed fit for travel, we shall return home. I had arranged your betrothal mere moments before the incident, and… strangely enough, after I had called it off I was informed of your recovery. Perhaps God means to tell me that… this is indeed the end of the Armster line. And that is as it should be." The old man bowed his head in silence, weariness and defeat before he laboriously pushed himself to his feet and turned to leave the room.
Impulsively, Joachim called after him, "Father!" His father's head swung around, and he stared at his son expectantly. Joachim's lips parted, and he found himself speaking in spite of his sense of self preservation. "Anna is weeping for us, even now. Does she not deserve to rest easily?"
Karl Armster's eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened in fear. He advanced upon his son, one finger pointed shakily towards Joachim in accusation. "Don't speak of the dead so lightly, boy! She haunts me! That unholy witch!" His voice rose to a shrill pitch, and his eyes fairly gleamed with madness. Joachim's own were wide, and he sat stunned in the face of this revelation. He feared her! Even now he is afraid!
"She cursed me! Cursed me with you! With a son who cannot even fulfill his responsibilities! A burden and a failure, she has made the both of us thus!" Karl was breathing heavily, and his face was flushed with crimson. He staggered against the wall, one hand groped desperately for something solid to grasp, the other clutched at his chest as he wheezed in pain and fear. He at last turned and fled the room, screaming for the physician to attend to Joachim.
The young man covered his mouth with his hands, stunned. Whatever on earth possessed me to say such a thing to him? And why could I not see this? The drinking, the rages, his sullen hatred, all were a result of his fears! Though he has tormented me cruelly, he has also done thusly to himself! The inadequate son…Did he speak of me or himself all these years? A witch? Was Mother blessed, as Norgard is? Does no one have any answers?
Joachim gritted his teeth and slammed one hand down on the table in frustration, startling when he heard the wood groan in protest. He looked over to see a deep indentation beneath his fist, and he hurriedly shoved the nearby Bible over the damage, sputtering in confusion the entire time. That senile priest must have forgotten it. He flexed his fingers, surprised that there was no pain or bruising. Now what? He nearly leaped from beneath his bedclothes when the physician entered his room with a steaming cup in his hands. The man looked him over dispassionately, leaning in closely to scrutinize Joachim's eyes. The young nobleman flinched and forced himself to remain passive. At last the physician sniffed, satisfied, and administered a tincture of tea, lightly laced with belladonna. "Rest up." the man said, and he moved away, the hem of his black robe swishing softly over the stone floor.
Joachim downed the noxious mess quickly, gagging at the taste. He felt his eyelids grow heavy as he placed the cup on the table, and he shifted about in bed fitfully, seeking a comfortable position. As he at last settled beneath the thick eiderdown cover, he vaguely made out a figure in the shadows by the wardrobe, but his sleep-clouded mind was quick to dismiss it. He fell easily into sleep, his waking mind sloughing off its analytical properties as his dream self swiped absently at the lazily bobbing heads of immense wildflowers. He heard a woman's laughter behind him, and he turned his head, eyes searching eagerly for the strangely familiar sound.
A beautiful woman crowned with white lilies smiled at Joachim joyfully as she extended her arms in welcome. An unspeakable sadness and tenderness tore through him as she drew nearer, the flowers bending their stalks to clear a path for her. The young man knew instinctively that this was his mother. How could he not? He sighed as her soft fingers caressed his expectant and weary face before he was enveloped in her embrace.
"My sweet Joachim." she breathed, "That you have grown to manhood without me pains my soul more than you will ever know." Her luminous blue eyes grew mournful and she clutched him more tightly as though she were wracked by a sudden paroxysm of grief.
"Mother." he murmured through the thick tresses pressed against his cheek. "Tell me if this is death, for if it should be, then it is a thousand fold improved compared to the excuse for life which I have suffered!" He moved to encircle his mother with his own arms, but she leapt nimbly away, and he was left with empty air as his partner.
A look of sadness and reproval crossed her wise face as she slowly shook her head, setting the tiny silver bells hanging from her ears atwinkle. "Life is a gift, my son. A gift I sacrificed to give to you. Though I lay dying, the memory of you lying peacefully in my arms was the most joyful moment that I ever experienced." Anna smiled at her son as she stepped forward and framed his face with her delicate hands. Joachim covered them with his own as his eyes drank in the sight of her face, desperate to commit every minute detail to memory.
"You are to face a grave and rigorous trial, Joachim." her voice was both steady and serious. "I know what the physicians have told you, and it is indeed the truth. Your life was destined to come to an early end, and yet, the natural order of this most fundamental of cycles has been disrupted." A look of horror twisted her features, and she gasped. Joachim realized with dismay that he was fading, slowly returning to the waking world. He gazed tearfully at his mother, not wanting to leave her, desperate to extend their contact.
Stifling a cry, his mother wrung her hands. "Ah, Joachim! The gods have forsaken you! Be wary, but keep your hope! You must find your own salvation now! Alas, if only we were given more time…" her voice trailed off unsteadily and she trembled. "Joachim, know in your heart that I love you, my son." I have your sapphires. Joachim thought drunkenly as his mind fragmented. He tried to reach her, to touch her one last time, but the waking world seized him as a fox grips a hen, and he came violently awake.
As he gasped for air, heart pounding, he felt a wetness on his face and angrily dashed away his tears. There was a burning sensation in his throat, and his mouth felt dry and sticky. Desperate to ease this new pain, he fumbled blindly for the pitcher of wine on his bedside table. In his clumsy haste he sent both the rosary and the Bible tumbling to the floor, as well as his cup. When he heard the sound of ceramic breaking on stone, he cursed angrily and seized the pitcher in both hands, bringing the rim to his lips.
Careful not to waste a single drop, Joachim drained the pitcher hurriedly and set it aside. His breathing was harsh as he licked his lips and tucked his hair behind his ears. His stomach felt leaden and sore, while the painful burn in his throat had manifested itself in his entire body.
"Christ's blood!" he gasped as he struggled frantically from beneath his bedcovers. His sleeping robe was twisted around his legs when he stood, and he stumbled uncaringly into furniture as he hurried towards the single candle burning cheerily in the washroom. Sweeping up the ewer, he downed its contents, and abruptly suffered a painful wrenching in his guts. Joachim clutched at his midsection with an agonized shout as he dropped the ewer, not noticing or caring that it had shattered and its shards were strewn about his feet.
Joachim sank to his knees as he retched, one hand clamped tightly over his mouth. He lurched towards the privy like an intoxicated madman, on knees which were cut and bleeding from the sharp edges of broken crockery. He was surprised that no one had been sent to investigate the noise he was making, but he was secretly glad they had not. Any physician would have given him a brief look and declared him sick with madness. Spending the remainder of his life locked up in a sickroom did not appeal to Joachim, and he kept his peace. No longer able to hold either water or wine, he leaned over the privy and vomited painfully.
It was at this moment that Joachim realized he was no longer alone as his hair was pulled back from his clammy face and secured with a tie. One hand supported him, holding his arm while the other rhythmically rubbed and patted at his back. He retched until he was quite certain that his stomach was empty, and his eyes were ready to burst from their sockets.
A cup of water was pressed against his lips, and he weakly accepted it. "Clean your mouth and spit. Do you hear me? Or do you want to be at this all night?" Accustomed to following reasonable orders, Joachim obeyed, rinsing the foul taste of bile from his tongue. Another cup was proffered, this one filled with a thick, dark liquid, the scent of which caused his parched throat to renew its protest. He drank greedily and was immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of well being as the tonic coated both his throat and aching stomach. "Not too quickly." the voice cautioned, and Joachim forced himself to drink slowly, savoring the taste of the rich beverage.
When he had finished, Joachim was slowly assisted to his feet before his benefactor lifted him up. A protest formed in the back of his throat, but then he heard the crunch of pottery being tread upon, and became aware of the soreness in his knees. Swallowing his pride, he allowed himself to be bundled into bed, where he sat patiently as the other man righted the overturned furniture and cleaned the glass shards from the floor. As he went about his tasks, Joachim caught a few glimpses of him whenever he moved through the patch of moonlight streaming through the window. There was something eerily familiar about the man, and he pondered his new situation as he hugged himself against uneasy chills.
When he was at last satisfied with the present state of Joachim's chambers, the man swept his hands down the front of his tunic and sat beside the bed. Joachim had gone quite still as he watched his movements, and he felt the icy hand of fear upon his heart. The man smiled at him, baring perfect white teeth while chuckling at Joachim's discomfort.
"You are amused by this?" Joachim snapped, feeling very like a small creature which has been cornered by a vicious predator. His lavender eyes were flashing with both fear and hostility as the other man tossed his head back and laughed in approval.
"Oh, quite amused! You surprise me, Joachim. And to think that I feared this predicament would require a messy end." he clapped his hands together smartly, as though pleased with himself, and leaned closer to Joachim, who flinched away in sudden recognition.
"Forgive me. I have not yet introduced myself. I am Count Walter Bernhard, and you," Walter waved one hand elegantly, "are Joachim Armster, I know."
Walter? That strutting peacock is the vampire?
For a moment, Joachim forgot his fears and intently studied Walter, who was in a state of agitation. "Peacock? You insulting creature!" Walter snarled, "Mayhap I should finish what I have begun!"
Joachim clapped both hands over his ears and shut his eyes tightly, "Vampire!" he hissed, "Stay out of my mind, fiend!"
Walter's lip curled in a sneer as he raked Joachim's tense form with his eyes in disgust. "Fiend? This is quite the case of the 'pot calling the kettle black'!" his voice lowered, becoming almost a purr, "What do you think was in the cup I just offered you, hmm? Medicated wine? Pfaugh! Have you any notion of how close to death you ventured, little fool?" Walter rose from his seat in a fluid motion, sending the chair tumbling to the floor as he paced the room angrily, his boot heels colliding with the stones like twin hammers as he moved. "Trust me, your conversion was not a part of my plan. My original intention was to leave you for the worms in that garden, but fate often has other plans for us, hmm? Have you not noticed the changes beginning already, Joachim? How both water and wine sickened you while blood nourished you? My blood, Joachim!"
"Quiet!" Joachim yelled hoarsely, "You liar!" Nervous sweat trickled from his brow, and he swiped it away, keening in desperation when he saw the stain of crimson upon the back of his quaking hand. Oh God! He speaks truth! I am dead! Dead and risen! Joachim's eyes were wide, and his pupils had contracted with his fear. He stuffed his bloodied hand into his mouth and began to rock back and forth, laughing harshly, every exhalation a sobbing denial.
Walter had drawn close and was watching Joachim with frank interest, just as a cat studies the movements of a mouse in the granary. He reached forward to touch the younger man's shoulder, but Joachim pulled away from him and leapt from the bed, landing upon the rug in a crouch. "Don't touch me!" he whispered hoarsely.
To his surprise, the vampire did not. Walter raised both hands placatingly and moved to the opposite side of the room. "Joachim," he began soothingly, "Listen to me. I sha'n't harm you, I mean only to tell you how things will be. I cannot unmake what I have done. If there is a cure for vampirism, none have yet found it. If you will cease those anxious thoughts, you will see that I have taken nothing from you which had any value, and I have given you more than you had any right to hope for. You wished to run without exhaustion? Fine, I have given you this, and more." Walter's fingertips absently traced patterns in the layer of dust coating the mantle above the fireplace. Joachim watched that hand vacantly, refusing to meet Walter's dark eyes.
Joachim's throat worked, and he swallowed visibly before speaking, "But I am forsaken. The gods will have no part of me, and heaven's gates are forever barred in my presence." Walter clucked in admonishment, "What fear has an immortal for the afterlife? Why should a deathless creature fear death?"
"My father will hate me." Joachim countered, knowing his reply was foolish the moment it left his lips. Walter laughed uproariously and slapped his thighs in his mirth, sending dust motes whirling madly in the moonlight. "Oh, you are a stubborn one! You cannot mean to tell me that you have any love for the old badger, or he for you? Ridiculous! You are being difficult Joachim! Oh, and if there is indeed one who loves you truly, that peasant maid will not feel disgust ere she sets her eyes upon your altered self."
Joachim looked up at Walter in alarm, "No, I, please, leave her out of this. These matters lie only betwixt ourselves, Walter." He had risen from his crouch and was wringing his hands nervously, face twisted in turmoil. Walter was an ancient and immeasurably wise creature, and though he could hear the younger man's thoughts, he could not know the depths of Joachim's heart. As soon as he had seen Joachim's reaction when Norgard had been mentioned, he gleefully knew he had found a critical element which could be utilized to his advantage. Outwardly, Walter remained placid as he shook his head and stepped forward to clasp Joachim's shoulder in reassurance. "She shall not know, if that is what is aggravating you. None must know."
Joachim looked at Walter, his expression haggard. "I should hate you," he whispered in a puzzled tone, "but hate never served anyone well in the end. What shall I do?" his voice trailed off brokenly, and his eyes expressed the depth of his bewilderment. In his confusion, Joachim had lost all the confidence he had been slowly building. He had possessed no fear while death had stood somberly at his shoulder, but now his situation had altered completely, and he had no solutions. He well knew what the existence of a vampire entailed: endless days and nights, an unquenchable thirst for the blood of the living, damnation, rejection and hatred from family and friends, as well as all other humans. Joachim shuddered beneath Walter's grasp. I would be hunted down like a wolf which has taken too many cattle from the same herd. Or a mad dog, which turns unpredictably, snapping at the hands it once lapped at in loving devotion.
Thus it was with me, and it will be the same for you." Walter affirmed. Joachim stood silently for a moment, and then he struck Walter across the face, raking at his flesh like a maddened cat, leaving deep gashes on the redhead's cheek. "Why this?" Joachim murmured as he regarded his nails, now hardened into talons. "Why did you not allow me to die? I was supposed to die!"
Walter sighed and released his hold, "I told you, it was not intentional, but when I saw you struggling against this death which you insist that you welcome, I knew at once that it would be a great loss to allow a soul as bright as yours to slip so quickly into the next world." His face had been slowly healing, the flesh regenerating as it knitted the gashes closed, and now he flicked the blood away absently.
Most likely my own blood, which was stolen from me…
"I do not understand you, Walter, and I do not understand this situation. However, I know that this 'gift' you have bestowed upon me will do me no good if I am lying staked and headless in a ditch, or a crossroads for that matter."
Walter smiled indulgently. "Then allow me to right the wrong I have committed. Allow me to aid you, and I will see to it that no harm should ever come to you from the hands of the humans. Since I have brought you into this new life, it is fitting that I assume the responsibilities of a father."
For a moment, Joachim did not speak, he slowly shook his head as the moonlight cast a halo about his pale hair. "What other choice do I have?" he said dryly. Walter extended one arm, and Joachim grasped the proffered hand, formally recognizing the covenant which had already been forged in blood.
Miles away, a young woman tossed feverishly in her sleep, fingers clutching at the sparse straw mattress she lay upon. Tears seeped from beneath her eyelashes, and her flesh was clammy with the sickness brought about by grief. "Joachim…"