Chapter 14: An Understanding
"Listen and attend with the ear of your heart."
— Benedict of Nursia
A small filament of steam spiraled up from the full teacup. Lisa lay the heavy kettle on an iron trivet and settled on the heavy chair before the table. She had been mentally composing the note she wished to send Țepeș, attempting to wrangle her words and thoughts from her emotions and digressing into memories. She would often find her gaze drawn to the door, expecting to find Domnica emerging from her latest errand.
When the door finally creaked open, Lisa's greeting died on her lips. Instead of the good-natured young woman, it was the solemn figure of Țepeș that stood imposingly at the threshold, gazing down at her with an inscrutable expression.
The rush of emotion caused Lisa to remain momentarily speechless. He wasted no time in addressing her.
"I did not mean to startle you. I was led to believe you were unwell," he stated in his reserved manner. With a curt nod, he grasped the door handle and retreated into the hall.
Lisa clenched her fists. He had taken his leave and would be gone. As if we were nothing more but indifferent acquaintances standing on ceremony.
"I am much less startled by your appearance that you seem to be irked by mine!" she called out, surrendering to her disappointment and hurt.
Lisa's words gave him pause. In her indignation, an inadvertent confession: she had misunderstood his absence as a rejection. A surge of tenderness struck him and he found himself irresistibly drawn, wanting to soothe all her worries away.
Still, her words contained the sting of an accusation he was not guilty of.
He would not be perceived as superficial or capricious.
It would not do.
He walked once more into the room.
"Explain yourself," he demanded.
She crossed her arms tightly at his scrutiny.
"I am merely wondering why you have not come by to speak to me even once since I've awakened."
"I explained why I wouldn't come to see you in my first letter," he countered coolly.
"And you also explained your purpose in bringing me here: to heal me. For your intervention I am very grateful. But I have to wonder why you have resorted to issuing prognoses based simply on hearsay."
"You would have me play many roles: teacher, physician, host… I was merely being cautious and considerate. I did examine you—I've shared my findings and treatment with you. But I can hardly be scolded for keeping a distance. Am I entirely at fault for presuming you may be my unwilling guest? After all, it was you who fled without as much as a farewell, much less an explanation." He contemplated her sternly. "You assume I have judged and rejected you, yet it is I who underwent such punishment, given your hasty escape."
"An explanation? And what explanation would you have me give?" she argued, growing incensed, "Do you recall what transpired when we were together last and how you chose to reveal certain truths to me?"
"Truths you insisted on learning, despite my repeated warnings of the risks involved in pursuing such knowledge!"
Her blue eyes narrowed.
"I could not have begun suspecting the nature of what you revealed to me—nor did I expect what you did to me!"
He stepped forward, straining at his own impatience.
"Nor did I lie or mislead you. You were the one eager to undertake risks for the sake of knowledge! You accepted the danger, even when I insisted you did not understand what it comprised!" His expression had grown hard and cold despite the dry exasperation in his tone. "Besides, I doubt you would have believed me had I merely told you what I am."
"You did not even try!"
"I explained what my intent was when I proposed our…exchange: I was concerned for your safety." He paused, contemplating the bruise over her forehead, now a mottled yellow and fading purple. "Apparently, rightly so!"
She bridled at his temper.
"Allow me to repeat that I am most grateful for your aid. I sincerely regret that you were inconvenienced by having to offer it!"
"Do not be coy!" He swooped down, roughly grasping the edges of the table as he leaned forward, coming face to face with her. "I told you I would come to you if summoned—no conditions whatsoever. I admit my motivation to reveal my nature to you was selfish: once you voiced your intent to leave this castle, I sought to establish a bond between us." He peered into those eyes that were so limpid, so clear, that face he had recalled and evoked again and again through all his yearning. The impetus, however, came from a much deeper, intimate sentiment, he thought, dropping his gaze to her lips.
"How do you think I could have ever predicted or foreseen such a—"
"That is precisely why you wished to know, wasn't it? Did I not warn you of the lure of knowledge? Of such unbridled curiosity? That the cost and toll of such matters should be clearly known before attempting to attain greater wisdom?"
"How callous of you! I did not seek to know simply because, as you imply, I was curious! I wished to know and let you lead because I trusted you!" She bent forward as well, defiant and righteous, her eyes unflinchingly holding his.
"Then tell me how I betrayed that trust. I held up my end of our bargain."
Her brow furrowed and she blinked nervously.
"You asked too much of me at once. I did not—still do not!— know what to think! You have completely altered my understanding of the world, of reality. You have left me with more questions than—"
"Ah, but I never left you!" he interrupted, incensed. " You left me," he accused, in a harsh tone. "I was prepared for your scrutiny, to answer your questions!"
Lisa's brow furrowed.
Your anger does not frighten me. It tells me more than your words do. And what it says, cuts me to the quick.
"I had made up my mind to return here. To meet with you. So we could talk," she admitted in a quieter tone. "Before my capture, that is."
His expression immediately softened at her admission.
"I decided that leaving the way I did…It did not make anything better. Because…We need to speak! It is the reasonable, logical thing to do. I have all these questions I wish to ask you, Vlad."
He stood up straight again, towering over her.
"Yes," he stated in a more conciliatory tone. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.
"Here is what I propose: you are still convalescing and the hour grows late. You have suffered a concussion—you understand that you are not to exert yourself. I will not address more than one question tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at him in that insolent way he found so exasperatingly dear.
"Oh, but surely you must know I have more than one question," she teased.
"You may ask all the questions you wish. I will return night after night until you have exhausted your questions and are satisfied with the answers," he vowed.
She rubbed her chin gently.
"So…One question?" In her heart, relief and delight. He said he would return: he would no longer stay away.
And if she had learned anything, amidst all those bewildering discoveries, it was that Țepeș was true to his word.
He prepared himself for the onslaught.
He knew how formidable his pupil was, how eager and tenacious she could be. He would have to be careful so that his answers would not entice her to explore what should remained buried, unspoken, hidden. He waited as she collected her thoughts, her eyes downcast as she sought to ask her first question.
What are you? He expected. What hellish fiend? He was distracted from his mounting impatience when his gaze roved over her beloved face, her slender neck…
"Very well: I have it."
He almost startled, tearing his eyes from the soft, rosy skin of one of her exposed shoulders in the gauzy nightdress.
"My question is: can you give Domnica her freedom now?" she asked softly.
Along with surprise, he met her words with affection.
One question.
He had anticipated revealing his secrets to her…but instead of asking about something for herself, for her own knowledge and satisfaction, she sought to help another.
Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong about my long-held beliefs about human nature…and in the process, transform me.
This is the true alchemy, he mused.
"That is hardly a question," he countered, touched. "That is a request."
"In the form of a question," she insisted. "Oh, do not be tiresome. You said it yourself: I am convalescing and should not overexert myself. So: can you let her go?"
"Why should I?"
"Because being here is not her will."
"Has she complained of her circumstances?" His expression grew stern once more.
"No—but even if she had, she would have been within her right!" Lisa added. "She has been nothing but helpful and cheerful."
"Then, my answer is no," he answered simply.
"Please," she entreated him, placing her hands on the table. "It is not right."
"Domnica is my vassal. She understands her obligations toward her lord."
"I don't understand why this is necessary—"
"It is simple, Lisa: I cannot be present to oversee your needs in the daytime."
She fell silent, the echos of the old Psalm rushing to her memory.
… eius non timebis a timore nocturno…Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night.
She contemplated him, his large frame occupying the chair, his red eyes meeting hers. In folktales, monsters always emerged to prey after dark, in the cover of night. Mircea had referred to him as a "creature" and a "fiend". He was considered inhuman and dangerous. Evil incarnate.
And yet…It appeared that the entire world, except for herself, feared "the Dragon."
I was just arguing with him about semantics: teasing him about the difference between a question and a request. I have often disobeyed his orders, spurned his concerns, defied his warnings, and dismissed his advice.
"I can fend for myself now," she persisted.
"I have no doubt you believe that…and perhaps you can. But… I am not willing to take anymore chances," his tone was authoritative, decisive.
At her expression of displeasure, he exhaled heavily.
"No more chances. Not when it comes to you. One of us has to be concerned for your safety and well being."
She averted her eyes, overwhelmed by how deeply his words affected her.
"I do appreciate all you have done for me, all your care."
He offered her his customary polite nod, an acknowledgement of her words.
"Let Domnica go. Please."
"Once you are well."
"That is not right, Vlad."
He rested his chin over his fist.
"It is not up for discussion."
"But you must release her. Do not keep her here for my sake."
"You needn't worry: Domnica knows she will be rewarded for her trouble," he stated, emphasizing the last word for her benefit while shooting her a pointed glance. "But right now," he pushed his chair away from the table and stood, the folds of his black cape tumbling softly to the ground, "I will leave you so you may retire for the night."
Lisa made to pull away from the table as well, but he indicated her cup of tea.
"Drink: it will help you sleep better."
She wrapped her hands around the warm cup.
"Where do you…retire for the night?"
At his silence, she risked raising her eyes at him.
"Do you sleep during the day?"
His lips curled into a small grin.
"Ah—those are questions. And I only agreed to one question tonight," he told her in that sanguine, silken tone of his that implied he had no intention of compromising over anything.
"An agreement implies negotiations and there were none! You agreed to nothing! You are the one who defined the terms of our exchange tonight!" She crossed her arms, but there was a familiar lightheartedness to her tone. "It simply is not fair."
"It will have to do. For now." He walked to the great wooden door, the grin still lingering on his lips.
"Vlad," she called out.
He turned to find her taking a tentative sip before sitting the cup back on the table. "There is much that I wish to understand. Much that I still do not know…About the world…About you. I am still unsettled…and do not know that I will like or easily accept all you have to tell me." She focused her gaze on the clear amber tea in her cup. "But come what may…I sincerely hope that from now on we are always able to… speak sincerely and reasonably to each other about any differences," she completed.
That he should inspire such a conciliatory sentiment despite everything…
"It is a promise," he replied.
"Thank you." She smiled at him and it stirred that deep longing inside him, a desire so absolute, consuming, yet, so universal…So…
Human.
How strange to have those voids in his soul filled in once more.
"Let me leave you with one more answer," he began, taking in her luminous eyes, warm and intelligent, peering back at him. "To a question you did not ask: I am ancient, Lisa. I have been on this earth many lifetimes and over," he stated softly, seeing her expression shift to one of keen interest. "There is nothing about human nature that eludes me." He let his gaze brush tenderly over the blemished face, the choppy hair that fell unevenly over her shoulders. "I have existed long enough that I can discern between beauty and youth." Her expression grew guarded, as if she were bracing herself for an argument. "True beauty transcends temporal constraints and is far more complex, far deeper than one's exterior, bruises and all."
"When I said what I said earlier, about my appearance…I didn't mean to imply—" she quickly retorted, flustered, "I was not fishing for a compliment: I only hoped you had not been avoiding me because my bruises and wounds are so…" She fell silent, earnestly surprised by the magnitude of her own need. "I appreciate the compliment," she finally offered, trying to compose herself. "But I will evoke the wise words of Albertus Magnus who wrote, 'everything that actually exists participates in the beautiful and the good.'"
He lowered his head, in thought.
Yes, you are an alchemist: transforming into gold all that is base and ordinary…
… And what has long been considered cursed and forsaken.
"I do not agree with Magnus; my experience has taught me otherwise. But I do know this, without any doubt: you are beautiful, Lisa. To me, infinitely so," he concluded gently, standing and taking his leave of her for the night.
A/N:
One more week for season 2! So exciting!
few notes this time, as it was a shorter chapter.
Albertus Magnus- "(1193-1280) Albertus Magnus, also known as Albert the Great, was a scholar, philosopher, bishop, and doctor of the Church, as well as the teacher of St. Thomas Aquinas. Canonized in 1931, he was declared the patron saint of the natural sciences, a fitting role considering his tremendous influence in the field." (From: Molecular Expressions. URL at AO3). Interesting detail: he also discovered arsenic.
. . .eius non timebis a timore nocturno- Latin text of Psalm 91, a Psalm about faith and divine favor/protection against all kinds of fearsome dangers and perils.