"The Blood is the Life Affair" Part 2

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Part 2: To Sleep Perchance to Dream

“Please gentlemen, you will join me for dinner?” The Count picked up a small brass bell from the table giving it a little shake.

One of the servants appeared behind them without a sound.” Te osztály, uram_you rang my lord?”

Napoleon found the man’s silent appearance unnerving; anytime he didn’t hear someone come up behind him made him feel that way and it would take a few minutes for him to settle from it.

This incident would serve as reminder to Solo to remain more aware of his surroundings, even though the place was already giving him the creeps.

“Kolos, holnap készen állsz két lemez vacsorára a vendégek, és látom, hogy a szobók készítet számukra_Kolos, you will ready two more plates for dinner, and prepare rooms for our guests.”

The old man nodded to the Count, creeping out of the room and closing the doors behind him.

The two agents walked behind the Count following him towards the dining room, again eyeing the bizarre statuary that lined the hallway.

“Count, I must say that you have a rather eclectic collection of artwork.” Napoleon commented.

“Ah yes, the carvings I am sure have caught your eye. They were done by local artisans, part of our family tradition was to pay the woodcarvers for the works deemed to be the most unique. The carvers considered it a great honor to have their pieces owned by the family, but alas that tradition is no more.”

“Too many of them, mostly Rom gypsies were killed during the war, and the craftsmanship ceased to be passed down from father to son. Those who survived, fear our home now, as it was considered a house of pain because the many people that died here at the hands of the Nazis. It is said,“the Count laughed, “ the gypsies placed a curse on our family.”

Illya looked at Napoleon with an uncomfortable gaze; it was rare that the Russian would let his emotions show in any way, but it seemed when the the subject of the Nazis was broached, his control sometimes faltered.

He knew little of Illya’s background as he was very closed-mouthed about his past, but given that he was from Kiev, Napoleon knew there had been terrible atrocities committed in the city under the German occupation, so there were surely things Illya had to have seen as a child.

He tried asking questions, but his partner would avoid the subject like the plague, so Napoleon just let it lay. Illya had his back and he could trust him and that was all he really needed to know about the man.

Illya dismissed the comment about the curse, addressing more scientific aspects of the discussion. “Are there any survivors of these experiments?” he asked.

“Only rumors, people fear the unknown and it is said that these Nazi-made vampires roam the forests at night preying on unsuspecting travelers. It is also the explanation given when animals are found dead....cattle sheep, dogs; although there have been recent instances of exsanguination.” Tedescu smiled, “There are however, no such things as vampires.”

There were several other people seated in the dining room, awaiting their arrival.

“Gentlemen may I introduce my family to you?” The Count approached a dark-haired woman with green eyes; she was clothed in a dark burgundy dress accessorized with rather large red cabochon cut stones called  Pigeon Blood rubies set in silver as a pendant and earrings.

“Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin this is my wife Magdala.”

Illya gave a slight nod, while Napoleon being ever flirtatious kissed her hand.

“Charmed Madam,” he smiled at her.

The next to be greeted was a man who looked like a younger version of the Count.

“My brother, Moríc.”

He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt but sported a bright red ascot around his throat.

“And lastly my young sister Terézia.”

She brought an even bigger smile to Napoleon, as he turned on his charm to high. She was a stunning beauty with waist-length black hair, large brown eyes, full pouting lips and and hour-glass figure dressed in a form fitting cherry-red dress that left little to the imagination.

The two U.N.C.L.E. agents were seated at the long dining table with the Count at it’s head.

“Tonight we dine on fish soup, goulash along töltött káposzta and one of our national desserts. I hope you will enjoy our ethnic foods?”

Napoleon was hoping that it wasn’t some sort of red meat, as the preponderance of the color was beginning to make him a bit uncomfortable, especially after the discussion regarding the vampire-like test subject’s cravings.

But he couldn’t resist asking as the entire family was wearing some article of clothing in that color, and in every family portrait the ruby encrusted dagger appeared, continuing, in a way, the theme of red.

Illya caught it out of the corner of his eye; the sister Terézia could not stop staring at Napoleon, though that was not surprising as it was rare that a woman wasn’t attracted to his handsome partner.

“Count, I can’t help but notice that the color red seems to be of some importance to your family....may I ask why?” Solo asked.

“Ah the color is a reminder of our family motto,” he said pointing up towards the family crest mounted above yet another large fireplace mantle.

“A vér az élat.”Illya read, “The blood is the life... an interesting maxim. It is also a quote from the Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula.”

“Really,” Magdala said feigning mild surprise, “ but then again I have never read that dreaded novel. It has really besmirched the good name of Transylvania.”

“The good name?” Illya tried not to laugh, “I hardly think that it was the doing of a mere novel, but it was more so the ghastly acts of one of your Princes, Vlad Tepes on whose life Stoker based his novel.  So which is worse the reality or the fiction? I understand that your family is descended from the Countess Eresébet Báthory of Hungary is it not? There too is another ghastly tale.” Illya couldn’t resist getting his little jabs at these supposed aristocrats.

“That is a little known fact Mr. Kuryakin, one that we prefer to keep out of the light, given our family’s other difficulties,” Magdala said.

“And that is, Illya?” Napoleon asked, now curious as to what his partner had not taken the trouble to mention to him.

Magdala chose to answer Illya. “Elisabeth Báthory called the Blood Countess, was a seventeenth century noblewoman who was my husband’s ancestor. She lived in Castle Trescén in Hungary and was accused of torturing and killing hundreds of young girls... six hundred fifty to be precise. Legend has it that she bathed in the blood of virgins in order to retain her youth and was subsequently compared to that of Prince Vlad Tepes.”

Napoleon raised his eyebrows to that one, not expecting another gruesome story, and much less vampire related.

The Count intervened in the discussion, changing back to the topic of the family motto.  Both agents sensed a touch of anxiety in his voice.

“Yes the line of our family, the blood shall we say is the path to eternity. but not the way the Countess Báthory intended. The maintenance of the bloodline is of the utmost importance to the Teduscu family...our life’s blood is our legacy. So the blood is indeed life.”

“Do any of you have children?” Illya asked.

Both agents made note as they watched wife and brother look sharply at the Count.

“No, it is unfortunate that none of us has been blessed with progeny,” he answered, giving no acknowledgement to his family’s looks.

The dinner was served by the shaking hands of Kolos; first a spicy fish soup called halászle which was one of the few foods that Napoleon had ever seen his partner refuse to eat with a wave of his hand.

Kolos returned immediately with a bowl of vad gombaleves in its place, a wild mushroom soup. This was an acceptable substitute to the Russian and he began to eat it with his usual enthusiasm.

Illya had once made a comment regarding his habit of eating quickly. “Back in Soviet Union if you did not eat fast, then you did not get to eat.” That was one of the few personal comments that Illya had ever made about his mysterious past.

Kolos continued to serve, the main courses being a steaming venison goulash heavily spiced with paprika, along with stuffed cabbage.

They were served a full-bodied red wine called Egri Bikavéri_bulls blood, and somehow Napoleon felt it was in keeping with the bizarre theme of the color red and of course blood. Both he and Illya passed on that libation, choosing to drink only water..

Dessert was gesztenyepüré, a pudding composed of grated chestnuts with sugar and whipped cream, spiced with a bit of rum along with it a white wine called Tokaji.

Illya noticed the sister Terézia was not touching her food, and only drinking her red wine; the fluted glass of the bulls blood held with a graceful hand. Something odd though, on her extended pinky finger was a solid gold fingernail.  It also seemed to him that her libation was of a different color red from what the others were drinking. Illya shrugged it off,  assuming that it was simply a different vintage.

After dinner a glass of Unicum, a Hungarian herbal liqueur was served as an apéritif, it being made from forty different herbs aged in oak casks.

The Count noted Napoleon’s surprise at the strong flavor of the drink and remarked, “It was served to Kaiser Josef II of Austria who said upon tasting it...’Das is ein Unikum!’ and hence the name.

“This is unique,” Napoleon translated. “Gan sicher, is dieser köstlich_most definitely, this is delicious.” he agreed in German.

The Count nodded to his guests. “And with that gentlemen I bid you a good night,” he stood, escorting his wife and sister from the room, leaving his brother with the two agents.

“Moríc could I impose upon you to show me the documents?” Illya asked.

“Of course, perhaps I could give you a tour of my little laboratory gentlemen?”

“I’ll take a pass on that,” Napoleon said, “but Illya is the scientist in the family so I’m sure he’d enjoy it. I’m feeling a bit sleepy after such a delicious meal and think I’ll turn in early if you don’t mind?”

“But of course Mr. Solo, Kolos will show you to your room.”

Illya disappeared with Moríc, Solo headed behind the man Kolos as he shuffled along in front of him. The man moved so slowly that it was like following the walking dead. Another lovely image that Napoleon felt the need to now shake off.

His bedroom was a bit on the ostentatious side with tapestries showing scenes that one would consider quite bawdy.

He spotted his travel case on the bed, and   opened it, pulling out a pair of grey silk pajamas. He stripped down, slipping on the bottoms then using a pitcher and wash basin, he rinsed his face and hands, then put on the silk top.

Solo walked to the window, peering out from behind the heavy burgundy velvet drapes, seeing that it was still pouring.

He climbed beneath the quilt, it’s red fabric matching the canopy and curtains that hung around the bed, then slipped his Walther beneath the pillow before laying his head down with a sigh.

He left the light on feeling just a tad uncomfortable being alone; normally he and his partner were sharing the same bed for economic reasons and though always complaining to each other, wishing for separate accommodations, at this moment he wished Illya was there with him.

Napoleon fell asleep quickly, being more tired than he had thought and he began dreaming quickly.

He was standing nude there in the bedroom in front of the erotic tapestries, and watched as the women in the heavily woven arrases stepped out, coming to life.

They were all over him...touching, kissing and caressing. He found himself in bed with the three women, making love to each of  them.  He felt ecstasy as well pain and confusion.

When he woke in the morning, he was fully clothed in his pajamas. Napoleon rubbed his eyes not feeling quite refreshed from his sleep as he stared at the tapestries again thinking about the intensity of his dream.