CHAPTER SIX - Along The Castle Road

“All yesterday we travel, ever getting closer to the mountains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert land. There are great, frowning precipices and much falling water, and Nature seemed to have held sometime her carnival.”

Memorandum by Abraham Van Helsing

Dracula,

By Bram Stoker

29 July, 1914 - Camp in the Carpathians

"Karoly, have you seen the, ...this Sárkány a tűz at the castle?", his voice breaking over the unfamiliar word. Jonathan blushed, but Karoly, saddling the horse in front of him, appeared not to notice.
When finished, he turned to Jonathan, "Yes," he sighed, "I have seen it twice. More of the Count's,..um, damage, I am sure."
"Damage?"
"Yes, the Count, ...how do you say, ..um,   we find troubles that he has left behind. Then it is up to us, the Szekelys, his people, to fix."
Karoly's explanation surprised him; enough, in fact, to put his own fears aside for the moment. He took the saddled horse from Karoly and tied it up alongside the other horses at the entrance to the stable.
He joined Karoly as the next horse was being prepared, "The Szekelys are his people?"
Karoly smiled. "Jonas, the Count was a great man, a hero to our ancestors, before he changed his path and followed the ancient practices of the Scholomance. But, he is still family, and it is our duty, even after these many centuries, to take care of family, and any unfortunate troubles they may have left behind them."
Jonathan, silent, and still frustrated, helped Karoly ready the next horse. He did not consider this Sárkány a tűz just another trouble, and he certainly was not sure if he wanted to have any part of it.  No one had asked him if he wanted to go to the castle, but here he was, in the stable, readying the horses for the journey. A flash of resentment overwhelmed him.
He jumped at a touch to his shoulder. Turning around he looked into the eyes of Sister Agatha, abashed that it might be easy to read his thoughts. She motioned for him to follow her outside, away from the cavernous stable and into the early morning sunshine. She crossed the trail into a rustic gazebo.
The gazebo’s roof  was camouflaged by  the living branches of the overhanging trees, providing a cool shaded area from the mid-morning sun. She sat down on a bench, patting the space next to her. He joined her, sitting down, his arms resting on his legs. Sister Agatha rubbed his back gently, which made him think of his mother.
"We haven't had a chance to relax since we came down from the mountain. Yesterday was taken up with making plans and now, here we are, some of us ready to investigate the castle. You have only been in this country three days and I cannot imagine how you, or Quincey, could possibly understand what is happening."
Jonathan snorted assent. He spotted Quincey helping Karoly pack up the horses, seemingly quite at home in the stable. He did not appear troubled by the thought of going to the castle.
"Quincey is in search of his roots. He lost both his father and his uncle at an early age. He is hoping this expedition will aid him in that search," Sister Agatha continued. "For the Szekelys, this is a part of their heritage. There is an old saying that you cannot tell where a Szekely ends and where the land begins, they are so intertwined. There have been many conquerors and princes who have claimed this land as their own, but it is always the Szekelys that guard it for them. And, as Transylvania has always been a borderland, it has seen more than it's share of brutal conflicts."
Jonathan straightened up, a question forming in his mind.
"So, you ask, what does this have to do with me?" Sister Agatha smiled, anticipating his thought. He smiled in return.
"It takes a certain kind of people to withstand the shifting sands of warfare and politics. Their rock," she emphasized, "is their land. Soldiers for pay have no allegiance, but a free man, has a fierce loyalty to whatever he is defending. So the Szekelys pay taxes to whatever conqueror or prince is in residence, but never obligate themselves by asking for anything in return except for the freedom to rule themselves locally. In fact, they further ingratiate themselves to the crown by being the border guards for the land. This was not an easy life they chose. Hardships and invasions have taken their toll, but they value their independence above all else, and have been willing to pay the steep price for it."
"So, you, as a free man, which every Szekely honors and respects, are the only one that can decide whether to go on this journey or not. Your companions will just as happily wave to you as they leave, giving it not another thought, as they will happily include you in on their expedition."
Jonathan was dumbfounded. He realized he had been worrying so much about what everyone would think if he did not go, that he never thought about whether he wanted to go or not.
Sister Agatha stood up, smiling at him, "As for me, my path does not lead to the castle. For now, my path leads me back to Bistritz.”
She held up a packet of letters. “And letters to post.” Jonathan blushed, thinking of his letter to Camilla.
“Bad news has already reached us at camp. War may have been declared on Serbia, and, even now, our troops may be mobilizing near the Russian border; which is hard to comprehend. Why Russia? I do not understand, and, we have so many Serbians in our confraternity; and in our army; are we at war with our own brethren? I need to speak to the Convention and ascertain the truth.” She shook her head.
Just then they saw the Professor and Sabina coming down the trail; both burdened down with gear.
Jonathan jumped up and followed Sister Agatha towards them. He reached out to take some of the professor's load and Sister Agatha took one of the satchels Sabina was carrying.
"Dear boy, thank you so much." The Professor handed him a bulky ruck sack. The aroma of bread permeated it. He looked questioningly at the Professor. "Food for the trip." Laughing, he added, "And I must say, I cannot wait for our first stop on the trail."
They made their way to the bench, and unloaded their gear.
The Professor continued, "I am so glad to have found you. I did not want to leave without seeing you." Startled, Jonathan looked at him, confused. Belatedly, he realized  he had already made up his mind to go on the expedition to the castle.
The Professor looked up at him in surprise.
"Oh." He looked intently at Jonathan. " Well, I see you intend to join us.”
Jonathan nodded, watching the professor's expression change slowly from surprise, then to wariness, and then, it seemed to him, to resignation. Sister Agatha interrupted their exchange.
"And Sabina?"
They turned towards her. Sabina shook her head, "I do not want Lupa trying to follow me, she is still a puppy and needs more training. I have been to the castle many times with the Professor,and, if I stay here, I can help Professor Arminius with his research."
Boisterous shouting, coming from the direction of the stables, caught their attention. Karol, already astride his horse, was waving to them. "It is late morning, time to leave if we want to make camp before dark."
They all made their way to the horses, delivering their satchels to the men busily packing the animals.
Karoly, holding the reins of Jonathan's horse, maneuvered his mount over to him, flashing a large grin as he extended the reins.
Jonathan looked up at Karoly as he grabbed the reins. Well, he thought, at least Karoly had assumed he was going. As if in answer to his thought, Karoly threw back his head and laughed.
Jonathan smiled back. At this moment he could not think of anything more satisfying than to be striking out on an adventure, yes, an adventure, with such people as these.

The distance to the castle was not that far; as the crow flies; but this trek up the steep mountain ridge, and then back down again, with many switchbacks in between, was tiring to horse and man. The noon day sun was not helping their dispositions either. When Karoly called a halt, about halfway down the ridge, the men eagerly abandoned their rides, and dropped to the ground. He had picked a widening of their trail for the stop, with enough of an overhang to provide shade for all. No one spoke as they busied themselves tending to the horses.
Jonathan noticed some apples and hoped there would be some left over for him, but, as others opened the baskets of food, he realized he need not have worried.
The Professor came over and sat on a boulder next to him. “My boy, you surprised me this morning,” He chuckled, “but, I should have been better prepared, you have often surprised me in the past.”
Jonathan smiled; he thought of some of his past adventures that would not have ended as well if the Professor had not come to the rescue; even if it was only to mollify some of the scoldings he received from his parents.
The Professor looked out at the sun-dappled forest in front of them. “If I might ask, what caused you to come with us to the castle? I can understand Quincey’s reasons, even though I do not think he will find his answers on this journey; and, maybe it is enough to know he tried; but what is your story, my young master?”
Jonathan leaned back against a boulder. “I guess I wanted to see the place we heard so much about from you, and from mother and father.”
The Professor nodded his head, obviously expecting him to continue.
That left him a little flustered. He had not thought much beyond that point.
 “The stories were wonderful and exciting, but later on, I had questions.” He leaned forward, now getting caught up in the feelings of frustration he experienced over the years. “My mother was injured by this Count, and her friend Lucy died because of this Count; but when I asked how or why, and who was this dangerous person, I was told he did not matter anymore as he was no longer alive.”
The Professor motioned to speak, but Jonathan cut him short with a wave of his hand. “Oh, I know all the stories about how heroic my mother and father were, and how your little band succeeded in ending the evil reign of the Count. But, when I wanted to know how and why, I was always disappointed with the answers.” He looked at the Professor, “So, after awhile, I stopped asking.”
“My dear boy. I am so sorry.” Jonathan heard the consternation in the Professor’s words. “You must understand, how can we, as adults, know when to confide to our young charges, the horrors that we experienced? When can we know what is the right time? And what if there was never a need for you to know? Why should we burden you and your sisters with our dangerous deeds? Did you really need to know how often we put ourselves in mortal danger?”
“I can only say I felt miserable wondering why I, and possibly Lucy, were not included in those late night discussions all of you used to have after you returned from your trips to Transylvania. It was so secretive, and, scary.” He knew these words hurt, but he could not stop himself.
“When it was first mentioned that Sister Agatha had asked in her letter about the chances of my coming to Transylvania, I saw fear in my parents’ eyes.” He heard his resentment creeping into his voice and tried to correct it, “You know, sometimes being aware of a secret; can be  worse than knowing the real story.”
The Professor sighed. “What follies we humans create for ourselves when we avoid truths. I will no longer put truth under scrutiny before sharing, there lies the danger.”
Jonathan flushed. He felt young and foolish next to the Professor, but a part of him knew he was right to be here; knew he needed to see this mysterious past, so long shrouded in bed-time stories, for himself.
They ate in silence until Karoly called them to ready their mounts. The Professor leaned forward to get to his feet, and without a word, went to find his horse.
The sun was already in the western sky in front of them as they continued down off the ridge and onto a more level ground where a roadway cut across their trail. They took a sharp left onto the roadway, heading south. The murmur of conversations began to trail off, being replaced by watchful eyes scanning the horizon and the forest around them.
Jonathan’s thoughts wandered to his interview with Bacsi after coming down from the mountain. The conversation was largely about the apparition, with Bacsi seemingly asking the same questions over and over again. At first he found it difficult to get beyond the fear his retelling conjured up in him, but, with repetition, came familiarity. He could now review the event with more perspective, even if unable to find some reasonable explanation. After all, he reassured himself, many of the Szekelys had witnessed the same phenomenon, and they still continue to go about their daily business, with, apparently, no change to their lives.
They soon abandoned the road, striking out west into the heart of the forest, the thick foliage blocking out most of the sun’s waning light and its warmth. The land sloped gently upward and soon trees gave way to brush and the brush then gave way to a small meadow still lit by the sun’s rays. Jonathan thought he heard the sound of running water near by.
Stefan, riding alongside, handed him the reins to his horse as he casually swung a rope into the branches of a large pine tree to the left of him. Then, letting go of the rope, he stood up in his saddle, and, holding onto a large branch, swung himself up into the tree. Jonathan watched him climb up through the branches. Higher up, he spotted a small platform, and assumed that must be Stephen’s destination.
Two of the men following behind dismounted and handed him their reins also. He decided to move the horses away from whatever the men were doing, and followed the Professor and Quincey into the clearing.
The Professor slowly dismounted, hanging onto the sorrel as his feet touched the ground. After a moment he let go, patting the horse affectionately.
“Help me unpack the horses. After that you can take them to the little stream.” He pointed west of the camp.
As they unpacked the horses, they watched Stefan, now on the platform, hook a large bundle onto the rope, and push it off the platform while the two men below hung on to the rope as they took up the weight of the bundle. Stefan climbed back in to the tree, and guided the bundle away from the branches as the men below controlled its descent.
The Professor pointed to the bundle, “That is a gift from Arthur, Lord Godalming. The finest tent canvas, made to my own specifications. This has been our base camp for many years as we have kept watch over the castle, and we needed protection from the rain that is too frequent here, and yes, I know that Vadim Bacsi predicted no rain for us on this trip."”
Jonathan could not help but smile, but, with most of the show over, he and Quincey led the horses to water, but not before the Professor handed them water skins to fill. The stream was small enough to step over, but deep enough for the horses to quench their thirst. Jonathan went upstream with the water skins. As he was filling them, he heard Quincey speaking to the horses in a low soothing tone. He watched as Quincey made his rounds, pulling an ear here, running his hands along the forelegs of another, or checking the back of still another.
Quincey looked up to see Jonathan watching him. Looking slightly embarrassed, he explained,   "Horses are the same no matter what the country, they understand all languages."
 Jonathan laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”