A Loom of Years

Sixteenth Weaving
@Anne E. Fraser 2006

 Blaine was pragmatic about his failure to capture the elusive Etienne Corbeau.  Three or four different Princes now had tried, and failed. Possibly the fellow was uncatchable.  When he and his weary followers finally returned to the vampire court in London, he sent messengers quietly to Gen, to Carmine, to Kalonice and to  Hans–the members of the Council he knew he could rely on to keep their eyes open for any sign of Corbeau. Of course, Corbeau could not enter France, due to Claude’s death curse, but still Genevieve might hear something.

There was nothing more he could do, except hope Corbeau did not circle back and once again enter British territory. It would have been easy enough for him to do.  But more likely the villain had entered Germany, Italy or Spain and made his way to some lonely spot out of reach of the Princes.  No point worrying about it.

He and Olivia threw themselves back into court life and the business of being Prince and Consort. They’d been gone for months, chasing Corbeau, and in that time problems had arisen. Blood feuds between different bloodlines. A new mage sauntering around England, claiming to be Julian the Apostate.  A rogue shapeshifter.

The blood feuds were easily settled by executing the heads of both bloodlines and promising the same to anyone else who didn’t stop fighting.  Right now.  Got it?  Good.

The rogue shapeshifter was rounded up.  She turned out to be a tawny-haired, golden-eyed young woman who answered to Tess and turned into a lioness.  She had thought all vampires were evil monsters and that werewolves were child-eaters.  After a few months as a “guest” (well-treated prisoner) in Blaine’s court, she learned her perceptions were not always true and eventually became a member of the court and of Blaine’s security staff.

As for the mage Julian, whatever he called himself, he had apparently drifted back out of England as mysteriously as he had drifted in and was now in the Ottoman Empire. He was Kalonice’s headache, possibly Zalyina’s,  not Blaine’s. Blaine kept his ears open for news of this mysterious fellow, just in case he returned to England.

There were to be other headaches.  Although human politics did not hold much interest for Blaine and Olivia, they could still affect the court.  There were many events that caused them problems of concealment, for wars could expose vampires quite efficiently.  A Civil War tore England apart, killing its King and imposing the austere Puritan faith upon its people.  The Thirty Years war ended, and there was actual peace for nearly four years before the next war began.

The Black Death returned to England in 1665, killing millions.  There was nothing Blaine could do but watch people die and try to protect the vulnerable ones in his court.  The Great Fire of London swept through the following year, putting an end to the plague but also destroying many landmarks, homes, and things of beauty.  Blaine and Olivia’s manor was left untouched, for it was on the outskirts of London and the flames were not fanned that way, but once again they mourned for losses to the mortals around them.

The Commonwealth ended and Charles II was restored to the throne.  The seventeenth century ended, much as it had begun, with most of Europe fighting amongst itself.  Nothing had changed in the Principalities of vampirism, however.  There was the odd assassination attempt, usually aimed at Carmine but one or two at Zalyina and Nils.  Blaine personally thought that Nils was much too boring to assassinate.

One improvement the eighteenth century brought with it was the invention of paved roads–tarmac.  Finally, an end to mud, broken axles, rain delays.  Olivia celebrated the new mode of travel by going on a long hunt–through trackless forests, although these were getting harder to find.  She insisted that this made perfect sense.

In the middle of the century,  Genevieve admitted to having finally rescued young Gideon Redoak from Corbeau’s nightmare court, which he had apparently set up in Germany, with Ingrid’s knowledge if not approval.  She had done nothing to excise this infestation in her country. Blaine and Genevieve, talking it over between them at one Council meeting, agreed that it was most likely Ingrid had made a deal with the devil.  Corbeau, after all, had murdered two Princes.  Perhaps Ingrid had offered to leave him in peace in return for the same concession from him. Whatever the truth of it was,  Corbeau’s ship from Wales had landed in Bremerhaven, and from there the master vampire had made his way south towards the heart of Germany, eventually settling in an old ruined castle close to Heidelberg.

Gen, unable to enter Germany herself without Ingrid’s permission, which she knew she would not receive, sent the ghoul Elrich to perform the rescue mission.

Apparently Corbeau had grown tired of the young Baron, or had devised a cruel new way to torture vampires, for the boy had been buried in his coffin, fully alert and aware of what had been done to him.  Elrich had dug him out and raced back to the safety of France before either Corbeau or Ingrid could catch on to what had happened.

Genevieve had kept the young man in her own court, reeducating him in the ways of gentler vampires, and now wished to have him return to his home country.  Would Blaine and Olivia permit...?

Of course they would.  Blaine sent back reassurances that the young man would be most welcome in England, although he advised against him returning to Shrewsbury.  The Baron duly arrived in London, where he paid his respects to the court.

He was a rather good-looking young man, though shy and wary.  Blaine and Olivia had both read the private letter from Genevieve in which she had revealed some of the things that had been done to young Gideon.  One could not blame him for being shy and wary.  Blaine assured him that he need not become a courtier or even a regular visitor... as long as he abided by the rules governing all vampires, he was free to live where he wanted. Redoak thanked him quietly and settled down in Chelsea.  Blaine felt that he deserved his privacy, and resolved to leave him alone to find what peace he could.

There were still, always, ever, more wars amongst the humans.  At one Council meeting, during the ... dammit, which one was it?  Seven? Yes, Seven Years War, Genevieve actually walked out of a Council meeting because Rodrigo was haranguing her as if the war was her fault.  Blaine felt like standing up and cheering.  Olivia had to sit on her hands to keep herself from slapping the Spanish Prince; and she saw Carmine’s own knuckles turn white.

That walk must have been quite the adventure, because apparently Genevieve had found a new fledgling amongst the many wounded.  Some poor dying soldier, like hundreds of others, had caught her attention and she’d made him a vampire and taken him home to her court. And, apparently, her bed.

“Well,” said Olivia practically, when Blaine started spluttering about this news, “it has been a long time since Claude died, after all.  Was she supposed to stay chaste, out of his memory?  What nonsense.”

“But this fellow... did you read the report?  Swaggers like a pirate, and plays her false, sleeping with other women!” Blaine was outraged.

Olivia was coolly amused.  “Yet she always takes him back and forgives him,” she said. “So there must be some real affection there.  We shall see at the meeting in Florence.”

The next Council meeting was, indeed, to be in Florence, which meant subjecting themselves to Carmine’s idea of hosting. Oh, he was always charming.  Blaine didn’t trust charm.

“I don’t like this Jean de la Mare,” Blaine grumbled.  “Gen could do better for herself.”

Olivia laughed and shook her head.  “She is not really your niece,” she reminded him. “She is Prince, and master of her own heart.”


____

What they found when they arrived in Florence for the meeting was an uproar.  Ingrid of Germany had been found dead, beheaded, the night she had been preparing to leave for Italy. The assassin was unknown. Of course, all the Princes had felt her die.  Some of them had already been en route to Italy, others making preparations; but they had known.  Another of their number had met the true death.

Lothar, her consort and successor, had then embarked on the bloodiest purge in Council history, far surpassing even what Carmine had done after Ruffina’s betrayal and death.

Speculation was rife.  Vampire Princes were no more immune to gossip than anyone else, and many thought Lothar himself had removed Ingrid in order to take the Council chair.  Rodrigo and Monique held out the theory that Carmine had done the dirty deed, although how he could have entered the German court, committed an execution, and escaped undetected they could not explain.

When Genevieve arrived, she was accompanied by her successor, Maurice, of whom Blaine thoroughly approved.  He would make a good Prince, presumably in some unimaginable future time. It was unthinkable that anything should happen to Gen.  But her other retainer... that bearded fellow bounding out of the carriage, moving like a great cat... that must be the bully-boy, Jean de la Mare.

Olivia was openly smiling at him.  Good lord, the fellow practically reeked of... well, sex. Blaine sniffed.

“If she ever names him Consort,” Olivia said, watching as de la Mare swaggered off with his Prince and her successor, “I will really enjoy the shouting.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Blaine replied.

They adjourned to the suite given over to them in Villa Medici (Carmine Abrizzi was not devoid of a sense of humour) and freshened up to attend the social gathering in the garden.  As Blaine watched Jean dance attendance on his Prince, he realized he was deciding the pirate wasn’t such a bad fellow, at heart.  Perhaps a little untamed, but perhaps that was what Genevieve needed.  She seemed genuinely in love with him.

Other Princes, notably Kalonice and Rodrigo, came over to greet Blaine and Olivia, and, naturally, to gossip about the new addition to the French court.  Rodrigo referred to Jean de la Mare as a patron of prostitutes.  Kalonice was kinder.  And then Carmine made his grand entrance... barefoot, wearing a simple white kaftan (while everyone else, of course, was dressed in their formal best.)

“The devil,” said Blaine, admiringly.

Rodrigo was looking furious, Monique insulted.  Jean, who was obviously doing his best to understand this new world into which he’d been thrown, turned to his Prince and Master in perplexity.

"C'est tout un spectacle," he whispered.

Olivia had to stifle a laugh.  Oh, she liked this wild boy of Gen’s. It was, indeed, all a show.

And then she remembered that Ingrid was dead, possibly killed by that innocent-looking man in the kaftan.

Carmine joined their group, and spoke to Jean, who answered politely although he obviously knew he was being baited.  Blaine felt it incumbent upon himself to intervene, and chided Carmine for teasing someone who could not answer back.  Carmine asked Gen to give Jean such permission, but then excused himself to speak to Rodrigo.

“You murdered Ingrid!” Rodrigo almost shouted it at Carmine.

They all heard the accusation.  They’d all thought it, of course, but nobody had imagined Rodrigo would actually speak it.

Carmine coolly replied that it would have been quite a feat for him to have done so, and walked away.  He ordered dance music to be played, in order to wipe away memory of the ugly moment.

Blaine claimed a dance with Genevieve, and commented on her choice of lover. He’d already changed his mind about Jean, declaring him a breath of fresh air which the Council sorely needed.  Gen smiled.

The evening wore on with no further scenes, rather disappointing Blaine.  He was inclined to linger, hoping for more fireworks between Carmine and Rodrigo, but Olivia dragged him off to bed.  It would be an interesting Council meeting the next night, and she knew it would probably go til almost dawn, so she wanted her quality time with her Prince.

Blaine went quietly.







The next evening, while Olivia harassed the maid who was helping her dress, Blaine slipped out of their rooms and wandered the corridors of Villa Medici.  The palace was gorgeous, all marble and dazzling light.  C’est tout en spectacle, Blaine thought with a grin.  If that boy Jean de la Mare didn’t watch his tongue, he was going to end up in very deep trouble.  Deeper than Genevieve could get him out of.  Speaking the truth didn’t mitigate the crime of speaking his mind.

He was met by Siena, one of Carmine’s security staff and also one of the Italian Prince’s most trusted retainers. If Carmine trusted anyone, it was this unsmiling vampire with the pretty face marred by a scar received in her breathing days. The Turning did not cure such things, more was the pity.  All men could see, when they looked at Siena, was the disfigurement.  Blaine saw her quiet competence and deadliness.  If Carmine hadn’t snapped her up, he’d have taken her for his own security staff.

She asked him his business and he requested a private audience with Prince Carmine.  No doubt Carmine would think Blaine wanted to make some sort of deal.  The hours before a Council meeting began were full of clandestine meetings, deals, cabals, and the occasional sexual liaison. Blaine knew for a fact that Hans and Kalonice had slept together more than once, and had a pretty fair guess that so had Rodrigo and Monique.  What an unholy coupling that must have been.

Siena led Blaine to a wooden door and showed him into an airy, spacious room filled with valuable furniture from a previous century.  It also contained a young boy, sprawled on the floor, frowning over some papers.  As if he was doing schoolwork.  The boy, a thin, dark lad of perhaps seven, looked up as Blaine was shown in.  Siena withdrew, not speaking a word to the boy.

“Hello,” said this boy, as if foreign Princes popped in every night and it was nothing remarkable.  “I’m Nicco.”

There’d been rumours.  Rumours that Carmine had a bed companion of tender years, a young boy.  But Blaine didn’t believe it, especially now that he saw this boy. Certainly the child gave no impression of being a catamite.

“Hello,” said Blaine.  “I’m Blaine.”

“I know,” replied Nicco.  “You’re the English Prince. I was hoping it would be you.  Could you help me, please? I am studying English, and the spelling is very difficult.”

Blaine lowered himself to Nicco’s level by sitting on the floor beside him.  “Let’s have a look, shall we?” he asked.

Carmine found them like this a few moments later when he entered the room.  To judge from how quickly Nicco scampered out, he was in trouble.  But Carmine did not mention the boy, merely invited Blaine to take a chair rather than stay seated on the floor.

“What may I do for you?” Carmine asked.

“Did you kill Ingrid?” Blaine asked.

If Carmine was at all nonplussed by this direct approach, he didn’t show it.

“If I did?”

“I’d jolly well shake your hand. I cannot pretend to be sorry that Ingrid is dead.”

Carmine danced magnificently around the edges of the question, never quite admitting anything but also not quite denying it. Finally he chivvied Blaine out of the private meeting by saying they would be late for the public one.

The meeting itself was quite down key.  Italy looked cool, composed and amused–hardly like a guilty killer.    Nobody quite seemed to want to confront him publicly, after Rodrigo’s accusation of the night before had gone so awry.

Carmine, the devil, ended the meeting with a toast to Ingrid.

“To Ingrid, Sister in the Blood: Denn die totten ritten schnell."  For the dead travel fast.  The quote was from Poe’s _Lenore_.

Olivia had to slap Blaine on the back.
 

Go to the Seventeenth Weaving