Episode 107: Idols of Silver and Gold--a Forever Knight story By April French Characters: Nick, Nat, others Guest Starring: Peter Woodward as Matthew Abbott (A very young) Hayden Christensen as Andre Author's Note: Herein lies the tale of the honeymoon of 'Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas B. Knight.' Most of the honeymoon stories I've read are either R-rated or stronger, but just to be on the safe side, I'm posting the PG version on list. Go to my site (see below) to read the wonderfully juicy contributions of KC Smith. Also, I know about the setting of the story. Nothing. Then again, I know next to nothing about Toronto, so maybe I'll get away with this. Matthew Abbott and the Bergeracs belong to me. Nobody else does, which kinda sucks, since I'd treat them better than the FK PTBs have done. And yes, the actor I picked to play the little boy the original actor from the show, so no griping about my casting choice. Praise, comments, criticism and kudos will be wrapped in soft blue cloth and treasured forever. Nasty flames will be run through with big honkin' Scottish claymores. Once completed, this story will be archived with all the others at http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html. Permission to archive is given to FKFIC, FKFIC2, and the FTP site. All others must first bribe me with newborn foals with white stars on their foreheads. ~~~ "Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hands. They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not: they have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not: they have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat. "They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them." -- Psalm 115, verses 4-8 ~~~ Idols of Silver and Gold (1/5) The car with the dark-tinted windows rambled up and down the Belgian countryside, its driver plodding on doggedly with his Canadian passengers. "" he said in French, with an accent that lightened Nicholas B. Knight's heart with its familiarity. "" Nick turned to the woman sitting beside him, who had fallen asleep some miles back. "Nat," he said lowly, gently shaking her awake. "Natalie... Hey sleepyhead, we're here." "Hmm." Reluctantly, Natalie sat up, rubbing her eyelids with her fingertips. "Already?" "We've been driving for an hour and a half," Nick pointed out. "Tired?" "Not tired, just... very drained, if you'll forgive the expression." "It's the jetlag. You'll be all right in a few days." Nick hugged her. "Two weeks in a medieval castle in autumn will fix that right up." The car pulled to a stop a few hundred yards from the castle's front lawn. Nick practically popped out the door, then turned back to help his new wife out of the car, and he watched with pleasure as Natalie Lambert Knight laid her eyes on her husband's ancestral home for the very first time. Natalie's eyes devoured the castle. The golden-black stone, obscured here and there with tapestries of hanging ivy and vertical beds of moss, rose up out of the surrounding forest like some ancient, living thing, weathered with time, to be sure, but the centuries had only proven that the castle could survive, and did survive, despite two world wars and countless local skirmishes. Natalie wanted to say something deep, something meaningful and profound, or at least slightly melodramatic. "Wow," she managed. "Wow," Nick agreed, throwing back his head and allowing the bluish-purple tinge of the rapidly flowing night sky to soothe his sun-tanged eyes. Every time he came back, he could hear the clang of swords, the scent of wood smoke and roasting meat--he could see himself walking free and easy in the sunlight or the light summer rain, romping with his dog, his horse, his sister. Here he could be human, or pretend to be, and no one would chastise him for it. "Wow, indeed." "Nicholas!" someone shouted in a deep, jovial voice. A tall, massive-shouldered man with bronze skin, a smooth head and brown eyes moved with easy confidence towards them in the new darkness. He held out a strong hand, one that Nick clasped in friendship. "Matthew," he smiled. "It's about time we met under better circumstances. Nat, you remember Matthew?" "Of course." She did, indeed. The one time she had met the ancient vampire, it was over the body of his adopted daughter. He hadn't been happy. But Matthew seemed oblivious to her nervousness. He took Natalie's offered hand and bowed over it. "A pleasure to be meeting you properly at last, Doctor... Lambert? "Yes," Natalie nodded, smiling. "Still Lambert." "Always a joy to meet a modern woman." Matthew straightened up. "Gaston!" A lanky tow-headed boy stuck his head out of an outbuilding. "Come get the master's bags!" Nick nodded to the lad as he loped up to the car and began unloading luggage from the trunk. Then, with Natalie's arm looped through his, they followed Matthew into the castle proper. A plump, elderly woman with the bustling ways of a grandmother and the sharp eyes of a spinster took one look at Nick, threw up her arms and began chattering away in such heavily accented French that Natalie couldn't follow a word of it. And surprisingly, Nick was taking what sounded like verbal abuse like a recalcitrant schoolboy, staring at his toes and hiding a grin with no small difficulty. He looked up at his wife, blue eyes sparkling. "Natalie, this is Madame Bergerac, the housekeeper and de facto overlord of Brabant. She's been here most of her life and will probably be here for the rest of it. Even Matthew respects her authority!" "I bow to seniority," said Matthew wryly. "She's blessing me out for not telling her we were coming, a scolding that I will take seriously because knew damn well to expect us." The older vampire's face was smooth and impassive, and he refused to take the blame. "I was never instructed to inform anyone of your arrival," he pointed out. "You make a terrible yeoman," Nick grumbled under his breath. He returned his attention to the housekeeper. "Her bark is worse than her bite--" Nick was cut off by another flurry of French, sounding half-amused and half-insulted. "--and she understands English very well, so if you need anything while you're here, Nat, just ask her and ye shall receive." Nick crossed his arms, looked Madame Bergerac straight in the eye (straight down, since the old woman was shorter than Natalie by a head) and said two or three words. The old housekeeper's tirade was cut off by a beaming smile. She clasped her hands together joyfully and opened her mouth to say something--just as young Gaston stumbled in with the luggage. Nick, Natalie and Matthew scurried away, and Madame Bergerac turned her attentions to her clumsy grandson. "She's so possessive of the place," Nick grumbled, "you'd think she's lived here longer than I have." She did, however, turn out to be a marvelous cook. Idols of Silver and Gold (2/?) After a sumptuous late dinner (which Natalie devoured but Nick only picked at), Natalie willingly followed her husband through the old stone passageways to the master bedroom. It was pitch black inside. "There is a noticeable lack of luggage," Nick sighed, taking Natalie's arm and guiding her inside. "So the help leaves something to be desired." He scanned the room with his vampiric eyesight. "There are candles. I don't suppose you have any matches? No?" Nick stepped away, leaving Natalie standing stock-still in a very dark and chilly room. "Okay, a lot to be desired." Indeed it did; the fire in the fireplace she had briefly seen from the hall lighting was unlit, the high window was shuttered tight and, Natalie discovered as she inched forward and bumped into the enormous curtained bed, the bedding was covered with dust. "Monsieur Bergerac passed away about eight years ago. Since then, the old woman's raised a lot of dust around the place, but it doesn't give her as much satisfaction. And of course, she didn't know we were coming. I don't keep much help around the place," he finished sheepishly. "So I see," said Natalie dryly. "In a figurative sense only, of course." There were several muffled banging sounds. The scent of dust became noticeably stronger. Nick materialized out of the darkness to reclaim Natalie's arm and lead her to where he had tossed several pillows and cushions from the bed onto the cold flagstone floor. "So, tell me," Nick drawled as he relaxed. "What do you think of the place?" His tone was studiously nonchalant and uninterested, but he really did want to know. Natalie leaned back against the sea of cushions. More precisely, she leaned back against , who was lying against the cushions and pillows. "It's... stately," she said finally. "There's something about the stones here that's almost humming. With... I don't know. With history. Family. I've never felt like this about a building before. Certainly not about anyplace I ever lived with my family. I mean, what am I? A third-generation Canadian-Irish-Russian. My family's history was composed of a lot of old photographs and citizenship papers, not of... anything like this." "Canadian-Irish-Russian?" "Irish on my father's side and Russian on my mother's." "Ah, okay." Nick shifted slightly behind her. "I've never heard you talk about your parents before." "I could say the same for you. Except for Fleur, I've never heard anything about your parents or your family." Nick shifted his legs, drawing one knee up to his chest. "For a vampire," he said softly, "the more mundane mortal memories eventually fade. The instant recall doesn't go any further back than the night you're brought across. Only the most powerful memories from before stay with you. The most beautiful things. The most painful. Everything else just blurs together. "I was about nineteen or twenty when my father died. Fleur was... five, I think." Natalie nodded. This, at least, was something she understood very well. The loss of a parent. "I was ten when my parents died," she remembered softly. "Richard was eight. No, excuse me," she corrected her self with a little chuckle, "eight . He was very adamant about that. How--um..." There really was no way to ask this delicately. "How did he die?" "Oh, he was killed," Nick shrugged, a gesture that, before his explanation, might have struck Natalie as uncharacteristically cold. "On border patrol with my older brother. Bandits. He must have been around forty or fifty." Natalie braced herself, and waited for Nick to throw the question back at her, to ask how parents had died. She closed her eyes. Her muscles felt ready to shatter. But Nick only drew her closer and brushed his lips over her chestnut hair before laying his cheek against the top of her head. Natalie cracked open an eye. "You had a brother?" "Half-brother. My mother was the second wife of Duc Henri de Brabant. The Warrior. My brother Henri was three or four years older than me." Nick chuckled. "The Lord of the Manor. And he knew it. Henri was what the English call 'an old country squire.' Totally devoted to his land and the people on it. The tenants loved him. When he died, the estate went to his son, and on and on down the line until the last son died without issue... Then the estate came to me, the 'descendant' of Nicholas de Brabant, called the Crusader. I stayed the lord of Brabant for centuries, you know, passing it on from 'son' to 'son,' until the feudal system was abolished. Then I sold it... to myself. Now I'm just the owner." He sighed, but it was a contented sigh. "Either way, it's still home. And," Nick pointed out, "it's your home now, as well. You are, as we said in the old days, 'of Brabant.'" "As opposed to...?" "Umm... you were born in Toronto?" "Born and raised." Nick grinned into her hair. "'Natalie of Toronto,' then. My mother was called 'Maria of France,' before she married my father." He thought for a moment. "Huh." "What?" "Remind me to review my family history tomorrow." "O...kaaay. May I have permission to be confused?" "By all means. If I can find it, I'll show you tomorrow." "I guess it's my family now, too, not just my home." "Yes." More went into that one word than Nick could ever fit into a thousand paintings or pieces of music. "And Matthew's done an incredible job with the castle and the grounds..." He glanced at her. "Care to see it?" "Right now?" "Right now." Natalie blinked. "Sure," she grinned. "Why not?" She ruffled Nick's blond curls. He returned the smile, kissed her quickly, then bounded up from his cushion. "Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet. "Maybe by the time we get back, Gaston will have brought our bags up." He led her downstairs and down several corridors. Natalie began to smell hay and leather. "Nick... is there a stable in your castle?" "Not in the castle, Nat. It's attached to the side; that was one of the modern upgrades. This way, you don't have to go outside in the cold to get to your horse." "Like a garage." A laugh jerked itself from Nick's throat. "Yes," he chortled, "I guess so." He opened a door, exposing a massive stable of horses. "Ever ridden before?" "Yeah, when I was a kid." Nick pointed down the long row of stalls. "Take your pick." He watched her carefully as she chose a horse, then saddled and bridled her. "You sure you haven't done this since you were a kid?" "Eh, it's like riding a bicycle." "A bicycle with an attitude." His wife--God, how he loved forming those words--mounted her horse with no little skill. "It's not something you forget." Nick thought about that. "No," he admitted finally. "I guess not." This was his home, and he knew it like the back of his hand, and he was determined that she should know it as well. They rode past the kitchen garden, through the orchards and fields, and into the woods surrounding the castle grounds, that Nick had always refused to allow to be cut. He guided her through the dark, winding forest paths, and together they rode down to a small lake. The night was chilly but crystalline in its clarity. Natalie dismounted her roan mare and walked to down the soft grassy bank to the edge of the water, enchanted. Nick followed her, and put his hands on her shoulders, and she leaned comfortably against his chest. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..." And then Nick's mouth came down on hers. *** He sent the horses round to the stable by themselves. He and Matthew were excellent judges of horseflesh and horse brains; the beasts were intelligent and could find their own way home. He flew back to the castle, with Natalie still asleep in his arms. The window to the master bedroom was now unshuttered, and there was a single candle burning on the sill. "Matthew, you sly devil," he murmured, flying in through the high open window. This bedroom was in the part of the house that Nick had decided not to renovate, so there was no heat and no electric lighting, but someone had taken advantage of their absence. There were flickering candles in many candelabras scattered about, and a welcome fire was quietly burning in the wide fireplace. Their baggage had finally been brought up, the room had been cleaned, and the massive curtained bed was made up and ready for them. Nick laid Natalie on the bed, kissing her forehead. "Nicolas..." Nick looked around curiously. He checked out in the hallway, but it was completely empty. Frowning, he shut the big oaken door and bolted it, then checked the window. He scanned the grounds outside for as far as his enhanced vision could manage, but he could see nothing. "Huh." He closed the high narrow shutters tightly against the approaching sunlight, then stripped off his token clothing and slipped into bed beside his new wife. Idols of Silver and Gold (3/?) The first thing Natalie noticed when she opened her eyes was Nick's arm draped protectively over her midsection. The second thing she saw was the silver flask on the bedside table, lying on its side, uncapped, and empty. Next to it was Nick's silver pillbox. Rising slightly on her elbows, Natalie could see two liquid capsules, filled with murky, bluish-purple fluid. That was the quadrocaine, the high-powered medication Nick took to keep his tumors within tolerable pain limits. The two daily doses were right there; the emergency dose was missing. Nick's drowsy mental voice teased her gently. The arm around Natalie's waist tightened, and she snuggled back against him. The more they communicated this way, the easier it got, but it still made Natalie a little uncomfortable. Her thoughts were wide open and accessible to Nick, while he could choose to block her at any time. And she was petrified that an older vampire or one with special talents--like Kai--could invade her privacy at a moment's notice. Not that Kai ever would, but someone else... She forcibly pushed the thought to the back of her mind. A strong wave of embarrassment and Nick's own special brand of sheepishness permeated the bond. Nick's hand traveled slowly up Natalie's body. He tangled it in her chestnut curls and pulled them gently aside. "Did I hurt you?" he murmured, nuzzling the healing puncture wounds. "No." Natalie rolled over to face him. "You almost embarrassed the hell out of me, though. Right there out in the open!" Nick's face fell. "Did it really bother you that much? Nat, I'm so--" Natalie kissed his lips softly. "I'm kidding. It was beautiful." They lay quietly for a few minutes. "And I'm starving. What time is it?" Nick reached for his wristwatch. "One-thirty in the afternoon." "No wonder." Natalie flung off the bedclothes. "Are you coming down?" she asked nervously as she dressed, since Nick was showing no inclination to get up. "Or am I going to have to wrangle with Mme. Bergerac by myself?" "She does speak English, Nat, if with a very heavy accent." Nick sat up. "And yes, I'm coming down." He grinned. "I was just enjoying the view first." *** The wonderful thing about medieval castles was their general lack of large windows. Nick simply sidestepped the few shafts of mid-afternoon sunlight and descended the stairs with Natalie on his arm. "My neck needs to be on a swivel," she grumbled, trying to take in everything. "Patience, Nat. We're here for two weeks; you'll have plenty of time to explore. Besides, you're hungry, remember?" "When did you renovate?" Natalie asked, as they sat down at a table in the castle's kitchen. "In the 1970s. But it's only the first level and part of the cellar. I wanted to use the property to host functions for the DeBrabant Foundation, so I had to bring at least part of it up to building code." Nick eyed the steaming bowls that Mme. Bergerac was placing on the table. "So, what should we do today, hmm?" Natalie chewed and swallowed. "You said you wanted to show me something in your family history," she reminded him. So after they had eaten, Nick took Natalie back upstairs and showed her the castle library. "Oh, my... God... I'm going to start drooling very, very soon." The circular stone room was lined--absolutely coated--with books, resting securely on sturdy wooden shelves. The furniture and lighting were all medieval reproductions and the chairs didn't look all that comfortable, but the presence of all those books erased all complaints from Natalie's mind. She sank into a straight-backed, lightly padded chair, overwhelmed. "These... these aren't all originals, are they?" Nick smiled as he pawed dexterously through the stacks. "They're not all original to the castle, no. But every one's a first edition." "I feel faint." "Well, don't pass out just yet," Nick cautioned cheerfully. He set a ragged book on the table and sat down opposite her. The first page of the ancient text was three-quarters covered with a full-color representation of the Brabant lion. Nick turned the page--which was no longer attached to its disintegrating binding--over carefully, and began running his finger down the calligraphic text. Almost immediately, a grin spread across his face. Natalie squirmed. "What?" she asked impatiently. Nick turned the book around. Thanks to her medical training, Natalie had some familiarity with Latin, but this writing was so ornate as to render it unreadable to her. Nick reached over and pointed to a specific passage. "That is the name of the first Duke of Brabant," he explained, "or count, as the title was originally. He was the man who founded my family. "Lambert the First, Count of Brabant and Louvain." Natalie's eyes widened, and she bent over the old text. "You're kidding." "Nope." "Small world." "It is indeed." Nick closed the book thoughtfully. Then he made a wide, sweeping gesture. "Help yourself, my love," he grinned. Idols of Silver and Gold (4/?) They spent the rest of the afternoon in the cozy little library, and after a light dinner, Nick invited Matthew up to the armory to help him show Natalie some swordsmanship. Matthew had never been a soldier, but he had lived long enough to have picked up a good amount of knowledge, and was still more than capable of handling himself in a sword fight. Nick, on the other hand... "You know, Nicholas," said Matthew thoughtfully, shouldering his sword, "it's a good thing I'm not trying to kill you." Nick stared ruefully at the slice on his left bicep. "All right, so I'm a little rusty." "Nick," Natalie began, "do you think I should look at that?" "No, Nat, that's okay." He pulled the fabric away from the bleeding cut and raised an eyebrow at his groundskeeper. "First blood," he admitted grudgingly, holding out his bleeding arm. "Take your prize." "Not necessary." Matthew wiped his broadsword carefully and sheathed it. "You should let your wife take a look at that cut," he said seriously. "You know what holy water does to your healing abilities." Nick nodded. Natalie left to get her medical bag from the bedroom. "Second door to the left and straight down the hallway!" Nick called after her. Matthew rolled his hard brown eyes. "Ah, matrimony." He stepped up to Nick and examined the thin sword cut. "Does it hurt?" "Only my ego." Nick tongued one of his canines, thinking. Has anything strange been happening here?" "Strange?" Matthew repeated. "How do you mean?" "I thought I heard someone calling my name last night." Matthew pursed his lips. "Funny you should mention that. The Bergeracs have been complaining of odd noises and inexplicably broken crockery for some time, now." "How long?" "1979." "'79? Why haven't you ever mentioned this, Matthew?" "Nicholas. How often are you here? Besides, whatever this, is, it's one of two things. The effect of an old castle on superstitious mortals, or a ghost. There nothing you can do about the former, and I wouldn't recommend interfering with the latter." *** That night, Nick couldn't sleep. Suffering from jet lag and from deciding to sleep at night, his rhythms were all shot to hell. He got up and dressed, and went to see Matthew down at the stables. But Matthew was not there. Aimlessly, Nick wandered over the castle grounds in the dark, eventually coming to the tiny cemetery. He had had new, clear markers made for his entire family some time ago. For his mother and father, for his brother Henri and his wife, and their descendents, for Fleur, and for Fleur's son Andre. There was no marker for Fleur's husband Anthony. Mulling this over in his brain, Nick smiled. There had been a number of historians whom he had let stay at Brabant over the past twenty years or so, since he had renovated the grounds, and they were all crazy to know why Anthony was not buried with his wife and son. But the truth was, Nick didn't know where his Anthony de Rouen had been laid to rest in the first place. He had simply left home one day, and never returned. There was, however, a stone for himself. It had no dates, just his name, and a brief epitaph: 'He is awaiting light.' The historians had gone into scholarly spasms over that puzzle, too. "'Awaiting light.'" Nick wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have his stone changed. He had light, after a fashion. But when he had had the stone made up, 'light' in his mind meant 'salvation.' He was naïve, but he wasn't vain enough to think he was worthy of salvation yet. His eyes fell on Andre's grave. he thought, "Nicolas..." Nick stiffened, and his mind flung all out of control, flying back to two winters ago. < "No..." he whispered, choking. "Andre... it can't be." "Nicolas..." Nick turned to face the spirit. "I'm lost, Nicolas. Where am I?" "You're home, Andre. This is Brabant, I've brought you home." "Help me, Nicolas! Help me! Help me..." +++ Nick bolted upright in bed, sweating watery pink blood. Natalie was still sleeping soundly. Nick curled up next to her and tried to go back to sleep, but the sounds of Andre's cries eliminated all possibility of rest. Idols of Silver and Gold (5/?) When Nick took his one pint of holy water-laced blood that morning, he surprised his wife by reaching across the table for the coffeepot and pouring a generous amount of scalding black caffeine into his breakfast mug. Nick took one sip and gagged. "Ack. Kai's right; that is vile." He held his breath and downed the whole mixture in one gulp. "That can't be good for you," observed Natalie. "Probably not. But until the blood brokers start producing caffeinated blood... I didn't sleep well last night." "Well, it's been a long time since you've had to reset your internal clock," Natalie pointed out. Nick nodded. He poured himself a mug of straight hemoglobin and took out his silver pillbox. Natalie waited until he had ingested his twice-daily dose. "Is that really working for you?" "I suppose. The pain never really goes away, but at least I'm not passing out in the shower anymore." He shut the pillbox with a snap and tossed it back and forth, absently, between his fingers. Natalie put her fork down. "What's on your mind, Nick?" "Hmm? Oh, nothing. A bad dream." "Uh huh. A bad dream. Was this anything like the dream you had a couple years ago, the one that caused you to wake me in the middle of the day with a very annoying telephone call? To inquire as to my safety?" "I refuse to be embarrassed over that," Nick retorted, flicking a sugar cube at her. "Come on," he said, jumping up. "Let's go for a ride." "In broad daylight?" "I drank my poison." "No, I mean..." "Natalie! Just a ride, Nat," Nick said with a wicked grin. "I promise. I want you to see the grounds in the sunlight. want to see the grounds in the sunlight!" Nick yelled for Gaston. "Go wake up Matthew--carefully, boy!--and tell him to saddle two horses." He turned back to Natalie. "Can you believe it? Twenty years and I've never gotten a decent look at the new landscaping." Nick and Natalie went through the dining hall, through the great hall to the stable, into the bright stable yard, and found Matthew holding two horses for them, and a third for himself. Natalie blinked. "Shouldn't you be smoking?" "Nicotine's bad for the blood. No, Doctor. I who helped Nicholas's Kai learn how to withstand the sun's rays have no quarrel with the bright orb." He clapped Nick on the shoulder. "Buck up, old man. Some men are born with wisdom, some acquire it, some have it thrust at them on pain of death. It's a life." They rode over the massive Brabant grounds. Matthew and Nick talked of fields and drainage, and in between, they pointed out many of the estate's unique features to Natalie. Eventually she, growing a little bold, asked Matthew about himself. Nick winced. Matthew only chuckled. "Only in broad daylight, fair lady," he marveled. "That is the one question you should a vampire. We have to live in the moment to survive. Dwell too much in the past, and it strangles you." Shortly thereafter, Matthew went back to his bed above the stable--"Just because I can go abroad during the day, Nicholas, doesn't mean I actually enjoy it."--and Natalie followed Nick further away from the castle. They spent the rest of the day in the village, shopping, strolling, laughing, and generally having a very good time--although the sight of poor Nick's scarred face was enough to frighten a few small children into taking refuge behind their mothers' skirts. The newlyweds took supper at a local café, then returned to the castle and went to bed, with every intention of sleeping the night through. Unfortunately, the best laid plans of vampires and coroners... Something poked Nick in the shoulder. "Nicholas," came a quiet voice. "Nicholas, wake up." Nick sat bolt upright. "Matthew? Christ, don't that!" he hissed. Natalie grumbled something unintelligible, but she was clearly awake and not happy about it. "What is it? Is something wrong?" "Come down to the stable," Matthew told him. "Both of you, quickly. There's something you should see." A whoosh of air told Nick his groundskeeper was gone. "Come on, Nat," he murmured, shaking her gently. Natalie shrugged him off and yanked the covers closer to her chin. "I thought he was supposed to take orders from you," she muttered thickly. "It's your castle." "Natalie, when an Ancient's on your payroll, you listen to what he has to say." *** Matthew was crouching on the straw-covered stone floor, just outside the door of one of the larger horse stalls. He looked up briefly when Nick and Natalie entered the stable, dressed sloppily and looking decidedly annoyed, but he quickly returned his attention to the inside of the stall. "Come over here," he whispered. Nick and Natalie crept softly to the door of the open stall and peered inside. Within the depths of the dark enclosure, a mare was in labor. Nick knelt down beside his groundskeeper to get a better look. Natalie, awed, laid her hands on his shoulders. Matthew saw their expressions and smiled to himself. This was the black mare's first foal, but she needed no help from the onlookers, and soon she was licking clean a little colt as black as she was. Matthew murmured an ancient Welsh blessing. Nick remembered... @}----- Nicholas gripped his nephew's thin shoulder fondly. "You see?" he whispered. Andre, deep blue eyes wide, nodded. The mare nudged her colt with her nose, urging it to get up and nurse. Wobbling on its new legs, the colt slowly rose. It had a perfect white star on its forehead. It poked around its mother's belly and began to drink. The mare had a contented, almost serene air about her. "I see, Nicolas," Andre said. @}----- With difficulty, Nick swallowed. "Never let anyone say miracles don't happen anymore." *** They walked slowly back through the chilly castle. "That wasn't your first time seeing a horse born, I take it?" "Oh, no." Nick chuckled. "I fairly lived on horseback for almost all of my eight hundred years. It's impossible to spend that much time around horses and not see at least one born. I've seen a lot of animals born. Horses, dogs, cats, livestock... But never... "Is it possible, Nat, do you think, that if I can get well enough, Julian will give me his denzinol treatment?" "I doubt it. Remember how reluctant he was to give the stuff to Janette? And he can't make it last any more than eight months." "Eight months," said Nick significantly, "would be more than enough time for what I have in mind. I hardly think it would take eight months for a mortal man and a mortal woman, in their prime of life, to start a family." And he drew Natalie closer against the chill of the northern night. "Nicolas..." Nick stopped short. "Did you hear that?" "Yes, I did." Natalie's voice wavered ever so slightly. She grabbed Nick's hand and together they raced back to the bedroom. The fire in the master bedroom had long since gone out and the night was frigid, so Nick rummaged around in a chest and hauled out an expansive bearskin rug, which he tossed over the bed. Natalie crawled onto it gratefully. "Nat, you're supposed to get under it." "I know. But there's just something about fur that makes you want to lie it." Nick flung himself on the fur. He lay on his stomach and grinned up at her. "What're you smiling at?" "You. Your nose is red." "It's cold! And this castle isn't exactly well-insulated. I'm gonna kill Matthew for dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night." Natalie tucked her knees up under her. "You know, I think if Matthew hadn't barged in on us, you might have actually slept through the night." "I think you're right." Nick hauled himself upright. "The strangest things happen to me in this place," he confided. "I feel more mortal here than I do anywhere else, except when I'm with you. You make me feel mortal, Nat." A glint of humor infused his deep voice. "You, with your King Kong movies and your bad knee." Natalie smiled and batted her eyes in mock seduction. "May I take this to mean that you... idolize my knee?" "Oh, definitely. It's my choice of all the body parts!" And they laughed. Idols of Silver and Gold (6/?) But Nick, as he trudged back to the castle, wondered. <> <> He wandered aimlessly through the castle, unconsciously shying away from the modernized section, and ended up in the tiny chapel, a room that had been locked for almost four centuries. He broke the old iron lock and stepped cautiously inside. The blessed room was freezing, and stunk of old incense. Nick lifted his eyes to the recessed wall where the large crucifix traditionally hung. There was nothing there but a pile of dust; the cross had long since rotted away, as had the velvet cushion where the faithful knelt to pray. Nick clutched at the two crosses that hung at his throat, the tiny silver one and the larger gold and ruby Jerusalem cross that his wife had given him. He brought them to his lips and kissed them, and knelt before the empty recess. "Andre. It's Nicolas. Can you hear me?" "Nicolas. Nicolas. Uncle. Where am I?" "You're home, Andre. I brought you home." "I don't know this place." "This is Brabant. This is our family home. I brought you here. You belong here, Andre. With me. You don't have to be afraid... Andre? I can't see you. Are you here?" "I am afraid, Nicolas." "There's no need!" "I'm afraid for the lady." "The lady. Natalie." "Leave her alone, Nicolas!" A pair of small invisible fists began to pummel Nick in the stomach. "I know what you'll do to her! I know; I saw. Leave her alone!" Nick scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the chapel. He almost made it to the master bedroom, but collapsed outside the door, crying. A hand touched his shoulder. "Nick," Natalie said, alarmed. "What is it?" "Andre... mon neveu... Andre..." "Nick. Tell me." "I can't," Nick insisted, sobbing silently. "I can't." *** With Matthew's help, Natalie got Nick into bed. He was quieter now, but the blood tears were still coursing down his cheeks. She pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. Nick didn't move. "What," she asked Matthew tightly, "is going on here?" The Ancient held up a placating bronze hand. The woman really was amusing when she was angry, he reflected. "We have a ghost," he said simply. "A what?" "A ghost. Nicholas's nephew, Andre." "Is that what I heard last night?" "Most likely. The Bergeracs have been telling me about this ghost for years." "For how long?" "1979." "That was the year Nick had this place renovated." Natalie ruffled a hand through her curls. "And that's important... how?" "It was also the year he had Andre and Fleur's bodies moved here from Rouen." His eyebrows drew together in a frown, and he shook his head. "I warned him at the time, but he didn't want to listen." "Warned him about what?" "It is said to be most unwise to disturb the dead. He has aroused the boy's spirit in some way. You don't look convinced. Do you not believe in the spirits of the dead?" Involuntarily, Natalie shivered. "I believe... Matthew, I'm a scientist!" "Who happens to be married to a vampire." Matthew crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Natalie with eyes darkened with age. "There are mysteries about my people--and about this world--that your science will never uncover. Remember, my people were here before your science." Natalie scowled. "Then how am I supposed to help my husband?" She watched as Matthew walked to the bedside, knelt down, and traced two fingers down Nick's scars. He shook his head slowly from side to side, muttering under his breath. Then he stood, approached Natalie and put both his hands on her shoulders. "He will tell you how," Matthew promised. "When he is ready." He exited the bedroom swiftly, closing the door behind him. Natalie rubbed her shoulders; where his hands had rested, they tingled peculiarly, like a light sunburn. Nick sighed. Natalie sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. She brushed an unruly lock of blond hair from his forehead. He had finally stopped crying, and now the tear trails of blood were dry and flaking off his face. Natalie went to the door and called for Mme. Bergerac to bring up water and a washcloth. Gently, she washed away the tears. Nick blinked slowly. "He saw me feeding," he murmured. Idols of Silver and Gold (7/9) @}----- LaCroix smirked in triumph. "He knows now," he commented smugly. "Damn you, LaCroix," whispered Nicholas desperately. "I would have told him." Then he flew out of the castle, intent on catching his nephew. It didn't take long. "Let me go!" "Andre, listen to me!" Nicholas tried to focus on the boy's heartbeat. "I will not hurt you." "You're a demon! A monster! You're not my uncle, you can't be!" The cries cut into Nicholas's heart. He tightened his grip on Andre's forearms. "Stop this foolishness!" he growled harshly, shaking his nephew. "I hurt you." Gradually, as his uncle's hypnotic influence took hold, Andre's breathing eased. "I am what I am, and I cannot change that. But I am your uncle. You are my flesh and blood." "What are you?" Andre whispered. "Those women... you killed them." Nicholas nodded. "To feed. That is why I never eat with you. I cannot. I am a vampire." Andre's eyes widened in terror, and he began to struggle again. "Andre, Andre. I won't hurt you, I would never hurt you. You must trust me." Andre didn't answer. Nicholas put an arm around the boy's thin shoulders and led him back to the castle. @}----- "He went to his room as soon as we got back. I tried to talk to him, to explain, but he wouldn't listen. So I went to bed. And sometime that day, he took a dagger and..." Nick reached up and rubbed his throat, shrugged and shuddered. "I understand," Natalie said quickly, wanting to spare him as much pain as she could. "Nick, I'm... so sorry." Her lovely little goddaughter flashed through her mind. "I've often wondered what was running through that boy's head. To be so afraid for his life, his... very soul... There was a cross that he had been carving, that was in his hands when I found him. He was a very devout boy. That he would risk damning his soul to hell by taking his own life, rather than stay with me... "By the time I awoke, it was too late. He was almost gone. There was nothing I could do to save him. Nothing that could be done. LaCroix even tried to..." Nick couldn't finish the sentence; it was too horrible, far more so than suicide. @}----- LaCroix straightened up and wiped his mouth. "I am sorry, Nicholas," he said huskily. Nicholas's knees gave out. He fell to the floor beside his nephew's body. "Damn you, LaCroix," he growled through his tears. "This never would have happened if you had not come." "What makes you so certain he would not have taken the same course, if and when you finally got around to telling him?" With a swirl of his cloak, LaCroix knelt face to face with his fledgling. "This is doing! It is your that my nephew is dead!" "And it is fault that your sister is dead as well," LaCroix hissed back. "So we both have pointless blood on our hands." Nicholas cradled Andre's thin, lifeless body to his chest, tears streaming unchecked down his face. "You promised me that one day, if I ever truly love a mortal, you would take her from me. Now it is my turn to make a bargain with you, LaCroix. One day, when you have become 'attached' to a mortal child, I will take from you what you have taken from me tonight. We're agreed?" "I will never give you the chance," LaCroix warned him darkly. " ?" The old Roman nodded. "We are agreed." @}----- "He said he'd never give me the chance. He did, though." That brought Natalie up short. Then she remembered. "Daniel?" Nick nodded. "Mmmhmm. LaCroix was going to kill Daniel. A few weeks after he brought the boy across, he was just going wild. Driving us all insane. But I asked him... I asked him not to. That was his debt to me. Andre died because of what LaCroix showed him. And then I was supposed to take responsibility for Daniel." Nick laughed softly. "But before he got around to giving him to me, the Second World War was over. And we were all more than ready to let Étienne take him." He drifted off in his own thoughts for a while. "What about his father?" Natalie asked after a while. "Hmm?" "Andre's father. Fleur's husband. What happened to him?" Nick shrugged. "I wish I knew. From what I understand--I wasn't there at the time--he rode away from the castle one day and Fleur never saw him again." He swallowed a few times to have something to do. "His name was Anthony. I didn't know him all that well. He was a good enough man, but I think Fleur was disappointed with him." "Why?" "Well, Anthony was like most other men in those days. The head was used for wearing a helmet." Nick rubbed his chin. "I just wish I knew what had happened to him. He never struck me as the kind of man to just up and abandon his wife and child." He sighed heavily. "Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if LaCroix had something to do with it. He gave in to my demands so easily that night... I've never known LaCroix to feel guilty over anything--" "I'll second that," Natalie muttered. "--but he occasionally does feel shame. In very small doses." Natalie turned to put the washcloth back in the bowl. Nick grabbed her wrist. "Nat? Don't leave, okay?" "I won't," she promised. Nick lapsed back into silence. Natalie curled up next to him, and they spent the rest of the day lying in bed, thinking. When the sun finally went down, Nick pushed aside the blanket and sat up, holding his head. "Can I have my pillbox, please?" He popped a capsule into his mouth, and took a swig from his etched silver flask. "Are you hungry?" Nick questioned. Natalie shook her head, pushing the hair from her eyes. "Then come with me." Idols of Silver and Gold (8/9) "Nick," Natalie questioned, "where are you taking me?" Nick didn't answer. Instead, he led her down a hill and up a small rise. And there was the Brabant family graveyard, from the ornate and crumbling crypt of Count Lambert the first at the back of the clearing to the bogus headstone for Nick not two feet in front of them. Natalie's eye caught the dates on Fleur and Andre's headstones. Fleur de Brabant--or Fleur de Rouen, as she would have been known at the time of her death--had been only thirty-nine years old, barely four years older than Natalie. Andre died when he was fourteen. "Talk to him." "To who?" "Andre." "Nick, you know I don't--" "I know. Just--just talk." "About what?" "Andre saw me feeding. He needs to know that I'm not going to hurt you. He won't listen to me, Nat. Talk to him. Please." So Natalie, a little awkwardly, began to talk. Without quite meaning to, she slipped into the tone of voice she reserved for her parents' and Richie's and Cynthia's graves. "Um, hi. Andre? I... I don't know if you can hear me--I don't even know if you'll understand English. But if you're worried about me, I--I'm flattered, but you don't need to worry. I know what Nick is. And I don't care. He hasn't hurt me. I'm with him because I want to be. I love him." They waited. Slowly, a form coalesced in front of them, and Natalie felt the blood in her veins turn to sand. It was Andre, with his long brown hair and big blue eyes, and a terrible dark spot on his tunic, between his ribs, his carving knife in his hands. "He has not hurt you?" Nick put his hands on Natalie's shoulders. "She is my wife. I won't hurt her. I would never hurt her." Andre looked down at his knife, confused. "I don't know where I am." "You're home, Andre." "Home?" "Home. Your mother is beside you, your grandparents behind you. This is where you belong." Andre looked up. His blue eyes suddenly became clear, and he disappeared. Nick bent down and picked up something from the grave, and then, arm in arm, he and Natalie walked back to the castle. Idols of Silver and Gold (9/9) Epilogue October 1997 Nick and Natalie clinked their glasses together. "Glad to be home?" he asked, swallowing the excellent vintage. "Yes," Natalie decided after a moment. "Belgium and Brabant were beautiful, but somehow--" Nick dropped a kiss on her nose. "This is home," he finished. Natalie nodded, and took a sip of her wine, and frowned at the expression on Nick's face. "What?" Nick shook his head, smiling. "LaCroix tried for centuries to teach me what you've just spelled out in a few words. Home for us isn't a place; it's people. Family." They snuggled together in front of the fireplace. "And Family isn't just about who you're born to. It's about whom you belong to. 'They that maketh them are like unto them...'" His hands drifted over Natalie's stomach. "I'm going to start spending more time with Daniel," he continued. "I've lost the chance to have him as a son, but I can still be a part of his life. He's still so young at heart, LaCroix's going to have some problems with him. And I think... it's the best way to honor Andre's memory." "That's a lovely idea." Natalie nuzzled softly at his neck. "But I can think of other ways..." She stilled his lazy hands against her stomach. Nick kissed the crown of her head. "That's getting a little ahead of the subject, hmm? We still don't know if we can. No," said Nick decisively. "God willing, if and when we have one, I won't name my son after my nephew. I don't think that would be a kindness to either of them." *** "Well?" "Well, what?" "Should I be planning a baby shower any time soon?" "Grace!" Natalie shook her head and tried to refrain from sticking her co-workers with her scalpel. "You are incorrigible!" she exclaimed. "Don't I get any privacy anymore?" "Absolutely not," Julian grinned succinctly. "And you're as bad as she is!" "So, come on," Grace egged. "Come on, girl. Spill." "Oh, fine. We went to Belgium." "Belgium? Great honeymoon destination." "It was nice. Very beautiful country. A little chilly, though." "Not a problem for long, I'll bet," ventured Julian cheekily, earning a smack on the arm from Grace. "And no, no baby shower, Grace, sorry." "Not yet, you mean." Grace smacked his arm again. "Hey, ow." "Real mature, Julian." "Hey, what can I say? I'm a victim of arrested development." And he winked. "It was very nice, very private. Nick and I talked a lot, and we... put some things to rest." *** Tenderly, Nick wrapped the crude dagger in his soft plum-colored tunic. He opened the drawer of his dresser where he kept his most treasured items, and laid the relic between the silver pillbox Natalie had given him one Valentine's Day, a carved wooden box, and an ancient ring that his mother had given him on his last night at Brabant. "Rest, mon neveu, and peace." ~Finis--March 28th, 2003~ April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== ~Forever Knight: The Sons of Lilith~ http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html ~The Corvina~ http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/index.html "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightning" by Arthur Rimbaud