The wolves way

Part 1

It was five days ago that three colleagues, Simon, Simon’s wife Jayne and John were sat surrounded by the dahlias and rhododendrons around the garden table as the sun went down somewhere in the Cotwolds.

‘Dracula is dead; let’s get one thing straight about that. So there’s nothing to be worry about entering the castle. But the only thing is with the introduction of restrictions on the territory by Romanian government, we’ll have to walk there.’

’We don’t have accreditation.’

’We are able to enter the vicinity with visas under the protection of his majesty’s office; we can search the Bran castle premises completely to find any artifacts or treasures that could be of interest to the museums, in both Romania and England. The relationship between the two politically speaking is quite good, as there has always been a connection. Our king even has an estate in the south east of the country!’

’Well… I’m still not sure I can manage it these days.’ said John, reluctantly.

’It’s all arranged John. The British government have promised that it will be your last project, and they are offering a reward at the end; whatever you find, you’ll be allowed to keep.’

’What’s in it for them then?’

’Now John, don’t get paranoid. The rest has to be processed by us and taken back to the museums.’

’All you have to do is say yes.’

’Let me consider it all Simon; it’s been five years since I was out in the field. I retired, remember.’

John walked to the edge of his garden, on the Welsh cliff edge, overlooking the crashing Atlantic ocean below. Jayne joined him at the rail.

John adjusted his reading glasses and gave the both of them a smile. He’d always quite fancied twenty five year old Jayne, but then who wouldn’t fancy this delightful creature? The smell of scented rose perfume overpowered the wild mint which so filled the late morning air hours long ago now. Her smile was a mystery that lingered.

’Why would I want to go out there again when I have all I need here?’ John asked Jayne, breaking the silence. ‘No danger, no challenge.’ He could feel his heart beat faster; her beauty never grew old on him.

’Exactly John,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you bored?’ ‘We’ve known each other for a long time haven’t we John?’ she said. ‘I know you.’ She was practically fluttering her long eyelashes.

’Won’t you go on one last adventure with us? For us? For me?’ She looked at him with those pretty brown eyes. Her Hepburn smile could have melted the heart of a king. ‘Bran castle was always your gold egg wasn’t it. Won’t it be a your feather in the belt to find out what’s in there, all those secrets, that Count Dracula kept there? It’s safe…the vampires are dead…many years ago.’

John turned to her. ‘One last trip then.’

’One last trip.’ she echoed.

’Not for you,’ he added, ‘For her.’

’Fine then.’

Part 2

It took them four days to trek the Transylvanian wilderness to get to castle Bran.

It had taken all Mr. Ashworth’s map reading skills and navigation, Mrs. Ashworth’s organisation and positivity and John’s general survival and bush craft experience to get them through the un-trailed forests, through the wolf and bear country. But fortunately, the wolves were shy of humans and the bears only came if threatened themselves, and the team of three trod with care.

For a sixty five year old, John was a well built and fit ‘older man’ who had seen three children grow up and several grandchildren most of whom were now in school. His two sons and one daughter were around the same age as his colleagues and friends here, but he rarely spoke to his children these days.

’It doesn’t matter now,’ thought John.

Part 3

“Are you there, God? It’s me…” uttered John inside the small chapel of Bran castle, but the archeologist’s words fell dead on the air in the mustard coloured sandstone chamber. A mild-gust wind came in from the western Carpathian Mountains in Transylvania.

’I’m not any good at this,’ thought John. He was bent down at the chapel pew, positioned with his knees on the hard cushion and his head bowed and hands supplicated.

By reputation alone, the castle had a dark feel about it. The soft wind continued to blow steadily, as John looked up at the statue of Christ that shone a bright blue within the depths of the room, and just then a gentle breeze blew through the courtyard and into the open doorway of the chapel; heavy gusts broken down into light breezes by the broadleaved illustrious oaks, or tall beach and splendid hornbeams that pervaded the Transylvania region in all its splendor; great sandstone mountains, rivers, forests and wide rivers that encased the pinnacled Bran castle from all directions.

The scent of wild mint and lavender filled the air and came into the high exterior of the ghastly castle walls. While hundreds of Swallowtails and Fritillaries and Marbled White flittered about from the Buddleja, lavender and milkweed among the meadows and edges of the forest, way down below.

From the meadows, the wind whistled through open windows, narrow and thin along the once gold White Castle walls and slid past the dull amber where the stone bricks had browned from six centuries of aging. Even from here, John could hear the pleasant sound of the silver birches, which rustled in the level below within the castle’s garden parameter.

Pause

There was a knock on the chapel door and John turned around to look who it was.

’John….’ said the voice from around the corner of the open entrance of the chapel. ‘It’s me.’

John felt a sudden chill and asked (twice): ’What?’ ‘Is that you God?’ ‘God, is that you?’

pause

’You’re a funny guy John, even if you are an old timer. It’s me, your friend, Mr. Ashworth.’

His trusted friend and colleague had been waiting in the courtyard outside for the past hour and John had forgotten all about him; thus was his focus on God and the upcoming task at hand.

’Why, oh yes, of course.’ replied John, ‘I’d completely forgotten you were there. Must be getting forgetful in my older days; well I am nearly 66!’

’Well … we’ve found something interesting for you…for us all actually.’ boomed Mr. Ashworth.

‘Okay Ash,’ responded John. ‘I’ll be out in a second.’

He went back to his praying and continued the finalities of his silent inner dialogue with God.

‘Please God,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Whatever you’re doing, please help me with this project and keep my friends and me safe.’

’At 65 this could be my last time out on a project. So help me out!’

pause

Like always there was no response, but for the gentle drip of water. Deep down, however, he knew the answer. ‘You can never get something for nothing.’

’So, what would he need to give, for God to help? If at all that was even an option? God was more an entity who allowed the chips to fall where they may John felt.’

‘However…’

He thought about it for a while as the sunbeams from outside that drifted in shifted round the chapel and the wild doves from the forest flew to the rooftops to sing their gentle songs. Then, the answer came to him. Whatever treasure they found in this forsaken place, he would give his share back to God, and to the church. In his heart he knew God was listening and he was glad.

John backed out slowly down the narrow isle and bowed once he reached the door. Out of a sycophantic superstition, he never made the sign of the cross. He had never really been religious, but in later years his mind had naturally begun to veer towards Christianity, which surprised even John himself. ‘Perhaps he really was getting older.’ he thought. ‘He never felt it before like this though.’

He put on his dark green flat cap and straightened out his button shirt before he walked out into the courtyard and light of day to meet his friend.

The miser silhouette of Mr. Ashworth emerged like a shadow within the apex glare of the bright sun, which was on its descent down to the western Piatri Craiului mountain valleys behind; while the Bucegi mountains were in the South-East.

The sky was a combination of grey and rose pink patterns on the skyline even though it was only late afternoon. The red that emerged from the grey clouds were shaped like petals. The great castle, sat in the northern end of the Rucar-Bran pass, towered behind Mr. Ashworth, and the younger man, thirty three last month in July, was holding a thick leather book in the courtyard of Bran that was so heavy he used both hands to hold up: and John could see the strained muscles through the flak shirt.

Mr. Ashworth smiled however and said: ‘I told you John, we found something.’ And handed the book over to the older man.

Ash had had a good start in life to become an outdoor-going archeologist similar in John’s line of work. The young man’s wide rough textured hands revealed him as someone who’d worked most of his life outdoors. Simon Ashworth and John had known each other for a long, long time. And in time Mr. Ashworth came to be known by his nickname as ‘Ash’.

Ash or Simon, had grown up on a busy farm, and was expected to chip in into the daily family work. That meant 5am starts and things like handling the animals, cleaning out the stables and helping his dad out in the tractor ploughing the fields. It was all round tough work, long hard hours, ground out every day of the week. He hated it and it was tiring but it certainly built up character. Ash became a man who could be trusted and was a ‘proper man’ according to John; reliable in difficult situations; and so it was with their friendship.

As John took the book, his age made little matter to his strength or their friendship. John was a fit man, even at the ripe old age of 65 and as his hair hadn’t greyed that much, he looked much younger. He handled the weighty book as if it were an ice cream cone for inspection.

pause

The book was large and thick, perfectly aged around the rim and was encased in a leather binding he hadn’t seen before. ‘

‘Cow or pig skin?’ he wasn’t so sure.

He drew a thumb across the dark binding. On the front cover there was the symbol of the three trinity; he recognized that; the father; the son; and the Holy Spirit, but the book didn’t appear to be religious due to the other strange darker symbols etched onto all sides of it. The book was fixed shut and there was a lock on the front which made John frown. ‘Never have I seen a book like this before!’ He thought. ‘Feels more like a weapon!’

’Don’t worry, I’ve got the key for you John.’ came a female voice - It was Jayne. ‘We wanted to wait for you to open it.’

Her dark hair was tied up into a tidy top knot, which was unusual for ladies of her age, in this time. Every girl preferred their hair down these days, even the flight attendants. The rest of her was a striking blue; blue blouse; blue skirt, and they fitted her shapely figure. But as she liked collecting interesting things, a gold enameled brooch was pinned on her heart, shaped as a guitar: a souvenir bought in Spain last year and a symbol of her playing days at university. He could see why Simon married her.

Her dark black summit boots crunched on the ground as she approached the two men, even if she was as light as a moon beam strobe that lit across a quiet English field.

’Keep a hold of the key for now, Jayne,’ directed John. ‘We’ll take a look at the contents of the book in a little bit. Let me have a look at the rest of the book first.’ John peered at the title on the cover through his glasses and it read: ‘The book of the wolf’s way.’

‘What could it mean?’ wondered John. ‘I wonder what’s in it?’

’Could be a map - it says the wolf’s way.’ suggested John.

‘Look at this symbol here, that looks something more sinister. Perhaps this book belonged to the count?’ joked Ash.

’Where are on earth did you dig it up?’ asked John.

‘I found it in one of the crypts below the castle, while I was routing around the place.’ said Jayne.

’We need to handle this book with great care,’ said John. ‘If it did belong to him, it could still be of dark magic.’

’Don’t be silly…you men…always so dramatic!’ said Jayne.

They all laughed. ‘Let’s lighten up a bit then. Do you have any coffee left Simon?’ asked the archeologist, with an instinctual lick of the lips. ‘In that metal flask you brought?’

’After coffee you can pass me the key Jayne and we’ll open it together.’

Pause

‘So it’s 8.30 in the evening now,’ said Ash as he glanced at his 1950s seiko strapped in brown leather tight to his thick right wrist. Curiously enough, John noticed his friend always wore the watch on outings.

‘We should think about bedding down for the night.’

’It’s going to be tough to get down to the forest down there in time - we have around half an hour of daylight left.’ said Jayne as she took out a bottle of water from her North face backpack. ‘I don’t think I have the energy.’

’Where’s all that Virgo energy gone?’ teased Ash.

’Well I’d like a take a look at the book…’ interluded John, thinking for a second. ‘We’re hardy enough campers - let’s stay in the chapel.’

The Ashworths looked at each other: ‘Are you serious?’

’I think I am,’ said John.

It was crazy and wild enough to tempt them (John knew that) and they couldn’t think of anything better.

’Okay let’s do it.’ said the Ashworths, almost in unison.

’Plus we’ll be right by the entrance of the castle, so we can head straight in, in the morning.’