NEMESIS

NEMESIS

Beyond the castle walls, the wind raged violently, the heavy falling snow unable to withstand its great force as it was swept north against its natural flow. The country all around, bleak and desolate, was blanketed in a coat of white that helped disguise its normal barrenness.

Would he come? The Earl paced nervously in front of the enormous fireplace that blasted out its heat to counter the freezing air that entered through the windowless balistraria; the vaulted ceilings of this great hall towering high above the lone occupier, the main beneficiary of any warmth. At each strange noise from beyond the castle walls, the nobleman would drop his aristocratic air and rush clumsily and awkwardly to a window, his ancient body no longer able to keep pace with his still flourishing brain.

Each time, he would return to the fireside disappointed. So, perhaps, it was not meant to be, he thought. I expected too much.

But hark! That sound, vying with the screeching of the wind. Can it be? Back, once more, to the arrow slit. Yes! Unmistakably, the noise of carriage wheels grinding noisily, despite the snow, on the granite road up to the castle. His eyes, stung by the wintry needles of snow, he stared out nevertheless until, finally, the coach reached the summit of the road and entered into the courtyard below. He had come!

Anxiously, he resumed his pacing, waiting to hear the great timber doors below creak open and his guest enter the citadel and begin his ascent to this great hall. The old aristocrat felt his damaged heart pound with expectation as his sharply pointed ears listened intently. There it was! The creaking of the oaken doors, the heavy clunk as they closed upon their visitor. The sound of footsteps echoing as the Earl’s invited guest climbed the great staircase, walked along the stone flags of the corridor and entered the great hall, pausing at the threshold, unsure of what to expect.

“You came, Professor”.

“Did I have a choice?” This reply spoken in a guttural, accented voice.

“No, I suppose not. Choice is not something that is readily available to any of us, these days”.

Apart from the light thrown out by the fire, the only other luminescence came from the two long candles mounted on six foot tall metal candle holders standing in the foreground. They showed this newcomer to be a man of medium height, strongly built with a broad, deep chest. Aged circa 60 years old, unusually, for these times, he was clean shaven, displaying a hard, square chin. His eyes were of the deepest blue and his long, reddish hair was streaked through with grey.

“You look remarkably well under the circumstances, Professor”.

Still standing upon the brink of the entranceway, the visitor peered into the murkiness, assessing his host cautiously before answering.

“Which is more, I am glad to say, than can be said for you”.

The Earl grimaced at this jibe, displaying his brownish yellow decaying teeth.

“Touche! You have not lost your wit, I see. But, please, come in. Take a seat, I beg of you”.

“Why am I here?” the Professor demanded.

The Earl sat in a wooden armchair on the far side of the fireplace and indicated for the newcomer to enter and take an identical chair opposite.

“It is a fiercely cold night. Come, warm yourself and I shall explain”.

Somewhat reluctantly, but piqued by curiosity, the Professor approached slowly, his eyes searching the shadows for any danger. Finally, he took his place, facing the aristocrat.

“Thank you, Professor. You are in no danger though I understand, only too well, your fears. For too long we have been enemies and now...now I present no threat to you and you offer no imperilment to myself. So, I asked myself, why can we two not bury our differences and become friends...”

“Friends? Mein Gott! I become a friend of yours? You cannot be serious”.

The Professor stood abruptly, outraged at this suggestion. Looking down upon his host, the firelight illuminating the Earl’s face more clearly, he saw that his old enemy was much changed, smaller, almost shrunken, more insignificant. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin a deathly pallor. Only, it seemed, his long, grey moustache remained unaltered. Yet, despite the marks of time, his aristocratic bearing remained intact and he spoke eloquently in perfect English without a trace of an accent.

“Calm yourself, my dear Professor, I pray. Hear me out at least”.

Reluctantly, the visitor sat once more.

“It was fate that decreed we should be enemies and one cannot dispute with fate. Alas, I know that only too well. But you meant me harm, Herr Professor. Was I wrong to defend myself by opposing you? Of course not. Just as you felt that I represented danger to you and your young friends so you had no choice other than to conspire against me. Yet, despite everything, I felt nothing but a deep respect for you. You were a man after my own heart. after all. Erudite, brave, not only a professor but a lawyer, a physician, a philosopher, a scientist. Here, I thought, is an exceptional Dutch man; one I would be glad to call my friend...under different circumstances. Surely, if you are honest, you will admit to feeling some small sense of admiration for me, too?”

The visitor sat quietly, considering this objectively. As he thought, his angry countenance slowly began to soften.

“I will admit that, for my part, I felt, almost...envy. There, I have owned to it. I envied you your ancestry, your lineage. You had seen things, experienced things...things I could only read about. You were wealthy, handsome, charismatic, you came from the Boyar line; one of heroism, honour and valour. You, yourself, were a soldier, a statesman, an alchemist. You had everything. Of course, I admired you but...”

“But what, Herr Professor?”

“But, you became corrupted, Count”.

“Oh, please. If you must use my royal appendage, I prefer the anglicised version; Earl”

“Count, Earl, it does not matter. You betrayed your ancestry, abused your great gifts, used your intelligence for the forces of evil. You became cunning...”

“Enough! Do you not understand? You with your vast experiences in medicine? Do you curse the poor soul who, so badly wounded in battle, is in such pain that only morphine can bring him peace, only for the drug itself to take over his life and control his every thought, every act?”

“Of course not. I would help such addictions. I...”

“Well, can you not see that I was such a man? I, condemned to an eternal addiction, Herr Professor. Where was your compassion for me? You condemned me, hunted me down...”

“I...I had never thought of it like that before. You mean that you could not help yourself; that you would have chosen a different path if...”

“Yes. If only somebody, anybody, you, Herr Professor, had tried to cure me instead of condemning me. Do you think, for one moment, that I loved my twilight life, living in darkness, seeking, needing blood just to exist? No, Herr Professor, I was in agony; eternal torment!. I yearned for death”.

“Mein Gott! I had no idea. Why did I not think to view the problem like that. I am not an unmerciful man, I assure you. After all, I took a Hippocratic oath. Dear Gott! If I have misjudged you so then it is I who is the monster, not you”.

“You had lost your beloved son, Professor. Your poor wife lost her mind through grief yet, even though she was committed to an asylum, you never abandoned her. This I know. This I made it my business to find out. You are a good man, Abraham... I apologise. May I call you Abraham?”

Professor Van Helsing, consumed with his thoughts, dwelling on his past actions, his mistaken viewpoint, nodded mutely.

“Abraham, you did what you felt necessary to protect your friends. As I said, we cannot interfere with fate. Your friends found me. One stabbed me in the heart; the other decapitated me”.

As he spoke, the Earl opened up his brilliant white shirt displaying the huge scar to his chest, the stitches circumnavigating his trachea.

“They ended my hell. Now, here I am in purgatory”.

Van Helsing turned his head sideways towards the fire, exposing the hole left by the bullet that he had ended his life with, unable to continue on after the death of his beloved wife.

“And here you are, you see, Abraham. Your mortal suffering, too, is over. Neither of us is a danger to the other anymore. We are intelligent people with so many shared experiences, so much in common and more to learn from each other, hence my summons as soon as I heard of your demise. Is it not feasible that we could put aside our old differences and become friends?”

Abraham Van Helsing nodded once again.

“Yes. Let us be friends but only if I, too, can address you by your given name, not by any royal appendage”

Count Dracula looked across at his old acquaintance and smiled gratefully.

“Very well, Abraham. Call me Vlad!”