So far the letter contained nothing more than references to Philippe’s political machinations.
“As for the other matter,” Godfrey continued,
I have found Benjamin Ben-Gabriel as the Jews call him, or Benjamin Fuchs as the emperor knows him, or Benjamin the Blessed as he prefers. He is in the east as you feared, moving between the emperor’s court, the Báthory, the , and His Imperial Majesty in Constantinople. There are worrying tales of Benjamin’s relationship with Countess Erzsébet, which, if circulated more widely, will result in Congregation inquiries detrimental to the family and those we hold dear.
Matthew’s term on the Congregation is near an end, as he will have served his half century. If you will not involve him in business that so directly concerns him and his bloodline, then I beg you to see to it yourself or to send some trusted person to Hungary with all speed.
In addition to the tales of excess and murder with Countess Erzsébet, the Jews of Prague similarly speak of the terror Benjamin caused in their district, when he threatened their beloved rabbi and a witch from Chelm. Now there are impossible tales of an enchanted creature made of clay who roams the streets protecting the Jews from those who would feast on their blood. The Jews say Benjamin seeks another witch as well, an Englishwoman who they claim was last seen with Ysabeau’s son. But this cannot be true, for Matthew is in England and would never lower himself to associate with a witch.
Matthew’s breath hissed from between tight lips.
Perhaps they confuse the English witch with the English daemon Edward Kelley, whom Benjamin visited in the emperor’s palace in May. According to your friend Joris Hoefnagel, Kelley was placed in Benjamin’s custody a few weeks later after he was accused of murdering one of the emperor’s servants. Benjamin took him to a castle in , where Kelley tried to escape and nearly died.
There is one more piece of intelligence I must share with you, Father, though I hesitate to do so, for it may be nothing more than the stuff of fantasy and fear. According to my informants, Gerbert was in Hungary with the countess and Benjamin. The witches of Pozsony have complained formally to the Congregation about women who have been taken and tortured by these three infamous creatures. One witch escaped and before death took her was able only to say these words: “They search within us for the Book of Life.”
Matthew remembered the horrifying image of Diana’s parents, split open from throat to groin.
These dark matters put the family in too much danger. Gerbert cannot be allowed to fascinate Benjamin with the power that witches have, as he has been. Matthew’s son must be kept away from Erzsébet Báthory, lest your mate’s secret be discovered. And we must not let the witches pursue the Book of Life any further. You will know how best to achieve these ends, whether by seeing to them yourself or by summoning the brotherhood.
I remain your humble servant and entrust your soul to God in the hope that He will see us safe together so we might speak more of these matters than present circumstances make wise.
Your loving son, Godfrey
From the Confrérie, Paris, this 20th day of December 1591
Matthew folded the letter carefully.
At last he had some idea where to look. He would go to Central Europe and search for Benjamin himself.
But first he had to tell Diana what he’d learned. He had kept the news of Benjamin from her as long as he could.
* * *
The babies’ first Christmas was as loving and festive as anyone could wish. With eight vampires, two witches, one human vampire-in-waiting, and three dogs in attendance, it was also lively.
Matthew showed off the half dozen strands of gray hair that had resulted from my Christmas spell and explained happily that every year I’d give him more. I had asked for a six-slice toaster, which I had received, along with a beautiful antique pen inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl. Ysabeau criticized these gifts as insufficiently romantic for a couple so recently wed, but I didn’t need more jewelry, had no interest in traveling, and wasn’t interested in clothes. A toaster suited me to the ground.
Phoebe had encouraged the entire family to think of gifts that were handmade or hand-me-down, which struck us all as both meaningful and practical. Jack modeled the sweater Marthe had knit for him and the cuff links from his grandmother that had once belonged to Philippe. Phoebe wore a pair of glittering emeralds in her ears that I’d assumed had come from Marcus until she blushed furiously and explained that Marcus had given her something handmade, which she had left at Sept-Tours for safety’s sake. Given her color, I decided not to inquire further. Sarah and Ysabeau were pleased with the photo albums we’d presented that documented the twins’ first month of life.
Then the ponies arrived.
“Philip and Rebecca must ride, of course,” Ysabeau said as though this were self-evident. She supervised as her groom, Georges, led two small horses off the trailer. “This way they can grow accustomed to the horses before you put them in the saddle.” I suspected she and I might have different ideas on how soon that blessed day might occur.
“They are Paso Finos,” Ysabeau continued. “I thought an Andalusian like yours might be too much for a beginner. Phoebe said we are supposed to give hand-it-overs, but I have never been a slave to principle.”
Georges led a third animal from the trailer: Rakasa.
“Diana’s been asking for a pony since she could talk. Now she’s finally got one,” Sarah said. When Rakasa decided to investigate her pockets for anything interesting such as apples or peppermints, Sarah jumped away. “Horses have big teeth, don’t they?”
“Perhaps Diana will have better luck teaching her manners than I did,” Ysabeau said.
“Here, give her to me,” Jack said, taking the horse’s lead rope. Rakasa followed him, docile as a lamb.
“I thought you were a city boy,” Sarah called after him.
“My first job—well, my first honest job—was taking care of gentlemen’s horses at the Cardinal’s Hat,” Jack said. “You forget, Granny Sarah, cities used to be full of horses. Pigs, too. And their sh—”
“Where there’s livestock, there’s that,” Marcus said before Jack could finish. The young Paso Fino he was holding had already proved his point. “You’ve got the other one, sweetheart?”
Phoebe nodded, completely at ease with her equine charge. She and Marcus followed Jack to the stables.
“The little mare, Rosita, has established herself as head of the herd,” Ysabeau said. “I would have brought Balthasar, too, but as Rosita brings out his amorous side I’ve left him at Sept-Tours—for now.” The idea that Matthew’s enormous stallion would try to act upon his intentions with a horse as small as Rosita was inconceivable.
We were sitting in the library after dinner, surrounded by the remains of Philippe de Clermont’s long life, a fire crackling in the stone fireplace, when Jack stood and went to Matthew’s side.