The Vampyre (23 page)

‘Then suddenly, a flock of goats ran out in front of my path. I had smelled the shepherd's blood before I heard his cry; he came running past me, shouting after his goats, and he barely had time to give me more than a glance. I wheeled my horse round and followed him. Then the shepherd did pause and look back at me; I slid down from my saddle, and walking over to him, sought to trap him, as I had almost trapped the other man, with the power of my stare. The shepherd stood paralysed - then he wailed and fell down to his knees; he was an old man; I felt a terrible sorrow for him, as though it wasn't myself who was to be his murderer. I almost turned away; but then the moon came out from behind a cloud, and touched by its light, my thirst seemed to scream at me. I bit into the old man's throat; his skin was leathery, and I had to tear at it twice before the blood came pumping out. Its taste, though, was as rich as before, and the fullness it gave me even more violent and strange. I looked up from the husk of my prey, and saw anew how the moonlight was silver with life, and the silence haunted by beautiful sounds.

‘“Egad, sir, there is no law which states you must kill only in a cemetery.”

‘I glanced over my shoulder. Lovelace was sitting on a shattered column. Despite myself, I smiled. It was good, after so many weeks alone, to see a creature like myself.

‘Lovelace rose to his feet, and wandered over to me. He looked down at my kill. “The one you let go was handsomer.”

‘“He was English.”

‘Lovelace smiled. “Damn you, Byron, I never imagined it - a patriot.”

‘“Just the opposite. But I thought his absence would be noticed more readily.”

‘Lovelace shook his head mockingly. “If you say so,
milord
.” He paused. “But I thought he was a dull cod's head of a guide, for all that.”

‘I looked up at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

‘“Why, sir, I was watching you both all day. You were by the walls of the harem, and then you broke away. 'Tis like resting content with the merest glimpse of a strumpet's drawers.”

‘“Oh?”

‘Lovelace winked. “What lies inside,
milord
, that is the treasure.” His bright eyes glittered. “In the Turk's Seraglio, wait a thousand cagéd whores.”

‘I stared at him, a faint smile of disbelief on my lips. “You are offering to lead me into the Sultan's harem?”

‘Lovelace bowed. “Why naturally, sir.” He stroked my hand. “On a condition.”

‘“I thought there might be.”

‘“Your friend, Hobhouse . . .”

‘“No!” I interrupted with sudden fury. “And I warn you again . . .”

‘Lovelace swished contemptuously with his hand. “Sir, calm yourself, there are morsels here much daintier than your friend. But, Byron” - he smiled at me - “you must persuade him to leave for England at once.”

‘“Oh? Why?”

‘Lovelace reached out to stroke my hand again. “So that we may be alone together,” he said. “You will give yourself up to me, Byron, that I may teach you the arts.” He glanced down at the shepherd's corpse. “It seems to me you are in need of them.”

‘I stared at him. “Abandon Hobhouse?” I said at last. Lovelace nodded. Slowly, I shook my head. “Impossible.”

‘“I will show you the delights of the Seraglio.”

‘I shook my head again, and climbed up into my saddle. “You told me of a secret, Lovelace - a secret that would threaten all those dearest to me. Well, I defy it. I will not abandon Hobhouse. I will never abandon those I love.”

‘“Secret?” Lovelace seemed surprised by my mention of it. Then he smiled, as though remembering. “Oh, you need not worry,
milord
. It is not Hobhouse you threaten.”

‘“Then who?”

‘“Stay with me in the Orient, and I will teach you all I know.” His lips parted slightly. “So much pleasure, Byron. I know you are a man who delights in it.”

‘I stared at him with sudden contempt. “I know we are both killers,” I said, “but it does not give me any joy. I have told you before - I have no wish to be a creature like you. I have no wish to share in the knowledge you possess. I have no wish to be your pupil, Lovelace.” I inclined my head coldly. “And so - I bid you goodnight.”

‘I shook out the reins of my horse. I rode past the still graves. I rejoined the path by the city walls. The moon burned brightly, and lit my way.

‘“Byron!” I glanced round. “Byron!” Lovelace stood where I had left him, a thing of spectral beauty amongst the ivy-clad tombs. His golden hair seemed touched by fire, and his eyes blazed. “Byron,” he shouted with sudden ferocity, “I tell you - it is the way of things! Here, in these peaceful gardens, dogs gorge on their prey - the gentle birds must feed on the worms - there is nothing in nature but eternal destruction! You are a predator - no longer a man, no longer what you were. Do you not know, that the greater will always feed on the lesser?” Suddenly, he smiled. “Byron,” I heard him whisper in my mind, “we
shall
drink together.” I shivered, and my blood seemed turned to quicksilver, as brilliant as the moon. When I looked up for him, Lovelace had disappeared.

‘I did not see him again for three days. His words had disturbed me - and excited me too. I began to relish the splendour of what I had become. Hadn't Lovelace merely spoken the truth? - I
was
a fallen being, and it
was
a fearsome and romantic state. Hobhouse, who was as satanic as a kipper, began to infuriate me - we quarrelled endlessly and I started to wonder if we shouldn't separate after all. So when Hobhouse duly mentioned that he was thinking of returning home, I didn't discourage him - and neither did I pledge myself to doing the same. Yet the thought of what Lovelace's pleasures might be still filled me with dread - I was afraid, more than anything, that I might relish them, and find yet crueller desires awoken in me. So I reserved my opinion, and waited for Lovelace to approach me again. But all the while, I hoped, deep in my soul, that his temptations would be sufficient to encourage me to stay.

‘The day came for our audience with the Sultan. Twenty of us, all English, suffered this excruciating privilege - my guide of three days before was with us, and so also, arriving at the last moment, was Lovelace. He saw me with my guide, and smiled, but said nothing. He stood just behind me, though, as we waited in the Sultan's presence-chamber, and later, when the whole tedious affair was at an end, he hovered within earshot of Hobhouse and myself.

‘My guide came over to us, his eyes bright with excitement. “You had a signal effect on the Sultan,” he told me. I inclined my head politely. “Yes, yes, Byron,” he explained, “the splendour of your dress, and your striking appearance, made him single you out as a particular object of attention. Indeed . . .” - here, the man paused and giggled, then flushed.

‘“What is it?” Hobhouse asked.

‘The man giggled again, and turned back to me. He stammered, swallowed, and composed himself. “The Sultan said that you were not a man at all.”

‘My brow darkened, and I flushed cold; I glanced at Lovelace, who grinned back evilly. “Not a man,” I said slowly. “What did he mean?”

‘The man's blush grew even more purple. “Why, Byron,” he tittered, “the Sultan thought you were a woman dressed in man's clothes.” I breathed in deeply - then smiled with relief. My guide beamed eagerly. Lovelace's smile, I noticed, was the broadest of all.

‘He came to me later that night, when Hobhouse was asleep. We stood together, on the roof of my house, and bathed our faces in the light of the moon. Lovelace took out his dagger. He stroked its thin, cruel blade. “The Great Turk was a maggoty pimp, do you not think?” he asked.

‘“ Why?”

‘Lovelace bared his teeth. He tested his thumb on his dagger's edge. “To mistake you for a whore, of course.”

‘I shrugged. “Better that than to be recognised as what I am.”

‘“Why, sir, I would demand some revenge on him for his arrant impudence!”

‘I stared coldly into Lovelace's gleaming eyes. “I am not averse to people finding me beautiful.”

‘Lovelace grinned. “Are you not, sir?” he whispered. He turned, to gaze across the waters at the Seraglio, then slid his dagger back into his belt. “Are you not?”

‘He began to hum a tune from an opera. He bent down, and drew several bottles from a bag. He uncorked one. I smelled the golden perfume of blood. “The salubrious juice,” said Lovelace, handing the bottle to me. “I have mixed it with the finest Madeira known to man. Drink well, Byron, for tonight we need all our strength.” He raised a second bottle. “A toast.” He smiled at me. “To the rare sport we shall have tonight.”

‘We grew drunk on the cocktails of wine and blood. No - not drunk - but my senses seemed richer than they had ever been, and I felt a violent joy rise like fire in my blood. I leaned on the wall, and stared at the dome-haunted skyline of the ancient city; the stars behind the Seraglio seemed to blaze with the fierceness of my own eager cruelty, and I knew that Lovelace was winning my soul. He held me in his arms, humming an aria under his breath, then speaking in my ear. “You are a creature of great power,” he whispered. “Would you care to see what you are capable of ?” I smiled faintly. “It will drain you, Byron, but you have the strength for this - young though you are in experience and blood.”

‘I stared out at the waters of the Golden Horn. “We are going to cross naked air,” I whispered. Lovelace nodded. I frowned, realising how distant my memories had become. “In my dreams, long before, I followed the Pasha. He showed me the miracles of time and space.”

‘Lovelace grinned. “A pox on the miracles of time and space.” He glanced across at the Seraglio. “I want whores.”

‘I laughed, from the depths of my stomach, helplessly. I was exhausted by my laughter. Lovelace held me, stroking the curls of my hair. He pointed across to the Seraglio. “Look at it,” he whispered, “imprison an image of it within your eye. Make it yours. Make it rise and come to you.”

‘I stopped laughing abruptly. I stared into the cold depths of Lovelace's eyes - then did as he had said. I saw the sky bend. The minarets and domes seemed to flow like water. My brow felt the touch of the palace's kiss. “What's happening?” I whispered. “How am I doing this?”

‘Lovelace pressed a finger to my lips. He bent down for a final bottle, and uncorked it. “Yes, that's good,” he nodded, “breathe in its scent. Smell its richness. All your existence is contained within this. You are a creature of blood. You can flow like it out across the sky.” Suddenly he flung the bottle upwards, and I saw blood in a crimson arc spattered over the city and the stars. “Yes, flow with it!” Lovelace cried. I rose. I felt my disembodied self leave my flesh, like blood slipping from an open wound. The air was still thick. I was moving with it. Constantinople was stained, dark as the night, crimson as the blood I could hear summoning me. I saw it all, spinning, the city, the sea and the sky - and then suddenly, ahead, there was nothing but the Seraglio, distorted and disappearing from me, as though reflected in an endless series of mirrors, and I followed it, deep into the darkening heart of the vortex, and then I felt cool air on my face, and saw that I was standing on the harem wall.

‘I turned. My movements seemed strange. I walked, and it felt to me as though I were a breeze skimming a dark-watered lake.

‘“Byron.” The voice was a stone dropped into the depths. The two syllables rippled away. Lovelace smiled at me, and his face seemed to swim and change before my eyes. I imagined he was sinking beneath the lake's dark waters. The ghostly pallor of his face was dimmed; his body shrunk; it was as though he had the form of a negro dwarf. I laughed, and the sound in my brain was refracted and strange. “Byron.” I looked down again. Lovelace still had the shape of a dwarf. He smiled horribly, and his lips began to move. “I am the eunuch,” I heard him say, “you shall be the Sultan's slave.” He leered at me again, and I laughed drunkenly, but there were no ripples now, for the darkness was still like a crystal pool. Suddenly, conjured up from the whorls of my memory and desire, glimmering in the crystal, I saw Haidée. I gasped, and reached out to touch her. But the image spread, escaping me, and then I felt it lapping my skin, and I could no longer see Haidée, and everything seemed to be melting away. I placed my fingers over my eyes. The strangeness seemed even more bewitching than before. When I opened my eyes again, I saw that my nails were painted gold, and my fingers slim.

‘“Beautiful,” said the dwarf. He laughed, and pointed. “This way, lovely infidel maid.”

‘I followed him. Like the shadows of a storm, we passed through the harem gates. Long passages stretched away from us, rich in amethyst, and green and yellow faience. All was silent, save for the footfalls of black dwarfs guarding elaborate doors of gold. As we passed them, they would frown and look around, but they did not see us, until, outside the most beautiful gate of all, Lovelace drew his dagger and slashed its sentry's throat.

‘I pressed forwards eagerly at the smell of blood. Lovelace shook his head. “Why drink water when there's champagne inside?” He held me back, and his touch on my body was sweet and strange. I looked down. I saw the truth of what I had imagined to be a dream - my body was that of a beautiful girl. I touched my breasts; raised a slim arm to stroke my long hair. I felt no surprise, only the heightening of a cruel and erotic joy. I walked forwards, and for the first time was aware of the swirl of thin silk against my legs, and heard the tinkling rustle of ankle bells. I looked around me. I was in a spacious chamber. Couches were ranged along the wall. All was silent and dark. I began to glide past the couches down the centre of the hall.