rest; you might as well have died at my own hand.’
“She placed her hand upon his, expecting him to pull away at her cool touch, but he did not; instead, he wrapped his fingers around hers. His warm fingers—she could feel the blood pulsing through them, and it aroused something within her. ‘I missed you so,’ she said. He smiled at her. ‘And I missed you, too, more than you could possibly know. I thought more than once about climbing to the top of that castle and joining you on the rocks below. Had I known it would place me by your side once again, I would have surely jumped, but there was no way to be certain. I am weak, and I hesitated, and I have done nothing since but spend my nights on this porch waiting for you to find me.’
“For the longest time, she did nothing but watch him, their hands intertwined. A tear slipped from her eye, a drop of crimson. He wiped it away and fought back tears of his own. She was so happy to be back in his arms that she did not see him pick up the metal blade from beside the bench, nor did she notice the hammer he had placed there beside it months earlier. With one quick motion, he pressed the sharp blade deep into her breast. She fell back in awe as he raised the hammer above his head and brought it down with all his strength, sending the steel through her heart with such force it embedded in the frame of the bench. A moment later, it was over, her body was still, and he wept until the morning light crept over the forest.
“He buried her for the second time on a little plot of land to the south of his cabin under an old willow tree. This time he took care to stack rocks high upon her grave—rocks he topped with a fresh white rose each night for the year that followed, hoping they would be together one day, but taking solace in the fact that she finally slumbered in peace.”
* * *
? ? ?
WHEN VAMBéRY looked up from the book, the four of us were silent. It was Matilda who spoke first. “That is the saddest story I have ever heard.”
Vambéry turned to the last page. “There is a bit more.”
His gaze remained fixed on the final words, and at first, he said nothing. I know now he hesitated because he was unsure of whether he should tell us, knowing it would lead to more questions. When finally he spoke, he did so with reservation. “It says—
* * *
? ? ?
“SHE AWOKE FROM DEATH for a second time three years later, her tired eyes peering into the gloom of what could only be the inner walls of a castle, a room so similar to the one her evil husband had locked her in that for a moment she thought all of this had been nothing but a dream and she was back in that dreadful place. Then she saw him; she saw this man bending over her. He held a rabbit by the leg over her, the neck sliced open and blood flowing freely from the wound to her mouth. She tasted every sweet morsel of it; she could feel it racing through her body, awakening limbs and muscle and tissue.
“‘How can this be?’ she said in a hoarse voice.
“The man said nothing at first, just gripped the rabbit, his free hand squeezing the carcass to release every last drop of blood. When he did speak, she found his voice to be deep and rich, but thick with an accent she could not quite place. ‘I have woken you from a deep sleep. I have brought you back to life.’
“I have recorded these words as I remember them to be.
“Countess Dolingen von Gratz, 12 October 1654.”
* * *
? ? ?
WHEN HE FINISHED READING, Vambéry slid the book to the center of the table, still open to that last page. Nanna Ellen’s handwriting stared back at us from the yellowed paper.
He rang the bell for the servant and this time ordered a bottle of brandy. Matilda refused to