The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI #5)(67)
Napoléon looked him up and down. “Look at you, your hair’s as white as snow, your beard nearly touches your bony knees, and your eyes are filmed to near blindness. You are so old, how can you remember a single song? A single tale?”
The old man said in a strong, firm voice, “Ah, but I do, sire, I have a grand tale for you.”
Napoléon nodded to one of his generals, who threw the old man several coins. “I do not wish to hear the usual swill of a fair damsel and a valiant warrior, bard. I want something dark, something to make my belly tight. I will give you another coin if you please me.”
The old man nodded and began, his voice strong and loud, reaching every corner of the great hall. “Sire, what I will tell you is true. It is about two brothers who lived not the normal life span allotted to most men, but for hundreds of years, perhaps more. They lived here, in this very castle, for a time.
“The brothers were born on the same night, arms linked together, in a shared caul. From birth, one was strong, and one was weak. The strong one loved his brother very much and would do anything for him, carrying him to the woods, saving the finest bits of meat from their suppers for him.
“One day, the strong brother went into the woods to hunt, hoping to kill something to please his brother when a great storm blew up. He was separated from his friends, forced to light a fire under a great oak tree and cook a squirrel from his game bag.
“A great falcon came down from the skies and ripped the dead squirrel from his hand. The brother called after the bird, ‘Please don’t go. I’m lost and hungry. I’ll share the squirrel with you.’
“And the great bird wheeled around and returned, dropping the squirrel at his feet. True to his word, he cut the squirrel in half, giving the bird the slightly larger piece. It was then the brother realized he could hear the bird’s thoughts.
“?‘Thank you for your kindness. I will share one with you, as well. I know of a cure for your brother. Spill my blood in a cup and give it to him to drink at the full of the moon.’
“The brother drew back, horrified. ‘I cannot kill you. You shared your meal with me.’
“The falcon thought to him, ‘You must trust me. Bring me back to your home, and when the time is nigh, spill my blood. Your brother will drink and be cured.’
“The falcon showed the brother the way home. And remained, a friend to both brothers, and they could hear the falcon’s thoughts, the falcon theirs.
“Moon cycle after moon cycle passed without the brother honoring his promise. Finally, on the third full moon, the bird thought to him, ‘You must kill me this night, or the cure will no longer work.’
“The weak brother, who by this time was barely able to move, heard the falcon. ‘Please, no, Brother. I do not want to lose our friend.’
“But the stronger had promised, and he knew his brother would die if he didn’t. So, when the moon was full, the falcon presented his neck, and the brother sliced it open, catching the ruby blood in a pewter cup. He gave the drink to his brother. He drank it down. The two brothers mourned the bird, buried it, and slept. In the morning, the weak brother was strong.
“He bowed to his brother. ‘I have long wanted a human body to live in. Thank you.’ And the stronger brother saw that his brother’s eyes now glowed red. And he realized his brother had spoken in the falcon’s strange tongue.
“?‘What do you mean? What evil is this, to possess the body of a bird, and now of my brother?’
“?‘A priest banished me into the body of a falcon many years ago. I did not sleep, and blood was my only succor. Ah, it feels good to walk again.’ He left the castle but returned a few hours later. He showed the brother a sheaf of strange pages. ‘Now, I need your help.’
“The stronger brother had no choice but to comply, for he still loved his brother, though he knew this was unnatural and wrong.
“?‘You must bring me a virgin before nightfall. I must drink her blood. Only then will I have the strength to live through the night.’
“He brought his brother a virgin from the village, and the next night another, until the village was emptied. He grew strong, and soon, the two were feared throughout the land. They fled to a dark castle, deep in a forest. It is said they experimented with many things, with blood and herbs and silver, to find a way to make themselves live forever. Did they succeed? I do not know.”
Napoléon rose to his feet. “Bah. Blood drinking and talking crows. Ridiculous. Off with you.”
The old bard cackled a laugh, then leaned in and whispered to Napoléon, “It was a falcon, sire, not a crow. One truth I do know: the brothers brought the magic pages they used to divine this spell back here to Gradara. This is where a sainted ancestor found them, many years ago. They are mine now, though I do not understand them. But as I said, the brothers understood them very well.”
“I don’t believe you. Show me these pages.”
The old man pulled the pages from inside his shirt. Napoléon grabbed them, but he couldn’t read the pages—all he saw were strange symbols and writing, and puzzling drawings that baffled him, the red and green ink still vibrant. What did it mean? And then he knew. The pages were magic. They would give him the power to defeat the Russian czar. It mattered not he couldn’t read them.
Napoléon said to the old bard, “These pages were ripped from a book. Where is the book?”