Chapter 63 Chapter 62

In my years of research, writing, and thinking, few epiphanies have brought me as much as when Helen uttered her conjectures aloud in the library at Leela.Of course, a headless vampire wouldn't pose much of a threat—a vampire that couldn't drink blood would be ridiculous—but the friars panicked enough that the Abbot decided to give Dracula a proper Christian funeral elsewhere.The dean probably couldn't bear to see his king decapitated.Who knew what promise he had made to Dracula beforehand? "A strange image floated into my head: Topkapi Palace in Istanbul - where I was strolling on a sunny morning not long ago - with the Ottoman executioners displaying the Sultan's enemies on its gates head.

"Our companions seem to have a similar picture in mind. Once we are sure that Brother Lumen has left, Stoichev whispers: 'Yes, it is quite possible. But the Brothers of Panakratos How can Dracula's head be stolen from the Sultan's palace? Stefan mentions in his story that it is indeed a treasure." "Then how did we get the visa to enter Bulgaria?" Helen raised her eyebrows and asked. "Bribes—big bribes," I mused. "Our guidebook to Istanbul says that the heads of the Sultan's enemies are thrown into the Bosphorus after being shown for a while. Perhaps from Pana Someone from Kratos took the head in the process - it's safer than stealing it from the palace gates."

"It is impossible for us to know the truth about this," said Stoichev, "but I think Miss Rossi's guess is quite reasonable. It is most likely his head that they are looking for in Saliglade." , and it makes a lot of religious sense to do so. Our Orthodox belief is that people die as whole as possible — we don’t have cremation — because on Judgment Day we will be reborn from the body.” "But the bones of those saints are scattered around, what's going on?" I asked suspiciously. "How can they be fully regenerated?" Stoichev laughed. "Saints have privileges," he said, "but Vlad Dracula, although he killed countless Turks, was certainly not a saint.In fact, Eupalatius was very worried about his immortality, at least that's what Stefan's story says. "

"Or worry about his body's immortality," Helen pointed out. "It seems so," I said, "perhaps the monks of Panakratos risked their lives by taking his head to give him a proper funeral. The guards discovered the theft and began searched, and the abbot sent the head out of Istanbul instead of burying it there. Perhaps from time to time pilgrims go to Bulgaria”—to make sure I was right, I glanced at Stoichev—“for the burial, they took It was sent to - er, Sveti Georgi, or any other monastery in Bulgaria with which they were connected. The monks from Snagov also arrived, but it was too late to bring the head to the body The abbot of Panakratos talked to them when he knew about it. The monks of Snagov decided to follow them with their bodies to complete their mission. Besides, they had to pay attention in the Guards Get out of that damn place before we get to them." Good guess," Stoichev gave me a lovely smile, "I said we can't be sure because these events are only hinted at in the literature.But your vision is convincing.Looks like we dragged you away from the Dutch merchant anyway. "I felt myself blushing, half from pleasure, half from embarrassment.

"Later, because of the appearance and departure of Brother Snagov, the whole country of Turkey was vigilant." - Helen continued the story I just said - 'Maybe they searched the monastery and found that the monks stayed in St. Irene , So they informed the officials of the monks' travel route, perhaps first to Edirne, and then to Haskovo.Haskovo was the first big town the monks entered Bulgaria, and there they were—what's that word? — Detention. "Yes," Stoichev continued, "the Turkish officials tortured two of them for information, but the two brave monks said nothing. The officials searched the carriage and found only food. That's it. That leaves a question—why didn't the Turkish soldiers find a body?" I hesitated, "maybe they weren't looking for a body, maybe they were looking for a head. If the Janissaries knew very little about the whole situation in Istanbul, they It might be thought that the Snagov monks transported the heads." Or they made a special place to hide the corpses when they built the carriage," Helen thought.

"But corpses stink," I reminded her bluntly. "It depends on what you believe," she said, giving me a wry, charming smile. "What do I believe in?" "You see, in Eastern Europe, if the villagers suspect vampires, they traditionally exhume the body to check for corruption. Even now, it sometimes does." Stoichev shuddered. "An odd practice "Helen shrugged slightly, "Is it more superstitious to hope for the regeneration of the body?" She asked, but said to Stoichev with a smile, and he was also fascinated by her smile. "Ma'am," he said, "we have different understandings of our cultural heritage, but I admire your agility. Now, my friends, I wish to take a moment to study your maps." At this time, Ranov came in again.I hope he didn't hear us mention the map.

Stoichev cleared his throat. "Maybe you want to go into the church and see how beautiful it is." He gave Ranov a slight glance.Helen immediately stood up, walked towards Ranov, and entangled him.I took the opportunity to carefully pull the copied map out of my briefcase. Unfortunately, though I'd love to have him dismissed.But Ranov seemed to prefer hanging around Stoichev while he was working, chatting with the librarian more than listening to our conversation, "Can you get me a meal?" I ask him.The administrator stood there without saying a word, looking at me. Ranov smiled, "Are you hungry? It's not time for dinner yet. Unfortunately, we have to have dinner with the monks." Helen followed me to the door and squeezed my hand, "Let's go to the meeting How's Erbu?" she said as soon as we were outside the door.

"I don't know what we're going to do without Ranov at this point," I said sullenly. "Without him, what are we talking about?" She smiled, "Should I go back and try to lure him away?" "No," I said, "better not to. The more eager we are, the more he doubts what Stoichev is looking at. He can't get rid of it like a fly." "He'd be a nice fly," said Helen, taking my hand. We came to the interior of the church and stopped in front of a portrait with a very serious face. The saint had a long white beard, his white hair was neatly parted, and he was covered with a halo, looking straight at us.

Helen read the words next to the halo: "Ivan Rilsky." "Is that the man whose remains were sent here eight years before our Wallachian friend entered Bulgaria? He is mentioned in the Chronicle." "Yes," Helen mused to the portrait.It seemed to her that if she stood there for a long time, the portrait would speak to her. The endless waiting made me nervous, "Helen," I said, "let's go for a walk. We can go over there and climb the mountains and see the scenery." "Okay," Helen agreed, "Ranov will never let us go far if it's not too far away."

The trail up the mountain goes through thick woods, and it's nice to be able to get away from Ranov for a few minutes. As we walked, I took Helen's hand and shook it back and forth, "Do you think it's difficult for him to decide whether to spy on us or Stoichev?" "Oh, no," Helen said bluntly, "he can't keep following us all alone. He has to watch Stoichev carefully to see where our research is going." "You're so serious," I said to her, peeking at her profile walking on the dirt road, "Knowing that I'm being watched, and growing up in such a ridiculous environment, it's unbelievable. "

Helen shrugged, "It's not that scary, because I didn't know the difference between monitoring and not monitoring before." "But then you want to leave your country and go to the West?" "Yes," she said, giving me a sideways look, "and then I wanted to leave my country." We sat on a fallen tree not far from the road to rest for a while, "I've been wondering why they let us into Bulgaria," I said to Helen.Even out in the woods like this, I lower my voice, "And why on earth would they let us wander around," She nodded. "Have you thought about that?" "The way I see it," I told her slowly, "is that it's easy for them to stop us, and they don't because they want us to find it." "Very well, Holmes." Helen patted my face. "Your knowledge has improved a lot." "So, let's assume they do know or suspect what we're looking for. Why would it be useful, or even possible, for them that Vlad Dracula isn't dead?" I lowered my voice. Almost in a whisper, but trying to say it as loud as possible, "You told me many times yourself that autocratic governments look down on peasant superstitions. Why don't they stop us, but encourage us to do so? Do they think that if We found his tomb here, how could they gain some kind of supernatural power to rule the people of Bulgaria?” Helen shook her head, "It won't be this. Their interest is definitely power-based, but always scientific in approach. And, if there's something interesting to discover, they're not going to let an American snatch it Honorable." She pondered for a moment, "Think about it—if it is discovered that the dead can be resurrected, or that the dead are not dead, then is there any more powerful scientific discovery? Especially the Eastern Bloc, whose great leaders have passed through Embalmed, lying in a grave?" The sallow face of Georgi Dimitrov lying in Sofia's mausoleum came to my mind. "This will give us even more reason to destroy Dracula." I said, but I felt sweat burst from the forehead. "I don't know," Helen added gloomily, "to what extent destroying him would change history. Think what Stalin did to his people, and Hitler. They don't have to live five hundred years to make a those things." "I know," I said, "I've thought about that, too." Helen nodded, "You know, it's strange that Stalin openly admired 'Ivan the Terrible'. Hitler went out of his way to repress and slaughter his own people in order to consolidate his power - by whatever means. You know 'Ivan the Terrible' appreciated Which one is it?" I feel my blood being drained. "You told me there are many stories about Dracula in Russia." "Yes, exactly." I stared at her dumbfounded. "Can you imagine a world where Stalin lived for five hundred years?" She scratched a fingernail at a soft spot in the wood, "Or maybe immortality?" I found myself clenching my fists, "You think we might find A medieval tomb and keep it from anyone?" "Difficult, maybe impossible. I'm sure they have people everywhere watching us." At this moment, a person appeared from the corner of the path, so suddenly, I was so surprised that I almost cursed out of my voice.But he looked ordinary, and was roughly dressed, with a bundle of firewood slung over his shoulder.He waved us and said hello and walked on.I looked at Helen. "See?" she said quietly. " When we got halfway up the mountain, we found a prominent cliff. "Look," said Helen, "let's sit here." "From here you can see how well-defended the place is. Just think how many times those enemies have looked down on it like this." "Or the pilgrims," ​​Helen reminded me, "for whom it's a spiritual home, not a military threat." She leaned back against the tree trunk, lost in thought. "Helen," I said, without grabbing her hand.I didn't want to speak, but couldn't help but say, "Helen, will you marry me?" She turned slowly towards me. "Paul," she said grimly, "how long have we known each other?" "Twenty-three days," I admitted.I realize now that if she said no, even if I wanted to jump off the cliff, I couldn't because we still had to find Rosie. "The time we have been together is so short, we come from completely different worlds." She smiled this time, as if she wanted to make her words more pleasant to her ears, "Besides, will you marry a woman with the mark of the devil?" "I will protect you from any demons near you." "Isn't that a burden? How are we going to have children?"—her eyes were straight and determined—"We know they can be inherited." My throat was choked, and I forced out a sentence, "Then your answer is no, or should I ask you another time?" Helen glanced at me seriously, "The answer is, of course I would like to marry you." After weeks of searching in vain for another one I loved so easily, I was too surprised to speak or kiss her. We cuddled together in silence, overlooking the reds and golds and grays of the vast monastery. "