He coughs painfully. "It is where magic was first invented."
"By your duke?"
"Yes."
"Why did you stay with him in Persida?"
Dante struggles. "I had to."
"Why?" I insist. "Did he use magic on you?"
He bursts with memories. "Yes! He called forth the great serpent! The living Satan! He invoked it in pain and blood and it poured forth from his navel. I saw it again, the snakeit grew from his intestines and screeched when it saw the light of the world. He poisoned my soul with its filthy powers, and then he poisoned my body."
"That's when you started to get sick?"
He calms down, so sad. "Yes. In Persida, where magic lived, I began to die."
"Why did he make you sick?"
"For his pleasure."
"But you were a loyal subject?"
More tears. "He did not care. It pleased him to see me eaten away."
I want him to go on. "What did he do next?"
"He went to Kalot Enbolot. That is the door to Sicily. He has a castle there. It was given to him by the Holy Father. He wanted to open the door to the heathens."
"To let the Moslems overrun the Christian world through Sicily?"
"Yes."
"And it was there he took up the nameL andulf?"
"Lord Landulf of Capua."
"How did he slay his knights? At the castle?"
"He made them slay one another. The demons summoned by the sacrifices always demand betrayal."
"You keep saying he invoked demons, that he summoned them. What proof do you have of this other than the snakes you thought you saw?"
"I did see them!"
"Fine. But what was Landulf able to do with these demons?"
"He used them to torture men. To control their wills." Dante stops and glances away from the fire, into the dark, and his whole body shakes. "Distance does not matter with these demons. They can cross water and bring death. In the fair land of England, my duke boasted, knights in search of the Holy Grail wander lost because of the spells he cast over them. They will never find the Grail, he said. Forever, they will be lost."
I was familiar with this mystical quest. But it was hard for me to imagine that Landulf had a hand in it. "Why does he bother with these knights?" I ask.
Dante speaks with pride. "Because they are righteous, and the light of God shines before them."
"But you say Landulf is stronger than they are?"
Dante hangs his head, as if ashamed. "I am afraid that he is the strongest."
"But you are a Christian. Your Lord Jesus Christ says no demon can stand before the name of Christ."
Dante continues, dejected, "Landulf cannot be defeated."
"Surely he is not all powerful. You escaped from him. How did you manage to do that?"
But Dante shakes his head. "I did not escape. He sent me away."
"Why?"
Dante looks me straight in the eye, and I believe my power has finally failed. He is no longer in a trance, but he is still frightened, more so than everterrified of what he has already told me, what I may do with the knowledge.
"My lady, he told me to find him an immortal ruby beyond all worth. And bring her back to him."
An immortal ruby? My vampiric blood?
It sounds as if Landulf of Capua already knows about me.
That is fair. I intend to know a lot more about him.
I will go to his castle, I decide.
Dante will lead me to the black wizard.
9
It takes a week to walk toL andulf's aerie, which stands in the heights of Monte Castello, in southwest Sicily, where, Dante tells me, the Oracle of Venus, the Goddess of Love, once stood. Dante knows a tremendous amount of Roman and Greek history and mythology. He is much more educated than I would have guessed. I begin to understand that one of the reasonsL andulf kept him around was because of his powerful story-telling abilities. Even the evil duke loved a good tale, and when Dante starts on a story, his whole demeanor changes, as if he were hypnotized, and he speaks with great eloquence. But the moment the tale is over, he reverts. The sudden personality changes are disconcerting, but I am sympathetic to him because he has obviously been warped by his exposure to Landulf. I feel guilty that I am manipulating him further. Only by dominating him with my eyes, by soothing him several times a day, am I able to persuade him to lead the way to the castle. The thought of the place fills him with dread and he must be wondering that his legs continue to carry him in that direction.
Yet he doesn't seem to wonder about me. His affection for me is genuine; it pains me to use him so. And it is obvious that he is more concerned about me than about himself. When my influence on him wanes, he begs me to turn back. The human sacrifices he tells me about as being commonplace at the castle fill me with doubt. It is hard to believe there could exist such evil as he describes. Of course that is Dante's point. Landulf is no longer human. He has become a beast he invoked. The devil lives and breathes on a peak once considered sacred in ancient Rome. Before resting each night, Dante recites the entire mass in Latin, praying to a small copper cross he hides during the day in the wooden brace that supports his leper's stump. At night I see him scratching at his sores, and his suffering weighs on my heart. Only a devil, I think, could have cursed him so.
Yet I still do not believe in his Christian demons.
But what draws me to meet Landulf is the chance to witness his magic, whether it be white or black.
AlthoughI know for a fact it will be black, that I havevisited the cruel wizard already. But what I rememberofthe future grows more abstract with each passingday .The dirt paths of old Sicily are my only guides. IrememberAlanda's name but I cannot imagine herface.At night, though, I stare for hours at the stars, trying to convince myself that I was once there, in a mysterious ship, with creatures from another world.
And perhaps with the gods of ancient myths.
Dante wants to tell me about Perseus as we walk.
I am familiar with the mythology, of course, having lived in ancient Greece for many years. But Dante insists I have not heard it properly, and it seems to be one of his favorite stories, so I let him speak. But talking as he walks is a luxury Dante can ill afford. Often he must stop to lean on me for support, but now he is remarkably energetic. He has found a stout walking stick that helps him walk as he speaks with loving enthusiasm about the ancient hero. Obviously Dante worships such characters, and wishes he were one, instead of the crippled leper he is. A handsome young god who could sweep away a beautiful princess such as me. I know Dante is more than a little in love with me.