Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 14: Out on the Empty Lie

It was damned unsettling, how quickly the young man staring at Avigeya had disappeared. He must have clocked Will looking at him before he even mentioned the stranger to Katarina.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked now.

Will described the tall, thin, auburn-haired young man to her, and how he was acting. "That is nobody who lives here," she said, and Will believed her. "I hope there isn't a thief about! We never have a problem with criminals."

At last, when the laden donkey's load was secured, and the shaggy beast had received his treat of sugar cubes, they were ready to depart. That was not to be, however, as the Count's solicitor had been inundated with lunch invitations. Before Will knew it, they were in one of the taverns, the tables rearranged to accommodate Will and the town council. Peter elected to head for home, so that the donkey could be unburdened, leaving Will and Avigeya to share a meal with Katarina and the town council. Will enjoyed the food — cabbage rolls, cold chicken, meat rolls, spring greens, and freshly fried doughnuts with soft cheese and fruit preserves for dessert.

What he did not enjoy was being the center of attention for a meal that lasted almost two hours. They wanted to know everything about Will and London, how things were at the castle, how Will had traveled there, what he thought of Romania. He barely had a chance to eat, he was forced to talk so much. Finally, he managed to steer the conversation back to the Lecter family and their long-standing rule over these particular lands and the village.

The council had many tales to tell of how the ancient line had protected the village from invading Turks, bands of marauders, power-hungry village elders that needed to be reminded who was in charge. More recently, Will learned, about ten years ago there had been an outbreak of sweating sickness. Count Lecter himself had ministered to the sick, ordering everyone else to stay away from those in quarantine, despite how the council begged him not to infect himself.

"It was as if God himself protected Count Lecter," Katerina sighed through a grateful smile, watching Will finally finish his dessert. "We gathered them all here, in this very tavern, and he cared for them all. A few he could not save – they were old and sickly to begin with – but the young, and the children! They got better with his care. And it stopped the sickness. Without him, the whole village would have died."

Will's heart felt full to overflowing. He had no reason to feel it, but he was proud to hear of all that Count Lecter had done for the village. It made him feel validated – that it made sense to have feelings of affection for someone who was so good to these folks. And damned brave, if the story about the plague hadn't been exaggerated. These people were well taken care of. He'd seen other villages on the journey that were essentially destitute, people scraping out a hard living, their suffering etched on their faces, their children's eyes bright with hunger. Everyone here seemed healthy, some residents even edging toward stout. Will felt like his instant connection with Count Lecter had to be a result of his empathy pulse. It lent credence to his ability to judge character.

Will was glad the meal seemed like it was almost over, everyone settling in with cleared plates and cups of tea. "Could I, uhm... ask you something about... something strange I saw?" Will directed this at Katerina.

"Anything, Mr. Graham."

He described the blue flames he'd seen in the woods. "I asked Count Lecter about them, and, uhm... he said there was a-a superstition that on May 4th, the lights showed where there was treasure buried."

A chill passed over the table that was so sudden, Will almost felt it with his skin, not with his mind. "A foolish belief," Katarina said quickly. "Those who have gone to search for it over the years have never returned. Never. In fact, it is town council rule that everyone is home that night."