Civilization
A gust of frosty wind blew in Myra’s face, and she pulled at the woolen blanket, trying to disappear inside it. Snowflakes bit at her cheeks like tiny daggers. Her eyes fixed on the flames, rising greedily, dancing, devouring frost and snow. Ice and fire, caught up in an eternal battle. Humans and vampires. Change and stability. There was no peace, no balance, only never-ending conflict.
Myra was beginning to see where this story was going—perhaps Vlad would rebel against his ruler and cause disaster—but she could not yet comprehend how this all tied in to his decision to stage the Nightfall. She glanced at Sissi, who stared at the Prince with an entranced, dreamy look, as if she could devour his words with her eyes.
It all felt so surreal. Vlad had once had a family. A wife and a child. Of course, Myra had known that already, but it had all been abstract in her mind. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that Vlad hadn’t always been a bloodthirsty monster. He had once been a man, just like any other. A man who had felt the warmth of the sun on his face. A man raising a daughter and actively participating in politics.
But hearing Vlad mention his father was the strangest of all. He’d had parents. Logically, she had always known that, but now the concept was becoming tangible for the first time. He had once been born and had grown up from a little boy into a man.
Myra blinked, and through the mist of snowflakes, she saw him for the first time. A human, turned into the monster who had destroyed the world. But why?
“Even a hunting trip with my family couldn’t take my mind off this madness,” Vlad spoke, his voice hushed like the falling snow. “I ached to tell Roxana and ask for her advice, but these were confidential matters of state. I couldn’t share them; not even with those I trusted the most.
“I watched Erniké on her horse, a young woman now, her twin braids much tidier than they had been a decade ago, and yet a few stubborn strands still escaped. A striking image of her mother, though her face was thinner and her eyes not as large. Her raven braids flew behind her as her stallion galloped, and an invisible hand squeezed my heart, more and more tightly, until I could no longer breathe.
“I saw a terrible image in my mind—these beautiful braids, made to wave in the wind, this wild hair, made to fly everywhere and resist Erniké’s halfhearted attempts to tame it, this hair, hidden underneath a veil. A Christian woman always had to obey. Obey her husband, obey her parents. Under different circumstances, the thought would have made me smile. Erniké obeying her parents? Now that would be a first.
“A joyous scream took me out of my horrid thoughts, and I could breathe once again. ‘Mama! Papa! I found a lake in the woods! I discovered it! I discovered it!’
“My nine-year-old, Asmara, was running through the grass, her long hair flying loose behind her. A golden wreath of braided dandelions adorned her head, more regal than any crown. ‘No one has discovered this lake before. I’ll name it Asmara Lake!’
“My heart clenched. I knew exactly what ‘lake’ she was talking about. It was the pond where a decade ago a Christian family had baptized their son. What were they doing now? Would the Khan’s decision make them happy, or would they hate the thought of their religion being forced upon others?
“Erniké jumped off her horse and walked to her sister, ruffling her hair and knocking off the dandelion wreath. ‘You foolish piglet! Everyone knows about the pond in the woods! I’ve swum in it many times!’
“Asmara pushed her sister’s hand away and scolded at her. ‘You lie! I found it first!’
“I watched them, and my throat grew tight. The images returned to me—pictures of heavy constricting robes, of veils and small fitted caps. I couldn’t do this to my daughters. And, as long as my heart still beat, I would fight for them and for their future.
“Once I returned home, I went to speak to my mother. ‘The Khan is about to do something terrible,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
“She shook her head. ‘If you’re planning to rise against the Khan, forget it. He is powerful, and you have a family to think about. They cannot lose you.’
“‘And what if I cannot allow what the Khan plans to come to pass?’ I said. ‘I need to speak to Father. I need his wisdom.’
“Her eyes widened and she reached out to touch my chest. ‘You know this is impossible. Your father can no longer give you the advice you need. Speaking to him will bring you no solace.’
“My heart ached, but I knew that her words were true. I had to make the choice myself, but I could see no right path.”
Myra’s eyes narrowed. What was Vlad talking about? First, he’d hinted he could not possibly talk to his father, without revealing why, and then he dropped the subject. Was he following his own writing techniques when telling this story? Was he trying to create mystery? If so, it was a cheap trick. She ached to tell him that, to show him she had learned enough to criticize his storytelling, but she hesitated to interrupt, afraid he would stop and never finish the story.
But Myra’s thoughts were spinning. Vlad having a mother? And seeking her advice? Vlad hesitating? Vlad being unsure? Myra couldn’t imagine he had not always been the all-powerful, all-knowing monstrous ruler of the world. That he had been a young man, searching for his place in history. She bit her lip to stop herself from speaking and watched him in silence.
“Khan Boris was right,” the Prince continued. “Rome and Constantinople did haggle for what he had to offer, and he played them both, taking the best he could from each. For a while, it looked like Rome would come out on top, but then all our worst fears came true.
“‘We will accept Christianity from Byzantium,’ Boris announced at the council. ‘Emperor Michael III will be my godfather. I will accept the Christian name Michael, after him, and I will take the title Knyaz. You, yourselves, will accept the Slavic noble title, boyars.’
“‘Kanasubigi…’ Terimer started, but Boris raised a hand to interrupt him.
“‘No. Not Kanasubigi anymore. I believe the correct style is Your Majesty.’
“All our arguments, our reasons, our pleas, fell on deaf ears. The Khan had a counterargument to every argument we offered, and he showed it clearly once again—he wasn’t asking for our advice. He had made his choice and was following through.
“Terimer and Kotrag joined me on the way out. ‘We cannot allow this to happen,’ Terimer said once we were far away from prying ears. ‘The Khan has a large army, but we have our own men. Many of the boílas disagree with this madness. We can easily find allies.’
“‘You speak of a rebellion against the Khan,’ Kotrag said.
“Terimer halted in his tracks and turned to face us. ‘You heard His Majesty. We no longer have a Khan.’
“We had stopped at a corner, next to a gorgeous pictorial carpet hanging on the wall. It showed a stunning view—the place where the Balkan Mountains met the Black Sea in a kiss of salt and wind, forming a stony cape in the dark waters. It was said to be the stormiest spot in our land, and yet the sky on the carpet was blue and clear. Tangra was the god of the blue sky, and as long as it was clear, he would always protect us.
“‘It is a rebellion we cannot win,’ I said.
“‘Are you certain?’ asked Terimer. ‘I can bring many boílas to our side. Our combined strength is greater than the Khan’s. Perhaps Krum’s Dynasty has ruled long enough. Perhaps we need fresh blood on the throne.’
“The carpet moved.
“We all froze and stared in horror as the pictorial rug slid to the side, revealing a gaping hole in the wall. A man emerged, so young he was almost a boy. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, framing a thin, thoughtful face. He was dressed in a simple linen tunic and leather trousers, much unlike the detailed ceremonial furs I had always seen him in. I barely recognized him in these clothes, but there was no doubt that in front of us stood Vladimir-Rasate, the young heir of Krum’s Dynasty. The dynasty we sought to tear down.
“‘So,’ Vladimir said. ‘I hear you plan a rebellion against my father.’
“The blood drained from my face. I saw Terimer’s hand go to his sword’s handle. Was he planning to murder the boy? I could see his reasoning—if the Khan’s son told anyone about this, we would all die. And yet, it seemed so wrong.
“‘Have no fear,’ Vladimir said. ‘I see that your intentions are pure, and I will not betray you. But I beg of you, do not do this.’
“‘You cannot tell us to step back,’ Terimer said.
“‘My father’s armies are larger than you believe,’ he said. ‘You will all die, and I cannot allow that. I will not see any blood spilled. There is no need for that. All we have to do is wait.’
“‘Wait?’ Kotrag echoed.
“‘My father will not rule forever,’ the boy said. ‘I will be khan one day. And once that day comes, I will burn down any Christian temples my father plans to raise and will restore our true god and our glory.’
“‘It may be too late,’ I said. ‘What if many people have converted by then? How do we go back?’
“‘I cannot believe our people will forget our ways,’ the Khan’s son said. ‘They may say the words, but they will never accept the Christian God. They will be ready to go back, but when the time comes, I will need brave and true men by my side. Men like you. I need you all alive, but if you rise in rebellion, I cannot protect you.’
“‘Then why wait at all?’ Terimer said.
“Vladimir’s face changed in an instant. The open friendliness disappeared, and it grew dark and hard as stone. ‘I am sure I misunderstood you, Boíla Terimer. Certainly, you cannot be proposing to assassinate my father? If you try, I will not only refuse to protect you, but I will kill you myself. Are we clear?’
“Terimer bowed his head. ‘We are. We will be patient. We will wait for your time to come, Kanasubigi.’
“Calling the boy this title while his father still ruled was unusual, improper, even treasonous. And yet, it felt completely right.”
“The Khan’s son had claimed all would be well, but I was still unconvinced. What if we waited too long, and by the time he ascended the throne, there was no turning back? State secret or not, I told Roxana everything and asked for her advice.
“‘I understand your fears, my love,’ she said, ‘as I understand the Khan’s reasons. But there is one thing you have failed to consider.’
“‘What is it?’
“She placed her hand on my arm. ‘The Khan is a messenger of Tangra. He is the vessel to make Tangra’s will known in our world.’
“‘And now the Khan has betrayed this duty.’
“She smiled and brushed my cheek. ‘Has he? Have you ever considered that this could be Tangra’s will?’
“I took a step back. ‘What are you saying? How can it be Tangra’s will that we accept the Christian God? That we no longer worship him?’
“‘Our people’s well-being is more important to him than whether we worship him or not. And is this not indeed what is best for our people? To be closer to Europe? To stop being outsiders? To unite with the Slavs and finally be one nation, instead of sharing the land and its goods?’
“I couldn’t believe it. I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath. ‘How can you say this? You, who used to be his priestess?’
“‘I say this precisely because I was his priestess. Maybe I understand his will better than you ever could.’
“‘I need to know if this is indeed Tangra’s will,’ I said. ‘I need you to talk to him.’
“A sad smile appeared on her face. ‘My love, how many times do I need to tell you? He no longer speaks to me. Not after the day I chose you over him.’
“‘Even if you no longer have visions, you can still read the blood,’ I insisted. ‘Let us make a sacrifice. Let us interpret the signs.’
“‘You should ask another to do it,’ she said. ‘I know many good priestesses and priests.’
“I took her hands in mine. ‘No. I trust no one else.’
“She nodded and kissed me. ‘Then let us do this together. But it can be no ordinary sacrifice. We must go to a holy place. We must climb Khan Tangra.’”
“Khan Tangra?” Myra interrupted and shivered at the sound of her own voice. It sounded too high-pitched and out of place to her own ears, as if she was intruding into something that was not hers to take. “Is that a mountain?”
“It is the highest peak on the Balkan Peninsula,” Vlad said. “When the Ottoman Turks came to my lands, they called it ‘Musala’—close to Allah. Perhaps even they sensed the power there. This name stayed, and the old one was forgotten. But it was a holy place to my people, and it is still holy to me.
“I spent the next few days preparing for the journey. I sent word to Roxana’s mother, asking her to come and help with the household while we were away. I left instructions to everyone—servants, tutors, and my own family.
“The day before my departure, I sat in the hall, writing a last set of letters. Erniké and Asmara sat at the smaller table, playing a game. They threw polished sheep anklebones as one might throw dice, and moved pebbles across a painted wooden board.
“A plate of white brine cheese and bright red watermelon slices lay on the table, next to their board. I had first bought seeds of this strange sweet plant from African traders in Constantinople only a few years ago, but it was already growing all over our lands and had quickly become a favorite of everyone at court. Pieces of parchment lay scattered all over the rest of the table, covered in the strange Latin letters—Erniké’s lessons in the tongue of the Frankish Kingdom, barely comprehensible to me.
“Erniké was dressed in a rich red robe, embroidered with gold at the sleeves. Golden earrings with red rubies decorated her ears, and her long black hair, normally straight as a leek, was now curled into soft waves. A perfect picture of a Byzantine noblewoman, the illusion shattered only by the blue stone that hung at her neck to protect her from the Evil Eye.
“‘Papa,’ Asmara said, looking up from her game. ‘How long will you and Mama be away?’
“‘At least twenty days, my heart,’ I said. ‘I will miss you, but I know you and your sister will take good care of our house.’
“‘What route will you take?’ she asked.
“I leaned back in my chair. ‘What route do you suggest?’ I smiled as she hesitated. ‘Come now. We have maps in the cupboard. Bring me one, and we can look at routes together.’
“She grinned and jumped excitedly, and Erniké rolled her eyes. Asmara ran to the cupboard and returned, laying a map on the table in front of me.
“‘Where are we?’ I asked.
“‘Here.’ She pointed at the city of Pliska. ‘And here is where you need to go. So you and Mama have to go southwest.’
“‘Very good,’ I said. ‘And which route should we take?’
“Asmara drew a straight line with her finger between the two destinations. Erniké slapped her forehead, and I laughed.
“‘My sweet, I am no bird. What is the terrain I must ride over? Is it only plains?’
“She frowned and gave me an uncomprehending, helpless look. I wanted to kiss away her frown and make her smile again, but she needed to learn. ‘Is there something between us and Khan Tangra? Something difficult to cross?’
“Her face lit up. ‘The Balkan Mountains!’
“‘They are perilous and hard to cross at most places,’ I said. ‘So, what can I do?’
“She jumped and clapped her hands. ‘You can find a pass!’ She pored over the map. ‘Here! The Varbitsa Pass is the closest.’
“I stared at the word on the map. Varbitsa. Little willow. The Slavic name looked so strange, written in our runes. It looked only slightly better in Greek letters. Boris was right—the Slavs needed an alphabet that fit their tongue. But not like this.
“My heart twisted as I stared at the word. The pass bore a Slavic name, like so many landmarks around here. Would this land ever truly belong to us, or would it be theirs first? Boris wished to erase this idea of ‘us’ and ‘them,’ but I feared that if he had it his way, we would disappear, and only they would remain.
“And yet, the name had given me an opportunity to test Asmara’s progress with her lessons. ‘Do you know what happened there?’
“Erniké frowned and gave me a strange look. Before I could wonder what it was about, someone knocked on the door.
“‘Come in,’ I called in Slavonic, expecting one of the servants. And indeed, in came our maid, Desislava.
“I watched her as she walked into a hall, a tray with three wine goblets in her hands. Her pale golden hair fell around her round, snow-white face. Her light blue eyes bored into me, and I shuddered involuntarily. A true daughter of this land, like my own daughters would never be. Fear gripped my heart—the same old fear that perhaps, although our ancestors had ridden to these lands two centuries ago, we would never truly belong here. Perhaps we belonged in the vast steppes of Asia and not in these warm, arable lands. Perhaps we would melt here, like snowflakes under the sun.
“She handed me a goblet, her pale fingers long and graceful. She then turned to hand one to each of my daughters, her long, white dress trailing behind her. As I watched her, I could easily understand how the Slavs had come up with the myth of the samodivas—the beautiful, golden-haired women who lived in the mountains, dancing under the night sky, luring hapless men away from their path.
“‘Would you require anything else, master?’ she asked.
“‘Thank you, Desi. That would be all,’ I said and watched her leave. I raised my goblet and took a slow sip.
“This wine came from my own vineyards in the Balkan Mountains. I rolled it in my mouth and savored the taste. It had been a good year. No vines grew in the steppes of Asia. People there drank only kumis—a beverage made of fermented horse milk. But this was my wine, from my vineyards. This was my home, and I was here to stay.
“I looked at my younger daughter. ‘Asmara, you were about to tell me what happened at the Varbitsa Pass?’
“Her eyes brightened, and she took a sip from her wine. ‘A great battle!’ she cried.
“Erniké frowned and leaned back in her chair, her long golden earrings swinging as she moved. I looked at Asmara. ‘And how did this battle come about?’
“‘The Byzantine Emperor Nikephoros attacked Pliska,’ Asmara said. She stood up and started jumping up and down and waving her hands in the air as she spoke. ‘Khan Krum offered peace, but the Emperor didn’t wish to hear of it. He invaded Pliska and tormented our people with cruelty unheard of before! He butchered men and women, children and the elderly! Khan Krum still offered peace, but the Emperor refused!’
“I smiled. She was becoming overly excited, jumping up and down in one spot, her small face red. ‘And what did the Khan do?’
“‘He prepared an ambush at the Varbitsa Pass and surprised Nikephoros on his way south!’ she cried and jumped high in the air. ‘He killed all his advisors, commanders and soldiers, and mortally wounded his son!’
“‘And what did Khan Krum do to the Emperor himself?’ I asked.
“‘He chopped off his head!’ Asmara squeaked and made a sharp gesture in front of her throat. ‘Then, he covered his skull in silver and used it as a goblet to drink his wine!’
“‘Lovely,’ Erniké said, her voice dry.
“Something was wrong with Erniké, and I needed to find out what it was. ‘Asmara, why don’t you go see if your mother needs any help preparing for the journey?’ I said.
“Asmara jumped again, clapping her hands in the air, and ran out of the room. Erniké rolled her eyes once her little sister was out. ‘You know, in a year or two you won’t be able to send her on fake errands just to get her out of the room.’
“‘Then I’ll enjoy it while it lasts,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong?’
“‘This story.’ She waved her hand in the air, as if grasping for words. ‘The way we tutor children. Everything.’
“I pulled a chair closer to her and sat down. ‘How so?’
“‘What are we trying to teach?’ she asked. ‘That we should be proud that our ruler used human skulls as cups? That’s barbaric. That the Greeks are our enemies? Why deliver a message of hate?’
“‘Because it’s true,’ I said. ‘Byzantium has been our enemy ever since our ancestors arrived in these lands.’
“‘Perhaps because we invaded their land and conquered it?’ she suggested.
“‘Their land?’ I said. ‘These lands belonged to the Slavs. Byzantium was terrorizing the locals and treating them as slaves—where do you think the word sklávos comes from? Byzantium is an empire, Erniké. Do you know what an empire is?’
“She crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘I’m no longer a child. You don’t need to test me. It’s a state that rules over many other different countries and nations.’
“‘And every empire has a central state that rises above all, while the others are oppressed,’ I said. ‘Byzantium is no different. It sprang from the remnants of old Rome and carries many of its sins.’
“‘This land belonged to the Slavs, you say?’ she challenged. ‘Did we give it back to them, then? How are we any different? We still rule over them.’
“‘Surely, you see the difference,’ I said. ‘They are as free as we are. They can own land, and they can work and be paid. Look at Desi, for example. She is no slave. If she is unhappy here, she can leave at any time.’
“‘And go where? To serve another family, where she could be even less happy? What options does she have? She can’t read and write. She doesn’t even speak any language but Slavonic.’
“‘Are you certain?’ I said. ‘Perhaps she understands every word we say and pretends she doesn’t, so we would speak freely in front of her.’
“Erniké frowned. ‘What? Desi can speak Bulgar?’
“‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But pretending I don’t understand is what I would do in her place. Erniké, you should never reveal all the pieces you hold, but should keep them and play them at the right time.’
“I reached out to take the sheep anklebones and threw them on the table. ‘The great game of life is much like this one—a combination of luck and strategy. You throw the bones, and they decide your fate, but you can still work within these confines and improve your chances. Desi was born with fewer opportunities than you, but if she makes her moves right, and if you make mistakes, she can still rise above you. You should always be aware of the advantages you already have and how best to use them to strengthen your position.’
“Erniké sighed. ‘Fine. But I don’t understand why we should create this culture of hate and fear. The Greeks are our neighbors. There is so much that we can learn from them—so much beauty, culture, art. So much civilization.’
“If Erniké had spoken these words months ago, I would have wholeheartedly agreed. But now, a sharp pain shot through my heart. Would she welcome the Christianity the Greeks now offered? If she hungered for this so-called civilization, would that be her desire? Would she put all our traditions behind and embrace the foreign?
“‘I need to prepare one last thing for the journey,’ I said. ‘Will you help me?’
“She looked unhappy with my lack of reply to her challenge but nodded. I stood up and walked out of the hall.”