The Vampyre by Tom Holland Page B

its way past an outcrop of rock - we followed it, and there, built up the mountainside, were the ruins of a town. The path snaked upwards, to a castle built on the peak. It too seemed ruined, and I could see no light shining from its battlements. Nevertheless, staring at the jagged form the castle made against the stars, I was certain that we had reached our journey’s end, and that there, inside its walls, Vakhel Pasha would be expecting us.
    â€˜We began to ride through the town. There were churches, open to the moon, and shattered pillars submerged by weeds. In one ruin, I saw a small shack, built between the columns of some abandoned hall, and then, as I rode on up the path, I saw more houses, wretched like the first, huddled like squatters amongst the wreckage of the past. This was the village, I realised, from which Haidée must have fled, but there was no sign of her now, nor of any living thing, save for a dog, which barked wildly, then came running up to us wagging its tail. I reached down to stroke it; the creature licked my hand, and followed us as we rode on up the path. Ahead was a great wall, guarding the castle, with two open gates. I paused beneath them to look back at the village. I remembered Yanina and Tapaleen, the scenes of life that had greeted us there, and I shivered now, despite the unbearable heat, to see the wretched stillness of the hovels below. As we turned and rode on through the gates, even the dog whined and slunk away.
    â€˜The gates slammed shut - and still there was no one to be seen. There were more walls, I could see now, between us and the castle, which seemed built from the very mountain, so sheerly its battlements rose up from the cliffs. The only path to the castle was the one we were following now - and the only route of escape, I thought suddenly, as a second pair of gates swung shut behind our backs. But I could see torches now, bobbing on the walls, and I was grateful for the signs of life - I began to think of food, and a soft bed, and all those pleasures you have to be a traveller to earn. I pressed my horse forwards through a third and final gate, and as I did so, looked behind me to see that the entire road was lit by torches now. Then the third pair of gates swung shut, and all was stillness again, and we were alone. Our horses whinnied with fear, and the striking of their hooves echoed off the stone. We were in a courtyard; ahead of us, steps led up to an open doorway, very ancient, I realised, decorated with the statues of monstrous things; above us towered the castle wall. All was lit by the blazing silver of the moon. I dismounted and crossed the courtyard towards the open door.
    â€˜â€œWelcome to my home,” said Vakhel Pasha. I had not seen him appear; but there he was, waiting for me, at the top of the steps. He held out his hands and took mine; he embraced me. “My dear Lord Byron,” he whispered in my ear. “I am so glad you have come.”
    â€˜He kissed me, fully on the lips, then stood back to stare into my eyes. His own gleamed more brightly than I remembered from before; his face too was as silver as the moon, its border luminous, like crystal against the dark. He took my arm and led me. “The journey here is hard,” he said. “Come and eat, and then take your well-earned rest.”
    â€˜I followed him through courtyards, up stairways, past countless doors. I realised that I was more tired than I had known, for the architecture of the place seemed like that of my dreams, endlessly extending and diminishing itself, full of impossible junctures and blendings of styles. “Here,” said the Pasha at last, brushing aside a curtain of gold, and beckoning me to follow him. I looked around; pillars, in the style of an ancient temple, framed the room, but above me, in a glittering mosaic of golds and blues and greens, rose a dome so airy it seemed made of glass. The light was faint, there being only two large