‘Sarah, love,’ he whispered. ‘It’s Ethan. I’ve come to take you home.’
Her eyes fluttered, and for the first time Ethan saw light in them.
‘Ethan?’
Her voice was almost inaudible.
‘Yes, dear, I’ve come to get you out of here.’
She shook her head.
‘He said…he’d kill me if I tried to leave. Someone…took away my clothes… He said the cold…’
‘The cold will kill you if you go out without clothes,’ said Ilona. ‘It will take some time before we can get you to warmth.’
‘What can we do?’ Ethan asked.
Ilona looked at Sarah, then at Ethan and herself.
‘Ethan,’ she said, ‘you and I, we have good quality clothes on the outside, and I think we have some warm clothing underneath. I suggest I give Sarah my jacket, and you can give her your trousers. If we’re fast…’
Ethan removed his thick outer trousers and handed them to Ilona. She flapped her hands in the air until he cottoned on and turned his back. Ilona drew the blanket away, wincing as she saw the bruises that covered Sarah’s naked body. She helped her into the trousers and the jacket. They fitted her well enough.
‘What about her head?’ asked Ethan. ‘She’ll lose a lot of heat if she goes out there bareheaded.’
Ilona frowned, then pounced on the blanket, which she proceeded to tear in half.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘let me make a turban for you.’ She twisted the cloth round Sarah’s head, pulling it tight and tucking the loose end inside the fabric. It was bizarre, but a passable head covering.
‘What about feet?’ asked Ilona.
Ethan realised that, without some sort of footwear, Sarah would end up with severe frostbite.
‘We could use the blanket,’ he said. ‘Tear it into strips…’
‘No, I have a better idea. We saw a pair of slippers in the first room. If they fit her, we can tie them with half the blanket to give more warmth.’
‘Sarah,’ asked Ethan, ‘how many people are in the castle? Do you have any idea?’
In the short time that had passed since they found her, Sarah had started to come alive. The deadness had gone out of her eyes. She looked directly at Ethan and shrugged.
‘The one called Egon. The beast called Lukacs, who hurt me every time he raped me.’ She screwed up her eyes, fighting back tears. ‘Some others, maybe four. There was a woman who brought me a little food. An old woman, she won’t stop you.’
But she could let out a yell and alert the others, thought Ethan.
‘Let’s get moving,’ he said. ‘The longer we hang about here, the higher the chances of someone coming.’
They left the lamp burning and got Sarah into the corridor. She moved painfully, each step a reminder of what had been done to her.
Re-entering the room they’d been in first, Ilona retrieved the slippers from the desk. They were fairly large, and as Ilona ran her hand over them, she realised they were leather, embroidered with a paisley motif. Sarah’s feet went inside them well enough, though they would hardly do to walk any great distance in. Ethan tore half the blanket into strips as Ilona had suggested and, as Sarah sat in the armchair, he bound her feet. She would not be comfortable, but if they could get her as far as the pony, she could ride the rest of the way.
Moving as silently as possible, they headed back to the stairs, conscious that every moment that passed brought them closer to discovery. Ethan paused to replace the batteries in his torch, fumbling as Ilona gave him light from hers. Sarah was shaking, as if breaking out of the false security of the little room had exposed her to greater danger.
Suddenly, as though it came from within the castle, a wolf howled and howled again. Ethan felt his scalp go cold. Beside him Ilona, who had taken Sarah’s arm and was helping her balance in her awkward shoes, shuddered. She had known wolves all her life, but had never come to love them.
‘Where am I?’ Sarah asked. Freed from the room, she was starting to come to her senses. ‘I know I’m not in England. But where is this?’
Ethan told her, adding as much detail as he deemed suitable. Sarah listened, understanding his words, but finding no meaning in them. How could she be in Romania, in Transylvania? She had been at Woodmancote, there had been a fireplace with burning logs, Ethan had been locked in a dark place, a place that smelt of putrefaction. On the wall, Ilona’s torch caught a picture showing a skeleton with a long scythe. Ilona looked at it and caught Sarah’s gaze.
‘Tarokk,’ she said. ‘What’s that in English?’
‘Tarot,’ said Ethan. ‘It’s the thirteenth card of the Major Arcana. Death.’
‘How do you know that, Ethan?’ Sarah asked. There was something in her voice this time that sounded more normal. Almost as if she were teasing him.
‘An old girlfriend,’ he said. ‘She made all her decisions with the cards. We weren’t together long.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
They made their way down to the principal landing at the top of the main staircase. Without warning, a light went on just above them, then another, then several at once, until the great hallway was flooded by electric light. Powered by a generator, the light was not particularly strong, and for several moments it flickered. But it was more than enough to capture them, as if spotlights held them pinned to a stage.
For half a minute, nothing else happened. Then the wolf howled again, very close, and Ethan heard footsteps from the ground floor. Sarah pulled away from Ilona and shrank against Ethan’s side. He took his pistol from the holster and held it behind his back. Knowing what had been done to Sarah and what might equally be done to Ilona, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
Three men appeared from the side corridor Ethan and Ilona had come through. As they did so, another man started down the stairs they had just come down, and a fifth emerged from the other side. They were big men, dressed in some sort of uniform, all in black, with short hair. Ethan looked round quickly. The men were grim-faced; tough guys, men with powerful bodies built, not in gyms, but probably on the mountains surrounding the castle.
Near the foot of the stairs, he recognised the man who’d come with Aehrenthal to Woodmancote, Lukacs. But it wasn’t Lukacs who grabbed his attention. It was the grey wolf straining at the end of a leash held in Lukacs’ hand and snarling at the intruders.
Lukacs shouted something; whether a command or challenge, Ethan had no idea. Ilona translated.
‘He says his wolf has not been fed all day. He says it will tear your throat out and dine on the rest of you.’
‘Tell him to fuck off. And ask him where Aehrenthal is.’
She did as he asked, but Lukacs’ only response was to laugh loudly, setting off the other men, who all seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
Lukacs spoke again. On all sides, the portraits stared down, fully illuminated now. The flags seemed to drift in a world of their own, in a time distinct and proper to themselves. Ethan watched how the eyes of the castle’s ancestors followed them, showing neither alarm nor the rapt attention of a crowd intent on the shedding of blood. If the wolf attacked, these would be the Romans, inured to bloodshed, indifferent to death.
‘He wants you to send us down alone, Sarah and me,’ said Ilona. She was doing her best to put on a brave front, but this wasn’t what she’d expected when she agreed to take Ethan to the castle. Beside her, Sarah was quivering and hunching down, as if by shrinking she might avoid detection.
‘Tell him it’s finished,’ Ethan said. ‘Tell him there will be no more rapes. Tell him that if he presses me, someone will die, that I have no time for him, that I consider beating and raping a woman a capital offence. We walk out of this castle, we go back to Sancraiu, and we all live happily ever after. Make sure he understands that.’