It turned out that my father and Iglacias being there “soon” meant sometime the next day. After breakfast Grigor went with me while I explored the fields and the edges of the forest around the inn. He didn’t know nearly as much about nature as Iglacias did, but he was just as interested.
And he told me stories of his service in liberating our valley, and afterwards as a spy for our Baron, stories that got my heart pounding again. I wondered why Iglacias had never told me such stories.
As we were all sitting down to lunch, including Allura’s abandoned servants, the innkeeper’s wife—her name was Suzana—drew me aside to exclaim over what Grigor had done. “When the three of them suddenly attacked him, I didn’t think your man had any chance at all, especially when he drew that wooden sword. But he took them all out in half no time. A fearsome fighter, especially for someone his age.” Grigor was still in his disguise; I didn’t ask why.
The soup had just arrived when my father and Iglacias walked in, followed by a few baronial guards. My father hugged and kissed me while the Baron (and the guards for that matter) stood back and beamed. They all sat down to eat, and my father told us, “The Baron and I had no idea how dangerous Allura was when we left. The Baron suspected her of being a gold digger, and he wanted me along because it only mattered if I became convinced, too.
“When we got to Milan and started to dig, we found out terrible things! When the evidence was strong enough to convince me, we hurried back. I admit, I was slow to believe. I think there may have been something in the food Allura fed me, too, some kind of love potion.”
So my highly practical father, too, believed in magic? “She told me yesterday what she had done,” I said, “something between bragging and confessing.”
Iglacias and my father stared at me, looking even more horrified at this than had Grigor when I told Allura’s story to him. “It was a good thing Grigor was here to save me,” I calmly continued.
“It was,” Iglacias said. “Grigor is a sharp man.”
At the end of the meal, which included two kinds of cheese (one more than Allura had expected in our rustic retreat), Iglacias, Grigor, my father and I rose to take some air. It was such a relief to see this yard in the company of people whom I could trust. As we walked, I remarked, “Allura said there was a terrible, powerful man who secretly rules Milan now—her old lover.”
My father and Iglacias looked at each other. The latter answered, “I believe that is true, but we never saw him. We quickly learned enough to make us charge back, ready to confront Allura.”
My father added, “I heard that it was he who convinced Napoleon to be crowned king of Italy in the Duomo there. We never learned his real name. They call him Il Burattinaio, the Puppeteer.”
“She also said you practice the dark arts, Iglacias,” and without waiting for an answer, I rushed on. “I know that’s not true because there is no such thing as magic.”
The Baron looked around. There was no one in sight except for us four. He pointed to a tree behind the stable, out of sight of the inn. “What would you think if I could set that tree on fire with a magic spell?”
I laughed. “I’d suppose that my father wouldn’t let you take me off behind the stable without a chaperone! You’re teasing, Iglacias. I’m not some superstitious rustic who believes the Rostov barons are magicians, black or white.”
Iglacias smiled at my father. “You had to ship her away to Venice, Josif, didn’t you?” Then he looked at me, and I saw a light turn on in his eyes … or maybe off. I still can’t guess what the change was, but I know I saw something. He nodded at Grigor, laughed, and declared, “Ah, you’re so right, Dragana. There’s no fooling an educated woman.”
Then Iglacias and my father set to dealing with the small retinue of servants that Allura had left behind, leaving me to walk around the fields with Grigor. I believe the servants all elected to take testimonials of character from my father and seek work back in Venice; I certainly never again saw any of them in the Kalzov Valley.
In the days that followed, Grigor began calling on me. Like our Baron before him, he accompanied me on excursions into the countryside, which meant I had to bring my youngest aunt as a duenna. Fortunately, Aunt Marija actually liked nature, me, and Grigor, so she was quite cheerful about her new duty.
When Grigor would find me working at my microscope, he insisted I not stop to entertain him, and he learned how to peer through it himself. He sat in our parlor playing on the tamburitza and singing me love songs, like a Spaniard outside a señorita’s window. As he had at the picnic, Grigor still played the zany at times among my friends, but I didn’t have to be told that this was misdirection, so that no one thought of him as a possible spy. I saw his work as manly and clever, even as I was frightened by the dangers he rode into. My respect for him grew and grew, and my love, too.
Baron Iglacias and I still got along very well. In fact, some months later he asked me to teach natural science to the teachers at the Kalzov Valley school, so that they in turn could “bring their pupils out of superstition”, as he repeatedly put it. Eventually he provided the funds, and part of the energy, to help me found my own female seminary here, and to attract some of the daughters of our leading families—and of some of our peasants. Like his father before him, he also supported the continuing education of promising young men, occasionally at the Royal Academy of Science in Zagreb, but more often in various universities of Italy, especially Florence, where natural science was most valued.
A few times a year he came on excursions with Grigor and me. But Iglacias never “caught” me again. And every so often, I would see hints of something beyond, a dark, chilling something, and I found myself often calling him “Your Excellency” again. I am as close as I want to be to the famous Baron Rostov, that man of dangerous mystery.
Grigor, on the other hand, became a rock … such a strong one that he is now my husband.
I never did discover whether Allura accomplished her seeming suicide by sleight of hand or actual magic. But I was delighted that I never crossed her path again.
-- The End --