THE IMPALER'S WIFE

Chapter 24

Smack!Icy gusts slam the open shutters against the wall. Despite the howling storm, I fling off the fur blanket and hurry across the room to close them.

"Leave them be," Vlad says from the bed.

"It's so windy it rains sideways." I point to the floor. "You'll be able to fish in this puddle soon."

"I find comfort in storms." His voice is as bright and sunny as it is dark and dreary outside. "The wind heartens me, and the rain sheds tears I cannot."

"Tears?" A blast of frigid air scatters cold mist over my skin. I dart away from the window.

Vlad leaps off the bed like a lynx and drapes a mink cape over my shoulders. "Do you have something to tell me, Ilona?"

I snuggle into the fur. "Mmm, let me think. You already know about the envoy from Florence who keeps a black-skinned mistress, and I told you about Matthias's latest lover, the large-breasted daughter of an elderly courtier."

He nips at my ear. "I'm not talking about Egyptian whores and feeble-minded wenches."

"What then, my lord? I never keep anything from you."

Vlad's arms encircle me, and his fingers splay wide across my belly. "Are your courses timely?"

"My courses?" I chew on my lip. When was the last time I bled?

"Six weeks have passed," he murmurs.

The realization comes in a flash, more startling than the lightning gilding the room. "I'm with child?!" I spin about. Joy pours over me like a waterfall. "How...?" I stare at him amazed. "Did you count the weeks?"

"I counted the days." With a wolfish grin, Vlad carries me squealing to bed. He sets me down and flutters kisses over my belly. "Give me a healthy son, Princess Ilona." He drops his head between my thighs, his fingers and tongue making me squeal again.

#

I cannot share my joyful news. Vlad forbids it. Says we must wait until my belly is round. But Bernádett figures it out the day my breasts burst from my bodice.

That same afternoon, Aunt Erzsébet touches my hard, rounded belly. "Pray each day for your unborn child and cease all marital relations."

Heat blooms in my cheeks. Vlad beds me once a day, sometimes twice. "Why?"

"It will harm the babe." Aunt Erzsébet palpates my stomach. "How far along are you?"

"Almost five months." I arch my back and cup the swell that is not yet noticeable under my skirts.

"Dracula was prudent to keep it quiet. Many babes are lost in the first few months. Have you felt the quickening?"

"I think so."

Aunt Erzsébet's face lights up. "Good. You must be careful, Ilona. No horseback riding. No hawking. Prince Vlad will be furious if his child is lost to your negligence. Do not worry about his manly needs, he will find his pleasures elsewhere during your lying-in. Men always do."

Her advice feels like a punch to my gut. No! Not my Vlad. I am enough for him.

"Is it true?" I ask Vlad after relating Aunt Erzsébet's advice.

"She's an old fool." He strokes my cheek. "But she is right about one thing. No more horseback riding after the seventh month."

Vlad takes great interest in my pregnancy. He interviews midwifes. He commissions the royal carpenter to make a cradle from cedar, the sacred wood of Noah's Ark and the Ark of the Covenant. He orders oranges, pomegranates, and figs be delivered from afar.

Months pass. My belly ripens. Our lovemaking decreases. I am not too worried because Vlad showers me with gifts.

When the court astrologer predicts a son, Vlad buys me costly perfumes. When an old gypsy prophesies of his long lineage he orders an ermine collar made for my cloak. Not all gifts are extravagant. The best ones are humble. A tray of perfect red, yellow, and orange fall leaves collected from the forest. A branch of ice-glazed red berries. A bucket of fresh snow. The first loaf of bread hot from the oven. My favorite gift, however, is when Vlad reads to me.

Vlad pauses his translation of Ovid's tale about Theseus to spread his hand over my distended belly. "He kicks like a warrior."

"I wish this wee warrior wouldn't kick my ribs quite so vigorously." I slurp juice from an orange wedge.

A proud smile darts across Vlad's face. "Our manse in Pest is almost complete. It's time you see your new lying-in chamber." He thrusts his tongue inside for a sweet kiss.

We make the trip the next day. A fleet of servants in livery waits in the courtyard. I lumber through each room, wide-eyed and delighted by the furnishings. Many are new, commissioned by Vlad. Others glow with an aged patina.

Vlad notes every detail as we tour the manse, from the arches' curvature to the marble columns' smoothness to the tile floor's symmetry.

At the base of an impressive curved staircase, Vlad looks at me with lust-clouded eyes. "Both our chambers are upstairs. Each has an exceptional view of the Danube and courtyard. Shall we anoint it with our pleasures?" He loops his arm through mine.

I look up the long flight of stairs and heave a loud sigh. If that's what Vlad wants...

Vlad presses his lips to my ear. "Your time must be near. I have never known you to sigh with weariness when I suggest lovemaking."

"This belly weighs me down like an anchor." I pat my rock hard belly.

Vlad encloses my hands. "An anchor securing the Dracul lineage."

#

I plod through the crowded party with the grace of a bear. My face is bloated and my back hurts. The narrow-waisted maidens flitting around Vlad make me want to snarl. How dare they flirt with my husband! Even Margit takes advantage of my fatigue. She bats her eyes, smiles, whispers in his ear, and affects provocative poses. Jealousy claws at me like a bear scratching a tree.

Aunt Erzsébet takes a seat beside me. "I hear Dracula employs only servants from Wallachia."

"You heard correctly." My eyes stay fixed on Margit. My glowering does not thwart her flirtatious flouncing. In truth, it increases it.

"Dracula sees treachery everywhere. Or at least, the opportunity for it. Be vigilant. Trust no one. Spies are everywhere."

I drag my eyes away from Margit and Vlad. "I know. Vlad reminds me all the time."

"Heed his warning." Aunt Erzsébet twists her green vesuvianite ring. "You are well-suited for one another, a love match from all appearances." Her eyes soften into a faraway look, as though remembering her marriage to John Hunyadi. "Be steadfast, Ilona. Ambitious men like Dracula are difficult to live with. You will need patience, understanding, and tolerance to cope with all the troubles that come with such a strong-willed and stubborn man." She looks at me. "Can you do that?"

Troubles to come? Whatever does she mean by that?