[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales October
1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _An alluring but deadly horror out of past centuries menaced
the life of the young American--a fascinating tale of a strange and eery
love_]
I have often wondered whether I would have urged Wrexler to come with me
if I had known what Rougemont would do to him. I think--looking
back--that even if I could have glimpsed the future, I would have acted
in the same way, and that I would have brought him to Rougemont to
fulfill his destiny.
As the boat cut its swift way through the waters on its journey to
France, I had no thought of this. Nor had Wrexler. He was happier than I
had ever seen him. He had never been abroad before, and the boat was a
source of wonder and enjoyment to him.
I myself was full of an eager anticipation of happy months to come. It
hardly seemed possible that only a week had elapsed since I received the
cable that had made such a change in my fortunes:
Your father died yesterday. You are sole heir, provided you
comply with conditions of his will, the principal one being
that you spend six months of each year at Rougemont. If
satisfactory, come at once.
It was signed by my father's lawyer.
I had no sorrow over my father's passing, except a deep regret that we
could not have known the true relationship of father and son. At the
death of my mother, my father had grown bitter and refused to see the
innocent cause of her untimely passing. As a baby I had been brought up
in the lodge of Rougemont, my father's magnificent chateau near Vichy.
When I reached the age of four, I had been sent away to boarding-school.
After that, my life had been a succession of schools; first in France,
the adopted land of my father, then England, and finally St. Paul's in
America.
In all justice to my parent, I must admit he gave me every advantage
except the affection I would have cherished. By his own wish, I had
never seen him in life; nor would I see him in death, for a later cable
advised me that the funeral was over and his body already at rest in the
beautiful Gothic mausoleum he had had built in his lifetime, after the
manner of the ancients.
He had left me everything with only two injunctions, that a certain sum
of money be set aside to keep the chateau always in its present
condition and that I should spend at least half my time in it, and my
children after me--a condition I was only too pleased to accept. All my
life I had longed for a home.
I cabled at once that I would sail. A return cable brought me the news
that I had unlimited funds to draw upon. It was then that I urged
Wrexler to come with me.
* * * * *
Wrexler and I had been friends since the day when two lonely boys had
been put by chance into the same room at school. We were so utterly
unlike, it was perhaps the difference between us that held us together
through the years. At St. Paul's, and later at Princeton, Gordon Wrexler
had always been at the head of his class, whereas I inevitably tagged
along at the bottom. The contrast between us was expressed not only in
the color of our hair and eyes, but also in our dispositions. My
greatest gift from fate was a sense of humor, and I suppose it was this
quality of mine that particularly appealed to Wrexler. It seems as
though I was the only one who could lift him out of the despondency into
which he often plunged. As the years passed, and his tendency to
depression intensified, he came to depend more and more upon me, and we
grew closer together.
Strangely enough, the whiteness of his face and the gloom that exuded
from him did not detract from his good looks. It only added to them. For
the translucence of his skin made the thick, black hair that lay close
to his head all the darker, while at the same time it brought out the
deep black of his eyes, and the firm cut of his lips.
The night before we landed, we were standing on deck, at the rail,
looking over the side straining our eyes for the first glimpse of the
lights of Cherbourg, and Wrexler spoke of himself for the first time
since we had left New York.
"You know, Jim, for perhaps the only time in my life I feel at peace, as
though something that I should have done long ago has been at last
accomplished."
He was so solemn that I laughed a little. He stopped me suddenly: "It's
true--I've always felt an urge within me, a blinding force pushing me
toward something that is waiting for me: where, I do not know; what, I
have no idea. For the first time, it's gone--that nameless urge that I
knew not how to satisfy, and I feel that the call's being answered."
With the usual inanity of people at a loss for words, I said the first
thing that came into my mind: "Perhaps Rougemont has been calling you."
"You've no idea what a relief it is," he continued, "not to feel
constantly pulled with no way of knowing toward what, or how to go about
answering the summons. I have often thought that I should take my
life--that that was what was meant----" His voice trailed off.
This time I was not at a loss for words. I started to read him a lecture
that would have done credit to Martin Luther or John Knox. At the end of
my harangue Wrexler laughed, a rare thing for him, and put his arm
through mine.
"All that's gone now. Didn't I tell you that at last in some strange way
I am at peace?"
* * * * *
Rougemont's towers were visible long before we reached the great iron
gates that had to be swung open to let us pass. For miles the great
edifice dominated the landscape. The huge building had a soft, reddish
tinge, from which I supposed it derived its name--Red Mountain. It was a
fairy-tale palace perched on a mountain top. A great thrill went through
me as I realized that this beautiful chateau was mine, and as we drove
through the gates, up the winding road, through my own forest, the pride
of possession swelled up in me and for the first time I began to
understand why my father had never put his foot outside the great gates
and the high wall that enclosed the acres that now belonged to me.
As we drove on, up the winding, narrow road, over the drawbridge that
spanned the moat, into the courtyard, I understood more and more. Here
was everything: beauty such as I had never dreamed, forests stocked with
game, running brooks full of fish, a lake, and farther off, a farm--I
could glimpse its thatched roofs--to supply our wants. Rougemont was a
world in itself.
The high carved door was swung open as Wrexler and I got out of the car.
Monsieur de Carrier, my father's lawyer, advanced to meet us, a friendly
smile on his Santa Claus countenance. I shook hands, introduced Wrexler
as "a very good friend who is going to stay with me."
Monsieur Carrier's face fell. Clearly Wrexler's being with me was a
disappointment. Nevertheless, he greeted him politely, as he ushered us
in.
That moment Rougemont took me to its heart and won me for its own.
Imagine Amboise, or any of the great French chateaux, suddenly restored
to itself as it was in the days of the Medici, and you have a small idea
of Rougemont. For we had stepped out of the present into the past.
Carrier, Wrexler and I were anachronisms; everything else was in keeping
with the dead centuries. Even the servants were in doublet and hose of a
sort of cerulean blue, with great slashes puffed with crimson silk.
I think I gasped. At any rate, Monsieur Carrier saw my astonishment. "It
is your father's will, my boy. He always kept it so, and wore the
costume of former days, himself. He greatly admired the first Francis.
In your rooms you will find costumes prepared for you. For the last six
months of his life, he was making ready for his son." There was an odd
sort of pride in Carrier's voice.
I remembered now that my father had written for my measurements. I had
thought he meant to make me a present, but when time passed and I heard
nothing, the incident had slipped from my mind. I looked at Wrexler,
expecting to see some sign of amusement on his face, but he stood
quietly looking at the tapestry that hung half-way up the grand
stairway. There was a dreamy, far-away expression in his eyes.
"May I speak before your friend?" Carrier asked.
I nodded. The servants had already disappeared with our luggage. I threw
myself down on a long, low bench, and Carrier sat opposite me.
"You understood the terms of your father's will, of course," Carrier
began, "that you must live here six months, but you did not know that
you must live here, as he did, in the past. If you do not, then
Rougemont goes to your father's steward, with the same conditions--to be
kept always as it is; with only a small sum set aside for you."
I said nothing. Driving along the road from Paris, it would have seemed
fantastic, but here--under the spell of Rougemont--it seemed as though
anything else would be impossible.
* * * * *
Carrier went on, "You will be Grand Seigneur--Lord of the Manor, in the
old style. You may have your guests if you like, but they too must
conform with the rules." Here he glanced at Wrexler, who still stood as
though he were in a trance. "The other six months you are free to do as
you please, spend what you like of the money not needed for
Rougemont--that is, _if you want to go anywhere else_."
Evidently he had finished his speech. At the time I did not recognize
the significance of his last words. "I am willing to submit to the
conditions; only"--a sudden thought struck me--"I don't want to lose all
touch with the outside world. Can I go to Vichy--to get papers and so
forth? I don't suppose they had papers in Francis First's time."
Monsieur de Carrier smiled. "My dear boy, your father didn't wish to
make a prisoner of you. You may go to Vichy if you like. But you must
not be away from Rougemont more than twenty-four consecutive hours
during the six months you are in residence.
"So far as the papers, etc., are concerned, they will be at the lodge.
There is also a telephone, and your own clothes will be kept there.
After tonight, nothing of 1935 must come within these halls, but you are
free to go to the lodge any time you want to. You can get in touch with
me also, if you desire further information. De Lacy, the steward, will
look out for you. He knows your father's ways. Now permit me to
congratulate you and say _au revoir_, my young friend."
Monsieur de Carrier got up on his stubby fat legs, made a little bow to
me, another to Wrexler which went unheeded.