Chapter 3

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"Deshtapto te romene!" The menacing and sad melody snapped me out of my sleep better than a kick. "Dean somnool chel de mo-arte!"

Before I realize what was happening, I was on my feet, head-spinning to find the source of the sound and trying to untangle the bedspread I'd wrapped crosswise to escape the draft. The reason for my emergency awakening was found on the nightstand next to the bed.

Alarm clock. Large, heavy, in a sturdy wooden case.

With the Romanian anthem as the signal. The first line, "Wake up, Romanian, from your dead sleep" is very appropriate to the occasion, and the music is beautiful, but... The next line is about "barbarian tyrants" is very ambiguous.

Without deciding whether this was an elaborate mockery or a sincere attempt to flatter the national sense (one would expect from the locals, patriotism is in honor here), I decided that I would sleep no more. Especially since the great ancestors have nothing to be proud of. It's time to get down to business!

First, I washed my face.

It's hard to surprise a guy from a provincial Moldovan town with a basin and a jug of water, but the lack of proper plumbing... Although remember how an acquaintance bought a two-story apartment with a view of the Kremlin and lived there for a month without a sewage system, I was happy. I had a pot. A big one, with a neat lid. I even hesitated, but the enclosed roll of modern toilet paper convinced me that it was meant to be.

When I had finished, I went to the window and looked out, leaning against the rugged stone of the ancient walls. Everything was just as von Schnitze had described - the view, the air, the beauty of the landscape. Except that the old crook had omitted certain details.

Yes, the castle stands on a rock, and the baron's chambers are also on the penultimate floor of the main building. This means that you have to go up and down five or six floors a hundred times every day. By the way - the smell of the sea is great, but in such quantities, it's called otherwise! The other side of the tower, according to the maps, overlooks a picturesque cove, where the local fishermen are based, but from here it is not visible - roofs, rooftops, roofs, lots of greenery, a piece of the castle wall, and an empty castle courtyard. It's so fucking interesting! And to top it all off - dank. For a heat-loving person like me, the local sixteen to seventeen degrees with high (the sea, after all!) humidity is a bit uncomfortable conditions.

But come on, I've had funnier situations. So, what do I have?

I am considered the baron and master of the castle, and no one is bothered by the fact that I have not been here for almost a quarter of a century. I have a steward, a rather shifty old man, a local historian. The castle is my property because I am of the noble family of Mogila, which, as I recall, has been extinct since the eighteenth century. These same noble now and then ruled, then fought with the rulers, the hell with them - how do I behave with the people? Considering that I am a savage from a distant country?

Well, first I have to look at the people.

Moldavia, Romania, Russia - hence the images merge, so to any inconsistency I simply say that this is the way we do things. Let them look for where this "we" is. In general, I only know about Romania, that there is a famous reserve of dragons. I remember from a book I read to my eldest at night. True, the book is for children, but here they may not know. Dracula is still a book character, but a historical person, so dragons may well be found. Are there any boyars? Yes, I am an example! Well, and with the rest of the mythical fauna as well. So a dragon on a personal emblem!

Mm-hmm, crawling out of a pit.

I will not impugn the real coat of arms of the Mogila family - there is a standard "Moldovan bull" for our places. And life has taught me not to act like a bull. Well, I will say that in connection with the temporary occupation of Bessarabia, the family had to go into the shadows, and therefore a lot of knowledge is lost. I only remember the red field and the motto - "You can't take it!" or something like that, and then let them make it up for themselves.

Having come to terms with myself, I looked around the room with a master's eye.

The overall impression is that it's neat but poor. That is, in the local tradition. Kicking the door to the office where von Schnitze had excused himself yesterday, I took a big step forward and looked around at about two dozen people with cameras.

"Gott dag, Your Grace." After bowing and immediately turning his back to me, the old man continued his tour. "This is Mr. Baron himself. The noblemen of the Mogila family had a marked influence on south-eastern Europe in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and we are glad that such an ancient family happened to own our place. Mr. Baron is permanently residing at the castle this summer, but he should not be disturbed.

The manager did not notice my stern look, apparently thinking that he had said everything correctly. A few of the ladies looked at me in an appraising way. Well, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, my belly wasn't hanging down, my underwear had no holes. I should have worn socks, but it's too late to be regretful.

"Gott dag, Egelbert, as soon as you have finished, report to me immediately."

"Yes, Your Grace. If everyone will follow me, we're going to the refectory." The tourists obediently strode toward the exit, nodding affectionately at me. One lady, as she left, flipped her expensive camera lens up and down to try it on, and then snapped.

Judging by the direction of the scope, she was interested in my belly button.

It's a good thing I'm not in the habit of walking around naked after washing. Although it is unlikely that these can be surprised in such a way, they go for the impressions, and here - this! A living baron in his natural habitat!

By the way, I might as well go to the refectory. Or should I let the tourists feed me? Through the bars of the cage?

Von Schnitze returned when I was finishing another chapter of the "Self-Study for Beginning Feudal Lords," overcoming my hunger. And immediately he reported:

"The next tour is in three hours."

"How many tours per day?"

"Two on weekdays and three on weekends, but can be ordered separately."

"How much is Eskenland antiquity these days?"

"Five euros for an hour tour. In Eskeborg they charge ten, but the exhibits are much better preserved there."

The old man sighed dejectedly and shook his head.

"Is there a fee for lunch in the refectory?"

"Uh... we don't feed anybody there at all. It's been about eighty years."

"Souvenir Shop?"

"In the yard, next to the workshops." There was a new note in the manager's voice. "Do you have something to offer?"

"Let's go for breakfast... How long have you been up?"

"As always, since five in the morning."

Hard worker. It's okay, he's not asking for money, so let him work!

"Do we have national food?"

The old man was panting indignantly, but before he could answer, I interrupted:

"Great. The refectory sells breakfast for the road, consisting of local delicacies. Choose something scarier. They'll work up an appetite running up and down the stairs. So offer it for the road. Consider packaging so they can eat it on the bus."

"On the way back, when there is no point in claiming the original taste of the local delicacies. Although where is the variety here? Potatoes and fish, perhaps?"

"That's is. However, everything was fresh, so I was satisfied with my breakfast."

"Egelbert, why hasn't anyone in twenty years asked where the Baron is?"

"What for, your Grace?"

"Enough with the "Grace" already. In private, we are just Alexandr and Egelbert, okay?"

The old man bowed with dignity.

"Thank you, Alexander. Is that what for? I'm the manager, I got my orders, and I'm carrying them out. Why should anyone care how I got it? That would be interfering in someone else's life."

Blessed places. Practically the Garden of Eden! In my homeland, every janitor wants to know what you are, how you are, and why you are here. And point out what you're wrong about.

"In addition, of the twelve baronies of Esk land, only six remained in the hands of local natives, while the rest were bought by all sorts of people. Sometimes very busy, and therefore unable... ...or have no desire... to come here in person."

"Do you have the papers ready?"

There were eight shelves of thick binders. It's okay, I've handled more than that!

The first shock was that the old man had never had a raise in his salary in twenty-three years! No, I could tell you a dozen ways to make black money. But somehow I believed that he had never done anything like that.

Then - "the gradual restoration of the castle and territory. What the hell is "restoration"? The pictures of the early nineties show only the bare stone walls! The accuracy of the reports reached "2 cents a year for the tap gaskets", with a detailed list of where the gaskets were used, how much they were replaced, and how much they cost for their disposal.

Yeah, that's where they ought to award a "Hero of Labor" star. Should I invent an award for cases like this?

An hour later, I slammed down another folder.

"Not bad, Egilbert, not bad at all."

"Are you... already?"

The old man looked at me, then at the folders, and dropped a hint:

"Maybe you should take a closer look at the invoices."

"Von Schnitze, if I say "that's it," I mean "that's it". That's all I've been doing the last few years is fiddling with documents. I'm sick of it."

"As you say, Mr. Baron!" On sensing the tone, the steward immediately stretched out at attention. "Would you like to go around the castle?"

"Let's do it. Not a tour, but a full inspection of the estate."

The castle consisted of the main building, i.e. the donjon, two towers, five smaller houses between two hundred and six hundred years old, outbuildings such as a smithy or a former stable, and dungeons of indeterminate length. All this was surrounded by a solid wall with two gateways.

Two houses were occupied by tenants, but they even had a separate entrance.

The inside of the castle did not stand out in any way - long corridors painted in two colors, worn stone, not ennobled in any way by drapes or frescoes. In some places, there was no plaster, only brutal bare masonry.

We finished our rounds at the local prisons. It was a nice prison, clean and spacious. The bunks are comfortable, there are bars in the doors, and there are five cells on one side of the corridor.

"It's cozy, and it's quite possible to rent to students who aren't wealthy. It's a bit dark, but that's okay."

"Uh... There used to be a wine cellar here, but I decided that for the sake of presentation the tourists should..."

"Reasonable, Egelbert, very reasonable. What would an ancient castle be without a sinister prison full of innocent prisoners? Where, by the way, is the prison located?"

Five minutes later, I stared blankly in front of me, trying to understand how anyone could live in this. A closet, a real wall closet! It wasn't enough space to dig underneath, you couldn't even straighten up. And I thought, that fifteen people for an eight-person cell was cramped!

In the torture room, behind the heavy metal door, there was a nice set of tools for "in-depth work with data bearers".

"Do you bring tourists here?"

I stroked the yoke and smiled dreamily. Von Schnitze shivered nervously for some reason.

"We used to, but the Department of Tourism demanded..."

"You have my permission. Bring it in. By the way, bring some paint in here, let the visitors smear "blood" on each other for an extra fee, and take pictures. Also, let's do this..."

Von Schnitze, quickly snatching up a notebook, wrote down proposals. Apparently, the Eskenlander's soul rejoiced at every opportunity to make money... Well, I don't mind.

"Now the main thing - what do we have in the accounts?"

The old man immediately hesitated, though I had already realized there was no money.

"Alas, as I said, this kind of property requires a lot of..."

"Yes? Then from tomorrow morning introduce an additional paid service to the tour program - breakfast with the owner of the castle."

At the same time, I will be fed on time.

"I wanted to suggest it, Mr. Baron, but..."

"You don't have to be shy, especially in such cases."

Actually, my thoughts on where the proceeds would go were probably different from the manager's fantasies. But why upset the old man by talking about it out loud? It's a nice castle, though! It's a stark old nest... what is it, a pirate's nest?

I suddenly felt like doing something crazy.

So, it looks like Sasha Mogila is waking up! Stop, stop... Not the time to disturb ghosts, I'll tear this quiet province to pieces!

Having put aside the desire to cheer and try on the armor found in the "hall of chivalry," I continued:

"Who's on staff right now?"

"I and my youngest son, his wife, and kids help him. They are on vacation now. Our family, according to the treaty with the barons, has the right to occupy the entire south tower. The treaty was signed two hundred and twelve years ago, technically we are not vassals of the barons, we are managers of the castle. I dare say our family is doing quite well?"

I just raised an eyebrow and nodded in agreement.

"Who else?"

"Three of the museum's employees are guards. The cook, Madame van Storre. There used to be two farmers, but they left after the referendum. They had a referendum in their country recently, too, and they thought that somehow the shooting was going to start here."

"Farmers? What did they do?"

"There is a farm at the castle... I expected to be able to recreate a complete picture of life in a medieval castle. A blacksmith shop and pottery, with souvenirs, our produce, a vegetable garden, sheep and pigs..."

"Don't you have relatives in Romania?"

"Excuse me? No, I'm a native esk."

That's strange. I must have imagined it.

I looked around the courtyard, and there were two servants in the corner, hesitating to speak to their superiors. There were ringing voices on the wall, and a hammer was banging somewhere. I opened my mouth, but at that moment the Enemy entered the castle through the main gate.

They are recognizable in every form. They are stamped in the depths of hell and an emanation of pain and horror surrounds them forever. He walked like an evil dead man from a terrible fairy tale. Where he passed, smiles disappeared, lights went out, children began to cry... When he reached me, the small, stout man in a gray suit nodded affectionately and quickly wiped his bald head with his handkerchief.

"Gott dag, Herr Baron! Allow me to introduce myself. Tax Inspector Otto Schreiber. I have a few questions for you personally and for your..." He flashed his eyes ominously in the direction of Egelbert, "...manager."

"Questions?"

"Oh, there's no question about that. I didn't put it right, you see. I know for a fact that you have a serious deficiency"

All desire to remain a simple deputy director suddenly disappeared.

"Egelbert, what is it in our laws about taxes? Who has the right to collect it?!"

"Complicated question. Definitely, you will have to give part of the income to your superior, just at the moment..."

"Can this person be considered as a servant of my duke?"

"Come on, it's not..."

"Guards!"

The inspector smiled indulgently as he listened to us.

"I'm afraid," a serpentine smile slid across his thin lips. "I'll have to report it to my superiors."

"Von Schnitze, was it a threat?"

"What are you talking about, Baron!"

"And I say it's a threat. Guards!"

Two men in uniforms approached, squinting warily at me and the guest.

"This one, for insulting my noble person, I sentence him to two months' imprisonment. Take him to his cell!"

They were worried, but they grabbed him quickly and immediately dragged him away. The inspector, not understanding what was going on, just opened his mouth. They're not the only ones who torture people, are they? There must be retribution someday. At the very door to the basement, the official finally screamed, grabbed the doorjamb, and started demanding something. The guards turned around, saw my affirmative nod, and without paying attention jerked the victim into the castle. The sound of the door closing behind them caused in my soul an incomprehensible satisfaction. I think I'm going to be a real Raubritter! Not even just a ritter, but a robber baron! I would rob passersby, tyrannize peasants, and produce pirated copies of popular albums!

Von Schnitze, having recovered from his shock, finally appealed to my sanity:

"But this is a state tax official!"

"No problem, old friend. As soon as a man from his master appears, explains the reason for the servant's insolent behavior, and brings the necessary ransom, we will release the prisoner."

"His master?"

"Yeah. The one this guy swore an oath of allegiance to."

"Maybe in your homeland it is so, but in our country..."

"Then he stays there."

I took a folder out from under his arm, pulled out a book, found a quote I remembered from yesterday, and read it out loud:

"A commoner, when meeting a baron, was obliged to take off his hat and bow. Does this inspector have noble roots?"

"Ahem..."

"Otherwise he could expect a fine, a whip, and sometimes the gallows." I turned the book to the stunned old man. "Understand me please, I am not a beast, to send a man... even a tax collector, under the lash, or even to the gallows. It's too much, isn't it?"

Von Schnitze nodded hesitantly.

"And if I forgive one, tomorrow there will be ten of them on my neck. What am I supposed to do? The first offense, it's better to just lock him up to think about his behavior. The second time, you could be flogged for disrespecting the authorities. And only on the third time, perhaps, to hang. Even if you really want to do it right away, the first time."

Egelbert was silent for a long time, looking for and refuting more and more arguments, then he shrugged:

"If you look at the problem from this side, everything makes sense. Only what will they say in his department? Very serious people work there!"

"Then let them know that as a result of the inspector's violation of one of our new old laws, it was necessary, in compliance with formal procedures, to allow him to inspect the work of the museum more closely. Let them make out an overseas assignment since we insist that he should be the one to do it. And add that we are not complaining, we will even provide him with free room and board, but we ask him to take the fact of Eskenland's independence more seriously from now on and to respect our ancient customs."

"Mr. Baron, what if he files a complaint? This is an international conflict!"

"A complaint? All right, let's do this. First, he's not allowed to send any letters until the end of his sentence. Take away his phone, too. Second - announce that any citizen or tourist can visit the castle, and for a small fee to throw at the tax collector something not too traumatic or lightly hit with a stick. In return, promise him a third of the dues when he gets out of prison. But only when he has served his full term!"

"He might not agree!"

"Then we'll hang him as an impostor. A real taxman never gives up money."

The manager grimaced but nodded in agreement.

"And by the way - since we're paying him, let him work it off in full! For example, let him complain loudly that we feed him only herring and don't let him drink!"

"What if he refuses to do that?"

"If he refuses, we'll start really feeding him herring and not let him drink. Until he agrees."

"You have very strange methods of persuading business partners."

"I learned it in my homeland. You'll see more of this in Romania!"

Damn, I should at least read something about this "ancestral land" of me. There's a library in the castle; I saw it when we went through it. True, there were no new books, but still, it's at least something to start.

"Okay. Von Schnitze?"

The old man, who was looking at the door leading to the prison with a strange expression on his face, flinched and turned to me.

"Did you say something about farmers? Why do we need farmers?"

"Yes, indeed... we don't need anymore. I can't handle it, and it's pretty hard to hire new ones right now."

It turned out that the son of the manager planted the idea to realize not only the visual but also other pictures of the past. Taste, and, most importantly, smell - by recreating in the literal sense of the word "atmosphere of the past". So now there were several units of "smell-givers" in the stable, brought from one of the surrounding farms. But there was no one to take care of them. All of the castle's inhabitants turned out to be hardened townsfolk, at best former fishermen.

"Egelbert, I'm basically a country boy! Handle the milking of four cows..."

"And the five goats."

"And five goats for a couple of days until we find a replacement - I'll manage somehow! Let's go!"

I wasn't at so confident in myself, since the last time I had pulled udders (cows, of course) was back in high school. But for some reason, I suddenly felt like it!

Ten minutes later, streams were beating into a bucket exactly like the one we had at home. And the irreverent cow kept wagging her tail at her baron.

"The hands remember it! Huh?!"

It was at that moment that the phone rang. Once again waving off the mad cow, I pulled out my cell phone, put it on speakerphone, and...

"Dad! Hi!"

"Hi, Lena! How is my winner?"

"Coooool! And I'm only second!

"Well done!"

"Anka says you've gone somewhere?"

"Yes, for a couple of weeks." Von Schnitze, standing next to me, sighed heartbreakingly. "Is your mother taking you somewhere?"

"Ma... Ma, give it back!"

There you go. She's waiting outside the door for them, isn't she?

"Elka, you bastard, let me talk to the kid!"

"Where are you? Lenka has to go to the camp, and you could..."

And just at that moment...

"Sasha... what is that sound?"

The cow, as bad as it was, responded instantly with another mooing. She must have felt a soul mate!

"I'm just inspecting the castle barn."

"Inspecting? You've come a long way! Going to work with the cows? And you want to take your daughters to run across fresh manure?!"

The rest of her monologue was interrupted only by the mooing of cows and the bleating of goats. I was told everything that had accumulated over the last month (since the last time), I was told my place in the world (not high, but no one doubted it), I was promised to sue and send to work (already in my native land) and so on.

All this was listened to by a blushing and pale Egelbert. And totally indifferent cows and goats. I, as usual, let it pass my ear. Finally, after another shriek, I inserted "Lenka, I'll call you later. Heard a distant "Bye, Daddy!" and finally finished with the last, particularly restless goat, turned off the phone. Poured milk into the lid of a can and nodded to the beast watching from the dark corner for a long time.

The cat stared warily at the full lid of steamed milk, then looked up at me. I closed my eyes permissively. When I opened them, the lid was already half empty.

Half an hour later, after checking on the animals and removing their waste (though I had to convince myself that this sparkling clean wheelbarrow was really for manure), I went out into the yard, sat down on a bench by the wall, and started scratching behind the ear of a contented cat.

"Ahm?"

"Egelbert?"

The manager, who had fled closer to the third cow, stood embarrassed beside the animal.

"It seemed to me that your ex-wife is a bit..."

"Yeah, she's a bitch. I believe, Egilbert, that all evil comes from a woman!"

"But you have two daughters, as far as I know?"

"I'll raise them to be real men!" If, of course, I could wrestle them out of the clutches of my ex. So far I have not succeeded for a long time, but what if the barons, in this case, are stronger than the deputy directors?

"So your marriage was a failure?"

"Yeah. Usually, girls love me, though. This beauty, for example." I scratched the cat behind the ear. "She's so clingy, she just walked in and laid her eyes on me. And her tail. And her paw.

"I'm sorry to grieve you, Baron, but it's a male cat."

"I picked up the relaxed beast, looked under its tail. It was indeed a male."

"And besides you, there is hardly anyone who is delighted with its existence."

"Why?"

"He appeared in the castle a month ago and has already managed to displease everyone. At first, he is affectionate and purrs..."

"A lot of people are like that. What's his name?"

"'That cat.' But more often it's 'furry bastard'. Although I must admit, he respects you for some reason."

Well, yeah, he knows he won't get away just with a slap in the face.

I looked at the squinting cat, he gave me an innocent look and we turned away at the same time.

"I think we'll get along with him."

Meanwhile, a clinking sound was heard behind me. I looked around lazily and immediately jumped up with the cat - von Schnitze was pouring out the milk, tilting the bucket!

"What are you doing?!"

"It was obtained in violation of EU health regulations, it should be destroyed."

I walked over, put my arm around his shoulders, and hinted:

"Von Schnitzel, we not in the EU anymore. In the fridge, now. Offer it to tomorrow's group of tourists as a "natural product"! Don't forget to add that Mr. Baron himself doesn't hesitate to take part in the making! Oh, and add something for diarrhea to the assortment of souvenir shops. Triple price."

Not all milk is equally useful. City dwellers don't always know this.

The day was slowly approaching evening, and it was time to go to bed. An early morning milking seemed to be an enduring reality for me for the next few days. Well, better to clean manure for the cows than stand in an hour-long traffic jam... Especially since after the cows, the baronial castle would be waiting for me, not the office.

After dinner, I went down to the "prison" without an escort.

Schreiber, at the sight of me, jumped up and shook the bars of the cell.

"This is arbitrary and kidnapping!"

"Name?"

"Erdar Fisk, Herr Baron. Working here, well..." The huge "guard" even pulled off his hat, starting to crumple it in his hands.

"Was he naughty?"

Fisk looked back at the indignant hissing taxman and shrugged:

"Not so much."

"Bandits!"

"Only hissed and tried to bite when I brought him a blanket."

"Won't it freeze up?"

"Murderers!"

"I sleep here sometimes when... Well, my spouse... you know."

"Sure. Can you stay on duty all night?"

"Rapists!"

Fisk and I turned around in surprise, and Schreiber, realized that he had shouted something wrong, was embarrassed.

"Of course. I live here at the castle. Herr von Schnitze gave us an apartment in the servants' house. It would have cost much more in the city, it's a profitable place. And then there's the castle."

For some reason, he was utterly embarrassed. Well, the "unfortunate prisoner" is fed, watered, provided with a bed, and in case of need will not be left without help. A splendid condition! But why not say good night to him?

You, my dear fellow, wouldn't make so much noise!" I looked around and, with exaggerated concern, leaning against the bars of the bars warned. "Careful, it can be uncomfortable here at night.

"I'm not scared of anything! What could be wrong with it? An ordinary tourist attraction! But keep in mind, when I come out..."

Leaning against the bars and smiling as broadly as possible, I answered:

"Will you come out? When you are carried out, my dear. Do you know such a country as Transylvania?"

"Well, yes, of course. Dracula once ruled there, everyone knows that!"

"Do you know where this country is?"

"Well... In Hungary?"

"Almost right. Romania! That's where the whole Mogila clan came from. Has anyone ever told you how the surname is translated in the local language? Good night, my friend, my sweet," I sniffed demonstratively, "full-blooded friend... Not all of you are sucking blood, it's our time too! Good night and sweet dreams!"

As I walked away, he gave a shallow baptism. The guard seemed to be close to it, too. Ah, these Northerners, they're such romantics!

The moon that peeked out of the window met me lying on the creaky bed, diagonally again. Apparently, they lie about Scandinavian giants. The only way to sleep on such a bed was to sit or, like me, askew.

What was so good about today? Nothing, as a matter of fact. There was no money, I would have to work, and von Schnitze had been cleverly avoiding the question of my judicial duties all day.

Of course, I overreacted with the tax collector, but that's the beauty of it, nobody can charge me with anything. If, of course, I understood correctly what was going on. But the official structures will show their presence in two or three days, and until then...

I looked around the corner with my hand outstretched toward the alarm clock. Something dark, gloomy, with ominous slowness, was approaching me, preparing to leap. Here the incomprehensible shadow shrank for a leap, and a moment later...

"Meow?"

I let go of the "weapon. I'll crack it in the morning.

The cat softly jumped onto the bed, strolled from head to toe, stomped on my chest, and lay down, tickling me with his whiskers.

"What, you wild creature from the ancient castle, are you reaching for my neck, under the cover of night? Well, like for like. You will be... Ghoul. Agreed?"

"Mrrr."

The wind rustled through the cracks in the shutters, and the silence was unbelievable to a city dweller! My last thought was, for some reason, 'If I was born in the empire, I'd rather live in a remote province by the sea. Lucky.'

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"In bookstores of Northern Europe, there is an increased demand for books on historical subjects. Readers are especially interested in books describing ancient customs and legends..."

Das Bokanmeldelse

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