Act 9: The Oathbreaker (Part 7)
seven
The Golden Horn Bay at night was not as bustling and noisy as it was during the day. Yakov led his horse out stealthily and quietly made his way along the silent cobblestone path, heading towards the waves. He looked up at the gate of Yubi's villa—the luxurious two-story house was completely dark, not a single lamp was lit, and every balcony and window was pitch black.
It's getting late, Yakov thought. I've come back too late; they're all asleep. But aren't vampires more lively and active at night? The sunlight has imprisoned Yubi all day; how can someone as energetic as him endure being confined to a dark room at night?
The lamp in his hand spurred his horse forward, leading him into the garden. The first person Yakov encountered was Naya—"My master must still be awake." He dismounted and handed the lamp to the slave girl. "Why don't you light a candle?"
An unknown fear seemed to envelop Naya, causing her to lower her head and tremble. "Master said he doesn't need light," she stammered. "He forbids us from lighting lamps."
Yakov felt a pang of unease and snatched the lamp back from the slave girl's hands. "How can you see anything without a lamp?" he snapped, stomping heavily into the entryway. "He doesn't need it, and neither do you?"
Naya fell silent, following closely behind the light in Yakov's hand—the only source of light in the room, both dazzling and precious. Yakov removed his boots and stepped barefoot onto the carpet on the marble floor. A sweet yet spicy aroma of spices wafted through the drawing room, spreading to his nostrils along with a thin mist. Yakov heard the sound of flowing hot spring water and saw that the balcony was already covered with thick curtains—he wanted to reprimand the slaves again, but then thought they were quite competent.
The candle in his hand burned bright red, illuminating the fountain in the center of the reception room.
His master, dressed in an extremely thin silk robe, floated in the hot water. His black hair and sleeves swayed in the current, like soft spiderwebs being scattered by the wind. The water was tinged crimson by the light in Yakov's hands, and his pale limbs looked as if they were soaking in a pool of blood, as if the corpse had been preserved only by being nourished by blood.
“You’re back!” Yubi got up from the pool and smiled at him. “I heard you when you were at the door. I bet Schumeer he didn’t believe me.”
Yakov then noticed that their Jewish friend was sitting on the couch by the pool, hidden there like a statue. "My ears aren't as sharp as yours!" Schumeer grinned, his mouth beneath his bandages. "Even if Yakov were standing right in front of me, I wouldn't see him."
“I know much more than that.” Yubi climbed out of the pool, soaking wet, his robes clinging to his body like a cicada’s wing. “For example, Yakov’s heart is pounding.”
Yakov was speechless. He immediately understood why the room was pitch black—a vampire and a blind man, one avoiding the light, the other ignoring it. For some reason, he felt mocked, as if his privacy had been violated, and a small surge of anger made him slam the candlestick down, making it clang against the stone bricks. "Go and light all the lights in the room," he commanded Naya, turning to her. "Don't listen to him again, and don't let it stay dark."
“Why do we have to light the lamp?” Yubi grabbed Naya. The slave girl stopped in her tracks, embarrassed, and looked at Yakov for help. “I think it’s more interesting without the lamp.”
Yakov noticed the female slave's wrist shivering from the vampire's body heat. "...Because I am a Templar Knight," he said hoarsely, "the Templar Knights' quarters must be lit all night."
Yubi squinted at him, seemingly trying to glean something from every subtle expression on Yakov's face. "Alright, light the lamp if you want," he said, releasing Naya and then chuckling as he spoke to Schumeer.
“Look at him.” Two sharp teeth were visible beneath his lips. “Of the three of us, only he needs the light!”
While Yubi was putting on his armor, Yakov unfastened the leather straps of his neck and shoulder armor and pulled the obsidian-backed ruby ring from his chest by the hemp rope. The hard ring was warm from his body heat, as if it had been baked by fire, baked by the sun, or newly carved from a volcano.
Yakov carefully held it in his palm, gazing at the blood-red gem. Lost in thought, Yubi came running up, carrying an expensive long scroll. Yakov saw him and silently tucked the ring back into his shirt.
“You’ve come back so late; you must have been busy with a lot of things at the Knights.” His master spread the scroll out in front of him with a show of pride. “Schumel and I haven’t been idle either, you see.”
Yakov's gaze followed his finger—the scroll was covered with a dense array of complex Greek words, some he recognized and some he didn't, like a list, complete with numbers and place names. "It's a spice list," Yubi explained when he saw Yakov frown. "We've compiled a list of the spices that are currently popular, noting their origins and prices. If you want to open a shop, you'll need all of this."
Yakov stared at the letters, his vision blurring and his head throbbing. "...This is too difficult, I can't understand it." He reluctantly pinched his brow, "I can't possibly remember it without your explanation."
“I knew even Aristotle himself couldn’t possibly understand all this after just a few months of study,” Schumeer said, sitting opposite them, sipping his brown sugar coffee. “If my eyesight were still good, I could draw diagrams for you. Too bad…”
“I’ll explain it to you,” Yubi interrupted Schumer’s self-pitying ramblings, forcefully drawing Yakov’s attention back. “This is ambergris, formed from the saliva of sea monsters; this is castoreum, made from the glands of a castoreum’s genitals.” His fingernails moved back and forth on the paper. “I’ve already told you about these two of my favorites, so I won’t go into detail. Remember the rest:”
"This is cinnamon. You can only get it by finding the nest of the cinnamon bird. It's a giant bird that only nests on the steepest cliffs. People have to kill horses for meat and have the cinnamon bird carry the horse meat to its nest, which will break the branches on the cliff, and then they can get the cinnamon from the fallen nest."
"This is pepper, and there are two kinds: black and white. Pepper trees mostly grow under waterfalls, and the surrounding forests are guarded by poisonous snakes. If you are brave, you can kill the snakes and take the pepper, which will be raw white pepper; if you value your life, you can set the mountain on fire to drive the snakes away. While the fire is extinguished and the snakes have not yet returned to their nests, you can take the opportunity to go into the forest and take the roasted pepper, which will be cooked black pepper. White pepper is more expensive than black pepper, but the price difference is not significant."
"This is dragon's blood. It's the blood that congeals when elephants and dragons fight. Dragons are cold-blooded, elephants are hot-blooded. When the two blood mix, they create this magical fragrance. Besides being used as a spice, it's also a top-quality pigment, a vibrant reddish-brown like blood."
"This is myrrh. The myrrh tree grows in the east, on a sacred island. A kind of phoenix nests in the tree and only rebirths once every few hundred years..."
“Stop,” Yakov couldn’t help but question. “What you’ve written isn’t a spice list, it’s more like an adventure storybook.”
“Otherwise, why would spices be so expensive?” Yubi looked at him with a troubled expression. “That’s how they come about.”
“But I can’t go up the cliff to retrieve the bird’s nest or burn the snakes under the waterfall myself.” Yakov stared at him. “Even if there were a fleet, we could only buy spices from the merchants who did these things. And most of the merchants didn’t do these things themselves; they had their own slaves and hired hands.”
Schumeer, on the other side, let out a sigh.
"...So you're saying what we've compiled is useless?" Yubi clicked her tongue.
“How could it be useless?” Schumeer comforted him. “Once your shop opens, you can tell these stories to your customers. It’s just that Yakov doesn’t need these things.”
"Then what do you need?" Yubi reluctantly straightened the scroll. "We'll organize it for you tomorrow."
"...That's not how it's done. We can't think about what should be, but what can be," Yakov said sternly. "I looked at the Knights' routes today, and they lead neither to any sacred spice islands nor to waterfalls and cliffs. Their branches mostly sail west to ports in Italy and Spain, east to Acre and Alexandria, and at most to the Red Sea. We should send someone to the markets there to find merchants, see what they sell, and compare their prices plus shipping costs with those in Constantinople."
“That’s the lowest level of labor,” Schumacher retorted. “We should find a way to tell stories and legends, draw pretty patterns, raise the price of existing spices, and sell them to people who are willing to listen to stories.”
“What’s the difference between that and fraud!” Yubi retorted to Schumeer. “I understand fragrances. I should hire people to study blending, extraction, distillation, and grinding, using the best equipment and the finest raw materials. That way, the perfumes and essential oils produced will be the most exquisite, and naturally, they can fetch a good price!”
A brief silence fell over the hall as all three stopped talking, ceasing their pointless arguments.
“We’re all right,” Schumeer broke the ice first. “Who says these three things can’t be done together?”
“That’s right,” Yubi said.
“Hmm,” Yakov replied.
“Don’t be so sad. Since I can’t paint, let me tell you a story to help you relax.” Schumeer put down his cup and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a story about the origin of the myrrh tree. See if you can add it to your list.”
Naya added spices to the incense burner, and wisps of fragrant steam rose from the burner's opening. Yakov felt the sweet yet spicy aroma had become even stronger, making him inexplicably irritated.
“This story is about a god who represents spring and life, beauty and sin,” Schumeer began, “whose name was Adonis, and who was an exceptionally handsome man.”
"His mother was a princess of Cyprus, renowned for her beauty. However, the queen praised her daughter as more beautiful than Aphrodite, incurring the jealousy of Aphrodite, who cursed her to fall in love with her own father. The innocent girl thus fell into an unfounded infatuation with the king, yet dared not cross the line of propriety. So she disguised herself as another woman and spent the night in her father's bed..."
Yet another despicable story, Yakov thought. These Greeks have done all sorts of vile things, yet they always boast of their nobility and superiority. Suddenly, a pair of cold hands wrapped around his neck from behind, making his hair stand on end.
"Do you want your ring?" Yakov asked in a low voice. "It's hanging around my neck."
“No, I’m just so hungry!” Yubi whispered in his ear. “I’ve been thinking all day that if you hadn’t come back, I would have gone hungry all night again…”
Hungry? Yakov felt a surge of absurdity. "Shumer is still here!" he warned Yubi. "Now, really?"
“He’s blind, he can’t see what we’re doing!” Yubi replied, as if he were a heartless monster. “You can eat whenever you’re hungry, but I can’t?”
The collar of his chainmail was pulled open. Yakov sighed, feeling the fragrance lingering in the hall drain his strength, leaving him helplessly silent, looking at Schumeer across from him, who seemed completely unaware. The blind Jew continued telling his story.
"The princess was eventually discovered by her father. The king, enraged, drew his sword to kill his shameless daughter. In desperation, the princess fled and sought help from the gods. She eventually escaped to an island in Lebanon, where the gods transformed her into a myrrh tree. This is the origin of the myrrh tree; the princess wept year-round, just like the resin of the myrrh tree…"
A cold breath brushed against Yakov's neck. He tilted his head, staring blankly at the still pool beside him. It was like a mirror, reflecting him, and the devil's image behind him, in a distorted way. The devil sniffed at his skin. "Today I had Naya burn musk," the devil said. "This incense is made from the congealed blood of the male musk deer's heart; it has aphrodisiac and blood-activating effects, making your blood taste better..."
Yakov felt he had only himself to blame. In the water, Yubi opened its mouth like a venomous snake, two chilling fangs pressed against his neck—this was the first time Yakov had ever witnessed such a horrific sight. He was paralyzed.
"Though the princess was transformed into a myrrh tree, she was already pregnant with her father's child. The fetus grew within the tree and eventually burst forth. This child, born of sin, was more radiant and stunning than his mother; he was none other than the handsome Adonis. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, took a liking to him at first sight and entrusted him to Persephone, the queen of the underworld, to raise. But as he grew, Persephone also fell in love with him..."
The fangs pierced Yakov's skin and embedded themselves in his veins. The vampire, accustomed to the pain, endured it without a sound. He was held firmly by Yubi's frail limbs, as if roots were taking hold and growing within his body along the two bloody holes—but Yakov stared at the mirror-like surface of the water, where the vampire had clearly already pulled out his fangs, only moving his tongue and lips, wriggling and licking the blood flowing from the wounds.
“Everyone will eventually die, and even the most beautiful person is no exception.” Schumeer’s voice was extremely calm. “After Adonis died, he went to the underworld, and the goddess of beauty was heartbroken. She asked Zeus to bring her beloved back to life, and Zeus agreed to the request, but only allowed Adonis to be resurrected for six months each year, while he remained in the underworld for the other six months. From then on, he became a god who was constantly dying and rising from the dead, and myrrh became a symbol of healing and resurrection.”
Yakov waited quietly for his master to finish eating, but this time it seemed unusually long. Something warm and itchy slid down his neck; he didn't know how much blood was being sucked from that wound and into Yubi's stomach. Why was he suddenly so hungry? Yakov couldn't understand. He raised his hand to push Yubi away, but his hand was limp, and just raising it made him dizzy. Schumeer's voice grew increasingly indistinct, and Yakov's mind had no energy to ponder the deeper meaning of the story. Myrrh, he thought, was it also this that allowed the Holy Son to be resurrected? Where in the world could there be such a magical spice?
Yakov's mind wandered. His gaze swept across the marble pillars of the balcony—in the moonlight, the figure of a Greek female slave was hidden behind one of the pillars, watching the bloody scene with fear.
He wanted to remind Yubi, but for some reason, his vision went black, and stars flickered before his eyes. A heavy drowsiness pushed his body into Yubi's arms, causing the unrestrained vampire to gasp in surprise. But the gasp turned into a faint, fading noise, failing to awaken the sleeping knight.
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