The Countesses of Tannensdal

"What do you know of the Countess Ilira?" he continued after a moment. "Not much? Well, few people do. The Tannensdals are secretive -- have been secretive for perhaps two centuries. No-one ever sees the Counts. Only the Countesses ever emerge in public, and where they find their husbands remains a mystery."

At this I gave a laugh. "A mystery? You've seen our hostess, man! If her predecessors were anything like she, they'd have had no difficulty in attracting scores of suitors to their hand." My own ancestor included, by all accounts.

Von Raszen was shaking his head. "I did not mean that. The lady's charms are undeniable, and I will admit that I do not have to pretend very hard to seem like a love-struck faun. No, Major Woodall, what I meant was that no records can be found of the gentlemen before they become Count of Tannensdal."

I frowned. "Surely the male descendants--"

He interrupted me. "The line produces only female children, or so it appears. Each daughter inherits the title and marries some unknown entity, who is never seen. Then some decades later the process repeats."

By this time I was becoming angry. "What are you suggesting? That the Countesses lock their husbands away like animals?" The idea was preposterous. Nothing in my cousin's demeanour had hinted at such a cruel and dominating side.

He fell silent, then rose suddenly and strode to the window. Again I was struck by his poise and self-assuredness, so different from the night before. With his back turned to me, I took the opportunity to rise from the bed and wrap my own gown around my naked form. Modesty had nothing to do with this: sensing an argument approaching, I felt less vulnerable wrapped in the sturdy cloth than naked.

I was tying the belt when he turned. "What you describe is one possibility. However," and here he seemed uncertain, "some people have other suspicions. You see, every Countess Ilira is identical to the previous one. They never age. They never appear as young girls. You saw the likeness of one yesterday."

Now he had my attention. Undeniably the Ilira in the painting had been the twin of the Ilira standing beside me. Then I shrugged. "So what? The man in the picture is the very image of myself. I do not see where you are going with this."

He was shaking his head as he paced up and down. "That portrait was touched up yesterday, after you arrived. The candles and oil lamps masked the scent of paint in the evening, but in the afternoon I smelled it clearly."

I waved a hand dismissively. "Pah, a little harmless flattery to make me feel more welcome. I still don't see what you're implying."

"Just this." He turned to face me again, his face serious. "I belong to an Order that investigates... unusual matters. And we believe that Countess Ilira -- today's Countess Ilira, the Countess Ilira in the painting, and every other Countess in between and before -- we believe that they are all the same woman. That she has lived for more than two hundred years."

I pondered his words as I dressed. Von Raszen seemed willing to help, and I was tempted to let him so I could inquire further about his meaning. But he resisted my attempts to learn about his mysterious Order, and so I sent him away. "Think about it," he told me as he left. It was unclear whether he meant his suspicions about Countess Ilira or his offer to help me dress.

The sun was shining when I made my way to the breakfast salon. The ancient Relic, with her knitting, was the only person there when I entered. She ignored my nod of greeting, and I did her the same courtesy and concentrated on admiring the view.

Tannensdal looked better than it had the previous day, the gloominess dispelled by the rising sun and replaced by a simple charm. Light sparkled on its streams and caught on the spires of its chapels. The fields seemed lush and green, and even the forests appeared less foreboding. Von Raszen's tales and suspicions, which the day before might have found a toehold, lost any credibility as I gazed out across the sun-drenched scenery.

I had just finished my second cup of tea when the Countess entered. She glided into the room like a petal borne by the wind, a vision in a simple, low-cut gown of light green. "Cousin!" she greeted me with a delight that could not have been feigned. "Did you sleep well? I trust no walking suits of armour interfered with your rest."

I smiled at that. "No, but ask me again in two days. Full moon, I recall you said." She laughed at my sally, poor attempt at wit though it was.

She led me to a side-room and out onto a wide balcony that gave the same spectacular views of the valley as the window in the salon. The sun did just enough to take the edge off the early chill of the autumn morning and fill the air with sweet scents.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and gave a sigh of pleasure. "Tannensdal can be a sad place sometimes," she said, her eyes still closed. "Yesterday you saw it at its worst. But to me it is home, and on days like today there is no place I would rather be."

She inhaled again, and I could only agree with her as I watched that magnificent bosom swell against the constraining material. "The valley looks spectacular," I ventured, and she opened her eyes with an amused look.

"I know full well which valley you are referring to," she admonished, then dispelled any thought that she might be angry by breathing in again. "How was Merri last night?"

Caught off-guard, I searched for a reply. When a lady is flirting with you, it does not do to admit to enjoying the physical favours of another woman. "Merri?" I managed after a moment. "The maid? She brought me brandy."

"She did more than that. Oh, do not worry, I am not jealous." And indeed the look in her eye was one of amusement. "I sent her to you to find out what kind of lover you are."

Her frankness took me aback, and I caught myself before I let my mouth fall open. "And what kind of lover am I?" I managed. My voice sounded hoarse in my ears.

She leaned forward until her chest brushed against my jacket. "Considerate. Sensual." Her lips were nearly touching my ear now. "Forceful."

"The maid told you this?" If she wanted to tease, then so could I. "I wouldn't believe servants' gossip."

"Oh no," she replied, still breathing in my ear. "I saw it for myself. Surely you noticed me, in the mirror?"

Before my mind could formulate a reply to send to my mouth, Von Raszen stepped out onto the balcony. "Oh I say," he declared loudly, "I didn't realise that you cousins were so close. It's nice to have family, isn't it?"

Ignoring the poisonous look I hurled in his direction, and the bulge that must have been prominent in my trousers, he focused his attention on the Countess. "My good lady, your man tells me that it's an excellent day for shooting geese. Would you care to join me?" From his body angle, I was visibly excluded from the invitation.

Nevertheless, it was a party of three that set out a short while later, the local worthies having departed for their own home at the crack of dawn and the Relic never, it seemed, leaving the castle or her knitting.

Not only was I eager to spend more time in my cousin's company -- though I realised I should stop thinking of her as being related to me -- I was also worried about what Von Raszen might do. Whatever his secretive Order's beliefs, he seemed to think that Ilira was some kind of enchantress or monster, and I feared leaving her alone with him and a fowling piece.

In fact, his act worked to my advantage. After Ilira had some success, she sweetly asked Von Raszen to collect the birds for her. While he was away on this mission he could not refuse, she drew me deeper into the trees that gave us cover and pressed me up against a wide trunk. "Kiss me!" she murmured.

All thoughts of mirrors, murder and mysterious Orders disappeared as I pressed my lips against hers. Her body moulded itself against mine and she returned the kiss with a fiery passion. My arms wrapped about her, pulling her close and squeezing her delightful form against me.

After no more than an instant, after an eternity, she pulled away again. "Rudolf will be back soon." Her breathing was flatteringly ragged as she pretended to straighten her perfect hair. "If he caught us he would be impossible to deal with."

It would have been the perfect opportunity to bring up the younger man's claims. They had gained more ground with me since Ilira's comment about the mirror, and I was eager to talk to her. Unfortunately Von Raszen came hallooing into sight before I could speak, and the rest of the morning passed in a tedium of annoyances. Von Raszen swooned over Ilira and sneered at me, while I tried to ignore him entirely. Only Ilira, as the centre of attention, seemed to enjoy herself.

Back at the castle, lunch passed in the same manner, and I suppose I must have appeared sulky when I excused myself afterwards to write letters. Part of me was hoping that Merri would make an appearance. Though it was Ilira who was occupying my thoughts, I was jealous of her behaviour towards Von Raszen. It was foolish, I knew, yet her actions towards me had indicated that she wished to pursue a romantic relationship and I could not understand why she did not give the young fool short shrift.

However, I was finished with my letters and the sun was already low over the hills by the time the girl entered. "Master, the Lady sends me to bring you." She had her hands clasped demurely at her waist, and she did not look up.

Already I was regretting my petulance of that afternoon. Moreover, I was regretting the time I had spent secluded by myself instead of in Ilira's company. Yet it seemed that that at least was about to be rectified.

In my shirtsleeves I followed Merri along the panelled passage and up a flight of stairs to a wide double door. The girl tapped and entered immediately. I followed.

The Countess's chambers were large, seemingly covering the entire floor of the tower. Windows let in the light from the setting sun in the west, and provided views out across Tannensdal on two other sides. In the fourth wall a fire blazed below a wide mantle, sending scurrying the autumn chill that had dared to creep in as the sun departed.

Rich rugs covered much of the floor that wasn't occupied by the dressing table, the divan with a low table and the vast bed. Precious metals gleamed on ornaments and candlesticks, and the carved wooden ceiling was enhanced with a pattern in traces of gold.

All this I took in in an instant, and then my eyes fell on Ilira, and stayed there. She was clad only in a gown of gossamer, hanging open to reveal the splendid curves of her body. Pale pink nipples topped her full breasts, visible through the thin material like peering eyes. Below, beneath the soft roundness of her belly, a patch of golden hair gleamed on her mound, with a hint of pinkness showing below.

She was also looking at me from inside the large standing mirror as she undid the last of her braids and shook her blood-red hair so that it fell loose over her shoulders.

Smiling seductively, she gestured towards the divan, then turned away. Searching, I saw that the mirror showed a perfect reflection of the room, but Merri and I were invisible. Instead, besides Ilira, I saw Von Raszen, stretched out on the bed, naked but for his undergarments. His eyes were fixed on Ilira.

She swayed towards the bed, her movements reminding me of the great tigers I had seen in India: their eyes on their prey, certain of their mastery, certain of the kill. The gown slid from her shoulders as she walked, revealing shapely round buttocks that had me sitting forward on the divan.

I became aware of hands on my shoulders. Merri had moved to stand beside me and her fingers massaged me through the material of my shirt. Without tearing my gaze from the mirror, I felt her bend down and flick at my ear with her tongue.

Von Raszen's face was a mixture of conflicting emotions. Lust was there, and an adoration that could not have been feigned. But there was fear too, as his eyes followed Ilira's prowl across the carpet, the resemblance to a great cat becoming stronger with every step.

She crawled onto the bed -- it was not the bed from the room that I sat in, I realised -- until she hovered above him on all fours, her face level with his naked stomach. The lust, by now, was not confined to his face alone. His under-trousers were stretched by the large bulge of his desire.

Ilira lowered her face until it was less than an inch away from the material, her mouth open and her tongue extended. I saw Von Raszen's lips move, as if he was speaking, but no sound reached through the glass to my side of the mirror.

Ilira seemed to give a slow laugh, then her head moved up, her tongue not quite touching the fabric, until it was level with his bare stomach. Then tongue met flesh and I saw Von Raszen shudder as she licked. Higher and higher she went, slowly and sensually, visiting first one nipple then the other and then tracing a path back down to his stomach.

His hands moved as if to seize her head and steer it where he wanted it to be, but he froze at a commanding glance from her. Not a word did she need to say. His arms dropped back and he became a passive subject once more.

On my side of the mirror, Merri's hands had found their way into my shirt and she was stroking my chest. Her lips were nibbling across my neck and throat. My gaze remained focused on the spectacle before me, though, and if she felt put out by this she did not let it show.

Ilira continued to lick Von Raszen's skin. From time to time her tongue lifted away until it was barely touching him, and his body rose up almost as if by itself, as if it was reaching out to her. Whenever this happened, Ilira gave a silent smirk and pressed her mouth against his skin, kissing and licking and sucking.

By the time she moved up to his neck he was trembling. The face that had seemed mature and purposeful only that morning now seemed again much younger. The fear was gone, or almost entirely, replaced by eagerness and excitement.

Ilira kissed his neck for a moment, then she pulled her knees up until she was straddling his face like Merri had mine the night before. Now his hands came up, and she let them as he grasped her buttocks and pressed his face into her mound.

She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and looked at me. A smile was trying to escape her lips. Reaching behind her, she groped at the fellow's undergarments until she released his swollen shaft.

Merri had removed my shirt by this time, and slipped round to kneel before me on the carpet. She unbuttoned my trousers, and I shifted my weight to allow her to release me. Without wasting time, she took my shaft into her warm mouth and began to suck gently. I closed my eyes for an instant, letting the sensations wash over me, then I opened them again to watch Ilira in the mirror.

She had thrown her head back, her long red hair cascading across her naked back. Von Raszen appeared to be adept with his tongue, and although the scene was playing out in silence I could see her gasp. Her hand clutched his shaft, holding it tight and causing him to buck with his hips.

All too soon she let go, however, and pulled his face away from her. She glided her body down and, taking hold again, guided him inside her. Sinking down, she wrapped her arms about the young man's head, pressing his face into her neck, and closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, she was staring at me.

Her hips rose and fell smoothly, his in jerking motions. Then she guided him into her rhythm and their bodies met and parted steadily. His face was invisible behind hers, but I could tell from how his toes clenched that he would not last long.

Ilira's tawny eyes had turned black, I suddenly noticed. They remained fixed unsettlingly on mine, wide with passion as her mouth opened and her tongue licked at her lips. She increased the pace, and Von Raszen eagerly complied. He thrust himself up at her again and again until she closed her eyes and sank her face into his neck.

Their bodies shook, tensed and untensed, then tensed again. Ilira's back arched and her body curled away from his, then collapsed down onto it again. They lay there, chests rising and falling like their hips had a moment earlier.

Then Ilira shifted her weight from him and slid her body down until her face was level with his manhood. It seemed hard still, and she took it and ran her tongue along the shaft. Any softness that it might have suffered vanished, and I watched as the head swelled up purple. Von Raszen waived feebly, but she ignored him and instead sucked him into her mouth.

I gasped as my own erection was sucked into Merri's mouth. Her head bobbed back and forth, matching somehow Ilira's motions in the mirror identically. I was near to release, and when Ilira's black eyes turned to me as she continued to pleasure the man in the mirror I felt the explosion seize me. I spasmed, feeling white fire burn through my every limb, and watched as in the mirror Von Raszen's body mimicked mine shudder for shudder, spasm for spasm.

After long moments Ilira let him slip from her mouth, and Merri let go of me, and I collapsed onto the divan, eyes shut and breathing heavily.

When I recovered somewhat, I opened my eyes to see Merri standing before me and motioning to the door. The mirror showed our reflections now, no-one else's, and I wondered briefly where Ilira and Von Raszen were. Then, as Merri gestured more emphatically I rose and buttoned my trousers. Remembering Ilira's eyes at the last, I was not certain that I wanted to meet her just then.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. No-one mentioned mirrors or black eyes. Von Raszen was pale and withdrawn. Knowing that young men usually responded to lovemaking with increased vigour, I enquired whether he was perhaps feeling out of sorts. He replied crossly that, feeling the headache coming on, he had retired to his room but slept poorly.

"Did you have bad dreams, old chap?" I asked heartily. "Have you read any scary nursery tales lately, maybe?"

His face reddened at that, and with a surly mutter he turned his attention to the soup. In a satisfying turnaround from dinner the previous day, I spent the rest of the meal flirting outrageously with Ilira. To judge from her behaviour, I might have believed that the events of earlier in the evening had been entirely my imagination, but I knew they had been real.

It was Von Raszen who excused himself first after dinner. The Relic had passed the meal muttering unintelligibly and jabbing forks and spoons at me, and presumably wishing she had a knitting needle to stab me with. She retired early too, and Ilira and I found ourselves alone on the wide balcony where we had stood that morning. The moon, nearing its full disc, hung low above the hills and cast the valley in silver light.

The night was chill, and Ilira shivered. I swiftly took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then put my arm around her and pulled her close. Her head rested on my shoulder, her hair filled my nostrils with a heady perfume. It seemed unbelievable that we had met for the first time only yesterday -- that I had known of her very existence for just a matter of weeks.

"Are you afraid?" she asked suddenly.

"Afraid?" Should I be afraid? I wondered. Of visions in mirrors, of mysterious Orders and allegations of immortality, of eyes that turned suddenly black? "No," I replied. It was the truth, I realised as I said it.

She turned and raised her face to mine. I looked down at the smiling eyes, almost golden now, and kissed her. She returned the kiss with a passion, an eagerness, that I had never encountered in a woman before.

I held her tight against me, feeling the heat in her body as our lips melted together. There was strength in that form that went beyond the mere physical. A force of will, perhaps, that gave her an unshakeable foundation to ground herself on.