also baptized children, carried on weddings, and more.”
We followed the count through the kitchen to the stairs that led to our rooms. There were pictures of the family members on the walls. Indeed, they had a lot of relatives. We walked to the end of a corridor. The count opened a heavy, old door; and we found ourselves in the oldest part of the castle. According to him, it had been preserved since the 15th century, along with the walled-up towers. The rooms, which were located on three floors and connected to the four towers, were mostly rebuilt in the 18th and 19th centuries.
We found ourselves in a big room, a sort of veranda. It was made of white stone in the Catholic style. The windows faced the courtyard and were decorated with frescoes of the 15th century. On the left was a carved, wooden partition with an ancient chapel behind it, a picturesque sight. In the chapel itself there were narrow windows on the sides also decorated with frescoes of images of saints. In the middle there was an altar with a medieval tabernacle and a large portrait of Christ with a heart at the base of it. It appeared authentic.
Nora was over the moon with happiness. I was no less happy about it; it seemed that the new emotions prevented her from sleepwalking. The smile never left her face. She touched all the objects with such love and enthusiasm as if she had really returned to her long-abandoned house.
To the right and left of the chapel were separate, small prayer rooms, each of which was large enough for only one person. The ceiling was sculpted with the grimacing faces of demons. As the count explained, this was done so that the worshipper didn’t get distracted from their conversation with the Lord. Tricky!
Nora was fascinated. She came to the same heavy doors that were located opposite those through which we entered. In theory, they should serve as the entrance to the third tower. She tried to open them, but they wouldn’t budge.
“Oh, no!” the count exclaimed. “You won’t get in there. The doors are tightly closed. Even we don’t go there anymore. The tower is completely in disrepair, as I said.” The count reacted briskly as if they were hiding millions of dollars behind those doors.
“Completely?” Nora asked in surprise.
“Yes, absolutely! It’s dangerous!” The count appeared tense.
“And what was there before?” Nora did not let up.
“The rooms of the duchess’ children,” the count answered quickly.
“Duchess?” Nora’s journalistic curiosity came out.
“Ah, yes! I haven’t told you everything from the beginning. This castle was the dowry of our ancestor, my 11th great-grandmother, Duchess Louise. She was of royal blood because she came from the family of Eleanor of Aquitaine, your namesake. She married the Duc de L*, and they had four children! Actually, almost everyone in our family had many children. Except during the Middle Ages, this was a regular thing. All the rich aristocrats tried to give birth to the maximum number of children since the mortality rate was high, and the heir to the fortune and castles should be a boy.
Unfortunately, we know little about the 15th century in the history of the family. They say something happened to her children… but it is just rumors, and there is just nothing interesting in the old towers anymore!”
The count shouldn’t have said that to Nora. Now she was sure that the most interesting thing about the castle she would find in the old towers. Moreover, we had already been in one of the towers and had seen a lot of antiquities there.
Nora’s diary
11.09.2016
God, I’m in love with this castle! I have a feeling that everything here is sort of mine. How can one love castles so much? I don’t understand myself.
As for the castle, it is square with four towers. Between the two front towers is the main entrance to the castle. Next comes the courtyard. The tower on the left is allegedly closed; the tower on the right is rebuilt. Here, it seems, the count was not lying because the staircase did not go into the tower but went up and led to the floors on the left. The tower to the left and furthest from the entrance, the third tower, was the oldest according to the owners. There was a room of a mysterious priest which was the first room we examined. The far tower on the right was walled up; there was not even a hint of an entrance.
However, this is a magical place. When I found myself here, I began to breathe deeply! I felt so energetically strong, as if I had been plugged into an outlet. My fears have vanished. I wasn’t a sleepwalker that night. I’m something stronger than I was before… but what am I?
Anton’s diary
11.09.2016
The count led us through the courtyard to tower number two, which was already, in fact, almost not a tower. On the ground floor there was a 19th-century living room with a grand piano and family portraits of that era. The count said that their not-so-distant 11th great-grandmother played music here. Everything was wood; the windows were large and let in a lot of light. There was not a hint of Gothic style, except for the old sideboards which had been preserved since the 15th century. They were an example of early Gothic: black with carved figures of people and animals. They were also locked.
In the middle there was a sofa and several armchairs around a beautiful, large tea table of the 19th century. Apparently, they gathered here in the evenings in a family circle, drank tea, played the piano, and discussed the latest news.
According to the count, there was nothing else interesting in the house, no expositions. He repeated this lie over and over again with sparkling eyes. He also rubbed his hands as if he was washing them.
Then we went with the count to the living room and the dining room where breakfast was served to tourists. As the count explained, these rooms were decorated in an authentic style, but were not antique.
After the tour, we went to see the surroundings and visited the Breze Castle, a magnificent monument of antiquity also built in the form of a square. As in Dupré, there were some ancient parts and parts that were completely rebuilt by descendants. Yet there was something mystically ancient in these places. We didn’t have time to go anywhere else. We decided to go back and have a rest… which, translated from my wife’s language, meant “poking one’s nose into other people’s business” and “continuing to examine someone else’s property.”
The weather is great. It is much warmer in France than in Russia in September. I sincerely admired the weather. We wore thin windbreakers and jeans, and we were hot.
“Let’s go back to the castle. We won’t have time to see anything else anyway; all the castles are closed,” my wife said slyly.
“I think I know why you want to go back,” I laughed.
“Stop it!” Nora laughed back. “Well, yes, I want to wander a bit around the castle without the count’s annoying gaze. It’s so interesting. My God, is there a walled-up room there?”
Moreover, from my wife’s point of view – childishly naïve – it was clear that she had already come up with what might be there.
“Yes,” I responded. I couldn’t help laughing. “The count shouldn’t have said that to you. By the way, did you notice how the countess looked at you when we arrived the first time?
“Well, she’s a little skewed. Do you think it’s weird?”
Nora clearly hadn’t paid attention to it, but she was a dreamer by nature and as such didn’t pay attention to such things.
“Yes. Why such a reaction all of a sudden?” I began to think out loud.
“Maybe because we are Russian?” Nora laughed.
I didn’t tell her what I’d heard. In the end, it really might mean nothing.
“Another thing seemed strange to me,”