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evenings she liked to play the violin and then
wander to the nearest, what she called, pub, for food, drink and
company.
    “I wasn’t thinking of searching for him, don’t
worry. Tonight my sight is on my son.” The longing in Nea’s voice
was plain.
    “It’s time? Do you want me to come with you?” Sabine
would forgo her past-times to help her best friend.
    “No, this is something I have to do alone.”
    “If you insist. Good luck and be careful. Those damn
Turks and Russians start fights everywhere nowadays.” Sabine
left.
    Nea went back upstairs and pulled on a black fur
lined robe and thick boots, it was winter and there was snow on the
ground. She braided ribbons into her black hair, as was custom and
then covered her face with a sheer veil, looking like a beautiful,
yet proper married woman. She stood outside, listening to the
sounds of the night, her breath forming white clouds. She thought
about her sons, still alive and in Wallachia. Mihail lived with
Mihnea and his wife Smaranda…Mihnea was 22; she knew they had a
son. Mihail, however, had never married or reproduced.
    With her thoughts she was whisked away on the wind,
appearing more than a day’s travel from where she made her own
home. Her boys lived, not in a castle, but a large estate. She knew
Mihnea was trying to fill his father’s shoes, as Voivode of
Wallachia, unsuccessfully. By right Mihail should have been, Nea
never understood why Vlad had ignored their eldest son. She thought
it had something to do with his eyes and that he had been born with
the caul over his face.
    Nea entered the house silently, passing through
without notice. She stopped, hearing voices from a nearby room.
    “Mihnea you must take care of your brother, the
people will never respect you while he lives in our home.” A harsh
female voice said.
    “Smaranda I will not kill my own brother, besides
most do not even know he still lives, my father tried to tell
people he died with our mother that night.”
    “He goes to town, and people come here, I have heard
rumors. There was a reason your father hid him. Don’t let sentiment
be your downfall.”  Smaranda whispered, Nea felt a burning
hatred well inside her, why had Mihnea married such a shrew?
    “Will it appease you for me to send him away?”
Mihnea sounded weary.
    “I will not have a child brought up in this house
with him, he is unnatural.”
    “I can’t kill him Smaranda, I can’t. He is all I
have left of my mother.”
    “Your mother killed herself rather than deal with
him.” Smaranda spat back, Nea almost burst in and killed her
daughter-in-law with those words. There was a resounding smack and
a hushed cry.
    “You will not talk about my mother, my uncle pushed
her, it is not her fault my father could find no proof.” Mihnea was
angry.
    “Fine, but at least be a man, do not banish him,
kill him, your father would have.” Smaranda’s tone was more
subdued.
    “If it will make you happy.”
    Nea had heard enough, hurrying she dashed up the
stairs to find Mihail, she had to get him out of that house,
tonight. His door was locked, which was smart, she concentrated and
the lock gave. The room was rather barren of everything but a large
oil painting of her. Nea felt her breath catch in her throat, it
was a painting Vlad had commissioned right after their wedding.
    She shivered, the window was open and the room was
almost unbearably cold. Her son slept soundly, huddled under furs
and blankets on a small bed in the corner of the room. She walked
across the room and shut the window, what was he thinking? Cold of
that nature could lead to illness and death!
    A candle burned on the table next to him, large and
tall, she could smell the tallow. Pushing back her veil she looked
at her son for the first time in years. His skin was pale, like
hers, he had her blue-black hair, but his father’s features. She
knew he would have one eye blue like hers and one almost black,
like his father.
    “Mihail, you must wake