GREAT PLANS

A cold wind swept across St. Peter's Square and howled around the corners of the Papal Palace. The tranquil hours in his garden were over. Pius IX. sat at his desk, but he couldn't concentrate on the dispatches from the envoys spread out before him. He had sent his staff away to be alone for a few minutes. Yes, he missed being alone. Being the father of all Catholics had its price. As a bishop or even as a small parish priest, he hadn't carried the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. How long ago that was! Pius IX. closed his eyes. He was so tired.

I am getting old. Too old! His fingers grasped the red stones resting beneath his robes. How he hated this jewelry! He felt like tearing it from his chest and hurling it against the wall. Or stomping on it with his feet like a disgusting snake. A crooked smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "Yes, I am getting old and peculiar." How could one hate a piece of jewelry? No, these feelings were probably directed more toward the one who had given it to him and who always urged him not to part with the stones.

A knock on the door made him jump. It wouldn't be Cardinal Angelo again, would it? Disgust flooded him like a wave. These were feelings unworthy of a pope, yet he couldn't help it. Perhaps the cardinal could be transferred to the Amazon or to Alaska? He thought of his own journey to Chile so many years ago. What torture! A real trial of God's. Pius IX. suppressed a sigh. If only it were that easy nowadays. The great Renaissance popes hadn't hesitated to banish their opponents or solve the problem with a little poison. He made the sign of the cross hastily. No, that was not a thought to pursue. Was the cardinal even an opponent? He wanted to give him what every pope must have desired in his dreams: the rule over a united Italy. A God-given state of Italy!

"Holy Father? May I disturb you?" It was the voice of his Camerlengo. What else could he do but invite him in?

The gray halo of hair appeared, then the plain dark robe. He clasped his hands together and bowed. "Signor Giovanni Battista de Rossi has arrived and wishes to speak with you." Pius IX. felt his demeanor brighten. "How wonderful! Yes, bring Signor in right away. I am so eager to hear about his plans."

The Camerlengo looked a bit sour, but refrained from comment and hastened to usher the guest in. The pope went to meet the archaeologist.

"Oh, my dear Signor de Rossi. I am pleased that you are back in the country. You have done so much for Rome and for all of Christendom. Please, sit down, my dear. Would you like a glass of wine with me?"

Signor de Rossi thanked the pope and settled on the edge of the uncomfortable chair, which dated back to the time of the great French kings and whose gilding was slowly peeling off. The pope raised his glass. "To your great discoveries! The Catacombs of San Callisto with the papal crypts and the Cubiculum of Severus! Ah, I still remember it as if it were yesterday, and the emotion overwhelms me again when I think of how you led me into the past of the early Christians there. What plans do you have now? Do you want to continue excavating the Via Appia with your colleague Signor Canina?"

De Rossi shook his head. "No, I have something else in mind." He made a mysterious face. "The idea came to me years ago, when we tackled the first part of the Colosseum."

Pius IX. suddenly felt a tingling sensation. The excavations at the Colosseum had been accompanied by strange accidents back then. Overnight, not only were scaffolds sawn and equipment destroyed, but some workers had also lost their lives. Not that they had fallen to their deaths or been buried alive in the ruins. That happened in excavations all the time. No, the bodies were just lying there on the construction site in the morning. Strangely contorted and bloodless. Rumors of revenants and vampires had spread, and the mob had threatened to revolt. The cardinal had ordered the excavations to be stopped and forbidden further exploration of the secrets of ancient Rome, not only at the Colosseum, but also on the Palatine and the Roman Forum at the foot of the Capitoline Hill. Peace had returned.

"And what are you thinking about this time?" asked the Pope, leaning forward, his palms pressed together with tension.

Instead of an answer, Giovanni Battista de Rossi opened his briefcase and handed the Pope some drawings. "Are these motifs familiar to you, Holy Father?"

Pius IX. nodded. "Oh yes, even in my palace and in the Castel Sant'Angelo, there are similar paintings."

The archaeologist nodded. "Yes, they were very popular for a while. This painting was called grottesco, grotesque, after the place where its models were discovered: in caves and underground chambers! Artists rappelled through a hole in the ceiling and entered a wonderland that astonished them. Pinturicchio was there, Perugino and Filippo Lippi, yes, even the highly revered Raphael, to name a few of the Renaissance painters who repeatedly used these motifs. But then the place fell into oblivion."

"What place is that?" urged the Pope.

The archaeologist took his time. "It is Nero's Golden House, the Domus Aurea!"

The Pope coughed. When he had calmed down again, he groaned, "That's impossible! Everyone knows that Nero's successors erased his traces and destroyed his palace!"

"But not completely! Emperor Trajan built his baths over the eastern wing. And there, around the hill, we must search! What do you think about that, Holy Father?" His enthusiasm seemed boundless, but Pius IX. hesitated.

"Why do you want to bring back Nero of all people into our minds? He cruelly executed countless Christians."

The archaeologist nodded. "That is correct, but when one remembers him again, one also remembers the countless martyrs."

"That is a good thought!" Pius IX. pushed aside the threatening image of the cardinal and surrendered to the anticipation of priceless discoveries. His cheeks began to glow. "I will see what I can provide you from my coffers. - No, don't thank me yet, it won't be much. The Pope is a prisoner in his own palace. But I will send a good diplomat to the king and his parliament to support your cause. It is now their city. Let them ensure that Rome's great history comes to light again!"

Ivy was out with Seymour, and Luciano had earned an hour of detention with the Torture siblings, Tammo and Joanne. So Alisa took the opportunity and went to the boys' sleeping chamber after not finding Malcolm in the common room. The door was only slightly ajar. Alisa cleared her throat loudly, waited a while, and then pushed the door open. Five open coffins stood in the room, but none of the vampires who slept here were visible. Alisa knew that the two coffins on the left wall belonged to her brother Tammo and Sören, next to them rested Mervyn. On the right were the coffins of Raymond and Malcolm from London. Alisa's gaze wandered over the resting places. While Mervyn was obviously interested in crawling creatures of all kinds - as evidenced by the number of sealed jars next to his coffin - Raymond's neatly folded blanket and fluffed pillows revealed an orderliness she wouldn't have expected from him. Curiously, Alisa approached Malcolm's coffin. The mask was nowhere to be found, which was not surprising. She hadn't expected him to leave it lying around openly. Alisa reached out her hand, but then hesitated. Should she secretly search his coffin or ask him instead?

A noise made her turn around. She backed against the wall as Malcolm entered the sleeping chamber. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "I think you've lost your way," he said a little coldly.

Alisa shook her head. "No, I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you to show me the mask again."

Malcolm frowned. Alisa kept her gaze firmly on his face and moved a bit away from his coffin. Was he annoyed? Did he think he had caught her snooping? The feeling of outrage didn't quite come.

"Why do you want to see it? Is it that important?" he asked.

Alisa squirmed. "No, not important, just curious. You could call it female curiosity."

He smiled, and Alisa was relieved to see his features smooth out again. "It's hard to resist curiosity, of course," he said mockingly. "But unfortunately, I can't help you. I don't have the mask anymore."

"What? Why? Did you throw it away?"

To her surprise, he avoided her gaze and seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "No, not directly," he said.

"What do you mean then?" Alisa persisted.

"I returned it," Malcolm replied.

Alisa fell silent for a while, then asked, astonished, "To whom? The girl who lost it?" Malcolm nodded. "How so? And why?"

"Because she asked me to," Malcolm explained.

Alisa went back to Malcolm's coffin and perched on the stone edge. "I think I'd like to hear this story from the beginning!"

Malcolm gave her a wry smile. "I believe you, but I'm not sure if I should talk about it. It could get me into trouble!"

"Why? Do you think I'd go and tell someone?" She was offended. "You can't think that! I swear I won't!"

Malcolm sighed and sat down next to her. "Perhaps you'll regret your hasty oath soon." He cleared his throat and seemed to consider how best to begin. Though it was hard for Alisa not to press him, she remained silent until he started speaking.

"I saw the girl again when she came back to search for the lost mask. Let's call it coincidence. Well, I approached her." Again, he hesitated.

"And? Did you ask her what the mask was about?"

"Yes!" His voice sounded different from usual.

"And what did she say?"

"She claimed to belong to some kind of secret society - whose goal is to hunt vampires!"

Alisa was speechless for a few moments. "Do you believe her? That can't be true! The girl just wanted to seem important - or?"

Malcolm shrugged and then let his shoulders fall. "That's what I thought at first, but then..." He didn't finish the sentence. Both fell silent for a while until he continued softly, "Then she said things as if she had already dealt with our kind and knew what she was talking about. And now I don't know what to think anymore."

Alisa jumped up. "Even if the risk of her telling the truth is so small, we must report it to the Conte!"

"Oh yes? And have you considered what he'll do to me when he finds out I was out alone and met a girl? Whether I bit her or not."

"Did you?"

"No!" he said, annoyed.

"At worst, he'll send you home," Alisa said.

"Yes, and that's something I can't and won't risk!"

"So you just want to keep this information to yourself?" she exclaimed, horrified.

Malcolm raised his hands placatingly. "We don't even know if it's important information. Besides, the Conte has his people and surely doesn't rely on my random discovery."

Alisa wasn't convinced. "I'm not so sure. I would tell him."

Malcolm nodded. "See, I told you you'd regret your oath too quickly. But an oath is an oath."

"Yes, an oath is an oath," Alisa sighed. "I just hope your decision is the right one."

"I hope so too."

The year was coming to an end. People were preparing for their holy celebration of Christ's birth and decorating churches and squares. There was no sign of such festivities in the Domus Aurea. Instead, one evening Conte Claudio entered the hall with the golden ceiling and announced something that made the young vampires collectively groan. There he stood in his robe of emerald green velvet, his fingers with long, curved nails clasped together, smiling contentedly at the assembly.

"That should have made me suspicious right away," Tammo complained later. "It could only mean trouble!"

A hiss spread through the hall until the conversations gradually subsided. Only when everyone was silent and looking attentively at the Conte did he begin to speak.

"You've been here in the Domus Aurea for almost four months now, and as your professors report, your progress is commendable. Yes, your teachers are pleased with you - at least most of them have spoken positively." Luciano and Alisa exchanged meaningful glances.

"In any case, I have consulted with your professors," continued the Conte, "and we believe that you are ready to present your new skills in an appropriate setting. We have used this modern invention of the humans, which they call telegraphy, to send a message to the heads of your families."

"Perhaps the ordeal will finally be over, and we may get to go home earlier than expected?" Alisa heard Anna Christina say to her cousin.

Franz Leopold just shrugged. "I doubt it. Don't get your hopes up too soon!"

The Conte continued a bit louder. "We have invited them to visit us at the Domus Aurea and to be present when you take your first major examination." Still smiling, he looked around at the group.

"An examination?" groaned Sören, breaking the dead silence that followed the Conte's words.

"I don't think our Seigneurs will come," Joanne bravely declared. "How could telegraphy reach them in the labyrinths under the city?" The Viennese students groaned softly. Only Ivy and the Londoners seemed unaffected by this announcement.

Conte Claudio dashed the hopes of the Pyras. "Everyone has already accepted and will arrive here in the next few days. The examination will be on Saturday. So, you have five more nights to prepare."

"How can we imagine the procedure of the examination?" Luciano dared to speak. "Will it surely only demand a practical demonstration of our resistance against the power of the church and its artifacts?"

"This will be a central part, but I want your professors to test everything they have taught you," the Conte replied. "You must also demonstrate your knowledge of Italian and Latin languages and of ancient and modern Roman history before the council of clan leaders."

If possible, the shock now ran even deeper. Tammo buried his face in his hands, Joanne let out a wail, and Karl Philipp cursed audibly. Alisa and Luciano also looked at each other in shock. The languages didn't bother them much, but Roman history?

Ivy stood up and tucked her bag under her arm. "Then we should go through our notes after class in the next few days and review the material."

"Go through the notes? About Roman history? Oh, and you think my chaotic scribbling can somehow help me?" Luciano snorted irritably, looking over at Alisa.

"A little, my notes will surely help us. Together, we might be able to fill in the missing parts. In the library..." Ivy began.

Luciano cut her off abruptly. "In the library, in the library," he mocked her and threw his arms up in despair. "That seems to be your solution to everything! Of course, there are books on ancient Roman history there, but you seem to forget that we only have five nights. And I didn't hear the Conte say that classes were canceled until then. It's hopeless." Ivy linked arms with him and directed him towards the classroom.

Shortly afterward, they sat facing Professoressa Enrica, who, as usual, looked down sternly at her students. "Let's begin. I advise you to pay attention and concentrate. Use this opportunity to practice before the examination. I will demand a lot from you before the committee. You will have to push your limits, and any small lapse in attention will cause you to fail!" She stood erect, her hair tied in a tight knot, in her plain, high-necked dress with the white collar, and no one doubted her words!

They all came! Gradually, the guests from Vienna and London, from Paris and Hamburg, arrived. Lastly, on the morning before the examination, the ship carrying Donnchadh, the clan leader of the Lycana, and his beautiful young shadow Catriona landed in Rome. Conte Claudio greeted his guests cheerfully and made every effort to resolve the rising disputes between the families. In some cases, however, the only solution was to separate them and accommodate them in quarters far apart.

On the evening of the examination, the servants of the Nosferas carried long tables into the magnificently decorated octagonal hall and arranged the chairs so that each family could maintain a bit of distance from the next. He left it to the Dracas to assign the seats furthest from those of the Pyras. While the preparations were in full swing in the great hall, the young vampires sat before their evening cups.

Signorina Raphaela and Signora Zita struggled to spread a relaxed atmosphere and cheer up the despondent, but it seemed all in vain. Neither Raphaela's laughter and flattery nor Zita's maternal comfort or advice helped. It remained unusually quiet that evening, and only here and there were a few words exchanged in whispers. Some had densely written sheets in front of them or clutched the ruby around their necks. When the Conte entered accompanied by Professors Enrica and Ruguccio, the students nervously craned their necks.

"The time has come!" announced Conte Claudio, with a facial expression as if he were handing them gifts. "The examination can begin. We have devised various tasks, but the leaders of the other families may also ask you questions or request practical exercises. Depending on what we demand from you, you will work individually or in pairs."

"I hope I don't have to compete with one of the Dracas, or even worse, the Pyras," murmured Luciano.

"But Franz Leopold isn't bad at all," said Ivy. "He has prepared himself well, although he always pretended not to care about the upcoming examination."

"You don't miss a thing, do you?" Alisa blurted out.

"Not much," Ivy admitted.

Conte Claudio's voice interrupted their exchange. "Ivy-Máire!" 

She looked up at him questioningly. The gazes of the others darted to the Irish vampire. "Yes, Conte Claudio?"

"Follow me. You're the first."

Without hesitation, Ivy stood up, smoothed her long shimmering gown, and left the hall with Seymour.

"I don't know whether to envy her or pity her," said Luciano. "After all, she'll soon be done with it. I'm so curious to hear what she'll say. Surely she can give us some hints on what to watch out for if we don't want to incur the displeasure of the examiners."

"Perhaps to ensure that the answers are correct?" Alisa suggested.

Luciano clenched his fists and growled menacingly. "Sometimes I could wring your neck! Be careful what you say. This is not the right moment to test my patience."

"Ah, I hear the nerves are on edge here!" Franz Leopold sauntered over with his usual smug smile. "Well, you probably have every reason to be nervous, but threatening Alisa with your fists for a true - albeit not very witty - answer? This will be a dark night for you, I fear."

"What are you doing here?" Alisa snapped at him.

"Perhaps you need my protection again?" Franz Leopold suggested. "Although I even trust you to handle our chubby friend alone if he completely freaks out with fear."

"Just go away!" Alisa said, turning demonstratively away from him. Franz Leopold shrugged and rejoined his cousin and cousins. Silence fell in the hall for a while. Luciano played with his empty cup. "Where could she be? The examination can't take that long. I hope we'll have enough time to question her thoroughly."

Luciano was disappointed. Ivy did not return to the hall with the golden ceiling. Presumably, she had been instructed to stay away from the others for that very reason, and it was typical of her direct, upright nature to comply. Next, Chiara and Fernand were called, then Raymond, followed by Sören with Ireen.

"I hope I get a good partner!" Luciano repeated in an unrelenting litany. "If I have to go with Franz Leopold, I'll refuse!" he declared, but Alisa knew it was just an empty threat. Finally, Luciano was called. Alone. He gave Alisa one last desperate look, then followed Signora Enrica to his examination.