Siegfried frowned. “Since our family originally comes from Germany, that would be hardly likely. However, there are many legends associated with this castle,” he said in his prissy way of talking. “Of course the castle was built by Vlad the Impaler, whom the peasants regarded as being in league with the devil, and it is said that the Dracula tale began here. The local peasants are very superstitious. Ask them and they will all tell you of a relative who was bitten by a vampire or met a werewolf. They won’t venture out at night, you know, and if anyone dares to venture forth after dark then it’s said that person has to be in league with the undead.”

“Ah, so that explains the way they crossed themselves when we stopped at the inn at the top of the pass,” I said.

“So primitive and illiterate,” Siegfried said. “I told Maria Theresa that she should set an example of modern behavior by having her wedding in the capital, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She always was a hopeless romantic.”

I personally wouldn’t have called the castle a romantic spot but I dared to ask, “So do any of these undead creatures climb up castle walls?”

“Castle walls?” Matty asked sharply. “I hope not. I sleep with my window open.”

Siegfried laughed mirthlessly. “I believe that vampires are reputed to climb down walls, headfirst. But do not worry, you will be quite safe—as safe as you are at your own castle in Scotland, which I understand has its share of ghosts and monsters.”

He turned back to Max and I looked across at my mother. She was in a sulky mood because there was nobody near her to charm. But I saw her looking down the table on several occasions and decided that she was showing interest in Anton. That might prove interesting, watching Belinda and my mother compete for his attention. Of course Mummy was hampered by having Max in tow. Not that that ever slowed down Mrs. Simpson! Amusingly Field Marshal Pirin seemed to think that Mummy was making eye contact with him and he raised his glass to her, leering over it seductively. Mummy shuddered.

“Who is that awful man? He looks like the wicked baron from a pantomime.”

“He’s the head of the Bulgarian army,” I said.

“How terribly democratic of them, inviting soldiers to the royal palace.”

“I gather he wields a lot of power and has to be humored,” I said.

“I don’t intend to humor him,” she said. “He keeps looking at me as if he’s mentally undressing me.”

“Who wishes to undress you?” Max demanded, suddenly showing interest.

“Nobody darling, except you,” Mummy said quickly. She waited until Max had resumed his conversation. “His English has improved almost too well now. I liked it when he only understood what I wanted him to.”