Dragomir, as toastmaster, tried to keep control of things, banging his mallet with a flourish before each speech. The toasts were conducted in a mixture of French, German and English as hardly any of the party spoke either Romanian or Bulgarian. If the two parties were close enough together they clashed glasses. If they were far apart they raised glasses and drank together, the rest of the diners often joining in with a swig of their own to show solidarity. One by one the men rose to make their speeches and toast their guests. Maria was the only woman who dared to rise and toasted her attendants, so I had to stand up and reach across the table to clink glasses with her. Then Nicholas rose to toast his groomsmen. “These men have watched me grow up from disreputable youth to serious manhood,” Nicky said and various men at the table hooted and laughed. “And so I toast you now, you who know my darkest secrets. I drink to my dear brother, Anton, to Prince Siegfried, to Count Von Stashauer, to Baron . . .” Young men rose to their feet as he named them, twelve in all, reaching out to clink glasses with Nicholas. He was speaking in German and I couldn’t take in all the names, until I was aware he had switched to English and was saying, “ . . . and to my old friend who has valiantly arrived in spite of all obstacles in his path, the Honorable Darcy O’Mara from Ireland.”

I looked down the table and there at the far end I saw Darcy rise to his feet and raise a glass. If my heart had beaten fast at finding what seemed to be a vampire bending over me, it was positively racing now. As Darcy took a sip from his wine, he caught my eye and raised the glass again in a toast to me. I went crimson. I wish I could get over this girlish habit of blushing. It’s so obvious with my light complexion. I was actually glad for once when Field Marshal Pirin rose unsteadily to his feet.

I had noticed that he’d been drinking more than his share of red wine all evening, holding up his glass to be refilled again and again. He had had a good swig at all the toasts whether they applied to him or not. Now he grabbed his glass and launched into a speech in what had to be Bulgarian. I don’t think anyone else understood, but he went on and on, his speech slurred a little, his face beetroot red, then he thumped the table and finished with what was obviously a toast to Bulgaria and Romania. He drained his glass in one large glug. Then his eyes opened wide in surprise, he made a gagging noise in his throat and he fell forward into what remained of his plate of wild boar.