Descent Into Madness by Catherine Woods-Field Page B

Instead, I enjoyed my time among the elite of Buda, disguised as a widowed Countess.               My marital status and lack of familial connection in Hungary was often a topic of courtly gossip. There was much speculation as to why I had not remarried- when I would marry and to whom I should be married. Suitors played the game nightly, making my hand – and the supposed purse it contained – a prize to be won.
                  I fed off these men, each one. I stole their essence while luring them in with the promise of riches and the ability continue their lineage. How short and insignificant their lives really were. They wanted nothing more than for someone to be theirs, to have something to possess, to devour completely. It was such a shame, a real pity that I could not return their devotion.
                  But my heart hardened after Aksel. I was resolved not to fall in love. Nor would I ever again plague those I loved with this curse.
                  I spent years fending off suitors, attending balls, and enjoying what I could of a solitary, restful life in Buda. Existence carried on smoothly without Aksel, and I was at peace with myself. I came and went as I wished, kept a modest house, and answered to no one. I was not missing his sulking for a minute.
                  A majority of my time while alone, though, was not spent in fancy balls. Elaborate gowns – Italian silks, French ribbons and Persian lace - I laid aside for simple cotton garments, while biding my time in the Royal Library of Buda's Royal Palace. My candle and I submerged in the stacks, lost in the library’s vast literary treasures until the birds began to wake.
                  I devoured the codices - of which there must have been over 2000 – and savored the incunabula they kept there, safe and preserved. Histories, plays, literature, I perused them all. I experienced the words - absorbing each syllable in my mind, holding them there as one holds their breath, until my head ached with abundance. My candles would burn out, forcing me to light another. Dawn would threaten to approach, forcing my retreat, only to return the next night and the night after, and the night after that.               Those were the merriest times I spent in Hungary, there in that library, amongst ratty tomes of forgotten lore and newly, blocked volumes. The smell of the ink, the crispness of the paper, the smooth feel of the leather binding between my fingers… it was all very intoxicating.               Change comes with all things in life, seasons, people… relationships. Eventually, it happened with Buda, once more spoiling the city.
                  My fondness for the city, and even the country of Hungary, had grown over time. I walked its streets during the age of early absolutism, as the Renaissance King, Mathias Corvinus, ruled. His reign experienced great expansion, both southward and northwesterly. King Corvinus was a ruler of the people, and the common folk adored him immensely.
                  His legacy, the Bibliotheca Corviniana, was like none other. The Bibliotheca was an expansive collection of historical chronicles, scientific and philosophic works - Europe's premiere collection. The Vatican's own collection was the only one that could hold a candle to it, but those were mostly religious volumes.
                  By then, though, I had seen all the Royal Library had to show me – the Bibliotheca Corviniana included. I was ready to bid adieu to the paprika-laden peoples of Buda in order to create new beginnings – to reinvent myself, as my kind must always do. Always running, and never staying still for long.
                  Wanderlust had pierced my disinterested heart with its visions of splendid new places and exotic locales. So one night, after my belongings were packed and my preparations made, I once