Текст книги "The Vampire Affair"

Автор книги: David McDaniel

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Hanevitch opened his mouth as though to register a complaint against the whole situation, then looked at Illya's face again and decided not to. "Very well," he said, "but I leave when the sun does."

"And that's not long," said Hilda.

"All the more reason to hurry," said Illya shortly, and started to pull aside the bushes.

He was still searching when the shadow of a mountain peak to the west crept across the trees, and he felt a chill gust of wind. It was followed closely by Colonel Hanevitch, dusting off his hands.

"The sun is gone," he said, "and there is no sign of your cave."

"There is still daylight," said Illya, "and I want to find this cave. For all I know it may move if we leave it again."

The Colonel went reluctantly back to work, and the sky grew slowly darker. At length Illya came to the place where Hilda's search had started. He shook his head in frustration, and hurried to catch up with her.

The light was failing now. Illya looked around the corner of the hill in search of Hilda, and saw Colonel Hanevitch twenty or thirty yards away, hurrying towards him. They met, and the Colonel spoke first.

"Where is Domnisoara Eclary?"

"I thought she was with you," Illya answered, "or somewhere between us."

There was a giggle from behind them, and the Colonel spun around. "Cine-i?" he barked. "Who's there?"

Then the bushes parted, not ten feet away, and Hilda's face looked out with an impish grin. "I found your cave," she said. "I wondered how long it would take you." She pushed the bushes back and stepped out, revealing a tall narrow crevasse in the rock which Illya recognized instantly.

"Your little joke has cost us time," he said. "I have no special desire to stay here after dark, but I intend to investigate that cave as fully as possible in the time remaining." He held out his hand to the Colonel. "Flashlight?"

The Colonel unclipped it from his belt and handed it over. Illya pulled the bushes aside and stepped into the cave. And as he did so, all three of them heard the howl of a wolf far back in the forest. Illya only paused for a moment, then went on into the cave.

"Ah, Domn Kuryakin..."

"Yes, I heard it. But I intend to see where the gentleman we met here last night came from, and where he returned to when he left us so abruptly."

There was a rustling sound from the bushes behind them, and a moment later the Colonel and Hilda were standing beside him. "We'll help you look," Hilda suggested brightly.

Illya went on towards the back of the cave, carefully examining the wall on his left as he went. The cave was not deep, and he reached the end in seven paces. He spent some time examining the back wall, and then began working his way along the other side towards the entrance again. At last he stopped, facing Hilda and the Colonel with a look of frustration and puzzlement.

"It looks solid," he admitted grudgingly.

In answer there was another wolf-howl, closer than the last. "And that sounds solid," said the Colonel quickly. "Domnul Kuryakin, I intend to return to the village at once. I would not like to have your death on my conscience, so I must request you to accompany me."

"Please, Illya," said Hilda. "There's nothing in this cave."

"There was last night," said Illya stubbornly. "That man we saw was as solid as you are. And he didn't come through a rock wall." His eyes flicked around the cave one more time. His words were definite, but his voice had just a trace of doubt as he said, "He couldn't have come through a rock wall...."

* * *

Illya spoke Rumanian without a trace of an accent, and that evening he inveigled some of the regular customers of the inn into conversation about the recent goings-on. Most of them, it seemed, were inclined to shrug off the fuss about vampires in the forest. Only one or two of the old men nodded shaggy wolf-gray heads and said, "Yes—the old Voivode is back again. He will kill a few fools and then go back to sleep."

"Fools?" said Illya.

"No man grows old who is not wise. And no wise man would go into the forest without a silver crucifix about his neck—especially at night. Young man, you may not see or hear of vampires in the city. They do not like the bright lights, and the noises are strange there. But here they come once in a while, and we learn to keep ourselves safe from them."

Illya looked around the room at the other men and women who sat unconcernedly about the fire, mugs of beer and glasses of wine in their hands. Only the old folks seemed to have their tales and fears, but...

"Ask anyone, young man. Oh, these young people have so much modern nonsense poured into them they are ashamed to do what they know is right—but they wear the cross, and they stay home at night. And I'll wager there's not a house in the village that hasn't a few bits of garlic along the windowsills and doorstep."

"Garlic won't stop wolves," said Illya. "Neither will a crucifix."

The old man peered at him through time-dimmed eyes. "Aren't you the young man who was chased by the wolves last night? Heard about that. You met the old Voivode too, didn't you? You were lucky, young man. Either he thought you were one of his own, or he had just fed.

"Now, wolves won't bother you if you've got sense enough to stay out of the woods after dark. Oh, sometimes they come into town, but they won't come through barred doors, and their master, he won't go in past silver and garlic. So we don't worry about it much. No sense in getting fussed; take care of yourself and you'll be safe enough." And he returned to his wine.

Illya was discussing this some time later that evening with the Colonel. Hilda had gone to bed back in her own room, and they were seated in the room to which the U.N.C.L.E. agents had been moved after the incident which had welcomed them to Pokol two nights before.

Illya shook his head. "They seem to think vampires are the same sort of natural menace as rats or mosquitoes," he said wonderingly. "You kill them if you get a chance, and the rest of the time you protect yourself against them and hope they go away."

"Not an unreasonable attitude," said Colonel Hanevitch. "To these people they are very real, and it would be foolhardy not to take precautions. But they see no reason to become excited and frightened of something which they have known about all their lives, just because it is closer than usual. It cannot harm them if they are careful. Only people who know little about the vampire are frightened by him."

"But it is unreasonable," said Illya. "Because if it's not a vampire, but someone masquerading as one, then when you least expect it he will prove invulnerable to your crosses and your garlic, and you will not have your guns and handcuffs ready to take him."

There was a heavy thump from the next room, and both heads swiveled to stare at the wall as though it might become transparent. The noise was not repeated, but after a moment Illya rose silently to his feet, his U.N.C.L.E. Special gripped in his right hand. He moved to the door, opened it, and peered cautiously out into the deserted hall.

Suddenly he heard Hilda scream in terror.

In three quick steps he was at the door to Hilda's room, Hanevitch behind him with his thumb on the hammer of his Tokarev, which was now on full-cock. Without pausing, Illya threw the door open wide and leaped into the room.

The light from the hall fell on a blood-chilling sight. Hilda was lying on the floor beside the bed, her hair disarranged and framing her pale face. She had fainted. The window behind her stood open, and the freezing night wind ruffled her nightgown. And she was not alone.

Standing over her, looking down on her with a fearful smile of triumph on his face, was the being they had met in the cave—Voivode Tsepesh Stobolzny. Now there could be no doubt of his identity. The thin lips, the high narrow nose, the heavy-lidded eyes which now stood wide open, staring at the door—all these were very clear to see.

He straightened up from a crouch over the girl's body as the door slammed open, and now his cloak billowed about him in the wind from the opened casement. His face was a ghastly white, with his mouth a scarlet gash against it. His eyes seemed to gleam as he looked at them and saw Illya's automatic. His lips parted, and a horrible dry rasping chuckle came from them.

The gun thundered and bucked in Illya's hand before he was conscious of the act of firing. The Count was rocked for a moment by the impact of the slug, but then he stepped forward again, over Hilda's body towards them. Illya fired again without effect, then leaped straight for the vampire.

Stobolzny struck at the U.N.C.L.E. agent, and Illya went spinning to the floor, where he lay dazed from the blow. Hanevitch fired one around from his Tokarev, then dropped it and sprang to one side.

The table had been laid for breakfast, and a cloth draped over the service. In a flash Hanevitch whipped off the covers and seized two silver knives from the table. Clenching one in each hand, he crossed the blades at right angles before him and advanced towards the vampire. "Begone, you fiend of Satan!" he cried.

Illya, dazed but still conscious, saw the Count stop and shrink back. He made a futile gesture at the Colonel, then raised one cloak-draped arm to cover his eyes. Hanevitch took another step forward. "Go!" he ordered. "Back to the darkness from whence you came!"

The Count fell back as the Colonel advanced, holding the cross of silver before him like a shield. Then the window was behind him, and he turned quickly, spread his cloak and leaped out into the fog and was gone.

Illya staggered to his feet and stumbled to the window a moment later. The fog was not so thick that they could not see the ground—and, as before, there was no indication beneath them that anyone had leaped from this third-floor window. He looked up, and saw only fog, and darkness. He pulled his head back, closed the window, latched it securely, and lit a lamp.

Colonel Hanevitch was still standing over Hilda's unconscious body, looking down at the knives in his hands. "I am a Communist," he was saying in a dazed voice. "I am a good, faithful, dedicated atheist Communist. I am a sincere atheist Communist. Bozhe moi!" And he dropped the knives and sat rather heavily upon the bed.

Suddenly Illya felt his knees begin to shake, just a little. He knew what he had just seen was impossible, and he understood how the Colonel felt. Just knowing something isn't enough, especially when you have just had it very plainly disproved to you.

He knelt beside Hilda and lifted her head. She was beginning to stir, and he looked quickly at her throat. Clean. They had arrived just in time. A minute later might have been too late....

Section III: "Into The Darkness Where The Undead Wait."

Chapter 9: "The Only Way Out Is Through."

Napoleon and Zoltan arrived long after midnight, and Napoleon crept into his room at the inn quietly so as not to awaken his partner. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed a dark-haired figure in his bed, and he halted half-way across the room.

"It's Hilda," said the soft, wide-awake voice of Illya from the next bed. "She made up the couch for you, in case you came back tonight after all."

Napoleon recognized her face now in the darkness. As he turned to the couch she suddenly rolled over and came awake with a stifled scream.

"Oh! Napoleon, I didn't recognize you in the dark."

He sighed deeply. "Okay, what did I miss tonight? Did Illya break a window this time?"

"Nothing so simple, I'm afraid," said his partner. "Colonel Hanevitch and I were in here talking, Hilda had gone to bed, and we heard her scream. When we came in, the Count was standing over her—leaning over her, actually, just about to sink his fangs into her throat. I fired point-blank at him twice, and...well, perhaps I missed. Then he knocked me down. Hanevitch drove him away"—Illya's voice seemed to catch, but he continued steadily—"with two silver knives forming a cross. He went out the open window, and disappeared into the night."

There was several seconds' silence while this sank in, and then Napoleon spoke. "Well...outside of that, how was your day?"

"Napoleon, this is past joking," said Hilda, with a tremor in her voice. She sat up in bed with the covers pulled around her and one flannel-clad arm resting across her knees. "I don't know what almost happened to me tonight, but I'm not ashamed to admit I'm terrified." She pointed at the windows. "Look."

Solo moved quietly across the room as Illya turned on his bedside lamp. There were garlands of some kind around the frame, and as he came closer, he could smell the odor of garlic. Then he saw the buds interwoven with the whitish flowers and nodded.

"It's like the old story of the man scattering strips of paper from the train in Vermont," he said. "He told his seat-mate it would keep elephants away. 'But there aren't any elephants in Vermont,' the other guy said. 'Yes—effective, isn't it?'"

Illya snorted a little. "What happened to you in Brasov? Suddenly you're cynical again."

"I found out a few things, mostly background on our mysterious Count Tsepesh. And Zoltan got himself chased by a mob again—one of these days they're going to catch him. And we met a gentleman by the name of Ackerman. American, knows everything worth knowing about vampires, and doesn't believe in them for a minute. Very intelligent, very entertaining, and a fine host. As soon as he heard Zoltan's name, he insisted on buying us dinner, and we talked vampires all through it. Historical backgrounds of the legends, a few real blood-fixated psychotics, real vampire bats, and so on. I feel much better about the whole thing now."

Illya nodded slowly. "We found the cave today," he said, "after a remarkable amount of trouble. The path was covered with brush—and so was the mouth of the cave. And the cave was solid all the way around; back, sides, floor and ceiling. You were there. How did the Count get in and out? How did he drive away those wolves?"

"Well, I'm sure there's a logical..."

"You weren't here tonight, Napoleon. I didn't miss that creature in Hilda's room. I was ten feet away from him. My gun was not filled with blanks. He went out a third-floor window and disappeared into the fog."

"... logical rational explanation."

Illya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he shook his head. "I wish I could have met this Mr. Ackerman," he said. "I'd feel a lot happier if I could be convinced of that." He looked up at Napoleon, the faintest of smiles beginning to show on his face. "That couch will be comparatively uncomfortable, you know. Why don't you simply trade beds with Hilda tonight? Sleep in her room."

Napoleon thought about this for several seconds. "Wellllll, I...I'd better stay in here. Mr. Waverly has warned us about compromising situations while on assignment, and you should have a chaperone."

Illya nodded, a satisfied look on his face. "Very good, Napoleon—a logical, rational reason for staying here." He leaned back on his pillow, drew up the covers, and switched off the light. "Good night—and pleasant dreams."

* * *

They all slept late the next morning, and it was getting on towards noon before they met downstairs for breakfast.

Zoltan had been unable to find much definite information on the current ownership or occupancy of the castle—it had been sold to a firm of developers for possible use as a vacation resort. The skiing was good in the mountains, and even this late there was snow on the peaks above the village. But nothing had come of it. The castle was still the property of this firm, which had apparently gone into receivership some few years ago, and as to its present tenancy nothing could be determined.

"I am becoming convinced," Zoltan concluded, "that the answer to all our questions lies within the walls of Castle Stobolzny."

"Fine," said Hilda. "I suppose you'll walk up to the front gate, ring a bell, tell whoever answers, 'My name is Dracula; would you like to hire an assistant?' and see what happens?"

"In fact, no. I was thinking more of going in by a more devious route." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "As you know, I grew up in that castle—at least for some few years. A boy does a lot of exploring, and keeps his discoveries secret. The place is honeycombed with secret passages, some of which not even my grandfather knew about. And some of them lead to the outside."

"And since we're outside already," said Napoleon brightly, "they would lead inside just as easily."

"Exactly. The three of us will make the venture this evening. If you have not lost your courage of last night, that is."

Napoleon smiled and shook his head.

Zoltan looked at Illya, and asked the same question silently with a cant of his eyebrows.

Illya moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, and said, "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Hilda looked from him to Zoltan, and back again. Her jaw dropped just slightly. "You're mad," she said. "You really are! There's nothing you could do in there but get yourselves killed!—or worse!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Illya lightly. "If we find him, we could always drive a stake through his heart."

Hilda shook her head. "And not only that—you're planning on going in there and leaving me all alone. Well, if you're going in there, I'm certainly going with you."

All three of them started to object, but she raised her hand. "No, I'm perfectly serious," she said. "I would be more afraid here, alone, than I would be there, with you three."

Napoleon, Zoltan and Illya looked at each other; then they looked at her a while. "I do believe she means it, boys," said Zoltan with a smile.

"Of course I do," Hilda said. "Now let's hear no more about it. When will we leave?"

"About four this afternoon. I know an entrance quite a ways down the hill from the castle, with no possible way of observing it from there. If there is an occupant, he won't know we're coming."

"Unless he's wired the entrance."

"Not likely; even my grandfather didn't know about this one. And if he has wired it, I must depend on your professional knowledge to get us past it undetected."

Illya nodded and raised his glass. "To tonight, then, and success."

They toasted all around, and settled down to finish breakfast with only slightly lessened appetites.

* * *

It seemed a short time later when they were walking quietly through a section of the woods strange to them, each armed with a handgun, a knife, and a large electric lantern. All were in peasant garb, in case they should be spotted by some legal resident of the castle.

Zoltan was looking around him doubtfully as they walked, and occasionally correcting their course. "After all," he said once, "it has been twenty-five years since I played here, and landmarks do change...."

Then he brightened. "There it is, I think. Behind that rock." And so it was. The entrance was just large enough to crawl into, and it was overgrown with weeds and brush, but it looked unoccupied. Illya checked it for wires and found no sign of any detection apparatus, so they all went in on hands and knees, Zoltan first, followed by Illya, followed by Hilda, with Napoleon bringing up the rear.

A few feet inside the lights were switched on, and the tunnel roof rose to a comfortable height. Comfortable for Hilda and Illya, that is—Napoleon and Zoltan had to stoop slightly.

"Odd," murmured the Rumanian. "I remember the passage as being much larger." Then he smiled at his own foolishness. "Of course, I was much smaller, too."

He beckoned them and they started forward.

The passage began to rise gently, then more steeply. Soon the floor became cut into steps, and they were climbing.

After a while Zoltan spoke again. "We may be in here for some time, and it would probably be best if we conserve our batteries. As leader and guide, I shall keep mine on. Napoleon, as last man, keep yours on. Hilda, you and Illya can switch yours off for the time being."

The darkness moved in a little closer as two of the lights went out, and the little group moved on.

They seemed to be plodding along, sometimes on the level and sometimes on a slope, never moving. Rough rock walls appeared ahead of them, moved slowly by, and vanished again into the pitch blackness behind them. Napoleon had started off counting paces, but soon lost track. He felt as though they had come into the very heart of the mountain down this tunnel, and it seemed endless. Perhaps it connected with the Bucharest subway system, he thought whimsically—or came out somewhere in northern Greece. No, they'd come too far for that; they must be approaching Athens now....A scrap of an old poem came back to him about a group of people claiming to have come from northern Germany to Transylvania underground; he was beginning to believe it. This must be an extension of the same tunnel....

And then there was a break in the wall ahead, and Zoltan motioned them to a stop. "We're now under the castle," he said softly. "There are many interconnecting passages, and they twist most confusingly, so stay close to me."

"Better than that," said Hilda, pulling something out of her pocket. "It's not a ball of twine, but a piece of chalk to blaze our trail through this labyrinth ought to come in handy."

"Clever girl," said Zoltan. "I am afraid I must admit I don't remember all these passages quite as well as I thought I did. Come along now, and we will make our way on up into the basement."

Napoleon pondered that statement for the next few minutes, and followed without thinking too much about Zoltan's bobbing light ahead of him, flickering as it was shadowed and obscured by the moving black silhouettes of Hilda and Illya. His own light illuminated the floor about his own feet and Illya's, and his attention was focused on that when he almost bumped into his partner.

He looked up, startled. Illya had stopped and was looking around. They were alone.

"Which way did they go?" Illya asked.

"I thought you were following Hilda," Napoleon said doubtfully.

Illya cleared his throat embarrassedly. "Well, I was. But I let my attention wonder, and when I looked up...she wasn't there. I'm afraid they were about fifteen feet ahead of us when I looked last—they must have turned into a side passage."

"Well, they can't be very far away." Napoleon raised his voice a little. "Hilda," he called softly. "Hilda?"

"Not so loud," Illya cautioned. "Remember, there may be someone asleep upstairs."

"I wouldn't mind that," Napoleon said drily. "I'm only worried about someone being awake."

He cupped his hands and called again, "Hilda! Zoltan!" in a penetrating stage whisper. There was no answer.

He shrugged. "What do we do now? Do you remember the last three turns we took?"

"We could wait here and hope to be found; it's more sensible than wandering about and getting ourselves even more lost."

Napoleon considered this. "Somehow," he admitted, "I don't feel quite as sensible as I did a few hours ago. I think we should cast about—carefully, of course—and look for Zoltan's chalk marks. When we find them, we can follow right along to wherever they are, and we won't be lost any more."

"Unless they are lost too."

Napoleon looked at him. "Optimist. Maybe your vampire got them."

Illya looked at him. "Under the circumstances," he said, "that's not especially funny."

"Sorry. Come on—let's get going. They couldn't have left us too far back. Let's start looking for likely places."

They started backtracking slowly, both lights scanning the walls for chalk marks. There were none. But eventually a passage opened off to their right—a wide stone-walled passage, which looked tall enough to stand up in.

They paused, and shot their lights around it. "Looks reasonable," said Napoleon. "They couldn't have left us much before here, and I don't see anything else that looks at all likely."

Illya nodded. "Let's give it a try. After all, we can't be any more lost than we are already."

"Oh, yes we can," said Napoleon cheerfully.

Illya considered the implications of the remark and scowled. "I've told you, Napoleon, that's not funny." He paused. "Perhaps it is. Try it on me again when we are out of here and my sense of humor has recovered somewhat."

They started off down the hall, rock ceiling arching overhead, rock floor underfoot, spots of light sweeping back and forth ahead of them, and darkness pressing close behind.

Chapter 10: "The Coffin Is Empty."

Their footsteps echoed weirdly around them as they moved through the silent tunnels. At first Napoleon called Hilda's name, or Zoltan's, but each time his voice awoke whispering echoes that went muttering off into the distance. Finally he just watched for reasonable places to turn, and turned there, checking each time for chalk marks.

At last there was one. It was a neat blue chalk "X" just below eye-level, and just above a short arrow pointing to the left. Napoleon heaved a sigh of relief. "There we are," he said to his partner. "They must have come this way. Now we can hurry along and catch them."

"I hope so," said Illya. "This place is beginning to get on my nerves."

There were no marks at the next three intersections, but the fourth had another "X" and an arrow pointing to the right. They took the turn unhesitatingly. There were no intersections and no marks for several minutes, and the tunnel rose higher. Then it turned left and right as it climbed until Napoleon began to get dizzy.

Finally he paused. "I thought of bringing a compass when we left the inn," he said. "But then I said to myself, 'No, we'll have a trustworthy native guide.' And I didn't bring it."

"Next time you'll know better," said Illya.

"Probably not," said Napoleon. "I'm just too trusting, I guess."

They continued climbing. At last a passage opened to their left, and a few feet farther another opened to their right. Neither one had any mark on it. The passage climbed higher. After a while another pair of passages opened, and the right-hand one had an arrow chalked on its wall pointing into their passage. It was in white chalk.

Illya looked at it, and then said softly, "Napoleon..."

"What?"

"We've been following blue chalk marks."

"So?"

"I think...I'm not positive, but I think Hilda gave Zoltan a stick of white chalk."

"Do you think we found them now?"

"I don't know. Apparently these tunnels have been used by other people at other times, and some of them also used chalk. I think it was dreadfully inconsiderate of them not to have washed the walls down after they finished with them."

"So we may have been following some long-dead resident who liked to sneak down to the village without his wife finding out," said Napoleon with a shrug. "Since the tunnel's heading up, we're more likely to come out in the castle than out on a hillside; and as I recall, the original purpose of this expedition was to get inside the castle."

Illya nodded reluctantly, and lifted his light. "Further up and further in, then," he said resignedly.

"Further up and further in," Napoleon agreed.

* * *

There were no more chalk marks on the walls for a goodly distance. Then another white arrow turned them into a side path which ran along level for a ways and then turned down again.

Napoleon stood at the top of the incline and looked down. Illya stopped behind him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, really," said his partner. "Just that I've put so much energy into climbing this far, I hate to waste it by climbing down again."

"All right," said Illya. "You wait here, and if I ever get out, I'll send a rescue party for you."

"Never mind, never mind. It was just a thought."

They started down the steeply slanting tunnel, feet skidding slightly on the uneven floor. The tunnel leveled off then, and both of them stopped together, shining their lights ahead.

The floor of the tunnel rose sharply, but the ceiling didn't rise away from it. There was a mound of rubble which completely filled the tunnel—rubble impossible to date, other than by the fact that there was no dust in the air. It could have been there six hours, or two hundred years.

"I hope he made it back from the village before that happened," said Napoleon.

"Well," said Illya, "at least we know the white chalk isn't Zoltan's."

"Unless there's another passage we've overlooked."

"Wishful thinking. Come on, back up to the main tunnel."

* * *

The main tunnel continued to rise, wider now and with a paved floor. In the yellow light from their electric lanterns they could see smoke stains on the ceiling, and even occasional brackets that looked as if they had once held torches.

"Ah," said Napoleon. "Signs of civilization."

"We may be getting close to the inhabited parts of the castle," Illya murmured. "Let's cut back to one light."

He cut his off, and the darkness moved a little closer.

Eventually the passage grew inexplicably narrower, and then they turned a tight corner and the walls fell away on either side and disappeared. Suddenly they were in a room—a room of unguessable extent. Napoleon's flash found heavy carved beams ten or fifteen feet overhead, and a wall perhaps thirty feet away to their left. The rest was darkness.

He cast the light behind them for a moment, and saw they had come out of a narrow doorway between two great pairs of wooden trestles on which rested barrels of something—probably wine. Dust was heavy on the barrels, and so deep on the floor that it muffled their footsteps. No one had come that way for more years than he would care to contemplate.

Illya flicked his light on, and send it off into the darkness of the wine cellar. "Well," he whispered, "we're inside. Now what?"

"I guess we just keep looking," said Napoleon.

"What for?"

"I'll let you know when I see it."

They stayed close to the wall, and worked their way along to another door, oak-beamed and barred. It opened into another passage, which led to a flight of stone steps—leading down.

At the bottom of the stairs they found themselves in another room. The room was small, but as their lights traversed the walls, Napoleon felt his neck prickle. They were lined with plaques, each bearing a name and two dates. Some of them had small portraits engraved upon them.