An ancient castle rose out of the forest, like a fairy-tale giant sleeping while sitting. The black angular bulk that obscured the dim November stars made us vividly recall the times of civil strife and bloody massacre. The cloaks of the Teutons crossed out with a black cross and the bright zhupans of the Cossack ghoul freemen. It seemed as if you would jump off your horse, press your forehead against the mossy stones, icy to the touch, and stand until the morning, listening to the legends of the gray centuries.