The Tower of Ravens

by Kate Forsyth

  ‘Fèlice! We must get away from here. Fèlice! Wake up! Fèlice!’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Fèlice said sleepily.

  ‘We must get away from here. They mean us evil, I ken it. We must wake up Nina and Iven, and the others, and get out, somehow, I dinna ken how, we must get away as fast and quiet as we can …’

  ‘Rhiannon, ye’re gabbling! What’s the matter with ye?’

  As Rhiannon tried to explain, Fèlice sat up and laid a hand on her forehead and then on her cheek. ‘Rhiannon, your hands and feet are like ice! And your head is boiling hot. Look at ye, ye’re shivering.’

  ‘Cold, so cold,’ Rhiannon muttered, and shuddered as she realised she had echoed the refrain of the ghostly boy.

  ‘Let me put some more wood on the fire, get ye warm.’

  ‘Never mind about that,’ Rhiannon said impatiently, though she gratefully huddled under the counterpane Fèlice pulled close around her. ‘We have to get away. There are ghosts, Fèlice, hundreds o’ them …’

  ‘Ye and your ghosts,’ Fèlice said, suppressing a yawn. She dragged her dressing-gown around her and got out of bed. ‘This is the second time tonight ye’ve woken me gabbling about ghosts. I wish I’d slept with Edithe, ye’re a most unrestful bed partner.’ She threw some wood on the ashes of the fire, stirred it once or twice with the poker, and then caused the logs to burst into flame with a wave of her hand. She yawned again, so widely that Rhiannon could not help yawning also, and climbed back into bed.

  ‘Nay, nay, we have to get up, we have to go,’ Rhiannon said feverishly.

  ‘It’s the middle o’ the bloody night, for Eà’s sake! We canna go anywhere. Now go back to sleep and in the morning I’ll get ye some o’ that wine Cameron kept raving about. I think ye must’ve caught the boys’ cold.’

  ‘I do no’ want wine,’ Rhiannon said, sitting up in bed, clutching the bedclothes to her chin. ‘Are ye no’ listening? They’re murderers, the lot o’ them.’

  ‘Who? Who are murderers?’

  ‘Everyone! Everyone in the castle.’

  ‘Oh, Rhiannon! Go back to sleep, please.’

  ‘Sleep? How can I sleep? Did ye no’ hear me? I saw ghosts, the ghosts o’ murdered boys, and then I saw them, the laird and lady, working some kind o’ evil to bring back the dead …’

  ‘Ye were just dreaming, Rhiannon. Come, ye’re not well, and this place is enough to give anyone nightmares. Lie down, and let me tuck ye up, ye’re shivering. In the morning ye’ll feel better, I promise.’

  ‘I must tell Nina …’

  ‘Ye can tell her in the morning. There’s naught ye can do now. Ow, your feet are freezing! Let me warm the bedpan for ye. There, that’s better. Go to sleep now.’

  ‘No! I must tell Nina now. Do ye no’ understand? They mean us evil!’

  Fèlice hesitated. ‘Happen I’d better wake Nina. I think ye’re really ill.’

  ‘Aye, aye, wake her,’ Rhiannon said desperately.

  Fèlice nodded and went quickly out the door. Rhiannon sighed and let her head sink down onto her pillow. Her bones felt as heavy as stone. In a few minutes, Nina came hurrying into the room with Fèlice close behind.

  ‘Rhiannon! What’s wrong?’

  Rhiannon dragged herself away from the pillow. ‘We must get away from here,’ she said, clutching at Nina’s hand. ‘Oh, Nina, it was awful.’ She did her best to describe what she had seen that night, but her tongue seemed more wooden than ever and she was so very weary she could hardly keep her head from drooping back down to the pillow. It was like talking through mud. Nina took her wrist in one hand, and felt her forehead with the other.

  ‘Your pulse is tumultuous,’ she said. ‘Lie back, Rhiannon. Here, have a sip o’ water.’

  Rhiannon drank gratefully, for she was indeed parched, then she tried again to describe all she had seen to Nina, plucking at her sleeve with nervy fingers. Nina seemed not to understand the dreadful urgency of Rhiannon’s news, patting her soothingly and telling her not to fret, to lie down and rest.

  ‘Nay, nay,’ Rhiannon cried, resisting all attempts to push her down on the pillow. ‘We must flee, now!’

  ‘How can we?’ Nina said reasonably. ‘It is dark, and raining still, and Maisie is very sick. The road is blocked by that fallen tree, remember, and even if it wasn’t, how could we get away without rousing the whole castle? It would be unpardonably rude.’

  Rhiannon laughed wildly. ‘Rude! She worries about being rude!’

  ‘Rest now, my dear, and we’ll make ready to leave as soon as we possibly can. As long as ye’re well enough.’

  ‘Me fine!’ Rhiannon felt hot tears of frustration scald her cheeks. A sudden paroxysm of coughing shook her. When at last it passed she could not speak for exhaustion.

  ‘Lie back, my dear. I’ll just be a moment.’ Nina pushed her back onto the pillows gently and went out of the room, telling Fèlice to stay with a quick gesture. Rhiannon scrubbed her cheeks dry and laid her arm across her face, hiding her hot tender eyes. She felt Fèlice stroking back her tumbled hair and was obscurely comforted. For a long while there was silence, and Rhiannon felt herself sliding towards sleep. She tried to cling to consciousness, but the gentle stroking hand on her forehead and the irresistible softness of her pillows dragged at her. She let herself drift for a moment.

  The sound of quick footsteps roused her. She felt peculiar, as if she had fallen into a dark well of time where minutes, perhaps even hours, had passed without her knowing. She struggled to sit up, opening her bleary eyes.

  Dedrie was leaning over her. At once Rhiannon cried out and cowered away.

  ‘I’m sorry, I startled ye,’ the nursemaid said. ‘Ye have a fever. Here, have a sip o’ this.’

  Rhiannon clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. The motion caused pain to shoot through her temples.

  ‘It will make ye feel better.’

  Rhiannon put one hand to her throbbing head, and shook it again, more gently this time. Her head felt strangely large, and her feet seemed a long way away. Her arms were so limp it took a great effort to move them.

  ‘My lady? Would ye mind? Our wee patient willna take her medicine from me. Happen she will from ye.’

  Nina came into Rhiannon’s field of vision, leaning over the bed. She held the cup for Rhiannon to sip, but Rhiannon still refused. She would have liked to have pointed at Dedrie and accused her, but she dared not. Had Dedrie been one of those red-cloaked figures in the ruined tower? Rhiannon did not know, but she viewed any intimate of Lord Malvern’s with great suspicion now. She did her best to communicate her distress with nothing but her eyes and facial muscles, but Nina only looked puzzled and alarmed, saying in her beautiful voice, ‘Do no’ fear, Rhiannon, it is only something to ease the cough and the fever. It’ll make ye feel better.’

  When Rhiannon persisted in her refusal, Nina stepped back, looking troubled. Dedrie stepped up to the bed briskly, saying, ‘She’s delirious, look at her! See how much her head aches, the way she turns her face on the pillow. We must bring down her fever.’ Then, so suddenly Rhiannon had no time to react, the nursemaid clamped her hand over Rhiannon’s nose, the heel of her palm pressing Rhiannon’s head back into the pillow. Rhiannon tried to heave herself away but the nursemaid was surprisingly strong. Rhiannon opened her mouth to protest, and immediately Dedrie tipped in the medicine, then grabbed Rhiannon’s chin, forcing her mouth shut so she could not turn her head and spit the mixture out. It tasted foul. Rhiannon choked and spluttered, but the hands on her forehead and chin were inexorable, and the weight of the nurse’s upper arms pressed so heavily upon her body that she could hardly move.

  Rhiannon heaved her body upright, sending the nursemaid sprawling, and spewed the medicine into her face. She gasped for breath, the inside of her mouth and throat feeling as if they had been blistered raw.

  Dedrie cried out and groped for the damp face cloth, urgently wiping her face clean.

  ‘She’s trying to poison me,’ Rhiann
on cried.

  ‘Rhiannon!’ Nina said in gentle reproof.

  ‘Nay, nay, that’s no poison, though I’ll warrant it tastes foul enough,’ Dedrie said. ‘It’s my borage syrup. It has thyme in it as well, and various other things, but no poison, I promise ye. Och, ye’re burning up, my lass. No wonder ye’re so wild.’

  Rhiannon swatted away the nurse’s hand, scowling ferociously. Her mouth tasted disgusting.

  ‘Here, have some o’ my elderflower wine, to wash the taste away,’ Dedrie said soothingly. ‘It’ll ease that cough too.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It’s your choice but I promise ye it’ll help.’

  ‘Nina!’

  ‘There, there, Rhiannon, ye’re ill. Have a sip o’ the wine then lie back and try to get some sleep.’

  ‘Get that cursehag away from me. She’s trying to kill me!’

  Dedrie shook her head sorrowfully. ‘Completely delirious. The fever can take ye like this sometimes. It makes them very hard to nurse. She really needs to swallow some o’ the syrup, my lady. Such high fevers are dangerous. Will ye help me hold her down?’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Aye, it is. Fever o’ the brain is very dangerous. Ye do no’ want it to kill her, do ye?’

  ‘Kill her? O’ course no’!’

  ‘Then help me get some o’ the medicine into her. I canna break her fever without it.’

  Nina looked at the small dark bottle in Dedrie’s hand in perturbation. ‘Is she really that ill?’

  ‘Look at her, she’s raving!’

  ‘I no’ raving!’ Rhiannon said desperately. ‘Nina, ye must believe me. Do no’ listen to this cursehag! She’s one o’ them. She’s trying to kill me. She kens what I saw …’

  The nursemaid suddenly stepped forward and deftly tipped another measure of medicine into Rhiannon’s mouth. Taken by surprise Rhiannon choked and spluttered, involuntarily swallowing a mouthful. It tasted like slime. Incoherent with anger, she swung at the nursemaid, punching her so hard Dedrie went flying back and crashed to the floor. The medicine bottle flew out of her hand and smashed in the hearth, the fire leaping up like hissing green adders.

  Dedrie sat on the floor in a welter of skirts, one hand to her temple, the other bracing her on the floor. For a moment her face was white as paper, her eyes looking like hard brown pebbles, her lips drawn back and stiff with rage. She took a deep gasping breath as Nina flew to her assistance. Dedrie’s eyes bored into Rhiannon’s with such unmistakable enmity that Rhiannon could not believe Nina was helping her up and stammering apologies. The very next instant the colour came back to her cheeks and the rigidity of her features relaxed.

  ‘Obh obh!’ she said reassuringly. ‘Never ye mind, my lady. It’s no’ the first time a delirious patient has struck out at me. Never ye mind about me, I’ll be fine. I’ll rub in some arnica cream later and the bruise’ll soon fade, never ye worry. But she’s gone and broken the bottle and all the borage syrup is spilt. Luckily I have some more. It may take me some time to find it, though. Ye go and get yourself ready for breakfast, and leave the poor lass to me.’

  ‘I am so very sorry,’ Nina said again. ‘I do hope ye are no’ hurt.’

  Dedrie rubbed at the purpling bruise. ‘I must admit she took me by surprise. Never ye mind. What she needs now is sleep. I’ll bring up some more medicine later, and one o’ the maids to help me, and she’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time.’

  ‘Tell her to go away, Nina! I need to talk to ye,’ Rhiannon said desperately.

  ‘No talking,’ Dedrie said firmly to Nina. ‘Hear how hoarse her voice is? She needs peace and quiet. She’ll feel much better after some rest.’

  ‘Dinna need rest!’ Rhiannon said forcefully and tried to sit up. The movement made the pounding in her head come back, but she ignored it, reaching out her hands to Nina. ‘Nina, please, listen to me.’ Her throat was so sore it was hard to speak.

  Nina hesitated.

  ‘Later,’ Dedrie said firmly. ‘She’s delirious, canna ye see that? Let her sleep, and she can tell ye about her nightmares later.’

  ‘Very well then,’ Nina nodded, and allowed Dedrie to usher her and Fèlice from the room. Rhiannon moved her head restlessly on the pillow, tears choking her so she could not, for a moment, cry out or protest. By the time she had swallowed her tears, Dedrie had gathered up the dirty washing, taken the spent lantern, and gone quietly away, leaving the room dim and quiet.

  Tears spilled over. Rhiannon scrubbed them away furiously, and cautiously heaved herself upright. She did feel very odd indeed. Her chest hurt, her head ached, and she felt utterly exhausted. When she swung her legs out of bed, a wave of dizziness washed over her and she clutched at the bedpost to steady herself. She sat for a moment, waiting for her vision to recover. Then she looked for her boots, but they were gone from the side of the bed. Her cloak was gone too. This frightened her. She was trembling all over with the cold, despite the fire glowing in the hearth. Slowly Rhiannon made her way to the cupboard where she had hidden her saddlebags, holding on to the furniture to steady herself. She found her shawl and wrapped it tightly round her grubby, mud-streaked nightgown. Then she made her way to the door, opening it a crack and listening. There was a low murmur of voices from Iven and Nina’s room.

  When she felt certain she could not hear Dedrie’s voice, Rhiannon went down the hallway, one hand on the wall, and opened the door.

  Nina and Fèlice were there, and all of the others too, even Maisie with her head swathed in bandages. The shutters were open, showing a clear sky just brightening with dawn. Outside the windows, ravens hovered in the wind, calling sadly. Roden sat up in bed, drinking a cup of milk. Nina, looking distressed, was telling everyone what had happened. Everyone was talking excitedly. As Rhiannon came in, they turned in surprise. Nina got at once to her feet and came forward swiftly, remonstrating with her. Lewen stood up also, looking worried.

  ‘Ye should be resting,’ Nina scolded.

  Rhiannon took a deep breath. ‘Canna rest. Nina, can ye no’ see what’s going on? We canna stay here, we must get away just as fast as we can. They’re evil, every one o’ them. I heard them … what the word? Say true?’

  ‘Confess?’ Lewen said.

  ‘Aye, confess. I heard them confess to murdering people, lots o’ people. And I saw their ghosts.’

  Cameron shook his head. ‘That was some nightmare.’

  ‘No nightmare! I saw truly. Boys, lots o’ dead boys. And in the Tower, more ghosts, hundreds o’ them, thousands o’ them. Too many to count.’

  ‘Rhiannon, my dear, indeed ye are no’ well,’ Nina said, putting her arm about her. ‘Please, ye must get back to bed.’

  Rhiannon broke free. ‘No! We must get away. Canna ye feel how evil this place is? Why do ye no’ believe me?’

  ‘It’s no’ that I do no’ believe ye, dear,’ Nina replied, her voice as troubled as her face. ‘It is just … well, we canna get away now. Ye are unwell, and Maisie too, and the road is blocked …’

  ‘It is a trap,’ Rhiannon said with conviction. ‘They want to kill us too. He said … the laird said … they like to see how many times they can kill a man and bring him back to life.’

  A shocked murmur rose.

  ‘When?’ Edithe said sceptically. ‘When did the laird say this? To ye? He confessed all this to ye last night? Oh, please!’

  ‘No’ to me,’ Rhiannon answered. ‘He did no’ ken I was there. I was listening, watching.’

  ‘Spying?’ Edithe said nastily.

  ‘Och, aye, spying,’ Rhiannon said impatiently. ‘They were there in the Tower, nine o’ them …’

  ‘Nine?’ Nina asked sharply.

  ‘Aye, nine, all dressed in long red robes with hoods. I could no’ see their faces.’

  ‘But ye ken it was the laird and lady,’ Edithe said.

  ‘Aye, o’ course. They raised a ghost, a man, the laird’s dead brother. They said it was too good an opportunity to miss, it bei
ng a dark moon. But then another ghost came. A lady.’

  ‘I thought ye said there were hundreds o’ ghosts,’ Cameron said, nudging Rafferty and smirking.

  ‘Aye, there were.’ A fit of coughing came over Rhiannon, so fierce she thought she would cough up her heart. Nina supported her, rubbing her back. When at last it subsided, Rhiannon was too exhausted to speak. She leant on Nina and listened to the others’ scepticism.

  ‘Loss o’ blood will do that to ye,’ Cameron was saying, grinning. ‘She’s been cutting herself every night, Fèlice says. Seeing ghosts everywhere. Barmy.’ And he rotated one finger round and round near his ear.

  Fèlice cast Rhiannon an apologetic glance. ‘She’s sick,’ she said defensively.

  ‘No wonder,’ Cameron replied.

  ‘It was just a nightmare,’ Edithe said. ‘Ye slept with her, Fèlice. She was there all night, wasn’t she?’

  Fèlice shrugged, looking uncomfortable. ‘I think so. I mean, I was asleep. She woke me a few times, thrashing round and calling out. She thought she saw a ghost standing over us.’

  ‘Delirious,’ Edithe said.

  ‘People have rotten dreams when they’re sick,’ Landon said defensively. ‘And we’ve heard so many terrible stories since we came here. I dreamt o’ ghostly boys too, last night.’

  ‘Dreams can seem very real sometimes,’ Iven said comfortingly. ‘Especially when ye’ve got a fever.’

  ‘No’ a dream,’ Rhiannon said angrily. She unwrapped her shawl. ‘Look at my nightgown! Would it be this dirty if I had no’ been crawling around in the mud in it?’

  Cameron sniggered, and Rhiannon felt blood surge up her face.

  ‘Walking in her sleep?’ Edithe hazarded.

  ‘No, walking awake! The laddie came and took me to his room, and showed me all the dead boys. He wants me to help them.’

  ‘Och, sure, indeed,’ Cameron said. ‘He came to ye. Why no’ Nina, or Iven, I wonder?’

  ‘Because I can see him, I think,’ Rhiannon said flatly, and sat down abruptly. She clenched her hands together to hide their trembling.