Wolf in the Fold h&f-4

by Simon R. Green

  you've been here five months now."

  "Don't exaggerate, dear. It's four and a bit."

  "Are we the only guests?" said Hawk. "I can't believe we're the only Family come

  to pay our respects to the MacNeil."

  "There are other guests," said Jamie. "They're upstairs in their rooms at

  present, but they'll be joining us for a late breakfast soon. We keep very

  relaxed hours here, especially since the servants left. But it must be said

  there aren't nearly as many Family here as one might have wished for."

  "Why not?" asked Fisher bluntly.

  The three MacNeils exchanged a quick glance. "I take it you've never heard of

  the MacNeil Curse," said Jamie slowly. "Not really surprising, I suppose, buried

  as you are in the depths of Lower Markham. It's not something we're proud of,

  and we don't care to discuss it with outsiders. But since you are both Family,

  and you've come all this way to be here… The Curse is the reason why so few have

  come to pay their respects, even with the reading of the will to tempt them.

  It's why the servants ran away, and why the Quality no longer accept invitations

  to Tower MacNeil. Please, be seated, all of you, and I'll tell you of the secret

  Shame of the MacNeils, and how it has come back to haunt us. I think it's time

  for the truth."

  Everyone found themselves chairs, and drew them up in a semicircle facing the

  fireplace. Jamie stayed where he was, with his back to the fire, standing almost

  to attention, with his hands clasped behind his back, so the others wouldn't see

  them shaking. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even and very

  controlled.

  "Most people have heard something about the Curse of the MacNeils. That there is

  a monster which haunts us, and has done for generations. There have been many

  songs about it, and even one or two plays. Romantic fictions, all of them. We

  don't object; they help conceal the reality behind the myth. There is a Secret

  in our Family, handed down from father to eldest son alone, from generation to

  generation.

  "Long ago, in the days before proper records were kept, a child was born to the

  MacNeils, to the head of the Family at that time. That child was the eldest son,

  destined to continue the Family bloodline. Unfortunately, he was also horribly

  deformed. He should have been killed at birth, but the MacNeil was a kind and

  tender-hearted man. The creature was, after all, his son. Perhaps a cure could

  be found. The MacNeil all but bankrupted the Family trying to find it, paying

  for doctors and sorcerers and healers of all kinds, but no cure was ever found.

  "The creature became increasingly violent, and eventually had to be put away,

  for everyone's safety. The MacNeil took full responsibility for his awful son,

  and none of the Family or servants ever saw it again. Finally, some years later,

  the creature died, and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The normal second son

  became the eldest son, the bloodline continued through him, and everything

  returned to normal.

  "That is not the Secret. The songs and the romances and the plays are based

  loosely on what I have just told you, and from those distorted stories come the

  vague rumors that most people mean when they refer to the Curse of the MacNeils.

  The Secret, handed down from father to eldest son, is very simple. The creature

  did not die.

  "The MacNeil had finally despaired of his monstrous son, and decided it should

  die, to free the Family of its burden. He gave the creature poison to drink, and

  walled up its room. He and the second son did the job themselves, rather than

  risk bringing in workmen or servants who might have talked. And all the time

  they labored with bricks and mortar, they could hear the creature pacing

  restlessly back and forth in its cell. The poison did not kill it. Time and

  again the MacNeil and his son returned to listen at the wall they'd built, but

  though the creature had no access to food or water, still it lived. They could

  hear it moving about in its cell, and sometimes scratching at the walls.

  "Years passed. The MacNeil died, and later so did his son, but the creature

  lived on. No one ever knew of its existence save the head of the Family and the

  eldest son, the Secret passing from generation to generation to generation when

  the son reached his majority. And so it went, down all the many years.

  "Only this time, something went wrong. My father passed on the Secret to his

  eldest son, my brother William. But William died just three weeks ago, in a

  riding accident, and then my father was killed in a border clash, before he

  could pass on the details of the Secret to me. I was able to piece together what

  I've just told you from studying his papers after his death, but that's as far

  as his notes go. Presumably there are other papers somewhere, prepared in case

  of an emergency, but I've been unable to find them,. No doubt Dad would have got

  around to telling me where they were, just in case… but who would ever have

  thought he'd die so suddenly…"

  Jamie stopped abruptly as his voice broke. Holly rose quickly from her seat and

  moved forward to hug her brother's arm protectively.

  "Is that why the servants left?" said Hawk. "Because the Secret got out?"

  Jamie shook his head. "Not long after Dad died, the servants began seeing

  things. A dark figure, padding through the corridors late at night, or in the

  early hours of the morning. It always disappeared when challenged. I had the

  Tower searched from top to bottom by my security people, but they never found

  anyone. Then, things started to be broken. Vases, glasses, crockery. A chair was

  found smashed to pieces. Noises were heard at night; something that might have

  been screams, or laughter. My people began to leave, despite all I could offer

  them in the way of money or reassurances.

  "Even my security people wouldn't stay. They all thought it was the ghost of my

  father, come back to haunt the Tower. Only I knew better. After all these years,

  the creature had finally got out. Obviously some part of the Secret dealt with

  how to keep it confined, and since I didn't know what to do… So far, it hasn't

  been able to leave Tower MacNeil; the Tower's protective wards see to that."

  "Why haven't you called in the city Guard?" asked Fisher. "Maybe their experts

  could find the creature…"

  "No!" said Jamie sharply. "This is Family business, and it has to stay within

  the Family. If the Secret ever gets out, the whole world will know the MacNeil

  Family is based on a lie. That all of us are descended from a second son. The

  Quality would declare that we had betrayed our bloodline and inheritance, and

  the MacNeils would be disgraced. Already there are rumors. That's why so few

  Family have come to declare their fealty to me."

  "Apart from us, who else knows the Secret?" said Hawk.

  "Just Greaves, my immediate Family, and my other guests, so far."

  "This… creature," said Fisher slowly. "Has it tried to hurt anyone?"

  "Not so far," said Jamie. "But it is getting more destructive. Why? Do you want

  to leave?"

  Hawk smiled slightly. "I don't think so. Isobel and I don't scare easily."

  Katrina stirred in her chair.
"I can't believe Duncan kept the Secret so long. I

  had no idea… You're quite right, of course, Jamie. The Secret must never get

  out. We would be ostracized in High Society. Now then, the creature undoubtedly

  hides by day in the room that used to be its cell. Are you still unable to

  locate it?"

  "I'm afraid so." Jamie's brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. "The

  Tower is riddled with secret passages and sliding panels. I know some of them,

  and Dad's papers revealed a few more, but I still haven't been able to find

  where the creature is hiding. Presumably the room's location was part of the

  Secret."

  "This is crazy," said Fisher. "If this creature was walled up for centuries,

  what kept it alive? Everything feeds on something…"

  "I don't know," said Jamie. "But whatever the creature is, it's definitely not

  human. Maybe it hasn't died because it can't…"

  For a long moment, nobody said anything. The crackling of the fire seemed very

  loud in the quiet.

  "All this started because your father died unexpectedly," said Hawk finally.

  "Just how did he die?"

  Katrina looked at him sharply. "You don't know?"

  "Word often gets garbled when it has to travel long distances," said Fisher

  smoothly. "We want to make sure we've got it right."

  "I was just wondering," said Hawk carefully, "if perhaps there had been

  something unusual about your father's death… something that might give us a clue

  as to how the creature got out of its cell, after centuries of confinement. I

  mean, its room was supposed to have been bricked up. So, how did it finally get

  out?"

  "I see." Jamie nodded respectfully. "I hadn't thought of that. But no, there was

  nothing suspicious about my father's death. He was killed in a skirmish with

  Outremer troops up in the Northern borderlands. He shouldn't really have been

  there, an officer of his rank. But there had been rumors of new troop movements,

  and he wanted to see for himself. Dad was like that. Never really trusted

  anyone's opinion but his own. Anyway, he was in the wrong place at the wrong

  time, and he and his whole column were wiped out. Just another borderland

  skirmish. There's been a number of them just recently. Men are dying up there

  every day, just because our King and the Outremer Monarch can't agree on exactly

  where the bloody border is. Good men dying for a line on a map… I'm sorry. But

  it's hard not to be bitter sometimes. Dad was a good soldier. He deserved a

  better end than this. But I don't see how it could have had anything to do with

  the creature's escape."

  "Did anything unusual happen here at the Tower, before the servants started

  seeing and hearing things?" said Fisher…

  Jamie thought for a moment. "I don't think so. I remember we were a bit

  short-staffed for a while about then. A lot of the servants had been going down

  with colds, but you expect that at this time of the year. A day off, and they

  were back at work again."

  "There's really nothing to worry about," said Katrina firmly. "You'll be quite

  safe here, I assure you. There's no indication the creature's ever tried to hurt

  anyone. That is right, isn't it, Jamie?"

  "Yes, it is. But I felt it only fair you should all know what the situation is.

  You see, before the will can be read, the Tower has to be isolated behind

  protective wards for twenty-four hours. That's traditional."

  "You mean, once the wards are up, no one can leave the Tower for a full day?"

  said Hawk. "No matter what happens here?"

  He and Fisher exchanged a quick glance.

  "That's right," said Jamie. "But trust me, nothing's going to happen. If the

  creature had meant any harm, it would have acted by now. AH those years of

  imprisonment must have knocked the fight out of it."

  "I'm sure you're right," said Fisher. "But you couldn't have known that, at the

  beginning. In fact, it must have been pretty scary, especially when the servants

  started leaving, rather than face whatever it was. So why did you stay? Wouldn't

  it have been safer to evacuate the Tower?"

  "This is my home," said Jamie. "Home to my Family for generations. I won't be

  driven out of it."

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  "Well," said Katrina brightly, "if all else fails, we can always call on the

  Guardian!"

  "Who?" said Hawk.

  There was another, longer pause as the MacNeils looked at him strangely. Hawk

  silently cursed. He knew he should have insisted on a full briefing. Nothing was

  more likely to trip him and Fisher up than not recognizing some Family in-joke

  or reference, and this was clearly one of them. Still, the harm was done now.

  All he could do was try and face it down. He stared innocently back at Jamie and

  Katrina. and noticed for the first time that Holly wasn't paying any attention

  to the conversation. Instead, her eyes were far away, as though she were lost in

  some world of her own. Then Katrina started speaking, and Hawk quickly switched

  his attention back to her.

  "You must have heard of the MacNeil Guardian," said Katrina, speaking slowly and

  carefully, as though to a rather backward small child. "Perhaps you know him by

  a different name. The Guardian is one of our more pleasant and comforting Family

  legends. One of our more remote ancestors is supposed to haunt the Tower, duty

  bound to protect his descendants from harm. Apparently it's a penance for some

  bloody crime he later came to regret but was unable to put right while he lived.

  The legend doesn't say exactly what his crime might have been."

  "That's often the way with legends," said Hawk. "You're right, of course. I

  recognize it now. Has anyone seen this ghost in recent times?"

  "No one's seen him for centuries," said Jamie. "Though there have been any

  number of times when the Family could have used his help. So I'm afraid it is

  just a legend, after all."

  "I believe in him," said Holly suddenly. "I pray every night he'll come to save

  me. But he never does."

  Everyone looked at her strangely for a moment. For the first time, there had

  been real passion in her voice, and something that might have been despair.

  Jamie looked at her worriedly, but said nothing, and Holly quickly subsided into

  silence again. Katrina cleared her throat loudly.

  "That's supposed to be a portrait of the Guardian," she said brightly,

  indicating a dark and gloomy portrait directly over the fireplace. "Painted not

  long before his death. It's certainly old enough, so who knows?"

  They all looked at the portrait. The pigments had darkened gradually over the

  years, but the image was still clear. The portrait showed a grim, unsmiling

  middle-aged man, posed uncomfortably in a large upholstered chair. He was

  dressed in battered leather amour, and his face was lined and weathered. He

  looked as though he would have been more at home riding a horse into combat than

  sitting for an official Family portrait. There was an air of strength and

  wildness about him, and his great mane of white hair and sharp, beaked nose

  reminded Hawk uncannily of a bird of prey, trained to duty but never tamed. Hawk

  had no trouble at all seeing him as a man wh
o would do bloody crimes in the heat

  of passion.

  Everyone jumped slightly as the door behind them swung suddenly open and the

  butler Greaves entered. He stepped to one side, and formally announced the

  arrival of Marc and Alistair MacNeil. The two men entered together, though with

  enough space between them to suggest they were neither comfortable nor happy in

  each other's company. They both bowed briefly to Jamie MacNeil.

  Marc was tall and slender, with a broad, bland face and a cool, unhappy smile.

  He looked to be in his late twenties, if you ignored his prematurely thinning

  hair, and he wore the latest fashion poorly, as though indifferent to the effect

  it was supposed to achieve. He looked like the kind of man who attaches himself

  to groups at parties, in the hope someone will talk to him. His handshake was

  harsh and perfunctory, and his lips lingered almost obnoxiously over Fisher's

  hand. Jamie introduced him as another distant cousin, from Upper Markham.

  "That makes him almost a neighbor of yours," said Jamie, smiling happily at Hawk

  and Fisher. "I'm sure you'll have lots in common to talk about."

  "Oh good," said Hawk.

  Marc sniffed. "I rather doubt it. No one worth knowing ever came out of Lower

  Markham."

  There was an icy silence. Hawk's hand fell to his belt, before remembering he

  didn't have his axe anymore. Fisher quickly dropped a restraining hand on his

  arm. Marc smiled stiffly, almost as though daring Hawk to take offense at such

  an obvious truth.

  "That's enough!" said Jamie sharply. "There will be no duels in the Tower while

  I'm the MacNeil. Now apologize, Marc."

  "Of course," said Marc. "I'm sorry."

  His tone made the apology sound like another insult, Hawk's scowl deepened.

  Fisher tightened her grip on his arm. Hawk bowed stiffly, and turned his back on

  Marc to greet Alistair MacNeil. Marc sniffed again, and turned away to help

  himself to a drink from one of the wine decanters set out on the sideboard.

  Fisher breathed a silent sigh of relief, let go of Hawk's arm, and took a long

  drink from her glass.

  Alistair shook Hawk's hand firmly, and kissed Fisher's hand with old-fashioned

  style. He smiled at them both, an open, friendly smile that did much to dispel

  the cool atmosphere left by Marc's comments. "Good of you to make such a long