“Hmmm,” said Dr. Gavril. “It is clear that there is a great deal going on here. Do you still have some of the medicine I left for her while she was delirious?”
“Just a little,” Mrs. Blanchard replied.
“I think a dose of that and bed is what she needs. She was not yet over measles, she has been out in the cold for hours, and goodness knows when she ate last.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Blanchard said, and went to fetch the bottle and spoon from her locked medicine cupboard.
By the time she came back, Lillian merely felt numb. The wracking sobs were lessened, but the tears kept streaming down her face and there did not seem to be any stopping them.
Dr. Gavril poured a little of the medicine into a spoon. “Can you open your mouth for me, Miss Doyle?”
Obediently, she opened her mouth. The medicine tasted bitter and sweet all at the same time.
“Now a little tea to follow that up,” the physician tipped a cup against her lips and she drank.
The world began to swim, and then it went away. Someone lifted her and tucked her into her soft bed. For some hours, she knew no more.
Then she began to dream. The slow worms came again. They were huge this time. Each one wore her sister’s face. They grew out great long pincers and snipped at her. Flames billowed up around them.
As the flames in her dream leaped up they first burned the decorations that had been made for the castle, the chapel and the cottages, then it seemed as if Sebastian, Luke, Nicholas and the villagers were each consumed one by one.
Lillian awoke screaming.
Chapter 45
Dr. Gavril hurried back down the stairs. Now that the living woman was taken care of, he needed to see to the one who had fallen. “What a muddle,” he could be heard muttering as he hurried back outside. “What a terrible muddle.”
He found Sebastian kneeling beside the corpse but carefully not touching it. The physician knelt beside him, noting the way the woman had fallen, the angle of her neck, the way one side of her head was dented in.
Sebastian met Dr. Gavril’s gaze, as the chubby little doctor looked up from the corpse. “Is there somewhere we can take her for the night?” Sebastian asked. “The villagers will not stand for her to be in the chapel if she is a suicide.”
“My dispensary,” Dr. Gavril replied. “My assistant and I can clean her up a bit, and perhaps we can discover whether she jumped or she was pushed.”
“Do you think that it is possible?”
Dr. Gavril nodded. “Many a falling out among thieves results in their turning on one another. Perhaps when you have sorted out what should happen next we can discuss what is going on.”
“Gladly. Or I can send Parson Jamison to you, for he heard the woman’s confession, as did we all who were searching for Miss Doyle.”
“Of course that would be the time that Tommy Littlesmith chose to jump out of the haymow. We should really find a way to make hay storage less attractive to youngsters.”
“Is he well enough?” Sebastian asked. He wanted to be away, to see what was happening with the prisoners, but felt he should say something.
“Sprained ankle, bruised a bit. Narrowly missed the hayfork that someone left out. His mother was hysterical.”
“Glad to hear that it was no worse than that. Do what you must for the remains, and I will speak with you later.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Sebastian glanced back toward the crowd, where Parson Jamison had calmed the people, and led them in prayer.
Tim Rowe stood at the back of the crowd, head bowed and hat in hand. Sebastian said softly to him, “Give a word to the parson. Tell him I will say something to the people as soon as I know more about what is going on.”
“I will. Well thought on, Your Grace.”
Sebastian then hurried inside, nearly running toward the stairs to the wine cellars. How fortunate that they had been able to move most of the people out of the dining hall and into rooms that day!
As Sebastian approached the end of the Great Hall, however, Evans came toward him, nearly running. “The roof, Your Grace! Go quickly! I’ll alert the blacksmith and cooper that the militia are needed.”
Sebastian did a double-take, changed his direction, hurrying toward the roof.
When he came near the exit from the stair well to the upper battlements, he could hear the clatter of small arms, and men shouting. Cautiously, he peered out the door. Chaos reigned upon the wide battlements. It was difficult to tell who was battling whom, but it was plain that the two Michaels brothers were on opposite sides. One of them had a plain, double-edged sword of the type issued to junior officers in the military, while the other was wielding what seemed to be a butcher’s knife.
Some of the uniformed men who had ridden up to the camp on the mountain were fighting with other uniformed men. The village constable, who had gathered up a small contingent of men, was systematically picking off the out-liers of each group and a disciplined knot of footmen were heaving the resultant trussed men into a pile behind them.
As Sebastian started to step out onto the roof, the smith and cooper came up behind him.
“Allow us, Your Grace,” the cooper said. “You are not armed.”
Belatedly, Sebastian realized that was true. He stepped back out of the way as more villagers, armed with whatever they could lay hand to, poured out onto the broad battlement. Everything then became very crowded and confused, but in a few minutes it was over and the smith held onto one of the Michaels brothers, while the cooper held the other.
“Now,” said Sebastian, “This is not a good way to start up the New Year. Nor do I wish to hold back the villagers from celebrating Twelfth Night. I scarcely think we need to select a Lord of Misrule, for it seems that he has been quite busy. I don’t suppose any of you would like to make it easy on yourselves for explaining how the woman came to fall over the battlements?”
The Inspector Michaels spoke up. “Sarah pushed her, Your Grace. It seems that Lady Tabitha was not the only one consumed by jealousy and anger.”
“Hmmm,” Sebastian said. “And just exactly how was it that they were able to make their way up here? The wine cellar with its holding cells is in quite the other direction.”
Captain Edwards of the castle guard approached. “I am sorry, Your Grace. The one that has been questioning everyone said that the other one was creating a ruse to get inside the castle. I stopped the group to ask particulars of them. While I was asking questions, the women started fighting with each other. No one wanted to hurt them, so they were able to get loose and flee up the stairs. In the confusion, the men bolted as well.”
“And I suppose all else ensued from there.”
Captain Edwards nodded, looking ashamed of himself.
The blacksmith and the cooper came up the stairs then, followed by the village militia. “Lock them up,” Sebastian said tiredly. “Lock them all up.”
“Including the castle guards, Your grace?”
“Yes,” Sebastian said. “Especially the castle guards. Forget the wine cellar. Take them to the old dungeons and use the shackles. We have had quite enough for tonight. I’ll sort it all out in the morning.”
The blacksmith nodded. With little further ado, the villagers collected the combatants and took them away. Sebastian slowly stumped back down the stairs. Evans met him at the bottom.
“What a night,” Sebastian said to the old butler. “I must be doing something wrong. I don’t recall any such doings in my father’s day.”
“Changing times, Your Grace. There have been troubles in the city, what with steam and water powered machines to spin thread and make cloth. Angry workers break the machinery and the like because they believe it is taking away from their ability to earn a living.”
“But we have no such things here.”
“That is true, Your Grace. And a sorry world it is when a man lashes out in fear that he will not be able to earn enough to buy his bread on the morrow or put a decent roof over his childre
n’s heads.”
“True enough, Evans. But is that what has happened here? Or is it something else? Is Miss Doyle safe?”
“Aye, Your Grace. Mrs. Blanchard and Martha Louisa took her up to the schoolroom. Mr. Stableman and Mr. Gardener are standing at watch in front of the schoolroom door. With all that was going on, they did not wish to leave it unattended.”
“Quite rightly, Evans. Will you see to it that the blacksmith and the cooper have no trouble as they put the brawlers below? I’ll sit in judgment on them in the morning and sort the miscreants from the righteous.”
Evans eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That is somewhat outside my usual duties, Your Grace.”
“I know. But you are one of the few people that I can trust. This has all turned into a tangle of enormous proportions.”
“Then I will see to it, Your Grace. But I am sure that our able village militia has taken care of it.”
“Thank you, Evans. I’ll go now and have a word with the villagers who are by the bonfire. They deserve to have their holiday treat, even though the occasion has been sadly dimmed.”
As Sebastian went back out into the courtyard, he could see that the villagers all had their heads bowed in prayer. He joined the edge of the front row, bowed his head and waited for the “amen,” before he approached the parson.
“I am here,” he said simply.
Without a word of protest, Parson Jamison gave over the lectern to Sebastian.
“Good folk of Parkforton,” Sebastian began.
The Widow Avery spoke up, “We are here for you, Your Grace.” The villagers all cheered in affirmation.
“Thank you, thank you all. This should have been a celebration of the beginning of a new year that is infused with hope. Instead, it has become a tragedy.”
The innkeeper stepped forward. “My sons are in the village militia. Is all well inside the castle?”
“The village militia is locking all the combatants into the dungeons. I will sit in judgment on them, along with the village elders, in the morning when we have had a chance to sleep and our heads are clearer.”
“You sure that’s safe, Your Grace? Them Dungeons be old!” A cracked voice called out, and a wizened oldster stood up, and fold his arms.
“It would not have been my first choice as a place to put anyone, grandfather. But it is the only place I have that is large enough to contain them all. As for security, the blacksmith is welding shackles on them. They should be well confined until morning.”
“Good enough, Your Grace, good enough,” and the old fellow sat back down.
“Meanwhile, friends and neighbors, the kitchen had already prepared a banquet before all these things happened. It will only go to waste if it is not eaten, and there are those among you who have been assigned fire watch until morning, and others who are runners to bring the fresh coals to the new fires. Please, enjoy the feast that has been spread for you and continue that which is needful to bring light, warmth, and hope for a better future back to Parkforton.”
Chapter 46
Martha Louisa came hurrying into the room. “Miss Doyle! What is the trouble?”
“I dreamed, I dreamed, that my sister had turned into a slow worm. She was trying to burn everything, especially the duke and his brothers, as well as all the villagers. I awoke and now everything smells of smoke.”
“That is likely to be the bonfire out in the courtyard, Miss. Parkforton is made of stone, and highly unlikely to burn.”
“Castles have burned before,” Lillian protested. “There is wood and furnishings . . .”
“I will go check, Miss, but I am sure it was just your dream self picking up on the bonfire after all the horrid things that have happened.”
Martha Louisa turned, and went to the door. She was met by a white-faced Mr. Gardener. “We must get you out of the castle,” he said. “Mr. Stableman has already taken the boys out, and Mr. Evans is evacuating everyone else.”
When Martha Louisa came back into the room, she found that Lillian was already pulling on a warm wrapper. Martha Louisa added Lillian’s warm cloak on top of that. They stopped briefly at the maid’s room for Martha Louisa to collect her warm cloak, then they followed Mr. Stableman downstairs, through the dining hall and out into the cold. The bonfire had burned down low, but now the fire wardens were building it up again as families poured out of the castle and invalids on stretchers were brought through the snow. The long tables where the feast had been spread were beginning to be covered with thick, white flakes.
As everyone began to cluster about the remains of the bonfire. “Sebastian!” Lillian cried out. Where is he?”
“He has gone in to see what has caused the blaze and all the smoke,” Mr. Gardener said. “Can you see to the boys, Miss Doyle? I’ll go look for the Duke.”
“Of course,” she said.
“We’ll see to her,” Luke said.
“Yes, we will,” Nick added. “Please, find our brother.”
Luke took her right hand, and Nick took her left. They all three stared after Mr. Gardener, trying to see through the haze of smoke. People moved around them. At first, Lillian didn’t understand what they were doing. Then she saw that some were putting snow in a large pot on the low-burning bonfire, which by now was down to the ends of firewood from where people had cleaned out their fireplaces.
As the snow melted, people were dipping milk pails, chamber pots, water pitchers, almost anything that would hold water into the pot and passing it along up the line of people that was forming between the bonfire and the inside of the castle.
“Snowballs,” she told the boys, “We can make snowballs and pile them up where they can be gotten to quickly.”
As soon as they began doing that, some of the people stopped waiting for the snow to melt in the pot, and simple dropped several snowballs in their containers.
After several minutes of this, Sebastian came out, leading a string of people that were shackled together. Several of them were coughing, their clothes were covered with soot, but no one seemed to be badly burned.
The smith and the cooper brought up the rear, but the water brigade continued for some time. At last, Evans came out, looking far less immaculate than he usually did. “It’s out,” he said. “But the castle will need to be aired before anyone can sleep there. It is fortunate that most of the villagers moved back to their houses before they gathered for the bonfire. We will need to parcel out the folk who were still here into the houses that are warm and safe, and into the chapel”
Luke and Nick collected Lillian before she could think about pulling back, and tugged her toward Sebastian. “What happened?” Nick called out.
Parson Jamison, whose nightshirt and overcoat were streaked with soot and mud stumped over wearily from where he had been helping keep fire under the water pot. “That is what we all want to know, Nick.”
Evans sighed. “It is a complicated tale, but the short version is that one of the prisoners had a flint in his pocket and the blacksmith used iron to make the shackles. When everyone had gone back upstairs, the fool thought to make a light or some heat or something and set the straw in the cells on fire.”
Sebastian came over just in time to hear Evans explanation. “It was a remarkably effective way to get out of the cells. They simply had not counted on Tink Littlesmith’s ingenuity. He made the shackles they could be fastened together, so they are no freer than they were while in the cells, and now they are a great deal more uncomfortable.”
Evans usually solemn butler face creased into a grin, an expression Lillian had never seen him wear, even when the twins cracked the most outrageous jokes. “Somehow, that seems like justice in action.”
Sebastian barked a short laugh. “No doubt, but now the entire castle is filled with smoke.”
“Your Grace,” Parson Jamison said, “I have a spare bedroom and a store room that could be pressed into service as temporary lodgings.”
“And I,” said the innkeeper, “Have some rooms that have jus
t been vacated.”
“I’d rather keep the miscreants belongings where they are, if I might, good innkeeper,” Sebastian said. “But Parson Jamison, if you and your wife could see your way to sheltering Lillian and my brothers, I would be in your debt.”
“Gladly, Your Grace, and with no debt incurred. I would be glad to do it.”
“But Sebastian,” Lillian started to say.
“I will not hear it, Lillian. I can see that you and both boys have been helping with the snow. You are wet and soon you will be very cold. Please, go with the parson. Get warm, try to get some sleep, and I will come see you after I have dealt with this lot.”
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