by Shamus Young
The headmaster’s voice taunted her from the darkness. “Has your fire gone out, little bird?” He was wheezing as he spoke. Alice heard his faltering footsteps drawing close. With one hand she pushed against the damp earth and rolled over onto her back. Her eyes burned and flowed with tears. She longed for sleep, to close her eyes and breathe deep. It was beyond her strength to even draw enough breath to cough the smoke from her lungs.
A few steps away, the headmaster was swaying about, cursing and clutching his belly with one hand. He steadied himself and pointed at her with the knife. “Let’s open you up and see what we find,” he laughed as he took a step towards her. Through her tears she saw him looming closer, his hat still smoldering. His knife glinted in the firelight. She lifted her arm uselessly. She felt like she was moving through sand. The world seemed dim and remote to her eyes. Sounds were muffled as if her head were immersed in water.
Her eyes cleared and she drew a sudden breath. The sounds of the flame around her snapped to sudden clarity. Reaching out with both hands, she summoned a roaring pillar of flame. It didn’t strike the headmaster so much as pass through him. The orchard was bathed in light, as if it was daytime. When she stopped the flow, the headmaster was gone. All that remained was a pile of smoking refuse and ashes.
Alice stood. Aside from the slash on her forearm, she was unhurt. But where had the sudden potency come from? Even now, she didn’t feel drained from the effort. She rubbed her face and drew another deep breath. Where had she found so much strength?
Then she realized what must have happened. “Simon, you fool!” she cried to herself, and hurried off to find him.
Alice discovered him in the barn. He was curled up in an empty spot on the floor, shivering. He was in the middle of a chalk circle, drawn in his own hand. It was a feeding circle, inscribed with Alice’s name.
“You fool!” she said again once she’d reached him. “What have you done?”
Simon’s eyes turned slowly to her, “Alice! You won!”
VIII
“Stop!” Soot pleaded at the sight of Gilbert with a ready axe. “I was only following the Master’s orders.”
“That’s why I’m killing you,” Gilbert nodded.
Soot continued to back away, heading for the front door, which was still open. It looked like he was trying to hedge his bets. He might dart inside, or he might flee into the night.
“See here,” Soot sputtered. “I’ve done you no harm yet.”
“Should we ask inside and see if any harm has been done?”
Finally Soot was backed into the door, and he had to choose which way he would go. He glanced sideways into the house, perhaps hoping to see the headmaster. He didn’t, but he spied the lantern hanging by the door.
“It’s not right killing an unarmed man like this,” Soot protested.
Gilbert could see where this was headed. Soot was a devious man if he got behind you, but he was neither quick-witted nor subtle. Gilbert obligingly tossed the axe away. Soot then grabbed the lantern and flung it at Gilbert.
With little trouble and even less surprise, Gilbert soft-handed the catch, then swung the lantern and smashed it over Soot’s head. Soot was showered with burning oil and became a pillar of screaming flame. He began running around in a panic. Worried that the flames might endanger the house, Gilbert grabbed Soot by the belt and gave him a shove in the direction of the road.
Gilbert shook his head as he watched the man run around the yard and collapse. Soot screamed and writhed for a bit, and then stopped moving. Slowly the fire burned itself out.
Mother’s voice drifted out of the house, “Gilbert sweetie! Are you all right?”
Gilbert spun around to see his mother standing just inside the door.
“I was so worried about you. Where have you been hiding?” she said as she lifted up a small child. “Don’t worry, Grandma has you,” she said as she bounced him gently. Then she shut the door, leaving Gilbert in darkness.
The Hiltman homestead was enshrouded in the billowing white fog of the early morning. Alice crept out the back door. She passed the outhouse, the barn, and hopped over the wooden fence to enter the singed orchard.
The dampness and the lack of leaves had saved the orchard from burning down entirely, but the fire had claimed a few of the trees before it burned itself out. Their black trunks stood silent in the fog.
“Gilbert?” she called softly. “Gilbert! Are you here?”
One of the black shapes stirred and walked towards her, “I am.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would be back so soon. You saw to the bodies?”
“I’d thought to bury them beyond the line of trees,” he said, pointing off into the whiteness. “But there’s another house over there now. I had to drag them north a bit.”
“Still, you hauled away all three and buried them in a very short time.”
“Their graves are not deep. And there was very little of the headmaster left to bury, deep or not. They deserved far worse than they got. After what the headmaster did to Simon, and all the other boys, and the men who went down with Callisto, and the terror they inflicted on my family, not to mention my death and all the crimes that are unknown to us...” he let out a heavy sigh, “It seems an injustice for them to be buried at all. I’d have let them rot where they fell, but I didn’t want them stinking up our property. Also, I recovered these.” Gilbert handed her a shoe, one of the small number of items belonging to the headmaster that had survived her inferno.
Alice took the shoe with obvious distaste. It was covered in ash. Inside were a large number of coins.
“From the headmaster,” he explained. “His purse was burned, but the coins survived. I imagine this is the money he stole from our room before Callisto sank.”
“That and more. I suppose this is our money, added to his.” Alice dropped the coins into one of her many hidden pockets, “At least we’ll have funds to return home, although I would have liked to have recovered my coin-purse as well. It was a gift from Lord Moxley, and quite valuable. I guess those villains simply threw it away.”
“I imagine so. But I’m done thinking about those wretches. Tell me how Mother is doing. What did you tell her of our business?”
“I told her as little as I could, although she is a smart woman and she knows I’ve left things unsaid. I told her we were working for the Witch Watch, and that we were chasing these malefactors. Your mother saw your face - or lack of one - when you stormed into the house. I told her that you were a monster drawn here by their evil magic.”
“Which is true, in a way,” Gilbert observed.
“The danger isn’t that she would see that you were an abomination - which is plain enough already - but that she would discover we were traveling together. Circumstances corroborated my story. We arrived shortly after you, instead of beside you. There were two horses outside, and not three.”
“Which reminds me, we need to return the horses to Mr. Van der Byl this morning,” Gilbert said.
“Your mother knew my story was off. She asked several times what the monster was, why it had attacked the headmaster’s men and not the household, and where it had gone when the fight was over. I was evasive as possible without being rude. I’m not sure what she thinks now, but she let the matter drop.”
“I’m just glad she wasn’t hurt.”
“Hurt? You would scarcely know she had been attacked at all. Brave woman. Resilient. Your sister is not nearly as sturdy, and is still shaken.”
“I’m disappointed in Ruby, then. I’d always thought she was tough under her feminine appearance. A bit like you, I suppose. No, the opposite of you. You’re feminine under your tough appearance.”
“Don’t be too hard on your sister. The headmaster set out to terrorize them, and he was good at his job. Through her sobs I managed to sort out what his plan had been. He was going to put your mother into a feeding circle, and use her to feed his magic. Then he planned to roast her family in front of her. Including your namesake
, your nephew Gilbert. Speaking of which - I didn’t know you were Uncle Gilbert!”
“The boy wasn’t born until after I died. I didn’t realize I was an uncle until last night. Is he unharmed?”
“Not a scratch. He was quite cheerful once the commotion had passed. And although you didn’t bother to ask about him, his father will recover from his wounds.”
Gilbert shrugged.
“How awful!” Alice said angrily, “Walter is your brother-in-law. You should at least care for him for the sake of your sister. And nephew.”
“I never liked the man,” Gilbert admitted. “Always stood with his head bowed. Shy. Scrawny. That thin little mustache of his. I don’t know. I always took him for a coward.”
“Well then you will be happy to know that he fought hard, even in the face of hopeless odds. He surely would have died if the headmaster hadn’t wanted to save him for roasting. They had to hurt him many times before he stopped getting back up. He didn’t cower, not even in the face of that beastly Scotsman.”
Gilbert was quiet for a while. “I guess I was wrong about him. I took him for a man who would have fled the house and left his family to the evil men. I’m glad he had the courage when the time came, even if he didn’t have the strength. That’s what really matters. I wish I was alive so I could go and apologize to him.”
Gilbert sat down underneath one of the trees that had been spared the fire. Alice stood nearby, looking up at the sky through the naked branches. She reached up and pulled gently on a limb, as if she was of a mind to climb it. She tilted to one side, swinging from the tree like a schoolchild. They remained like this in silence while the yellow light of the morning sun pierced the clouds and began to burn away the mist.
At last she spoke, “I know it must be hard for you, coming home like this. How are you?”
“Dead,” he grunted.
Alice hurried over and kicked him.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“You needn’t bother saying ‘ouch’. That kick would barely hurt a living man, and I doubt it hurt you at all. You needed it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I realize being dead is unfortunate, but sooner or later you need to accept it. Or at least stop moping about it.”
Gilbert grunted a reluctant acknowledgment that she had a point. Then he asked, “Where is Simon?”
“Still sleeping. Your mother practically forced food down our throats once she was free of her bonds. It was all we could do to persuade them to let us sleep on the floor and not in the family beds. We’ve been running weary for a long time, and the feeding circle robbed what strength he had left. I imagine he won’t be awake anytime soon.”
Gilbert nodded and went back to staring into the vanishing mist. The morning slowly brightened, and as the veil rolled away they could see more and more of the surrounding countryside. Finally he spoke, “You were right. It is hard, being home like this. I grew up here. I used to climb these trees. There’s a little brook just west of us. I used to pretend it was the Delaware River, and I was General Washington, crossing it on Christmas to fight the filthy English.” Gilbert laughed at her disapproving frown, “Then I turned fifteen and Father returned to England, and I became the English.”
“Your father was an Englishman who lived in America?”
“Not just an Englishman. A British soldier. He served in Her Majesty’s army.”
“In New York?” Alice asked slowly, as if he was being very stupid.
“The laws regarding magic are much more lax here. Or at least, much less strictly enforced. The church has almost no power to act directly against witches. Her Majesty sent one of her advisers to New York on some lengthy errand or other. Something to do with trans-Atlantic trade. Very private and serious. So serious that she was worried about mind-control and divination being used on her representative.”
Alice smiled, “Because clearly New York is brimming with malefactors.”
“Clearly,” Gilbert agreed. “But the English are notoriously sensitive about magic.”
“Not without reason!” Alice said defensively. “We seem to attract more than our share of magical disasters.”
“Granted. But the Queen insisted that some men from her own army be allowed to protect His Lordship the trade advisor, whatever his name was. My father was sent here as part of the retinue of men to protect the Lord. So they were a contingent of British soldiers, living in New York, protecting a British Lord from unseen magical threats that never materialized. While stationed here, my father met my mother. They married, and settled here. Had me. Had my sister. Then the business was concluded and Father was called home. And that’s how I came to live in Rothersby. The next thing I knew, I was serving in the army I’d pretended to defeat over and over again as a boy.”
“I gather you liked your time in Her Majesty’s service?” Alice asked.
“I did. Best time of my life.”
“So why did you leave?”
Gilbert stood and looked east. The sun had broken through. He pulled back his hood and let the sun fall on his face. “Another time. I don’t want to tell that story now. It’s sad. This is the first time the sunlight has touched me since I was awakened. It almost feels warm.”
“It’s not, I promise,” Alice said. Her cheeks were red from the damp, chilly air.
“I feel cold all the time. It doesn’t matter what the temperature is around me. I feel it when I stand by a fire. I feel it in the rain. I felt it when I was walking on the bottom of the ocean. That sore, aching chill you get when you’ve been outside too long and your joints feel bruised. But now, standing in the sun, I almost feel warm again.”
“You’re not feeling sorry for yourself again, are you?”
“I’m just relating the experiences of the dead, purely for academic purposes,” he said slyly.
“Then I will withhold the kick I was about to give you.”
Gilbert took up a shovel that had been leaning against a nearby tree and rested it over his shoulder. “Speaking of death, I should return Mother’s shovel to the barn before it’s missed.”
Instead of answering, Alice looked at the shovel thoughtfully.
“Is something wrong?” Gilbert asked.
“I’m now remembering our last visit to Ravenstead. I found a mass grave near the place where you were revived.”
“Recently filled?” Gilbert asked.
“No, recently dug. The hole was empty, as far as I could tell. At the time I thought it was curious that our foe had a hole ready for us before we even arrived. Since then I haven’t really given it further thought.”
“I can see you’re doing that now. So what do you think? How did he know to dig a hole before we arrived? Was there a traitor in our midst?”
“No. In fact, I don’t think the grave had anything to do with us at all. I think this was not a newly dug grave, but an old one that was recently uncovered. Consider: The church buried you in His Lordship’s tomb. But where did they bury his men? You said that many men died defending Mordaunt. The church wouldn’t have wanted to haul those bodies away. It would be quite unlike them to attempt to identify the men and notify their families. No, they would have wanted to be rid of the bodies as quickly as possible. I can think of nothing more convenient than digging a pit near the graveyard and throwing the men into it.”
“And if they mistook His Lordship for one of his own servants...” Gilbert said with sudden understanding.
“Then Lord Mordaunt was buried in that mass grave,” Alice agreed.
“And he has been recently unearthed,” Gilbert added.
“Probably in anticipation of recovering your vigor.”
“Sophie’s vigor,” Gilbert corrected her.
“A shame we didn’t have more time to explore the manor. If we had found his body we might have taken his head and dashed his hopes forever,” she muttered.
“In any case, His Lordship is above ground now. I wonder if they’re looking for other means to revive him,” Gilbert muttered.
“I have no doubt of it,” Alice replied.
In all, they spent three days with Gilbert’s family. Alice and Simon stayed in the house, and Gilbert lurked on the edges of the property, walking the woods and remembering. On the second day, Alice and Simon came out to meet him, and he took them for a walk.
“Where are we going?” asked Simon after they had walked some distance to the east.
“Up this hill,” Gilbert replied flatly.
Simon was silent, but Alice responded with irritation, “Obviously we’re going uphill. I’m sure Simon was wondering if you had a destination in mind, or were just of a mind to wear our legs off.”
“Our destination is the top. There’s a clearing.”
It was late afternoon, and the sun was shining. The late October air was chill, but the sun provided the illusion of warmth. Gilbert had thrown back his hood and let the light fall on his rotting face.
“We shouldn’t go too far,” Alice cautioned. “If we linger until after sundown, Victoria will worry.”
Gilbert stopped and turned back, “Has she mentioned me?”
“She has not spoken your name, yet you seem to occupy her thoughts a great deal,” Alice replied.
Simon explained, “Mrs. Hiltman discovered that Alice wasn’t married, or even being courted. She started to speak excitedly, saying that she should introduce Alice to someone. But then she stopped herself and dropped the subject.”
“It happens often,” Alice added. “She is continuously avoiding talking about you. I suppose we are as well.”
“Does she know for certain that I’m dead? Or does she think of me as merely ‘missing’?” Gilbert wondered.
“It’s impossible to say,” Alice sighed. “We would have to ask her directly. Which would be foolish, I think.”
Gilbert nodded and they resumed their march. At last they came to the crown of the hill and found themselves looking east over the vast expanse of barren trees. Amongst the grey branches were a small number of trees which were slow to release their leafy covering. To the southeast were the taller hills of Richmond County. These largely blocked their view of the Atlantic. The water of Arthur Kill crept along below them. To the northeast, across the Hudson, were the green pastures of Manhattan, which were dotted with clusters of buildings.