The Voice Within

by Roger Penfound

  "Doug, let's stop. You've had enough. This is stupid."

  "I'm OK. I have to go through with this. Just stay with me."

  His eyes seemed focused on Kate's window and Julia could feel his pulse race.

  John and Kate reached the bottom of the ladder and made their way silently towards the horse. From inside the house there were sounds of rage and destruction. John placed Kate's few possessions in the saddle bag then helped her onto Black Thunder. He untethered the horse and prepared to mount. Above them, the moon broke through the cloud casting a milky luminance over the courtyard.

  A door flew open. Arthur Penhallam stood there, his sword clenched in his outstretched hand.

  "What are you doing here, Trebarfoot? No Roundhead rebels allowed on my land. This is a Royalist and Catholic household. And my daughter belongs to me. Get her off that horse or I'll put my sword through your Protestant gut."

  "But, sir, you gave me your word that Kate and I would be married. You remember, I spared your life at Sourton Down when you grovelled in the mud before me. You made a solemn promise and I will hold you to your word."

  Arthur roared with laughter.

  "You behaved like the weak and foolish person you are. You had instructions to take no hostages. That's what you should have done – followed orders. And if you had killed me, you could have taken Kate. What idiots you Trebarfoots are."

  "Sir, I took you at your word and as a gentleman."

  "You're a traitor to the King and a rebel. You and your kind are scum."

  Arthur Penhallam strode towards John, his sword raised high. John wrenched his own sword from its scabbard and held it defensively across his chest.

  "I don't want to kill you but if that is the only way I can free Kate from the tyranny of your sick and depraved mind, then I will have no hesitation."

  With a blood-curdling cry, Arthur lunged forward. John parried the blow and stepped back.

  "Sir, I will give you one last chance to end this."

  Lunging forward, Arthur brought the sword down from directly above John's head. John swerved – just missing the blade as it crashed into the stone, sending sparks like firecrackers into the night. Kate screamed and slithered down from the horse. John regained his composure and lifted his sword high in confrontation. Their swords clashed and parried. Both men slipped on the mossy stone. John stumbled and fell onto one knee.

  Doug strained like a soul possessed – desperately trying to free himself from Julia and Freddie's grip.

  His eyes were ablaze.

  He broke free and ran into the courtyard, calling out into the empty night, driven forward by something visible only to him.

  Arthur seized his chance as John tried to regain his footing.

  He pulls a dagger from the waistband of his breeches.

  A sudden movement distracts him. A distant call.

  He hesitates. The dagger poised above John's crouching body.

  The sound of a missile in flight.

  A bolt striking deep into Arthur's chest.

  The dagger slicing through John's tunic and pinning him to the ground.

  Arthur staggers – his hands reaching for the wound.

  He collapses – life draining from his body.

  Kate rushes to John and throws her arms around him.

  Then she looks up at the shadowy figure standing yards away – a crossbow gripped in his hands.

  Chapter 24: Penhallam, May 18th

  Robert stood at the entrance to the manor, blood still seeping from the gaping wound in his head. The crossbow hung limply by his side.

  Behind him another figure – familiar yet strange. Close yet distant.

  Kate stared in confusion.

  A brief meeting of their eyes. Joined by blood yet separated by time. Then he is gone – faded into the mist which invades the courtyard. An illusion. A trick of the mind. A memory from the future.

  Robert staggered and collapsed.

  "Brother! You saved our lives," screamed Kate as she fell to her knees beside him.

  "But I've killed our father."

  Kate looked in disbelief at the bolt which protruded from the chest of the man who had abused and betrayed her.

  "What gave you the courage to do this? You have always lived in fear of him."

  "A strength I can't explain. A voice within me."

  "Did you see anyone?"

  "I felt a presence inside of me. For the briefest of moments I understood – but then it was gone. Like a dream I can't recall."

  "Your father was an evil man," cried John, dropping to his knees and embracing Robert's limp body.

  "You were under his control – just as Kate was. But now you are free."

  "What son can live with the knowledge that he killed his father?" gasped Robert, clasping his hand to the wound. "When his Royalist cronies find out I'll be strung from the nearest oak."

  "Then we must leave – all of us. Take our chance and go," cried Kate.

  "No. It's not Robert who must go – it's you and me, Kate," argued John. "It was our plan to flee anyway."

  "People will soon learn the truth," groaned Robert, struggling to lift himself from the ground.

  "Not if we distort it a little. The truth must be made to fit our purpose."

  Julia and Freddie helped Doug back into the kitchen where he slumped into a chair – his body still shaking. Julia poured a generous measure of whiskey and held it to his lips. At first, he choked, but gradually his tension subsided and he was able to talk.

  "What happened to me?"

  "You became very agitated. I was frightened. You were shouting at something in the courtyard."

  Doug struggled to get up – tension building again in his body. Suddenly, he saw the slight figure of Freddie standing in the shadow.

  "I know you," he stammered. "You're the reporter. Why are you here?"

  "I'm Frederick Trebarfoot," he announced softly. "Most people call me Freddie."

  "Last time we met, you wouldn't speak to us."

  "I had nothing to say then. But now I do."

  They sat at the kitchen table and Julia produced mugs of coffee.

  "I was born in Poundham, just down the road. When I was younger I knew this place. I was friends with the owner's granddaughter. She stayed here one summer – '67 I think it was. That's when it first started."

  "What started?"

  "Voices. I began to hear voices. Couldn't make out what they were at first. Like echoes floating through the house – jumbled and meaningless. Nobody else seemed to hear them. There was a party one night and I stayed over. They put me in the room which I later found out that had been Kate's."

  "What happened?"

  "I had a great sense of someone being present in that room. A woman. I could feel her pain – sense her distress. Afterwards, I researched the family and discovered more about Kate. She lived in fear of her father – Arthur Penhallam. He was a violent man and also a coward. He abused his daughter because he knew he was despised by his neighbours. The family's fortune was in decline. They were selling land to survive. Abusing Kate was Arthur's way of demonstrating he still had power.

  "Your name?" asked Julia. "You're descended from the Trebarfoot family? John Trebarfoot's your ancestor?"

  "I believe he is – yes. My research has proved the link."

  "What brought you back here two years ago?" asked Julia.

  Freddie looked ill at ease. He paused and drew a breath.

  "My wife was ill. She had dementia. I was losing her. Then the voices started again. I hadn't heard them for many years. First the echoes, unintelligible but haunting. Then Kate – whispering, wanting to tell me something. That's why I came to Penhallam two years ago. I knew her presence would be stronger here. I needed to find out what she wanted. When you let me stay in her room I felt her presence again as if she was by my side. But this time there was another manifestation in that room – overpowering and evil. It wanted to destroy me."

  "I found you with your hands ro
und your throat," Julia reminded him.

  "They said I'd had a stroke. I ended up in hospital."

  "But I think you came back again, Freddie," said Doug quietly. "I think you came back on the anniversary of the fight. Why?"

  Freddie looked shocked.

  "How did you find out?"

  "I guessed. I discovered that the real anniversary date is May 17th. Most people believe it's the 27th. But you knew the truth."

  Freddie paused, his eyes staring into a distant place.

  "I spent a week in hospital. When I went home it was very difficult to cope. My wife didn't recognise me. But the voices continued. Kate was always with me. In some strange way I was losing my wife but gaining Kate. She wanted me to return – to see something. I knew about the re-enactment. Journalists and ghost hunters had waited over the years in the courtyard to witness it – but, of course, nothing happened. Then I found out why. I read an old newspaper article that gave the true date as May 17th."

  "So you came back secretly?" said Julia.

  "I'm sorry, but I felt sure you would refuse if I asked. I climbed over the wall and waited."

  "What happened?" asked Doug.

  "At first nothing.

  Then voices – sounds – hooves on cobbles.

  A woman's scream. A man shouting.

  Then his presence bearing down upon me. It was his revenge. He wanted to take the life of a Trebarfoot. I felt pain like a dagger piercing my chest."

  Freddie stared, immobile, at some unseen place, his face fraught with anxiety. Finally, he spoke again.

  "When I came to it was dawn. I had collapsed. I felt ill but I managed to get up and leave. But I was in the grip of that force. I couldn't shake it off. The next morning I awoke from a terrible nightmare to find my wife dead beside me. They said I killed her – strangled her."

  The silence in the room was intense. Julia leaned forward to put a hand on Freddie's arm.

  "They put me in a secure unit. The voices continued. They became a part of my life. I seemed to be trapped between two worlds – so I stopped talking. I could never be sure which world I inhabited."

  "What brought you back here tonight?" asked Doug.

  "And how did you get out?" demanded Julia, edging forward across the table.

  "Getting out was no problem," Freddie replied with a wry smile. "The security is very lax. Most of the old folk in there have dementia."

  His face turned anxious again.

  "Meeting you at St. Anne's was a terrible shock. It made me realise that I wasn't alone. You had experienced the same as me in that room. You felt Kate's presence too. She exists not only in my head. In that sense she's real. Therefore, I believe the voices may be telling us something. When I said to you 'the future lies in the past', I knew that the recurrence of the voices was for a reason. When you told me about your son and his Muslim girlfriend, I guessed immediately that the two episodes were linked. I came here tonight because I believed that your presence might change the outcome. I believe that you were destined to come here."

  The priest made his way along the path by the side of Penhallam – tripping over roots and fallen branches. The smell of last night's whiskey still clung to his clothes. He swore under his breath at the inconvenience of being called out so early in the morning. He despised his brother living in the big house. But he was in his pay. The head of the Penhallam family had traditionally appointed the priest with the tacit approval of the Bishop.

  He turned into the drive, noticing the unkempt state of the grounds which had in recent years been severely neglected. As he approached the front door, Robert appeared from the house. The extravagant costume of the previous night had gone to be replaced by a simple tunic gathered at the waist by a cord. A large bandage was wrapped round his forehead.

  "I have tragic news, Uncle. Father was slain last night."

  A sudden feeling of joy welled up inside the priest but he quickly took control of himself and presented a picture of heartfelt grief.

  "My brother – Arthur. My God! Was it thieves and vagabonds? They will surely pay a terrible price."

  "No, Uncle. There was a fight between John Trebarfoot and our father."

  "What was a Trebarfoot doing here? They're traitors to the King's cause."

  "He had come to take Kate. They were going off together – eloping. But father heard them and intervened. They clashed. Father was brought down by a stroke of Trebarfoot's sword. But as he fell he plunged his knife into the traitor's chest, killing him stone dead."

  "God bless my brother's soul!" muttered the priest disingenuously. "And curse the traitor who did this foul act."

  "But there is worse," continued Robert. "My sister tried to come between them. But Trebarfoot's blade – the very one that killed our father – passed first through Kate's body, killing her instantly. Trebarfoot not only killed my father – he killed his intended bride too."

  "I am overwhelmed by grief," the priest proclaimed with a little more sincerity.

  "The bodies are in the chapel. Follow me."

  Robert led the priest to the small place of worship that sat by the side of the main house. As they entered through the weathered oak door, it took a while for their eyes to acclimatise to the gloom. The inside was lit by narrow shafts of light that filtered through small windows high in the crumbling walls. As his sight was restored, the priest could make out three shrouds lying on the floor. Two were closed but one was open, revealing the lifeless face of Arthur.

  "We must get them down to the parish church immediately," exclaimed the priest. "There must be a period of mourning and a proper funeral."

  "No," replied Robert emphatically. "We will do what is necessary immediately and inter their bodies in the crypt here. These are dangerous times and we don't want to ferment any further rebellion."

  "But there are procedures. They must be formally identified," argued the priest with indignation.

  Robert pulled himself to his full height and adopted the intimidating demeanor of his father which he had frequently seen him use to good effect.

  "Let me remind you, Uncle, that I am now head of the household and it is my responsibility to pay your stipend. Your help will be well rewarded. But if you act against the family's interests, you will be punished. Am I clear?"

  "So, I need to know what you witnessed tonight?" said Freddie. "I need to know how it ended."

  Doug drew a deep breath and composed himself.

  "It's like trying to recall a dream. It fades rapidly. I was aware of figures in the courtyard – shouting – a fight – swords raised. I could see danger. The dagger poised over John's head. Kate coming between them. An evil force pervading the courtyard. Then, suddenly, I was back in Derby, tackling the Imam. The two scenes became fused in my mind – Arthur's sword, the Imam's gun. I saw Robert in the shadows, blood streaming from his wound. And I saw Hakim lying on the floor, injured but alive. The Imam dropped the gun. I kicked it towards Hakim. Robert held the crossbow but was rigid with fear. I shouted – begging him to shoot. Then a shot. A bullet passed through me and struck Aleena's father and a bolt from Robert's crossbow sank deep into Arthur's chest."

  Sweat poured down Doug's face as he relived the moment. His body trembled.

  "It seemed like one event but I know they were separated by centuries."

  "What about Kate and John?" asked Julia.

  "They survived. I'm sure of that. Arthur's dagger missed its target."

  Julia seized Doug's hand.

  "What of Nick and Aleena? If the two episodes are connected ..."

  Freddie coughed and cleared his throat.

  "I have some information which may help you," he announced quietly. "I didn't want to tell you until I knew the truth about Kate and John. During my research I unexpectedly came across the names of a family called Trebarfoot living in Launceston in 1660. It's not a common name so I wanted to know more. They were identified simply as cloth merchants. By all accounts, they had built up a profitable business. I researc
hed their death certificates and discovered that the woman was called Kate and the man was called Johan."

  "So, not the same name?"

  "It wasn't unusual in those days to elaborate a name, especially amongst the more aspirational middle classes. And it's not a big jump from John to Johan."

  "What happened to them?" asked Julia. "Did they ever return?"

  "I don't think they ever returned to Penhallam and sadly the fortunes of the estate continued to decline under Robert. But I discovered that John and Kate had two children, a boy and a girl. The girl died in infancy but the boy, Henry, followed in his parents' footsteps in the garment business. When he was eighteen, he joined the British East India Company and was sent to India to help manage their outposts. I've found records of him sailing from England in 1671."

  "Why is this relevant?" asked Doug.

  "Well, let me tell you what happens next. By 1675, Henry was stationed in Bombay and was working as assistant manager. Remarkably, the East India Company kept very exact records which have been preserved. They're available online today. I discovered that Henry was a bit of a rebel. He didn't like the corporate environment and was often falling out with his seniors. Finally, in 1680, some incident occurred which led to his dismissal."

  "You mean he was sacked?" asked Julia.

  "Effectively – yes."

  "What happened to him?" enquired Doug.

  "He didn't go back home. By this time he had become integrated into the Indian way of life. It seems that he married a local woman and was adopted into her family. He dropped his English name, Trebarfoot, and took her family name instead."

  "What was that?"

  "Kapur."

  They stayed up until three in the morning talking and going over events. The shock of finding out that the Penhallams and the Trebarfoots had become united in a distant land raised many more questions than it answered. Of course, there was no proof that Aleena was related to those same Kapurs but it nevertheless gave Doug hope that some small degree of sense was beginning to emerge from the cauldron of hatred and paranormal activity in which they seemed to have become embroiled. Freddie turned out to be an immensely intelligent and thoughtful man who Julia and Doug warmed to as the night progressed.