Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631)

by Wolf, Jack

  Between the long Slope and the Lawn itself was a banked stone Wall, invisible from the House, but high enough to prevent Animals from wandering freely into the Gardens. A proper Ha-ha, I thought, unlike the one at Shirelands, which was in Truth nothing but an hedged Ditch. I called loudly for a Groom to come and attend my Chestnut, and then, he being taken off mine Hands, I headed with Katherine thro’ the wrought iron Gateway that led up to Withy Grange.

  The Grass here, as we climbed the wall Steps, was new mown and somewhat dampe. Katherine pointed to the Hem of her Petticoat, which had grown bright green from the spilt Juice, and laughed. The Sound sparkled. I wished I could capture it in a Flask.

  We crosst the Lawn together, yet apart, right up to the front Door, where we were met by Barnaby’s Footman. He conveyed us to my Sister’s morning Room, where she sate with Sophia.

  “Allow me to restore to you someone you had lost,” I said to Jane at once upon entering the Room, to allay her Suspicion. “Miss Montague, who was wandering the Grounds. Dear Sister, Withy Grange doth indeed possess the most enchanting Views.”

  Katherine sate down upon the window Seat, and feigning a compleat Lack of Interest in me, took up a slender Volume of Sidney’s Astrophel and concentrated all her Attention upon it. Her Dissemblance is masterly, I thought.

  Jane’s sitting Room was in its Furnishings as delicate and light as she was. The smooth Walls were painted in a faint Shade of green that was echoed in the Upholstery of the Chairs and high backed Sophas. The main Colour was provided by the Curtains, which were an hopeful and enduring pea Hue that turned the silver tea-Stove copper green, and cast a sickly wash upon the leaded Countenances of the Ladies. I imagined that Jane, in ordering the Curtains, had not made any Allowance for the Quality of morning Light thro’ her Windows. Nevertheless, the Room was pleasant enough, and I smiled to see Jane so happily enthroned Mistress of it.

  “Oh, I am so glad that you approve of Withy Grange!” Jane said. “For then you will visit often. And thank you for bringing Miss Montague up, as Miss Ravenscroft is upon the Point of Leaving and would have been delayed.”

  I took this as my Cue to pay my Compliments to Sophia. Her Response seemed cold; I feared that perhaps she had seen too much of mine Encounter with Katherine. She had Cause, I supposed, to feel badly used.

  “How doth Mr Barnaby?” I asked my Sister, quitting Sophia with a shallow Bow.

  “Very well. He is presently inspecting the Work we are having done about the old Orchard.”

  What? I thought. Is he to grub that up, too? But I said: “You did not mention anything to me of any Orchard.”

  Jane looked puzzled. “I did, Brother. When I wrote to you at Christmas I told you all about it. Do you not recall the Trouble poor Mr B. had in evicting those Vagabonds who had taken up home in it?”

  “Why, no,” I said.

  “Did not you read my Letter, Tristan?” Jane said.

  “I did, Madam,” I answered; tho’ ’twas another Lie, for I knew well that I had not.

  “Then you will know,” Jane continued, somewhat crossly, “that Mr B. was forced to call in the Constable, and have the whole Tribe threatened with Arrest for Vagrancy; and that in the End ’twas only fear of Hanging that caused them to remove.”

  All of a sudden I apprehended her Meaning—more than her Meaning, in truth, for in my Sister’s honest Eyes I could discern no Sign of any secret Intimation. Yet the Event stood now to me as clear as Dayelight. Barnaby, in his Strivings to improve Withy Grange, had evicted Nathaniel Ravenscroft.

  “Did this all take place last Summer?” I asked.

  “You did not read my Letter, did you?”

  “I did,” I said. “Truly, I did. Tho’ I may not have read all of it.”

  Jane sighed.

  “It is Time for us to go,” Sophia said, rising to her Feet with great Abruptness. “Thank you, my dear Mrs Barnaby, for shewing me around your beautifull House.”

  I realised that this must be my Parting from Katherine, and my Ribcage clenched. I knew not when I should see her next; and altho’ this had been the Case two Nights before, the Wrench seemed now the greater for the Morning’s Reassertion of our Closeness.

  Katherine looked up, and closed her Poems.

  “La! I have lost my Glove,” Sophia said.

  The next few Minutes were all perplext in Sophia’s Leaving, and in locating her Glove and pocket-Book, which she had droppt. Katherine stood still, her Gaze threaded tight thro’ mine, and her lower Lip presst white between her crooked Teeth. Neither of us made Attempt to help Sophia.

  There was nothing I could do. Nothing. In mine Heart, I should gladly have brought Katherine Montague straight away from the House and carried her to London; but it was not even possible for me to take Hold of her Hand. ’Tis not right, I thought, that we must be parted so! If only I were already of Age! If I but had an Income of mine own!

  “I wish you the safest Journey, Miss Montague,” I said.

  “Thank you, Sir,” said Katherine.

  Sophy, having recovered her Belongings, took her leave of Jane, and wished me well, saying that she hoped to meet again come Christmas-tide. I offered my polite Farewells, and then Sophia departed the Room, taking my darling Girl with her.

  The Aire snapped her Absence like a Whip.

  I left the Grange at about four o’ the Clock, before Barnaby returned for Dinner, and out of Curiosity rode home by Way of the old Orchard, from where I felt sure he should by now be gone. Mine Head was full of Katherine, but there was yet a little Space for Nathaniel, who, I was certain, had spent his last Weeks in the Parish in that Place. I was desirous to see the Sward upon which he had slept, the Trees beneath which he must have sheltered. Yet I was anxious too, for here, I guessed, Viviane had camped also.

  I rode around the outside of the Gardens, keeping by the Wall. The Orchard lay some fifty Yards westward of the Grange. It, too, was walled, but from atop my Chestnut this presented no Barrier to my Sight. The Orchard looked to be very old indeed; older than the House, and even older than the Willows. The Trees grew twisted, and too tall to climb, and very few seemed to be bearing Fruit. Upon a few of the very oldest I could see Mistletoe spindling about the tallest Branches, like green Cobwebs.

  The Grass below, where Nathaniel must have lain, was thick with Moss, and had been close cropped by three white Goats the Gardener grazed here for that Purpose. If I had expected to find any Trace of Nat, I was come many Months too late.

  I looked to see what Works Barnaby had been inspecting. I soon discovered that the far Wall of the Orchard had been badly crumbled by Rain, and that there had formed a Gap, some thirteen Feet in Width, that had lain open to the outside Fields. This plainly had been Barnaby’s Concern, for the Gap was now all but sealed, and the Men who had laboured the Daye upon it were packing up their Tools and preparing to depart. I wondered that he should have stayed so long about the Supervision of a Task that was suited to neither his Rank nor his Ability, and I imagined that he must have proved a great Annoyance to the Masons.

  Trotting closer, I was readying My Self to question the nearest of the Men, when he, who had his Back to me, turned unexpectedly about, and spat deliberately upon the Grass.

  To my great Dismay, I perceived that it was Joseph Cox, the Bull’s Manservant. Dismisst, I thought with scorn, and sunk to take daye Labour wherever he could get it.

  Immediately, I suffered the violent Recoil in my Gut that had afflicted me that Morning at the Bull. Evil rose from Cox in a Miasma. Even my Chestnut appeared to feel it. Stiffening, he began to prance upon the Spot, his ears pricked forward in a great Alarum as he surveyed the swarthy Goblin who stood swaggering insolent before us.

  Cox looked me up and down, and his Lip curled. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Sir.”

  “What do you here, Cox?” I demanded.

  “I’s buildin’ a Wall, Sir,” Cox answered, adding, again after a Pause, and in the most surly of Tones, “if’n that’s all right wi’ you
, Sir.”

  “If your Work is finished, then begone with you,” I said. “You are not to loiter here. Do you understand?”

  “Oh, I do understand ’ee, Sir,” said Joe Cox, with a low Sneer.

  Instinct made me put my Heels to my Chestnut, and riding right upon the Man, I raised my Whip to strike him. The Crescent of my sunnelit Arm loomed stark against the Shaddowes.

  Joe Cox fell backwards into the Wall, and lifted both Arms to defend himself against my Blow; but I did not let it fall. “Cross my Path again, Cox, and you shall suffer for’t,” I told him. “Take up your Workman’s Tools, and leave.”

  I was prepared to have left the Matter there; I pulled mine Horse up short, and readied mine Heels to have cantered him away. But Cox scrambled to his Feet.

  “Take up my Tools?” he growled. “That I shall; an’ if ’ee do come at me again I sh’ll use ’un to crack thy Head open, Squire’s Son or no. I oan never takin’ no Orders off’n you.”

  I caught my Breath. “How dare you threaten me? You are in my Brother-in-law’s Employ, Cox! I will see to it that your Insolence costs you your Place.” I drove my Chestnut forward again, and slashed my Whip, as hard and furious as I could, across the pig-Man’s Face.

  To mine utter Amazement, Cox did not flinch from the Blow. He merely wiped his Mouth upon the Back of his Hand, as if he had felt nothing at all, and stared up at me, his brutish Visage contorting into a contemptuous Leer. “Aye, Sir,” he said. “You do that, Sir, and see what Answer ’ee do get; there’s Few as’ll work for Mr Barnaby, but there’s Many wantin’ Labour.”

  Enraged by his Defiance, I threw up my Whip again, but a sudden Recollection of My Self, and of my Station, stayed mine Hand. It should have been below me to have been arguing thus with such a low Creature as Joseph Cox. Instead, I did what I should have done before, kicked my Chestnut into a Canter, and without another Word to Cox, left him there standing.

  My Lungs ached as if I had been breathing Poison. I had to gallop for a Mile or more before the clean Aire washed the Stench away.

  Finally, my Passion began to subside; I slowed mine Horse to a walk, and patted his foamy Neck. Had he truly perceived, as I had, that Cox was evil? The Philosophers whose Works I had studied seemed generally to be in Agreement with Descartes that Creatures, being mere Automata, perceived nothing, even Pain. The Reverend Hales’ haemostatick Vivisections had been performed upon Horses.

  Yet Dr Hunter had impresst on me the Primacy of mine own Observations; and time after time these had appeared directly to contradict this Assertion. The Creatures upon whom I had performed mine Experiments had often shewn me Signs of extream Suffering, and I did not feel inclined to dismiss mine Observations as mere Fancy. I raised my Whip, in a Spirit of Proof, and brought it down smarting upon mine Horse’s Flank. He broke at once into a Trot. Wherefore? I thought. Surely, he seeketh to escape the Pain. What would occur if I were to continue to beat him, until he reached the Limit of his Speed, and still he suffered it? What occurs in the Perceptions of an Animal in Pain? Is it in any Way akin to that of an Human Being? Verily, he sees, he feels; he hath a Mind, of a Sort.

  If ’tis possible, I thought, that he may sense as subtile a thing as Pain, then surely the Creature must perceive Evil, which hath an objective Existence.

  He had perceived it. We, both, had perceived it.

  The Thought of Pain cast my Mind’s Eye back within my Study, upon Katherine, and her sweet Blood flowing, pure and swift, an Exaltation in my Sight. All at once, Revelation shone, clear as if it wound in front of me: A subtile Chain, Perception itself; communicated intimately from one Mind unto another thro’ the Impulse, the bodily Sensation; Pain. Pain needeth neither Language, nor Reason. It crosseth all Boundaries: betwixt Man and Beast, Monster and Angel, even between Sinner and God. Did not Christ Himself suffer the most enduring Agonies upon the Cross?

  ’Tis a Species of Love, I thought.

  Arriving home, I retired to my Study after Dinner, and abandoning as beneath my Dignity any Idea of writing my Sister about the absurd Behaviour of Joseph Cox, went thence to Bed, where Dreams of Katherine, and Nightmares of Nathaniel and Viviane, delighted and tormented me in equal Measure, till the short midsummer Night was at its End.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I returned to London on the following Morning. I was glad to be arriving in the old City, filthy and lousy as it was, and as the smokey Towers of Westminster hove in Sight against the blue Sky mine Heart near leapt for Joy. I had ridden, in Company with James the Footman, the whole Distance from Shirelands, and altho’ mine Arse was sore, my Spirits were light. The Country between Berkshire and London had lain open before me like a green Cloth, embroidered with many little Woods and Cottages. Here and there thro’out the Counties, new-planted Hedgerows sprouted like Bristles upon a Brush. James and I, to pass the Time, played our own Species of travelling Piquet and I won, my Score consisting of twenty Persons walking, seven Flocks of Geese, twelve Carriages and one old hedge Whore, by which I won the Game outright. James laughed fit to burst, and said that I should collar the Parson next; but I never did.

  I set about unpacking my Trunk, and was putting away my Convict’s Skull, whilst pondering the Volume of its Brain, when I was interrupted by Liza at the Door with a Letter that Minute arrived for me from Berkshire. This Surprize at once put all Ideas of Surgery out of my Mind; I could only imagine the Letter to be from Jane, and I could not see why she should write to me so soon. For a Moment, I was grippt by Dread. Then I perceived the unformed Handwriting upon the Address, and mine Heart jolted, for I realised that it was from Katherine.

  I turned about, the Letter crushed against my Chest. I locked the Door behind me and sate down upon my Bed.

  The Letter, I could tell from the Feel of it, ran to several Pages, and I wondered that she had been able to post it without the Complicity, or Suspicion, of anyone within the Household, and from whom she had learned my London Address. Perhaps, I thought, she had slippt it into a Pile of other Correspondence, hoping that it would go unnoticed. As there were always such Comings and Goings of Persons and Papers within and without the Rectory, this may not have been difficult.

  With shivering Hands, I broke open the Seal. Then I stoppt. My Body had responded to the Thought of Katherine as readily as if she were in my Presence. Miss Montague, I thought, doth not object to my dark Skin, or to my black Hair. I tried for a Moment to calm My Self, then began again to unfold the Paper.

  Dear Mr Hart

  I hope that You are not too Displeas’d by my Writing to You. I am Here (at Collerton) for another Month, as Mama hath writ to say that she will not be Readye for me to go Home till July when my Brother Albert gets his Leave and he can fetch me from the Post in Weymouth.

  I have tryed hard to Keep my Word to You and I will continue to Keep it. Aunt R. says I am not Quite the Savidge any longer and I am to spend more Time with Mrs B. because she is a good Influence. I hope You are Happy to hear this.

  I know that You do not enjoye long Letters, so I shall not bore You with Newes and such that You will get from Mrs B. I have been Studying my English Composition and have written You a Story about Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones of which I hope You will Approve. It is not a Nursery Tale, for I have made it up out of my own Head, and it is a very fright-full Yarn, with Blood and Gore and Horrid Death in it.

  Your Friend

  Katherine Montague

  The Tale of Leonora

  Once, there were twin Brothers of Noble Birth, who were in all things the greatest of Rivals. Their names were Raw Head and Bloody Bones, because when the Sunne went downe they Transformed into Horrible Monsters. Raw Head had but a Scull from which all the Fleashe had gonne, so that his Haire grewe directly from the Bone as Seaweed doth upon a Rocke. Bloody Bones became a Skeleton with Bones as Redd as Fire and Eyes like burning Embers.

  Bothe were Bad to looke upon, and Worse still to meet with, but Raw Head was the Worst; for whilst Bloody Bones could stripp the Skin from a M
an’s Backe with his long Fingernailes, one Glance from Raw Head could smite him into a Pitch Black Madness from which there was no Return.

  Now Raw Head hath gonne away to seeke his Fortune in the West, and Bloody Bones is left Alone upon his Father’s Estate. One Daye Bloody Bones is walking in the Fields, appearing most Handsome and richly Dresst, for ’tis the Dayetime. There he meets with a Sea Captain’s Daughter, who is called Leonora, and she hath eyes as Blue as Forgetmenots and is as lovely as the June Sky. They fell in Love and planned there and then to be Marryed after several Sundayes at the Church on the Hill. But Bloody Bones could not tell Leonora his Dread Secret, for he feared that she would Flee from him if he did.

  So the Weddinge went ahead, and on their Weddinge night Leonora wonders why her Husband shuts himself away. Doth he not Desire to lie with me? she sayes.

  Then one fell Night an evil Goblin stole into the House and carryed her off to his Lair on the high Moor. And Bloody Bones, getting up the next Daye goes into his Wife’s Chamber and cryes: O Woe! Alack! Where is my poor Leonora!

  And the Maid says: She is Gonne, up on the Moor, for the Goblins have Stolen her.

  So Bloody Bones pulls on his Cote and takes up his Pistols and his Sword, and he calls for his Horse and Rides up on the Moor to Hunt for Leonora.

  When she Hears him, for his Voice can Carry for Miles and Miles, Leonora cryes: O, My Darling! My Love! My Dearest! Forget mee not, My Bloody Bones, How I miss Thee! Tell mee what I must do, for these Vile Goblins have taken me Prisoner!