SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow)

by Dax Varley

  Then he stopped. I could feel him standing close, sensing me. The stranger sniffed the air, drew in a deep breath, and said, “Katrina?”

  Oh my! I scrambled out. “Ichabod!”

  With two strides he was there, sweeping me into his arms. “At last,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to mine. I was ravenous for his touch.

  When we finally parted I gazed up at him, then stepped back, bewildered. “How did you know it was me?”

  His mouth creased into a grin. “Your perfume gave you away.”

  I must remember that next time I need to skulk about. “But how is it that you’re here? The Council simply released you?”

  He sat against the edge of his desk. “After I convinced them that I’d sealed The Horseman into his grave.”

  “I’m amazed they believed you.”

  “Oh, trust me, they were skeptical. But after I confessed to sneaking out, robbing the repository, and driving in the blade, I took them to the cemetery and showed them the sword. I have to admit, I put on a pretty good act.” He circled his finger around his nose. “Most people can read this boyish face like a book.”

  Of course that brought about a smile. I turned and leaned against the desk too. “You’d think they’d be awarding you a metal.”

  His eyes widened. “Ha! You should’ve seen the Magistrate. He was furious! I honestly thought he might arrest me for robbery.” He mashed his chin to his neck and rumbled, “You should’ve discussed it with us first, Crane.”

  I covered my laugh with my hand. “What about the sword? How did they determine it was the right one?”

  “By examining the hilt. Even I could see it was the weapon of a madman.” A look of pure admiration then crossed his face. “Katrina, that must’ve taken great strength.”

  “But the outcome was more than worth it.” I brought my lips to his for another glorious kiss.

  His eyes slowly opened as I withdrew. “I have more good news.”

  I couldn’t begin to guess what it was.

  “After some persuading, they agreed that if I’m still in possession of my head on Monday, I can go back to teaching…in the church, of course. And only traditional assignments.” The last part said in another deep-voiced imitation of the Magistrate.

  Relief swept over me. “That’s not good news, Ichabod, that’s great news. Teaching is not something I’m cut out for.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “I love the way you’re cut out.”

  He wrapped me into his arms, warming me from the harsh chill. Which reminded me, “Ichabod, why did you even come here?”

  He glanced around the room. “Because there are still so many unanswered questions. I can’t stop wondering why The Horseman chose me? Why Devenpeck?”

  “Does it even matter now?”

  He tilted his head. “Probably not. But still…what’s his connection to school teachers?”

  “Ichabod, you’re forgetting Garritt. He was educated at home. I don’t think he’d ever set foot in this school. And as far as I know, he barely knew Nikolass.”

  “I’ll always be curious.” Then he looked at me quizzically. “Now it’s your turn. Why are you here?”

  That brought me back to the bitter truth. “I was searching for my tiny rose.”

  “Of course. I’d forgotten. Where have you looked?”

  I held my palms up. “Everywhere.” Then sighing, I asked, “Do you think one of the children could’ve kept it?”

  “No. To them, the money I offered was more valuable than the rose. Not to mention the extra points I promised for their grade. Trust me, they not only cleaned up the mess that day, they rooted through everything.”

  My heart ached. “I can’t leave till I find it.”

  “Then we’ll find it. But let me light a fire first. This cold is making your nose red.” He kissed the tip of it.

  As he started for the fireplace I grabbed his arm. “Wait! I haven’t thoroughly searched there.” I hurried over, knelt, and shoved aside some of the logs. Then I ran my hand along the cobbled floor. There was an unusual amount of debris – snapped twigs, dirt clods, bird feathers. I’d never seen so much fall through a chimney. As I skimmed across it something pricked my finger. “Ow!” I quickly withdrew my hand and examined it. A large splinter had pierced the skin, the wound already livid.

  Ichabod pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Hold still.”

  “That’s going to be extremely difficult,” I said, quaking from the cold.

  “Yes, it’d be easier to remove the sliver if my hands weren’t shaking too. I’ll light a fire first.”

  Drops of blood were beginning to form so I wound his handkerchief around my finger.

  Once the fire was lit, Ichabod brought over a basin of water. He took my hand, cradling it in his. “And now, my fair patient.”

  I bit my lip as he slid the splinter free. The burning pain was nothing compared to the blood that freely streamed. He dipped the handkerchief in the water and pressed it to the puncture.

  “Ay! That water’s freezing.”

  He tied it on tight. “Good. It will stop the bleeding faster.”

  I looked down at the bulky wet bandage. “Thank you, Doctor.” Just when we were leaning for a kiss, we noticed the air had gone thick and gray. Puffs of dark smoke billowed from the fireplace.

  Ichabod waved his hand in front of his face. “The chimney’s clogged.”

  I remembered the twigs and feathers. “I think there were birds nesting in there.” I covered my mouth, coughing.

  Our eyes watered as he went for the broom. Staying clear of the flames, he thrust the handle up into the flue. “There’s something blocking it.” He prodded and poked, shielding his nose with his crooked arm.

  “Ichabod, I can barely breathe. Let’s extinguish it and –”

  Right then, a welter of dead birds and dried sprigs crashed down from the chimney. Ichabod jumped back as the heap struck the hearth. Debris rolled toward us, bringing flaming embers with it.

  I shot back, keeping my hem raised.

  While the smoke now rose upward, the room was still filled with a stinging haze. Ichabod stomped out some of the cinders. But I reacted quickly, picking up the basin, pitching the water and dousing the fire.

  We both stood back, agape.

  “What in God’s name?” I muttered.

  There were at least a dozen dead blackbirds cluttering the floor, sticks and vines entangled in their wings.

  “Now we know what caused the blockage,” he said, fanning the musky air.

  “But how? Why?” I looked to him, still astounded. “Was this the work of The Horseman?”

  He put his arm around me, drawing me close. “No. This was a manmade nest.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, “but I think we’d better leave.”

  As much as I longed to find that bead, I knew he was right.

  We made our way through the smoky room and stepped out into the misty air. I inhaled, clearing the smoke from my lungs.

  He nodded toward my hand. “How is your finger?”

  My finger. I’d nearly forgotten. I untied the handkerchief to examine it. “Swollen.” It still bled.

  He turned the handkerchief over and retied it. “It needs a poultice to prevent infection.”

  “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

  Placing his hands on my cheeks, he leaned down and kissed me. The medicine I truly needed.

  “I love you, Katrina.”

  “I love you too.”

  He gazed on me, his eyes soft. “When can we meet again?”

  “After the school day tomorrow. The granary at Bliss.”

  He cocked a brow. “The naming of that property was great foresight on your part.”

  Then we were intertwined again, kissing with passion. I eventually gained my senses and, whispered, “Ichabod, though it hurts me to leave you, I may well bleed to death.”

  He relaxed into a smile.
“Go take care of your finger. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with one last kiss, we parted.

  * * *

  Father never said a word about Ichabod at dinner. And I certainly didn’t press. I’m sure in some roundabout way, he felt sealing The Horseman was yet another attempt by Ichabod to make him look incompetent. He hurriedly chewed his food, then throwing his napkin upon the table, he finally looked my way. “Katrina, I’ll need you to take care of all the arrangements for the party.”

  My jaw dropped. “We’re still having our harvest party?”

  “Of course,” he bellowed, eyes wide. “We have much to celebrate.”

  My dinner became all the tastier.

  * * *

  The next day dawned as frigid and damp, yet reminders of icy rooms and tumbled birds could not erase my joy.

  I reached the granary early, spread out the quilt and waited. A short time later, I heard Ichabod’s footsteps on the stairs.

  His dark hair glistened from the mist and his vibrant eyes glimmered – sending a wave of tingles throughout me. He knelt and inspected my bandaged finger. “Is it better?”

  “Much better, though the children taunted me, saying I sliced it on my sharp tongue.”

  “Ah, yes.” He nodded. “I’ve heard that you are a most cruel schoolmistress.”

  I huffed. “I certainly can’t have them taking advantage of me.”

  “Of course not,” he said, drawing me close. “That’s my job.”

  We kissed for a time, holding…touching…caressing. It was as though nothing existed outside the granary walls. But still, there was something gnawing at me.

  “Ichabod?”

  “Umm-hum?” he answered, nibbling my ear.

  “Did Elise come to see you?”

  He sat back. “Yes, she came bearing strudel.”

  “And?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “She told me she was pleased with what I’d done, complimented me on my bravery, and said she looked forward to when I could dine with her family again.”

  She’ll never give up.

  “That was it?”

  “That was it.”

  I stretched my legs in front of me and scoffed. “At least her father informed her of your release.”

  Ichabod teasingly pursed his lips. “I’m beginning to think Baltus doesn’t like me.”

  “Only because he’s stubborn, old-fashioned, and can’t accept change.”

  His eyes softened as they met mine. “Perhaps that why he keeps you so close.”

  The thought lingered. Father’s dominance toward me had started just after Mother died. Did he really fear losing me? “Regardless, he’d never allow us to be together. Not as long as we remain in the Hollow.”

  He rolled a lock of my hair in his fingers. “Then let’s not remain.”

  I snapped my eyes to him. “You want to leave?”

  His never flickered. “Don’t you?”

  I felt so light, I feared I might float away. I placed my hands on his face and drew him into a deep kiss. But within the passion, my mind churned, remembering Marten’s scheme. “Ichabod, we need to plan our departure.”

  He smiled, still drunk from the kiss…and the thought of us leaving, I guess. “We could go now if you’d like. This second. What’s to stop us?”

  “Plenty. Father’s money goes a long way. He’ll stop at nothing to bring me back.”

  He sat a little taller, his face taut. “Katrina, don’t. We can go halfway around the world if that eases your mind, but I won’t spend the rest of my life constantly looking over my shoulder.”

  “But I will.” I rolled onto my knees. “I’d always be wondering what bounty Father had set.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “If it’ll make you feel safer, then we’ll come up a plan.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. “I already know a way.”

  He waited, listening.

  “I have a friend who’s recently purchased a ship…”

  * * *

  The days leading up to the party were spent in preparation. Our home was overrun with servants who aired linens, buffed wood, and polished silver. The new overseer had arrived, yet Father still spent time away from the house.

  I kept my nose to the ledgers, budgeting for the affair, and seeing to every detail. Father was right. There was much to celebrate.

  Now, more than ever, I couldn’t be seen near Marten’s ship. If Father thought I’d escaped with Ichabod, Marten would have nothing to fear. And thank God we no longer needed Peter Bottoms.

  On the evening of the party, Leta fastened me into a rose taffeta gown. Once my tresses were securely pinned, I powdered my face and bosom and stepped into white brocade slippers. I swept into our great room to check that everything was in place. The fragrance of alabaster roses filled the air. Amber and cream ribbons wound up our banister. And every wall shimmered with flickering candlelight. As always, it was like stepping into a fairy tale.

  Soon came the first knock at the door.

  Father and I stood together, greeting the guests as they arrived. As usual, Reverend Bushnell was the first. He spouted pleasantries and praised the Lord for delivering us from our recent nightmare.

  Reverend, I did the delivering. You should be praising me.

  He was followed by a few members of the Council. Even Notary de Graff came, though he was still dressed in mourning clothes. His hand trembled when I took it to thank him for coming.

  I’d barely finished greeting him when I heard a saucy voice say, “We got our real schoolteacher back.” Dirk Jansen. He glared up at me, his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

  The little oaf.

  “Believe me, Dirk. No one is happier about that than I.”

  “I doubt that,” he countered. He poked out his tongue, then motioned for his brother, Devlin. They pushed past me, tracking their way to the table of sweets.

  Was it wrong that I’d hoped the pastries would rot his little teeth?

  As I turned back, Elise stood before me in an ice blue gown dripping with lace. Her golden hair, pinned up in curls, was adorned with gossamer butterflies. And the glass beads of her necklace twinkled their way down to a delicate jay feather pendant. My breath caught at the sight of her.

  “Elise, you’re dazzling.” How did she afford such splendor?

  Her smile was as cold as her eyes. “Thank you. You look quite lovely tonight too.”

  “Please,” I whispered. “Let’s resolve this.”

  She turned her nose and walked in, ignoring my plea.

  How regal will she feel when she hears Ichabod and I have run away?

  A few more villagers arrived, offering compliments and bits of banter. The music had already begun, and laughter floated from our great room. I felt light and uplifted…then along came Peter Bottoms. Just the sight of him caused my stomach to shrivel. He took my hand and leered with yellow eyes. “Why Katrina, you look good enough to eat.”

  Hot bile rose to my throat. I was tempted to spit it into his face. Thank God, this will be the last I’ll see of him. “Believe me, Peter, you’d find me quite sour.”

  He leaned close, clicking his mouth. “I’d still like a taste.”

  Before I could react, he laughed and walked away.

  I promptly wiped my hand on my skirt, then turned to the next guest.

  Three more families passed, then Ichabod approached. I was absolutely agog. His black silk suit and ivory waistcoat fit flawlessly – every fold of lace on his neckcloth perfect. There was a bluish tinge to his raven-wing hair, and his emerald eyes sparkled. My breath hitched just thinking that this delicious creature was all mine.

  He greeted us with a smile as warm as our hearth.

  Father’s face pinched. “Well, Crane, you’re still in one piece. That risky endeavor paid off for you.”

  “More preservation than risk,” Ichabod said. “And as I see it, it paid off for everyone.”

  Father’s e
xpression held firm. “Curious though. I’d never have thought to look in Smedt’s store, even after Katrina questioned me.” He peered down at me, his eyes dark slits.

  Ichabod came to my defense. “I’d asked her through our correspondence if she knew what had become of the confiscated weapons. I’m just grateful the sword was there.”

  “All in all,” Father chided, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

  A vein in Ichabod’s jaw pulsed. “And which lesson would that be?”

  “You can’t mock God with all this progressive thought. It leads to no good end.” Father bit each word as it rolled from his mouth.

  Ichabod clapped him on the back. “Sound advice, Baltus. I’ll advise President Washington.” Knowing we were leaving had made him beyond brave.

  Now it was Father’s jaw that tightened. Ichabod quickly stepped forward and took my hand. “Katrina, you are absolutely radiant this evening.”

  Thank you, Ichabod,” I said, a thousand tingles feathering through me. “That was most kind of you to say.”

  He discreetly winked before walking away.

  Over the next several minutes we welcomed more guests. The displaying of wigs, plumes, blossoms, and jewels were a colorful parade. But my eyes kept straying, catching glimpses of Ichabod. It was during one of those musing moments when I heard, “Katrina.” Marten stood before me. He looked charming in a crimson tailcoat and black breeches – a contrast to his usual sweaty clothes. Every sun-kissed strand of hair was combed, and he smelled of toilet water.

  “Marten, I’m so glad you’ve come.” Then in a near whisper, I said, “We must speak.”

  His eyebrows dipped and his eyes lit, warning me to stay quiet. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.” Then with a smile, he added, “I’ll see you inside.”

  A few more villagers followed, then I went about my hostess duties. My eye was continually on the spread of luscious pastries across the room. When I finally made it to the table, I was weighed with a major decision. Cranberry or lemon tart? An arm reached around, offering me a glass of brandy punch. “It appears our ship’s captain is in attendance,” Ichabod said softly in my ear.

  “Shhh.” I took the glass. “I’ll speak with him later, when everyone’s too tipsy to notice.” I took a sip of the tangy drink.

  “Good.” Then Ichabod quirked a brow. “What happens if you become too tipsy?”