The Barrow Lover

by Patrick Todoroff

  I recall several bouts of arm wrestling, some dice (win up, lose down, end back at the start. Ain't that the story of my life.). A fierce round of darts 'tween Meany's crew and the blacksmith's boys, one fight betwixt the same, followed by ardent apologies and a couple ditties with verses I can't repeat in polite company. By the time the crowd had staggered home, my purse was far lighter than I wanted. But it was worth every cent.

  Even better, I had the promise of more tomorrow, so I'd call that a good day.

  When my head finally stopped swimming, the fire was fairy flames dancing on a bed of embers. Night had inked in the windowpanes solid raven. The pub was empty save me and Paddy, me well snattered and him snoring in the corner.

  I licked my lips and looked down. My socks were dry and still on my feet, as opposed to in my mouth like it tasted. I nicked a heel of bread from the ruins of somebody's dinner and was gnawing away when Teagan plopped down beside me.

  "Cup of tea with that?" she piped up.

  I bit back a groan. "Right nice of you to ask."

  A steaming mug appeared on the table in front of me.

  I sipped and scalded the roof of my mouth. It didn't matter. "Have I told you I love you?" I croaked.

  "A thousand times."

  "I meant every word." I ogled her bosom. "Some parts more than others perhaps."

  She punched me on the shoulder, tugged up her blouse.

  "Easy, love, I'm all delicate," I cried. I composed what I hoped was a serious face. "So when are you going to marry me, Tea?"

  "What, and leave all this?" She spread her hands and gestured around the room.

  "To feed, trough and muck out a herd of fluthered men?"

  "It's in my blood; four generations of dealing with the besotted."

  "I'm being earnest here," I said.

  "So am I.”She laughed. “You're asking me to feed, trough and muck up after you, only with a baby on each hip. No, thank you."

  I put on a sulk, threw the crust into the fire.

  "Quit your pouting, Declan darlin’. You're in need of a good sleep, not a good snoggin’."

  "I get to choose?"

  She peeled off a frown and changed the subject. Case closed. Teagan leaned over and nodded at Paddy. "So...what'd he dowse up?"

  I shrugged, grumpy. Hoping against hope for a repeal. Got me a stern look instead.

  "Guess I'll be tallying your bar tab now," she said idly.

  Teagan Cooney could be as hard as nails when she wanted. One more reason I was so keen on her.

  "Bit of jewelry. Gold." I finally answered.

  She whistled. "Olden?"

  "Dunno," I shrugged. "Foreign, more like. A piece with gravened letters like I'd never seen." That tiny face leapt to mind and I wondered at all that lovely sadness. "It was nice though."

  Teagan poked my ribs. "How nice?"

  "Six crowns nice."

  She squeaked. "Fade forked over six for it? Practically a sign of the second coming, that is. Silver out of him is like pulling teeth." She stared at the blushing coals for a long minute. "Must be worth a heap if he's willing to part with that much. There more?"

  I waved at Paddy, who was snoozing away with a faint smile on his lips. "Could be. Felt something big, he said."

  "Treasure in County Crae..."she mused. "Where?"

  "Pick and spade at the crack of dawn? That your plan?" I asked.

  She shook her head and laughed pretty as a flute. "Finders keepers, Dec. Seems like there's plenty to go 'round anyway."

  "East in the woods. Past the creek on a little hill."

  "Near a copse of rowans?"

  "And how do you know that?" I demanded.

  "Cloch chinn d'ailbe bhean," she said, and crossed herself.

  "Come again?"

  There was something of a fright in her eyes when she looked up. "The White Lady's Headstone. That's what my Ma called the place."

  A log snapped. We both started. Not especially religious, I had the urge to cross myself all of a sudden, too.

  Still, fear might have its uses, but cowardice never did. I turned to face Teagan. "Do tell," I said.

  "She was little," Teagan began. "We're talking donkey's years, before the Fichti mounted Prince Aedh's head on a pike, when Airam was still the second in line—the 'heir and the spare' so to speak."

  "Handy, having an extra," I muttered.

  "Lucky for King Arnaw they did. Anyways, my Gran had sent her for mushrooms or to turn up some lost sheep. I can't remember which. She told me she'd been traipsing around the other side of the creek all afternoon, and dark was coming fast."

  Another sip of tea. "Not that this ain't fascinating, love..."

  She scowled. "That morning a royal coach had passed though Carn, she said. All gilt and paint, drawn by big fine horses."

  "Royal? Says who?"

  "She said there was fancy banners, pages with horns, and a detachment of guards decked out in polished armor. It didn't stop. Ma said they all figured it was heading to Daire on the coast. Lord knows why it was coming through Carn, but no one durst ask. A quick kneel, then back to chores. No one gave it any mind after."

  Teagan continued. "Ma remembers the rowan fruit was in full bloom, big clusters hanging off the branches like fat blood marbles. It was supper time, and she was eating a handful when she spied 'em."

  "Who, the guards?"

  "The whole kit and boodle, carriage and all. Only it was parked near the little hill and there was two ladies standing outside it carrying on."

  "Two ladies? Gentry?"

  "Aye. Flouncy dresses, bangles, faces sharp as hawks. One young and pretty, the other handsome, but old enough to be her ma."

  "Having a row in the woods? She heard 'em?"

  "Not exact but enough to get the meaning. Ma said it was all shrieks and nails. She remembers Prince Airam's name came up several times. And the King."

  I motioned for Teagan to continue.

  "Ma said the arguing crested, then the older one looked past the younger to a big soldier standing by and made this little motion with her hand. Then she turned her back on the girl."

  "The lass get mad?"

  "Probably, but Ma said the instant the lady turned away, this big soldier stepped up behind the girl quiet as a shadow and cut her throat.

  "He what?"

  Teagan nodded solemnly. "In one stroke. Like she was a lamb. Ma said blood sheeted down the front of the fancy dress like a waterfall, snow white turning red as roses. The older lady kept looking away, still as a statue."

  "Then what?"

  "She ran."

  "Who?"

  She hit me with the towel again. "My ma, you twit. Who'dja think?" Teagan paused. "Never ate another rowan berry to this day."

  I absorbed that, thought another minute. "She tell anyone?" I finally asked.

  "Obvious she told me, innit?"

  "Right. I mean back then."

  Teagan shook her head slowly. "Locked it up inside for years. Not even a peep in the confessional. She really gonna spill to the Vicar? Or slog all the way to Daire or Dubhlinn for a magister? Her word 'gainst a royal lady...they'd have cut her tongue out."

  I chewed my lip, remembering that girl's sleeping grief. Getting your neck opened would be tragic, sure as sure. "Your Ma remember seeing any jewelry? Like a big locket 'round one of their necks?"

  "I told you it was too far for particulars."

  An idea crashed into me: Fade hadn't paid in full yet, so I could borrow the locket back first thing tomorrow. Just long enough to trudge over to Ma Conney's for part of the day. "You think she'd recognize the lass if she saw a picture?"

  "Get the wax out, Dec. What’d I just say?"

  Teagan was right that I wasn't listening. That tiny face had a hook in me, and I had a strange notion it would ease her sorrow if I solved the riddle. Somehow.

  I was teetering on explaining when Paddy snorted awake.

  He belched, rubbed his face. "Hullo." Freckles, hair mushed up on one side, he loo
ked like a kid up from a nap.

  Teagan passed him the rest of my tea. "Here. More's coming." She gave me a 'hush, now' look, and went back to the kitchen.

  I watched Paddy blink himself awake, and my heart swelled. Simple as he could be at times, there wasn't a drop of spoil in him. We'd been born in the same month, and with our parents’farms separated by a single stone wall, we'd been best mates since we were in nappies. My Da had drilled into me to never desert a friend. So even after it came out Paddy was touched, I stuck by him. In the fields, in town, at school, wherever, all growing up. Twenty-three years, I never got him into any trouble I couldn't get him out of. And after the fever took my parents—God rest their souls—he was all the family I had left in this world. But dead girls, old jewelry, murderous royalty... I was out of my depth here.

  Teagan was right; too much drink and drama, not enough sleep. My head would be screwed on better in the morning. After a good breakfast—and the other half of my share from Fade. That made me smile.

  I stood, floorboards creaking and swaying under my feet. "Paddy," I said, "where are my boots?"

  He looked at me bleary, a curious grin on his face.

  I lifted one stocking foot above the table height. "They were drying this morning. And now...?”

  Paddy focused a moment, staring off into some middle distance I'd never see. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. "One's under that table," he pointed. "The other's outside."

  "Outside? How the—?"

  He cocked his head at me as if I should know."By the outhouse."

  Took me a quarter hour hopping around the yard with a lantern, but I found it. Teagan thought it was hilarious.

  ***

  Paddy and I aimed our way toward our rooms at Widow Halloran’s. Carn was sound asleep all around us and we meandered down the street between wagon ruts, trying to remember the more behaved verses of a tune about a ship named Venus. Thankfully, it was near bright as noon. The storm had scoured the sky clean, leaving a huge buttermilk moon adrift in a dark sea of stars. A stiff breeze ferried the sharp balm of pine and damp earth over fields brimming with cricket song. It was a beautiful evening after a near perfect day.

  "You're sweet on Teagan," Paddy said, out of the blue.

  Teagan had this husky chuckle that made me go all warm, and I'd been thinking on her when he spoke. "Touch tell you that?" I snapped.

  He looked at me, hurt. "Plain as day, Dec. Everybody knows it. Not just me."

  I felt bad, shooting my mouth off. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Sore subject."

  He smiled brightly. "You're in luck. She's sweet on you."

  "Everybody know that too?" I sputtered.

  "Nope." He shook his head. "But she is. I can tell."

  I thought of the cold bed I was heading to. "Sure has a funny way of showing it."

  Paddy held onto his words for a moment like he wondered if he should let them out. "I get the notion she's waiting on you to grow up a little," he finally said.

  "Away with that!" I stamped my foot. "I'm more than man enough to please her. I'm two years older, easy."

  "I mean like 'taking on a steady trade' man enough," Paddy explained. "Don't think she cares exact which. It's ballast she's concerned with. To know you can keep an even keel."

  That ruffled my feathers even more. Family land was sold when my parents died, and I couldn't see myself steaming slats at the cooperage or heaving bellows for the town smith. Same as Paddy didn't dwell on the past, I'd stopped giving mind to the future several years back.

  Still, hope flickered in me. "You're on the level?" I asked.

  "Sure as sure."

  I confess my heart skipped. I promised myself I'd call on her the next day, after Fade paid up. Have a sit-down and little chat. In that moment, the future seemed something worth considering.

  Paddy and I was at the edge of town, working on a new verse for the boat song, when we saw Fade's place.

  It was lit up bright as a Christmas hooley, windows blazing like every lamp the fat man owned was at full wick.

  "Fade's working late," I smirked. "Must be milkin’nickels for extra pennies." The dark shape of a figure moved inside. I started for the door. "Bet he's got our other half now."

  I turned to grin at Paddy and found him rooted in place, middle of the road, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was staring at Fade’s.

  My hackles rose. I started to speak. "What's the ma—?"

  Then a scream, wild, deep and gurgly. Like a horse being slaughtered.

  It came from inside.

  Fear sobered me faster than a bucket of ice. I spun around and peered at the shop windows. The moving inside had stopped.

  I'd be lying if I didn't say part of me wanted to run like smoke and oakum. The stubborn part of me won out though. Blame curiosity, blame greed. Teagan says it was destiny.

  I crept toward the door.

  I struck new deals with myself every step. I'll knock twice, I said. If he answers, then all is well. If he's ready with our money now, fine. If not, tomorrow will come soon enough. If it's locked, I'll be on my merry. I'll knock once...

  I rapped a knuckle on the oak. The door creaked open an inch. Unlocked, unlatched.

  Shite, shite, shite, shite...

  I pushed the door further. "Mr. Fade?"

  Silence.

  "Evening, Mr. Fade. You in here?" Save a pair of lanterns in the back, the room was dark. No sign of a fire, candles, nothing. The bright light had been snuffed like a match.

  I tiptoed over the threshold, goose-fleshed head to toe. "It's me, Declan Flood."

  I grabbed a coal poke from a bin of rusty tools and gripped it two-handed like a club. Nothing appeared out of sorts from that morning, but the air was thick with jitters. I felt someone else's footsteps, the sense I'd catch 'em slinking into the shadows out of the corner of my eye.

  The back of my neck tingled with spiders but I took another step. "Alrighty then," I yelled. "Whoever's in here come out now or I'll brain you to next Sunday." Bravest words I could conjure.

  Fade was in his usual spot, slumped back, mouth open wide. I listened for a snore I half knew wasn't coming.

  If it was thieves, were they still about? Crouched behind the counter, waiting to spring up and throttle me? "Stop your sneaking, whoever you are. I'm armed and you're getting me downright wrathful."

  Coal poke cocked, I crept around the end and rounded on the old man's seat. His coins were stacked in neat little ranks like soldiers. The glass curio case was undisturbed. I hoped to hear Fade's breathing, but all I got was the thrum of my own heart hammering in my ears.

  Meechum Fade was deader than a bag of rocks.

  Against my smarter half, I dared a look at his face. Terror is what it read.

  Mouth open, wide-eyed, bowel-clenching terror. Like Fade had glimpsed Old Nick himself. It froze my blood.

  Right then, Paddy's voice rang out behind me. "Look!"

  I spun and swung, missing him by a hair.

  "Jesus Almighty!" I shouted. "Near jumped out of my skin, you twit!" I was all prickly fear there'd be a grinning skull or some toady demon, squatting in the corner all venomous and malefic.

  He ignored me, pointing down. "He's got feet!"

  "Fook me, " I sighed, and set the coal poke down.

  After my heart stopped racing, Paddy leaned toward Fade. "Funny—"

  "No, it wasn't." I said. "Pranking around the dead must be some brand of blasphemy."

  Paddy wasn't listening. "He opened the locket."

  Indeed, Meechum Fade was clutching the locket— our locket. And the lid was up, the strange script coiling like a snake.

  I lifted it quiet as a whisper out of Fade's meaty palm and peered down at that face yet again.

  She was as lovely as I remembered; dark hair, full mouth, face like a sleeping angel. But something had changed.

  She was smiling.

  Part Two - Beneath the Rowan Trees

  I heard her in the wee hours.

  F
aint it was, a lament tattered in the wind. A lost bird crying for summer.

  A name.

  She was weeping over a name.

  I creaked down the stairs one at a time and stepped out into the yard.

  The moon had dropped in the west. It was deep night; those dark hours when only dreams and the eyes of God roam the earth. The sky was salted with stars, winking vast and distant, drawing everything around me in black shapes and stiff shadows.

  The wind caressed my face, wet and warm after the storm, like a horse's breath. Heavy and familiar. I smelled grass in the meadow, the clean snap of the river, earthy loam from the woods where she called.

  The moon peeked through a scrap of low clouds, so I set out east across the silver rippled fields, toward the heavy green budding over trunks straight and tall as a thicket of spears, to the woods where we found the locket. To that voice.

  Seemed like no time I parted the brush, plunged in. The rustle of leaves underfoot.

  Her voice was louder. Drawing me onward.

  I didn't remember the creek but suddenly my feet were wet. I considered kicking my boots off to dry like at Teagans... and there she was: a pale moth flitting in the timber. A dark haired beauty in a white dress, weeping as she hurried deeper into the woods.

  I heard the name clear: Airam. The king's name.

  "Airam, my only, my love, my prince. Where are you?"

  She stops among the trees. Her back to me, raven tresses tumbling, hands clenched in pretty little knots at her side... She tilts her head back and forth as she searches, but doesn't look my way because I'm not the one she seeks, her love, her only.

  No one is there to comfort her, and her voice breaks with heartache. I want to be that one. To see those eyes open, have them to look for me. To fall into them...

  She runs. Runs toward that little hill.

  I'm after her. Branches snapping, whipping my face and arms. I'm bleeding from a dozen scratches but I don't care; she's crying again and every tear is a blow to my chest. My heart cracks.

  Anything to ease her pain, dry those tears. "I'm here," I want to say. "I'll be your only, your love."

  She runs on, but I'm faster. Every step a step closer.

  Suddenly she's in a copse of trees, sobbing in a pool of moonlight. Her shoulders shudder like the sorrow of the world is pouring out of her. Out of her, into my bones, under my skin, into my heart... I'm in her agony, looking through tears to God, to the vast and distant stars, the bile of her loss on my tongue, and I see now... see now we're under the rowan trees.