‘No, of course not!’ she replied, a bit too enthusiastically. ‘But why would the men say such a thing?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps they are local men with a grudge against me.’
‘Yes, they could be. How else would they even know your name?’
‘Fair point. But I really can’t think of anyone from Chaucy who could be taking these maidens.’
‘I suppose that it is likely more people would have seen these men if they were from around these parts.’
Sir Richard swung himself off Lucifer. ‘Look, I will talk to her, and tell her that I had nothing to do with these men or with the maidens being taken.’
‘Very well, but go easy on her. We don’t want to scare her or she might not talk—and for goodness sake keep that ridiculously large sword hidden under your cloak, because it really is an unnerving sight!’
‘Alright, alright,’ he muttered, annoyed by her scolding tone.
He followed his clerk up to the hovel’s open door, where Phoebe waited just outside.
‘I’ll tell you what it were we’ve seen round these parts,’ said the young peasant woman. ‘But first answer me this: if it be really so that you ain’t got nothing to do with them armed men that was here, how come your clerk was here with ’em? He said it were true that you was behind it all.’
Sir Richard took a step backwards and nearly collided with the doorframe. ‘My old clerk, Thomas, was here?’
Rowena desperately hoped Phoebe had not noticed the clang of his sword as it clashed against the door.
‘Aye, he were. And we know it were him ’cause some of the folks hereabouts ’ave seen Thomas in Hartfield and recognized him when they saw him.’
‘I can assure you, I know nothing about Thomas being here and I certainly did not send him!’
Although the raggedly-dressed woman nodded, Rowena thought she still did not seem entirely convinced by Sir Richard’s words.
‘Do you know who the armed men that were with Thomas are?’ Rowena asked.
‘No. They was rough, brutal-looking men, well-armed and all. We was much too frightened to speak to ’em, but from their voices, it were clear they ain’t from these parts.’
‘And that’s all you can tell us about them?’
Phoebe nodded again. ‘They never stayed ’ere, only passed through a few times.’
‘When was this?’
‘First time we saw ’em were about two months back. They rode through a couple of times.’
‘Was Thomas ever with them?’
‘Aye, but we ’aven’t see him ’ere for ’bout two moons. Them armed ruffians had been hanging ’bout the village for a few days before they carried Mary off. We’d seen that ratty little clerk of his,’ Phoebe glared at Sir Richard, ‘with ’em once or twice. ’E stole poor old Widow Jenkins’ rooster, just grabbed ’old of it, wrung its neck and slung it on his belt. As if we aren’t poor enough without folks stealing from us!’ She raised her eyes to heaven. ‘May the good Lord save us from such servants of Satan.’
‘Yes, I do recall Thomas bringing some dead fowl into my chamber around that time,’ said Sir Richard. ‘The heathen worm put it on the floor next to his table, where it left blood everywhere. Then I came along later and slipped in it.’ He rubbed his temple and winced. ‘Damn near knocked myself out on the edge of that table. I gave the knave a good clout round the ears next morning…’
‘Do you know what Thomas was doing in Dovers Dell, Phoebe?’ asked Rowena.
‘That clerk seemed to be coming ’ere to meet with the men, don’t know why though.’
Rowena turned to Sir Richard. ‘I think we have learned all we can here. Why don’t we take a look at the place where Mary was kidnapped? These men may have been loitering around there for a while waiting for her. They might have dropped something that could give us a clue to who they are.’
He nodded. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’
Rowena travelled the short way along the path into the forest on foot, glad of a chance to stretch her legs after the long (for her anyway) ride. Sir Richard, mounted on Lucifer, reached the site ahead of her and had already dismounted and tethered the stallion to a tree by the time she got there.
‘Right, let’s give this place a thorough going-over,’ he called to her as she came up to him. ‘You search this side of the road and I’ll search the other. Call out if you find anything.’
Rowena started her search at the edge of the overgrown road and moved out from there. The area running alongside the path was a wild tangle of blackberry, nettles, tall grasses, hawthorn and wild briar roses, able to grow there because the sunlight shone through where the trees had been cleared to make way for the road.
As Rowena got a little further from the road, she thought she could make out some impressions in the soft ground. They looked rather like the shape of a horseshoe, but with all the rain that had fallen, they were indistinct and she could not be sure if the marks really were hoof prints or just the activity of wild animals. The tracks led between the hawthorn and saplings for a short way then quickly faded when they reached a grassy clearing.
Rowena gave a huff of annoyance and stopped. ‘Oh bother,’ she said aloud. ‘I’ve bashed my way through all those brambles for naught. Look at my poor hands,’ she added in dismay, surveying her scratched, bleeding hands.
Rowena suddenly gasped. There were several tears in her dress, the largest of which extended much too high up the skirt for decency. ‘Heavens, what a pretty picture I’ll make when I get back to Stoatley! I just hope to high heaven that I can get up to my room without Aunt Cunningham seeing me…’
Then it suddenly occurred to her: if her dress got torn on the thorns of brambles and briar roses, their clothing might have got snagged too, leaving behind a scrap of material caught on a branch!
She immediately started looking around at the shrubs instead of the ground. Sure enough, there was a small scrap of rough, brown, sacking-like fabric caught on a blackberry bush just ahead of her.
She ran over to it. There, on the ground near it, were clear signs that someone had been there recently. The grass was trampled and some twigs on the surrounding trees were broken.
But a moment later Rowena gagged as the stench of rotting flesh hit her. A deer, or perhaps a wild pig, must have died nearby. She pulled her handkerchief out, and holding it over her nose, continued her search of the area.
The maiden followed the path of snapped branches deeper into the forest. But the smell only got stronger. She started to wonder if the marks had just been left by an animal, perhaps wounded by a hunter, that had crashed its way through the forest before dropping dead there.
Just when the stench was becoming unbearable and she was about to turn back, something pale on the ground under a bush caught her eye. She stooped down and took hold of it, but it was stuck. It felt hard and stiff. She could not make out what it was.
Rowena gave it another tug.
Still it would not come. She parted the undergrowth to get a better look at it. And there, staring up at her with frozen, glazed eyes, lay a pale, green-tinged corpse.
The thing she had been pulling on was the hand of the rotting body! She instantly snatched her hand back and screamed in horror.
‘Rowena, what is it?’ Sir Richard’s cry reached her from back near the road.
But she was so shocked by the unexpected and grisly sight that she barely heard him.
‘Rowena, are you alright?’ he shouted again.
This time his voice was nearer, and she could hear him coming crashing towards her through the thick undergrowth.
Desperately trying to erase the image of the horrid, rotting face with its staring eyes from her mind, she leaned against a nearby tree and covered her face with a shaking hand—the hand she did not use to pull at the corpse.
A few moments later Sir Richard burst into the clearing, drawn sword in hand. ‘What’s wrong?’ He quickly scanned the area for danger, ready to strike down any enemies in an
instant.
‘The most horrible, horrible thing, the grisliest thing I have ever set eyes on…’ Words failed her, so she just pointed weakly at the thicket where the body lay.
‘You found something in there?’ Sir Richard walked over to the spot and parted the branches with his sword.
Rowena nodded, quickly covering her face again and turning away. She did not want to risk catching another glimpse of it.
‘Good God,’ cried the sheriff, ‘it’s that slimy knave, Thomas!’
She turned back in surprise. ‘Thomas?’
‘Yes, it’s him all right. It explains why no one has seen him for four weeks. Looks like he’s been dead about that long,’ he said matter-of-factly, giving the corpse a poke with the toe of his boot, as if to satisfy himself that it was real.
But this was too much for Rowena. She felt a wave of nausea washing over her. ‘Oh Lord,’ she gasped to Sir Richard, who had come back over, ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
He rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed at the sight of the rotting body himself and unable to see what all the fuss was about.
She swiftly clapped her hand over her mouth to give herself time to duck behind the tree she was standing under, where she was violently sick.
To her relief, his relaxed attitude in the face of unsavoury experiences also seemed to extend to ladies throwing up. He barely paid any attention, simply continuing the conversation. ‘I wonder what he was doing out on this remote road.’ He casually leaned an arm against the tree. ‘Have you got any ideas?’
‘Argh,’ she shuddered. ‘Have you got a water flask with you? My mouth tastes foul.’
‘Yes, but it is in Lucifer’s saddle bag,’ he replied absent-mindedly, walking back over to the thicket where the corpse lay. ‘I think I might just pull him out so we can get a better look…’
She was a little surprised by his unchivalrous attitude in the face of feminine distress. Most men would have been only too glad of such an opportunity to show how strong and manly they were by enthusiastically comforting the stricken female.
‘Is it too much to ask you to tear your attention away from that stinking corpse just for one moment and get me a drink of water?’
He seized the body by the feet and started pulling it out. ‘God’s bones, it’s only a dead body! I’ve seen hundreds of the damn things when I was fighting in France.’
‘Well, I haven’t!’
‘Never mind, you’ll soon get used to it. The bastard can’t do us any more harm now that he’s dead.’
Holding her handkerchief firmly over her nose, Rowena moved as far away from the corpse as she could without going back into the brambles that surrounded them.
In the meantime, Sir Richard had started going through the dead Thomas’ clothing, searching for anything in his pockets.
‘No, there’s nothing here,’ he announced shortly, getting back to his feet. ‘The killers most likely took anything he had on him.’
Having recovered somewhat from the initial shock, Rowena managed to look at the corpse again, although only from a safe distance, and only from out of the corner of her eye. ‘Can you tell how he was killed?’
‘Yes, by a single sword-thrust through the heart. It doesn’t look like he put up much of a fight; there’s no sign of any other wounds on him.’
‘Do you think he knew his killer?’
‘Very likely. His killer would have to be standing right in front of him to deliver a cut like this.’
The sickly, cloying smell of rotting flesh hung heavily in the air despite Rowena’s best attempts to block it out. Another wave of nausea threatened to engulf her. ‘Can we go back now?’ she asked weakly.
‘Before we go, we ought to have a look on the ground around here in case the murderer dropped anything.’
She spat out the sour saliva that filled her mouth. ‘Alright—but let’s make it quick, because I cannot take much more of this.’
‘Don’t be such a damn goose.’
They began a careful search of the area, she making sure to keep a good distance from the corpse. After only a few moments, Sir Richard held up something small and shiny.
She ran over. ‘What is it?’
‘Looks like some sort of brooch,’ he replied, passing it to her.
The object was fairly large for a brooch; perhaps the type of thing a man might use to pin his cloak together. It was made of iron, and engraved on the top side was a strange symbol.
She could not make out what it was beneath the dirt caked onto it, so tapped it against a nearby log to dislodge it and then blew away the last of the dust. Revealed was an image of a fierce bat with outstretched wings, and it beneath a human skull.
She passed the object back to Sir Richard. ‘Do you think it might be some sort of heraldic crest?’
‘It could well be.’
‘Have you ever seen this emblem before?’
He frowned at the brooch. ‘I saw a great many coats of arms during my time fighting in France, but not this one.’
‘We can show it to the soldiers at the castle; perhaps one of them will recognize it.’
‘Yes, that is worth trying. Also, this road we are on leads to the town of Stonehaven, in the neighbouring shire. I shall ride over there as soon as I can and talk to the sheriff there. These villains might have passed through.’
.6.
Surprises from Demons, Angels and Unknowns
IT HAD been raining heavily for the past hour, and Rowena was completely soaked. After the ordeal of the trip to Dovers Dell, all she could think about was getting her heavy, sodden dress off. Sir Richard had dropped her off at the bottom of the hill so she could stretch her stiff muscles, aching from long hours spent in the saddle, by walking the short distance on foot. Now that she had reached the crest of the hill, Stoatley Manor was in view below.
As Rowena neared the manor’s entrance, she broke into a jog. Desperate to get out of the rain, the young woman decided to go in through the front door. She usually entered through the back door because only the servants used it, meaning that she would not meet the Cunninghams.
She hastily pushed the big door open, burst in, slammed it shut and turned towards the stairs, but then stopped dead in her tracks. The entire Cunningham family stood staring at her, speechless with horror.
There were several moments of deafening silence, then a voice came from her right. ‘What on earth is that thing?’
She turned towards the sound. Standing beside her aunt was a tall, thin man of about forty, dressed in the most outrageous manner. His black and yellow doublet had sleeves so long that they brushed the ground even though he was holding his hands to his waist. His hose had one red leg and one purple leg, and were accessorized by a very large, elaborate codpiece. When she turned her astonished gaze to his feet, she almost laughed out loud. His yellow leather shoes had toes so long that they looked as though he would hardly be able to walk in them.
She had never seen him before—then Rowena remembered: Lord Shrewsbury. The Cunninghams had been expecting a visitor, Lady Cunningham’s distant cousin, Lord Shrewsbury!
So that was what Mistress Pedley had been trying to remind her about when she left that morning. Her aunt and Lady Sabina had been talking about almost nothing else for the past few weeks. And today was the day he was supposed to arrive.
Rowena suddenly realized what a sight she must look. Her pale-coloured dress was splashed with mud and torn—she quickly snatched the gaping hole in her skirt together. Furthermore, her hair was a wet tangle and her arms and face were covered in bramble scratches.
Rowena’s aunt looked truly mortified by her sudden entrance and seemed unable to decide what to do. ‘This is—’ Lady Cunningham finally began, but was interrupted by Lord Shrewsbury.
‘This is a filthy beggar-girl who should not have the insolence to come trespassing on your land. Be off with you!’ He waved a long, thin-fingered hand at Rowena. ‘Shoo, go on!’
Out of the corner of her eye, Ro
wena noticed Lady Cunningham covering her face with her hand in mortification.
She took no notice. ‘I am Lady Cunningham’s niece, Rowena Walden.’
Lord Shrewsbury gave his head an arch toss. ‘Not just filthy but mad too, by God!’
Lady Cunningham looked even more tense and thin-lipped than usual. ‘My lord, I regret to inform you that she is indeed my niece.’
‘This ragged waif is your niece? My dear lady, surely you jest!’
Lady Cunningham sighed resignedly. ‘No, I am afraid it is true. She is my sister’s daughter.’
The gaudily dressed lord looked back at Rowena and gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘Your niece? I can barely comprehend that such an elegant and noble lady as you could possibly be related to a thing like that.’
‘It shames me to tell you that my sister made a very unwise marriage. This young lady’s father was a very lowly-born man.’
Lord Shrewsbury looked disdainfully down his long, thin nose at Rowena. ‘So I see.’
Even though she had only been in his company a short while, his affected falsetto voice was already beginning to grate.
Lady Cunningham wagged a finger. ‘Breeding always shows through in the end, always. Vermin begets vermin.’
‘Don’t talk about him like that!’ cried Rowena. ‘I’m not ashamed of my father. He might not have been of noble birth, but he was a kind, honest man and I loved him!’
Lady Cunningham caught her breath with a hiss. ‘I will have none of your nonsense, thank you. You are wrong and I am right and that is an end to it!’
Too tired to argue with her aunt, Rowena decided she had had enough trouble for one day. She lifted the muddy, dripping hem of her gown and started walking towards the stairs without another word or glance at the horrified gathering.
* * * *
‘Rowena, kindly carry that jug of wine over with you,’ Lady Cunningham ordered her niece.
‘Do I have to go and sit with them? I need to go over to the castle soon, and would much rather just take a little bread and cheese to eat while I walk there.’
The Heart of Darkness Page 8