The Heart of Darkness

by Odelia Floris

  ‘A gift?’ she gasped.

  He chuckled caustically. ‘I’m sure he will be delighted when he receives one of your fingers tomorrow morning. I would love to see his face when he opens the package!’ He erupted into a wild cackle that ended in a coughing fit. ‘I’m sure,’ he continued once the fit had subsided, ‘that he will not be late with his payment again.’

  Rowena caught the flash of cold steel in her captor’s large, bony hand. He had finally freed his dagger and was clutching it tightly.

  She jerked frantically back. ‘No, let me go!’

  He grasped her cloak’s collar and used it as a ligature, drawing it tight about his victim’s neck. Then he thrust his face in hers and breathed his foully reeking breath down on her. ‘Now,’ he hissed, ‘which one would you like me to cut off?’ He ended with another wild cackle.

  She stared back at him, held in an almost trance-like state by the glint of the moon’s reflection in his hard, cold eyes.

  So this was where it had ended up. Sir Richard might not want to face the consequences of standing up to his blackmailer, but he was not the one being set upon and mutilated by some wheezing, crazed sadist with breath like a cesspit. It really was unfair. She had never wanted to go near Sir Richard. It was all Lady Sabina’s doing. She had been weak, and Lady Sabina had played her like a fiddle. How Lady Sabina would laugh when she saw Rowena with a finger missing! Only criminals and soldiers had missing fingers. Rowena could hear Lady Sabina’s taunts already.

  ‘No!’ she screamed suddenly, and with lightning-quick speed punched him in the throat.

  The hard, glinting eyes bulged and flickered back at her in shock for a moment. He had clearly thought his victim had given up and resigned herself to her fate. He emitted a choking croak and scrabbled at his throat with a sinewy paw.

  Seizing the chance, she grabbed a fist-sized stone lying nearby and hit him in the eye with it. The iron-like hand loosened its grip on her arm. She jerked free, scrambled to her feet and broke into a run.

  This time, she did not look back. With her body near the limit of its endurance, she felt sick and delirious. The world was spinning around her and she hardly knew where she was going. The only thing she could think of was keeping running until she reached safety.

  The relief that washed over her as she finally stumbled in through the castle gates was immense. Most of the men had gone back to their quarters by now. Just a small night-watch was still on duty. But it was still only ten O’clock. Many of the men were eating, drinking, and judging by the noise coming from within the brightly lit castle, talking.

  The moonlit courtyard was empty save for two large hounds sitting near the armoury door. Seeing the woman enter, they leapt to their feet and began barking excitedly. Noticing the light coming from the armoury’s open doorway, she headed towards it.

  ‘Donner, Wilf, shut up!’ came Sir Richard’s shout from inside the armoury.

  The two huge wolfhounds took no heed of their master and carried on barking.

  ‘Shut up, you mongrels!’

  The barking continued.

  ‘Go and see what all the damn fuss is about, Gallagher. The daft mutts have probably just seen a rat again, but you never know,’ Sir Richard grumbled.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ answered the sergeant.

  The doorway darkened as Gallagher passed through. ‘Rowena, is that you?’

  She staggered on her feet, so exhausted she could barely stand.

  ‘Sir Richard, come quickly!’ called Gallagher.

  Sir Richard was beside her in an instant. ‘Rowena, what the hell happened?’

  Rowena’s vision swam as she reeled for a moment before starting to fall.

  He seized her by the arms and pulled her upright. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Still gasping for breath, she could not speak, only managing to shake her head in reply.

  Sir Richard kept a tight grip on her arm. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Evil in the forest—it was so horrible—I thought the vile thing was going to kill me!’

  ‘Did you get attacked?’

  She nodded. ‘A man—in the forest—he—he—’

  ‘Take your time, madam,’ Gallagher said soothingly. ‘Take as long as you need.’

  ‘Through if we are to have any chance of catching this villain, you might not want to be too long about it,’ Sir Richard added grimly.

  ‘Perhaps we ought to go inside?’ suggested Gallagher.

  Still gasping hard, she nodded and gratefully mopped her hot face with the corner of her cloak.

  Once through the armoury door, she had to shade her eyes for a moment while they adjusted to the brightness inside. The light of the two candles burning on a table in the centre of the room was greatly magnified by all the shining, brightly polished steel armour and weapons it bounced off.

  The sergeant motioned to a long bench against the wall, underneath a row of hanging swords and daggers. ‘Have a seat.’

  Rowena collapsed onto the bench immediately, and once she was comfortably settled, began to feel a little better.

  Sir Richard sat down next to her. ‘Tell us about this villain in the forest.’

  Gallagher handed her a goblet of water and took a seat on the other side of her.

  ‘I was on my way home when, as I was passing through the woods, this lurking thing came out and—and—’

  The sergeant gave her a reassuring smile. ‘You are doing very well, madam.’

  Sir Richard pushed his hair back. ‘Yes, keep going.’

  She managed to tell the two men the story of her terrifying meeting in the dark forest without having to stop again, finishing by saying, ‘He told me that he was going to cut off one of my fingers and send it to you, Sir Richard, the next day.’ She fixed a fierce glare on the sheriff. ‘He said that you would not be late with your payments to him again.’

  Sergeant Gallagher and Sir Richard exchanged glances. Sir Richard’s was one of horror, but the sergeant’s seemed to say I told you so.

  It suddenly dawned on Rowena: Sergeant Gallagher knew who the blackmailer was! How could she have been so stupid? He and Sir Richard went way back—the sergeant probably knew all of Sir Richard’s secrets. All this time she had been trying in vain to get him to tell her who it was when she could have asked Gallagher. What a fool to have believed that no one else knew the sheriff was being blackmailed and refrain from questioning anyone else about it for fear of betraying his secret!

  ‘I’m sorry for being so frazzled earlier,’ said Rowena. ‘You hardened warriors must think me such a fool.’

  ‘Not at all, madam,’ said Gallagher.

  Sir Richard cleared his throat. ‘Well, you could have been a bit less—’

  Gallagher darted a warning glance at him.

  ‘No, no, it is fine. Do not concern yourself about it,’ the sheriff finished, earning an approving nod from his sergeant.

  She looked at Sir Richard. ‘I take it that the vile thug who attacked me was talking about the blackmail demands?’

  Sir Richard looked away uncomfortably. ‘Yes. I used up the last money I had paying that unexpected tax demand from the king. I had nothing left when the usual payment date came round. You were not here, so I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘So you just didn’t pay?’

  He nodded. ‘But I did warn him that I would be late with it, and assured him that I would pay as soon as I had the money.’

  The look Rowena rested on Sir Richard turned accusing. ‘The man in the forest, he looked a lot like the description the girl at Dovers Dell gave of the men who kidnapped her friend. He was wearing a long black cloak and had a cloth tied around his face.’

  Sir Richard jumped to his feet. ‘You charge me with having some secret knowledge of this?’

  ‘There is little doubt in my mind that they must be linked,’ she retorted. ‘You can hardly claim that it’s none of my business who’s blackmailing you now, as they appear to have designs not only on your money, but also o
n my fingers. I don’t know about you, but I am rather fond of my fingers,’ she stamped her foot, ‘and would really hate to lose any!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sir Richard muttered, sitting back down. ‘You are right, it is your business. When I was fighting in France I did something I should not have—’

  ‘You are right there…’ Gallagher mumbled under his breath.

  Sir Richard shot his sergeant a black look before continuing. ‘This blackmailer got hold of some letters. And this incriminating evidence—if certain people saw it I would be in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Even more trouble than you are currently in?’

  He nodded grimly. ‘I’d lose my head on the executioner’s block for sure.’

  ‘What did you do that is so terrible?’

  ‘It’s really not important,’ he answered irritably, shifting in his seat.

  She knew from experience that it would be no use pressing him. ‘Alright, don’t tell me then. But do you know if there might be a link between the blackmailer and the kidnappers?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘So how come the same man appears to be working for your blackmailer and the kidnappers?’

  ‘The man in the forest might have just been an assassin for hire who would do anyone’s evil deeds for a fee,’ suggested Gallagher.

  ‘That would explain it,’ agreed Sir Richard.

  ‘You still have not told me who this blackmailer is. Sir Richard, I demand to know!’

  The sheriff ran his fingers nervously through his hair. ‘I really don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to know that… The villain said I was on no account to tell anyone about it.’

  ‘As God is God, I swear that I will not tell a living soul anything you tell me!’

  ‘But I would be putting you in an impossible situation if I told you.’

  ‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’

  ‘I really think you ought to tell her, sir,’ urged Gallagher, a hint of impatience creeping into his normally unshakably calm exterior. ‘We can depend on her loyalty, of that I am sure.’

  Still Sir Richard hesitated.

  ‘Sir, with all due respect, you have to tell her.’

  The sheriff shook his head and said nothing.

  Then Gallagher turned to Rowena. ‘The blackmailer is your uncle, Lord Cunningham.’

  ‘My uncle!’ She could hardly believe her ears.

  Sir Richard covered his face with his hands and groaned.

  ‘Aye,’ said Gallagher, ‘your uncle.’

  ‘He went and hired some low-life villain to go and mutilate his own niece, just so he could ring a bit more money out of someone!’ she fumed, leaping up and starting to pace up and down the room. ‘The rotten, rotten swine!’

  ‘I knew that this would be the result if I told her who it was,’ Sir Richard growled at Gallagher. ‘How can you expect someone to know something like that and not confront the knave with it?’

  ‘Not everyone is like you, sir,’ answered the sergeant. ‘Some people do have a little self-control.’

  ‘You can count on me not going to Lord Cunningham with this, I assure you, Sir Richard,’ she said, calming down a little.

  ‘Thank God for that!’ muttered Sir Richard. ‘If his lordship found out I’d told you about it, he would be furious—probably increase the demands twofold.’

  Rowena stopped in front of the sheriff and his sergeant. ‘Do you know where he keeps these incriminating letters?’

  ‘Not for sure,’ said Sir Richard, ‘but most likely they are somewhere in his rooms at Stoatley, locked in an iron strongbox.’

  She rubbed her hands together thoughtfully, a plan beginning to take shape in her mind. ‘So if you managed to get back those letters, he would have nothing to blackmail you with?’

  Sir Richard nodded, but his brow was furrowed with concern. ‘You’re not thinking of doing anything foolhardy, are you?’

  ‘No, certainly not…’ she replied absent-mindedly, staring into the distance.

  * * * *

  Sitting on a low-hanging willow branch dangling her bare feet in the deliciously cool water below, Rowena’s troubles seemed so far away. ‘I think I shall reward myself with a nice cool dip when we have finished washing all these clothes,’ she murmured thoughtfully.

  Seated on the grassy bank nearby, Becky took a large bite out of her apple. ‘Good idea. I could do with a cool-off too.’

  ‘How soon these long, hazy summer days do pass…’ sighed Rowena, gazing down contemplatively at the russet leaves floating lazily on the pool’s calm surface.

  ‘Aye, before you know it we’ll be warming our numb fingers in front of smoking fires and wrapping up in our thickest shawls every time we step outside into the autumn mists and buffeting winds.’

  ‘True, but I do love the autumn anyway. The way the forest blazes with colour is always a delight, and I still can’t resist kicking up the fallen leaves when walking in the woods!’

  ‘You are right; Mother Nature’s autumn garments are indeed lovely.’ Having finished her apple, Becky got up and started hanging the newly-washed clothes over the hawthorn bushes crowding the riverbank. ‘Still, it’s much harder to get your washing dry than on hot summer days like this.’

  Rowena studied the rippling reflection dancing on the water’s surface. The young woman looking up at her had laughing green eyes, a wide smile, a rounded face with a snub nose, and a tightly-curling mass of red hair that tumbled past rounded shoulders, while a few tendrils fell over pixyish ears. The dancing green eyes and long, exuberant mane met with approval, but the other features less so. The rounded face was felt to be chubby and lacking elegance, and as for the snub nose, it was deemed positively babyish.

  ‘You know, I can hardly believe Sir Richard asked me to be his lady. Part of me still thinks he was only jesting about being my knight,’ sighed the snub nose’s disappointed owner.

  ‘It sounded genuine enough from what you told me,’ her friend replied.

  ‘Yes, but I bear very little resemblance to Guinevere and the other ladies in the legends. They are always tall, willowy and perfectly poised, whereas I have about as much poise and elegance as a—well, I can’t really think of anything that’s as bumbling as me just off the top of my head. Why on earth would any knight want me to be his lady? I really am more likely to make a knight die laughing than inspire him to do heroic deeds in my honour.’

  Becky could not help laughing at Rowena’s deadpan expression as she delivered this glum verdict. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself! You’re a kind-hearted and loyal woman. That’s the only thing that really matters.’

  Rowena splashed her foot in the water and studied the resulting waves across her reflection gravely. ‘I wager Sir Lancelot would not have been so in love with Queen Guinevere if she had not been so beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, and think how much better things would have turned out for everyone then,’ said Becky, who could always be relied on where being practical was concerned.

  ‘I suppose so…’

  What does Princess Sabina think of your new status?’

  ‘She doesn’t know—though I’m sure she will not fail to notice that he is wearing my green swan pendant next time she sees him. I was hoping he would wear it tucked inside his shirt; but no, he insists on wearing it on top for all to see.’

  Becky took the last basket of unwashed clothes and put it down on a boulder at the water’s edge. ‘Aren’t you going to lend me a hand?’

  ‘Oh sorry,’ said Rowena, sliding off her perch and wading over.

  Becky vigorously wrung out the shirt she had just washed. ‘Why don’t you want anyone to see that Sir Richard is wearing your pendant? For myself, he has gone up greatly in my esteem since I heard that he liked you so much.’

  ‘But the Cunninghams will make such a fuss when they find out.’ Rowena picked up the wooden cloth-beating paddle. ‘I hate fuss. Lady Sabina will go green with envy, beyond a shadow of a doubt. My cousin cannot bear i
t if anyone has something she doesn’t. As far as I know, no knight has ever asked her to be his lady-love.’

  ‘Don’t be bothering yourself about her silliness. If she wants to get all eaten up with jealousy, just leave her to get on with it.’

  Rowena splashed some water over the sheet and started beating it half-heartedly with the paddle. ‘I suppose you are right. They might be finding out sooner than I thought, though. The Cunninghams are having a gathering this evening; apparently they have an announcement to make. I really can’t think what it might be. Anyway, all the local luminaries are invited, including Sir Richard.’

  The blonde woman looked up from her work. ‘I thought he never went to high society gatherings because he couldn’t stand them.’

  ‘No, normally he doesn’t go. But this time, he said he would come.’

  Becky stood up and slowly straightened her back. ‘Goodness me, crouching by the river like this really is hard on the old back and knees.’ She picked up the basket, resting it against her hip as she carried it over to where the other clothes were spread out in the bright sunshine to dry.

  Rowena followed her over and started helping her drape the wet garments over the bushes. ‘I’m not sure why he is planning to come. I must say, his manner when I passed on Lady Cunningham’s invitation seemed a little shifty. Perhaps he has an ulterior motive in accepting the invitation…’

  * * * *

  Rowena stopped in front of the mirror at the top of the stairs and paused to check her reflection.

  She carefully tucked a stray red lock back into one of the two sections of hair from above her ears which she had plaited and fastened together with a gold cord at the back of her head.

  Once she had adjusted one of the flowers woven into the braid, she stepped back for a final look. Her best gown did not look too bad. There had been few occasions to wear it, so it was still quite tidy despite its age. And the posy of flowers she had pinned on the bust was doing a good job of hiding the stain from that time Cousin Sabina had spilled wine over her at the midsummer dance. It seemed a little tighter than it did last time she wore it, though. Better keep that sweet tooth under control and keep fingers out of honey pot…