The Heart of Darkness

by Odelia Floris

  There was nothing for it.

  She stepped forward. ‘I will go.’

  ‘Excellent. Who else is willing?’

  Mary stepped forward. ‘I also will go.’

  But when he turned to the twins, the sight was more concerning. Isolda was sitting on the steps crying while her sister tried to comfort her.

  ‘Celestria?’ he prompted urgently.

  Celestria shook her head. ‘Isolda says she can’t do it, and I am not leaving her. I’m sorry; we will have to take our chances with our captors.’

  ‘Perhaps if you go first they may be more willing to follow?’ Rowena suggested quietly to Sir Richard.

  But he shook his head firmly. ‘If I do that and they still will not jump, there will be nothing I can do.’

  ‘But if they refuse to jump you cannot do anything anyway.’

  He smiled grimly. ‘Yes I can; I can throw them over.’ And with that he turned to Mary, who stood at the edge, her chin defiantly tilted up in a firm determination not to look down at the boiling waters below. ‘Brave girl, but you need to get that heavy gown off,’ he said to her matter-of-factly.

  Without saying a word, Mary undid her heavy woollen dress and cast it off, revealing a light, sleeveless shift.

  He frowned at the long skirt of Mary’s under-dress. ‘Do you mind if I make a slight alteration to your garment?’ he asked, unsheathing his dagger.

  With her eyes still fixed on the horizon, the maiden gave a quick nod.

  Sir Richard took hold of her skirt just above the knees and slit a hole in it with his dagger, then tore it all the way around until it fell away. ‘That’s better.’ He looked down over the edge. ‘Gallagher,’ he shouted down, ‘the first one’s coming!’

  The other maidens covered their eyes or looked away in horror, waiting for the splash from down below. After what seemed like an eternity, a faint, faraway splash sounded above the roar of the sea.

  ‘Has she survived?’ Isolda gasped, finally daring to peep through her fingers at Sir Richard, who crouched at the edge peering intently down.

  There was an anxious pause.

  ‘Yes, yes there she is—she’s surfaced now, thank God!’ He got to his feet looking deeply relieved. After taking a few more moments to make sure Gallagher had dragged Mary to safety, he turned away from the edge and looked to Celestria and Isolda, who was still crying quietly. ‘One of you ought to go next.’

  Celestria locked her arms around her sister and raised her sharp blue eyes defiantly. ‘Don’t look at us! We are not doing it.’

  Without saying a word, he immediately walked over to where Nimue was huddled against the wall cowering under her musty blanket. He whipped the rag off and threw it into the sea.

  The waif, dressed only in a thin, tatty slip, was a pitiful sight to behold as she trembled and whimpered. ‘No, no…’ She shook her head fearfully as she looked up at the tall knight in terror.

  He knelt down beside her and put his hands on her tiny shoulders. ‘Now listen to me, little one. You need to be brave. Do you think you can do that?’

  She sniffed miserably and studied his intently serious face in silence. Then, much to the surprise of the watching Rowena, Celestria and Isolda, the wane -faced girl slowly nodded, looking up at the knight with total faith.

  He smiled. ‘Brave girl! I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Ain’t nobody who’s ever been proud of me,’ Nimue beamed shyly.

  As the waif put her thin arms around his neck and held him tightly, Sir Richard looked over her shoulder at Isolda, seated on the steps behind. ‘Are you still sure you want to be the damsel who doomed herself and her sister to a hellish life of slavery and degradation because she was too afraid to take the leap?’

  Isolda buried her head in her hands, and did not answer.

  Celestria glared angrily at Sir Richard. ‘Can’t you see you are upsetting my poor sister?’

  Clearly biting back a hot-tempered response, he turned from the twins and looked at Nimue. ‘Come, little one, it’s time you left this vile prison.’

  The child smiled weakly and nodded.

  ‘Will you jump?’

  ‘Is there anyone at the bottom waiting to catch me?’ she asked falteringly.

  ‘Yes. My brave comrade Faithful unto Death Gallagher is waiting. He never fails.’

  ‘If he is like you, I will jump.’

  He is like me but, much, much more heroic.’

  Sir Richard had led little Nimue to the edge. There, she showed no sign of fear as she braved the buffeting gale and dizzying height. And without further ado, she jumped.

  Rowena waited with baited breath for the splash, but none came. ‘Is Nimue safe?’ she asked the tensely watching Sir Richard.

  He pushed away the hair blown into his face by the gale, and nodded. ‘She’s safe, but we are not.’ He pointed up to the sky above the battlements, which was glowing brightly and streaked with showers of orange sparks. ‘We must get off this doomed castle before it’s too late.’

  Rowena could see flames shooting above the walls overhead, and the heat of the fire was starting to reach down to where they stood. Then she thought she could hear something besides the howling of the gale and the roar of the sea. She listened carefully. It was the sound of shouting men coming from above. ‘Richard, there are men coming this way—we have to go!’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not leaving Celestria and Isolda behind.’

  ‘You two go,’ said Celestria from her seat on the steps. ‘Save yourselves and leave us!’

  Sir Richard spun around to face her, the bright glow of the flames glittering in his dark eyes. ‘And tell your father that I rescued every damsel except his own two daughters? I don’t think so! That man has been hounding me ever since you and your sister were carried off, lady. He accused me of being a lazy and incompetent sheriff and seriously questioned my honour. So I hope you will forgive me, madam, if I am not willing to accept your refusal to be rescued. I’m not returning to Chaucy without you and your sister!’

  Rowena was coming dangerously close to thinking the reluctant ladies ungrateful brats. Her eyes were running from the stinging smoke, and the sound of shouts, footsteps and clanging weapons sounded from directly overhead.

  She leaned in close to the fraught Sir Richard. ‘If I get hold of Celestria,’ she whispered, ‘and at the same time you seize Isolda, you might be able to throw her over the edge before Celestria can stop you.’

  He was tensely silent for a moment, then gave a quick nod. He waited while Rowena moved in behind Celestria and crouched down.

  He then sauntered casually up to the seated Isolda.

  She shrunk back fearfully. ‘I said, no!’

  He smiled and knelt before her on one knee. ‘Yes, I heard what you said. You are not willing to jump into the sea.’

  She relaxed a little. ‘I am glad, for I was growing tired of your bullying!’

  His smile turned slightly wolfish. ‘I must say, sweet lady, you are remarkably like your father; very strong-minded.’ And then he gave Rowena a quick nod and had Isolda by the upper arms in an iron-fisted grip before she could even think of screaming.

  At the same moment, Rowena threw her arms around Celestria and held her down with all her might. The screams of the captured Isolda were blood-curdling, but before Rowena could make out what was happening, Sir Richard and Isolda had disappeared over the edge.

  Celestria’s struggles and screams were even more violent than her sister’s. She leapt to her feet, dragging Rowena with her, and rushed to the edge. Without hesitating, Celestria dived off after her sister.

  Rowena was pulled to the edge before she could disentangle her arms from Celestria. She was so overbalanced that she teetered on the edge for a few terrifying moments before starting to fall.

  The wind whistled around her as she plummeted down. Then her body was hit by a stinging slap and plunged into dark, frigid water. Encumbered by her own saturated dress and the heavy, voluminous nun’s habit she was st
ill wearing on top, she tried desperately to surface. But to no avail.

  She felt herself being dragged deeper and deeper into the cold depths. Her lungs quickly became so starved of air she could not prevent herself taking in large gulps of salty water.

  It was better to drown than to rot in a prison cell forever. At least she had tried her hardest, and that was the greatest thing anyone could say...

  Rowena felt her life starting to slip away. Her consciousness dimmed. She was floating in a dreamy, languid state surrounded by warmth, light and colour flowing all around.

  Ah…the pain was going…earthly life was slipping away…

  .20.

  The Face of Evil

  THAT hurt. And why was someone shaking her?

  Rowena felt another stinging slap on her cheek. It had been nice where she was. Why couldn’t they just leave her be?

  She slowly became aware of a familiar sound above the muffled roar of the sea. ‘Celestria, you thankless mare, if you’ve killed Rowena I’ll never forgive you!’

  It was Sir Richard, angry and shouting. Oh dear…

  She was violently shaken again. ‘Rowena and I were going to be married, you insolent, ungrateful b—’

  She groaned.

  Large hands cupped her head instantly. ‘Rowena, don’t you dare leave me! Do you hear?’

  A wave of sickeningly salty seawater washed up her throat, bringing on a violent coughing fit.

  Sir Richard’s face swum hazily before her eyes. ‘Rowena, thank God—I thought Celestria had killed you!’

  Still splattering, she pulled herself onto her side and regurgitated a tide of seawater while firm hands steadied her.

  As consciousness dawned, she realized she was now lying on the ground high up on the cliff. The prison castle was directly opposite across the chasm, with bright flames jumping high above its blackened battlements in fiendish glee as they hungrily devoured its interior.

  Memory came flooding back. ‘Is—is everyone safe?’

  Sir Richard gathered Rowena up and pressed her to himself in a tight, watery embrace. ‘Yes, everyone is safe,’ he murmured hoarsely, gently rocking her and stroking her wet hair.

  Rowena felt so very cold. Her limbs were numb and heavy, almost death-like. But from his skin there came a faint warmth, and the beat of his heart sounded in the ear she rested on his breast. The loud, insistent rhythm of pulsing blood, of pulsing life. No, it was not time to go yet…

  The strong arms enfolding her shivering body were shaking, but not from cold. ‘Don’t ever leave me again, my love.’

  She lifted her head and was about to answer, but something over his shoulder caught her eye. On the ruins of the causeway which had once linked the castle to the Devil’s Finger stood a human figure, darkly silhouetted against the burning castle behind. He walked up to the very edge of where the causeway plunged abruptly into the sea, and stared straight at her. His long black cloak blew out behind him as the howling storm tugged at it furiously, and she almost could feel his eyes boring into her.

  ‘Sir Richard, who is that?’

  The knight turned his head to look. And an instant later he leapt to his feet like a stung lion, strode to the very end of the Devil’s Finger and stopped right at the very edge of the chasm.

  With his shirt hanging off him in ribbons and his black hair being whipped by the gale, the dark knight stared intently across at the other man. ‘De Wintore!’ he finally bellowed, above the roar of the sea far down below and the howl of the storm.

  Far out to sea, dark clouds had blotted out the stars and lightning forked across the sky. Rowena pulled herself to her feet and walked over to stand beside Sir Richard.

  He did not appear to notice her presence. He only had eyes for the dark, bat-like figure standing in front of the burning castle.

  ‘It’s you, isn’t it, de Wintore?’ he shouted again. ‘You bastard!’

  ‘Yes, it is I,’ came the sinister figure’s reply over the roaring storm, which was growing more violent by the moment. ‘How I was enjoying our little game; hearing the reports of how you were running yourself ragged looking for the kidnappers—though I had hoped you would have been lynched by an angry mob of your own people by now. It was I who hired those thugs to worry the peasants. It was I who had your old clerk bribed into being seen about with them so Chaucy folk would think the kidnappings were the doings of their own sheriff. But the Lothbury thugs proved even more stupid than Chaucy folk, killing that odious clerk of yours because the fool wanted more money. Satan’s tail, all the little fool had to do was loiter about a stinking hamlet while my thugs ruffled the locals up a bit! Those twits ruined everything by killing the fool, and they didn’t even bury him properly. But I will see you wrecked yet, Hastings!’

  The change which had come over Sir Richard was frightening. Lit by the silver moonlight and white lightning flashes, tattered shirt swirling and hair tossed wildly by the gale, he looked like a ghostly apparition which had arisen from the grave to seek its murderer.

  ‘Why won’t you just leave me be? You pagan swine!’ he shouted.

  ‘You killed my sister Morgana and destroyed the honour of the de Wintore name!’ screamed the black shape on Skull Rock. ‘I swore I would torment you until you wished you were dead, and by Satan I will! If I’d known that that nun was your lady-love, I would have cut off her head and displayed it on the castle walls so you could watch the gulls feasting on her! As long as there is breath in my body failure and dishonour will dog you, and death and misery will be the lot of anything you love!’

  The thunder clouds were creeping ever closer, lighting up the dark waters with white flashes of lightning and adding booming thunderclaps to the voice of the raging storm.

  Sir Richard shook his fist furiously and looked so desperate to get his hands around the other man’s neck that Rowena seized hold of his arm, half fearing he might try to jump across the chasm. ‘Fight me like a man!’ he bellowed.

  ‘You don’t deserve to die a hero’s death in battle!’ replied the bat-like figure. ‘I’m going to torment you until you kill yourself and lay buried outside the churchyard in a sinner’s grave like my sister, while your black soul burns in the hottest corner of hell for eternity!’

  Rowena felt deeply afraid. The sinister figure that was prepared to trade threats and insults while his castle went up in flames was terrifying. And Sir Richard had a look of total recklessness as he stood right on the precipice and glowered across with eyes that were pools of black fury glittering with the reflections of flames and the lightning forks flashing across the midnight sky.

  ‘You won’t respond to my challenge because you are a cowardly worm!’ shouted the knight. ‘The de Wintores are a family of traitorous, pagan vermin who are too frightened to crawl out of their stinking holes and fight! If you refuse to give me satisfaction I’ll hunt you down and kill you! Do you hear me? You will not be refusing to stand up and face me like a man when I’ve got my blade at your scrawny, bastard throat!’

  The dark shadow on the ruined causeway was almost hopping with rage now. ‘How dare you insult the de Wintore name!’

  ‘Talk is cheap; prove me wrong!’

  ‘I’m going to kill you, Hastings!’ came the scream from across the raging sea. ‘And when I’ve done that, I’m going to ravish your sister and that whore with you, and sell them to a heathen brothel in Turkey!’

  Sir Richard moved even closer to the cliff edge. ‘Meet me in the lists at the Shrewsbury’s tournament on St Valentine’s day! Two men will enter, only one will leave alive.’

  Rowena caught her breath in horror. ‘Richard, no!’

  ‘I am not running like a coward any longer,’ he replied quietly. ‘I bring misery on everyone around me through this. It ends now.’

  The hopping, fist-waving figure had gone still. ‘I accept your challenge, murdering dog! My sister knew the day of her death and so now can you. On Saint Valentine’s day, 1431, Sir Richard Hastings dies!’

  Rowe
na pulled his arm in a desperate attempt to turn him around to face her. ‘No, Richard; you can’t do this!’

  She might as well have been trying to pull a stone fortress around to face her. He did not move. ‘If I must die so that those I love can live, so be it.’

  ‘No, please don’t do this; I’m begging you!’

  But her useless words were swallowed by the howling storm unheeded by any human. Sir Richard’s eyes were locked onto his long-time nemesis with a fury that was deaf to any argument, reason or plea.

  * * * *

  After spending the night at the Mermaid Inn, Sir Richard, Sergeant Gallagher and the five rescued maidens were ready to leave Hamlin.

  It was early morning and the first rays of the sun were streaking the clear eastern sky. Merewen was very sad to bid her guests good-bye. She gave both of the Hartfield warriors many warm embraces, tender kisses and heartfelt good wishes for health and happiness.

  The whole town had turned out to watch them go. Many of the other citizens also stepped forward to pass onto the two Chaucy men their undying gratitude for vanquishing the hellish castle on Skull Rock. It had cast a dark shadow of evil and fear over them for many a long year.

  By the time the travellers were finally on their way, Merewen, Bessie and Monessa’s handkerchiefs were soaked with tears. They waved and called out goodbyes until the band of Chaucy folk had disappeared from sight.

  ‘Ain’t never going to forget that Sir Richard as long as I live,’ sniffed Bessie.

  ‘Aye, me neither,’ said an equally tearful Merewen. ‘He were a proper knight like you hear of in the tales of King Arthur.’

  ‘True English heroes with hearts of oak,’ agreed Monessa.

  * * * *

  The next day at noon, the houses and streets of Hamlin were empty. But the high cliffs of the Devil’s Finger thronged with people. Every one of the town’s inhabitants walked onwards to the smoking, blackened stones that had once been the castle of the Evil Ones. The heat of the flames had been such that many of the castle’s once-towering walls had cracked and collapsed into soot-covered ruins.