Heartbeat of the Moon

by Jennifer Taylor

  Both girls reddened, and Martha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Maggie. They just repeat what they hear, the little chits. Please don’t concern yourself with the talk, old friend. There’s always jaw-wagging about one thing or another. I will box those girls’ ears when I get them home, for they’re old enough to know better.”

  Unease cramped Maggie’s stomach as they climbed the steps to the chapel. When they found their seat in the polished wooden pew, there was no shortage of looks aimed in their direction, some curious, some blatantly malicious.

  Ian whispered, “I’m sorry to have caused you embarrassment, Maggie. It is never my intention.”

  “Yes, but somehow you always manage to do it. First, the wagon…”

  Vicar Andrews appeared and the service began.

  Maggie leaned into Ian, her agitation momentarily forgotten with the solid feel of his hand tucked in her arm, and the peace of the ritual helping to calm her anxiety.

  As was his habit, the vicar surveyed his congregation, casting his eye on each one present.

  “My good people, Christ entreated us to not react with fear, but with understanding, even to those who have transgressed and are lost. Fear has invaded our town, and we must ask for God’s assistance. Let us pray.”

  As they knelt, the familiar peace of tradition swept over her upon hearing Vicar’s gentle, yet commanding voice.

  They rose from prayer, and Vicar began his sermon.

  The silence shattered upon a scratching at the door.

  A man screamed, hoarse and guttural, “Help me! Help me, God!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The door swung open, and a ragged figure covered in blood staggered into the church. “Help me!”

  Bloodshot eyes burned through the black hair fallen in its face. The figure swung its head around, teeth bared. Sweet Jesus. Josef.

  “Help me.” He tried to swallow but choked, saliva dripping from his mouth. He clutched his throat. “Please, Ian.” He held raw, blood-soaked hands out to him.

  Ian reached him before the rising congregation. “We will help you.”

  “Kill me, friend.”

  Ian clutched his blood-spattered coat. “No, Josef. Come with me.”

  With colossal strength, Josef shook Ian off. “Not human.”

  Maggie cried out, “Josef!”

  Josef jerked in spasms and collapsed to the floor, teeth bared.

  At first, Ian had not been aware of the onlookers forming a circle around his friend, the men in front with fists out, some holding knives. The women hid their children in their cloaks. The chorus of alarm and panic pounded in Ian’s ears like drums of war.

  “Look at how he shakes. The devil’s inside him.”

  “He is sick.” Ian stood in front of him.

  “He is a monster. He is possessed.”

  “No, leave him. Retreat and give him room. He came to us for help.” Ian spoke with all the authority he could muster.

  “Get yourselves away from here.” Maggie herded the women and children to the back of the church.

  Josef stared, eyes black and luminous.

  Ignoring the clamor of the crowd, Ian asked. “Josef, what happened?”

  Josef struggled to swallow. Sweat poured from his face, mixing with blood and pooling on the stone floor around him. His feet were bare and bloody, and blue with cold. “He came to me. My nephew. As a beast, not a man.” His chest rose and fell as he gasped for air.

  “Be still, Josef.” They would kill him right here if he did not cease.

  “No, it is true.”

  The crowd gasped, and Josef seized, head lifting off the floor, teeth bared, hands contracted into claws.

  “We must kill him, before he spreads his evil!” As one, the men approached.

  The vicar fought his way through the crowd. “No. There will be no weapons drawn in God’s house.”

  Henry stood with Ian, his son beside him, confusion marring his handsome face.

  “Good people. You know this good man is not of the devil.”

  Sounds of dissension echoed around the high rafters.

  “I know I am but a humble night soil man,” Henry continued. “But under the laws of man and God, the devil cannot come into our sanctuary. You know it is so. Is that not right, Vicar?”

  Vicar straightened to his full height and made his way through the crowd. His voice rang with authority.

  “He is right. Satan cannot enter here. You must trust your maker to see you safe.”

  “But people have died,” someone said.

  “He is sick,” Ian shouted.

  “Look at him, he’s covered in blood. We know what he said about the vampires, how the devil commissions them to take blood, for his sake.”

  “No,” Ian said. “I implore you, good people. Still your panic. Have compassion. Do you see he is not hurting anyone?”

  “He needs our help,” Vicar said.

  A few of the men backed away, but Pete Stowe, with two burly men, approached, and catching Ian unawares, forced themselves through and began to drag Josef out by his blue, cold feet.

  “No,” Ian shouted, and blocked the door with Henry’s help. “Is there not anyone who will help me?”

  Henry stood with Ian, powerful body daring anyone to approach. “Has this poor man not served the town well, offering hospitality and charity to you all?”

  “He needs quiet and care, not violence,” Ian added.

  There was a lull for a brief moment as some in the crowd nodded. “Aye, it’s true.”

  His fierce Maggie broke through the crowd, swinging at Pete Stowe. “Get away from him. He’s done nothing.”

  Suddenly, convulsions shook Josef’s body. He bared his teeth, a white substance foaming from his mouth.

  “Who will stand with this good man?” Vicar asked, eyes blazing with authority.

  The number with Ian and Henry grew. Pete Stowe and his friends backed away.

  “Peace be with you,” Vicar said. “Pray with me, my flock. We must pray for him, and for this town.”

  Josef’s lips bared in a savage grin, groans issued from his mouth. His eyes flickered shut, open and shut again, as the convulsions shook him.

  He stilled.

  “No!” Maggie sobbed.

  The crowd grew silent. Ian leaned down, bent over his friend’s chest, and checked for a pulse at his wrist. “He is gone.”

  “Silence, everyone! Vicar shouted. “We must pray for this poor man.”

  The rabble of panicked townspeople overpowered the vicar’s prayer.

  Pete Stowe interrupted the vicar’s entreaty. “You pray for a monster?”

  A collective gasp went up among the crowd at his blasphemy.

  “Better you should pray for us, for there is much to fear in this town.” Pete Stowe and his friends shoved their way out the door.

  Henry exchanged a glance with Ian and left to follow Stowe.

  The whispers of doubt spread round the room.

  “He’s right. We are all in danger.”

  “Dead livestock, dogs torn to pieces, it was him!”

  “Have you ever seen such a horrible thing?”

  “Who will be next?”

  Ian searched the eyes of his neighbors, noting Mrs. Stowe’s hurried retreat out the door. “I beseech you, good people. We must cling to logic. You have always known Josef to be a good man. There is no evil here, only illness. He was the best of men.”

  “Go home now,” Vicar called. “Go home and pray for this good man. Do not let fear rule you, but trust in God.”

  The chapel soon was empty, and Maggie’s sobs echoed on the high ceiling. Ian glanced up and stared at the stain glass window’s depiction of Jesus healing the sick. It cast a blue light upon Maggie holding Josef’s limp hand.

  “Poor Josef,” she sobbed. “What will your Lena do?”

  “Maggie. We need to get you home. It is not good for you to be on the cold floor.”

  He helped her up. She was like ice, and he made
an effort to keep his voice calm. “We must bury him soon.”

  Henry returned. “I will help the vicar prepare the body while you see Maggie home.”

  “Come, Maggie.” Ian put his arm around her. As he helped her down the steps, her legs gave way.

  Ian rushed to gather her in his arms. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes. “I am fine. I just…”

  “I will carry you home.”

  “Ian, we must go to Lena’s and tell her of Josef’s death.”

  “I will do it, Maggie.”

  “No, I must be with her.”

  “Maggie.” Obstinate woman.

  “Carry me if you must, but carry me to Lena’s. She needs me. I am not having pains; it is not the babe.”

  “I will carry you, and you will sit once we arrive.”

  She nodded and leaned her head against his chest. He made haste to the Siren Inn.

  “Put me down. I can walk now.” Her eyes glinted steely grey, and she had life in her voice again. Her trembling stilled, and he felt her deep measured breaths as she fought to gain control. His fierce warrior. He set her aright, and they embraced, drawing strength from one another. “We will go slowly. If you need to rest, we’ll stop.”

  There were no questions from bystanders as they neared the inn. Everyone already knew what had happened. As Maggie and Ian came within sight of the Siren Inn, they stopped and stared as Mrs. Stowe exited, a smug smile upon her face. No. It was obvious what she was about; she had rushed to the inn to give Lena the news before anyone else could.

  Maggie stiffened. “Mrs. Stowe!”

  The woman turned.

  “Why would you do such a thing? Why would you draw pleasure from a fellow woman’s pain?”

  “It is no less than she deserves, what he deserves.”

  “You are an evil creature.” Maggie’s nostrils flared, and she took a step toward Pete’s mother, fists clenched.

  Never had he seen her so incensed.

  “They have done nothing to you but offer their kindness and hospitality to your son.”

  “He took the inn away from my Pete. It was rightfully his.”

  “It was your son who thought so little of it he would wager it away in a game of chance.”

  “Maggie,” Ian said quietly. “You cannot change her views, or change her. Save your strength.”

  “Stay away from her, do you hear me?” Maggie’s voice shook.

  “You will get what you deserve.” Mrs. Stowe turned away and walked down the street.

  They quickened their pace to the door, and hurried in.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Maggie and Ian rushed past the tables and into Lena’s private quarters. A baby’s cry echoed through the quiet room. Maggie stopped and swallowed down the bile of Mrs. Stowe’s hate. She fought for control. For Lena to learn of her Josef’s death from the bitter mouth of Mrs. Stowe was beyond unfair. But her anger would not help Lena. Ian laid his hand upon her head like a loving father, and a blessing of comfort and protection flowed through her.

  Sabine answered the door, red-eyed and trembling. Ian took her child from her arms. Maggie embraced her and strode to Lena’s bed. Lena lay propped upon the pillows, eyes blank with shock. The baby screamed in its cradle. Sabine picked him up, rocking him and crooning in her native language.

  Lena lifted her head. “It cannot be true. My Josef cannot be dead.”

  Maggie approached her. “Oh, Lena. I am sorry. He’s gone.” She wrapped her arms around her, smoothing the hair out of her eyes.

  She lifted her head. “She said Josef was like a monster when he died. She said Satan had him in his grasp. Tell me it is not true. He cannot be gone.”

  Ian stood at the foot of the bed. “He was sick.”

  “Why would she say such things about my Josef? He was a good man, a gentle man.” She shook her head. “He cannot be gone. No, it is not true.” She cried in great gasping sobs and curled into a ball.

  Maggie could only pat her back and stare helplessly. Why did God choose to make his good children suffer? The babe’s wailing increased in volume.

  “Lena, you must feed your son.”

  “No, I cannot.”

  Maggie could barely hear her. She tried to ignore the twinge of guilt as she said, “Josef’s son is calling to you.” Lena should have the right to mourn her beloved husband. But she could not, for she must carry on.

  “I will fix her a calming tisane.” Ian quietly left the room with Sabine’s babe.

  Lena struggled to sit up. Maggie adjusted the pillows behind her and washed her face with a warm cloth. Lena’s hands shook as she bared her breast for the babe. “Give him to me.” She held out her arms and put him to her breast.

  “My little Josef,” she whispered, and quietly wept.

  Sabine stood by the door, sorrow etched upon her face, making her look years older.

  “You have a long road ahead of you, Sabine. Take the time while we’re here to sit, rest, and eat. You need your strength.”

  She nodded. “I bring stew for us. Mother Lena needs to eat.”

  “Thank you, Sabine.”

  Ian returned with a cup of tea. “This will not take away the pain, but it may help you rest and perhaps sleep a bit.”

  Maggie took the baby from Lena and put him in the cradle.

  Ian eyed Maggie. “You promised you would sit.” He glared at her until she sat in the straight back chair in the corner.

  Sabine soon returned with a tray, and the four of them ate in silence.

  Lena’s eyes drooped as the calming tisane began to take effect.

  “How are you feeling?” Maggie took the bowl from her.

  She closed her eyes, tears seeping down her pale cheeks. “My Josef, he is gone.”

  “Yes.” There was nothing more she could say.

  Lena grasped her hand. “Do not leave me, Maggie.”

  “I won’t.” She must do something for her friend. “Oh, your poor hands are so chapped and dry.” She took some almond oil from her basket and massaged Lena’s work-worn hands.

  “Ach,” she whispered. “Feels so good.”

  Maggie watched Lena’s eyelids droop. How would her friend withstand the loss of Josef, and indeed, have the strength to carry on? How would she keep the inn going?

  “So tired,” Lena murmured.

  “Yes, rest is the best thing you can do for your babe.”

  Ian laid a hand on Maggie’s shoulder and led her to the door. “I must get back to the church and help ready Josef. It’s the least I could do.”

  “Ian. You must not blame yourself. No one could know what would happen.”

  He kissed her. “But if I had tried harder…”

  “I know, my love.”

  “I will come back for you when we’re finished.”

  How was Lena to hold onto her fatherless babe, in a world of grief and heartache?

  Sabine stood by Lena’s bedside.

  Lena opened her eyes. “Are there customers?”

  Sabine shook her head. “I.” She poked her chest. “I take care of things.”

  Her lips quivered, and tears rolled down her smooth olive skin. She squared her shoulders. “Mother Lena, I can brew. I can cook. You will rest.”

  Lena reached for her hand. “My dear girl. My daughter.”

  She gestured Sabine to get on the bed, and when the young girl looked questioningly at Maggie, she nodded.

  Lena turned on her side and pulled Sabine to her.

  A short time later, Maggie pulled the covers over them and crept from the room.

  ****

  When Maggie emerged from Lena’s rooms, she was relieved to see a mere scattering of loyal friends and customers, among them Henry and George, the baker and his wife, Martha, and a somber Vicar Andrews.

  “How is Mistress Sabine?” Vicar asked. “I don’t see her anywhere.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Josef was like a father to her.”

  “Yes, he was fond of her and loved the baby like a grandfa
ther.” She sat beside him.

  Ian arrived. He bent to kiss her forehead.

  “You make a fetching barmaid.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  How he could think such things in her bedraggled state, she’d never know. Her body ached from the fall the day before, making her feel old as a crone.

  Ian nodded to Vicar. “Thank you for your kind service to my friend.”

  “It is what I am called to do,” Vicar said. “I’m sorry there is no question of burial at the church kirkyard, despite my belief Josef was devoid of evil. I would hate to lose my position here.” He lowered his voice. “After last year, when the town was stricken with fear and superstition, and my superior got word of it, my job was in danger.”

  “I had no idea,” Ian exclaimed.

  “I will leave the secret with you,” he said. “For I suspect you know how to keep one.”

  Just then, Vicar became distracted by Sabine’s entrance. She smoothed her hands over her apron, looking the better for a few hours’ rest. When she saw the Vicar struggling comically to rise, she didn’t smile, exactly, but the dimples on each side of her mouth deepened. She nodded at him, and he blushed, but his hazel eyes shone at the attention.

  “Erm, my condolences, Mistress Sabine.”

  “Thank you. I must go to kitchen.”

  “My regards,” Vicar said, at her retreating form. He sighed.

  Henry came out of the kitchen, wiped his sweating face on his apron. “I’ve been shucking oysters,” he said. “Got a pot of stew on the stove and some fish frying.”

  “I did not know you were so handy in the kitchen,” Maggie said.

  “I lost my cook last year and have not replaced her.”

  He wiped his eyes with his apron. “I can’t believe I will not see Josef again.”

  “Regarding the funeral tomorrow,” Ian said. “Why do we not use my wagon? Lena will insist upon going, as unfit as she is, and she can ride in it to save her strength.”

  Vicar nodded, gulping the remainder of his brandy down. “If it helps the dear woman, then it is worth it.”

  “I half expect Josef to come trudging in here with a barrel full of drink, a surly look on his countenance.” Henry chuckled.

  “I remember when he got drunk and dropped the barrel of rum.” Maggie smiled. “I thought Lena would whip his hide.” She could not prevent a giggle from escaping. “It smelled like rum in here for days.”