The Silent Touch of Shadows

by Christina Courtenay

  Henry stared at him with eyes that were dangerously close to popping out of their sockets. Roger regarded him warily in return. ‘I’ve no idea,’ Henry said. ‘And what on earth makes you think he’d let Sibell wed a bastard, landless knight?’

  ‘I am not landless,’ Roger protested, keeping his voice level, despite the provocation. ‘I stand to inherit some holdings from my maternal uncle, Roger of Langford the elder …’ he began, but with a snarl of anger, Simon erupted from his seat on a nearby bench and came to jab his finger into Roger’s middle.

  ‘We don’t care how many holdings your uncle is giving you.’ Simon spat vehemently on to the floor. ‘Nor if the King himself gives you holdings. You’re still an upstart nobody of no account, and we’ll not have our sister associating with the likes of you.’

  ‘But I–’

  ‘You must know Sibell is to marry Sir Fulke of Thornby come September. Father has but recently returned from negotiating the contract. It’s all settled.’ He glanced at his other brothers. ‘Now since you’ve not heeded our earlier warning, I think we’d best send you on your way with a reminder. What say you, Henry, Edmund?’

  ‘Aye, Father did say he’d love for us to teach this son of a bitch a lesson,’ Edmund smirked.

  ‘Wait, you’ve not heard everything yet.’ Roger strived to keep his voice even and stand his ground.

  The fourth brother, Godwin, suddenly spoke up. He’d been sitting by one of the windows, staring out passively, but he rose now and walked over to join the group by the hearth. ‘Let the man speak first,’ he said.

  ‘Stay out of this, Godwin. Lord, but you’re such a runt,’ Simon grumbled.

  ‘I may be a runt, but at least I don’t make ill-informed judgements,’ Godwin retorted, glaring back. He turned back to Roger. ‘Now what did you have to add, Sir Roger?’

  ‘I was about to say that Sir Gilbert Presseille has agreed to acknowledge me as his natural son. He’s backing my proposal.’

  ‘A likely tale,’ Edmund scoffed. ‘And what difference does it make? As I said, Sibell is promised elsewhere.’

  ‘Your father was keen for the connection with the Presseille family once before,’ Roger reminded them.

  ‘Well he isn’t now he’s got Sir Fulke instead. This changes nothing,’ Simon spat again.

  ‘Sir Gilbert has promised me some of his holdings as a wedding gift. He is very fond of your sister.’ Roger glanced at Sibell, who had come sidling in during the conversation and now sat watching from a shadowed corner, obviously trying not to attract notice and thus make things worse. She shook her head slightly, as if to warn him not to draw attention to her presence, so he concentrated on the brothers instead.

  ‘Perhaps we should at least inform Father and let him make the decision,’ Godwin suggested, looking from Roger to the others. ‘I’ll go and fetch him if you have the time to wait?’ Roger nodded his agreement and Godwin headed for the door. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Yes, go, run to Father like you always do,’ Simon sneered. As soon as they heard the front door close, he added, ‘And in the meantime, we can have some sport.’ He grinned at his brothers and unsheathed his sword. Henry chuckled and Edmund followed suit, a look of pure malice crossing his features.

  ‘I’d say it was time to pay you back, Sir Knight.’ He laughed and in the next instant, the three of them attacked.

  With grim determination, Roger pulled out his sword to defend himself.

  Sibell screamed. Why had Roger come alone? she wondered. Why hadn’t he brought his new-found father? Or, at the very least, Hugone. She could only think he must have been in such a hurry to see her again and tell her of his good fortune that he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Her stomach muscles clenched in fear.

  ‘For the love of God, stop this madness!’ She forgot about staying unobtrusive and tried to throw herself into the fray.

  ‘Stay out of this, woman.’ Henry cuffed her so hard she flew backwards and tripped over a bench, hitting her head on the wall. She sank to the floor, the pain so strong it made her nauseous. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks as she realised she had no chance of helping her beloved. Nothing she could do would be of any use.

  Roger fought like a man possessed. Time and again he held her brothers off, managing to turn just in time as they came at him from all sides. He had excellent reflexes and thrust his sword with lightning speed, wounding at least two of the brothers. Sibell knew he had bested four men once before, because he’d told her so. She prayed it hadn’t been an idle boast and that he could do so again. As she watched the fight in mounting horror, however, Sibell began to think that perhaps there was one crucial difference – this time Roger wasn’t dealing with honourable men.

  Oh, Godwin, where are you? Hurry!

  Terrified now, she made another attempt to join the fight, latching on to Simon’s sword arm like an eagle holding on to its prey, but his strength was such that he managed to dislodge her with a single, impatient shake. Before she had time to try again, he gave her an almighty shove that thrust her into the wall once more. Her head swam and her vision became blurred.

  Through a haze of pain, she saw Roger continue to fight valiantly. His breathing was becoming laboured, and sweat poured into his eyes. Impatiently he swiped at it with his sleeve. It was obviously more difficult by the minute to keep them all at bay. She saw him inch closer to the door, intending to make his escape, but someone was there before him, blocking his way.

  Henry’s sword had gone flying clean across the room, but instead of taking the time out to retrieve it, he had picked up a sturdy piece of wood from the pile next to the fire. The light of battle was in his eyes as he advanced on the man who had humiliated his brothers before the crowd at Idenhurst.

  Just then, Godwin came into the room and took in the scene, his eyes widening in horror. He must have seen Henry’s intent at the same time as Sibell, and launched himself in his brother’s direction while shouting, ‘Henry, no!’ But it was too late.

  Roger may have felt the stirring of the air before the heavy wood connected with the back of his skull, but he didn’t have time to react. As his knees buckled, he looked up, his eyes connecting with Sibell’s. She could only stare, horrified, as his lips formed her name, but no sound emerged.

  Sibell screamed again. ‘Nooooo! Roger!’ The drawn-out sound stopped her other brothers in their tracks and they froze, swords held in mid-strike. Slowly, they lowered their weapons and stared at each other as they took in what had happened

  The room was suddenly eerily silent.

  The nightmare struck without warning, even more frightening because of its intensity.

  ‘Melissa, Melissa!’ Several different voices were calling her, beckoning her towards … what? She didn’t know, but she was afraid of it.

  In the black void of darkness the voices were soft and silky at first, like a lover whispering endearments. They were persuasive, cajoling, but soon their tone changed subtly. She began to shake with fear and tried to say ‘no’. Nothing happened. No sound was heard from her, but the voices continued, angrier now.

  Suddenly faces appeared out of nowhere, swirling around her, luminous, translucent. She didn’t know who they were or why they were there. Disembodied faces, nothing else. Some were happy, some sad. There were angry faces, threatening ones, too. She tried to shrink back, but they surrounded her on all sides, pursued her relentlessly. There was nowhere to hide.

  A beautiful woman floated past. She reminded Melissa of herself, but the woman’s icy glare startled her and froze her to the marrow. Then a man, breathtakingly handsome, smiled seductively as he sidled past, but when Melissa dared to relax even a fraction, his features turned angry, ugly and twisted. She gasped and her lungs constricted painfully.

  ‘Melissa, you know you have to do it.’ The voices were building to a crescendo, terrifying her into frozen immobility. The disembodied heads floated nearer, closing in on her, hemming her in on all sides. She had to get
away.

  She tried to scream, but as before nothing happened. Gathering her last ounces of strength she made one more attempt. A pitiful little whimper was all that came out, but it was enough.

  It woke her up.

  Someone put a cool hand on her brow. ‘Relax, you’re just dreaming, sweetheart.’ Jake’s arms enveloped her and she remembered that she was with him at Ashleigh Cottage. She tried to control her breathing so as to slow down her frantic heartbeat. She’d only meant to close her eyes for a moment, but must have dozed off. Although she knew it had only been a dream, she no longer felt safe there or anywhere else.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all part of the same thing.’

  ‘No, come on. It’s only natural you should have nightmares, you’ve been through a lot recently. It will pass.’

  ‘It won’t, Jake. I was so sure the exorcism would end it, one way or another, but it’s just made everything worse. Roger is even more determined now. I can feel it.’

  The aborted exorcism had shaken her badly and she’d been so distraught, she had gone to see the local doctor for some advice. He had been quietly sympathetic and to her relief didn’t ridicule her belief in the ghost.

  ‘I’m not saying I believe in ghosts and the like, Ms Grantham,’ he said kindly, ‘but if you believe in them – and clearly you do – then you need to remove yourself from their vicinity before it’s too late. The mind is a strange thing, and I think rest is the only cure for what ails you. You’ve been overdoing things lately.’ He added as an afterthought, looking her straight in the eyes, ‘Being pregnant often gives rise to strange fancies, as you probably know. It’s certainly a drain on your energy. You must think of what’s best for the baby, now.’

  Having her pregnancy confirmed in such a stark manner made Melissa realise she couldn’t ignore it any longer. A decision had to be made one way or another, but she knew she wasn’t in a fit state at the moment. She had to escape from Ashleigh and Roger, if only for a short time, so that she could re-charge her batteries.

  ‘Jake, I’ve got to get away for a while. I’m thinking of taking a holiday.’

  ‘That might be a good idea.’

  ‘Dorothy suggested a health farm. She said a friend of hers went and swears it did her a world of good.’

  ‘I don’t know. Sounds like a lot of money for not very much if you ask me. You really think mud packs are going to help?’ The smile she could hear in Jake’s voice calmed her slightly, but she knew it wasn’t really a joking matter.

  ‘Hmm, maybe not. I quite fancy somewhere warm actually.’

  ‘You could perhaps find one of those last-minute holidays? Spain, Italy? Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Would you be terribly offended if I said no? Only, I really think I need to go by myself. I have to do some serious thinking and if you come, you’ll only distract me. In the nicest possible way, of course.’

  She felt him stiffening slightly, then he sighed. ‘Fine. I probably couldn’t find a locum at such short notice anyway.’ Jake pretended indifference, but Melissa could tell he was hurt. A part of her wanted to ask him to come in order to soothe his ruffled feathers, but she knew deep down she had to go by herself. She needed space.

  In the end, she settled for Mallorca and Jolie persuaded her to take her and Amy as well. ‘We won’t be any trouble, I promise,’ she cajoled. ‘You can just rest as much as you want.’

  Melissa had to smile at the vision conjured up by Jolie’s words. Two angelic twelve-year-olds wasn’t how she would have chosen to describe the pair normally. However, she would have felt guilty about leaving Jolie behind, so this was the best solution. She was lucky enough to find a holiday within her budget and Amy was given permission to go. Although Melissa sensed that Jake was still upset about not being asked to come, she pretended not to notice and breathed a sigh of relief as the plane took off from English soil.

  At last, she would be free from Roger and any reminders of him, if only for a while.

  The balmy gusts of wind were extremely welcome and Melissa closed her eyes to enjoy their cooling effect on her heated body. But lying on a lounge chair in the oppressive heat of a Mallorcan sun, she had far too much time to think, which wasn’t what she was meant to be doing. She was supposed to relax and recover her strength. She concentrated on the soothing sound of waves splashing on the Mediterranean shore nearby.

  Dorothy had warned her it would be too hot and Melissa was beginning to agree with her now. It really was burning. She shifted restlessly and debated whether to go for a swim, but she felt too lethargic. Finally, she couldn’t stand the heat any more and walked over to the edge of the hotel pool. As she slid gratefully into the cooling water she breathed a sigh of pure pleasure. Jolie and Amy were diving at the other end, and there was noise and laughter all around her, but she ignored it. She leaned back to float slowly around, buoyed up by the wet cocoon. The water slapped gently over her stomach, which didn’t as yet show much sign of the baby growing within. Why couldn’t life always be this simple? she wondered.

  The dream came unexpectedly after a respite of almost two weeks. Melissa sat up in her hotel bed, gasping for air and fighting the panic threatening to overwhelm her.

  ‘Oh, God, not again,’ she moaned. Her heart seemed to be trapped somewhere inside her chest, desperately beating on its prison bars.

  Someone had screamed her name. No, not her name; Sibell’s. She knew with terrifying certainty that it had been the scream of someone desperate. Someone in need of her help. The thought caused a tremor to shoot through her. She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat and exhaled slowly.

  Roger. Even here in Mallorca, she couldn’t escape him. He still wanted something from her, and he wasn’t giving up. Hanging her head in defeat, Melissa climbed wearily out of bed and let herself out onto the balcony. She leaned on the balustrade, took deep breaths of the cool night air to calm her agitated nerves and listened to the lullaby played by the thousands of grasshoppers, the Spanish cicadas.

  I was a fool to think I could get away. The problem wasn’t going to disappear just because she went on holiday for a few weeks. Roger would be waiting for her at Ashleigh Manor, inexorably drawing her towards the end. But the end of what? If only she knew what he wanted. Was it something that would harm her or her baby? Dare she take the risk? Did she have a choice? So many questions and no answers.

  ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what to do, Roger,’ she whispered, gripping the railing so hard her knuckles turned white. She felt a stirring in her mind as she said the last word, but it was so faint she couldn’t be sure.

  With a sigh she closed her eyes. It was almost time to go home, and it was past time for a reckoning. Melissa clenched her jaw in determination. She wouldn’t break. She had to be strong. For herself and her baby; for Jake and Roger.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sibell watched in stunned disbelief as Roger slumped to the floor, her scream reverberating round her brain. For the life of her, she couldn’t move, not so much as a finger. Her whole body was numb, her brain refusing to take in what she had just witnessed.

  The entire room appeared frozen in time until her father arrived a moment later, slamming the door open and glaring at the occupants.

  ‘What is going on here? Can I not leave the house for even a short time without …’ He broke off in mid-sentence as he took in the scene. ‘What the devil is the meaning of this?’

  Sibell knew her father had never liked Roger and it was more than likely he’d told his sons to teach him a lesson after he had bested them at Idenhurst. She doubted her father had meant them to act on his words, however, at least not to this extent. He may even have been jesting while in his cups. Roger was, after all, attached to Sir Gilbert’s household, in charge of training his men, and her father was well aware that Sir Gilbert wouldn’t take too kindly to having any of his men beaten senseless.

  She found her tongue at last and let out another ear-p
iercing scream of horror. Her father’s expression mirrored her sentiments as they both stared at the lifeless form of Sir Roger, lying in a pool of blood on the floor near the door. The four brothers remained virtually motionless, three of them breathing hard, and still with the light of battle in their eyes. No one moved until Sibell staggered to her feet and ran over to Roger, throwing herself down on top of him, feeling for his pulse. Her feverish hands tried all the usual places, but without success.

  ‘Jesu God, you’ve killed him!’ Her eyes turned accusingly from one brother to the next, before she launched herself at the nearest one in a frenzy of rage. ‘You foul swine, you have murdered him!’

  ‘No, he’s just unconscious,’ Simon protested, although his voice didn’t sound very convincing. He looked down at Sir Roger anxiously. ‘We’ve only taught the man a lesson. It was long overdue.’

  ‘He’s not unconscious. He’s dead! Dead, do you hear? You … have … murdered … him.’ Sibell’s small fists beat against his chest, punctuating her words, and her nails gouged at his face. Simon defended himself as best he could, but in the end he tired of the attack and cuffed her hard to stop her. She froze for an instant, then fell to the floor in a sobbing heap next to Roger.

  Godwin glared at Henry in disgust. ‘I told you to stop, but as usual you wouldn’t listen. You always have to go one step further than anyone else, you brainless clod.’

  ‘Shut your mouth, runt. He got what he deserved,’ Henry retorted, eyes narrowed in rage. He clenched his fists and looked ready to attack his brother next.

  ‘You were three against one.’ Godwin threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘He was already beaten; there was no need to go so far. You should have let him leave, you fool.’ The others looked at Godwin in surprise. It was seldom he was roused to make a speech of such length and vehemence.

  Presently Sibell, who was still wailing and clutching at the body, saw her father’s gaze return to the man on the floor and to her. ‘Control yourself, girl,’ he said brusquely. He pushed her out of the way and bent down to check Roger’s pulse for himself. ‘Surely, you didn’t go that far?’ he muttered and checked once more. Finding nothing, his anger returned with a vengeance. ‘By all the saints, did I say anything about killing this man?’ he hissed at his sons. ‘You half-wits, you’ll have to leave or you’ll all hang for this.’