A Violent Man ( the story of Thomas Flynn )

by Michael Siddall

  Chapter 19

  It was deathly quiet in the old Abbey graveyard the next morning as Thomas stood reverently in front of a newly erected headstone with a sombre look on his face. A hollow look of grief shadowed his watery eyes. He had thought he would never feel ashamed or guilty – two burdens he could never bear – but now the tempest of rage that filled him not so very long ago, raged within him again.

  In past times he had overcome the murderous baron Ozhan and his illegitimate heir, Ozhobar, but now there was another crazed knife-wielding maniac on the loose. He stood in the sunshine trying to find solace and hesitated before reading the small inscription on the gravestone in front of him. Nevertheless, read it he did – and he began to cry.

  It simply read: ‘It was a game of happy families,

  Until father died suddenly,

  Heaving with a moan,

  Now I lay beneath these flowers,

  Leaving my only child alone,

  God bless.

  The grave was the final resting place of the murderer’s latest victim – the young woman found in the hay cart. Lira, Thomas’ wife had taken charge of her orphaned child and they were both willing to rear him as their own. A child must have a mother and father’s love, Lira had told Thomas. His own sadistic, violent upbringing in Alnwick castle with his brother had taught him that much at least. Human beings can endure almost any deprivation if they know their parents love them, Thomas thought. Yet he himself – in some twisted way – had survived on the pure hatred of Baron Sedgwick and Lady Ann and their sexual depravity and regular beatings that he and his brother had endured year after year. It had somehow made them both stronger and less willing to submit to their fears and anxieties. Lesser men would have crumbled and died.

  He suddenly came back from his reverent reverie when a soft voice from behind announced, ‘when I was little, I believed in God and thought that life would be like one everlasting perfect day.’ He turned around.

  It was Lira and she too looked incredibly saddened. ‘I thought that I would live in a big fine house, be sinfully rich, meet and marry my dream man,’ she continued, her expression collapsing into one of forlorn reminiscence, ‘but nothing could have prepared me for the sad truth. It’s not that I’m ashamed of where I live, bothered by the fact that I’m not rich, or disappointed by the man I fell in love with and married. No, it’s none of those…’ she said pausing for thought.

  Thomas’ eyes met hers. He could see she was drowning in the adult world of death. Reaching out he took her hand, squeezing her fingers gently in a gesture of reassurance. She was trembling. He pulled her close, her warm body against his and smoothed back the golden hair that fell over her forehead, kissing her full red lips softly. ‘I know what troubles you. Life is not the bed of roses or bowl of cherries we expect it to be,’ he said. ‘It’s anything but. It’s cruel, full of pitfalls and very dangerous. And just when you think you’re on top of the world it crumbles beneath your feet like so much dry clay. It happened to me last year when they threw me in jail. My whole world collapsed to the sound of the jail door slamming shut behind me.’

  This time Lira squeezed his hand gently in a gesture of reassurance. ‘I love you,’ she said softly. ‘And I always will.’

  *

  It was cold, dark; misty and raining heavily as the masked man came to the top of the cliff. He had walked far, but wasn’t sure how far. He stood at the top of the cliff on the very brink in the darkness and the wind whipped at his cloak and sang though his cold fingers. He could hear water far below. Swaying forward with the wind pressing against his back he watched the stars wheeling through the heavens. It was just before dawn and the sky was turning blue. Wind tugged at the grass beneath his feet and two gulls flew crying over the rocks, landing on a patch of sand searching for food. He kicked at the gulls and swore, scuttling hither and thither among the rocks until the two gulls flew up into the wind with a frightened cry and disappeared from sight.

  Now he searched amongst the rocks until he found what he was looking for – a young woman’s disembodied head that he had buried the night before. He picked it up, clutching it to his chest as if it were a great treasure. He laughed insanely. Taking out his hunting knife he began cutting off the ears and nose and fed them to his ghostly looking hound as the moon slid between screens of dark clouds. The hound howled begging for more, so he gouged out the eyes, ate one himself and gave the other to the dog. Then silently he stole back to his cave before the rising of the dawn sun.

  *

  The child’s eyes shone with pure innocence. Thomas towered above him, staring down into the cradle. Toys and the scent of roses filled the bedroom. He turned slowly, crossing the floor to the window to look out. The sun was up and Lira was in the backyard hanging out the washing, while Olivia was sat in the sandbox with her brother, Benjamin, playing with small shovels and sand pails.

  Repeatedly they transferred sand from one pail to another and began making a castle with turrets and towers. Thomas watched them playing for quite some time until Benjamin suddenly screamed, throwing his shovel down in an almighty tantrum. Olivia calmed him by giving him her shovel, which was red. He liked the red one better so he smiled happily. She smiled too.

  Thomas turned again, staring at the baby in the cradle. ‘You shall have my name. We'll call you Thomas,’ he suddenly said. ‘It's a good name, a strong name and that's the way you'll grow up. And I'll teach you everything you need to know in order to survive a cruel world. I so swear it.’ He walked back across the room, knelt beside the cradle and the child looked up into his strong face, gurgled, giggled and smiled at him. The child’s eyes were fever bright and so were his. ‘We’ll grow old together you and I, and my family is now your family. You have a brother, sister and a new mother who will love you until the end of days, as will I. There. I've said it,’ he announced with a happy look. ‘And now the four of you will be on my mind and I'll worry about you all constantly.’

  His voice was calm and reassuring. And in moments the child had fallen fast asleep as if by some magic spell. He went downstairs, out into the backyard. Lira was still hanging out the washing and the children playing. ‘I‘ve thought long and hard of late about our future and have decided it isn’t here. We can't continue to live at the Dog and Duck,’ he said after a single moment of concentrated thought.

  She dropped the washing looking stunned and rushed over, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly, kissing him full on the lips. ‘Of course not darling, of course not,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘You don’t mind? You’re not angry?’ he asked. ‘Won’t you miss this old place?’

  She sighed heavily. ‘Put it this way, I won’t exactly grieve. It’s always been hard work in the kitchen and laundry room, not to mention the bar and taproom.’ She seemed to be on the verge of tears because she was so happy with his decision.

  ‘I always did feel sorry for you when we were rushed off our feet. But also, we've been living way beyond our means,’ he said.

  Again she sighed. ‘I know. We spent money before we had it and the inn is losing money hand over fist. Dardo and Dody haven’t helped either, even though they work hard. They drank the profits while you were in jail.’ She frowned as she spoke the words and sat down in the sandbox. Picking up Benjamin, she sat him on her lap and her eyelids drooped as she glanced at Olivia. ‘We’re tired of living this way, but so are they. They need more time from us. We should have fun with them. Play games with them. Play with their toys and have parties with them, even if only now and again.’

  ‘You’re so right and now there's Thomas to consider too,’ he said.

  She looked confused. ‘Thomas?’ she asked standing as firmly as a rooted oak.

  ‘It’s our third child. My name is a good name. Strong too, and that’s why he should have it and bear it proudly,’ he announced. His dark eyes sparkled with satisfaction. The love that had grown in his heart for the boy was not a sudden fancy, but rather the passion of a stro
ng, courageous man who loves being a father and adores his children.

  Suddenly, he became aware of heavy footsteps behind him, scrunching along their shingle path and he turned to face the newcomer. It was a heavily built, bull-necked youth with coarse features. Staring at the youth he nodded his welcome and the other nodded back.

  ‘Can I be of service to you friend?’ Thomas asked amiably.

  The young man had a troubled look in his eyes, and although he seemed calm and quiet, his strong hands trembled as if some shadowy terror hung over him. ‘It’s my wife,’ he said at last, striding up to them. ‘She’s been murdered.’ His eyes misted over instantly and his gaunt face looked so incredibly sad.

  The youth’s sombre words shook Thomas’ nerves, chilling his heart, and likewise Lira. Luckily, even though the children heard the dreadful words they were far too young to understand what they meant.

  The youth seemed frozen, his hand hovering near his throat and his heart came up darkening his eyes. Something wild and terrifying burgeoned in Lira’s heart just from watching him tremble like a leaf, and his face was so pale that it resembled a death mask almost.

  Thomas stared hard at the youth. ‘Your wife's dead?’ he asked in a whisper.

  ‘Yes, someone's murdered her,’ the other whispered back so the children wouldn’t hear anything more.

  ‘My God, what's happening to this community,’ said Lira solemnly, despair washing the colour from her face.

  The youth’s eyes seemed to sink deeper into his skull and he began to cry.

  ‘Sit down before you fall down,’ offered Thomas.

  The other sat down on the edge of the sandbox with his head in his hands, sobbing. ‘She’s gone. She’s gone and I’ll never see her again, ever,’ he said in a tight rasping voice. It was a pitiful sight to see the hulking youth crying like a baby. ‘I hate God for taking her. We should have been together for a long time, but now she’s gone.’

  Thomas laid his hand upon the youth’s shoulder. ‘Unfortunately death is every bit as cruel as we think it is, but we can't blame God if someone we love is murdered. We should only blame the person responsible for the deed, for he has betrayed Gods laws and vengeance shall quench the heartbreak that follows in its wake. I will personally seek out this individual and stop him once and for all – this I promise.’

  Dreadful laugher drifted into Thomas’ mind and the murderer’s thoughts reared up within him, flaring like a bright torch in his skull. ‘Bear in mind that I know who and where you are when you preach to others that you alone will stop me,’ said the voice. ‘And don’t forget that you have an even bigger family to look after now, and baby Thomas is even more vulnerable than the rest of you. Mark my words. I can kill your whole family if I want to. In fact, all of them might be dead by tomorrow morning.’

  Suddenly, Thomas was panic stricken. Within the halls of his own subconscious he knew the murderer was not just making idle threats. He stood stock-still, mentally shaken and unable to voice a reply, not wanting to let Lira know of the threat. More mad laughter drifted into his mind.

  ‘What, no clever retort? No stern reply?’ said the voice inside his head.

  Thomas closed his eyes, opening the inner psychic gateway and he fell back into himself once again. The move was unexpected and sudden, and before the murderer could summon his own defences, Thomas’ powerful raw emotions frightened him. This time he could hear the swordsman's thoughts and mocking laughter and his mouth was dry, his heart beating fast. ‘No matter what a dread force you are, I'll rip out your heart and suck your liver dry before I will allow you to touch any of my family,’ Thomas threatened and a powerful unseen hand seemed to grip the murderer's throat. He gasped for breath and groaned, terrible pain exploding in his skull.

  ‘You're psychically strong,’ said the murderer's voice. ‘But you're not physically strong these days. You are racked with pain.’

  ‘And you're a lily-livered, chickenhearted coward who will panic when we cross swords. So prepare yourself, for it will be one day very soon,’ countered Thomas, 'and you'll wish that the whore-bitch, who spawned you, had not.’

  Lira’s frightened voice suddenly dragged him back to reality, breaking the psychic link and the murderer was silent once more. ‘What are we to do?’ she asked in despair.

  Thomas stared wild eyed as if in a trance. ‘I'll probe for my opponent’s weaknesses, uncover them and strike,’ he said. ‘I'm aware of my own weaknesses and can use them against my enemy. In my mind I'll become the murderer and will know what's coming next.

  ‘Can you actually do that?’ she asked.

  ‘Anyone can fight, but it’s our wits that make us warriors. When I fight I take with me strength, courage and the element of surprise, and know how to use them to my best advantage. Therefore, I always win. And over the years I've found that if you're the best at one thing, you can have anything you desire in life – and I desire a reckoning and revenge for all those poor murdered women’s souls.’

  Lira's blood froze to the sound of his words. She hadn’t heard him speak like this in years. And from that day forward her sickly husband ceased to drink gin, exercised regularly, running several miles each day, ate good food, did sit ups, pull ups and press ups, climbed trees and swung around like a monkey from morning till night, enjoying every minute of it until his body was back at the peak of fitness and perfection. Thomas Flynn the swordsman was back – reborn anew.

  *

  Two months later it was all calm and quiet at the Dog and Duck. The night was fine with stars twinkling brightly overhead as Thomas stood stock-still watching a meteor streak through the heavens and fall to earth in silence. Once again he was a proud, heroic looking figure of a man and his skin glowed instead of looking sallow, his muscles rippled and his speed of hand and foot was positively exceptional as it had been before. Even his dreadful nightmares had seemingly ceased – at least for the moment anyway. However, he was still experiencing wild mood swings that he couldn’t control and he was dark, stern and menacing at times – almost like a monster rather than a man. Even his eyes seemed to glow with a baleful light when a vague nameless terror came over him. Sometimes he even frightened Lira and the children and hated himself for doing so.

  Someone tugged at his arm. It was Lira. ‘Only one more week and we can leave this place for good,’ she said interrupting his thoughts, her voice a whisper.

  ‘Aye,’ he said scratching his head. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the back door of the old inn, ‘and I’ve got a strange feeling that I'm going to miss this place even though it’s been a lot of hard work for the both of us.’

  ‘Do you really think you’ll miss it?’ she asked.

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me at all,’ he answered with a half-smile. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be surprised again after what has occurred over the last few months.’ A terrifying thought entered his mind. It’s been quiet for two months with no murders, but there's still a crazed killer lurking out there somewhere, he thought. And just as he was thinking it, he became aware of a big shadow on the stable door opposite him. It was an ominous crouching shadow. Butterflies began to flutter wildly in his stomach and he breathed heavily, but before he could react the shadow glided away. Lira hadn’t seen it so he didn’t mention it in case it frightened her.

  He turned, putting his arm about her shoulders. ‘Look, it’s getting late, we had better get inside and open up or we’ll have an angry crowd of people waiting to get in for their evening meal,’ he said very calmly.

  She smiled up at him. ‘Well, we can’t have that can we?’ she said as they headed for the back door together, hand in hand.

  He opened the door for her and she went inside, but before he entered he glanced back at the stable door where the shadow had been, looking and listening for any sign of life. He concentrated, emptying his mind, having the strangest feeling that someone was close and trying to pick up his thoughts and his blood froze when he thought he could detect the outline
of a shadowy face near the stables. Eerily it hovered there fleetingly, then disappeared back into the shadows and was gone. Did I really see a face, or is my imagination getting the better of me these days, he thought. With his nerves jangling and on edge he went inside, closing the door behind him.

  Golden lantern light glowed in the stairwell windows and a rush of heat enveloped him as he pushed open the bar-room door. Lira had lit the log fires at either end of the bar and opened the main doors to let in the customers waiting there, and she greeted each of them amiably with her beautiful smile.

  Within no more than ten minutes the whole place was filled with a mixed crowd of privateers and noblemen, and Thomas sat at his usual corner table with his back to the wall, watching them enjoying themselves. A short bald-headed man gazed at him and smiled. He smiled back nodding his greeting. The man’s face was rosy-red, plump and quite old, but pleasant. Thomas scanned the room, his gaze stopping short at a large mirror on the far wall. It was old, cracked and dusty and he found himself confronted by his own reflection. He stared hard at himself and liked what he saw. With the demon drink banished from his life he looked like a different person altogether – strong, handsome and quite youthful looking for his age.

  Suddenly, the lights in the bar seemed to dim and the air around him grew heavy. Then there was silence for a moment as his eyes widened and his image began to distort and change. eHHhh He breathed deeply as he continued to stare. Now the face in the mirror began to change rapidly, the eyes white with no pupils and he blinked hard averting his gaze briefly before looking back at his reflection. The mirror had seemingly grown larger and darker and it intrigued him how his image looked. It was really quite scary. He had a shock of white hair, his face was almost corpse grey and his body was no more than a bag of bones. He blinked hard again, unable to believe what he was seeing and his reflection returned to normal.