The Haunting

by Raymond M Hall

  Days turned into weeks and weeks into months as the newcomers settled in the township. The biggest problem was the language barrier as most of the locals spoke in Gaelic and were reluctant to lower their standards and speak the accursed English language. However, they helped the men in picking up the basics and soon they were able to converse reasonably well.

  Luke missed Bethany and never a day passed without him thinking of her. Their time together had been so brief, but he acknowledged that it was very doubtful if they would ever be together again. Luke worked his hours at the bakery and did very little else, the irony of the situation was not lost on him, and he often smiled to himself when he thought about Lower Marston. The smile would quickly sour as he recalled his brother, Tom, and that fateful day when his life ended so violently by Luke’s own hand. He worried how Bethany would be coping, alone with his father in the bakery. He had no illusions as to his father’s character, knew he would take advantage of the situation if he could, especially where Bethany was concerned. But Luke could do nothing. To return, would mean certain death for himself and the others who had braved the journey with him. He couldn’t and wouldn’t lead them back into that situation. A couple of the men had found lady friends in the small town, and it became apparent that soon they would be married and starting families of their own.

  Luke was a good looking young man and already had several admirers among the young single women, but he couldn’t bring himself to engage himself in any other way than polite conversation, being a married man. Bethany’s sweet face was in his mind every time he slept; she was the only girl he ever wanted and was sure she could never be replaced.

  As the months added up to be a year the other men of his group had all paired off with local girls. Their various skills had assured them of a future in the town, and they could all now converse easily in Gaelic; one could be forgiven for believing they had lived in the town all their lives. Detection by the English as Gypsies was a very remote possibility and given another year would be impossible. They were safe at last.

  The one exception was Luke. Although hotly pursued by the womenfolk he managed to stay aloof and remained single, not even to entertain a casual friendship. His only female friend was the baker's elderly wife who treated him more like a son.

  Two years has passed, and Luke could bear it no longer. He arranged a meeting and told the other men of his old group that he would be leaving soon to retrace his steps back to Lower Marston because he couldn’t stand to be without Bethany for a moment longer. Surely the English would have given up on him by now?

  The others shuffled their feet uncomfortably as Luke outlined his plans to leave the sanctity of Plockton, the place they now referred to as home. He stopped in mid-sentence as he realised how uncomfortable they had all become and chuckled,

  ‘Listen, lads; I am not suggesting you come with me. You are well established here and happy, why, two of you are about to become fathers. No, it’s I and I alone who will be leaving, I have to go back to my own dear wife. When I leave, I shall wipe all memories of this place from my mind, and if taken by the English shall say nothing of this location. I’ll concoct a story which will lead them on a merry chase if they even bother. However, I have no intention of being taken, and if I can find my dear wife, we shall both make haste to return here, by stealth naturally. Then we shall all be happy and content to live out our lives in this glorious place.’

  The men all cheered at this, in relief as well as at the prospect of Luke’s return.

  The next morning, Luke slipped away unnoticed into the wilds of the surrounding country. He made good time even though he chose a circuitous route to cover the origin of the start of his journey. It would, he knew, take some time to get back to his little village and the bakery and although he was eager to see Bethany he was cognisant of the need for caution.

  Four weeks to the day, Luke slipped into Upper Marston. He was only three of miles from the bakery and his wife. It was still night, and he made his way down the road towards Lower Marston but behind the hedgerows to avoid being seen by any chance traveller or late night reveller.

  As he entered the bakery yard, he saw the lights of the bakery and heard the clamour of baking tins moving around. He supposed it would be his father but chose to enter the house by the back door in his eagerness to reunite with Bethany. He climbed the stairs, his heart almost bursting with excitement at the prospect of seeing her once again. Luke stood in the doorway of their bedroom and stared at the mattress. The bed was unmade and devoid of any covering, where was Bethany?

  He went into the other bedroom, his father’s, and looked upon the unmade bed, covers thrown this way and that but no Bethany.

  Returning downstairs he searched every room, but of his wife, there was no sign. Finally, he went out to the bakery and opening the door saw his father sweating profusely over the heat of the oven, emptying the tins of freshly baked bread onto the big old table.

  Seth looked up at Luke, and a brief look of fear crossed his face.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ He asked.

  ‘Nice to see you too, father.’ Replied Luke. ‘Where’s my wife? Where’s Bethany?’

  Seth drew himself up to his full height,

  ‘She ain't here; she left just after you were taken. Don’t know where she went, she just left.’

  Luke was stumped, he never expected that answer. Lost for words, he could only nod his head in disbelief and sit down slowly on a chair. He sat, head in hands, Seth staring at him. The fact that his son had returned had still not fully sunk in. He had been convinced he would never see him again, believing him to be already overseas. The local gossips assured him that the accursed Gypsies had all been rounded up and transported out to the colonies where they might at least serve some purpose in life instead of burdening the community with their unwelcome presence. He believed his son now to be one of them and as such would have been despatched with the rest.

  He looked down at Luke, slamming a full tin down onto the table to encourage it to give up its freshly baked loaf.

  ‘How about you help me then? I’ve been on my own for some two years now, and it hasn't been easy. Just as well the village is emptying out. Otherwise, I never would have coped.’

  Luke got to his feet and began tipping out the loaves of bread working automatically, where was his wife? Why had she left? Surely she would have been safer here than running away and where would she have run? All her family had been taken by the soldiers after her father was shot dead.

  Later, in the kitchen, he attempted to quiz his father once more over Bethany’s sudden departure. But Seth said he knew nothing of where she had gone; disappeared into the night he asserted, not a week after the soldiers had taken Luke.

  ‘Have they been back here? Luke asked half afraid of the answer.

  ‘No, they never returned, neither did any of the Gypsies, all gone and good riddance!’ Seth exclaimed.

  ‘What about Jeb?’ Luke asked.

  ‘The soldiers threw his body on the fire at the campsite, nothing much left by the time the locals went there. Slim pickings too, the Gypsies didn’t have much of value.’

  Luke bridled,

  ‘You mean to tell me the villagers looted the camp?’

  Seth looked at his son angrily,

  ‘So what? They won’t be back, no point in letting good stuff go to waste.’

  Luke was furious,

  ‘And what about Jeb? Did they at least give him a decent burial?’

  Luke sneered at his son,

  ‘That good for nothing? Wasn’t much left to bury, just his ugly head, or what was left of it. One of the locals stuck it in the fork of a tree so Jeb could look over his campsite.’

  ‘So, you were there too!’ Exclaimed Luke.

  ‘Yes, I was there along with everybody else, I managed to get one of the small carts, it’s out there now, in the yard.

  ‘And what of Bethany? Did she know you were at the camp picking over their possessions?’


  Seth answered smugly,

  ‘Yes she did, and was only too pleased to have the shawl I brought back, said it was her mother’s.’

  ‘And she left shortly after, you say?’ Questioned Luke.

  Seth looked away shiftily,

  ‘About then, give or take a few weeks.’

  Later in the morning Luke went up to his old room and threw a covering on the bed intending to get some sleep, but as he climbed in, he noticed something shiny lying just under the bed. It would have been easy to miss except the sun was at the perfect angle to reflect light off it. He bent down and picked the object up. Luke stared at it, turning it over and over in his hand, tears sprang from his eyes, and he put it to his lips. It was the half golden pound, the symbol of their marriage. He still had his, despite everything that had happened. It was the one possession he valued above all others, the two halves of a golden pound split asunder on the occasion of his marriage to his beloved Bethany. He couldn’t believe she would have left it behind when she left, she treasured her half, just as he did his own.

  Luke thundered down the stairs to confront his father in the kitchen. He waved the half coin in front of Seth’s face.

  ‘Left did she? I think not. She would never have left this behind. What happened? What did you do to her?’

  Seth, deciding that the best form of defence was attack, turned on his son and angrily re-asserted that the girl had left of her own free will.

  ‘The ungrateful bitch just upped and walked out, left me here all alone to cope with the bakery as best I could.’

  ‘She would never have left you alone, she is part of our family now, and to a Gypsy, the family is everything. Their loyalty to each other is second to none. Now, I’ll ask you again, what did you do to her? Did she run away in fear? I know what an evil bastard you can be.’

  Seth saw red and attacked his son, throwing punches with both fists, but Luke had become hardened over the past two years, he easily parried the blows and felled his father with one punch to the chin. Seth dropped to his knees, Luke standing over him menacingly.

  ‘Tell me, father, what did you do to my wife? Did you force yourself upon her, thinking that I would be gone forever? Was that it? Did you think to take her for yourself?’

  Seth attacked again from his kneeling position aiming a blow to Luke’s midriff, but again Luke was ready for him. He knew his father was a bully and bullies seldom won a fight without cheating. Luke sidestepped the blow and punched down to the side of his father’s head, flooring him one again.

  Luke moved out of range and continued to berate Seth.

  ‘And don’t think you can threaten me with Tom’s death either, I have had plenty of time to think long and hard about that night. I was defending my wife against rape, no court in the land would hang me for that. But you, you, on the other hand, suggested burning his body in the oven, your own son! The courts would not think kindly of you for that. No, if you accuse me you condemn yourself in the process.’

  Seth, still on the floor, was fuming. His youngest son had grown up during his absence, he could no longer control him, and the hatred showed in his face.

  ‘Your precious little wife buggered off with another Gypsy if you must know. I wasn’t good enough for her. Yes, I had her, and why not, you were gone, and I believed you would never return. She could have stayed here with me in comfort and had a good life, but no, not her, not miss bloody high and mighty. She threatened me with a knife, told me she would cut my cods off while I slept. I was glad when she buggered off, slinking off into the night. I watched her go, hand in hand with a greasy, dirty Gypsy. She’s no loss to you, son, she would have let you down in the end, they all do.’

  Luke’s anger had not abated, he didn’t believe one word his father had said, apart from his admission he had forced himself upon her and that he could accept.

  ‘I’m not staying here, I would probably kill you if I did, I’ll put up at the inn over the road and be away come morning.’

  With that, Luke left the house, his father still lying on the floor. He made his way over to the pub and asked for a room, just for the one night. He needed to think through his next move and where to search for Bethany. Where could she have gone? He didn't believe for a moment she had gone off with someone else, it wasn’t in her nature. The fact she had left behind their token of marriage concerned him greatly; she must have been very scared to forego that precious item. The anger against his father re-kindled, and he attempted to drown it in ale.

  Luke didn’t move from the inn for the rest of the day, he sat in a corner drinking on his own, mindless of the stares directed at him by the locals. They were well aware of the circumstances which had led to his disappearance for so long and had wondered what had become of his pretty wife. They knew Seth would have made a play for her; his reputation was well known.

  It was late in the evening and Luke was well into his cups, he could hardly keep upright at the table and didn’t notice the arrival of several soldiers until they caught hold of him. He swung at them drunkenly until a pistol stock delivered a knockout blow, leaving him sprawled across the table.

  Luke was bundled into a cart, and the procession of soldiers marched off into the night. No one left the inn to watch; it was an all too familiar scene, they merely carried on as if nothing untoward had happened.

  There was one onlooker, however. Seth watched from the corner of the house, hidden in shadow as his son was taken away by soldiers for the second time. He had made the journey to Upper Marston and informed the magistrate that he considered it his duty to report his son, who he believed was now living the life of a Gypsy and causing trouble to the local folk. He was lazy and a drunkard, Seth swore he could do nothing with the boy since he had taken up with Gypsies some two years since.

  He watched now as his remaining son was carried away, heading South. The smile which touched his face was not from happiness; rather it was a look of relief.

  Chapter 20

  Luke was escorted down the road for the second time in two years having no idea what had transpired at the bakery after his first capture.

  Seth had held his daughter-in-law by the wrists as she struggled to run to her husband. Bethany couldn’t see Luke but somehow knew he would be there, a prisoner. The soldiers marched noisily past the bakery, a cart in their midst. Seth was talking, his mouth close to her ear,

  ‘It’s no use; you’ll do no good by running to him, they'll just take you as well, another Gypsy to add to their score.’

  But he had to hold her securely until long after the soldiers had disappeared into the distance. Finally, he released her, and her shoulders slumped in defeat at the realisation that not only had she seen her father shot and killed but her husband was now a prisoner for the second time and she never even had the chance to see or talk to him. They had been apart for two long years, and when she heard his muffled voice in the bakery, her heart had soared.

  Bethany had been locked up at the rear of the bakery behind the oven. The room was isolated, and its existence unknown to most, even Luke had long since forgotten about it. Seth had made it reasonably comfortable for her except that she was chained up and could not leave. The door, made from thick oak planks was almost sound proof and when she was confined, Seth made her wear a ‘scold’, a contraption made of iron which fitted completely over her head with a thin flat piece of metal over her tongue, making it impossible to speak or cry out. She was only allowed out in the dead of night to work in the bakery, chained to an iron ring set in the floor. At all other times, she was locked away. Seth would take her food and water, removing the scold so she could eat and drink and quite often force himself upon her before making her secure in the scold once more. Nobody knew she was there, Seth had told everyone she had left soon after Luke had been taken by the soldiers the first time. Now, two years later, she was still to be denied her husband.

  ‘Where’s Luke? Where is my husband?’ She yelled at him.

  Seth hit her a ba
ckhanded blow to the face which felled her to the ground.

  ‘Gone, he’s gone with the soldiers and won’t escape this time. They’ll send him to the colonies; he will never return from there, nobody ever comes back.’

  His blood was up now, and he looked down at her with a mixture of pure hatred and lust. His son had risked everything to come back to his precious wife, even giving his father a beating. Well, Luke was gone now, and his lovely wife was completely at his mercy. Seth bent down and fetched her another stinging blow to the side of the face, drawing blood from the corner of her beautiful mouth. He tore at her clothes in a frenzy of passion and hatred. Passion because he loved and desired her like no other and hatred because he knew she despised him.

  He looked down at her naked body and felt himself stirring. Seth was salivating at the mere thought of coupling with her again and kicked her legs apart. She knew it was pointless to resist, every time she did so he beat her and threatened to mark her face. Now Bethany lay motionless knowing what to expect. The sight of him drooling disgusted her and when he dropped his breeches to expose his rigid penis, she closed her eyes and held them tightly shut. He knelt between her legs and forced himself into her, labouring furiously with his foul breath assailing her nostrils. Holding her breath was the only way she could avoid retching.

  Seth rose to his feet and looked down on her, she with her eyes still tightly closed and wished with all his heart that she could love him as she did his son, but he knew that would never come to pass. He kicked her legs roughly, ordering her to get up and dress, the metal scold ready to place over her head and at the same time attaching the chain around her ankle to the ring set into the floor. She would work out the rest of the day preparing the ingredients for yet more breadmaking. The rough floor had left indentations on her back when his weight had been full on her, and she put her hands behind her in an attempt at coaxing some relief from the pain. Seth spoke soothingly,