Murkmere

by Patricia Elliott

  They had come into the room.

  I heard Dog scurry around, heard her exclaim at the cabinets, at the great window-door. She’d never been here before; she’d never trespassed like me.

  Then her head came over the top of the armchair. She saw me at once. Her little eyes gleamed with triumph, and she opened that prissy mouth of hers to tell. I shook my head violently, pleadingly; put my finger to my lips. My eyes, agonized, stared up into hers.

  “She’s here, Sir,” called Dog. “She’s over here.”

  I tucked my amber away and stood up.

  Dog’s face was full of spite, the steward’s expressionless. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or indifferent that I was there, in a forbidden place.

  “You may go, Doggett,” he said. “I’ll deal with this.”

  “Did I do well to tell you, Sir?” smirked Dog.

  “Very well. But leave us now.”

  She tripped out, all smug, twinkling smiles; I heard her hobnailed boots slow on the stairs, then clang merrily across the stone of the ground floor as she went on her way to tell the other servants.

  I spread my hands out to Mr. Silas. “I wanted to read the books, Sir; I wanted to see them for myself.”

  “And what did you find?”

  The changing light moved over his face. Even in that strong light he was handsome. He wore no hat, as if he’d left in haste, and his dark hair fell free and unpowdered across his brow in its glossy black curve, so like a black-bird’s wing.

  “I found the books were locked away,” I said, shamefaced.

  He came nearer, his cloak sweeping over the floor behind him; the fur at the hem was draggled with snow. He looked down at me gravely; he didn’t seem so very angry. “And why do you think that is?”

  “They’re old and fragile, Sir.”

  “Because they are dangerous, Agnes. You don’t know how close you came to sullying your soul.”

  I was bewildered, and frightened too. Why should books be dangerous? I smelled the scent of his flower water, faint but growing stronger now he was near.

  “B-but the Master reads them. So does Miss Leah,” I stammered.

  “These books contain blasphemies, they tell of a time before this land was civilized by the Ministration, when men walked the night unprotected, exposed to evil. They describe the old, bad time, Agnes; they make wicked conjecture in the fields of theology and philosophy.”

  I gazed at him, shocked.

  “I’ve tried to persuade the Master to destroy them.” Silas Seed shook his head. “He becomes angry and I worry he’ll have another seizure, so I say nothing more. But in time this place will destroy itself, anyway.” He gestured toward the stairwell, visible through the open door. “The bricks are soft, the supports half-rotten with damp. One day the tower will simply collapse inward, and the books will be buried beneath the rubble.”

  He spoke calmly, without feeling. Then he looked down at his hands in the light, studying their clean, white tips, turning them this way and that. “Did you discover anything else up here?” he asked softly, at last.

  I began to tremble again.

  In the same gentle voice, he said: “You can tell me, you know, little marigold. It won’t go further.”

  I relaxed a little. Aunt Jennet had taught me that only cowards lie to save their skins. “Yes, Sir, I did.”

  Softer still, he said, “And what was that?”

  I brought my hands to my face. “It was the skeleton of a great bird, Sir.”

  He was silent for so long I knew I’d done a truly terrible thing. There was only one bird whose skeleton would be so supernaturally vast. The hairs rose on my neck.

  He was very still, then he looked at me at last, his fine dark eyes full of sadness and reproach. “I’m disappointed in you, Agnes. You’ve committed a sin, you understand that?”

  “But I didn’t mean to,” I whispered. “Oh, please, Sir, forgive me.”

  He shook his head, wearily it seemed to me. “It’s not my forgiveness that matters, but forgiveness from above. You’ve an inquisitive, impulsive nature. I’d not realized that before. I believed you could set an example for Miss Leah. I thought I could rely on you.”

  I was filled with remorse at the sound of his sigh. “Oh, Sir, please, you can still do so! What should I do? Pray for forgiveness?”

  “Yes, indeed.” I waited, yearning to be back in his favor. Then he said, “Your aunt’s a God-fearing woman, I know. She’s Chief Elder in the village?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “It wouldn’t be right for her to hear of this.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “And no one else must know — no one here or in the village.”

  “I swear I won’t tell a soul!”

  “Then we’ll ask forgiveness for what you’ve done, pray together. Give me your hand.”

  I let him take my hand in his long, pale fingers; his grip was cool and strong. He began leading me toward the double doors. I shrank back.

  “Please, Sir! Not in there, I beg you!”

  “Here, then.” His voice had changed strangely. It was rough, thick, choked with emotion. “Come to me, you child of sin.”

  He dragged me back toward him. I was completely unprepared, still overcome by the thought of how I’d sinned. I lost my balance and fell against him as he pulled. His face was very close, looming above me. In the white cloud-light of that room his mouth was cruel, his hair no longer immaculate in its glossy blackbird arc: it hung, disheveled, over his face, untidy as the feathers of a carrion crow. Mixed with the flower perfume, now overpowering, was a sweet-sour smell as he breathed heavily into my face.

  He fumbled at the folds of my cloak, seeking a way to reach my bodice. “Take your amulet out. You must hold it while you pray. Here, let me do it for you.”

  I struggled to free my amber. But his hands were there already, like claws, ripping at the stuff of my bodice, tearing the lace.

  “Let go of her! Let go of her at once, do you hear?”

  It was Leah, straight and tall as a cold, white flame in her cloak. She had slipped silently through the doorway in her soft kid boots and now looked him up and down with a contemptuous fury.

  Mr. Silas had freed me as soon as he heard her voice, and I, gasping with shock, struggled to cover myself. He stood back, smoothing his hair into place and straightening the fur collar of his cloak. It was as if he’d straightened his face back into place as well: it was once more the charming, courteous face I knew.

  “You surprise us, Miss Leah. We thought we were alone.”

  “And this is how you behave when you’re alone with a maid?”

  “I endeavor to save all souls, whether they be those of maids or not, Miss Leah.”

  “I warn you, Silas.”

  “Of what do you warn me, Miss Leah?” he said smoothly, and he dusted his fingers together as if touching me had dirtied them.

  She paused, then turned away angrily and pointed at the doorway. “Get out! Leave us, go!”

  “As you wish, Miss Leah.” He bowed to her, but his eyes rested on me — with an expression of sorrow, I thought, though whether feigned or genuine, I wasn’t sure. A shiver ran down my back. Did he think me damned for what I’d seen?

  “Good day to you, and to your companion, Miss Leah.”

  Then with a swirl of his cloak he was gone, the wet hem leaving a dark, glistening trail on the wood floor.

  Leah said nothing until we both heard the door thud shut at the base of the tower. Then she rounded on me. “Fool!” she spat out. “How could you?”

  I was still trembling. I shook my head dumbly. I couldn’t understand how she could know that I’d opened the doors to the inner room, but I couldn’t understand anything, least of all how my noble Mr. Silas had turned into a monster.

  “You were lucky to escape,” Leah said grimly. “Last year Silas forced a kitchen maid. It was to save her soul, you understand. When she found she was with child and he wouldn’t acknowledge it — he was even
going to cast her out from the estate in shame — she drowned herself in the mere.”

  I stared at her. Her words didn’t make sense; I couldn’t take them in. “Mr. Silas?”

  “Mister Silas,” she mocked. “None other. The little maid, Scuff, saw him with her — what he did. No one but I believed her, poor child.”

  “He told me himself how the servant’s body was found,” I said in a low voice.

  “You would have been the next one, Aggie,” she said grimly. “Don’t you see that?”

  I sank down in the green-gold chair. I saw the pattern clearly now: the birds with bright wings that flew so joyously through the lush foliage. Silas, my handsome, elegant gentleman, who’d said such beautiful things to me, called me his marigold — I buried my face in my hands to shut out the light, and sat motionless.

  Leah left me to recover, and then it seemed even her hard, scornful heart was touched. She came over to me and said, gently for her, “Don’t take on so, Aggie. Maids have been taken in by his looks before. But he’s a dangerous man, and a clever one.”

  I was close to tears. “But his soul is pure, it must be! He takes Devotion, he wants to save our souls!”

  “Have you never heard of hypocrites, Aggie? He’s all high religious talk — it’s easy to be deceived — but if you were to uncover his soul, you’d be looking at a nasty little black thing, shriveled as a dead leaf. Stay away from him.”

  I raised my head and brushed a hand across my eyes. “I’m never going near him again, Miss Leah.”

  “What? Even on payday?”

  She smiled. To my astonishment I realized she was trying to cheer me, she who’d been so unkind. She curled her long limbs gracelessly into the chair opposite mine and regarded me with curiosity. “Did he ask you to meet him here?”

  I shook my head. “Dog must have told him I was here.” I glanced at her enquiring face and decided to tell the truth, or part of it. “I’d come to read the books.” I thought, If she asks me about the inner room, I’ll confess. I don’t care what happens to me now.

  But she didn’t; she looked astounded. “You risked coming here so you could read the books? Don’t you have books in the village?”

  “Not like these, Miss,” I said, surprised out of my misery. Did she know so little? “The books my aunt taught us from are dull things, the reading approved by the Council. No folk have books in our village. Most children leave school before they can read properly. People are too poor to lose their children to school, they need them to work.”

  I was reluctant to talk, but she kept asking questions, as if all the curiosity she’d kept inside since my arrival were finally bursting free. My misery lifted a little. I couldn’t believe that this was my cold, disdainful mistress.

  “I wanted to find out what real books were like.” I hesitated. “Mr. Silas says they are blasphemous.”

  “Fiddlesticks!” said Leah. “We should be free to discuss all sorts of different ideas from our book reading, not have them approved first by a Council, let alone a steward!”

  “But the Master’s library can’t be kept secret from the Lord Protector,” I said. “What will happen when he finds out?”

  She raised her eyes heavenward. “Don’t you know anything, ninny? Years ago, when the Protector married the Master’s sister, certain books were banned. But that was only the beginning. The Protector wanted the Master’s books out of the Hall, but he gave him special permission to have his books up here, providing they were locked up.” She gave a wicked smile. “Of course, the Protector doesn’t know I read them now.”

  “The Master gives you the freedom of the cabinets?” I said wistfully.

  “I keep the key for him. The Master’s rooms are never private; he can’t have any secrets there.” She reached into the pocket in her cloak and took out a small brass key, which sparkled in the light as she held it up to me. “He asked me about a book yesterday. That’s why I came just now — to look for it. I keep the key in my room, in an old pot. It had chamomile face cream in it once. Even if Dog found the key and guessed what it was for, she’d never dare unlock the cabinets.”

  “I won’t say anything to her, Miss.”

  “A companion should know her mistress’s secrets; that’s why I’m telling you. But if you tell anyone else, like your precious Mr. Silas, I’ll cut your throat, do you understand?” Her eyes blazed suddenly and I reeled back. “I’ll know if you do, and I keep a knife under my pillow. Remember that.”

  “I won’t say anything, Miss Leah,” I repeated faintly. I’d no doubt she’d carry out her threat.

  She looked bleakly toward the long window where the clouds were darkening, sending shadows into the room. “If only the Master would rid himself of Silas.”

  For a moment I felt his white hands on my bodice, and shivered. “You saved me, Miss. I should thank you.”

  She went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Silas’s father was steward to Mr. Tunstall’s father in the grand days of Murkmere, you know; that’s why Mr. Tunstall won’t get rid of Silas now. The old Master even paid for Silas to go to school in the Capital. He came back changed, they say. I was a tiny child wanting to play and he’d set butterflies on fire to tease me.”

  She was silent awhile, her face bitter. My own heart was bitter too. I wondered if it would ever recover.

  “That’s when I bit him!” said Leah suddenly. “On the right hand, it was. You notice he writes with his left now?” Her voice was gleeful. “The wound went septic. It took so long to heal he had to learn to write all over again, with his left hand.” She leaned closer and made a face at me. “He tasted of the dung heap!”

  I shuddered; I couldn’t speak for a while, looking at her chuckle to herself. “He asked me to watch you, Miss Leah,” I said at last. “It was spying he wanted, in truth.”

  She snorted. “Do you think I don’t know? At least you’re honest.”

  “But isn’t it your guardian’s wish? Isn’t that why Mr. Silas wants it?”

  “Gilbert Tunstall worries about my safety because he loves me. Silas Seed loathes me. I’ve no idea why he spies on me.”

  She began to stride around with her mouth turned down, touching her neck restlessly and easing the collar of her cloak as if it choked her. Finally she flung round to stare at the window. “I hate this aerie of my guardian’s, though I’ve never told him. There’s all that sky outside, but it’s shut away. I can’t breathe.”

  “A strange place for a library,” I said. I could tell from the sharp glance Leah gave me that she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  “The Master wanted to be near the clouds. When I was small he’d come alone and watch them for hours.” She sucked her cheeks in. “I know it’s impractical, mad. The cost of strengthening this floor, then constructing the lift, nearly bankrupted the estate. All the pieces of the pulley system are welded separately. He cut down some of the Murkmere oaks to build the stairs.” She sighed. “But he was determined to do it. He has a strong will.”

  I watched the clouds beyond the glass piling on each other, thick as curdled cream. What strange compulsion would draw a man to watch them alone, suspended between heaven and Earth, day after day?

  When I looked back at her, Leah was studying me with her piercing gray eyes, an odd expression on her face.

  “There’s another reason my guardian used to come. There’s something he keeps here. And I think you know what it is.”

  VIII

  Great Bird

  The pointed to the floorboards by the double doors, where there was a muddle of dirty footprints, now dry, left by the melting snow from my boots. I felt my cheeks go hot.

  She was grinning at me, pleased with her keen eyesight. I couldn’t tell if she was angry yet or not; it was like that with Leah. Sometimes her rage boiled slowly.

  “It’s no secret,” she said. “Silas knows what’s in that room, and so do the footmen, Jukes and Pegg, but none of the other servants come here alone. They’re forbidden, but anyway they wou
ldn’t come. They think the tower’s damned because of the books, and they’ve probably heard what else is up here.”

  “I’ll be damned, Mr. Silas says,” I whispered. “Oh, Miss, I’m sorry. I wish I’d never seen it.”

  She looked at me blankly. “Damned? What on Earth are you talking about?”

  Frightened again, I pointed dolefully at the doors. “The image of the Almighty.”

  She let out a howl of laughter. “You poor goose.”

  She caught hold of my hand, dragging me with her, ignoring my terrified protests. She leaned her weight against the doors of the inner room and they burst open.

  “Now, look,” she commanded, and gripped my hand so fiercely I couldn’t run. At that moment I was almost more frightened of her contempt if I did so than of the thing that floated in the air above us.

  “It was never alive,” said Leah. She looked at me, pitying yet amused. “It’s made of wood.”

  In the light that came through the doors I could see that it was suspended by thin cords, inside a frame that was almost invisible. “Touch it, go on,” urged Leah.

  I felt a smooth-grained texture that was warm under my fingers. It swung slightly from its taut cords as I touched it, the pale wood gleaming in the light. The outstretched wings were covered with linen, not skin after all; the frame was made from thin bands of the same wood.

  “But what is it, Miss?”

  “It’s a flying machine,” she said, with a sort of triumph.

  “You mean — a man could fly in it?”

  “That’s the whole point of it, silly,” she said impatiently. “My guardian had it constructed before his last illness, from diagrams in an old book. The carpenters were frightened to make it at first, because of the blasphemy, but he paid them well.” She turned to me and her breath came faster. “This contraption can glide on air, Aggie, it can take its pilot soaring through the sky. Isn’t it our dream to fly like the birds?”