by R. S. Ford
‘Where are you off to?’
Livia stopped at the sound of Ben’s croaky voice. So much for not drawing attention.
She turned to see him standing in the doorway of the cottage, nightgown down to his knobbly knees, what little hair he had left mussed up atop his head in a white brush.
‘I’m out for the day,’ she replied, as though daring him to question her.
Ben just stared back, a look of sorrow on his face that made her almost feel sorry for him, until he said, ‘All right then.’
That only made her more furious. He should have at least asked what she was up to so she could tell him to mind his own bloody business.
‘Don’t you want to know where I’m going and who with?’
Ben shook his head slightly. ‘I reckon that’s your own affair.’
‘Just don’t bloody care, do you?’ she snapped. ‘Don’t bloody care about anything. Like you didn’t care about old Bett.’
Ben’s gaze drifted to the ground. ‘Weren’t nothing could be done about that,’ he said quietly.
‘Like hell.’ She almost shouted the words. ‘There was plenty could be done by anyone with enough guts to say something.’
‘And what would you have me do, girl?’ Ben seemed to have found some fire from somewhere that almost shocked Livia. ‘Take on the tallymen on my own? You stand up to the tallymen and you’re standing up to Duke Gothelm himself. I’m just one old man, and you’re a slip of a girl. Weren’t nothing to be done.’
‘What about the one you knew? What was his name? Randal? You could have made him see reason.’
Ben shook his head, looking sorrowful. ‘Randal’s not the boy he was. If there was ever a time he could be reasoned with it’s well in the past.’
Livia’s fists were clenched in frustration. She wanted to go on at Ben but she knew it wasn’t his fault. He was talking sense and she knew it. She should have said sorry for shouting, should have told him she was just angry with herself because of the injustice of it all. Instead she turned and walked away from the farm as quick as she could. Ben said nothing to her as she went.
The day was bright enough to calm her a little by the time she got to Crow’s Cross. She was still angry, but seeing Mara and Gilly waiting by the old milestone helped her forget what had happened and think about what was to come.
‘Hello there, Livia Harrow,’ said Mara with a big grin.
Gilly didn’t say anything, just offered a smile, blue ribbons in her red hair flapping in the breeze.
‘Hello, you two,’ Livia replied. She tried on a smile of her own and found it was easier than she’d thought it would be. Maybe this was the best thing for her after all, to take her mind off the guilt.
They spoke for a while of the weather and the usual farm gossip. Not one of them mentioned old Bett or what might have become of her and they didn’t have to wait long before the three boys arrived.
Cal led the way, striding up all tall and windswept, and Livia found she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he approached. She barely noticed the Brunner boys, Mack and Jock, as they brought up the rear. They were big, broad-shouldered farm stock, just like Cal, but neither was anywhere near as handsome. It was well known they fought one another like cat and dog, and the years of brawling had given them both faces to prove it.
‘Shall we?’ said Cal as he arrived.
‘We shall,’ said Mara, moving forward and taking his arm before he had a chance to offer it to any of them. For all her bluster the day before about making sure Livia didn’t end up a crusty maid, Mara was certainly making sure Cal paid her some attention. But then, Mara was prone to flirtation. It shouldn’t have bothered Livia one bit – after all, she wasn’t interested in Cal. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she followed with Gilly, the Brunners taking up the rear, one of them slapping the other on the arm as they went.
The six of them walked up the hill to Canter’s Point. The sun was bright but the breeze took the heat out of it. Before Livia knew it they’d reached the crest and could see the massive old oak standing there.
Cal unpacked the bag he carried over one shoulder and Livia saw he’d stuffed it with fruit, cheese and a meat pie. He had also purloined two bottles of wine from somewhere. One of the Brunners unfurled the blanket he carried and they all sat in the shade of the oak.
The conversation flowed and Livia found herself laughing often. They each took turns swigging from the wine bottles and before long they were empty. Mara sat closest to Cal, and Livia found herself growing quite envious. As much as she hated herself for it she couldn’t help but stare in admiration at him.
Evening came all too quickly and a chill steadily crept into the air. The Brunner boys became increasingly boisterous with one another until Livia knew she’d had enough. Whatever designs she might have had on Cal had clearly been usurped by Mara and so she stood, ready to announce she was heading home.
‘Are you going?’ said Cal, rising to his feet.
Mara was stopped mid-sentence and she looked up at him, clearly offended.
‘It’s getting late,’ Livia replied. ‘I have to get back before dark.’
‘I’ll walk you,’ Cal said before anyone else could say goodbye to her, or either of the Brunners offered in his stead.
Livia shook her head, seeing the sudden look of anger on Mara’s face.
‘It’s fine, Cal, really. I’ll be home before nightfall.’
‘But I insist,’ said Cal, walking forward to stand beside her. ‘Boys. Make sure Mara and Gilly get home safe.’
Before Livia could protest further Cal placed a hand on her back and led her down the hill. She glanced over her shoulder as they went, in time to see Mara glaring as Gilly twirled her ribbons for the Brunner brothers.
They walked some way in silence, Cal close beside her as though she might need guarding from the dark. His arm occasionally brushed against hers and she tried her best to ignore it and convince herself she didn’t like him. But then she’d wanted Cal Redfen from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.
The fact that she hated her attraction to him didn’t change it. Cal Redfen had all the depth of a puddle. He was pretty and dumb, so why did she find him so attractive?
‘So… you and Mara seemed to be getting along,’ she said, sick of the uncomfortable silence.
Cal smirked. ‘Mara’s a silly girl,’ he said as they came to a fence. A stile was cut into the centre of it and Cal began to help her over.
‘She comes across that way,’ said Livia. ‘But she’s very clever really. She can read at least.’
‘Being clever is more than just book reading and numbers,’ he said as he climbed over behind her. ‘She’s silly in the head. I want someone with some sense.’
He looked at her and grinned at the gobsmacked expression on her face. It looked like Cal Redfen had some depth after all, but Livia couldn’t bring herself to say anything in reply.
They crossed a bridge over a shallow stream as the sun began to drop toward the horizon. As they reached the centre, Cal took her hand gently.
‘I’m talking about you, Livia Harrow,’ he said.
She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. ‘How romantic, Cal Redfen. It’s not that I’m beautiful or have the manners of a princess. I’m sensible? Quick, let me ask old Ben’s permission to marry.’
Cal looked embarrassed. ‘No, that’s not what I meant either.’ He moved closer. ‘Of course I think you’re beautiful. I’m no good with words but…’
Livia almost giggled at his clumsiness, until he began to move closer. His head dipped, his eyes closed and before she knew it he was kissing her. His lips were shut tight at first but suddenly he opened them.
For a brief moment Livia experienced a jolt of panic, but as she felt his tongue against hers she found her own eyes closing and she reached up to put her arms around his neck. He gripped her tight about the waist, pulling her close and she could feel him hard within his trews. Any other day that would have made
her squeal and run for the hills, but not this day. Now it only made her heart beat faster as she pressed her lips harder against his.
Cal moved one hand down from her waist, his fingertips stroking her buttocks and then moving around to her upper thigh. She grasped him tighter, feeling the firmness of his body against her breasts. His left hand moved lower and she gripped the back of his neck with one hand, the nails of the other caressing his chest…
Black wings fluttered across her eyelids. Veined and leathered. Claws raked at white porcelain flesh, leaving lines of crimson in their wake. A flawless voice screamed. A howl from the gates of hell followed…
Livia opened her eyes. Cal was leaning back against the other side of the bridge, his head thrown back, mouth gaping open in a silent cry. In the twilight she could see his eyes had rolled back in his head and every inch of him shook fitfully.
‘Cal?’ she said, moving forward but too scared to touch his convulsing body. ‘Cal!’ she shouted, but he didn’t hear as a line of saliva dripped from his open mouth.
Livia ran in a panic. She had to get help. Had to reach Ben; he’d know what to do. He always knew what to do.
Her feet clattered across the bridge then padded through the grass. She sprinted in the dark, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The memory of a nightmare flitted through her head as she ran. In every shadow something waited with dark wings and blood in its eyes.
Livia crossed a shallow stream, stumbling at the opposite bank, her skirt drenched as she clawed her way up. When she crested the rise she saw a tree silhouetted in the dark. She made to run past but what she saw hanging from it made her stop, a cry of anguish caught in her throat.
Bett hung by her neck, the rope that held her there creaking in the breeze. The old woman stared blankly, tongue sticking out from one side of her mouth as though she had just tasted something vile.
Livia stood and stared, feeling her heart thundering in her chest before she managed to drag her eyes away and run the rest of the way back to the farm.
14
THE Redfen farm was only eight miles north of the Harrows’. Still, by the time Ben reached the gate sign identifying the place the old dray he rode was huffing with fatigue.
He dismounted, leading the horse down the path that led to the cottage standing at the centre of the farm. It was by far the biggest Ben had ever seen, but Morgen Redfen was said to be the best woodworker in the county. It was only natural he’d have the finest house. Not that Ben was envious of that; he’d never coveted what other men had, although if he admitted it to himself he was a little jealous of all Morgen’s pigs. Every farmer should have a pig. Morgen Redfen clearly abused the privilege.
Before he’d even tethered the dray to the rail, the door to the cottage opened. Molly Redfen stood on the threshold, as though guarding it, her eyes glaring at Ben like he’d come to do her and her kin harm. That was the last thing on Ben’s mind and he tried a smile and a nod of greeting to show it. Molly just glowered.
‘Good day, Molly,’ he said, walking up onto the porch. She stood there barring his way. ‘Is Morgen home? I think we need to speak.’
She opened her mouth, clearly not about to say anything nice, when a deep voice from inside said, ‘Is that Ben Harrow?’
Molly frowned, still staring at Ben.
‘Who do you bloody well think?’
‘Let him in then. Don’t leave the old geezer standing out in the cold all day.’
Reluctantly Molly moved aside and Ben walked in. Morgen Redfen sat at his kitchen table, spooning broth from a wooden bowl. The smell of it made Ben’s stomach grumble.
‘Been expecting you, Ben. Take a seat,’ Morgen said without looking up.
Ben took the chair opposite, keeping one eye on Molly in case she decided to grab a rolling pin, or something more lethal, and give him the good news with it.
‘Leave us, Mol,’ Morgen said before spooning more broth into his mouth. He was grizzled, maybe mid forties, and he ate with the same purposefulness as he farmed.
‘Leave you? Alone with this freak? Gods know what he and that witch have been brewing on their farm. I’ll not leave him—’
‘Get out, woman!’ Morgen shouted, broth spilling from his mouth.
Ben jumped at the sound. Everyone knew about Morgen Redfen’s temper. He was rarely crossed in the county and never by anyone twice. Not even his formidable wife.
Molly fell silent, wringing her hands on her apron before heading for the door.
Morgen sat for a moment, calming himself before he wiped broth from around his mouth with a cloth and ate another spoonful.
‘How’s Cal?’ Ben asked. Trying to sound as concerned for Morgen’s son as he was for himself.
Morgen still didn’t look up. ‘He’s fine.’ Then went back to spooning that broth.
Ben glanced around the Redfen kitchen. Everything was in its place. Everything meticulously cleaned. He felt more envy that his own small place wasn’t so tidy. The longer he sat there the more he felt like he was visiting with Duke Gothelm rather than a fellow farmer.
‘Look,’ said Ben. ‘We need to talk about—’
‘I know what we need to talk about,’ said Morgen, placing his spoon down by the empty bowl. ‘We need to talk about your girl.’ He picked up the cloth and wiped his mouth again.
‘Livia’s not sure what happened.’
Morgen regarded Ben blankly. ‘I’m sure she’s not.’
‘She slept for most of the day after she got home. Says Cal maybe had some kind of a fit.’
Morgen nodded slowly. ‘Yes. That would be one explanation for it.’
‘What did your boy have to say?’ Ben braced himself for the answer. Gods knew what Cal had said.
‘Not much. And when he’s been able to speak he’s wept.’ Morgen’s expression turned grave. ‘Do you know what that’s like, Ben? To have your boy crying like a girl?’ Ben shook his head. ‘He hasn’t cried since he was teething. And there he is weeping like the world’s ended.’
Ben glanced down at the table, cleaned and polished like the Redfens had been expecting nobility to come round.
‘It must have been a frightening thing for him. To have an affliction like that come on all of a sudden.’
Morgen stood, picking up the bowl and spoon and placing them next to a washbasin by the window.
‘An affliction? Cal Redfen with an affliction?’ He let that hang there.
‘It’s the kind of thing that could happen to anyone.’
‘Not my boy, Ben.’ Morgen turned to him, eyes blazing. The one on the left gave an unnerving twitch.
‘We’ve known each other a long time, Morgen,’ said Ben, trying and failing to sound like he wasn’t intimidated by Redfen’s rage. ‘I came here to—’
‘You came to see if I’d already told the tallymen about your girl.’
Ben stared at him, all hopes of not being intimidated fleeing like a craven from his body. That was pretty much the reason, though he hadn’t intended to say it. If there was the slightest rumour that Livia had been showing signs of magic they’d be shouting ‘witch’ from one end of the county to the other. Molly Redfen had already used the word. Ben needed to stamp out any spark of a rumour before the flames took and burned the Harrows’ farm down around their ears.
‘And have you?’ he asked.
Morgen gave a little snort of mirth through his nose, then returned to the table and took his seat.
‘We’ve known each other a lot of years, Ben. And when times were hard back in that grim winter I remember how we helped one another. It’s how things have always worked around here. Before Gothelm let his tallymen run rampant through every farm from Vallen Kale to the Eldreth border.’ He reclined in his seat and smiled. ‘I’m sure Cal’s affliction is only something mild. He’s a strong boy. He’ll be fine. No reason to get the tallymen all riled over it.’
Ben let out a sigh as silent as he could without showing Morgen how relieved he was.
‘I appreci
ate that,’ said Ben. ‘And I’ll take no more of your time.’
He stood, ready to leave, when the door to the kitchen opened. Ben was expecting Molly to come rushing in, railing about how this wasn’t good enough and how she’d cry ‘witch’ from every hill she could climb.
He wasn’t expecting Cal Redfen.
The boy’s eyes were drawn, his skin pale. He was stripped to the waist and Ben could see three scratches in a tight row on his chest as if a wolf had mauled him.
‘Hello, Cal,’ he said, when the boy appeared, not really knowing what else to say.
Cal didn’t give an answer. Just walked in and stared out of the window.
Morgen looked at him. Then at Ben. It was clear to anyone with eyes in their head that Cal was far from ‘fine’.
‘It’s misty in here,’ Cal said, as though he were locked in a dream while he wandered around awake. ‘But I can still see their wings. And the noise they make. So…’
Molly rushed in before either of the men could say a word, taking her son by the arm and leading him out. She shot Ben a hate-filled glance.
‘Thanks for coming round, Ben,’ Morgen said, opening the door hurriedly and letting some of the cold air in.
Ben felt that cold air chill him for a second before he thanked Morgen for taking the time to see him and walked out. The door slamming behind him was like a coffin lid shutting over him.
He could barely remember the ride back. The dray clopped along the path as Ben’s mind raced. The Harrow farmhouse appearing over the horizon was the only thing that brought him out of his stupor, and as soon as he saw it he urged the dray on to greater exertion.
Livia was waiting for him when he returned, her face careworn.
‘Well?’ she asked before Ben had even shut the door behind him. ‘What did he say?’
Ben looked at her, desperate to give good news – that they would be all right, that everything would be just as it was.
‘I spoke to Morgen. We go back a long way, he and I. He told me there was no need for the tallymen to find anything out.’