Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  She lifted her head. ‘I know what sort of bargain I’ve got, Joe. I’ve got a man I love and respect and desire.’ She sighed. ‘I love you, Joe.’

  ‘Then why so sombre, is something worrying you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m just uneasy. I was upset by that scene in the street with Bert Cimla. Good thing Eynon was with me because the reaction of the townsfolk worried me, too. Why are they so hostile to us, Joe?’

  ‘They don’t understand me or my race,’ Joe said softly. ‘So they are suspicious, frightened by the unknown.’

  ‘But how could they believe you would kill anyone?’ She fell back against the pillow, her hair spreading around her. ‘Meggie’s death has angered the people of the town and their anger is directed towards us. It frightens me.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Firebird,’ Joe said, caressing her cheek. ‘Go to sleep, everything will seem better in the morning.’

  It was a long time before Llinos fell asleep. In spite of Joe’s reassurance she felt in her bones that life and destiny were hurtling towards her like stampeding horses and there did not seem to be anything she could do about it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘SO YOU SEE, Llinos, I feel it best to sell up, especially now that the offer has been increased.’ Eynon had asked Llinos to come for supper with him. He had made it clear he wanted to speak to her alone and so, tactfully, Joe had decided not to come along.

  Llinos was aware of Eynon looking at her across the dining table; the candles glowed on the polished wood and the silver sparkled as though it were encrusted with diamonds. Llinos felt sad at the prospect of losing Eynon as a neighbour; he had been more than that, of course, he had always been her good friend.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said softly. ‘You know how I’ve always loved being with you.’

  Eynon sighed. ‘But, alas, you never loved me. Well, now it’s time to move on. I’ve had enough of the pottery, it never was really my ambition to remain in control of it.’

  He paused and turned his glass round in his fingers so that the wine glinted like rubies in the candlelight.

  ‘The only reservation I have about selling the pottery is that Samuel’s son is part of the consortium making the offer for it. I had no idea he was wealthy enough to put in any sort of stake in the place.’ He sighed. ‘Apart from that, I just don’t like the man. I’m not sure even now that the sale will take place. Trusting Saul Marks is a bit like building a house on shifting sand.’

  ‘Well, just be careful, make sure the paperwork is all in order,’ Llinos said. ‘Just because you don’t like the man you mustn’t let that stop you. If you really want to sell up, then do it.’

  Eynon reached across the table and touched Llinos’s hand. ‘Anyway, enough of business, this is really my opportunity to say goodbye to you, properly.’

  ‘I know.’ Llinos left her chair and moved quickly around the table to put her arms around her dear friend. ‘It’s not really goodbye, though, is it? You won’t be moving far away, will you?’ She felt a tremor of something she could not quite put a name to. Eynon had been part of her life for a very long time, an important part of her life, and she would be lost without him.

  He hugged her and dropped a light kiss on her hair. ‘If ever you need me, I’ll come running, my dear Llinos.’ His voice was muffled. ‘Now, I’d better take you home.’

  She looked up at him and smiled. ‘Yes, I think you’d better otherwise I might just start blubbing!’

  As Llinos walked, arm in arm with Eynon, across the ground between the potteries, she heard sounds of voices from the row. She lifted her head, trying to see in the darkness.

  ‘Strange, there’s quite a gathering outside your gate,’ Eynon said. ‘I can see that fool Cimla there, he’s shouting the odds about something.’ He led her inside the gate and paused at the door.

  ‘I won’t come in, Llinos, say farewell to Joe for me.’ He disappeared into the darkness and Llinos stood for a few minutes, staring up at the sky, wondering where Eynon would go. She watched the moon slide from between the clouds and then, in the silence, she heard Bert Cimla’s voice as clearly as though he were standing next to her.

  ‘It’s about time we all took action,’ he was shouting. ‘Listen now, the foreigner is a murderer, he practices the evil arts. You only have to ask Lily here; the girl is so frightened that she’s left her job rather than stay near that man and his whore of a wife for a day longer. Soon you will all lose your jobs; you will be thrown out without a penny’s pay; they’re already planning to sell the place to my friend Saul Marks. Ask around if you don’t believe me. Now are you going to do something about it? Are you men or cowards?’

  Llinos spun round on her heel and walked back through the gates into the row. ‘Don’t listen to this man!’ she called. ‘He’s a fool and a drunkard. We are not selling up at all, he’s talking about the Tawe Pottery. As usual Bert Cimla has got his facts wrong. Now get away from here before I take my father’s musket to you!’

  ‘Liar!’ a voice called. But slowly the men began to disperse. Bert Cimla looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ he said and spat at the ground before walking away.

  Trembling now, Llinos made her way back to the house. Bert Cimla was a fool and the workers were worse than fools for listening to him. None of them seemed to remember that Cimla had been a cruel, grasping man. He had killed Llinos’s mother and, though it was never proved, he had left the town under a cloud. Now the pottery workers were listening to his nonsense, allowing Cimla to turn them against the very people who paid their wages.

  ‘Harlot!’ Cimla shouted as a parting shot, and trembling, Llinos went into the house and closed the door, bolting it securely behind her. As she stood in the hall, she clasped her hands together and, suddenly, she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life.

  It was barely light when Llinos woke to a sound that became louder until it reached a crescendo. At first she could not pinpoint the noise, it was animal-like, inhuman, but it was human. Joe was standing at the window, magnificent in the dawn light, his naked body gleaming, his hair hanging darkly against his spine.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, clutching the bedclothes around her. ‘What’s happening, Joe?’

  ‘There’s a crowd outside,’ Joe said. ‘I don’t know—’ He ceased talking abruptly as a crashing of glass echoed through the house.

  Llinos slipped quickly out of bed and pulled on her clothes. Her worse fears were being realized: the mob was outside her doors baying for blood, Joe’s blood.

  Joe was dressed before her and he left the room, taking the stairs in quick bounds. Llinos followed as quickly as she could, her heart in her mouth. She looked down into the hallway and saw the servants gathered there, staring wide-eyed in fright as Joe approached them.

  She hurried down the few remaining stairs. ‘Go back to your work,’ Llinos said as calmly as she could. Another stone crashed through the window and, as though galvanized into action, Cook turned and ran along the passage towards the back of the house followed by the maids.

  Joe opened the front door and a clod of earth hit his chest. Behind him Watt was hurrying down the stairs into the hallway. ‘What’s going on here?’ he cried as he reached the front door.

  ‘Get back, Watt,’ Joe said.

  ‘No,’ Watt said. ‘You can’t tackle that lot alone!’

  Joe himself stood on the step and looked around him at the baying crowd. The breeze lifted his hair and the sun slanted across his cheeks so that he looked more foreign and more wonderful than Llinos had ever seen him.

  ‘Watt!’ Llinos spoke urgently, drawing Watt back into the shadows of the hall. ‘Try to get over the wall to Eynon’s place. Tell him to fetch some men.’

  ‘I can’t leave you alone,’ Watt said desperately.

  ‘Go, please, it’s our only chance.’ Llinos pushed him towards the drawing room. ‘Get out of the window, climb over the wall there, no-one will see you then
.’

  Watt hesitated for a moment longer and then climbed out into the garden. Llinos returned to the hall just as a scream rent the air. Charlotte was hurrying down the stairs, her frail body tense, her eyes wide.

  ‘Joe, help me!’ she cried. ‘Saul is here, he’s climbed through our bedroom window. There’s another man with him, they’re trying to hurt Sam!’

  Joe turned as though uncertain and Llinos took the opportunity to slam the door and bolt it. ‘You’re needed in here, go help Sam,’ she said.

  She held Charlotte in her arms and tried to calm her. Events were happening so swiftly it was difficult to think clearly. ‘My father’s musket,’ Llinos said, ‘I must fetch it.’

  She heard the sound of retching from upstairs and Charlotte gave Llinos an agonized glance. ‘Please God, help him. Don’t let them kill Sam.’

  Llinos stood uncertainly, wondering if she should rush upstairs to help Joe or fetch her father’s gun.

  Then it was too late to do anything. The door was hammered and abruptly, with a splintering of wood, it crashed inwards.

  ‘There she is!’ A voice cried, Bert Cimla’s voice. ‘The murdering Indian’s woman. Let’s get her.’

  Llinos pushed Charlotte behind her and stood facing the angry mob. The hallway was suddenly full of men wielding pick handles, tree branches, pitchforks, anything that would serve as a weapon.

  ‘Oh, God help us!’ Charlotte cried.

  ‘Where is he?’ Cimla snarled. ‘Where is the Indian?’

  Lily pushed her way forward, her face was white, her features contorted with anger. ‘You’re not so uppity now, are you, madam?’ she said.

  ‘Get out of my house.’ Llinos spoke in a hard, cold voice. Lily flinched and hesitated and then Bert Cimla pushed her out of the way.

  ‘Tell us where the Indian is.’ His face was ugly. He caught Llinos roughly by the arm and shook her. ‘Tell me, or it will be the worse for you!’ She stared at him defiantly and he twisted her arm behind her back. Llinos could not help herself, she cried out with pain. Bert Cimla, his eyes narrowed, spittle coming from between his thick lips, shook her again.

  There were more cries from upstairs and a door was banged violently. Bert gestured for some of the men to go up to the bedroom. ‘We’ll do for him,’ he said. ‘The Indian is a dead man.’

  ‘No!’ Llinos said desperately. ‘Joe has done nothing wrong, leave him alone.’

  ‘We’ll leave him alone when we’ve finished with him.’ Cimla was smiling unpleasantly. ‘Now we’ll deal with you, madam,’ he said maliciously. It was Charlotte who spoke up, her voice quivering with fear.

  ‘You’d better get out of here,’ she said. ‘Watt Bevan’s gone for help. There’ll be men here soon, men with guns. Look out there if you don’t believe me, Watt’s just climbed over the wall.’

  Cimla stared through the drawing room at the open window leading out to the garden. ‘Bastard!’ he said venomously.

  ‘I’ll have to move fast, then.’ He looked triumphantly at Llinos. ‘I’m going to take you out and hang you from the nearest tree, it’s only what you deserve, you bitch!’

  ‘Joe!’ Llinos gasped for breath; fear was crushing her, fear for Joe more than for herself. She was hustled outside into the dawning sunlight, blinking the tears away, her heart hammering.

  ‘Joe! Where are you?’ She tried to twist away but Bert Cimla held her fast as he rummaged in his baggy pockets and brought out a rope with a noose already tied at one end of it. He had come prepared.

  ‘Hey, mun, don’t go too far, now.’ It was one of the potters who made the protest. ‘I don’t mind punishing the Indian but Mrs Mainwaring is a lady, mind.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ It was Lily who spoke from the edge of the crowd. ‘She was in the plan to murder her father, wanted his money, didn’t she? And poor Meggie, she must have found something out because she’s dead too, killed by the Indian’s medicine. How many others are going to die before you do something? Are you men or mice?’

  Llinos felt her hands being twisted behind her back. She was dragged towards a stout oak tree and the rope was thrown over the nearest branch. Behind her she could hear Charlotte screaming for help.

  ‘Someone get a horse from the stable,’ Bert Cimla shouted. ‘Let’s do this job properly.’ As Bert Cimla slipped the noose around her throat, she felt the roughness of the rope against her skin. He looked at her, his eyes dark with malice.

  ‘I’m going to have my revenge at last,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It’s taken me a long time but I shall see you hang.’ She was hoisted onto a horse and the creature whinnied with fear.

  Suddenly a voice called out from the back of the crowd. ‘Bert Cimla is mad!’ Celia-end-house pushed her way forward. ‘Have you all forgotten that it was he who murdered Gwen Savage? Killed her stone dead in her own house. Are you going to let him murder the captain’s daughter as well?’

  ‘The old woman is right. We’ll all feel the cut of the rope ourselves if we don’t stop this.’ One of the workmen turned away. ‘I want nothing to do with no hanging.’

  The voices of the men rose in dissent, men quarrelled with each other and a fist fight broke out at the edge of the crowd. In the confusion Bert Cimla slapped the horse hard on the rump. The animal reared in fright, threatening to throw Llinos. She managed to hang on, her knees gripping the horse’s flanks. Bert lashed out again, the terrified horse bolted and there was nothing Llinos could do.

  She felt a sharp jolt as the noose at her throat tightened. The blood rushed to her head, darkness was closing in on her. She tried to drag air into her tortured lungs. She was going to die. Her legs kicked uselessly in the air and then everything went dark.

  ‘The mob are up at Llinos’s house, you’ll have to come at once!’ Watt had woken Eynon Morton-Edwards, roused him from his bed. ‘They are out of control, the only thing they’ll understand is the sound of a musket.’

  ‘I’ll get up there straight away.’ Eynon dressed hurriedly, his shirt collar awry. ‘You get some of my men together and follow me, right?’

  Watt nodded and as Eynon took his musket from the cupboard he sighed with relief. Llinos would be safe now. He rushed into the huge yard where the workers were standing in groups, wondering what the noise was all about. Watt waved his hands at them.

  ‘Mr Morton-Edwards wants you all up at Pottery Row,’ he called. ‘There’s trouble and he’s gone ahead to sort it out.’

  Some of the men murmured between themselves, reluctant to take any part in what did not concern them. ‘Go on, move!’ Watt called.

  Maura came out of the house. ‘The boss is in danger,’ she called to the men. ‘Are you just going to stand there and let Mr Morton-Edwards face a mob alone? Are you cowards, the lot of you? Are you still taking your mother’s milk like little babies? Do you want me, a woman, to lead the way?’

  Shamed, the men began to move towards the row and Maura caught Watt’s arm. ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said.

  ‘You’d better stay here, Maura,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

  She smiled, her face alight. ‘And I don’t want anything to happen to you.’ He embraced her swiftly and then, hand in hand, they followed the workers towards Pottery Row.

  There were flashes of light against her eyes and Llinos became aware that she was lying on the ground. She tried to move, she was gasping, dragging the sweet air into her heaving lungs. She looked up to see Joe standing protectively over her, his face a mask of anger. In his hand was a knife, his clothes were torn away from the golden skin of his chest. His teeth and eyes gleamed. He looked every inch an Indian warrior.

  ‘You treat me like a savage and I will act like a savage.’ He thrust the knife towards Bert Cimla, cutting a slash in the man’s cheek. ‘Come on, you were so brave when it came to killing a woman. What will you do with me, you scum of the earth?’

  The crowd fell back, staring at Joe as if unable to believe their eyes. Llinos edged herself against the t
ree, trying to recover her breath. Her throat burned like fire, her wrists were bleeding from the bite of the rope, but she was alive.

  ‘Murderer!’ It was Lily who screamed the word. ‘Kill him, don’t let him get away with it!’

  Joe balanced silently from foot to foot, protecting Llinos, daring any man to come near. Saul Marks came towards him brandishing a thick branch. ‘Get him! He’s just tried to kill my father!’ he called. No-one moved. ‘I’ll kill you myself then.’ Saul’s voice carried little conviction.

  ‘Stop this!’ The voice sounded loud in the silence. ‘Listen to me, all of you.’ Samuel was stumbling forward, clinging to Charlotte’s arm for support. ‘Saul Marks is lying to you!’ It was an effort for Samuel to speak, he was trembling visibly. ‘It was he who tried to kill me, my own son.’

  Saul gave a bellow of rage and lifted his arm threateningly, the thick branch poised to strike.

  A musket shot blasted out silencing the sudden roar from the crowd. Saul staggered and then fell to the ground and lay still. Lily began to scream like a banshee, falling on her knees beside her lover.

  Llinos struggled to sit up, she rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe the mists away. Eynon, musket in hand, stood facing the mob. Behind him was a crowd of his men armed with sticks.

  ‘Get out of here,’ Eynon said. ‘Every man jack of you. You are a murdering, gullible band of no-good villains. If I see you around here again, I’ll shoot on sight.’

  Bert Cimla began to whine. ‘This is none of my doing, it was him.’ He pointed to Saul’s still body. ‘He made me do it, said he’d pay me well. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.’

  ‘Save it for the judge,’ Eynon said and nodded to his men. ‘Take him away, we’ll deal with him later. You, Watt, fetch the constable, tell him what’s happened here and why I was forced to shoot a man. As for the rest of you, go home if you don’t want to see the inside of a courthouse.’

  Eynon knelt beside Llinos. ‘Are you hurt?’ He glanced over his shoulder at Joe. ‘That’s a stupid question. I can see your husband frightened the lot of them and I’m not surprised; the way he looks at the moment he’d frighten anyone!’