you've been here five months now."
"Don't exaggerate, dear. It's four and a bit."
"Are we the only guests?" said Hawk. "I can't believe we're the only Family come
to pay our respects to the MacNeil."
"There are other guests," said Jamie. "They're upstairs in their rooms at
present, but they'll be joining us for a late breakfast soon. We keep very
relaxed hours here, especially since the servants left. But it must be said
there aren't nearly as many Family here as one might have wished for."
"Why not?" asked Fisher bluntly.
The three MacNeils exchanged a quick glance. "I take it you've never heard of
the MacNeil Curse," said Jamie slowly. "Not really surprising, I suppose, buried
as you are in the depths of Lower Markham. It's not something we're proud of,
and we don't care to discuss it with outsiders. But since you are both Family,
and you've come all this way to be here… The Curse is the reason why so few have
come to pay their respects, even with the reading of the will to tempt them.
It's why the servants ran away, and why the Quality no longer accept invitations
to Tower MacNeil. Please, be seated, all of you, and I'll tell you of the secret
Shame of the MacNeils, and how it has come back to haunt us. I think it's time
for the truth."
Everyone found themselves chairs, and drew them up in a semicircle facing the
fireplace. Jamie stayed where he was, with his back to the fire, standing almost
to attention, with his hands clasped behind his back, so the others wouldn't see
them shaking. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even and very
controlled.
"Most people have heard something about the Curse of the MacNeils. That there is
a monster which haunts us, and has done for generations. There have been many
songs about it, and even one or two plays. Romantic fictions, all of them. We
don't object; they help conceal the reality behind the myth. There is a Secret
in our Family, handed down from father to eldest son alone, from generation to
generation.
"Long ago, in the days before proper records were kept, a child was born to the
MacNeils, to the head of the Family at that time. That child was the eldest son,
destined to continue the Family bloodline. Unfortunately, he was also horribly
deformed. He should have been killed at birth, but the MacNeil was a kind and
tender-hearted man. The creature was, after all, his son. Perhaps a cure could
be found. The MacNeil all but bankrupted the Family trying to find it, paying
for doctors and sorcerers and healers of all kinds, but no cure was ever found.
"The creature became increasingly violent, and eventually had to be put away,
for everyone's safety. The MacNeil took full responsibility for his awful son,
and none of the Family or servants ever saw it again. Finally, some years later,
the creature died, and everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The normal second son
became the eldest son, the bloodline continued through him, and everything
returned to normal.
"That is not the Secret. The songs and the romances and the plays are based
loosely on what I have just told you, and from those distorted stories come the
vague rumors that most people mean when they refer to the Curse of the MacNeils.
The Secret, handed down from father to eldest son, is very simple. The creature
did not die.
"The MacNeil had finally despaired of his monstrous son, and decided it should
die, to free the Family of its burden. He gave the creature poison to drink, and
walled up its room. He and the second son did the job themselves, rather than
risk bringing in workmen or servants who might have talked. And all the time
they labored with bricks and mortar, they could hear the creature pacing
restlessly back and forth in its cell. The poison did not kill it. Time and
again the MacNeil and his son returned to listen at the wall they'd built, but
though the creature had no access to food or water, still it lived. They could
hear it moving about in its cell, and sometimes scratching at the walls.
"Years passed. The MacNeil died, and later so did his son, but the creature
lived on. No one ever knew of its existence save the head of the Family and the
eldest son, the Secret passing from generation to generation to generation when
the son reached his majority. And so it went, down all the many years.
"Only this time, something went wrong. My father passed on the Secret to his
eldest son, my brother William. But William died just three weeks ago, in a
riding accident, and then my father was killed in a border clash, before he
could pass on the details of the Secret to me. I was able to piece together what
I've just told you from studying his papers after his death, but that's as far
as his notes go. Presumably there are other papers somewhere, prepared in case
of an emergency, but I've been unable to find them,. No doubt Dad would have got
around to telling me where they were, just in case… but who would ever have
thought he'd die so suddenly…"
Jamie stopped abruptly as his voice broke. Holly rose quickly from her seat and
moved forward to hug her brother's arm protectively.
"Is that why the servants left?" said Hawk. "Because the Secret got out?"
Jamie shook his head. "Not long after Dad died, the servants began seeing
things. A dark figure, padding through the corridors late at night, or in the
early hours of the morning. It always disappeared when challenged. I had the
Tower searched from top to bottom by my security people, but they never found
anyone. Then, things started to be broken. Vases, glasses, crockery. A chair was
found smashed to pieces. Noises were heard at night; something that might have
been screams, or laughter. My people began to leave, despite all I could offer
them in the way of money or reassurances.
"Even my security people wouldn't stay. They all thought it was the ghost of my
father, come back to haunt the Tower. Only I knew better. After all these years,
the creature had finally got out. Obviously some part of the Secret dealt with
how to keep it confined, and since I didn't know what to do… So far, it hasn't
been able to leave Tower MacNeil; the Tower's protective wards see to that."
"Why haven't you called in the city Guard?" asked Fisher. "Maybe their experts
could find the creature…"
"No!" said Jamie sharply. "This is Family business, and it has to stay within
the Family. If the Secret ever gets out, the whole world will know the MacNeil
Family is based on a lie. That all of us are descended from a second son. The
Quality would declare that we had betrayed our bloodline and inheritance, and
the MacNeils would be disgraced. Already there are rumors. That's why so few
Family have come to declare their fealty to me."
"Apart from us, who else knows the Secret?" said Hawk.
"Just Greaves, my immediate Family, and my other guests, so far."
"This… creature," said Fisher slowly. "Has it tried to hurt anyone?"
"Not so far," said Jamie. "But it is getting more destructive. Why? Do you want
to leave?"
Hawk smiled slightly. "I don't think so. Isobel and I don't scare easily."
Katrina stirred in her chair.
"I can't believe Duncan kept the Secret so long. I
had no idea… You're quite right, of course, Jamie. The Secret must never get
out. We would be ostracized in High Society. Now then, the creature undoubtedly
hides by day in the room that used to be its cell. Are you still unable to
locate it?"
"I'm afraid so." Jamie's brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair. "The
Tower is riddled with secret passages and sliding panels. I know some of them,
and Dad's papers revealed a few more, but I still haven't been able to find
where the creature is hiding. Presumably the room's location was part of the
Secret."
"This is crazy," said Fisher. "If this creature was walled up for centuries,
what kept it alive? Everything feeds on something…"
"I don't know," said Jamie. "But whatever the creature is, it's definitely not
human. Maybe it hasn't died because it can't…"
For a long moment, nobody said anything. The crackling of the fire seemed very
loud in the quiet.
"All this started because your father died unexpectedly," said Hawk finally.
"Just how did he die?"
Katrina looked at him sharply. "You don't know?"
"Word often gets garbled when it has to travel long distances," said Fisher
smoothly. "We want to make sure we've got it right."
"I was just wondering," said Hawk carefully, "if perhaps there had been
something unusual about your father's death… something that might give us a clue
as to how the creature got out of its cell, after centuries of confinement. I
mean, its room was supposed to have been bricked up. So, how did it finally get
out?"
"I see." Jamie nodded respectfully. "I hadn't thought of that. But no, there was
nothing suspicious about my father's death. He was killed in a skirmish with
Outremer troops up in the Northern borderlands. He shouldn't really have been
there, an officer of his rank. But there had been rumors of new troop movements,
and he wanted to see for himself. Dad was like that. Never really trusted
anyone's opinion but his own. Anyway, he was in the wrong place at the wrong
time, and he and his whole column were wiped out. Just another borderland
skirmish. There's been a number of them just recently. Men are dying up there
every day, just because our King and the Outremer Monarch can't agree on exactly
where the bloody border is. Good men dying for a line on a map… I'm sorry. But
it's hard not to be bitter sometimes. Dad was a good soldier. He deserved a
better end than this. But I don't see how it could have had anything to do with
the creature's escape."
"Did anything unusual happen here at the Tower, before the servants started
seeing and hearing things?" said Fisher…
Jamie thought for a moment. "I don't think so. I remember we were a bit
short-staffed for a while about then. A lot of the servants had been going down
with colds, but you expect that at this time of the year. A day off, and they
were back at work again."
"There's really nothing to worry about," said Katrina firmly. "You'll be quite
safe here, I assure you. There's no indication the creature's ever tried to hurt
anyone. That is right, isn't it, Jamie?"
"Yes, it is. But I felt it only fair you should all know what the situation is.
You see, before the will can be read, the Tower has to be isolated behind
protective wards for twenty-four hours. That's traditional."
"You mean, once the wards are up, no one can leave the Tower for a full day?"
said Hawk. "No matter what happens here?"
He and Fisher exchanged a quick glance.
"That's right," said Jamie. "But trust me, nothing's going to happen. If the
creature had meant any harm, it would have acted by now. AH those years of
imprisonment must have knocked the fight out of it."
"I'm sure you're right," said Fisher. "But you couldn't have known that, at the
beginning. In fact, it must have been pretty scary, especially when the servants
started leaving, rather than face whatever it was. So why did you stay? Wouldn't
it have been safer to evacuate the Tower?"
"This is my home," said Jamie. "Home to my Family for generations. I won't be
driven out of it."
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"Well," said Katrina brightly, "if all else fails, we can always call on the
Guardian!"
"Who?" said Hawk.
There was another, longer pause as the MacNeils looked at him strangely. Hawk
silently cursed. He knew he should have insisted on a full briefing. Nothing was
more likely to trip him and Fisher up than not recognizing some Family in-joke
or reference, and this was clearly one of them. Still, the harm was done now.
All he could do was try and face it down. He stared innocently back at Jamie and
Katrina. and noticed for the first time that Holly wasn't paying any attention
to the conversation. Instead, her eyes were far away, as though she were lost in
some world of her own. Then Katrina started speaking, and Hawk quickly switched
his attention back to her.
"You must have heard of the MacNeil Guardian," said Katrina, speaking slowly and
carefully, as though to a rather backward small child. "Perhaps you know him by
a different name. The Guardian is one of our more pleasant and comforting Family
legends. One of our more remote ancestors is supposed to haunt the Tower, duty
bound to protect his descendants from harm. Apparently it's a penance for some
bloody crime he later came to regret but was unable to put right while he lived.
The legend doesn't say exactly what his crime might have been."
"That's often the way with legends," said Hawk. "You're right, of course. I
recognize it now. Has anyone seen this ghost in recent times?"
"No one's seen him for centuries," said Jamie. "Though there have been any
number of times when the Family could have used his help. So I'm afraid it is
just a legend, after all."
"I believe in him," said Holly suddenly. "I pray every night he'll come to save
me. But he never does."
Everyone looked at her strangely for a moment. For the first time, there had
been real passion in her voice, and something that might have been despair.
Jamie looked at her worriedly, but said nothing, and Holly quickly subsided into
silence again. Katrina cleared her throat loudly.
"That's supposed to be a portrait of the Guardian," she said brightly,
indicating a dark and gloomy portrait directly over the fireplace. "Painted not
long before his death. It's certainly old enough, so who knows?"
They all looked at the portrait. The pigments had darkened gradually over the
years, but the image was still clear. The portrait showed a grim, unsmiling
middle-aged man, posed uncomfortably in a large upholstered chair. He was
dressed in battered leather amour, and his face was lined and weathered. He
looked as though he would have been more at home riding a horse into combat than
sitting for an official Family portrait. There was an air of strength and
wildness about him, and his great mane of white hair and sharp, beaked nose
reminded Hawk uncannily of a bird of prey, trained to duty but never tamed. Hawk
had no trouble at all seeing him as a man wh
o would do bloody crimes in the heat
of passion.
Everyone jumped slightly as the door behind them swung suddenly open and the
butler Greaves entered. He stepped to one side, and formally announced the
arrival of Marc and Alistair MacNeil. The two men entered together, though with
enough space between them to suggest they were neither comfortable nor happy in
each other's company. They both bowed briefly to Jamie MacNeil.
Marc was tall and slender, with a broad, bland face and a cool, unhappy smile.
He looked to be in his late twenties, if you ignored his prematurely thinning
hair, and he wore the latest fashion poorly, as though indifferent to the effect
it was supposed to achieve. He looked like the kind of man who attaches himself
to groups at parties, in the hope someone will talk to him. His handshake was
harsh and perfunctory, and his lips lingered almost obnoxiously over Fisher's
hand. Jamie introduced him as another distant cousin, from Upper Markham.
"That makes him almost a neighbor of yours," said Jamie, smiling happily at Hawk
and Fisher. "I'm sure you'll have lots in common to talk about."
"Oh good," said Hawk.
Marc sniffed. "I rather doubt it. No one worth knowing ever came out of Lower
Markham."
There was an icy silence. Hawk's hand fell to his belt, before remembering he
didn't have his axe anymore. Fisher quickly dropped a restraining hand on his
arm. Marc smiled stiffly, almost as though daring Hawk to take offense at such
an obvious truth.
"That's enough!" said Jamie sharply. "There will be no duels in the Tower while
I'm the MacNeil. Now apologize, Marc."
"Of course," said Marc. "I'm sorry."
His tone made the apology sound like another insult, Hawk's scowl deepened.
Fisher tightened her grip on his arm. Hawk bowed stiffly, and turned his back on
Marc to greet Alistair MacNeil. Marc sniffed again, and turned away to help
himself to a drink from one of the wine decanters set out on the sideboard.
Fisher breathed a silent sigh of relief, let go of Hawk's arm, and took a long
drink from her glass.
Alistair shook Hawk's hand firmly, and kissed Fisher's hand with old-fashioned
style. He smiled at them both, an open, friendly smile that did much to dispel
the cool atmosphere left by Marc's comments. "Good of you to make such a long
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