"A good night's work," said Nash, when he returned and was informed of this discovery. "You've done the Crown a great favor with your assistance, Mr. Barrett. I'm sure it will not go unrewarded."
Now our positions to aid one another had been reversed, though I had no doubt he would still expect some monetary token from my father later.
Father...
The urge to go home seized me, stronger than ever, now that the chase was past. Elizabeth had been disappointed, but understood; she would not be as charitable over additional delays.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I would take it as a great kindness if I might be allowed to return to my sister."
He'd only been waiting half the night to hear those words and promptly volunteered his horse for my use. I declined. The effort of getting into the saddle would be too much for my arm. I was able to walk and said as much, preferring my own legs to being jostled around on a horse's back. After trading hats again with the surly Andrews, I set off, slowly leading the way for the rest. Since the object was to reach the road rather than go back on our own tracks, I struck off in a different direction to find it. Once there, they could make their own way back to Glenbriar.
Of the other men who had been at their post with Hausmann, we saw no sign. Andrews and Roddy refused to answer any questions on the subject. Nash was not optimistic.
"Probably murdered as well," he said. "If that's the case, then hanging will be too good for these two."
"Andrews is a soldier," I pointed out.
"More's the pity, he'll probably just be interned as a prisoner of war. The other fellow is no soldier, though, which makes him either a spy, a thief, a murderer, or all three. He'll hang."
Roddy heard him clearly-Nash was making no effort at discretion-went very white, and stumbled as his legs went weak. His guard held him up.
"Steady, lad," said Andrews, who had had his gag removed. "You're a soldier and I'll swear to it in any court they please to call. You'll live to fight another day."
"Ha!" said Nash.
Very likely I would never see Roddy again after this night. He would simply cease to be. I enjoyed no feeling of triumph for his capture. I wanted him punished, but the punishment itself had become distant and abstract. Someone else would handle all the details of prosecution and execution. My only concern now was to patch up the damage he had inflicted upon my life.
We might have done better to retrace our steps, for it took us an hour to reach the road again, and even longer to return to the point where we'd left it. I was growing weary. Those bottomless reserves were turning out to be finite, after all.
In the far distance, as we rounded a curve, we saw several lanterns bobbing about and many men moving around. The fellow Nash had dispatched for reinforcements had returned and they were gathered around the spot where Hausmann had fallen.
"That's Da's wagon and team," Roddy exclaimed when we got close enough for them to see details.
True enough, and rather ironic. It was being used to carry Hausmann's body back to Glenbriar. They'd already shrouded him in a blanket. The thing robbed him of face and form. God, I must have looked like that as well. I was glad Elizabeth was not here to see it.
Andrews and Roddy were turned over to others to guard and Nash busied himself with issuing orders and receiving news. The missing men had turned up on their own. They'd heard the shot that had killed Hausmann and given futile chase, but lost themselves in the dark. They'd wandered back sometime earlier, drawn by the lights and noise of the others.
"That's good," Nash concluded. "It seems that you and that lad are the only casualties. If you wish, I'll have them take you back to The Oak and find a doctor for you."
"Thank you, but I'm sure Dr. Beldon, who lives at my home, will see to things."
"Yes, of course. I'd forgotten about him. I imagine he's still out looking for your-ah..." Here he trailed off, in sudden doubt over what he should say next.
"For these two," I completed for him, indicating the prisoners. "I hope he hasn't come to harm. Please do tell your men to keep a lookout for him and send him home as quick as may be."
"Certainly." Nash recovered from his discomfiture, his altered memory secure once more. He insisted on providing an escort, so I found myself bracketed by two men who were instructed to take me to the door of the Montagu house. Each had a lantern, but our progress was slow. They understood that I was to be given every courtesy and interpreted that to mean setting a regal pace out of consideration for my arm. It pleased me well enough as I didn't feel like going any faster.
The thing had swollen rather badly. The sleeve of the coat I wore was snug around the injury. I was not looking forward to Beldon's ministrations for this. Not that I lacked confidence in his ability as a physician, but it would hurt damnably.
Though thankfully not suffering from fever, my mouth was very dry. I thirsted, and knew that water would not quench it. I need blood, I thought without abhorrence or any surprise.
Once the idea jumped into my head the thirst increased tenfold.
My throat constricted and my tongue thickened as it rubbed the dry roof of my mouth. My lips felt like salt and sand. The lingers of my good hand curled and twitched. My very bones seemed to burn with new pain around the break. Much as I wanted to see Father, it would have to wait. I could not tolerate this dreadful need for very long.
I walked faster. The soldiers made no comment and kept up. They'd become a sudden inconvenience and would have to go. I tried to recall the words I'd use to dismiss them, but the insistent thirst was too distracting. The phrases that kept coming up in my tumbled mind were either French or Italian or Latin.
As the Montagu house finally came into view, I paused and attempted to tell the men that I no longer required their assistance. My nervous state of mind, combined with my limited German, made it difficult to get the idea across. One of them knew a bit of English, though, so between us things were finally made clear. They looked somewhat worried for me, for I was fidgeting and the longer they lingered, the harder it was to conceal my anxiousness. With many a backward glance, they finally left, their pale lanterns swinging as they went. I managed to remain in one spot just long enough for them to walk a goodly distance, then whirled around to run toward the stables.
The building was unfamiliar to me and much smaller than our own, but the smells and routines were identical. I eased open the door and slipped inside, my eyes eagerly searching the dimness within.
Her carriage stood just inside, a lovely bit of work that she kept polished and new-looking for her rides to church and village. She had only the one coachman, who also served as groom, but he'd be asleep in the slave quarters now. The horses, a pair of matched bays out of the same bloodlines as my own Roily, were quite unguarded.
The animals already sensed my approach, stirring in their boxes. I picked the quieter of the two and moved in next to him. His ears flicked back in doubt and he bobbed his head. I spoke to him soothingly and let him get my scent until he was used to me. It was not easy to stand there calming him while feeling so agitated. I was so close to relieving the ache in my throat and belly that the natural urge to hurry was hard to put off.
Finally, he stood very still and I was able to go on. My earlier experience with Roily helped. This time my bite was more shallow, my control of the flow more certain. The effect of the blood, however, was the same and I gratefully drank my fill, relishing the warmth and rich taste. It was better than the sweetest water, better than the best wine, more sustaining than any food.
And healing. Some of the grinding agony in my broken arm receded. It was yet far from being whole-the swelling remained-but the promise of recovery was there. I could even move the fingers again, though nothing more than that.
The small wounds I'd made on the horse clotted over. The blood staining my mouth and chin was minimal; I could easily clean that off if I could just find...
The stable door, which I'd left open to give me light to work by, was no longer empty. The
Hessians stood there, their lanterns raised high. I dropped down, but the movement made noise and they came inside.
Damn the men. Not put off by my dismissal, they'd doggedly returned, whether out of curiosity or a dedicated obedience to their commander to see that his orders were correctly carried out.
I swiped at my mouth. Blood on my hand now. The damned stuff was everywhere. There was no time to brush it away, they were already coming around to look in the box.
They stopped short as the lantern light fell upon me where 1 crouched in the straw. Each of us gave a start, they with surprise, me with sudden shame. I turned my face from them, but it was too late. They'd seen the blood, the eyes-which had flushed scarlet after my feeding. Nora's had always done so. "Blutsauger!" one of them whispered with awe and horror. The word had no meaning for me, but I knew the sound of fear. I raised myself and slowly faced them.
The older of the two backed away, making a recognizable witch sign against me with his hand. He invoked God's name in a hasty muttered prayer and kept going. His companion was too shocked yet to move.
"It's all right," I said, but it was hopeless to think I could calm them as I'd calmed the horse. I offered a placating hand, a wasted and foolish gesture. There was blood on it.
The older one recoiled, shouted a warning at his friend, and lied. He crashed against the edge of the doorway in his haste, but did not stop. The noise got through to the other fellow, who started after him.
I rushed up to the opening and watched them retreat across the yard and on to the beginnings of the lane. They'd probably run straight back to their company and pass along God knows what story. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it, either. I might possibly catch up with them, try to influence them, but what needed to be said to change their memories was beyond my limited German vocabulary.
A black cloud settled about me, sinking into my brain, deadening thought, but not feeling. The impossibility of my situation was too much to bear. While Elizabeth had been with me, I'd been able to take hope from her, but now even her support looked to be no more than an illusion... a dream... a shadow.
/ live in the shadows and make shadows of my own in the minds of others. Shadows and illusions of life and love that fill my nights until something like this happens and shows them up for what they are.
Now as I leaned wearily against the wall of the stable and stared inward, I knew what Nora had meant. Its exact meaning had been driven into me by those two terrified men with almost the same force as that musket ball. My desire to go back to the life I'd known was never to be fulfilled. I might create an illusion of peace for myself but it would be only that and nothing more. Sooner or later the unnatural aspects of my condition would encroach upon and destroy that peace. This instance was surely the first of many others to come. The weight of such a future was enough to crush me back into the ground again, back into the grave that had rejected me.
Without thought or direction I left the stable and wandered out into a night that was my illusion of day. The only darkness
for me now was from the heavy cloud that covered my heart and soul, weighed hard upon my spirit, and filled my mind. Even the careless glory of the stars filling the great sky with their light could not pierce or lift it.
I walked and walked, hugging my injured arm. My path took me through fields and across the road. I lost track of time and didn't care. I met no one and was vaguely thankful. I wanted no one to see me, not even Father. I was too ashamed of what had happened to me, of what I'd become.
Only when the sky turned unduly bright did I rouse somewhat from the self-pity that had such fast hold of me. I didn't wholly shake it off, merely thrust it aside out of mundane necessity.
My unmindful walk had been in the right general direction. I was on my own land and not too far from the old barn. Elizabeth might even be there. I'd told her about it. Yes. I could bear to see her again, but no one else.
The light flooding the sky increased, imparting clear vision to others even as it blinded me. My steps grew clumsy, uncertain. I staggered forward with greater speed, shielding my eyes and looking up only to stay on the path I stumbled over. The barn was only just ahead. I dived beneath the ivy hanging over the entrance and into the comforting shadows beyond with a sob of relief.
Apparently I was not so far gone in my mood as to forsake life just yet. Had I stayed outside, I suspected the sun would burn me down to the bone. A musket ball was bad enough, but there were worse fates.
My steps dragging in the dust, I returned to the dark shelter of the stall. The only marks there were the ones I'd made earlier. I'd probably be secure enough for the day-at least until Elizabeth came the next evening. I was sorry she wasn't here, but it had only been a faint hope and I'd come to know the bitter difference between it and actuality. She was probably still talking to Father, poor girl.
I sat with my back to the wall, trying to ease my arm and groaning over the misery. This time I would welcome the sleep the day would bring...
... that whipped by without any knowledge that I had slept.
My eyes had closed and opened. That was all it took and the
hot hours of another late summer's day were gone forever. All
my future days would be spent like this one. I'd never again see the clouds against the sun, never see its rise and set except as a warning or as an inconvenience that must be endured. No illusions, shadows, or nightmares, but no dreams either, nothing but this unnatural oblivion and its inevitable reminder of death.
Whatever was to become of me?
Did I even care?
After a moment's sluggish thought, I decided the answer was yes. For my body, if not my spirit. Conscious or not, the enforced rest had done me much good. More movement had returned to my arm and the swelling was reduced. The pain was... noticeable, but not as bad as before.
Then I forgot all about it as I became aware I was not alone. Standing but a few yards away was Elizabeth. Her face bore signs of much fatigue and strain, but happiness as well as she looked at me. She held a lantern and standing next to her was Father.
A hundred years might have gone by since I'd last seen him in the library giving those final instructions to me and Beldon. He'd been so solid and concerned. And there'd been pride as well, pride for me, and for what I was doing. The kind of pride that always caught at my heart and made me pause and thank God that he was my father.
Sweet heavens, but he's an old man, I thought with dull shock, looking at this now near-stranger who was staring back with such painful astonishment. His face was so lined, so gray, the lips slack and pale, his eyes so hollow. Even his body seemed to have shrunk, the straight spine bent, the shoulders slumped and their strength gone.
I've done this to him.
My sight blurred and swam. I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see him like this.
"Forgive me," I pleaded, hardly knowing my voice, hardly knowing why I said it.
He slowly walked over, knelt by me. I could just see that much through the tears.
His hands tentatively touched my shoulders. They were steady and strong, making a lie of what I'd seen. Then his arms went around me and he pulled me toward him as he'd done often enough to give solace when I'd been very small.
"Oh, my boy," he whispered, rocking me gently. "My poor, lost child."
I said nothing, did nothing. My heart and mind began to clear as the realization dawned that he was yet my father and he loved me still, no matter what had happened or what was to come. All my sorrows, all my hurts were not so great that somehow he could not fail to help me bear them.
In a hot flare of shame I abruptly cast off my self-pity and gratefully surrendered to the comfort and love he wanted so much to give.
Elizabeth allowed us some moments for this precious communion, then came over and put down her lantern. Father looked at her.
"I am sorry I doubted you," he said.
She touched one of his hands and smiled wryly. "It's all right."
"What's this?" I asked, straightening a little. Father gave me a last reassuring hug, then stood. From my seat in the dust I once again saw him as the child in me had always perceived him, saw him as he would always ever be to me: a tall, handsome man, all strength and energy and honor with wisdom enough to know that he was not wise.
Elizabeth said to me, "I did mention that there was no way in the world... well, that it would not be easy."
"She told me everything... and I did not believe her." Father regarded me with quiet amazement. "I'm not certain that I even now believe."
I had some difficulty in swallowing. "Told you... everything!"
"Yes."
I felt my face go red.
He smiled kindly upon my disconcertion. "Dear child, whoever this woman was, I'm ready to fall on my knees and thank her for what she shared with you. You've come back to us. I don't care how or by what means. You've come back, that's all that's important."
P N Elrod - Barrett 1 - Red Death Page 30
