But the old man would not hear him. ‘How naïve, how foolish we have been,’ he murmured. ‘What grief awaits us? What fearful instrument of loss lies gripped in the hidden hand behind the trusted smile? Quiet morning gives way to calamitous afternoon and so we find ourselves threatened, and our vulnerability pitifully exposed in the face of the long dark night that will surely come. How many more such nights must follow? So it must be for all who are precipitated unprepared into the dreadful state of war.’
CHAPTER 59
Daisy’s limp was particularly noticeable when she arrived that afternoon. Ordered to the west wing to oversee Caz’s move to the master’s suite, she climbed the turret stairs, stopping on the first-floor landing to put down the basket of kindling. She leaned wearily on the handrail for support, muttering to herself. ‘This is what comes of getting myself all worked up of a quiet Sunday, and this old leg of mine doesn’t help either.’ She called up into the stairwell, ‘Young Caz? Are you up there? Caz!’
She heard footsteps. Caz looked around the curving wall. Neither of them smiled. She held up the ring of keys. ‘A.s.a.p. he says, so we might as well get started.’
‘I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.’ He returned to the comfort of the warm, bright room with the round window. The fire had been lit since before he went out early that morning. The runes glowed around the walls. Forcing himself to contain his anger, he peeled the coloured sheets away from the plaster, arranging them in order in a big folder on the table.
Lastly he felt under the bed for the framed copy of his first rune casting. He had drawn the first of the Runes of the Deathless in the blank oval in Thor’s realm, the lowest of the four divisions of the circle. At the moment of decision it had seemed brighter and more focused than the other two, but he was no nearer to working out what the casting was all about.
I suppose I’ll never know unless I get all three runes, he thought. The old man’s had a long wait to find out, if he started when he was twelve. Maybe he can’t prove his own casting either. That would explain why he’s always been so edgy about it.
He put the copy in the folder and closed it. He raked the fire and spread the embers to let them go cold. The mattress and the bedding were rolled together into a tight bundle secured with a length of baler twine he had collected from the barn. He balanced it on one shoulder, put the folder under his arm and went downstairs.
Daisy had already opened the shutters, but the cavernous rooms dominating the first floor of the west wing of the house were bitterly cold and cheerless. The sullen, dark wood panelling the walls and the ceilings was unrelieved by the moulded, painted plasterwork, characteristic of the other principal rooms in the house. The design of the bare, woodblock floors drew the eye unavoidably to the gaping black emptiness in the cumbersome stone fireplaces dominating their dismal setting.
Caz put down the bundle of bedding. ‘It’s not exactly cosy, is it?’
‘These old fireplaces put out a good heat once you get them going. It won’t be so bad when it’s been aired a bit and there’s new carpet and curtains.’
‘I don’t want carpet and curtains.’
‘It helps keep out the cold.’
He didn’t answer, keeping his face moodily averted and gazing up at the patterns of light fanning out around the chandeliers on the dark, chequerboard panels covering the ceiling.
This is all because of two stupid women, he thought resentfully. They’ll go home and have a couple of drinks, and won’t think any more about it – while we’re left with our lives turned upside down for nothing.
Daisy tried to be positive. ‘These rooms were happy once. They will be again, you’ll see. Where do you want to sleep?’
‘Not in here!’
She followed him into the smaller room.
‘Is there a separate key for this one?’ he asked.
She unfastened the ring and gave him one of the two keys labelled MASTER’S SITTING ROOM.
‘I’ll make sure the spare is hidden away so there won’t be any snooping,’ she assured him. ‘What do you want to do about furniture?’
‘I’m all right with what I’ve got.’
‘There’s a nice little bookcase up in the servants’ quarters. We could fetch it down. If you don’t like it, it can go straight back where it came from. A good set of curtains and a couple of rugs will make all the difference in here. What colour do you want?’
‘Black!’ he growled.
‘Shall I get a pattern book sent down from London?’
He stood in the centre of the room with his back to her, irritably mimicking the old man’s voice. ‘No, we don’t want a pattern book sent down from London.’
There’s nowhere to put the runes, he thought miserably. Everything is dark and powerless in here. No wonder Sir Edmund cleared it all out. I’d have done the same. At least there’s only one stupid chandelier in this room.
He eyed the elaborate monstrosity, wondering how easy it would be to take down. Unconsciously following his thought, Daisy switched it on and he noticed at once that the panelling had been arranged in a more pleasing series of ever-widening circles radiating out from where the chandelier hung precisely at the centre point in the middle of the ceiling.
His inner vision showed him the runes carved on slabs of oak let into the pattern in a great circle around the sparkling crystal light. Each rune was picked out in the same shade of blue as the mysterious stone in the Council Chamber. A woman dressed in white stood in front of the windows before billowing curtains of the same blue colour. Jewels sparkled in her long black hair and at her neck and breast. The vision vanished before he saw her eyes, before her face came fully into focus, but there was something different about her that left him wondering.
Behind him, Daisy struck a match. The yawning mouth of the ugly fireplace was filled with flame. Unaccountably, he felt the fury and resentment fading and a sense of optimism brighten the miserable afternoon. Daisy piled the logs onto the blaze and lit the candles. Her heartbeat was strong and confident. She feels it too, he thought.
‘Get curtains the same colour as the stone in the middle of the rune circle in the Council Chamber,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s got to be exactly the same colour. They’ve got to match. If they don’t I’ll rip them all down and burn them!’
Daisy straightened up, her eyes shining. ‘They’ll match. You won’t need to light any bonfires. What about another bed?’
‘I like the camp bed,’ he said doggedly.
‘The bed in Lady Mattie’s room was completely done up after she passed away, new mattress, pillows, covers, the lot and never slept in since.’
Caz rounded on her in exasperation. ‘What do I want with a four-poster bed? The camp bed’s good enough for all the sleeping I ever do!’
Daisy stood her ground. Her eyes were bright behind her glasses. ‘I was just thinking I could get curtains and quilts in the same blue. The rugs too.’
She’s been upset enough today, he told himself. She doesn’t need me getting into a sweat over a stupid bed. ‘Do what you want. I can always sleep in the stables.’
He went to the desk and pulled out the drawers, checking they were all empty. ‘This can stay where it is, but no curtains or carpets in the other room. We’ll get some equipment set up in there, and Al and I can use it as a gym when it’s too cold and wet at Thunderslea.’
Daisy dared broach the difficult subject. ‘So what are you going to fetch up from the lodge?’
‘Nothing,’ he answered sullenly.
‘Just a few bits and pieces won’t hurt,’ she pleaded. ‘The Master’ll be on the look-out and there’ll be no peace for any of us until he thinks you’re properly moved in.’
Caz sighed. ‘I’ll bring up my laptop and some of the books but no furniture. Whatever he likes to think, Ma won’t be happy if she thinks I’m out for good.’
Daisy beamed. ‘That’ll do just fine. You don’t have to go upsetting your mother. Just make sure you’re down the lodge for
supper as usual and we’ll keep all the fuss up here where it belongs.’
CHAPTER 60
Caz spent most of the morning on his first day back at school staring out of the window at an unspecified point on the sports field, trying to make sense of how he had reacted to the two women who had wanted to buy Kyri and the colt.
I was ready to kill them. It would have been so easy. As soon as I had that gun in my hands their faces just melted and all I had to do was wipe them out. That’s worrying.
The class was going over a project he was supposed to have worked on before he went to Plymouth. Kerys had given him her homework to read on the bus before they got to school. When a question was obviously aimed in his direction, she nudged him and pointed to a paragraph in the folder open on the desk between them. He answered mechanically. The teacher wrote in her notebook. He wasn’t surprised to find Lauren waiting for him when class was over. Her heartbeat had been coming over loud and strong all through the lesson.
I didn’t even bother to notice if those women had hearts. That’s even more worrying.
‘We need to talk,’ she said.
‘Do we?’
‘We do.’
She looked pale and drawn, and seemed to have lost weight. Her hair lacked its usual lustre. Her skin was tight over her cheekbones and her eyes had lost their light. Whatever had possessed her, or him, seemed to have gone. He had to admit that the corruption of vision could have been entirely his own. She could have been as much the betrayed as she had appeared to be the betrayer. Nevertheless, no other girl had ever pushed him so far over the edge between control and complete abandon. He leaned against the wall, casually avoiding any physical contact with her.
She came straight to the point. ‘Are you into older women?’
He stared at her. ‘It’s all relative.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘That’s up to you.’
‘I saw you in town on Saturday. You were talking to a woman Bryony said you were involved with a couple of years ago.’
Does she mean the old beggar woman? he wondered. ‘That would have made me fourteen,’ he commented dryly.
‘So what’s age got to do with it?’
‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ he said mysteriously, beckoning to her to come closer. She stepped forward dreading what she was about to hear. He whispered in her ear. ‘I don’t do down and outs.’
She looked startled. ‘She wasn’t down and out. She’s got a shop. Bryony said she was into the occult.’
‘What occult?’
‘Blood rituals, full moon sex stuff, that kind of thing.’
He threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. The patchouli woman! What an idea!
Lauren felt ridiculous. ‘This is crazy, isn’t it?’
‘I would agree with that.’
‘Please hug me and tell me you don’t mind.’
He stepped away from her, shaking his head. She was still beautiful, but he had the measure of her now. ‘I don’t think so.’
Her eyes filled. Her cheeks burned. ‘I’m sorry about the sex thing,’ she said shyly. ‘It was just a crazy idea I got into. I’ve got years to sort that out.’
‘True.’
‘I didn’t mean to use you.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Can we start over?’ she asked, trying to sound cool but it came out too much like pleading. She was disgusted at herself for being so pathetic. After all, he was just a guy who obviously didn’t want to be with her any more. But this freaky new Lauren with permanent jetlag seemed to have a compulsion to be with him. She couldn’t help herself. Her mind slipped sideways into fantasies of pulling his shirt up out of his jeans right there in the middle of the school corridor and feeling the muscles across his back quivering as she touched his flesh. She wanted to look deep into his eyes and read all the desire she knew she could kindle with a single kiss.
‘Start what?’
‘Us.’
‘Us?’ He was already walking away. ‘There is no us, Lauren. There never will be.’
She had fulfilled her purpose. He had tested himself on her and remained true to his vows. But she had shown him how fragile his self-control really was. If her face changed again he knew he would try to kill her. What terrified him was that he knew Heartbiter would succeed.
CHAPTER 61
John reported to the study after an unsatisfactory morning in the garden trying to cram a full workday into a few miserable hours. Sir Jonas chose to ignore his old retainer’s injured air as he issued his new orders.
‘You are to patrol the eastern boundary, Mister John, while I maintain vigilance here at the house. The wolf that lies idle shall win little meat, or the sleeping man success. We cannot afford to let our surveillance lapse for a moment. Take particular note of any new animal trails as we may have to consider culling the deer.’
John shouldered his gun and set off into the raw November afternoon. He trudged across the copse behind the lake, grumbling to himself. ‘After all these years, he still thinks the garden’s a summer job. How’s old Dark-eyes going to manage without her winter salad and her herbs? How’s she supposed to be out in the weather digging her own turnips? Culling the deer! What ever kind of a notion is that?’
The leaves were slippery underfoot. The ground was muddy and flooded in places from an overnight downpour of rain. Once he reached the boundary wall, it was machete work with a thankless uphill scramble through the mess of undergrowth that was encouraged to flourish wherever the boundary adjoined the public road. The wall hugged the eastern flank below the viewpoint, running due north until it left the road just after the northeast gate, and disappeared into the woodlands dividing the manor fief from the adjoining estate.
The cloud descended and a persistent drizzle set the bare branches dripping overhead, soaking into the seams of his coat as he hacked and slashed his way up the hill. Sir Saxon had ordered the walls doubled in height at this remote part of the estate where the boundary was considered to be vulnerable, and ditches dug between the walls and the road where the verges were wide enough. The gates were high, solid metal and spiked, and recently converted to be operated by remote control. Surveillance eyes hidden among the boughs high up in the beech trees on either side of the stone pillars kept constant vigil over this exposed point in the wall.
John smelled wood smoke as he reached the bridleway that connected the northeast gate to the viewpoint on the hills. He put away the machete and hurried on, eager for a cup of tea and a bit of company. Alan had lit a fire beside the service track. The kettle was hung on its chain over the flames. An old enamelled teapot was set up, next to his tin mug, on an upturned log. Both gates were wide open. The tractor and trailer were parked across the entrance. Orderly heaps of wet leaves lined the narrow verge between the ditch at the foot of the wall and the road. Alan had been labouring all day to reinforce a weak point in the foundations where the wall had subsided and cracked.
Blue put his head out from under the tarpaulin in the trailer and barked when he heard John coming through the copse. Alan climbed out of the ditch and looked through the gates in surprise. ‘What are you doing up here at the back end of an afternoon, John?’
‘I’m sent off patrolling, aren’t I?’
‘But he knows I’m working this corner. What’s to do?’
John put down his gun beside the fire and warmed his hands. ‘I tell you he’s getting more jumpy as the days do pass. Old Dark-eyes is scared to leave him at night. She’s talking about us staying up to the house until things settle down again. If they ever do,’ he added gloomily.
‘There’s no need for that with Caz moving in there now.’ Alan wiped his hands and attended to the kettle. The steaming water spluttered into the pot. He stirred the tea with a chisel. ‘I’m in and out, and young Jem’s volunteered herself as well, hasn’t she?’
‘She’s coming in tonight and poor old Dais had a dickens of a job persuading the Master not to get her
to have a gun in her room, I can tell you.’ John fished in his old canvas workbag for his tin mug and the slab of cake Daisy had pressed into his hands as he left. ‘I brought us a bit of sustenance.’
‘Jem’s got no need of a gun,’ said Alan. ‘She’s another pair of eyes when Caz and me must be elsewhere, and that’s good enough. There’s no need for you and Dais to go displacing yourselves, not until there’s no other help for it, at any rate.’
A chainsaw started up in the adjacent woods. John looked out of the gates. Smoke trailed out of one of the chimneys above the distinctly-tiled red roof of a substantial house, partially hidden among the trees, further along on the other side of the road.
‘It looks like old Edwin Seton’s boy must be thinking about putting that old place back together at last,’ he remarked. ‘It’s too bad about him losing that young lass of his back in the summer. That’s another one of Lady Mattie’s blood gone untimely.’ He shook his head. ‘But these old families cling on one way or another. There’s fewer of them every generation and fewer of us, but somehow we cling on beside them, although on days like today I’m sure I don’t know why. Who’s working the place, do you know?’
Alan collected his tools from the verge and began packing them in the trailer. ‘It’s Dan Newman, Pete’s brother. He’s clearing the tracks and putting the old hut back in order in the copse. It seems the Setons have signed him up for the winter to sort out the land and get the gardens going again. He’s a good worker. They could do a lot worse.’
John nodded. ‘They could at that,’ he agreed. He went back to the fire and poured the tea. ‘Talking of workers, I’ve been thinking. We can both have a use for those two mates of young Jasper’s now it seems they could become a permanent fixture on the payroll. Young Loz is a handy lad. He don’t seem too broken-hearted, and between us we could get a tidy lot done in the garden over a weekend. It’ll make up for all this time-wasting we’re having to put up with during the week.’
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