The Devil's Workshop

by Donnally Miller

  “Where are you?” asked Archimedes.

  “You are surrounded. Stand slowly and leave your weapons on the ground. Then move away from the clearing and you will be allowed to live.”

  “Come out and let us see who you are,” said Tavish.

  The answer to this was another arrow standing in the ground between Tavish’s feet. “The next will not miss. Now move! We grow impatient.”

  Archimedes and Tavish stood, letting it be seen that their hands were empty, and then they walked slowly and with great reluctance out of the clearing, leaving their booty behind.

  “Now run, if you value your lives.”

  They ran, making as much noise as possible so their attackers would know they had gone. After those sounds died away there was a long silence. Nothing moved in the clearing or the surrounding trees. After close to twenty minutes had passed an Indian crept out of the woods and gathered up the loot the robbers had left behind. This took a little time, but clearly he was very pleased. Suddenly Archimedes and Tavish erupted from the trees and fell on him. After running a short distance they had stealthily crawled back to see who had ambushed them. Seeing only a single man they had resolved to take back what was theirs. Archimedes wrapped his powerful arms around the Indian while Tavish asked, “Where are your companions?”

  “They are coming,” said the Indian. “You can still run away and be spared.” But Archimedes and Tavish were laughing now at the Indian’s audacity and the low trick he’d tried playing on them. The Indian, knowing he’d been seen through, said, “I should have shot both of you when I had the chance. Now I am punished for being soft-hearted.”

  “Yes, why didn’t you kill us?”

  “I was hoping you would keep stealing more and I would take that from you as well.”

  In the end the three of them formed a friendship. The Indian, whose name was Cunning Fox, had fought under Half Moon, but after the Indians were defeated, soldiers came with fire and guns and destroyed the village where he’d lived, killing the rest of his family. He alone had escaped, and had been prowling the Forest, living off the game he could shoot with his bow. He hadn’t been brave enough to risk going near the towns of the settlers, but when he saw these two alone in the wood he’d devised his plan to take advantage of them.

  So Tavish and Archimedes welcomed Cunning Fox into their little society. They would hunt as a pack. Three of them together were enough to ambush any of the small convoys that carried cargoes up and down the Coast Road. They became notorious and were known as the Three Bandits. Tavish forgot the man he’d been, translated by melancholy, longing and bleak despair into an outcast and a desperado. He thought each day might be his last, and in every episode of banditry a savage portion of his heart was hoping he’d be killed. This made him a peerless brigand, brutal and unafraid. Often he thought of Katie. Since he no longer returned to the spot where he’d seen her last, he worried that when she wanted to come back she wouldn’t know where to find him. So he made sure to leave his name at the scenes of their crimes, often writing “Tavish was here,” on the skin or clothing of his victims, trusting his ill fame would come to her ear. Archimedes and Cunning Fox spent their days hiding out in the woods, but Tavish would come into the towns and mingle with the crowd on days of feast or at the market, learning of the goods that were to be shipped and looking at all the women, but never seeing the one he sought.

  One day in the woods Tavish came to a very large, lichen-covered rock, and seated on the top of the rock was a woman. She was attired in dark cloth of subtle tissue and her hair also was dark. She wore a silver belt round her waist and on it thirteen silver bells. Tavish did not see her at first on account of the rock being so large and her being on top of it, so when he did see her it crossed his mind she must have been watching him and waiting for a while. He’d heard tales of meetings such as this and knew it for a sign that he was soon to die. This didn’t disturb him overmuch. He found his way up and came to her. He saw her eyes were bruised with sadness and a little despair.

  Deirdre – for it was she – smiled and opened her arms, inviting, but he held back, knowing her for a deceitful baggage. “I’ve a gift I can give,” she said. “I’ll take the memory of her away and the hurt goes with it. You’ll know nothing of her. Were you to meet again it would be for the first time. Come, lie with me and your past will be forgot.”

  Still he held back. “Sure it is I can’t. If it went, my soul would go with it. I’d not be myself, just some unhappy bugger who couldn’t remember anything.”

  “And you would never know what was gone, nor would you miss it.”

  “The only gift I’d ask is to tell me where I might find her.”

  “She will not come back to you.”

  “She may not come back to the Tavish who loved her. I fear that man is dead. But certain I am she will come back to me.”

  She looked at him after he’d said this, holding his eye with hers. He’d grown bold staring down the men he killed, and was accustomed to what he’d read in their eyes when they knew their time had come. But he was not prepared for what he saw in Deirdre’s eyes. Truly it frightened him, and he found himself looking away. “You’ll find her in the hut of Trogle the hermit. She’s a garden planted there. She’s been there just so long the seeds she’s sown are coming in to bloom.” He turned his eyes to look at her again, but he saw where she had been was only a fold in the granite, and that had been her eyes were two bits of mica sparkling in the sun, and the tinkling of the silver bells was the lonely calling of the birds. He was by himself, his only companion a chill breeze wafting from the nearby trees.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  STORY’S END

  Hope is a foolish and futile possession for any man, especially one as experienced as Tavish. Nevertheless, on the day following his meeting with Deirdre, he told his two companions he was going on an expedition to Trogle’s hut. He told them what he expected to find, adding that when he returned, they would make a plan to get Katie. However, it was not his intention to return. He planned to kill Tom and then embark on a new life with Katie, but this he kept to himself.

  When he got to the hut, he saw it was as Deirdre had said. He watched from the shelter of the surrounding trees, following Tom as he went about his errands, but keeping his eye always on Katie. He was a practiced observer of her, and seeing how she acted around Tom he became convinced she had tired of him already. Tom would have to be killed, Archimedes was right about that. But Tavish wouldn’t carry her off against her will, though he wasn’t certain how to convince her to come to him. He loved her so devoutly with every fiber of his body, he was sure she had to love him back. But how to make her see that? Slowly a plan formed in his mind, but it was one that would involve his two companions, so on the morning of the third day after he’d arrived at the hut, he returned to Archimedes and Cunning Fox.

  He told them how things stood. It seemed simple. The hut was isolated, far from any town. It had but the one door and only one window. There was no back door; anyone inside would be trapped. The trees had been cleared all around, so there was no way to sneak up, but that would pose no problem. Archimedes favored coming by night and cloud. The three of them would creep stealthily up to the hut. They’d kill the man and abduct the woman. Nothing could be easier. It would take no more than a few minutes.

  “What about the dog?” said Cunning Fox. “The dog will bark.”

  “Kill the dog quick,” said Archimedes. “He won’t bark long.”

  But Tavish insisted that wouldn’t be right. A deed such as this should not be made simple. It would be done by day. Tom was to know who killed him and Katie was to watch him die.

  “So you’re wanting to make it into a grand drama,” said Archimedes. “That’s a foolish plan.”

  But Tavish was not to be brought round. He had it his way in the end. Also, there would be no carrying off of Katie. He would convince her to come on her own. But the way he imagined doing so was something he didn’t share with
the others.

  Tom and Katie, having no suspicion of the malice planned against them, were as blithe a pair of lovers as any in fairyland. The time passed quietly, one perfect day following another. They were just the two of them, sufficient to themselves. Every morning they woke aching for the other’s kiss and all day they rode the currents of desire. Love was the theme and melody of every singing hour and nothing in the loving world held them back from giving everything they had. Only to love forever was all they asked, and forever was only now. And when the sun dropped below the horizon, they’d lie together, limbs entangled, as the mysterious night engulfed them, the low horned moon edging the clouds, a few pale stars strewn across the sky, and a low wind running to and fro, like the children they’d once been, not knowing where to go.

  “Wherefore are there more than you and I . . .?

  “Tell me again about everything . . .”

  “And all the world inside . . .”

  “The living world . . .”

  It happened on a warm sun-dappled morn that Tom rose from an empty dream to see Katie standing mother naked, feeding a doe and a hart that had come to the window. He rose to stand beside her, taking in the pleasance of the sunrise and the friskiness of the breeze. Thrushes were cooing in the thatch. Tommy Dog was pretending to chase a brace of conies who’d scamper when he came near, more in play than earnest. Katie looked up and he took her in his arms. They made themselves happy in kissing and comforting one another, and when they were done, they dressed and turned their thoughts to the cares of the day, little and few as they were. Tom paid a visit to San Dorio to barter the beans and onions he’d grown in return for bread and cider. His mind was on the passing of the summer and the preparations for autumn. The leaves on the maples were turning a deep bloody red, and soon he’d have to look out for warmer clothes. But the chill was not yet. His foot still ached. The wound had never entirely healed with all the walking he’d done, so he had to endure the occasional throb of pain, but all in all it was better than it had been.

  Katie sat in her chair, looking at her garden out the window. So many times she’d sat this way. She thought about the dreams she’d had on the road and it came to her maybe this was all another dream. Maybe she’d wake back in Lanchester Mansion and she’d have to go downstairs and put on her apron and set out breakfast. Had that person really been her? Life was so much simpler now, and there wasn’t much in it that displeased her. She’d await Tom’s return, till then she savored the peace.

  Tom concluded his bartering and set off on the long walk home. He felt tiredness in the muscles between his shoulders: it was the jug of cider that weighed him down. On this day there was one who followed him, waiting for the choicest moment to make him a victim, but of this he was unaware. He’d been shadowed through the woodland paths, till he neared the hut and then, the moment having arrived, a musket was fired and he fell on the broad greensward.

  The man who’d fired the musket shouted, “Do you forgive me for that?”

  Tom’s mind was muddled, not having taken in what had occurred. “I’m afraid something stupid’s happened and I’ve spilled the cider,” he called to Katie.

  Katie rushed to his aid, but as she ran to the door an arrow suddenly stood in the doorpost and another voice shouted, “You cannot come out. If you do you’ll be killed.”

  So she knew they’d been ambushed and were being robbed. Tommy Dog barked at the trees and ran a little way on his crippled legs towards Tom where he lay, then ran back. She took the rifle and pointed it out the window, looking for the faces of those who sought to harm them. All she saw was trees.

  Tom was struggling to stand. She saw him about thirty yards from where she sat at the window. He’d been shot in the shoulder and as he got back up, first he kneeled on one leg and then rose on the other, but as he did the musket fired again, hitting him in the knee and he fell once more. Katie screamed, but she couldn’t come to him; her role was to do no more than watch as he bled to death.

  “Alright, whoever you are,” she shouted to the woods. “What is it you’re wanting?”

  “We want you to watch him die,” came an answer. “And when he’s dead you can come out to us.”

  She now thought very deeply what she should do. The voice that had answered her was one she thought she knew. “Tavish, is that you?”

  “Certain it is.”

  “Please, let me just have Tom. We’ve hardly begun. Don’t kill him.”

  “I’ve got to kill him. Else I’ll die for your love.”

  Well she couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

  “Tavish, come out of the trees for one minute, so I can see you,” she shouted.

  “Why do you want to see me?”

  “Maybe it’s a sight I’ve been missing. Let me see your face.”

  Slowly he stepped out. He stood visible to her on the edge of the grass. His aspect was changed since she’d seen him last. His eyes glittered from a dark brown face that bore a beard the color of rain-spoilt hay. He smiled. As he remained there she took a shot at him which missed, but sent him scrambling to hide in the brush.

  “You’ve had your chance,” he shouted. “You’ll not get another.”

  She fired a few more times into the woods near where he’d disappeared, but then stopped, mindful of wasting bullets.

  Tom strove to crawl to Katie’s door. As he was doing that, Tavish shouted to him, “Do you still forgive me?”

  “Yes, whatever you’ve done, always . . . always I will forgive . . . Can you not see that nothing good will ever happen if we cannot forgive one another?”

  Katie had had a thought. “Tommy,” she said to the dog, “go find Tavish for me. Show me where he is.”

  Tommy barked and ran out of the hut. He ran directly to the spot where Tavish stood and bared his teeth and growled. Tavish kicked him, but Katie fired a shot that nearly hit Tavish in the face, missing only by inches. So he aimed his musket at Tommy Dog and shot him. Then he moved away, finding a different tree to hide behind. Tommy was mortally wounded and had no place to go to die but to where Tom was lying. Tom held the dog’s face in his hands and Tommy Dog spoke for the second time, saying, “All love leads to death,” and then died in Tom‘s arms.

  Katie decided she had to risk the arrows, so clutching her rifle, she came running to where Tom lay. As she did, an arrow from Cunning Fox tore through her cotton blouse, grazing her breast.

  “No!” shouted Tavish. “Don’t hurt her!” He raced to where the other two were hidden and chastised Cunning Fox angrily.

  Katie came to Tom.

  “Katie, my love, I had so much to say, but now my life is ending.”

  “Your life will not end today. It’s only Tavish, and his aim is lousy.” The jest was on her lips, but foreboding gazed from her eyes. Tom was losing a fearsome amount of blood. She got him up and moving, leaning on her. The pair of them managed a strenuous stumble towards the hut and the protection it promised while Tavish and Cunning Fox were carrying on their dispute.

  At this point Archimedes put his hand on Tavish’s arm and said, “Stay calm, my brother. I will take care of everything.” Seeing Tom was wounded and Katie was too busy with him to do anything else, he strode boldly out of the trees and walked to where Katie and Tom had now gotten, which was just outside the door of the hut. Taking his great knife he stabbed Tom in the chest. A plume of blood erupted and Katie screamed. Archimedes then knocked the rifle out of her hands and grabbed her by the hair, so he could carry her to Tavish. Tavish broke off his argument with Cunning Fox when he saw Archimedes dragging Katie towards him. Archimedes shouted glad tidings to Tavish, confident the job was done. Tom was dying, choking in his own blood, and they would carry Katie away. But Tavish had been cherishing a secret plan of his own, and saw now its time was come.

  “Katie, I would never let any hurt come to you,” he said.

  He aimed his musket and fired. Katie screamed. Then Archimedes fell dead.

  Turning quickly to
Cunning Fox, Tavish loaded and aimed his musket again. Cunning Fox could make no sense of what was happening. Tavish said, “Drop your bow and arrow.”

  “What are you doing? You shot Archimedes.”

  “I said drop them!”

  Cunning Fox did as he was told.

  “Now step out into the open.”

  “Have you gone mad?”

  “I said step out or I’ll shoot you!” Looking at Cunning Fox’s face, Tavish was no longer certain he could go through with it. He had to get this over quickly.

  Cunning Fox left the shelter of the trees and stood on the greensward, visible to Katie.

  Tavish stepped out also. He could see Archimedes’ body sprawled brokenly on the grass. Pointing to Cunning Fox he said, “This is the man who almost killed you with his arrow. But I would never let him hurt you.”

  Cunning Fox blurted, “You told me –“

  He said, “Cunning Fox, forgive me,” and fired again. Cunning Fox fell to the ground. He turned to her. “There now, my own true friends and I’ve killed them, all so you’ll know there’s nothing to fear.” He opened his arms. “Come to me, Katie.”

  Katie looked at him in horror. “You’re a vile, evil man. I’ll have naught to do with you.” She ran to the hut, where Tom now lay gasping his last. “Stay with me, Tom,” she pleaded with him. He looked at her, but couldn’t speak. He’d loved her always with all that was in him. There wasn’t much in him now, but his love had no bounds and his eyes told her all he felt. His heart was pumping the blood from his chest in great, pulsing bursts. Katie knew he was almost gone. “You’ve always been my one and only. You’re the only thing that’s true. You’re–” she sobbed. “Stay with me, Tom. My Tom. Oh my Tom!” She tried to keep it up so he’d have her voice to hold onto, but in the end her words failed and she could only watch through her tears as the last light of life left his fading eyes and she knew he’d passed away forever.