Heartbeat of the Moon

by Jennifer Taylor

  “Da, she was fierce, like those warrior queens you read to me about. Like Minerva, or Queen Isabella of Spain.”

  “Yes, indeed. I’m impressed you remembered those names.”

  Widow Jenkins clutched Maggie’s sleeve. “Yon girl is unladylike, but she gets the job done.”

  Bethan, for all her beauty and grace, had likely learned how to fight to defend her sister from ridicule.

  Maggie joined Bethan. “Are you all right?”

  Bethan nodded. Henry bowed, met Bethan’s eyes. “Thank you again for your defense of my son.”

  Bethan inclined her head. “It was only right.” She smiled.” I must take a look at this wagon.” She smirked at Maggie.

  They followed as Henry led George to the ram side of the wagon. George’s eyes grew round, and he backed away a bit. “Da.” He turned to Henry. “How does he hold them up?”

  A voice in the crowd said, “Ian, my man. Did you model your monstrous cods for this work of art?”

  The corners of Ian’s mouth twitched up. “A gentleman never brags about his prowess.”

  “Well, you’re no gentlemen.”

  “True enough.” Ian grinned, pretending to undo his breeches. “I’ll show you, then.”

  Maggie fumed. Whoops and hollers, and everyone laughing at her expense!

  Ed the butcher quipped, “It’s a wonder you can even walk, or your wife.”

  Men and women alike roared with laughter.

  A few minutes later, Adam arrived for Bethan.

  “Can you stay for a pint?” Henry asked. “You must have run the whole way here.”

  The beleaguered father nodded, gasping for breath. “No, I’m sorry. I would like to, but Elunid is distraught. She has run out of thread.”

  Bethan smiled. “I now have plenty of thread. Thank you for fetching me, Adam.”

  He laughed. “Truth be told, the walk did me good. Too many hens in the hen house.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Henry said, “Again, I thank you for your kindness, Mistress Owens.”

  Adam glanced from one to the other. “You must explain your behavior on the walk home.” He pushed past the crowd, Bethan in tow.

  The humiliation of the wagon and Bethan’s defense of George had turned into the biggest event in King’s Harbour since the county fair. Lena slid next to her, wrapping a shawl around the both of them. “Getting chilly, is it not, my friend?”

  “I doubt any of these fools would notice.”

  The nearly blind Widow Jenkins stood nose-to-bosom with the shepherdess. “Where did you get this grand wagon?”

  “Josef has been hiding it outside of town for some time, amusing himself bit by bit with adorning it.”

  Vicar Andrews stood a good distance from the wagon, as befit a holy man, but stared fixedly, two spots of color on his cheeks. He straightened his wig as if he expected to see the lass come to life and kiss him on the cheek. Maggie had to admit, the woman looked realistic.

  “I didn’t know Josef could paint such a thing,” Lena said. “Do you see she has my hair?” She exchanged a glance with her husband, and his eyes softened in response.

  Maggie grimaced. There Ian was, holding court with the other fools. “He is so impulsive, this man. Just arrived home last night and buys a wagon. No offense to you or Josef, Lena, but we had not even discussed a wagon, or even a need for one.”

  “Would you not have some use for it, Maggie?” Lena murmured.

  “I do not need it. I do not like it.”

  “But look at the pleasure it gives him. He’s bursting with it. Sometimes we do not understand what our men do, but we must allow them their pleasures. And it is not another woman, ja?”

  She nodded. “I suppose.”

  “Maggie, you will find in a marriage there are things to be angry about and things you must let go. He is the master of the house. You have the wagon, so enjoy it.”

  Maggie stalked over to the horse. “So I am victim to every whim he has? And what of this horse? More expense.”

  “Well, he did not pay much for her, I bet,” Lena said.

  Maggie eyed the grey nag. Although old, she seemed sturdy enough. She ran a hand along her neck and received a nudge in response.

  Ian appeared beside her and rested his hand on the small of her back. “You will find this wagon will come in handy for your work, Maggie.”

  “I am not a travelling salesman, selling…what?”

  “Fecundity, of course! You are selling fertility!”

  The horse suddenly jerked its head and flared its nostrils. They turned around to see what caused it.

  Pete Stowe strode up, a whip held in his good hand. His mother stood behind him, contempt upon her face. He lunged forward. The horse shied, eyes rolling, and backed the wagon up amidst yelling and cursing.

  “You almost ran me over,” someone yelled.

  Maggie held the horse’s bridle. “There now. Settle.” The horse quivered.

  Pete Stowe laughed. “What have you got here, Pierce? Just what I’d expect from the likes of you.”

  “Yes.” Ian stood in front of him, dwarfing him with his stature. “Isn’t it grand?”

  “Grand for a lunatic, to be sure.”

  Maggie held her breath. Everyone in town knew Ian was afflicted, but no one ever mentioned it, for it was as much a part of the town’s landscape as the English Channel.

  “Yes, it’s a fine wagon for transport to Bedlam.”

  The crowd grew still.

  Ian merely stood, head cocked. “Your wound, Stowe. It is putrefying. If you come to the shoppe I will treat it for you.”

  Full Pocket had sandy hair, a sharp nose, and brown eyes swimming in red, no doubt due to the drinking and his dissolute ways. His entire hand was swollen to twice its size, and pustules of green drained from the angry red. The stump where his thumb had been was a hard dry crust of dead tissue. Escar, an eating sore. He held his dead tissue gingerly against his stomach. Even with the odor of the crowd, a sickeningly sweet smell seeped from his pores.

  “I don’t need your help.” He shot Ian a look of contempt.

  “You will lose your hand if it isn’t tended to.”

  “Yon wagon looks like a travelling whorehouse. Or transport to gaol again. ’Twill ease the way for your jailers, to be sure.”

  Henry stood beside Ian. “Where were you last year, when innocent people were being terrorized? Got yourself in a bit of trouble then, chumming around with the likes of Edward Carter. Didn’t you, Stowe?”

  Stowe blanched, no doubt remembering his ordeal in the hands of Carter. Some nights Maggie still heard his screams echoing in her dreams.

  Henry turned to Ian. “Why do you not just pop him one? He’s nothing but a coward.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow.

  The crowd yelled, “Aye, pop him one!”

  Ian held his hands aloft and examined them. “I’d rather save my vigor for tonight, my friend. For I plan on making love to my wife in such a manner she’ll never forget.”

  Laughter all round.

  “And why give him what he wants? He hopes I will lose control. But you see, it will not happen, for I’d much rather enjoy my wife’s charms, just now. But first I must feed her, for she bites if I don’t.”

  He turned and held his arm out to Maggie. She glared at him, but truth be told, she was quite proud at his restraint regarding Full-Pocket Pete.

  Pete Stowe hawked and spat at Maggie’s feet, then skulked off with his mother beside him. “Come, Mother. Let’s go to the Shipwreck Inn. The company is more congenial.”

  “Not when you’re around,” Henry said.

  She grabbed his arm and hissed, “You let him get the best of you again, dolt.”

  The crowd parted respectfully as Maggie, Ian, and Henry walked into the Siren.

  “My hand was itching to whack him a good one,” Henry said.

  Ian slapped him on the back. “I know, good friend. I know.”

  They were nearly knocked over as J
osef emerged out of the inn, his head down.

  Lena followed him. “Josef, stay here.”

  “No, I must go be with the boy.” He tried to push past them, but Ian and Henry blocked his exit.

  “What are you doing, man?” Henry clapped an arm around Josef, but he shook him off.

  “I go to my nephew, for darkness is nigh.”

  “No, Josef!” Lena took his arm. “Stay here.”

  Josef grasped Lena’s shoulders. “You don’t understand. I must wait to see if he emerges from the grave. I must protect the town from him.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Please, do not speak of it, Josef.” Ian pleaded. “Stay home with your wife and unborn child. You can do nothing else for Nikolaus.”

  “No! I must guard the grave. What if he rises tonight and the evil destroying my village threatens us here?”

  He tried to shoulder past them. Ian and Henry each took an arm and hauled him inside. He fought them, swinging, and hit Henry in the gut. Lena backed away, her hand over her mouth.

  “We need to get him away from the customers. He is frightening them,” Maggie urged.

  “Let me go. I must guard him. He must not rise.”

  Ian nodded. “I know, man. But it’s late, and you are very tired.”

  Josef shook his head, showing the whites of his eyes.

  They strong-armed him into the private living quarters. Suddenly, the fight went out of him.

  “My friend.” Ian sat Josef in the rocking chair and covered him with a blanket. “I will visit the grave with you tomorrow.”

  Lena put her arm around him and whispered, “Come, Liebchen. You must rest. You are still tired from the ordeal. Take me to bed, for I have missed you.”

  He met her gaze, bushy brows raised.

  “Let me comfort you,” Lena whispered.

  “But the babe…”

  “The babe will not be harmed by our affection.” Lena kissed him upon the cheek.

  Maggie mixed a sleeping draught in a cup of ale and handed it to him.

  He gulped it and shuddered. “You do not understand,” he cried, throwing off the blanket and rising again. “In my country, when the sun sets, the demons rise from the earth.”

  Ian pressed him down into the chair again. “You are causing alarm among your customers. They will go elsewhere to take their refreshment, and everything you’ve worked for will be for naught.”

  Josef did not heed him but stared fixedly at the door, quivering. They could only wait for the sleeping draught to work.

  Lena stood over Josef, wringing her hands in her apron.

  “Lena,” Ian said gently. “You must rest.”

  She sighed and took her seat beside the fire.

  “Maggie,” Ian said. “I see the way you’re holding your shoulder. Is it bothering you?”

  She shrugged, then winced at the movement. “I am fine.”

  He led her to the divan and sat her down, then paced so rapidly it made her head spin. One arm crossed his chest to brace his other arm, fingers tapping. Slumped in the armchair, Josef drained his ale and held the mug out for another one. Ian poured the women some as well.

  Maggie nodded her thanks. “Why do you not sit down, husband?”

  He paused in front of her. “Indeed, I cannot.” His eyes burned into hers. “I am thinking.”

  “Can you not think sitting down? You make me tired just watching you.”

  He stopped. “I’m sorry. You know I cannot help it.”

  She nodded.

  They waited in the quiet of their parlor, the sounds of revelry drifting under the door.

  Ian stood behind Maggie, massaging her shoulders. When she winced, he asked, “Why did you not tell me your shoulder was hurting?”

  “I had other more important things to worry about.”

  “When you suffer pain, I do as well.” His eyes reflected the blazing fire.

  He was angry with her? She was only going about her business in his absence.

  Josef slumped in his chair and stared sightlessly at the fire.

  Ian ceased his ministrations and laid his hands upon her head. His fingers nearly burned her with his restrained power. “I put more sleeping draught in his ale.”

  Lena leaned her head back and closed her eyes, while Ian resumed his manipulation of Maggie’s shoulders. “You would not hesitate to tell your friend to rest. Why can you not take a care for yourself?”

  The words fought their way up her throat. “I did what I had to do, since you were gone so long. Indeed, I did the work of two people. I am not complaining. I just feel it necessary to remind you, for you seem to have forgotten.”

  She had not meant to say it aloud, but she would not stomach his anger, for she had only done what was necessary.

  His hands grew still, and he moved to stand in front of the fire, long back stiff, hair undone about his shoulders. “You know I had to go,” he said, voice low. “I wish I could be the perfect man, without affliction. But I am not, so I will find the remedy for what ails me.” He turned, and her heart clenched as anguish assaulted his features.

  “I am sorry, Maggie. I warned you what you were in store for when you married me. Even though you had no choice in the matter.”

  A flush of shame washed over her. Damn! Could she not keep quiet? He could not help it, could not control it. “Ian. I’m…”

  Josef rustled in his chair. “He was such a good lad, my Nikolaus.”

  “I am sorry, old friend,” Ian said.

  Indeed, they had known each other since childhood, when Josef had come from Serbia as an indentured servant.

  “You people do not understand.” Josef’s voice echoed in the quiet room. “In my village by the Moldova River, evil is afoot at night. Monsters prowl with teeth bared, attacking the innocent. One such animal must have attacked my Nikolaus, I am sure of it. I fought for his life upon the ship, as he moaned and burned with fever.”

  “The sedative has calmed him,” Ian murmured. “But nothing will take the pain of loss away.”

  The firelight fell upon Ian’s throat, highlighting the powerful muscles and the bulge of his shoulders, as he stared at Josef with deep concentration. “Fever? It sounds like disease, but I know not of any disease with such strange manifestations. I will study on it.”

  “They wanted to throw him overboard. Even as he lay there, dying.”

  Perhaps it would help Josef if he could continue to talk about his experience. But soon his head began nodding in the ale, and Ian gently removed the mug from his hand and laid him on the divan. Maggie covered him with a blanket.

  “I cannot predict his behavior,” Ian said. “But he cannot continue repeating his tirade tonight. I think we should stay for a while, to make sure he will sleep.”

  His eyes avoided her. If she could only touch him, soothe the stiffness away, tell him how sorry she was. She should not punish him for something he had no control over. And he hadn’t left on a lark to enjoy the pleasures of travel.

  “He must be exhausted from his ordeal,” Maggie said. “To have seen the things he thinks he’s seen.”

  Ian glanced her way, finally. “Do you think Josef has lost his wits?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “For we have seen stranger things than this, things I never thought were possible. And it’s as if…”

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “It is fanciful and silly.”

  “Maggie, I have told you before.” He came to her and took her hands. “Nothing you ever say to me will be taken lightly, for every word you utter is like holy writ to me.”

  She moved into his embrace, her hands on his bristled cheeks. He was very warm. “The spirit of the holy nun lives in me still.”

  He nodded.

  “Something happened today.”

  Josef moaned in his sleep. “Let me in. The beast is out there, in the woods, and he comes for us. Where are your weapons? Where is Ana? Has she not arrived? The beast is coming; do you hear it? No, the floo
r is sticky with her blood, I slipped in it, I could not help it,” Josef screamed.

  “But I just saw her yesterday,” he continued in a voice not his own. “She sold chestnuts in the market. How can this be her, neck laid open? She will not stop bleeding. Her eyes opened, she snarls.”

  And his own voice returned. “No, stop screaming, sister. We must bury her, bury her deep.”

  Fear rippled down Maggie’s back.

  Josef’s face contorted in pain, and he tossed about, crying.

  “Josef, wake up.” Ian clutched him. “You are dreaming.”

  “Josef.” Lena kneeled beside him. “Josef, wake up.”

  Then, as quickly as it had begun, the nightmare stopped. He rolled over and began to snore.

  “Lena, get up.” Maggie lifted her from her kneeling position. “It was just a dream.”

  Maggie tamped down her fear and looked to Ian for reassurance. She did not receive it, for he wore the same stunned expression she knew she must have.

  “I had best go out and help Sabine,” Ian said.

  “We will take good care of Josef,” Maggie said.

  Lena nodded, her face pinched with concern. “He is so changed. When he saw how much the babe had grown, he was happy, I could tell. He has long wanted to be a father, but he could not stop talking about these horrors. What if they are true, Maggie? What am I to do?”

  “He just needs time to recover, Lena. He will come to his senses.”

  Lena nodded, concern casting shadows on her hollow cheeks.

  “Try not to worry. It is bad for the child.”

  Sabine arrived carrying a tray with sandwiches and tea. Good. Lena needed to eat. Maggie reached into her basket and pulled out a flask.

  “Here, Lena. Drink this first before you eat. It is a remedy for morning sickness we haven’t tried yet. Ian brought it back. Sip it.”

  She took a timid swallow and made a face. “Blech! What is in this?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Lena shook her head. “I am not hungry. How can I think of eating when my Josef is in such a state?”

  “You do it for the child.”