by Mary Corran
I tempted the Fates to show me what in the past I had to confront. Is my death their answer?
‘What’s that chain?’
She looked up, puzzled at the unexpectedness of the question. ‘Mother gave it to me. I’ve always worn it.’
‘Liar.’ Lewes reached down and snatched at it; the chain broke, and the charm dropped into the pile of hay. With a cry, Asher began to search for it. ‘I’ve never seen it before,’ he said angrily. ‘What is it? A gift from one of your lovers?’
‘I told you.’ She was still fumbling where she thought the charm had fallen, but an uneasy doubt stirred in her mind. Was what she had said the truth? She remembered she had always worn the chain, but she seemed to have no memory of actually being given it; the distress she felt at its loss seemed to suggest both chain and charm meant a great deal to her, but emotionally not rationally.
Omond.
At once, she saw again in her mind the moving globes of his invention, remembering how the moons had gone round and round, faster and faster until she was dizzy, and now she could recall his soft voice quite clearly; ‘This is yours, your chain; it has always been yours.’ The chain had been his gift to her, and must be a form of protection she would never knowingly have accepted, doubtless made at Mallory’s instruction. She wondered what had happened when Lewes snapped the chain, warmed by the concern that had prompted the gift; once, only that morning perhaps, she would have been annoyed at such an infringement of her freedom, but now it gave her hope.
Something of her feelings must have shown in her face, for Lewes stood back. ‘Well?’ he asked sharply. ‘What is it?’
Asher shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
A low growl came from outside the barn and Lewes stiffened, instantly alert. ‘Did you hear something?’
‘Only the dogs.’ And at that moment one of the mastiffs began to bark, deep yelps of distress, and there came another sound, rather like the crackling, spitting noises of green wood in a fire. Lewes moved swiftly to the wall and took down a heavy spade.
‘If you struggle or call out, I’ll kill you now.’ He held the spade menacingly in both hands. ‘I’ll crush your skull. But if you’re still, I’ll let you live a while longer. Which is it to be?’
‘I’ll be still.’ Asher fought to control her terror. Every moment seemed infinitely precious as she watched Lewes replace the spade on its hook.
‘This is only a reprieve, mind that,’ he warned. He gathered several strips of leather harness, one of which he proceeded to buckle round her neck; forcing her arms behind her back, he placed more straps on each wrist, then linked them with another to the band round her throat, half-choking her. She lay on her back to relieve the pressure on her windpipe, for it was hard to breathe at all and the awkward position of her arms was painful. With a last backward look, Lewes left her as the dogs’ barking reached a crescendo.
Asher felt with her fingers for the buckles of the straps, trying desperately to undo them; if she could free herself, she could escape, but trussed as she was she could not walk, let alone run.
She could not bring herself truly to believe she was going to die; it was impossible, too horrible to imagine. It shocked her to discover how very much more frightening death became with imminence. It was not so much the fear of pain, but an almost uncontrollable terror of the unknown, of simply ceasing to exist, that drove Asher on to struggle with the unyielding straps.
Her mind was no longer confused, either by Lewes’ blows or her own unresolved doubts and fears; as she fought with the leather, Asher found that these obstructions had been removed, to be replaced by a chill clarity that left her no one to blame for what had happened except herself.
Time played another trick on her, and seemed to cease its motion. Her fingers became still. From nowhere, Asher thought she could hear the voice of the Oracle:
‘Mark what may from what must be;
In what was lies what will be;
Look, with eyes that choose to see.’
For how long had she chosen to blind herself, seeing only what she wanted to see in people, men or women, so absorbed by her own concerns that she had spared no real thought for anyone else? Her judgments over the years had been more the result of her own prejudices and willing refusal to see, so that she had not understood what was so plainly in front of her.
‘Look, with eyes that choose to see. Look — or lose ... ’ It was only that until now she had not made that choice. Was it too late, now that her resistance had crumbled and she was willing to look? She did possess the key to finding Vallis; it had been there, in her mind, all along.
Her fingers slipped on a stiff buckle but closed on the end of one of the straps and she pulled, freeing one of her hands, with an instant relief to her lungs. She struggled with a second, listening out for sounds of Lewes’ return, but there were only the same odd crackling noises and the barks of the mastiffs.
‘In what was lies what will be ... ’ Stupidly, she had taken the words to mean that the Oracle intended her to confront her past in the physical sense; now she saw it was acceptance and understanding which were needed, a willingness to open her eyes to what was. So she should no longer blind herself with false images of the truth, or what she desired to be the truth. How could she, of all people, have so deluded herself as to take anyone at their own valuation? To judge a man by the way he behaved among equals or in public life was a great stupidity, such occasions giving few clues to his real nature. Probity in business dealings might have its origin in pragmatism rather than innate honesty. What she should have looked for, and could not see until now, was a man whose actions proved him a different person from the man others saw, rather as Lewes had been, for no one but she herself had known the underside of his nature during her marriage. There was only one man among those she knew now to whom the Oracle could have referred.
It seemed to Asher that at that moment of revelation time began to move on again, and she was filled with a new panic, that she would not free herself and Lewes would come back and kill her before she could speak. The responsibility terrified her, now she was sure she held the key to finding Vallis, that she had identified the one person who must know where she was. She must not die, not until she could give his name to someone else.
‘See the shifting shadowlines; mark what may from what must be ... ’ The choices had always been hers to make, not fixed and unalterable; no malign Fate had condemned her to die, here, now. Only her own folly.
There was a yelp and the rattle of a chain; the barn door opened again. Desperately, Asher tore at the constricting leather and freed her other hand, but it was too late to run. Lewes had returned, and he was now carrying a heavy wooden pestle in his right hand, selected from two that had been lying on the floor by the doors.
‘Just in time, I see.’ He came over and surveyed her loosed hands. ‘If you’d run, I’d have sent the dogs after you.’
Outside, in apparent response, one of the dogs gave a low growl then grew silent. Asher, watching the hand that held the pestle, knew with unwelcome clarity that her death was very close, that any move on her part would provoke it. She froze, hardly daring to breathe. Odd flashes of thought came to her; resentment, that she should die at the hands of a man so worthless; anger, that she should die because of her own stupidity, when she was unprepared and unresigned and there was still something vital she must do.
Lewes lifted the pestle behind and above his head; her eyes followed it but her body would not move in response to her commands, her muscles locked rigid. Sweat formed on her brow. She was totally unprepared for the suddenness with which events were moving.
‘It’ll be quicker than you deserve,’ Lewes said darkly, as his body tensed. ‘Good riddance, wife. Your luck’s done, but mine begins again!’
‘No!’ Barely in time, she kicked out, catching Lewes on the knee as he struck, giving herself time to roll to one side, and the pestle landed heavily on the hay, not her head. Instantly, he reached for her hair to hold
her still, readying himself for a second blow; she raised her hands frantically to ward him off, seeing in that moment all the patterns in her mind instantly still, and knew them at last for the lines of her future lives, and they were telling her there was no more time, no second chance —
‘Stay still!’ Lewes barked as she clawed at him.
‘No!’ She screamed the word out.
‘No,’ came a second, deeper voice from the doorway.
The shock was so great that Lewes lowered his weapon, although he maintained his grip on Asher’s hair. Turning sideways, very slowly, he stared toward the door where Mallory stood, sword unsheathed.
‘Let her go, Lewes.’
He looked as if he could not believe what he saw; his mouth gaped open and eyes widened as he took in the presence of his enemy. Mallory advanced a few steps. Feverishly, Lewes tugged at Asher’s hair and half-raised the pestle.
‘Stay there!’
Mallory took another step. ‘No.’
‘Move, and she dies.’
‘You mean to kill her anyway, so why should I do what you say?’ Mallory asked reasonably, advancing a further step.
Lewes hefted his club, and Asher caught her breath.
‘Because it’ll be sooner rather than later, Councillor Mallory, and that’ll be your fault,’ Lewes said viciously.
Mallory shook his head. ‘If you harm her, you die.’
‘But she’d still be dead!’ Again, he pulled agonizingly at Asher’s hair. ‘What’ll you give me for her? If she’s worth anything to you.’ He managed a coarse laugh.
‘Infinitely more than you.’ Mallory came on again.
‘No nearer!’ Lewes was unnerved by his opponent’s slow approach; his grip on the pestle tightened until the tendons on the back of his hand stood out against the tanned skin. ‘Or I kill her now.’
Mallory took one more step, then stopped. ‘If I stay here, Asher dies. You’ve said so yourself. If I come closer, you die. It’s your choice, Lewes. Let her go.’ His tone was still even, but Asher saw no movement in the shadow patterns in her mind, no hope.
‘Mallory,’ she gasped, desperate to tell him what she had discovered, willing to believe that death would come more easily if she could fulfil at least that duty. ‘I — ’ But Lewes had no intention of letting her speak.
‘If I let her go, you’d kill me anyway,’ he said angrily, pulling at her hair.
‘Yes,’ Mallory agreed.
‘You’d not dare — I’ve friends who’d not let it pass! Friends not even you can pay to silence. The whole village’d know who did it. You’ve stolen my wife, you flaunt her in your house as your mistress — the grey men’d come for you before the night was out!’
‘Are you sure?’ Mallory let the question stand while Lewes’ expression shifted from anger to uncertainty. ‘You’ve no friends left, Lewes. You’ve sold them all.’
‘So she told you?’ His eyes held a glint of calculation, and he kicked Asher hard in the ribs.
‘I wouldn’t do that again.’ Mallory’s voice hardened. ‘And, yes, Asher told me. How you betray your neighbours for money; how you abuse women because you think that makes you a man, when instead it places you lower on the scale than any beast!’ He took another step forward. ‘Asher chose to start a new life, with nothing, rather than live with you. You asked me what she was worth: ten thousand of you, and more. Even to kill you will taint my sword. Don’t believe your friends will save you, Lewes. You have none.’
Asher could feel Lewes working himself up to act. ‘Mallory,’ she whispered, trying again. ‘I know the answer — ’
‘Shut up!’ Lewes shook her cruelly by her hair; she was kneeling, half-supported by him, when his hand loosed her, slipping to her neck and grasping the strap still buckled round it. She slumped, but his arm held her up, cutting off most of her air supply.
‘Make up your mind, Lewes.’ But Mallory was looking at her, rather than him, and he seemed to be expecting something from her.
What does he want? she thought desperately, keeping her eyes on his face because it was the only way to hold back her terror. It was difficult to think at all, not least because if she did not watch Mallory she saw only the still patterns in her mind which told her she was going to die. Nothing that had happened since his arrival had altered that. She was glad she was not alone with Lewes, grateful to Mallory for being there, and could not blame him for ignoring Lewes’ threats; there was no other way to act, and he would be as trapped as she was.
As I am. The thought stirred her sluggish brain to action; that was what Mallory expected. Not for her to lie passively waiting for death, accepting Lewes’ assumption she was powerless, but for her to save herself. She had allowed old fears to paralyse her, knowing the violence of which he was capable; but it was only remembered terror that held her still, and she could free herself from that at will. I will not be afraid, she told herself fiercely. Fear of Lewes was rational, for he was a man who knew no reason but his own will; but it was also her weakness and gave him power over her, making her complicit with her own murder, which was the worst foolishness of all. My life is mine, not his!’
And she knew she could move again, shifting her balance from knees to feet in readiness. Mallory was almost within striking range.
‘Your last chance, Lewes.’
‘Then she dies!’ He raised the club high and brought it down with tremendous force towards Asher’s head.
He was unprepared for her sudden upward leap, and his own grip on the harness round her neck sent him off-balance as her weight surged against him; he struck again awkwardly, where her head had been, but she had moved and it was no longer there. The pestle met only air, and before he had a chance to aim again Mallory’s blade was at his throat, and the club dropped to the hay as the point pierced his skin, then carried on through flesh and vein and muscle. He gave a gargling cry and collapsed, pulling Asher down with him, his fingers still wrapped in her makeshift collar.
She landed on top of him, breathless, and in revulsion tugged at his hand as a narrow stream of blood spurted from the wound in his throat; rolling aside, she undid the buckle and flung the harness away in disgust. Unexpectedly, from outside came a chorus of howls from the two mastiffs, but the sound came only briefly; then there was silence again.
Mallory stooped to wipe his sword on the hay. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ She was bruised, but Lewes had broken no bones. It had never been his way; there was too much work on the farm for that. She thought it odd how familiar pain could be.
‘Are you sorry I killed him?’
‘Sorry?’ She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Mallory, I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
Some of the constraint left his voice. ‘I wondered.’
She looked down at the body which had been Lewes; alive, she had hated him with a passion she had never allowed herself to express, but dead he meant less than nothing. Except that in the moment of his death, her own life changed, the patterns in her mind leaping into instant motion and offering so many new opportunities that it seemed impossible one small event — one man’s ceasing to breathe — could mean so much.
She stooped and picked up the chain Lewes had broken, handing it to Mallory. ‘This is yours, I think,’ she said quietly. ‘The charm’s somewhere in that hay. I owe you a great deal, Mallory. More than I can ever say or repay.’
‘I thought you might be angry.’ He took the chain and held it in his hand. ‘Even Omond was unwilling to give it to you at first, without your permission. He said it was spying on you. But it brought me here tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘Once, I would have said it was you trying to control me, but not now.’
‘We have to bury Lewes, somewhere he won’t be found in a hurry. If there’s no body, his grey friends won’t come after us.’ He looked down, kicking the small amount of hay stained with Lewes’ blood. ‘We can burn this.’
‘Let it be at Harrows. By the ash tree
down by the stream. No one ever went there but me.’ Asher faltered, remembering when Lewes had come to see her there, on the day of the invasion fourteen years before, and how angry she had made him. Had that day influenced him in his relations with her? Was that the choice she had made that day?
He nodded. ‘All right.’ He put the chain in his pocket and reached out a hand to touch Asher’s face; she winced as he traced an emergent bruise. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘He said he wanted my death to look like an accident.’ It was almost an answer. ‘Mallory, I’m sorry — about everything. You don’t need to say this was all my fault, because I know it was. But I’m glad he’s dead. He was like a leech, a weight I had to carry wherever I went. Because of him, I treated you as if you were like him; as if there could be any resemblance between you and him.’
‘You taught me the error of my ways!’ But he was smiling, and Asher knew he had accepted her apology.
‘So I did. As always Asher knows best.’ She sighed. ‘Just remind me of that a few hundred times a day.’
He laughed, but it did not sound incongruous, despite their surroundings. ‘We’d better get to work. We’ve a lot to do before morning.’
‘You keep saying we. It makes me feel like a partner instead of an encumbrance.’
‘And so you are.’ He hesitated. ‘Asher, you’re not the only one who made a few mistakes.’
‘Truce, then.’ She held out her hand, and he took it. ‘Mallory, what I said — I know who took Vallis.’
He paused, then shook his head. ‘Tell me when we’re back at Kepesake. Not here.’
She shivered, looking down at Lewes; there was no reason for her not to speak in his presence, but it would be easier away from Carling’s. ‘You’re right; not here.’
He grinned. ‘Now there is an admission I never thought to hear you make!’
*
Mallory replaced the key and shut the drawer of the desk. ‘We’ve only a little time before the maids will be about, Ash. Tell me now.’ He, too, was bone-weary, and the estate office was chill.
