St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

The Duke’s face was scarlet and he roared in anger, ‘Have you come to drag all that up again? Is this just another ploy for money? Get out of here before I have you run out. I’ll make up my own mind in my own time what to do with the girl and the idiot. Get out, damn you!’ He was badly shaken and his half-drunk friends could not understand why.

  * * *

  There had been many hard times in Jem Archer’s life but he could not remember such misery as the hours he spent looking for Alice in the lonely bog.

  While he searched, turning back the branches of trees and bushes, peering into ditches and little river beds, he was in agony dreading that he would find her dead with her hair floating around her face.

  He worked his way to and fro around the moss in this grim and isolated place covered with scrubby birch trees. Bottomless viridescent pools, covered with what looked temptingly like green velvet sward, dotted the landscape. For a while the farmhand who’d found the horse helped in the search but he soon gave up and drifted away, telling Jem, ‘You’re wasting your time. If this moss gets a body it doesn’t give it up.’ When evening came there was nothing for it but to retrace his steps to Lauriston. Though he did not want to believe it, he was sure Alice was dead.

  On his way down the hill towards the Tweed, Jem met a big black man riding hell for leather southwards on a heavy horse. Jem held up a hand to stop him and called out, ‘Have they caught the Strong Man from the freak show yet?’

  The rider nodded as he cantered by, ‘Yes, they’ve got him. He’s up at the Castle. You haven’t seen a man with a girl riding pillion on a grey horse, have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ It seemed to Jem that everybody was looking for somebody. At least one anxiety was removed – Billy was no longer at large. Jem felt deathly tired and decided to go back to his caravan, change into dry clothes and have a meal before he went up to Sloebank to claim his charge, for he saw no reason why Billy would not be given back to him.

  Meanwhile Billy and Thomassin were shut up in adjacent loose-boxes of an empty stable building at the Castle. There was plenty of straw on the floor so they were able to lie down and sleep. After a while a man brought them each a mug of ale and a chunk of bread. Billy was distraught and he lay, hungry, wet and lonely, with childish tears of misery slipping down his cheeks but when he’d eaten he fell asleep and Thomassin heard him snoring. She lay awake thinking out ways of escape but the loose-box door was padlocked on the outside and there were iron bars along the top of the dividing enclosures. She and Billy were as securely held as tigers in cages.

  It was dark when she heard a noise outside the building and the outer door swung open. She shrank back against the wall when she saw the figures of men filling the doorway. They were shouting and laughing and with terror she realised they were all drunk.

  ‘Where are they, then? Get them out and let me have a look at them,’ came a voice which Thomassin recognised as belonging to the Duke. She shrank even deeper into the shadows as the padlocks were rattled. Then the door of her box was thrown wide.

  ‘Out you come, my pretty!’ said a man as he stepped in and hauled her to her feet. She hung back with her eyes flashing and her fingers curved to scratch him but he only laughed and pushed her through the door in front of him. ‘Here she is – a little wildcat by the look of her,’ he announced.

  The noise woke Billy and he was rising to his feet when a man came into his loose-box and prodded at his ribs with the toe of a boot. ‘Come on, come and join your ladyfriend,’ he ordered. Billy rose, shaking himself as he did so.

  When the two of them were standing in a paved walkway between lines of boxes, a voice ordered, ‘Take the girl up to the house and bring the idiot as well. We’ll have a little sport with them.’

  The Duke, completely drunk, staggered in front of the cavalcade that dragged Billy and Thomassin to the house, now ablaze with lights. A few moments later they found themselves in a brilliantly lighted room that seemed to their confused eyes to be filled with men. Thomassin, her hair flowing wild, stood in the middle of the floor with a frightened look on her face. When he came in behind her Billy ran over and took her hand.

  The men jeered at the sight of the two of them and the Duke’s voice called out, ‘A lovers’ meeting, eh? Let’s see what you’re like beneath all that gypsy finery, girl. Take it off.’ He was full of claret-induced bravado, determined to ignore Gib’s insinuation that Billy was his son.

  Thomassin folded her arms over her breast and pulled her red shawl tighter. ‘I won’t,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Take it off or we’ll tear it off,’ he ordered her.

  She still shook her head and the Duke nodded to a young man who dashed forward and took hold of Thomassin’s thin cotton skirt, ripping it as he pulled it away from her waist. They all cheered when they saw she was naked beneath it and she gave a cry of anguish as she tried to cover herself with the shawl. ‘Oh Billy,’ she cried, ‘Don’t let them do this to me!’

  Billy, who had been watching what was going on with a bemused expression, leaped forward with his face working, a terrifying picture of anger. His eyes flashed and his mouth was drawn back in a fearsome rictus. Unable to control himself he gave a terrible shout that echoed around the room like a wolf howling.

  Immediately all the men who had been staring at Thomassin stopped sniggering and looked at the creature who had made the awful noise. The Duke shrank back and pointed his stick at Billy, calling, ‘Look at the lunatic, her lover. By God what a pair they make. That’s no son of mine, no matter what the gypsy says.’

  As he turned his eyes to Billy there was a gleam of sadistic cruelty in his gaze, and when he saw that three of his companions had the Strong Man securely held, his courage grew. ‘So you’re the Strong Man, are you? You don’t look very frightening to me. Do a turn for us before we take you back to your keeper. Show us how strong you are. Break that.’

  He pointed to a thick brass poker that stood in the hearth. ‘Go on, break it,’ he ordered. Billy looked at Thomassin who was weeping with her head hanging low and her silken skin showing beneath her tattered clothes. She was sexually modest and for the first time was terrified of what was about to happen to her.

  The Duke pointed his stick at Bill again and ordered, ‘Break the poker.’ Then he turned towards Thomassin and told her, ‘And you take off that filthy blouse. I want to see you naked.’ He nodded to his watching friend Edmund. ‘Do you want her? You may have her first. The others can take their turn after you.’

  Thomassin, all bravery gone, was sobbing heart-brokenly and lifted her head to appeal to Billy. ‘Oh, don’t let them, Billy. Stop them, kill them if you have to.’

  The words ‘kill them’, sparked something in Billy’s dull brain. Flexing his muscles, he lifted his head and snorted, staring at the Duke who aware of the watchers, laughed out aloud and lifted the long poker, pointing it in Billy’s direction. Billy grabbed it in both hands and bent it into a loop as if it was a green twig. Then he advanced closer on the man in the chair who stood up in a panic and reached behind him for another fire iron which happened to be a long fork.

  He jabbed it towards Billy’s face and that was his fatal mistake. Billy lifted his head and stared directly at his tormentor out of bloodshot eyes. It always took some time for his fury to be roused when he performed and he only achieved his most astonishing acts of strength when worked up into hysteria. Now with his beloved Thomassin sobbing behind him and this man threatening him with a fork, a red tide of rage rose in his brain. Though he did not comprehend the full meaning of all that was going on, he knew only too well that he was being jeered at, and what was worse, his beloved Thomassin was weeping and in danger.

  He shook off the men who held him and then, with a roar like a lion, he reached for the fork and tore it out of the Duke’s hand. Though the other men tried to throw themselves on to him, he shouldered them all off again like ants and strode forward, upturning the wing chair and reaching for the screaming man who cowered behind it. He se
ized his tormentor with both hands, gave a terrible howl, threw his head back and lowered his brows over his eyes till he looked like an ape. Then he squeezed and squeezed the Duke in a suffocating embrace.

  ‘Get him off! For God’s sake get a gun, somebody!’ cried Edmund as the Duke’s scream ended in a horrible gurgle but Billy never loosened his grip though men pummelled at his back and hammered him over the head with anything that came to hand. He stood like a rock mangling the body in his hands. When he had finished he shook it like a terrier shaking a rat. Then, taking advantage of the panic around him, he followed a fleeing Thomassin from the room.

  * * *

  Because he was so exhausted, Jem fell asleep when he went back to his caravan but did not remain so for long. The moon had only just risen when he set out for the Castle to fetch Billy. As he stepped off the footbridge, he was startled to meet a half-naked girl flying down the path towards him. Her face was distorted with terror as she ran and when she neared him she veered aside but he called out to her, ‘I won’t hurt you. What’s going on? Has somebody hurt you?’

  ‘It’s Billy,’ she sobbed, pausing a good way off from him. ‘It’s Billy. He attacked the Duke and they’re out looking for him in the woods. None of them could stop him. He ran away after he’d done it.’

  Jem was horrified. ‘Has anybody hurt Billy?’

  ‘No,’ cried the girl. ‘It’s the Duke that’s hurt. They’re out with guns looking for Billy.’

  ‘With guns!’ cried Jem. His worst fears were coming true.

  The girl ran on and he hurried onwards to Sloebank, arriving in the stableyard where an astounded crowd had gathered. Everybody was talking at once. ‘The Duke’s all covered with blood. They’ve sent for a doctor from Lauriston. He’s in there now…’ The talkers were fired by the relish that a disaster evokes in bystanders.

  ‘Where’s Billy? Where’s the man that did it?’ Jem asked anxiously.

  Arms waved in every direction. ‘Over there, that way, downhill, uphill…’

  Search parties were organised and volunteers told to fan out and comb the area. Some of them brought dogs from the Duke’s kennels and went off into the night with the slavering animals straining red-eyed on their leashes. Because Billy was dangerous everyone was armed with a firearm or a thick cudgel. They’d hit first and ask questions later.

  Jem waited until they had all left and stood wondering where Billy would go. His guess was that after such a traumatic night, the poor confused soul would head back to security, back to the fairground. So he struck off downhill again taking the shortest, quickest way and heading for the river that gleamed in the moonlight like a silver snake. He ran along the side of a hedge, crossed a field and found himself at an old ford which was high with rainwater but by now he was oblivious to danger and waded through although he was wet to chest-height when he emerged on the other side.

  Jem’s was the only caravan left on the field. The old green van with the patient horse grazing alongside it looked lonely. As Jem drew near, however, he saw that the horse’s head was up and its eyes were rolling in fright. Something had scared it. He hesitated and stared at the caravan door. Then he called out in a low voice, ‘Billy, Billy. It’s Jem, Billy.’

  A sound like a bear snorting came from inside and that was followed by an almighty crash. Crockery was being broken inside the van. There was another smash and a series of terrible thuds which told Jem that Billy was berserk and breaking up everything within reach in a frenzy of violence. Wearily the burly man climbed the steps and kicked the door open. Billy was standing facing him with his back against the rear wall of the caravan. Broken dishes were piled around his feet and his hands were held out in front of him with the fists open and reaching like terrible claws. His eyes were rolling as if he was about to have a fit.

  ‘Billy, it’s me, it’s Jem,’ cried the man at the door in a soothing voice but this time his power did not work. Billy had been driven completely insane.

  He lunged towards Jem, hands reaching for his throat, but with a groan Jem dodged round him and reached for the table. Miraculously, the pistol Alice had left was still there. He held it out rigidly in front of him and pulled the trigger. The ball hit Billy in the middle of his forehead and threw him back with tremendous force. His body sprawled against the wall before slipping down to the floor in a welter of blood.

  With a terrible cry, Jem threw down the gun and covered his face with his gnarled hands. ‘Oh God, Billy, I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to kill you but I’d rather I did it than anyone else!’ he sobbed, dropping to his knees beside the lifeless body on the ground.

  * * *

  Cruel sheets of rain came driving across the open moor, cutting into the two young people who clung together on the brave grey horse. The deluge made them gasp with the ferocity of its onslaught but it did not stop them because on they galloped, not thinking about where they were going or what they were doing except that they were escaping from the rest of the world. When the gallant Barbary dropped his head and faltered in his stride, however, Jesse finally realised that the horse could endure the storm’s onslaught no longer: it was time to look around for sanctuary. Through the swirling sheets of rain he saw an ancient stone building with a steeply pitched roof standing isolated in the middle of the expanse of moorland ahead of them.

  He turned the horse’s head in that direction and the building turned out to be a barn used for housing animals during the winter. The entrance door was open showing that inside it was dry and snug with a paved stone floor. In one corner was heaped the residue of last autumn’s turnip harvest and the loft was full of sweet-smelling hay. Jesse smiled in relief when he realised there would be plenty of fodder for Barbary. He was more concerned about that than about food for himself and the girl. The horse could drink too because a stone water trough with a wooden bucket hooked above it stood at the side of the doorway.

  When they clattered into this shelter, Barbary gave a whicker of pleasure as he sniffed the hay. The rain could be heard beating on the stone-slated roof and when he jumped down to the ground Jesse realised he was soaking wet to the skin. He held up his arms for the girl to fall into them. She stood shivering but smiling as she looked up at him with raindrops clinging to her lashes. ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. It was the first thing she’d said since they left the race-course.

  He shrugged and laughed back. ‘I don’t know. Why didn’t you stop me?’

  ‘I don’t know that, either. What are we going to do now?’ she asked.

  His hands were still loosely holding her around the waist and he half-hugged her to him as if he was reluctant to let her go but he knew he had to break the spell and did so by saying briskly, ‘We’ll have to get dry first or we’ll die of cold. I’ll build a fire, there’s plenty of wood around. Then you’ll be able to dry your clothes while I see to the horse.’

  She put out a hand to detain him before he turned away. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  He laughed out loud. ‘You ride off with a man whose name you don’t know! You’re a wanton one. I’m Jesse Bailey. At least I know who you are. You’re Miss Rutherford and your father’s the old pirate from Lauriston.’

  She took off her hat and shook water from it, then she shook herself too like a wet dog as she replied, ‘Not Miss Rutherford. I think we can be on first name terms. My name’s Odilie.’ She paused and then another thought struck her. ‘Oh heavens, they’ll be looking for me everywhere. We must be mad to have bolted like that.’

  He shrugged. ‘You could have stopped me or asked me to let you down but you hung on tight enough.’

  She looked haughtily at him. ‘How could I fight you off? It was all so sudden…’

  ‘Are you saying you want to go back, then? When Barbary’s fed and watered and rested a bit I’ll lend him to you if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I’ll think about it but I must get dried first. I suppose the harm’s done now anyway,’ she said. She felt strangely light-hearted an
d could not decide if she wanted to go back or not. She was torn between pity for her father and the magnificent excitement generated in her by this daring man and their thrilling ride. But now, in order to think more clearly, she deliberately moved away from Jesse as if to remove herself from his aura and sat down on the dirty floor to take off her boots. The leather was so wet that they clung to her legs like an extra skin and she could not shift them.

  He watched her struggle for a little while before he stepped up close again and said, ‘Here, let me help. Stick out your foot and I’ll pull the boot off for you.’ He wrenched off first one boot and then the other, hauling her along the floor a little way because of the effort required. When her silken-clad feet were revealed, he curled his hands around her toes and said, ‘They’re so cold, like ice on a winter’s morning. I’ll light the fire and you can warm them.’

  His voice was gentle and she felt her whole body thrill at his touch. It was impossible to control the shivering that seized her when she looked up at him. Their eyes met and this time she did not want to draw away. He stared back entranced and then, very slowly, sat down beside her and leaned forward to brush her lips with his. Their kiss was tentative at first but then grew more urgent. They held it for a long time.

  ‘That’s why I did it,’ he said when they finally drew apart, still staring at each other.

  Odilie was having difficulty in breathing and was afraid that she might faint. She put a hand to her head and sighed, ‘I’m giddy.’

  ‘You’re chilled through,’ he told her in the brisk tone again, which he could adopt so swiftly. ‘Look, while I’m making the fire, climb that ladder to the hayloft, take off your wet clothes and throw them down to me. I’ll spread them out before the heat and they’ll dry soon. You can stay up there till they’re ready.’

  ‘You’re wet too,’ she told him.

  ‘I’ve to look to the horse before I dry my clothes but you do as I say. I’m used to hard weather but it’s not good for you to wear wet things. You’re not used to it.’