St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

  A rickety old ladder led up to the open loft and he held it while she ascended. ‘Throw your clothes down as soon as you’re ready,’ he called when she was safely settled among the piles of sweet-smelling hay. Then she heard him bustling about beneath her making the fire and seeing to Barbary.

  With stiff fingers she battled with the frogging of her tightly-buttoned jacket and slowly untied the drawstring of the long skirt that clung wetly to her legs. Standing in her petticoat she squeezed its lace-edged hem and water dripped to the ground. She was soaked through to the skin so she divested herself of her underwear as well and was finally wearing only her chemise. When she felt it, to her dismay she found that even it was wet. There was nothing for it but to strip completely and she pulled the thin cambric over her head with upraised arms hoping that he was not spying on her. When she was naked she crept to the edge of the loft and, lying on her stomach in the hay, peered into the semi-darkness of the barn below.

  Jesse was away in a far corner, rubbing down his horse with a wisp of hay and crooning lovingly to it. Confident of him now, she smiled as she dropped her clothes one by one on to the floor below. From her eyrie she soon heard him coming back to pick them up and she watched as he carefully spread them out on a makeshift arrangement of posts to dry before the fire. When he had finished, she still lay quietly watching everything he did.

  When he called up, ‘Are you asleep?’ she didn’t answer because she was half-mesmerised by exhaustion and the dancing flickering of the flames reflected on the greystone walls around her. Through the half-open door of the barn she could see that darkness had gathered outside while below her the fire blazed up in a circle of light. She felt safe and happy as she lay with her head cradled in one arm watching him. The hay prickled her aching body but she did not mind for she was warm and comfortable and safe. I trust this man, she thought. He’ll do nothing to hurt me… and little by little she dropped into a comforting state of half-consciousness, drifting in and out of the sleep of exhaustion.

  Once, around midnight, she opened her eyes and looking down into the vault saw that he too had stripped. His clothes were hanging beside hers and he was crouched facing away from her and staring into the fire. The long brown back that was turned towards her looked muscular and strong and there were two raised lines of muscle running down each side of his spine. His broad shoulders and slim waist made her thrill and she wondered what he would do if she crept down the ladder and slid her fingers up that enticing indenture in his back… In her half-conscious mind she wondered too what he would do if she called to him. I want to, she thought drowsily, I want him up here beside me among this soft hay with the darkness outside and the fire glowing down below. I want him to make love to me. She closed her eyes as a glorious shudder swept through her at the forbidden thought but she drove it away because she knew that gypsies, in spite of their vagrant ways and lax behaviour about other’s property, were very moral in matters of sex and rarely slept with their wives before they married them. He’d be shocked if I suggested such a thing, she thought, and with a sigh fell asleep again.

  Chapter 16

  Wednesday, 5 August

  A terrible scene met the eyes of Professor Thompson when he hurried into the Duke’s bedroom at Sloebank Castle. By the light of candles dripping wax from silver sconces on the walls he could see bloodsoaked rags piled on the carpet at each side of the bed. A crowd of onlookers, male and female stood around in their nightclothes gaping in horror while servants went rushing in and out, elbowing everyone out of the way in their haste to bring more bandages, ewers and basins of hot water.

  The injured man lay in the middle of a huge bed with a coronet finial on its dome-like roof and richly embroidered curtains looped up at each side. His face was as yellow as beeswax and strips of white material that rapidly took on a terrible reddish stain were bound roughly over his wounds.

  Thompson, who had been summoned by a servant who knew that the famous Professor was staying at the Cross Keys, took one look at this hellish tableau and banished most of the onlookers. ‘Get out of here and let me get on with my work! Go away. I’ll send for you if I need any of you,’ he raged, driving them out before him. Then he climbed on to the vast bed and knelt beside the gasping man. The Duke’s eyes were open but he could make no sound.

  Gently Thompson started to unwind the blood-drenched dressings and blanched when he saw the damage that Billy had inflicted. The Duke’s ribs were crushed, and deep lacerations covered the patient’s face, neck and chest. His arms and legs were broken in several places as if he’d been stamped on by a giant and judging by his breathing and the rasping sound in his chest, his lungs had been punctured.

  When he climbed back on to the floor again, Wattie looked sombrely at a white-faced Edmund Lacey who had been allowed to stay with the patient. He told him, ‘There’s not much I can do except wait for the end. I’ll give him opium to ease the pain. Will he be wanting a minister of religion, do you think?’

  Edmund shook his head. ‘He had his fortune told by an old gypsy on Monday night. She said he hadn’t long to go,’ he said in a quavering voice.

  ‘Coincidence,’ snapped Thompson. ‘Who’s the heir?’

  The Duke’s friend told him, ‘It’s going to be a matter of dispute. He’s only got cousins, all pretty distant and all with a claim. That’s why he was planning to marry and settle the business.’

  ‘He left it a little too late,’ said Thompson, looking at the body on the bed.

  * * *

  The women of Gib Faa’s family were on the road outside Kirk Yetholm when Thomassin caught up with them. They were horrified by her nakedness and angrily questioned her, ignoring the fact that she was sobbing and hysterical. Then old Rachel stepped forward and ordered, ‘Let her be. Cover the girl. What’s happened to you, Thomassin? Tell old Rachel.’

  The terrible story poured out while the women listened in horror. ‘Is the Duke dead?’ they asked at the end of it. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t wait to find out.’

  ‘Oh aye, he’ll be dead,’ said Rachel shaking her head. ‘I saw it in his hand. I knew it was coming and I told him he wouldn’t be able to avoid the curse.’

  ‘But this Duke has no son,’ said one of the other women. ‘Oh, but he has a son right enough. Poor Billy’s his son. That poor demented soul’s the Duke’s bairn. My grand-daughter Becklie was caught in the park by two young bucks one night and the one who got her with child was the Duke. It was before his brother died so he must have thought he was safe enough. Gib went to see him about it but he denied it. He said Becklie was a liar… My Becklie never lied about that.’ Rachel’s voice was chilling and the women were unable to conceal their shock as they listened to her.

  ‘But it’s Billy that’s attacked him. He’s been killed by his own son!’ cried out Thomassin. Rachel’s eyes were full of tears and she nodded as the girl groaned, ‘Oh, what a cruel fate for poor Billy, my poor Billy.’

  * * *

  It was daylight when Odilie woke in her nest of hay. What brought her to consciousness was the smell of roasting meat that wafted up to her soft bed of hay. She rolled over and leaned on her elbows so that she could see into the void of the barn. Jesse, fully dressed once more, was crouching over a spit on which something was being turned. She drew back, for with daylight her modesty had returned and at that moment she noticed that her clothes were lying in a neatly-folded pile beside her. A blush swept her as she thought, ‘He’s been up here beside me. He stood over me and saw me naked.’ The thought made her furious and she dressed quickly so that she could go storming down the ladder and accuse him of spying on her. When she reached the ground she said haughtily, ‘You should have called and told me that my clothes were ready. You should’ve given me the chance to hide before you brought them up. You spied on me! That was a shameful thing to do.’

  He looked up from the rabbit he was roasting. ‘I didn’t spy but yes, I looked outright at you and I think you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever sto
len. I hope I don’t have to give you back. Does that annoy you?’

  She looked at him, made uncertain by her feelings for him. In the morning light he was even more devastatingly handsome than he’d been in her dreams. She longed to rub her cheek against the dark stubble that marked his chin. In an instant her rage disappeared and he recognised her awkwardness as he said, ‘Sit down here. I caught a merrylegs this morning and we’ve good clear water to drink. The rain’s stopped and it’s time we left. Have you made up your mind what you want to do?’

  She sat down as she was told and accepted a piece of rabbit. It was delicious and she ate more, washing it down with the water. She had never enjoyed a banquet better. While she ate he sat watching her with a smile on his face. Then he said, ‘Thomassin was right even though she tried to stab you for it. You’ve really cast the glamourie on me, Miss Rutherford.’ She looked at him, shifting in her seat as she did so and he held out a hand to stop her. ‘Don’t come any nearer. I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m close to you.’

  ‘Was that why you ran off with me?’ she asked, putting down the rabbit bone she’d been nibbling.

  ‘It must have been. I don’t know. I looked at you and thought that I had to take you with me.’

  ‘Well, you’ve made sure about one thing at least. The Duke won’t marry me now,’ she said in a laughing voice.

  Jesse turned on her in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I said the Duke won’t want to marry me now… not after I’ve run off with a gypsy.’

  His face was thunderstruck. ‘You’re not the girl that he was meant to be marrying, are you?’

  ‘You mean you didn’t know? You must be the only person in the district who didn’t.’

  He stood looking at her with a strange expression. ‘Does it worry you that he won’t marry you?’ he asked.

  She bit into her piece of rabbit. ‘No, but I’m worried about what my father’s going to say. He was so set on the marriage.’

  ‘He’ll find you another rich man,’ said Jesse sharply and, as if her remarks had returned him to reality, he stood up abruptly and poured water on to the embers of the fire from the wooden bucket that stood on the floor beside him. While the flames hissed and spluttered, Odilie stared at the blackened ashes with a deep feeling of disappointment for she realised that their extinguishing meant the idyll was over. The sexual excitement that crackled between them seemed to be as brusquely dampened as the flickering flames. The dark-haired young man stared down at her and coldly asked, ‘So what do you want to do? Are you for going back?’

  ‘What would happen to you if I did?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing. They might come looking for me of course but they’ll not find me. I was going away from my people anyway. I’m tired of choring. I was thinking of joining up with Archer’s circus. I did a turn for them because their trick rider’s ill and they’ve offered to take me with them. We’re not far from Wooler and they’ll soon be there. If you ride Barbary back to Lauriston, I’ll walk over and meet them.’ He was burning up with a strange mixture of emotions which he could not really analyse now he had learned that this girl was the Duke’s fiancée.

  ‘You’d really give me your horse? But he’s so precious to you,’ Odilie breathed.

  His reply was, ‘You’re precious to me, too, but I’m no competition for a Duke. Take the horse. One day I’ll let you know where to leave him so I can get him back again.’ Before she had time to react he added with a set face, ‘And when you go back, you must stay away from me for ever more, Miss Rutherford.’

  She stood up and said softly, ‘Don’t be so angry. Please take my hand.’

  Slowly he accepted the hand she held out to him and they stood together looking at the smoking pile that had been their fire. Then he groaned as if in pain. ‘Oh, go away. I don’t want this.’ But she leaned towards him and rose on the points of her toes to kiss his lips. This time their embrace was both passionate and angry and Jesse was the one who broke away. ‘Stand back!’ he ordered her. ‘Keep away from me. What are you trying to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. Let’s ride down together to the road and meet the circus. Then I’ll decide what to do,’ she told him in a chastened voice.

  * * *

  In the breaking dawn, Jem Archer took Billy’s body into town and then returned to the caravan where he fell into an exhausted sleep. He was wakened an hour later by hammering on his caravan door. When he opened it, a group of men stood there and their leader, the big gypsy, asked, ‘Where’s Billy? We’ve come for him.’

  ‘He’s dead. He’s in the town death-house. I took him there early this morning on the back of my horse. They’re burying him tonight.’

  Gib did not ask how Billy came to die. He had heard the story already. He shook his white head and said, ‘No, they’re not. We’ll take him. He’s one of ours and we’ll bury him our way. You knew he was the Duke’s son, didn’t you? And that he killed his own father.’

  Jem was genuinely shocked. ‘No, I didn’t. That’s a terrible thing. So the Duke’s dead, too! When I went up to the Castle last night I heard he was bad but I didn’t know he’d died. When did it happen?’

  Gib shrugged. ‘Early this morning. He’ll not be missed. He couldn’t cheat the curse. You must come with us now to get Billy’s body. You were his guardian because Rachel gave him to you and you have the say about what happens to him. They won’t give him to us without your permission.’

  Billy’s corpse lay in the town mortuary, a chilly stonewalled room at the back of the Town Hall. Jem and the gypsies filed into the half-darkness and stood silently surveying the body which looked huge on a scrubbed deal table. The dirty bare feet sticking out under the edge of the covering blanket looked pathetic and innocently defenceless. Jem put one hand over his eyes to hide his tears and moaned softly, ‘Ah Billy, I’m sorry lad, but I had to do it. They’d have hanged you anyway especially now that the Duke’s dead…’

  Gib standing behind him put a hand on his shoulder and said, ‘We don’t blame you. It was his fate, that’s all.’

  The Provost of Lauriston, who was supervising the sad business, also patted Jem on the back and told him, ‘Don’t take on, it was inevitable. There’ll be no case about this – just get out of town as quick as you can and take him with you if you want so we can forget the whole thing.’

  While the gypsies were loading Billy’s corpse into a little blue cart with the tailboard down. Professor Thompson came running over from the Cross Keys and grabbed Jem by the shoulder. ‘A hundred pounds for the body. My offer still holds good.’

  With a grimace of distaste Jem shook him off and Gib stepped up to tell the Professor, ‘We’ve not done well by Billy but there’s no way we’d sell his corpse. He’ll be sent off in our way like his ancestors. Go away with your hundred pounds.’

  Jem mounted his horse and watched the final scene in the life of his protégé with tears pouring down his cheeks. The last sight he got of Billy was an arm trailing from the back of the cart that carried him away. Then he stood alone, shoulders bent. With a shake of the head he returned to his caravan where, moving like an old man he backed his horse between the shafts. Slowly he gathered together his scattered, broken possessions and packed up the green van which was full of heartbreaking reminders of Alice – her shoes, her straw hat, her winter shawl, the dishes she ate from, the pillow she slept on. By now Jem was sure she was dead and his heart was aching. He felt as if his life was finished; all joy in living had been snatched away from him.

  When he finally climbed up onto the box, and laid the pistol with which he had killed Billy on the floor by his feet. He was determined that when the pain became too bad to bear, he’d use it on himself.

  At last his caravan lurched over the field towards the open gate and when he reached it he paused, not knowing in which direction to go. It didn’t matter any longer. Simon and Bella were on their way to Wooler with the freak show in their wake but he could not face any
more questions or sympathy. Neither did he want to ride back to the bog where Alice had disappeared. The memory of its sinister pools would haunt him forever. ‘Oh Alice, Alice,’ he mourned aloud.

  Along the road to his right was the place he had taken her when she wanted to see her old home again. It had been pleasant and shady, a peaceful place. He’d take his farewell of her there. Jem headed the horse in the direction of Bettymill.

  * * *

  The lumbering waggons of Archer’s Circus Royale travelled slowly along the rutted road that snaked through hill passes to Wooler. As they rolled along, they were overtaken by faster vehicles and speeding horsemen who relayed items of news. In this way a good story travelled faster than a stagecoach along the roads to the south. It was from a dealer in flax, returning with a load from St James’ Fair, that Simon heard how the gypsy with the grey horse had stolen the Duke’s bride at Caverton Edge races. The news of the Duke’s death had still not got about.

  Simon laughed. ‘I liked that lad! He’ll go far if he doesn’t get hanged first.’

  He laughed even louder when they reached a humpbacked bridge and he recognised the couple who sat waiting on a grey horse by the side of the road. ‘Bella,’ he said to the wife at his side, ‘we’re in luck. I think the gypsy dare-devil might be going to join us after all, and he’s brought his equestrienne with him!’

  Jesse was smiling too as he held up a hand to halt the waggon. ‘Can we ride along with you for a spell?’ he asked.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ was the reply. Simon had a glint of merriment in his eye and Bella too was beaming at the couple as if they were newlyweds. She moved along the bench seat to make a place for Odilie and called out, ‘Come up here and ride with us, lovie. Your horse can’t carry two all day.’