Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (5 page)

“I did. She denies all Knowledge.”

“Honestly?”

“It isn’t Sophy’s Stile to fill a Fellow’s Pockets with Meadowsweet. Especially not Tristan Hart’s.”

“I don’t know how you suffer them,” I said. “Thank God, I have only Jane.”

“I have perswaded them to leave me alone, unless I will it differently.”

“How? Would I could do likewise!”

Nathaniel’s Eyes glittered. “Time for another Song,” he said. “This is a particular Favourite of my young Cousins.” He laughed.

“So!” I cried. “Is that it? You have terrified them into Silence by the mere Threat of a childish Monster?” I gave a violent Shudder, intirely against my Will, and then feeling most ridiculous, pretended that I had stumbled on a loose Stone, and crouched low in the Lane, rubbing mine Ankle. “It cannot last,” I muttered.

Nathaniel narrowed his Eyes. “Ah, but Raw Head is no mere nursery Boggart,” he said. “He hath other Games besides, for like all Faeries he may shift his Shape to any that pleaseth him. Listen, Tris; dost not know this?

“If you mean, do I not know that Song, indeed I do,” I said, when he had finished. “’Tis well known, and verily, it hath naught to do with Raw Head or Bloody Bones. It is the
Ballad of the Goblin Knight and Fair Leonora
.”

“Surely, Tris, dost not believe that Raw Head would not enjoy taking Maidenheads, if the Maids have kept their Heads, stayed away from the River, and lived long enough to have missed becoming Breakfast?”

“Egad,” I said impatiently. “Let Goblin Knight be Raw Head or what Monster you will.” I was beginning now to feel a deep Unease, and keen to drop the Notion of Raw Head as quickly as could be. “However you have it, the Lady wins; she kills him.”

“That, I grant you, is errant Nonsense. Faeries have no Hearts.”

*   *   *

As we approached the Rectory we heard, for the second Time that Afternoon, girlish Voices on the Breeze, and on entering the Gardens we came across a Gaggle of Nathaniel’s young female Relatives playing Oranges and Lemons in the Shaddowe of the hawthorn Hedge. I braced My Self, but soon perceiving Sophy not
to be among them, began to relax somewhat. The Children, espying Nathaniel and My Self, immediately ceased their Play and scampered towards us over the Grass, which the Rector keeping a small Flock of Sheep upon the Lawn, was maintained very short.

I did not yet know the Names and Faces of Nathaniel’s Cousins, and neither had I any Inclination to learn them; but despite my Sentiments in this Regard I quickly recognised one of the Party: a slightly built, fair haired little Maiden of perhaps eight or nine, who had proved such an Annoy upon my previous Visit, with her incessant Prattlings and rabbitty Leapings that I had lost all Patience and chided her so severely that she had burst into Tears. Nathaniel had found this most amusing, and had hoisted her aloft, as one might a Cat caught in the Dairy, and thrown her out, threatening to wring her Neck if she told Tale of either of us to any Body.

Remembering the Event, I felt a Prick of Shame, and took Care to smile instead of scowl at her, but I perceived the Damage to have been done; she hung back, and stared at me with a strangely wistful Expression upon her pale Face.

The remaining Cousins began to beg Nathaniel to play, to which Plea he, being of chearful Mind, readily assented; and so for ten Minutes or so the Garden echoed to happy Shrieks as he pretended to be a were-Wolf and chased them round the mulberry Trees. Their Sister did not join in, but walked away to sit beneath a weeping Willow that stood some fifty Feet away. Altho’ she gave Appearance of watching the others, I had the unsettling Suspicion that her Attention was really fixt upon My Self; and I was deeply grateful when at last Nathaniel grew bored, and returned to my Side.

“Which Cousin is she?” I asked, inclining mine Head toward the watching Child.

“She? Katherine Montague. Why?”

“She has been studying me.”

“Sly little Miss. Hoi! Kitty! Morris off before I pull out your Arms!”

The poor little Maid turned as red as an Apple, and gathering her Skirts, she leapt to her Feet and ran off in the Direction of the House, leading-Strings flying. Nathaniel laughed.

“She is like a string-Puppet, that one may twist and turn every Way; only pull too hard and her Joints pop; ’tis a freakish thing. Come, Tris, let us to the House, and eat.”

*   *   *

Nathaniel and I left the Rectory at Dusk, and returned home by Moonlight. As I watched the changing Shapes in the semi-Darkness I thought about the farm Hand who had been kicked in the Head and suffered an Insult to his Perception. Damage to the Cranium had damaged the Mind. How could such Things be? I had no Answer.

My Thoughts raced to mine Ambitions. How, I thought, with sudden Anguish, was I to become a great Philosopher unless my Father agree to mine Attendance at a University where Medicine, and, more importantly, Anatomy, was studied? I would require practical Experience within both these Disciplines, or my Dreams were as Dust. I had no Idea how he would respond to such a Request. Surely, I thought bitterly, his Hippocratic Physician will counsel him against granting it.

We turned up a steep Pathway that led across the lower Fields to Shirelands Hall. Bats fluttered over our Heads. Nathaniel’s Hat was off, and his silvery Hair shone brilliant in the Moonlight ahead of me. Then suddenly, half-way up the Slope, a white Owl swooped, sudden and swift, out of the Darkness and plummeted into the
Grass barely six Feet from where I trod. One faint, shrill Scream, then Stillness: another Mouse dead. The Bird remained where she had droppt, her razor Beak ripping apart the small Corpse beneath her Claw. I ceased all Movement, fascinated. The Owl threw up her Head and the Mouse disappeared in one quick Snap. Then she stretched out both Wings and rose.

“A fig for your Faeries!” I called to Nathaniel. “I have just witnessed a Wonder of ordinary Nature.”

“Not so ordinary. I saw her, too.”

Looking southward as we now were, Nathaniel and I could see across the Valley to its farther Side, with its antient Chalk-working. And just above that—or above where I presumed the White Horse to be, in the Darkness—we could both perceive a Cavalcade of tiny winking Lights. They appeared to be moving.

“Gypsies?” I wondered.

We stood and watched as the thin Train of Lights processed along the open Downland of the Ridge and began the near vertical Descent to the valley Floor.

“Damned if I’m going inside yet, then,” said Nathaniel. “Do you come with me, Tristan?”

“There? Now? It must be many Miles.”

“You have Horses, don’t you?”

“Even so, it would take us at least three Houres to get there, and the same to return. We wouldn’t be back before Dawn.”

“What Matter? We can threaten Mrs H. to keep silent.”

“What of your Father?”

“I shall tell him that I was with you.”

That this Proposition was a bad Idea, I was certain. What I was to do concerning it was something of which I was less sure. I had always craved Nathaniel’s Esteem, and moreover I was
desperate to prove to him that in four Yeares I had not changed, and could be again the close Friend I had been previously. But I was tired. My Body was still soft from its Confinement, and I began to fear that if I rode with Nathaniel thro’ the Night after walking with him thro’ the Daye it would intirely fail me. My Limbs ached.

Nathaniel caught me by the Elbow and danced me up the Hill to Shirelands Hall. “Tristan, Man, you can’t back out. They may be gone upon the Morrow.”

We came upon Shirelands from the Front, although very quietly and some Distance leftward of the Driveway and the great front Door. I could tell as we approached that something unusual was happening within the House. Candles flickered in the Windows of both front and back drawing Rooms, and the red sandstone Entranceway basked in the yellow Glow of six tall Lanthorns placed in Pairs upon the wide Steps.

“Oh, my Father has Visitors,” I said.

“Then we must be Beggars, and slip round the Rear.”

Nathaniel span about and began to retrace his Steps towards the low Bushes that screened the Driveway from the Fields beyond. I turned to follow, only to be brought up short by a loud, sharp Call: “Master Hart!”

“Damn it,” groaned Nathaniel. “Was she watching for you?”

My father’s Housekeeper was hurrying towards us, crunching the unrolled Gravel underneath her sturdy Boots. I turned again, reluctantly, to face her.

Mrs H. was a Woman of advanced Yeares, somewhere in her sixth Decade. She was tall and scraggy and otherwise unremarkable except for the Apron that she wore, pinned back to front, over her grey serge Bodice and Skirt. She was holding forth a Candle, which
she lifted before my Face, shielding the Flame from the night Breeze with her other Hand. She peered into mine Eyes.

“Master Tristan, you must come away inside. You are not yet well—and your Aunt Mrs Barnaby is here to visit your Father.”

“Mistress Henderson, Good Evening,” Nathaniel said. “Might I be permitted to wish you Luck in perswading Master Hart to such an unappealing Prospect as a Night spent with his melancholy Father and revolting Aunt.”

Mrs H. raised her Candle high between herself and Nathaniel. She caught mine Arm. Her bony Fingers presst urgently into my Biceps.

“Unhand him, Woman!” Nathaniel said, backing quick away from the candle Flame. “Put that thing down! Do you mean to set Fire to mine Eyebrows?”

“Master Ravenscroft, I must ask you to go home,” Mrs H. said. The candle Flame began to gutter, and grow small. “The young Master is required by his Father.”

“My Requirement is greater,” Nathaniel said. The candle went out.

I felt Mrs H.’s Hand begin to tighten. “And what of your Father?” she said. “Sitting there all the live-long Daye wondering where you are, whether you have not been robbed or murdered on the Road? What of him, Master Ravenscroft?”

“You crazy old Crone,” Nathaniel said. “How darest speak to me like this? I shall complain to your Master of your Impertinence.”

“Oh, let her be, Nat,” I said. “I imagine that my Father hath told her to fetch me no matter what. She intends no Harm.”

“None indeed,” Mrs H. agreed. “I am sorry if I spoke out of turn. But Master Hart must come inside now and there be an End to it. ’Tis on the Squire’s Orders.”

Her Fingertips bit into mine Arm.

“It looks as if there is no Help for it,” I said. “You can borrow my Chestnut, though, if you are still of a Mind to ride. The Groom will ready him for you. He’s fast.”

“Zounds,” said Nathaniel, sighing deeply. “So be it then, Tristan, if you say so. ’Tis Pity.”

“Master Ravenscroft, if you’ll take my Advice, and no Impertinence meant, you’ll go home,” Mrs H. said, in a Voice that quavered slightly as she spoke.

Nathaniel looked at her strangely, like a Duellist assessing an Enemy. “I intend to, Mistress Henderson,” he said. He made her a low, mocking Bow and winked at me. Then he melted away into the Darkness of the Hedge.

“He still doth that!” I exclaimed. “He used to pull that Trick all the time when we were Children.”

Mrs H. plucked at mine Arm. “We must go inside, Master Tristan.”

She headed across the gravel Drive and I followed. I was not displeased by her Interruption. She had saved me from the Embarrassment of explaining to Nathaniel mine Exhaustion and Unease, and provided me with the perfect Excuse for going home. Now that Nathaniel was gone, also, I was beginning to realise that I was very hungry. Mrs H.’s next Words, however, caused me much Disquiet.

“I wish you wouldn’t spend so much Time with Master Ravenscroft, Sir,” she said.

“I beg your Pardon, Mrs H.?”

“I’m sorry, Master Tristan, but ’tis the Truth. He’s grown wild, Sir, dreadful wild these past two Yeares. And there’s young Rebecca Clifton with that Babe they say is his, and they’re saying the Child’s not right—”

“Mrs H.!”

My Father’s Housekeeper took a deep Breath. I caught hold of her Wrist. “Mrs H., you have always been like a Mother to me, but—” I paused, trying to determine the proper Way in which to correct her. “But I cannot permit you to repeat malicious Gossip. It is fit only for the servants’ Hall. Indeed, ’tis not even fit to be repeated there. Master Ravenscroft is my dear Friend. You are never to speak of him again in such a Stile.”

“Master Tristan—”

“No, I mean it, Mrs H. Never again.”

We had reached the Steps. In the reddish Lamplight I could see her Expression. The Woman was deeply worried. “Very well,” she said. “But please be careful of him, Sir.”

I felt almost touched. “I am not a Fool,” I said. “I know who my Friends are.”

Mrs H. chivvied me quickly to the dining Room, which was on the first Floor of the House, just off the great Hall, and served me herself from the cold Remains that had not yet been cleared away on Chance that I returned before Supper. I had already decided that I had no Intention of seeing mine Aunt, or my Father, but I was unsure how to avoid the Interview without overly upsetting Mrs H., on whose Goodwill, as Housekeeper, I was largely reliant.