A Parish Darker: A Victorian Suspense Novella (15 page)

“By whom?”

“No, no, dear boy,” said the Baron, “that would be another question. Fear not, though, as we will get to that. I know a great many things, you see. You and I are forever intertwined, even in moments when it would seem we are not.”

 
I gritted my teeth in frustration—something that did not go unnoticed by him. He pointed to my side and commented further: “I know, for example, that you have a sizable knife in your briefcase at your side. I also know that you did not bring it with… how do you say… the noblest of intentions?”

My eyes moved to it on instinct, but the Baron waved me away with a playful gesture.

“No, dear boy, I did not mean to startle you. We are friends. It will always be so. I know you did not wish to use such a repugnant thing against me. You only brought it in the event I had such intentions against you, yes? ‘Self-defense’ is the axiom, I believe.”

My breaths began to come and go at a heavier pace. The Baron took notice of this as well and clapped his hands in front of him, saying, “It is now my turn, yes?”

Thinking for a moment, he placed his hands together and pointed to me. “Who do you believe were the men that intruded upon this place at that time?”

“They were vagrants, or vandals—something of that sort.”

“Edwin, you are sharp! Clever, even!” he said with a tinge of quelled excitement in his voice. “That is absolutely correct.”

“What qualm did they have with you, Baron? Why would they be so ardent on killing you? Enough to risk their own lives, even.”

“I see you are using your own questions to follow-up my own. Wonderful! The reason they came here was the same reason you are here.” The Baron again pointed in my direction, as he had begun to do with each new question, and asked, “How many times have we met?”

Furrowing my brow, I responded with the only answer that could be correct: “If you count this encounter, we have met twice, on two occasions.”

“But, no!” said he with a grin. “It is not twice, but thrice. We have met a total of three times. Well, perhaps that is not entirely satisfactory, or exactly honest. That will all depend on your perspective.”

“I don’t know what to say, Baron. You have me at a loss.”

“Yes, yes, it was meant to come to this. I took as many precautions as one could ever take in ensuring we would come to this point—to now, to here. This room, in these chairs, speaking as we are. Does that frighten you?”

I nodded my head on instinct alone. “Our first meeting took place in September of 1891. I have revisited those moments and reflected on them a great deal. I have no doubt as to that fact.”

My words appeared ignored as the Baron continued, saying only, “Those men, the ones who came here with such malice, came here with one single intent—you saw this for yourself.”

“They came… to kill you?”

My host nodded. “That they did. That they did! And, I fear that they may well have succeeded if not for your help.”

“Who sent them, Baron? What enemies have you earned that would call for such an onslaught on your own home?”

“It is not so simple as that. Or, perhaps it is,” he answered. “I must confess to you that, in retaliation, I have reacted in similar form in the years since. I have arranged for a death that is out of my reach. Do you think less of me for that?”

I did, to some extent, but did not immediately profess as much. “If it is in the matter of self-defense, men will do whatever it takes to ensure their survival. I have seen them do as much. I have seen
you
do as much.”

“You believe that a death can be justifiable, then? We can be just in taking another man’s life?”

“If it is necessary,” I said, with some hesitance. I did want the Baron to believe me, but even I did not do so. I have always aimed to invest sincerity and weight behind my words, but endorsing the loss of another’s life is not so easily done even now.

“Twenty years ago, almost to this very day, those vagrants intruded upon this place. They indeed were vagrants. Vagabonds, even drifters. I see confusion in your face as to how I am familiar with them. Never fear, all will become clear. Those men were sent here with that express goal of eliminating me. They intended to kill me and take something from me.

“What’s more,” continued the Baron, “I must confess they did not catch me off-guard. I apologize if you felt you were in danger, my friend. I did not intend for that and would not have accepted your demise that night. There were moments I expected to be difficult, and others that were less trying than I imagined. I worked within the confines of my own foresight for our sake—surely you will forgive me for that?”

The older Baron’s manner of speaking was not easily followed, but I nodded, adding,
“You say those men came here to steal something, and that something is your work in the study, is it not?”

“You already suspected as much, did you?” he said, smiling. “You knew before you came here this day, surely. Such a revelation is not new to you.”

I nodded. “I have not acknowledged as much to anyone, I assure you. I left no word of my suspicions, in writing or otherwise, despite having suspected it since the night of my departure.”

“Clever indeed, my dear Edwin—you are clever indeed. That work has drawn to it many an enemy. While you may have your suspicions, you have no doubt allowed the finer details to escape you. Allow me to share some of the more pertinent particulars with you now, beginning with this: I am responsible. It is my fault that the two of us were in danger, even outside of the work that I have done.”

“How do you mean, Baron?”

“Well, it is complicated, but may be summed up as such,” he began, tapping his boot against the air as it hung over his opposite knee. “Back then, in 1891, I received a most threatening correspondence. It came not in the form you expect, but it ultimately served as the reason we are here today. I spoke of this to no one, as I felt the advantage to be gained from my newfound position was to wait—to await confirmation that would surely come in very, very due time.

“Eight months passed as I bided time here in this castle. Those men, those vagrants—they presented themselves here in the interim. Confronting their aggressive and unyielding nature became commonplace for me. You could say it was a somewhat common occurrence. I was able to use my advantageous position to take care of them; their mindlessness made them the easiest of targets, you see. I was able to force their paths, their entries, into areas more suitable for… dispatching. It was tiring work, but it kept my mind and body able.

“By the time of your arrival, many men had already encroached upon this place. Their weaponry was rudimentary—they took not to firearms but to blades and weapons that could primarily be concealed on one’s person. I would later learn the reason for this. Their appetite for destruction was insatiable, as you, yourself, saw near the end of your stay. They acted without a keen interest in self-preservation.”

I shook my head in an apparent act of disbelief. “Baron, I don’t understand. Who were those men?”

“No doubt you observed their similar features. They appear quite similar because they
are
quite the similar specimens. They are vagrants, in all senses. They do not speak this language, instead communicating primarily with rage as an answer to the problems the world has presented them.

“Imagine if such men—men the world would not miss and would not seek in their absence—were given a mission. This mission was a simple one that involved only killing a man. What do you think would come of it? Even if they were given the opportunity to flee, it would matter little as the consequences would be far from dire should they speak with others or even authorities. Already they had been ostracized by society and forgotten, you see.

“With the incentive of a prize or a reward, such men’s hearts would be further corrupted into doing nearly anything. If they were to resist, surely they would not last long. In essence, they had quickly proven the perfect weapons—effective and yet still disposable.”

“How did all of this come about?” I asked, reminding myself that this point remained one of the few to which I could never satisfactorily provide any answer.

“Ah, the question!” he exclaimed, bringing his hands together in an audible clap by his chest. “That is the question I have waited twenty years to answer, Edwin. My dear, dear friend, you have asked the only question that should matter. I confess to you now that it took some time to wade through the probabilities and deduce the true nature of what had all occurred, both now and then.

“As a young man—from the youngest of ages—I was hailed for my apparent intellect, but even if I possessed the mental prowess that had been attributed to me, I would not have been able to prevail without aid. Here, I speak frankly and candidly for the first time. Are you certain this is a path down which you wish to wander?”

 
I nodded, without hesitation. Our eyes did not break contact.

“Foremost, I must thank you for your assistance,” said my host of both now and all those years ago. “Without your aid, neither of us would be here now. You were instrumental, and remain so, my friend.”

“I fear your commendation is undeserved, Baron. I did so little to help you then that I can only apologize for the cowardice I exhibited when you needed me most,” I said with a modicum of shame.

Baron Lechner von Savanberg smiled in the friendliest manner he ever had in my company. “Oh, dear boy, you need not worry of such a thing. After all, without your empathy and bravery, I am certain you would have found me dead those years ago when you came upon this castle.”

“What exactly was I able to do for you, Baron?”

“In 1891, when you came to my door and I greeted you for the first time, I did so with genuine joy. It was like meeting a dear friend, but our camaraderie was more solidified than that. I had not seen a man who was not wielding a blade or axe or sword of some sort in many months at that point.

“What I saw in that moment, when you appeared at my door,” said the Baron, leaning forward from his chair toward mine, “was success—I knew how to combat failure.”

My brows knitted in confusion, allowing me to only repeat myself: “I again ask you: What was I able to do for you, by doing so little?”

“That is a question for which the answer is not so easily shared,” said he in reply. “I had already expected your meeting from some time before, after that information was shared with me some eight months earlier.

 “
On that day, something extraordinary happened, I had a visitor—one most unexpected. A foreigner, even! He spoke of many things and tried much to convince me of what I must do.”

I sat forward. “Who told you I would be coming?”

The Baron curled his fingers on his right hand prior to erecting his index finger and pointing it in my direction. “It was… you, Edwin. You told me you would be coming—along with when, and by what method, and for what reason.”

“Baron, you must be mistaken!” I exclaimed. “I am certain we never met before that day.”

“See, you are correct, Edwin. You and I did not meet before that day. Yet, we did. Do you not see?”