Resonance (37 page)

The Heart That Pulled

I
T HAD BEEN
a long time since Cornelius had felt the reassuring weight of a pistol in his hand. A long time since he and Vincent strode out together motivated only by the simple concept of kill or be killed. The old days were so old now, so distant and covered in dust, that he could barely discern sentiment from actual memory. But this? This was the past alive again; this was the vibrancy of youth pumping like fresh blood through his veins.

Raquel fell into step with them as they came abreast of her. She had her little knife in hand – the one with which she had killed her husband, and so ended his wretched abuse of her. Cornelius was still appalled by her lack of fidelity to Matthew. But that did not stop him handing her a flintlock as they advanced together across the frozen grass. She took it without diverting her attention from the torches on the boating pond.

‘Is it the world?’ she asked. ‘Has it hunted us down at last?’

‘If it has, we shall soon see it off.’ He felt a flare of happiness at the sheer straightforwardness of that thought.
The set look on Vincent’s face filled him with the fiercest joy.
Yes, Captain. Yes! This place is worth fighting for, this little island of ours.

He felt the cold air on his teeth and realised he was grinning.

They came to a halt on the shore of the pond and spread out in a close-knit line, squinting towards the lights.

‘It’s Peadar,’ grunted Luke, lowering his fowling-piece.

‘So it is,’ said Vincent, uncocking his pistol.

‘It is the entire village,’ said Raquel. She picked up her skirts and followed Vincent out into the eddying bank of fog.

Swamped with the most intense disappointment, Cornelius watched them go. The villagers. Come to beg access to the girl, no doubt – and now he would have to talk them all into going back home. He closed his eyes, the glorious anticipation of battle replaced with the tedious vista of diplomacy.

Damn my life
, he thought, wearily plunging the pistol into his belt.

The ice was thick with frost and it crunched like snow beneath his feet. Voices came murmuring through the muffling fog, then Vincent’s slim figure resolved itself in a halo of torchlight. The villagers gathered around, their eyes flat coins of firelight.

‘What do you mean, you chased them here?’ Raquel asked Peadar. ‘Why would you drive them onto the estate?’

‘We didn’t drive them in, missus. We followed them, after we noticed their horses tied at the church gate. We were hoping the sight of the torches would panic them.’

‘Is it the seer’s family?’ pondered Vincent. ‘Could they have traced her here so soon?’

Cornelius groaned. It was possible. They could have taken a train from the city, and then horses from the nearest town.
Damnation
. ‘We had best search the grounds. Douse those lights; they’ve done their job. The sudden darkness will better serve to unsettle the intruders further, and give us the advantage.’

There came a series of violent hisses as a dozen or more brands met their death. The villagers’ eyes now blinked back green from hazy darkness. Peadar asked, ‘Do we drive them off, or put an end to them?’

Cornelius glanced at Vincent. Intruders were not as common as they had once been; the hordes of pitiful skeletons that the great famine had driven across country were already a distant memory. Even in this remoteness, however, vagrants weren’t unheard of – the occasional family dispossessed by the land wars, the occasional pedlar. He and Vincent simply drove those kinds of trespassers from the place. But if this
was
the girl’s family, the girl’s inevitable fate and that which they planned for the artistes would quickly become clear to them. It was impossible that they could be allowed free to spread tales.

Complication upon complication
, he thought.

‘We must do away with them,’ said Raquel.

Cornelius stared at her a moment – her clear, handsome face, the calmness of her expression. She was absolutely correct. So why did this pain him? He could not answer, but there was no satisfaction to it when he nodded his agreement.

‘You are right, of course, my dear. Let us make a clean sweep of this. Vincent, Luke and I will take the house and its immediate grounds. Raquel, will you take a group around the topiary gardens and the maze?’

‘The rest of us will split between the drive and lawns and woods,’ said Peadar.

‘Thank you, friend. Be careful in the woods. I think the children may be there.’

Raquel and the villagers drifted away. It was not the first time they had done this; they knew their roles. Soon Cornelius was left in fog and silence, Luke by his side, Vincent at his back.

‘The children are not to be allowed to amuse themselves, Luke.’

There was a small, resentful silence.

Cornelius sighed. ‘I am adamant, Luke.’

With a tut, Luke nodded, and trudged away.

Cornelius looked back at Vincent. ‘Best to it, I suppose, Captain.’

To his night vision, the fog was beautiful, billowing around his motionless friend in softly luminous veils. The brightnesses of Vincent’s eyes flashed towards him, then away.

‘Captain?’

‘When was it we began to so casually use people up?’

‘Tell me you are joking.’

Vincent didn’t answer.

Cornelius’ stomach tightened in inexplicable fear. ‘Have you forgot where we came from?’

‘I recall the youth we escaped. I recall the mire from which we freed ourselves.’

‘Aye, by stealing your father’s ship and crew, Vincent! By clearing my father’s strongroom. By becoming
pirates
. Murder and theft were the very foundation of our present fortune. Our entire livelihood has been based on the misuse of others.’

Vincent looked off into the swirling emptiness of the fog. ‘I cannot help but think that was different.’

‘Different!’

‘Yes. Different. What are we doing here, Cornelius? Eating children up. Hunting old women in the dark. For what? That we may continue to live like leeches in a bog?’

Cornelius’ heart began to pound.
What are you suggesting?

‘I do not like what we have become.’

‘What are you
suggesting?’

‘That this is no longer worth the price, cully.’

‘You will die if you leave.’

Vincent shrugged. ‘We do not know that for certain.’

‘Things are going to improve. Once the Angel is—’

I can no longer do this, Cornelius. I can no longer live this dusty, empty life.

Vincent’s eyes once again flashed towards him. ‘Come with me, cully. We can resume our adventures. We have many ships at our disposal these days, centuries of accumulated wealth. Let us travel the world with it – take Raquel and head to South America, sail up the Amazon and see what we can see. Let us travel to Africa. Or we could tour Europe! Do you know that on the Russian steppes there are—’

‘No.’

‘Cornelius, we could—’

‘No. I will not go with you.’

Vincent hung his head in defeat. He sighed. ‘Very well. I will speak to Raquel about dividing our fortunes into—’

Cornelius laughed. The harsh sound of it frightened him; the anger he felt frightened him; but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t. It was like a tide rising. A great black rush of bitterness, and he
couldn’t stop
. ‘You don’t honestly think you can go without me, do you? How in God’s name would you manage?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You?
Touring Europe?
No doubt you would set yourself up in the finest hotels? Visit the great houses, perhaps – view their collections of art? A Byronic dilettante sampling the highest of culture?’

Vincent chuckled. ‘I know it seems out of character, but I—’

‘I can picture you now, sitting in a café by the Rhine, ordering yourself a dish of cheese and a glass of good wine. Dear Raquel, how
nice
it will be for her to sit there with you. How long do you think it will take for you to get served? Oh, and what shall you pretend to be? Her cab driver? Her servant? The amusing wild-man act from a travelling circus?’

Vincent went very still and quiet. Cornelius could feel his own heart battering his ribs as if panicked by his words; as if appalled by them. But his mouth kept moving. It just kept moving, and this vileness poured out.

‘Or perhaps you plan to take to the sea again? How easy do you think it will be to find a crew? We own many ships, Vincent, and the men who sail them are content to take your anonymous penny in wages. But do not suppose they would be so happy to tug their forelocks and call you Captain to your black face.’

Such silence fell after this, and such a stillness, that Cornelius almost reached to make certain Vincent was there. When Vincent finally did speak, his voice was immeasurably cold.

‘This is your understanding, is it? That everything I am, or can ever hope to be, exists only thanks to your intervention?’

‘You cannot deny,’ said Cornelius softly, ‘that you carry your colour wherever you go.’

‘I see.’

Thrusting his pistol into his belt, Vincent strode past him, heading for shore.

After a hesitation, Cornelius fell into place at his back. ‘Where are we going?’

Vincent did not reply.

‘Are we going to find the intruders?’

Vincent just kept moving forward, heading for the house, and Cornelius spoke no more. He hoped his silence might afford his friend some time to think; some space in which to reason things through and see the sense in what had been said. But when they came to the driveway and, still wordless, Vincent marched up the front steps of the house, Cornelius knew that everything was broken between them; everything was lost.

He came to a halt on the gravel. ‘Do not leave!’

Vincent strode through the door.

‘If you leave, you will die! You will end up like Matthew!’

Vincent turned. Within the dark interior of the house, his eyes were the brightest thing about him.

Cornelius spread his hands to him, in offering maybe, or pleading. He felt he could admit anything now. Here in the confessional of the moonlight, at the cusp of losing everything, he could offer up his sins. Oh, it was almost a relief. It was almost,
almost
a relief to finally say the words.

‘He came back, Vincent.’

‘Matthew?’

‘He was so old. He was so frail. I hardly knew him.’

‘And you sent him
away
?’

‘He stood right there. Right there in that doorway, and
he smiled at me. Such an old man. He said, “I came to show you, Cornelius, that you don’t have to be afraid.”’

Vincent moved forward to stand above him on the steps. ‘And you sent him away
again
? You think I don’t know about the first time? You think I did not hear the vile things you called him? Tell me you did not repeat that!’

Cornelius heard Vincent’s words only vaguely. At that moment his mind was filled with a blaze of autumnal sunlight, and he was gazing down into the gentleness of Matthew’s smile. These things were more vivid to him than anything.

‘He was so old,’ he whispered. ‘He had travelled such a long way. He wanted to tell me about his life …’

‘How could you have said those awful things to him? All because he loved you, Cornelius! Because he dared to be what you could not bring yourself to be. And then he was
gone
. You had driven him away!’

Cornelius pressed his fingers beneath his eyes, felt the scald of tears he had not shed for decades. ‘I closed the door in his face. I said I could not see him. I said I could not see him, and I left him standing there. A frail old man. Alone.’

Their eyes met, and Vincent knew. He knew. The terrible truth of it. He slowly sat down on the top step. Cornelius could not take his eyes from him. Finally, Vincent said, ‘How long did they have him?’

There was no good answer to that. Cornelius just shook his head.

‘Yet you kept them here.’

‘I took … I took what remained of him to the fields. I buried … I buried him in the fields.’

‘And you kept
them
here.’