Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (39 page)

He took his Hands from mine Arms and patted them, like a dairy-Maid about the Butter. Then he bent, righted my Chair, and seizing mine Elbows again exerted upon me a firm, gentle Pressure to make me sit; and I was so profoundly surprized by all of this
that slowly, I complied. Fascinated by this new Erasmus, who might leap up, or shout out without warning, I began to watch him very closely.

There was no Question of my crediting his Assertion that I had been insane. Did my Family verily believe me mad?

“If you are to return to Health,” Erasmus said, “and to your Work, then you must convince yourself of the non-Existence of Faeries, and Raw Head; and the Truth regarding Katherine Montague. Miss Montague cannot be here, Tristan, because I had her informed that you had suffered a severe nervous Collapse, and bade her stay away.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “You did what?”

“I acted only for the best, Sir, and I stand by my Actions. I have had always your best Interests at Heart, and I have them still.”

“’Tis not all one thing,” I cried. “To say thus, and yet to tell Miss Montague that I am mad.”

“I have never told anybody you were mad,” Erasmus answered. “I am convinced your Illness hath to do with your Senses, not your Reason. I have explained this over and again to Mr and Mrs Barnaby, and to you, yourself, when you have been well enough to hear me. Please, Tristan, try to remain calm. I have neither the Skill of Dr Oliver, nor one tenth of your own Talent; but I have tried my best and more cannot be asked of any Man.”

“If you are my Physician, you must pronounce me sane,” I said. “’Tis the least you can do.”

“I would like to,” Erasmus said. “But I cannot, yet.”

I drew a deep Breath, and folded mine Arms across my Chest. “If you were not my Friend, I should break your Head,” I said, thro’ clenched Teeth.

“I conceive,” continued Erasmus, after a Moment, when he perceived that I kept my Temper under my Control, “that it would
be beneficial if you were to pay a Visit to your Father. You have been ill, but your Physician’s Instincts are, I vow, as sharp as ever. It may be that altho’ you can prove nothing regarding the Causes of Apoplexy, you may well advance the Efficacy of our Methods of treating it. Moreover, if you can succeed, by rational Effort, in maintaining your Awareness wholly within this, real, World, I will declare you to be as sane as My Self. If you will give me your Word, now, that you will make this Attempt, I shall do everything in my Power to establish a positive Opinion in the Minds of your Family toward your Affection for Miss Montague, and with their Co-operation she shall be sent for out of Weymouth and you shall be formally engaged. An you agree, I will write upon’t to your Aunt this very Night.”

I was inclined to laugh at this Notion, and a little to weep, seeing that I knew full well that Katherine was already in my Bedchamber, safe away from Raw Head and my Family besides, at least for the nonce, and all the Delusion was upon the Part of poor Erasmus; but I did neither, and instead, decided to give him what he desired: the Appearance of my playing along.

“Thank you, my Friend,” I said. “But do not write mine Aunt. She hath declared an Interest for herself in my Marriage, and will savagely mislike the Notion of my marrying Miss Montague. She will create an Uproar.”

“In that Matter,” said Erasmus, “your Illness doth aid you, for if your Aunt formerly intended you to marry a Wife of her choosing, she expresseth no such Expectation now. I conceive she will accept the Newes without Quarrell; however, if you prefer, I shall write instead to your Sister.”

I did not know what to reply to this. My Preference, naturally, was that Erasmus write to neither; but I had decided to play up to
his Phantasy, and there seemed to be so much riding upon my Co-operation – Egad! My Sanity! Mine Ability to marry, and to order mine own Affairs, as I saw fit! I stood up to leave. “If writing to Jane is what ’twill take to have you call me sane, do as you will,” I said, with extream Reluctance. “But be sure to tell her that I will not be swayed, no Matter what Intelligence she thinks she might have heard from Sophy Ravenscroft or anybody else. I love Miss Montague and always will.”

I turned, and would then have departed the Library alone, but to my Surprize and somewhat to mine Irritation Erasmus insisted on pursuing me all the Way to my Chamber, attempting to direct my Conversation firmly towards mine Hypothesis. In this Effort he was unsuccessful; I had seen thro’ him clear enough to guess that he feared mine apparent Rationality would vanish like Smoake in Mist the Moment I departed his Society. I found this Motive objectionable enough to keep my Lips tight shut upon my Thoughts, tho’ they were bounding like a Stag.

*   *   *

As soon as my Chamber Door was closed, Katherine fell on my Neck. “If I get with Child,” she said, “will you swear that you will not force me to give it up?”

“What cruel Fancy is this?” I exclaimed in Astonishment, disengaging My Self from her Embrace and holding her at some small Distance, the better to observe her Expression. “We have done naught that you should conceive. But I would not do so. We would wed at once.”

Mine Heart reeled, despite my Bravado. If I was ill—nay, worse, if I was mad—for all that Erasmus had refused the Word—not only could Katherine and I not wed, but I could not work. I trusted
that Erasmus would not break his Word, and would declare his Confidence in my Sanity as soon as I had convinced him of its continued Fastness; but beyond that Time, what Hospital would employ a Surgeon who had been considered insane? I must remain dependent on my Father. On top of this, I did not concur with Erasmus in his Estimation of mine Aunt Barnaby, and I wished I had forbidden him to tell a Soule. I had only the slightest Hope that Jane would not reveal the Newes to her Mother-in-law, and it seemed too remarkable to believe that mine Aunt had given up her Desire to see me connected with a Woman of good Standing, and her Choosing. She would demand my Father disown me if I married Katherine; and I could not trust that he had Strength of Will to resist her, particularly in his present Sickness. Whither could we run? Nowhere.

*   *   *

That Night, I sate up in my Bed for many Houres pondering the Question, but I found no Answer. Shortly before Dawn I gave up the Assay, and to distract my Mind took up instead my Quill, Ink, and Paper that I might begin again upon that Treatise upon Apoplexy that had proved so far beyond my Capabilities. And I know not wherefore, or how, for surely I should have been in no fit State to think, let alone to write, but despite the Poverty of the Light and the Difficulty inherent in the Attempt whilst sitting up in Bed, I managed to compose a coherent Intention.

After I had been writing thus about an Houre, or little longer, I heard a Noise without my Chamber: a Grunt, obscene and gluttonous, like a Pig in the Mud. Puzzled, and alarmed beyond Measure, I arose, and pulled on my Breeches and Shirt. I took my
Cane from behind my Door, and my lighted Candle in mine other Hand, and barefoot, crept from my Bedroom.

The crude Sound came again; it was close, I realised, but not within the House. ’Tis at the front Door, I thought. And it is not Viviane. I strode thro’ mine ancestral Home, my Mettle quickening.

My Shaddowe stretched out behind me, long and narrow and unfathomable black; and, as I walked, I gradually sensed, at the Extremity of my Perception, a Mobb of twisted Horrours: Gnomes and small Goblins and Devils, crawling out of the blackest Recesses of the House and making swift Sorties across the Light, to hide themselves within it. I shuddered in Disgust, but this Attempt to frighten me was futile; I continued after the Sound, determined to track down and set about its Maker.

But as I came into the Hall, the Candlelight flared, suddenly, supernaturally bright. I threw up mine Arms to shield my Face, but in vain; the Brightness was blinding. It penetrated mine Head, mine Heart, my very Bowels, pulsing, drumming upon mine Eyeballs, a purging Brilliance of Pain.

It was mine Heartbeat, it was Nathaniel’s Snare; it was the Drumming of Hooves underneath the Surface of the Earth.

After a long Minute, the Agony finally receding, I lowered my crosst Arms from mine Eyes, and looked about me. Raw Head’s Goblin Multitude stood in the Centre of the Hall, jibber-jabbering in the Candlelight. I could see them all, as clear as if it had been Daye. I stared upon them, shocked, amazed. Monsters, they were; green as Toads, red as Liver, black as ditch Water. Many had the Shapes of Pigs erect upon two Legs, with Trotters and bristling Hair. Some had two Heads, like the old Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones of Nathaniel’s Jest. I began, out of Revulsion, to back away; but then the Cane kicked sharp against my Palm.

I am not one who needeth fear the Dark, I thought, suddenly. I am Bloody Bones.

In that Instant, I finally perceived that Raw Head, Goblin Knight that he was, had made a grave Mistake in sending this foul Army to torment me. I sprang forward, and I slashed as ferociously with my Cane as if’t had been a Sword. Head after grotesque Head fell bloody to the Floor, scarlet upon white and black; until before I comprehended it the Monsters had begun to flee towards the Door, which they passed thro’ as easy as if it had been Aire.

Unprepared to let the Matter end thus, I chased to the Portal and flung it wide. Starlit Cold flooded the Step. In the blue star-Light I could still determine the twisted Forms of Goblins galloping across the dark Grounds of the Hall. Without even thinking against it for one mere Second, I steppt barefooted onto the Gravel. To my Surprize I suffered no Discomfort. I swiftly crosst it, and ran over the velvet Grass, away from the House. The thrilling Aire stung my Throat. The Sky vibrated. I was not fearfull, no, not I. I was angry.

Before long I found My Self at the locked iron Gates of Shirelands; and there I stoppt, and wondered at my Battle and fruitless Pursuit, until in my Wondering I had half forgotten both and begun to think I ought to return inside; and then into mine Head there soft began to encroach, upon the very Edge of mine Hearing, a Song:

What? I thought. Both Voice and Song were wondrous familiar; the one as pitch perfect as a Nightingale, the other as filthy as a London Gutter.

Peering excitedly thro’ the iron Gates, at last I saw, upon the
Road beyond, approaching at an easy Pace out of the rising Sunne, Nathaniel Ravenscroft.

Nathaniel looked, to mine Eyes, exactly as I had seen him appear upon the Daye of his Departure; as if not even one Heartbeat had passed betwixt that Morning and this. His Hair shone silver in the breaking Light, and his smooth Skin was as fair as Buttermilk. Yet his Attire was altered: at his Hip hung a tooled Scabbard, atop which was visible the Hilt of a silver Sword; upon his Back he carried a Bow which I knew somehow to be of finest English Yew, and Arrows of straight elm-Wood. He was cloathed in Frock and Breeches of grass-green Satin, adorned with golden Braid upon the Cuffs and Hems. His Waistcoat, also of green, was decorated with a rare and most intricate Embroidery of white Hounds chasing a snowy Stag. As I stared, and I stared most closely, I realised that the Design was no mere Tapestry; both Hart and Hounds were really running, Hooves and clawed Pads pounding, Limbs weaving in and out, Flanks heaving, Foam flying; yet as neither could draw farther or nearer to the other, both Hunter and Hunted were condamned to Chase eternal, with no Chance of Capture or Escape.

“Nat!” I shouted. “Nathaniel Ravenscroft!”

I flung My Self upon the Gate, stretching mine Arms thro’ the wrought-iron Work as far as I could reach, but I did not attempt to open it. Nathaniel came close; I put mine Arms about his Shoulders and bussed his Cheek.

“So,” said Nathaniel, stepping back and studying me critically all over, like a Magpie appraising a Trinket. “Tristan Hart. How comes it that every Time we have lately met you have been half-dresst and covered with somebody’s Blood?”

“I have been slaughtering Goblins, Nat,” I told him.

“Ah,” said Nathaniel slowly, and a curious, catlike Smile began to play about his Lips. “I know you have.”

“You spoke truly,” I said, excited, “when you told me, that Daye in the High Field, about Faeries, and I thought you madder than I; you spoke true.”

“Naturally,” Nathaniel said. “What I say is always true, tho’ ’tis not the only Truth. It is no Fault of mine if my Listeners are deaf, or stupid.”