Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (44 page)

Could the Soule exist without God? How could it? And wherefore should it?

My Forehead throbbed. Carefully, I stretched out mine Arms and uncoiled my Spine. My Frame cried out in Protest at this unexpected Release from its Confinement; Elbows cracking, loud as snapping Twigs upon a Lightning-scorched Oak.

*   *   *

Katherine and I were married on the Saturdaye Morning, before my Father, Erasmus Glass, and as many of the household Servants who could be spared their Duties for the Duration. Neither my Sister, nor her Husband, nor mine Aunt were in Attendance. I was not surprized by this, but I sorely regretted Jane’s Absence, which I had no Doubt was her Mother-in law’s doing, despite the facile Excuse that Jane was too near to her Confinement to risk travelling even the shortest Distance from Withy Grange.

To everyone’s Amazement, two Dayes after he had given me his Blessing, my Father made it striking clear that, notwithstanding the Difficulties such a Venture must entail, he was determined to be present at my wedding Ceremony, as he had been at Jane’s. It being impossible that he should visit Church, and neither Katherine nor My Self desiring that our Nuptials should take place in his sick Room, we fixt upon the Idea of holding the Wedding in the drawing Room, with the Curtains drawn and a few small Candles burning for the Benefit of those of us whose Eyes were not so painfully sensitive. This Particular having been thus settled, and the Rector having consented to perform the Service, I spent much of the intervening Time in encouraging my Father to quit his Bed for an Armchair. Erasmus voiced Reservations regarding the likely Success of this Enterprize, but he had reckoned without my Father’s Stubbornness,
and to everyone’s Delight, upon my wedding Daye he was able to sit, nigh invisible in the dimmest Corner of the drawing Room, dresst all over in his customary Black and with his Virgil open on his Lap as a Defense against anyone who might have tried to speak to him.

I knew My Self to be deeply happy that I was to wed the Woman whom I loved. But I could not rouse My Self to experience in my Body and mine Heart the Joy I knew within mine Head, and which I witnessed upon Katherine’s Face every Time she looked into mine own. I struggled hard to comprehend the Reason for this Lack, and even harder to conceal it, but I was afraid that in neither Assay was I quite successful. I could not put away those Suspicions I had formed regarding God and Matter; and everything, when illumined by their low burning Lampe, seemed somewhat flat, like the Aspect of a Landscape underneath a leaden Sky. The more I pondered upon this obscure Disconnexion betwixt my Feelings and mine Heart, the wider it grew; until for Fear of mine own Sanity I determined that my Ponderings must surcease.

Some little while after the short Ceremony, I was standing, a Glass of Burgundy in mine Hand, by the Fireplace, where my new Bride and I had been receiving the humble Congratulations of Shirelands’ Servants. My Father had retired to Bed; the Curtains had been pulled open, the Windows thrown up, and the Candles put out. I had declared the Afternoon a Holidaye, and the middaye drawing Room was empty apart from My Self, Katherine, Erasmus, and the Rector. The Rector having been, in accordance with Tradition, first in Line to have offered his stilted Compliments, I was suspicious of his Choosing to linger after my Father had gone. I suggested to Katherine that I would like it very much if she were to play
Greensleeves
on the Harpsichord, and she, suspecting nothing, went happily to.

Perceiving now that my Bride, his Niece, was out of Earshot, the Rector Ravenscroft once more came forward, his portly Shoulders rounded beneath his Cassock, and square Jaw thrust forward like a bellicose Bulldogg. Altho’ the Weather was not excessive warm, he appeared to sweat. His Jowls quivered, and I remembered, once again, the savage Thrashing he had given me in his Orchard, so many Yeares before. Staring down into his Eyes, I seemed to feel again the pudgy Clamp of his left Hand upon my Neck, to hear the laboured Heaving of his Breath.

“I disapprove,” the Rector said, “of these irregular Marriages, and ’tis only out of Regard for your worthy Father that I consented to officiate at yours. No Good will come of such a bad Beginning. Mr Hart, you have chosen, in my Niece, a thankless Bride, and demonstrated by the hurried Nature of your Union a grave Want of Judgement and of Character. Had you sought my Counsel I would freely have given it; but ’tis all to no good now; you are married. I wish you well, as I must. When it is time to christen your first Child I hope that you will not delay, as your Father did, and risk the Child’s Soule to the Devil. Good Daye, Sir.”

Altho’ the Rector’s Scolding was not altogether unexpected, I was surprized by its Harshness. “Stay, Sir!” I said, catching my Breath, and his Forearm, as he turned to walk away. Rage at the Slander he had cast against my Wife swept over me like a Wave. “You do not seem considerate, Sir, of the Honour I have done your Family by marrying your Niece; and whatever Countenance she hath shewn to you, I do not discern in it that of a thankless Bride. Mayhap, Rector, if you had proved kinder to her, who is after all your Flesh and Blood, she might have demonstrated to you a sweeter Temperament.”

“Unhand me, Sir,” the Rector said. The Colour was rising swiftly
in his fleshy Face, and the Thought came to me that perhaps he too was remembering the Occasion of our last private Encounter, in his apple Orchard. I imagined, with Pleasure, what Pantomime might ensue should I retain my Grip upon his Wrist, and he lose his upon his fierce Temper. My Grasp tightened. Let him! I thought. His Reputation will be besmirched, and he will have only himself to blame. Let him make an Enemy of me, his Benefactor’s Son, upon my wedding Daye, when I have just graced his Family with a Condescension of which they had never any Hopes. Ah! But that surely is the Nub; the Ravenscrofts must all be most put out that, if I was to have chosen any of them, I did not choose their own Sophia.

I stared, hard, at the Rector Ravenscroft. The Man was shorter than me by a Foot, many Yeares older, and certainly no Jack Broughton. Nevertheless, I could feel in mine Hands how much I should have enjoyed giving him a sound Beating; if not for the Slight he had issued against Katherine then for the Insults he had laid upon my youthful Back. Hypocrite! I thought. You are really no more a Servant of God than I am. But Pity, or something akin to it, moved me. I released mine Hold upon his Arm. “Control your Contempt, Sir,” I said. “It doth you ill Service.” The Rector shook his Arm, as if attempting to restore the Blood to its Extremity, tipped his Hat, in abrupt and perfunctory Manner, and then departed from the Room.

Egad, I thought, suddenly. He hath nothing whatsoever in Common with Nathaniel. The Rector Ravenscroft is not Nathaniel’s Father.

At once I saw, with my Mind’s Eye, the Gypsies. Kin, Nathaniel had called them. He had meant it; they were truly his blood-Kin, in a Way that the Ravenscrofts were not; and there had been,
present and evident to my then unperceiving Eyes, a familial Resemblance between them all: their savage Teeth; their brilliant, slanted Eyes; their sharp Cheek-bones; their translucent Skins; their pointed, foxes’ Ears.

He was one of them, I thought. And I refused to recognise it, even tho’ I saw’t with mine own Eyes. I wondered at the Strangeness! How could this Cuckoldry, which had resulted in such an obvious Cuckoo, have been imposed upon such a Man as the Rector? Surely, I thought, he had suspected. How it must have teazed him that his best beloved and beauteous Son was not his Son at all, but an Outsider; a Stranger, hatched, without consent or warning, in the Rector’s Nest to prey upon his own, brown, Chicks.

Nathaniel Ravenscroft. Why was I thinking of Nathaniel now? Mine Heart felt suddenly as shocked as if I had seen him enter unexpectedly within the Room. I took a deep Swallow of my Wine, and sate My Self upon one of the Sophas, until the Shuddering that had taken over all my Limbs had ceased. The Musick from Katherine’s Harpsichord glided over mine hot Forehead like Ripples from a swimming Swan.

I did not want Nathaniel on my Mind upon my wedding Daye. Yet even as I thought this, I apprehended, with a dreadful Sinking in my Gut, that Nathaniel’s Intrusion upon my Thoughts was most like to be a thing I must experience every Daye of my married Life.

I found My Self remembering the Words of Katherine’s final Letter.

What Shame? I thought.

Nay, I thought, that cannot mean anything; I know ’tis from the faerie Tale she wrote me of Raw Head and Leonora.

Katherine, seeing that I had been forced to sit down, left off her playing and came over to me, her Expression poignant with Concern. She put her Hand upon my Shoulder and sate herself at my Side. Her blue Silks rustled.

“What hath he said?” she asked me. “Oh, he is a rotten old Man, my Uncle Ravenscroft! He would ruin Happiness at a Glance for naught but to brag that he hath done it.”

“The Rector hath said nothing that I could not easily repudiate,” I answered, catching up her sweet Hand in mine own and pressing it against my Lips. Nathaniel is gone, I thought, and for once the Thought was a Comfort. I looked into her grey Eyes and mine exhausted Heart lightened a little. “He is a Fool to have tried to annoy me; ’twill only make his own Life harder, in the Event that my Father die and I be left to deal with him.”

“Mr Hart may not die for Yeares,” Katherine said.

“Will not, I hope; I do not want to lose him now, when we have at last discovered each other’s Affection.”

“Is that what he said to you? That your Father shall die? He is a foul Pig.”

“No, no, he did not. His Talk was rather of Christenings than Funerals. It was his Implication that gave Offense. Let us not speak of it any longer.”

“No,” she said. “Let us not, Tristan.” She squeezed my Shoulder, and her Expression brightened. “Let us please be merry instead! I
think our Breakfast is ready; afterwards, if you will, I shall send to ask James if he would play for us, for Mrs H. hath told me that he is no poor fiddle Player.”

“Indeed?” I forced My Self to sit up. “Then do so, and we shall dance until our Feet fall off.”

“I hope,” she answered, with a sly Smile, “that we shall not dance until we are quite as exhausted as all that, Bloody Bones.”

After many long Houres it was Time for Bed, and with the smallest Pother and Fuss Katherine and I took ourselves to what was now our marital Bed; and for the first Time, lay down together as Man and Wife.

But to my Shock, and bitter Disappointment, I found that even tho’ Katherine had plainly no Intention of being aught but willing, I could not dare attempt Consummation of our Marriage. I was not physically tired, and, as we had prepared ourselves for Bed, my Loins had sprung into Life with an Intensity so vital that they had hurt; but as soon as I allowed My Self to make any carnal Approach upon Katherine, the Image of Nathaniel entered my Mind, and my Flesh at once sank flaccid and purposeless. I tried to fight it; but no sooner had the one Image been banished, than it was succeeded by th’Apprehension of the two-faced Goblin Knight of his Ballad, and half remembered Words from Katherine’s last Tale fluttered about mine Head like Bats.

Katherine made no Complaint, but when after some little while it became apparent to us both that we were not to enjoy a Union of
that Nature, at least not upon that Night, she wrappt me tight in her Arms and laid mine Head upon her Breast, whispering: “I do not mind, my Love.” I could not help but wonder at her Patience, and the Thought struck me that she might, secretly, be relieved by mine Incapacity. At this, mine Heart sank lower. Verily, I thought, the Rector’s Words possess a sorry Irony. There will never be a Baptism to delay, if I cannot get Katherine with Child.

*   *   *

I slept fitfully, and light; until sometime in the Houre before the Dawn, rousing, I left my Bed and walked circuitously thro’out the Hall, eventually to find My Self standing at the great front Door. I moved to unlock it, thinking that perhaps the night Aire might banish my Sleeplessness, and steppt forth on to the sandstone Step. The Night was cold; Boreas rattled the old-berried Branches of the hawthorn Hedge. I took a deep Breath and turned about, intending to close the Door, and return me to my Bed, but then, from quite near, came suddenly that barbaric, porcine, Grunting I had heard before I had banished the Goblins, and I froze upon the Step, and turned again.

This Time, I thought, I must do everything I can to rid me of that Sound. I steppt back thro’ the Doorway, staring out across the dark Gardens, and listened. The Noise was emanating from the Ha-ha, from the slippery black Ditch where I had attacked Viviane. I knew, in mine Entrails, it was Raw Head.

Plucking up my Courage, I walked toward the Ha-ha. The Grunting, and its pulsating Echo, filled up mine Ears, deadening the Wind. Mine Head began to hurt. But mine Heart was pounding faster than a Drum, and my riding Whip, which I supposed I must have picked up along the Way, appeared by some Magick in my
right Hand. I steppt thro’ the thorn Hedge, and as I did so the yellow Cold of Dayebreak flooded the Ditch; and all that had been hidden within Darkness burst into foul Clarity.

Raw Head, if indeed it was Raw Head, did not appear at all as I had anticipated. Before me, to mine immense Amazement, crouched Cox, the pig-Man. His Skin was darker than mine own, and hairy as a black Beast. Beside him, in the Mud, sweated an enormous, black Sow, deep in the last Throes of Labour, her great tusked Jaws working furious upon the Femur of a Man.

A savage, all-compassing Fury leapt up within mine Heart at the Sight. I perceived that the Sow’s Labour was come of her Ravishment by the Man, and from it would spring all Manner of unclean and evil Things, countless and unending, until all the World lay Fathoms thick in Vice, and all Virtue, all Beauty, was forgot.