Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (56 page)

I had made my Decision.

With a great Effort, for the Creature was not light, I hefted it upon my Back, and with my saddle Bag clenched between my Teeth, and the Lanthorn, which I had recovered, in mine Hand, I began the long Tread towards the River Coller and those Ruins belonging to my Father that stood there; waiting, I knew now, for the time when I might make some practical Use of them.

Those Ruins were my Theatre.

As I staggered, slowly, thro’ the Night, I considered the Case of Joseph Cox. Cox had supposedly originated, I knew, somewhere in the West Country, and in his own Way he had been much more
the Foreigner than I, for all my Jewishness. The whole Neighbourhood knew the Story of my Mother. But what could anybody truly know of a strange Man who turned up, as Margaret Haynes had told me Cox had done, as if from nowhere, without Name or Kin, and not even a proper Trade to place him. He had worked here as a hired Labourer, but who knew what had been his Trade before he had arrived in the Valley of the Horse?

He hath no Trade, I thought, nor Name, nor Kin, because in Truth he hath no Humanity. I remembered the Dream I had experienced upon my wedding Night, and it seemed to me that it had been a Warning. Pig-Man, I thought. Monster, Goblin, Fiend. You did not expect that I would have recognised you for what you were.

Finally, out of the grey Dark loomed the river Cottages, like a Ring of blue Stones. I stumbled thro’ the empty Gateway and made my way across the overgrown Soil to the first Doorway, and seeing the Door to be half off its Hinges, dealt it an hearty Kick, at which it fell inwards. Dust and Dampe rose up like Ghosts within, and then settled back into the Gloom. I coughed.

Quickly I carried Raw Head within, and lowering the Goblin with much Care upon the earthen Floor, for I did not wish him presently to expire, I set the Lanthorn upon the rotting Table and reset the Candle. I had no Means of lighting it upon me, but I guessed that a country Man like Cox had seemed to be would have about his Person Flint and Steel, and so it proved. After a good many failed Attempts I had it lit, and the obscure Interior of the Cottage began slowly to make Appearance as the yellow Light advanced, and then drew back, and then advanced again, thro’ all its Shaddowes.

The Creature made a low, inchoate Sound and its Eyes rolled in
its Head. I knelt beside it upon the cold Earth and, laying my leather saddle Bag beside me for Convenience, spread open its Body for mine Attention. Deciding, with little ado, where to cut, I withdrew my largest Scalpel from mine Etui and sliced quickly thro’ its outer Garments, removing Coat and Shirt, and baring the Goblin’s Chest to my Knife.

“You will be of some Use, Monster,” I said. “You will do some Good in this World, despite your Inclinations. By your foul Sorcery you have taken the Form of a Man; I shall therefore, in you, discover that Form, and you shall thereby aid me in advancing the Cause of Medicine, which is a noble and an human thing. Out of your Darkness, Raw Head, there shall spring forth Light.”

I supposed that the Creature could hear me, and understand me too, for it gave another Moan at these Words, and its rolling Eyes fixt staringly upon my Countenance. Spittle rolled out of the Corner of its open Mouth.

It is terrified, I thought. So it should be. It hath lost the Battle; Bloody Bones will tear it into Pieces.

I had decided firstly to remove the Heart, if there was one; and thence to progress upon a more general Dissection of the Corpse before arriving finally at the Brain, which I had realised would be better examined for Injury in Dayelight than by that of one mere Candle. Having removed all Obstructions, I took the Knife once again in mine Hand, and depresst it slowly and carefully into the open Space between the lowest Ribs. Blood spurted upwards, spattering my Face. I wiped it away and padded the Area around the Incision with the Creature’s own Shirt, to soak up the rest of the Blood, which was spilling faster than I could contain it. I should cauterise the Arteries, I remembered; but ’tis too late now, and anyway there is no Need; I do not intend that this Patient should
survive. I waited awhile until the Flow began to cease, and then continued the Procedure. The Blade I held was not as thick or as strong as the Tools commonly employed in an Autopsy, and the Process was far from easy in the Dark, but with Patience and Determination I achieved an Entry into the Body’s Cavity.

The Specimen was naturally in far better Condition than the one I had dissected under Dr Hunter’s Tuition. For the one thing, it was not yet dead; for another, Cox, or Raw Head, had lived a country Life, and the body’s Tissues were taut and tough. Feeling mine Actions to have more in common with those of a Butcher than an Anatomist, I broke thro’ the Ribs and wrenched the Chest apart. I slid mine Hand inside the slippery Opening I had created.

My groping Fingers encountered the Membrane of the Pericardium. The Creature’s Chest gave a great Heave, and I felt the left Lung swell against my Fist. Reflexively, I withdrew mine Hand, and then tentatively re-inserted it. Again my Fingertips disclosed to me the Presence of that smooth imperforate inner Skin, bloody and warm, and weakly pulsating still. My large Scalpel was too unwieldy to be introduced into the pericardial Cavity, especially in the Dark. Tho’ it was mine Intention afterwards to dissect the Membrane, I pushed mine Hand forward against it, not in any Hope of tearing, but instead to feel, if I could, whether any Organ lay within it.

Raw Head possesst an Heart.

I cried out. I know not to whom. The Muscle was unmistakable, its weakly fluttering Presence beyond Doubt.

Then it stoppt.

I withdrew mine Hand and reached for my smaller Scalpel.

But then, as I sate poised over the Body, in the dim Light, my Gaze wandered across the Face of Cox, its Features slack, its still
open Eyes, sightless now, widened in an Horrour beyond any I had ever beheld in my Life; and the Understanding came to me, all of a sudden, in a vivid Flash that set mine Head a-spinning. Faeries have no Hearts.

This was not Raw Head.

I had murdered a Man.

I do not remember what it was that I did directly. The next Memory of which I am aware is that of perceiving a fragile Brightening in the Sky over the eastern Horizon, and of hearing the Rushing of fast Water at my Feet. I had left the Cottage and I was standing at the very Edge of the River Coller. There was an heavy Weight upon my Shoulder. I let it fall.

To mine Horrour, I saw that I had carried upon my Back the dissected Corpse of Joseph Cox; and in the dawning Light it seemed inconceivable to me that I had ever thought it anything but the real Body of a real Man.

Joe Cox it was, or had been; the stinking, drunken pig-Man Cox;
and tho’ I was certain in my Bones that he had been neither a good Man, nor an innocent one, I knew too that he had never been the Goblin Knight. What he had been, to the eventual Cost of his Life, was a brutish, bullying Tosspot. He should not have sought to attack me; he should not have sworn so hard against my Mother’s Race; he certainly should not have spoken with such Insolence about my Wife.

Or had it been Margaret Haynes he had been speaking of?

*   *   *

“Tristan,” said a Voice behind me. “What in all the nine Hells do you think you are about?”

I whirled round upon the Spot.

Outlined against the dark green of the Ridge Way, shaking her Head and stamping in Protestation at her Rider’s requiring her to stand, was a white Mare.

I caught my Breath. The Animal was immense. Its pale Body shone against the looming Hill as bright as if it had been the very Moon in the nightly Heavens. Its unshod Feet were feathered to the Knee, and as I watched, it raised one and brought it crashing down upon the Sward with the Force of an Hammer upon a mighty Anvil. Its Mane was braided and beribboned in every Colour of the dawn Sky, and its Tail, which was as long as that of any wild Horse, flicked like a Scourge across its broad Quarters. It wore a Bridle of bright scarlet Leather, threaded about and buckled with what looked to mine astonished Eyes like pure Silver; beneath the Saddle, which was similar, lay a saddle Cloth embroidered in a Design so intricate I could scarce make out what it contained. I thought I saw Flowers, Butterflies, Bees, and the Leaves and Branches of more Trees than I could name. But I was not certain.

I stared at the Mare and it appeared to me that I was staring thro’ Time itself, at a Creature that could have borne upon its Back one of the antient Kings of Britannia.

Then I looked up at the Rider.

It was Nathaniel Ravenscroft.

For an whole Minute, I was too amazed to speak. Nathaniel dismounted and landed right before me, as agile upon his Feet as a pine Marten. He was dresst exact as I had seen him in my Dream, in brilliant green hunting Coat and Breeches, but this Time, upon his lily white Brow he sported a Diadem of brightest Mistletoe, green berried for the Spring, and as intricate a Crown as if it had been of finest Silver-work. He smiled at me, and handed the heavy Reins to a small, hooded Figure whom I had not previously noticed, who was crouching on all fours hard by one of the Mare’s great Hooves. The tiny black Shape came barely up to the Animal’s Knee, but it took the Reins from Nathaniel without apparent Fear, and remained silent.

’Tis Bat, I thought; and a Surge of the electric Fluid jolted my Spine.

“Oh, Nat!” I cried, finding my Tongue. “I have committed Murder! I have butchered a Man!”

Nathaniel laughed. “Oh, come off, Tris,” he said. He wandered lazily to where the Body lay, still oozing scarlet over the green Grass, and stirred it lightly with his Boot. “You can not regret the Death of this shit-Sack? You know full well what he was; I cannot credit that you believe the World is not a better Place without him. Murder, mine Arse! He hath beaten his Wife till she hath fair lost her Wits—and her Child, too, that is mine, tho’ I have never owned it. He hath insulted you, and would have tried for sheer Spite to have snappt your Neck; and moreover he hath half destroyed the beautifull willow Wood, that is beloved to us both. He was a Churl, a
Braggart and a Rogue, and he hath done more Harm by his own Design and that of his mortal Masters than you ever will. “

“But he was not Raw Head,” I said.

“No,” said Nathaniel, with a strange Smile. “He was not.”

I let my Gaze drop to the small black cloaked Figure that squatted, quiet, at Nathaniel’s Side; and I wondered whether I had loved the winged Baby so much because she looked like him, and Katherine Montague because she looked like her.

Katherine’s Eyes, large and grey, and slightly prominent, set in a smaller, finer Copy of Nathaniel’s Face.

“So,” Nathaniel interrupted. “Finally using your Sight in Conjunction with your Wits, Tris! What mean you to do? Kill me, as you killed the ill-met and unlucky Joseph Cox? I think not.”

“You are Raw Head,” I said. “You are Raw Head.”

“I am not; but I have been called thus.”

“You have no Heart,” I said.

“That is true. Now tell me, if you can, why ’tis so?”

“You traded it, to Viviane,” I said, Tears springing to mine Eyes. “For a skin Drum.”

“Yes,” said Nathaniel. “Yes.”

My Knees gave Way. I fell upon the river Bank. “I made a Mistake,” I cried. “I thought that Evil could not lie beneath a beautifull Face. I would not let My Self believe that the Monster who had ruined Katherine Montague was really you.”

“Ruined? But she is not!” Nathaniel exclaimed, in plain Astonishment. “She is respectably married, to you, who love her far more than she ever hath deserved. She hath her Name, her Honour and her Happiness intact. She hath not even Cause to suffer the Shame of raising a bastard Child, for I did her the great Favour of removing it. How, by all the heathen Gods, is Katherine Montague ruined?”

“You stole her Honour!” I shouted.

“If I did, then you restored it. Now you would cast it away again.
I have done no Harm to anybody. You, by your own Admission, not to mention the Evidence, are a Murderer.”

“But I should rather be a Murderer, Nat,” I stammered, thro’ the Tears that coursed, fast as grey Hares, over my Cheeks. “Than be a Monster of the same Kindred as you; a Monster who could force himself upon a Maiden of twelve Yeares, and think no Harm.”

“You were not there, Tristan,” Nathaniel said, sharply. “And if you had been, who knows what had been the Outcome? You may not sit in Judgement upon me. Dost think that I know nothing of your wild Adventures in the City? I know what you did to Annie Moon, and to Lady B.——; I know it all. Do not dare to presume that you are any better than I am. Open up your Eyes. I do only as my Nature inclines me.”

“Nature!” I cried. “What of free Will?”

Nathaniel laughed again, and his Eyes glinted like Emeralds in the silvery dawn Light. “By my Free Will,” he said, “I act according to my Nature; and so doth the Ploughman in the Field and the Magpie in the Wood and the Leaf upon the hawthorn Tree; and so do you.”

“I am a Man of Reason!” I shouted. “And I act accordingly!”