Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (57 page)

“Do you?”

That Question brought me up short. I had no Answer, none; excepting to shout again mine Assertion that I was in Fact a rational Man. But ’twould have been a Lie; in that Moment I verily perceived that I had no more Faith in mine own Reason, or in its Goodness, than I had in the Almighty. A chilling Shudder ran thro’ my Body. My Stomach clenched. I realised what was happening, and in sudden Desperation, dragged My Self away from the Remains of Joseph Cox and crawled across the Greensward. Whatever Insults I had
inflicted upon the Person of Cox, I had greater Respect for the Dead than to vomit on him.

When the Seizure was over, I sate up, shivering and cold. The dawn Aire slapped me like a Glove. I put mine Hand to my Forehead and found it hot and sweaty.

“What is happening?” I cried.

Nathaniel crouched down beside me. His Coat, I realised, must be the exact same Shade and Colour as the Grass, for where it fell among the Tussocks there appeared no Difference ’twixt the one and the other. Celandine and periwinkle Stems began to creep across the Fabric of the Cloth, as if it had been new turned Earth. He put his Arm affectionately around me, as he had done so many Times during our Friendship; and despite mine Horrour at the Reality of what he was, and everything that he had done, I did not attempt to shake him off. “Virtue,” he said. “Virtue and Vice, Good and Evil, Reason and Madness, Life and Death. We are taught, those of us who go, as damnable Society says we must, to Church, to School, to marriage Bed and waiting Grave, to think these things Opposites. What would you think, Tristan Hart, if I were to tell you that there is another Truth?”

A Shaddowe swooped across the Grass.

“What?”

“Do you not recall my telling you about the Gnomes, who cannot perceive how easily they could climb up, up and out of the Chimney?”

I caught his Arm. “What art telling me, Nat?”

“Alas!” shrieked Bat’s shrill, small Voice. “My Queen-Mother approaches! She is come!”

The White Owl droppt out of the many coloured Sky, and landed with a gentle feathery Thud upon the rain soaked Grass. It opened
up its Beak, soundlessly, just once, as if it were catching its Breath, and then before mine Eyes began its Transformation: its domed Head, no longer owlish, but springing forth long, black, Tresses, rising quick toward Heaven on a white and slender Neck that was graceful and womanly; on perfect Shoulders no longer winged, but clad in a Gown of sheerest Tiffany, which even as I watched appeared to grow by teazing Turns first translucent, then opaque, as if it were a Veil thro’ which my poor Sight could but partly penetrate. But her Face—ah, that I could plainly see, for it was the Face that had tormented me ever since that Morning underneath the Thorns; an high cheeked, ivory skinned Vision more beautifull than Joy, than Wonder itself; yet more dreadful to my Sight than black Despair—for as it was the Countenance of Viviane, so too was it that of Annie Moon, of Lady B.——, of Polly and of Mrs Haywood and of Margaret Haynes; of my Mother, and Katherine Montague. And then it was Viviane’s once more, Viviane’s and none other’s, glorious in the dawning Rays of the uplifting Sunne. My Forehead was burning. My raked Shin roared.

How is this possible? I thought. How is this real? I began to quake.

Nathaniel instantly got up from my Side, and stepping forward apace, fell upon one Knee at the Faerie Queen’s Feet. Meadow Flowers tumbled from his Pockets. “My Lady Viviane,” he said.

Viviane lowered her magnificent Gaze, and smiled. Her Expression was tender. But her Teeth still are sharp, I thought.

“Ah,” she said. The pure Note of her Voice was brighter than the singing Wren. “My Goblin Knight. How doth your Hunting, my Lord? Hast brought down thy Hart?”

“No, My Lady.”

“So,” Viviane said.

Do not give her your Name, Nathaniel had told me. I remained silent.

Viviane steppt toward me. As she walked, a pure Sliver of Brilliance crept over the Horizon to the East, and the Sky at her Back became the Daye’s Cradle, radiating into fragile Bands of burnished Saffron and palest Blue. Yet for all this, the Grass beneath her Feet could have out-shone the brightest Sunne, for where she trod it sparkled and winked incandescent, like the white Heart of a blacksmith’s Fire.

“Caligula,” Viviane said.

“Viviane.” I bowed mine Head.

“You owe me a Debt, Caligula. Art ready to pay it?”

“I did not ravish you, Viviane,” I said, getting unsteadily to my Feet. She seemed to grow even taller as I rose, so that when I finally stood upright before her it was as if I faced a Goddess, or a Titaness of antient Greece, or, perhaps, an hawthorn Tree. “I know that I did not. My Guilt was wrongly placed. It was not mine, and it was not for thee.”

“No,” said Viviane. She shook her Head, and her many Earrings chimed and sparkled with the Motion. “You did not. And that is well for you, for to have done so must surely have meant your Death. But you thought to force your Will on me, regardless of mine; you, a mere Man, and a mortal Man, besides. ’Tis not so unlike a Matter, in my Mind.”

“I am not that Kind of Monster!” I shouted.

“What Kind, then, are you?” Viviane said. “Wilt pay? For I require Reparation of you for the Insult you did me, and I shall have it. If you will not pay willingly, then for seven Generations my Curse shall fall upon every male Heir of your House. Misery shall be your Lot; your Wives shall die, your Children wither in the Womb. Answer.”

I knew that it was Truth, as readily as I knew my right Hand. “What wouldst have of me?” I whispered. “I am not ready to die!”

Viviane raised her dark Head and looked down upon me. My Knees began to shiver. “Thinkst,” she said, “that this Fool who lies at our Feet was ready? He was not; Death came, you came, regardless. Now he is released from all his Duties. I have no Interest in your Release, Caligula. I want your Service.”

“My Service?”

“Seven Generations shalt endure, in my Service, Caligula.”

For the second Time my trembling Knees gave Way. I fell before her, on the silver Grass. “No!” I cried. “No! Oh, I beg you, Viviane, if you have any Mercy in your Heart. I cannot pay you thus! I cannot! I have a Wife, and she is with Child! I cannot leave her!”

“Cursed, then, be.”

In my Mind’s Eye I saw Katherine, beautifull and lost and very much in need; and I knew that if I were to be gone, she would be on her own, exiled within her crystal Shell, the which I had penetrated with so little Effort that I had forgotten it was there. Oft had I pondered whether I would live without her—but would she live, I thought, without me? Who would tell her what to do? Then I remembered again my poor innocent unborn Child, and the Apprehension woke within my Breast that it was indeed a male, upon whom Viviane’s Curse would fall, and fall the heavier for its Lack of Desert; and I wondered how I could consider letting such an Event come to pass.

Nathaniel now rose up from his Knee, and came once again to my Side. He bent over me, and putting both his Hands upon my Shoulders, stared into mine Eyes. “Come with us,” he said. “Come with us, and we shall hunt together, Brother with Brother, Yeare by Yeare, until the Sunne grow cold and the Stars revolve no longer
in the Firmament. There is naught to fear. My Lady’s Service is neither arduous nor displeasing. What a great Jest it shall be! What Mischief we shall make! What Wonders we shall see! What Joys! What Marvells! What untold, incalculable Delights!”

If I had been an Hero, if I had been an Hercules or a Theseus; or if I had been sung about in any of Nathaniel’s Ballads; if I had been bold Jack the Giant Killer, or the Brother of Bluebeard’s darling Wife, I should have in that Instant stolen me Nathaniel’s own silver hilted Dagger from his Belt and plunged it right thro’ his traitorous Breast, and thus avenged us all, my Katherine, My Self; but even as I thought it thus I knew I had no Power left in me to slay my dearest Friend. I could not do it. I could not. I loved him.

And I wanted to say Yes. And I understood, tho’ I would have torn my Tongue out sooner than admit it, that I wanted to say Yes not only because I wanted to save my Son, but because I wanted to leave with Nathaniel, to join his Gypsies—or his Faeries, for such they really were—for My Self; that I need never again think about Viviane, or Joe Cox, or Annie, or Lady B.——; or my poor Father, or Erasmus, or little Simmins; or my Sister and her dying Marriage and her Mother-in-law and Barnaby and the half ruined willow Wood. I remembered those bucolic Dayes spent a-walking with Nathaniel in the Country about Collerton and Shirelands Hall, and I wished, more than ever I had wished anything, for their Return. I had been vice-less, then; vice-less and free of this great and present Grief that rolled over and over mine Heart like a Millstone. I looked into the verdant Glitter of Nathaniel’s Eyes and I wanted to forget that he, Nathaniel Ravenscroft, who had been to me closer than a Brother, was Raw Head. He was Raw Head, and he had ravished Katherine, my Katherine. He was Bat’s Father. But – and I heard, rather than I thought it—but—there had been
Wine and Laughter on his Lips, and mayhap he had intended no Harm. Mayhap, being Nathaniel Ravenscroft, he had intended nothing at all, and had merely acted, rashly, capriciously, without Reflection, without Reason, without Thought.

I had been rash also. I contemplated my too-soon Marriage, and my coming Boy, and how unready I was to raise him; and all at once it seemed to me that both he and my Katherine would be far better off if I was gone. My Son had a Murderer for a Father. What would happen if the Matter came to Court? I had slain an innocent Man; innocent, at least, of the Crime for which I had contemned him. Perhaps, I would not hang, since I could perhaps plead Benefit of Clergy and Defense of Self besides; but it would be a terrible thing for Katherine, that I should stand Trial; and the Shame of it would kill my Father.

Mayhap Nathaniel had made Katherine’s Child a better Father than I would.

“But I do love Katherine,” I said. “And she me.”

“Then so much the Better,” Nathaniel said, “that you come away with us now, and spare her the Ordeal of your facing the Assizes for the killing of this verminous Lout.”

His hand moved to his Dagger’s Hilt.

The white Mare stamped her Foot impatiently, and the Bridle rang out sharp against the violet Dawn. Bat ran her clawed Hand tenderly down the Creature’s nearside Leg, bidding her softly to be still and patient just a little while longer. Then she turned her Attention, like a steel Lance, upon me, and for the first time, her grey Eyes met with mine from beneath the black Hood of her Cloak. The Force of her Look shattered my Phantasy, as if ’twere Glass.

They have Laws, Katherine had said. Laws that cannot be broken. I had promised Bat that I would take her home if she fetched
Nathaniel to me, and because she had fulfilled her Part of that Bargain, the Conclusion that I would fulfil mine was as inevitable as the End of Sunnerise. I must take Bat home. Not thro’ any Dictate of Honour, or even of Love, but because if I did not, then it would never have been possible that she had done her Part. Time had reversed itself; the Consequence had been prior to the Cause—and yet impossible as this ought to have been, it was not only possible, but Fact. What other Things, I wondered, might happen thus?

I shook My Self. “I must go home, Nat,” I said. “I must go home, and take my Wife’s Daughter with me. I have given her my Word.”

The white Sunne froze upon the far Horizon. There was Silence. Then, Viviane said: “What?” The Aire shook. “What?” she repeated. “Bat! Come forth!”

The little Bat scuttled tentatively forward over the wet Ground. For the first Time, now, since she had been a Baby in Mary Fielding’s Kitchen and in mine Arms, I perceived clearly her Visage and Shape; and even as mine Heart skippt for Love of her, my Stomach lurched.

Katherine’s Eyes, Nathaniel’s Face; yet the knotted Hair that spilled rough around her sharp Cheekbones was dirty yellow in Colour, and her long, pointed Ears violently twitched at every tiny Rustle in the Grass or in the Aire. Not an Human Child; no, no; despite all that I had said to Mary, despite everything I had believed. Her Hands were nut-brown, as were her bare Feet, and from the Tip of every Digit projected a sharp, black Claw of astonishing Length. But most disturbing of all was the Method of her Locomotion, for she did not walk, or even crawl as an Infant might, but crept upon her four Paws as if she were verily a Bat upon the ridge-Pole of a Roof, and her black Cloak folded and dragged beside her like the membranous Wings I knew lay underneath it. As she
approached Viviane, I saw her Mouth fall open and her Lips draw back in a fearful Gesture of Appeasement, and I perceived her Teeth as needle sharp and multitudinous as they had been in her Babyhood. She eats Insects, I thought.

An obscene Horrour ran thro’ me. Could I take her home? Verily, how could I do it? How could I return this rape-born Freak to Katherine, who without her—Nathaniel had been right—was not shamed, let alone ruined, but respectable and happy—and expect that she should mother it? The Bat was horrible, monstrous, an Hag in Infant Shape, a Grotesque, a Parody of Maidenhood; of Humankind itself.

Viviane stared hard at the Bat. A Mask of violet Fury spread itself slow and thick over her beautifull Countenance. Her black Eyes glittered like Star-spun Jet. “Ungrateful Brat,” she said. “Three Times now you have tried to leave me. You will not try again.” She raised her Hand.

And it seemed that it was not the little Bat who cowered shivering before her on the Blood-smeared Green, but my Katherine; Leonora weeping herself into a Tree. Brat and Bat, I thought, separated by an R.

A yellow Anger ignited in my Gut, and my Thoughts began to swirl and ream like Smoake.

How dare he! Ravenscroft, Raw Head, whoever he be! How dare he! I care not if he is my dearest Friend! What he hath done—what he doth now—is beyond Contempt. What Goblins have I left to slay, what Monsters? I prised my left Knee from the Earth, forced the Sole of my Foot to lie flat where it had lately been. My Leg trembled.

You were wrong, Nat. I thought. You were more than wrong, when you said that you knew not what would have happened had
I been with you upon Christmas Eve; you were wicked—for Monster that I am, I would not have harmed a Maiden of her Yeares, and tender Virtue. Had I been with you, Katherine would have been safe, and Bat, my little Bat, would not ever have come to be. But I was not, and she is Katherine’s Child, Katherine’s; and that makes her mine. If Bat be Monster, I am Monster too, and if I make a poor Father, better be that than a Father whose only Claim is Force. You feel nothing for Bat. You traded your Heart to Viviane for a Drum, and now the only Beat you hear is heartless Musick. You did not take Bat away from Katherine out of Duty, or even Kinship, tho’ you would pretend it so, for you did not take Rebecca Clifton’s Child. No, you took her because Viviane, your Faerie Queen, wanted her, like a Toy; and Viviane hath no Intent to let her go. But she hath no Power to prevent it. The Thief owns not his stolen Bounty. Goblin Knight and Faerie Queen both, be damned.