The Heart of Darkness Page 2

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ said Becky. ‘You’re perfectly lovely, what with your beautiful mass of flaming red hair and emerald green eyes. As for being short, I think it gives you a sort of sweet elfin charm. You look like a fairy child, you do. No man in his right mind would think otherwise, of that I’m sure.’

  ‘I’d marry you any day,’ came a little voice from behind Rowena.

  ‘How gallant of you, young sir,’ she replied with a laugh, turning to meet the large round eyes of Becky’s five-year-old son, who looked gravely down on her from the open cottage window.

  * * * *

  By the next day, Lord Cunningham had indeed forgotten about his wife’s instructions to ‘deal to that insolent girl, because poor dear Sabina is pained beyond words by her cruelty’. Lady Cunningham had gone on to say, as she often did, that ‘this is what comes of marrying beneath one’s self. I told my sister at the time, again and again, as did all the family: ‘it is just a silly, childish infatuation. You must not marry him. Think of the children you might have. They will not be of good breeding, they will turn out bad sister, mark my words!’ But being a stubborn, wilful girl with no pity for her unfortunate relatives, who would have to live with the shame of such a connection, she completely ignores the pleas of her family, including those of her own mother, and just goes and marries the man regardless. She always did have a wildness about her, it has to be said; right from a young age, just like her daughter’.

  The late summer’s day had been hot and still. Lulled into drowsiness by the placid heat, Rowena had left her fears of retribution behind at noon and spent the rest of the day watching the thunder clouds building over the western hills. It was now late afternoon and the dark clouds towered menacingly in the sky like giant fortresses in the air. Lightning flashed from them and the boom of thunder rolled across the valley. All of nature was still and silent, as if waiting in expectation for the rain.

  As the thunderstorm came directly overhead, the first heavy drops of rain began to fall, making the leaves of the trees dance frantically up and down as the droplets thudded onto them.

  ‘Rowena, shut the window at once!’

  The young woman started at the sound of Lady Cunningham’s shrill voice, then dutifully reached out to close the window. ‘Yes, your ladyship.’

  Lady Cunningham swept up to the window seat her niece sat on and started fussing with the curtains. ‘What are you thinking of? Standing there at the open window letting all the rain pour into my solar!’

  ‘Sorry, my lady.’

  ‘I really despair at you, going around with your head in a daze all the time.’

  From her vantage point at the second-storey window, Rowena saw Lord Cunningham coming riding up the road in great haste. He did not usually return home from his business in Hartfield until much later in the day. But seeing the thunderclouds building, he had no doubt decided it would be prudent to return home earlier than usual in order to avoid a soaking—although he had left it a little late.

  Lord Cunningham roughly hauled his horse to a skidding stop in front of the manor’s main door. ‘Come here, you lazy scoundrel!’ he bellowed, looking around for the servant boy who usually held his horse while he dismounted.

  No one came. The rain began to come on more heavily. Lord Cunningham’s long, black brocade houppelande robe was rapidly becoming saturated with water.

  ‘When I get my hands on you, boy, I’ll give you a thrashing you’ll never forget!’ he screamed furiously, dismounting from his horse and hurrying inside, leaving the riderless horse standing miserably in the downpour, hindquarters swung into the storm and tail clamped tightly down.

  Rowena chuckled quietly to herself. The stable boy had probably gathered his things and left secretly in the night. He would not be the first to have done so and very likely would not be the last. The Cunninghams worked their servants hard, paid them a pittance and showed little mercy.

  A short while later, Lord Cunningham made a rare entrance into the upstairs solar where his wife and daughter were seated. He had changed out of his wet robe and into a dry but otherwise very similar robe. He had also put on a more elaborate, less practical cap with a long length of cloth trailing off it, which he wore draped about his shoulders. The cap may have been fancier, but it served its main purpose just the same, which was to hide its wearer’s lack of hair. Underneath it, the top half of Lord Cunningham’s head was as smooth and hairless as an egg. Despite still being on the right side of fifty, the years had not been kind to his body.

  As soon as she noticed the solar’s new occupant, Lady Sabina eagerly arose from her chair. ‘Father, do look at my new gown!’

  The latest purchase from Tailor Hamo’s High-Fashion Damsel’s Outfitters (as Rowena always called it) on Hartfield Market Square was a long-sleeved, high-waisted gold silk affair with a plunging neckline, a long train at the back and a full skirt so long Sabina had to lift it with one hand in order to walk.

  Rowena drew herself deeper into the alcove of the window seat. She hated Sabina’s constant preening, the way she insisted on showing off every new piece of finery.

  Lady Sabina twirled around in the middle of the room so everyone could get a good look. ‘Mother says that I look like a princess in it!’

  Rowena used to always stop and salivate over the fabulous gowns on display in the front of the tailor’s shop every time she passed, and daydream about owning such a marvel. But after accompanying her cousin for a fitting, she had gone off the idea. The way in which the skinny tailor, with his greasy, slicked-back hair, fawned over, flattered and inflated the vanity of his customers gave her the creeps. ‘My lady, you look a marvel, a wonder! Queen Guinevere herself would not look better in this Persian silk! May I dare to suggest a little more mink fur? Oh, yes, oh my dearest lady, my poor, humble eyes can hardly bear to look upon such beauty!’ he would cry ecstatically, almost falling at his customer’s feet in worship.

  Any notions Rowena might have had of scaling such giddy heights of fashion were well out of reach anyway. Her wealthy relatives gave her no financial assistance other than not charging her for food and giving her a small room at the top of the house, which required the climbing of three flights of stairs to reach. Rowena only had the money her mother had left her to live on, which was very little as they had been poor. She could only afford simple dresses, not the elaborate, richly embroidered gowns Lady Sabina wore.

  Though they didn’t seem very practical, Rowena consoled herself. If she were to wear a dress like that, its long hem would get wet and muddy in no time. Doubtless, it would be torn on brambles too.

  When he had finished dutifully admiring the dress, Lord Cunningham turned to his wife, who sat near the fireplace working on some sewing. ‘I was over at the sheriff’s castle earlier today. Sir Richard was telling me that his personal clerk, Thomas, has disappeared. When Sir Richard went around to Thomas’s lodgings, he found all his money and possessions were still there. No sign of the man, though. No one’s seen him for days. It’s as if he’s vanished into thin air. Anyway, Sir Richard was not best pleased. Fair fuming, the man was. Said his clerk was indispensable, can’t run the shire without one. But he’s yet to find a replacement. Hard to find someone suitable at short notice, I suppose.’

  ‘Indeed, my dear,’ responded Lady Cunningham uninterestedly, barely glancing up from her sewing.

  But Lady Sabina had been listening to the news with rapt attention. She tilted her head slyly to one side and put a long, slim finger to her blood-red lips.

  Rowena stiffened with anticipation. Lady Sabina always did that when a cunning and spiteful plan was brewing in her head.

  ‘Maybe Rowena could go over there and fill in as his clerk until a permanent replacement is found.’ Lady Sabina shot a venomous look at her cousin. ‘It would put all that learning she is so proud of to some use for once.’

  Rowena caught her breath in horror. She had not met Sir Richard ‘The Black Sheriff’ Hastings and had no desire to do so. The lo
cal peasants said that in the three years he had been there he had proved to be hot-tempered, impatient, cruel and generally best avoided if at all possible. Lady Sabina, on the other hand, was most definitely in lust with Hartfield’s sheriff. ‘Isn’t he simply the most marvellous beast you have ever set eyes on?’ Lady Sabina had gushed to her friend Anne, after meeting him last winter. ‘Indeed,’ Anne had giggled, ‘I certainly would not mind being ridden by him.’ It had made Rowena cringe, and all Sabina and Anne’s obscene giggling only served to make her add ‘loved by vain and shallow women’ to the list of things she held against Chaucy’s sheriff.

  Outside, the rain began to fall in torrents, spilling over the gutters and pouring down the windowpanes.

  ‘Hmmm, not such a bad idea…’ Lord Cunningham replied thoughtfully, before turning to his wife. ‘What think you, my dear?’

  ‘I think that is an excellent notion. It would give her something useful to do instead of wandering about the countryside all day like a wild animal,’ Lady Cunningham replied with a disapproving sniff.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be unseemly...for a maiden to be with a man unchaperoned?’ Rowena faltered from the window seat.

  Lady Sabina haughtily tossed her gauze veil over her shoulder with an expert flick of the head. ‘I am sure you need not fear on that account, Cousin. Sir Richard is a handsome man of good breeding who could have any lady he chooses. It is most unlikely that he would be interested in someone such as you.’

  Rowena forced her face into a mask of stony calmness. Lady Sabina’s cruel words might have stung like a slap in the face, but Rowena was determined that her cousin would not have the satisfaction of a hurt reaction.

  Unlike Rowena, Lady Sabina was considered a great beauty among the circles she moved in and drew captivated eyes to her whenever she entered a room. She had a willowy, stick-thin figure with hipbones as sharp as her tongue, and was ridiculously tall. Her skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow, her eyes large and ice-blue, and her sculpted face, with its high, high cheekbones, gave her an arresting, otherworldly appearance.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Lord Cunningham. ‘Rowena, you will go over to Eaglestone Castle tomorrow morning to start work. I will send a boy over right away to inform Sir Richard he can expect a new personal clerk.’

  The look Lady Sabina rested on her open-mouthed cousin could not have been more snake-like. ‘I am sure our sheriff will be absolutely delighted.’

  .2.

  The Darkness

  Comprehended it Not

  THE HOUSE was silent except for the Cunninghams’ servants, who were already beginning the day’s work by scrubbing floors and fetching wood for the fires.

  ‘Good morning, Mistress Pedley,’ Rowena called out to the cook, who had just come into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  The plump, pleasant-faced woman stifled a yawn. ‘Morning, Mistress Rowena. There are some choice berries in the larder, just picked yesterday. I put a few aside for you.’

  Rowena normally had her breakfast in the kitchen, much preferring to eat there than in the great hall with her relatives. But this morning she could not face the thought of eating anything. Her stomach, in sympathy with her state of mind, was feeling rather queasy. ‘That’s most thoughtful of you, but I think I shall have them when I get home later.’

  Mistress Pedley gave a disapproving shake of the head. ‘It doesn’t do to be setting out of a morning on an empty belly.’

  ‘Normally I would agree most heartily, but if I eat anything right now I feel sure I will be sick before I even get to Eaglestone Castle,’ Rowena replied, donning a long bright blue cloak to ward off the chilly morning air.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said the cook, ‘you are supposed to be going over to Eaglestone Castle to assist that sheriff—what’s his name?’

  ‘Sir Richard Hastings.’

  ‘Aye, that’s the one. Last night the serving maid was saying she’d heard Lady Sabina talking ’bout it.’

  Rowena’s small, plump hands froze halfway through their task of fastening the cloak’s pin. ‘Did Lady Sabina merely mention that I was going over to help out, or was there more?’

  ‘Hildred said her ladyship was laughing ’bout how long you would last. Apparently, Lady Sabina reckoned you’d be lucky to last more than a day before the sheriff gave you the sack, or you decided to give yourself the sack.’

  ‘And why was that?’

  ‘Emmm…Hildred said she heard her Ladyship sayin’ that Sir What’s-It did not suffer fools gladly.’

  The small hands pierced the brooch through the thick cloth with a sudden stab, and clicked it shut. ‘Did she indeed? Well, you can tell Hildred that I shall be over at Eaglestone Castle every day until the sheriff finds a permanent clerk.’ And with that, she picked up the bag containing her writing materials and walked out the door.

  Eaglestone Castle was a brisk half-hour walk from Stoatley. The small path skirted the edge of several fields before going into the trees at the edge of the woods and emerging near the castle.

  Rowena was anxious not to get off to a bad start with Sir Richard, so although she was familiar with the way to Eaglestone, she had set off extra early to make sure she was not late.

  She was making good time. The first golden rays of sunlight were only just reaching the tops of the ancient oak, beech and elm trees that surrounded the manor house. The fresh morning air was damp and sweet-smelling after the previous day’s rain, and birds made sweet melody all around.

  Their songs lifted her spirits and helped to take her mind off Eaglestone Castle and its dreaded inhabitant. But before long, Rowena could see the tall towers of the castle soaring high above the treetops, their pale grey stones bathed in the golden morning light.

  When she emerged out into the meadow where the castle stood, she stopped to gaze up at it in awe. Although it did not occupy a lot of ground, Eaglestone Castle was built to impress. It was the perfect dream castle, the kind the imagination immediately populates with beautiful princesses, enchanted maidens, giants, sorceresses—and evil knights. The castle’s three lacily decorated towers, which would have looked more at home on a cathedral than a castle, soared up towards heaven’s blue vault with dizzying ambition. Atop the gatehouse flew a large white flag with a heraldic crest depicting a gold-armoured Saint George mounted on a white horse slaying a black, fire-breathing dragon. To complete the picture, each of the three towers was topped with a gaily fluttering flag. There was a white, a black and a red one.

  Having feasted her eyes on the marvellous sight, Rowena moved off towards the gateway again. The path ran straight up to the moat that encircled the base of the castle walls and then followed it round to the gateway. Passing it, she wrinkled her nose at the fetid smell rising from the muddy, stagnant water pooled at the bottom of the almost dry moat. It clearly had seen better days.

  Rowena crossed the lowered drawbridge that spanned the moat with great trepidation, passed through Eaglestone’s giant arched gateway and emerged into a cobbled courtyard.

  There was much bustle and noise in the courtyard. Armed men walked purposefully about or stood in groups talking loudly, while others sat polishing swords and armour. The newcomer felt very small and intimidated amongst all this activity and stood wavering, unsure of what to do next.

  ‘Look out!’ someone cried in warning.

  Rowena suddenly realized the sound of galloping hooves was rapidly approaching from behind. She only just managed to leap aside in time to avoid being run down by three horsemen galloping in at full speed through the gates.

  Once Rowena had calmed her frazzled nerves and regained a little composure, she continued across the yard, this time being careful to keep close to the walls. She did not know where the sheriff was to be found, and there were many doors leading inside.

  The sensible thing to do would be to ask one of the soldiers. But she felt rather shy so hesitated, scanning the crowd for someone less intimidating. Her eyes quickly alighted on a pleasant-looking yo
uth sitting against one of the walls polishing a chainmail coat. He looked a safe wager.

  The maiden carefully scanned the courtyard for horsemen, and finding none, cautiously made her way over. ‘Excuse me, young sire. I’m looking for the sheriff; do you know where I might find him?’

  Two sharp blue eyes looked up at her. ‘Yes, that I do, madam. Carry on across to those steps there.’ He pointed at a large flight of stone steps across the courtyard from the gate. ‘Go up them and through the big door at the top. There you will find a second flight of stairs. Sir Richard’s chambers are at the top.’

  The boy’s directions were perfect, and Rowena was soon mounting the second flight of spiral stairs that led up what was clearly one of the tall towers. She walked slowly, wishing to delay the dreaded moment when she came face-to-face with Chaucy’s most notorious man for as long as possible.

  But as she ascended, her curiosity was roused by the sound of voices coming from the top of the stairs. The maiden quickened her pace until she could make out two men talking, then stopped to listen.

  One was shouting angrily, ‘You let him get away! We go to all this bloody trouble ferreting out that low-life scum and he gets away because you only had one man covering the back door when you went in!’

  ‘I’m real sorry ’bout that, Sir Richard,’ replied the other man calmly, ‘but with all due respect, sir, I was a little shorthanded, what with you needing all those men to investigate the missing maidens.’

  ‘This is my fault now, is it? I can’t be everywhere at once!’

  There was a loud bang, which sounded like a chair being kicked over.