Noctivagant (Chapter 4)

4 - Escape

The Carpenter was hunkered down behind a dry stone wall, close to the point where the Ford stream flowed into the wide estuary, before the headman and his young companion had ambled down the southern slope of Castle Hill, making for the tall man's home, which The Carpenter could see from his vantage point. The man decided to move closer to Old Pool, carefully making his way along the foreshore, concealed from the view of anyone on the landward side by the low wall, although he would have been clearly visible to anyone who might have been out on the river, or indeed on the eastern side of the valley, finding another hiding place behind the outermost storehouse at the edge of the headman's farmyard. As the man and boy came closer, The Carpenter could hear their voices on the other side of the wall.

"Victor, you can share our evening meal, but then I'll need to take you back to your home - I made that promise to your father, you know that."

"I don't want to go home, Uncle, I'm frightened. They all hate me!"

The headman continued as patiently, reassuringly as he could. "Victor, I'll be there for you in the morning, but that's the most I can do. We're all bound by the law, and by the honour of the sept. Come along, let's not think of that for now, I'm sure your aunt will have something nice for you to eat in the kitchen."

The snatches of conversation The Carpenter had overheard had placed another piece in his jigsaw - now that he knew Victor was the headman's nephew, and already knowing his father's name was Gareth, who was a fisherman, he realised he knew where the boy lived, after his previous visit to the area, working for the headman. When the man and boy had gone out of sight, he clambered over the foreshore wall, crossed the lane, and climbed the low hill opposite, keeping watch all the while for those who might be making their way home as evening drew on. His plan was now close to completion.

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The light was already beginning to fade fast from the sky as James and Victor walked slowly down Ferry Lane towards the boy's home. The boy's head was down, and he was biting his lip nervously at the prospect of what awaited him at what had been, until yesterday, a caring home, but which now seemed more like a baleful dungeon. The tall man, well aware of his nephew's apprehension, placed a gentle hand on the youngster's shoulder.

"No harm will come to you tonight, Victor, your father knows he must present you to the....appraisers tomorrow. I know it will be difficult, but try to sleep as well as you can, so that you can answer the questions you will be asked as carefully and truthfully as you know you must."

Victor looked up at the man, but could find no words to answer, so he simply nodded, tears close behind his eyes, as they reached the door of the fisherman's cottage.

****

The Carpenter sat quietly on what the Ford sept people knew as Passage Hill, concealed by the shadows of a clump of trees, and by the gathering gloom of the evening. He could clearly see the lane from Old Pool, and, as he'd expected, the headman and his small charge came into view, heading for the cottage The Carpenter remembered from his time in the area in the past. The pair walked slowly, the man's hand reassuringly on the boy's shoulder, the boy looking up at the tall man, looking for his protection. The Carpenter knew the headman was a good, upstanding person, within the limitations that his position, and, indeed, his whole society allowed. After a few minutes, the man retraced his steps along the lane, alone. Now that The Carpenter had the final confirmation he needed of where Victor would be after nightfall, he allowed himself to rest. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, his back against a tree trunk.

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The man awoke with a start, feeling the sickly disorientation of coming out of sleep in an unfamiliar place for a few seconds, until his sensitive eyes began to adapt to the near darkness - there was just a sliver of a crescent moon , alternately appearing and disappearing as broken cloud scudded across the black sky, driven by the brisk southwesterly breeze coming onshore from the ocean. At least the rain has stayed away so far, the man thought, not that the weather would be allowed to disrupt his plan, but any assistance the elements could give him would be gratefully accepted. He looked down from his hillside vantage point onto the cottages below, silhouettes against the estuary behind, rehearsing the route he would take, the route he had planned before the daylight finally faded, in his mind's eye.

****

In the darkness of the fisherman's cottage, all was silent. With one exception. A child crying quietly, just above the level of audibility, but distinguishable. A child who had been bound hand and foot with the strong ropes of his father's occupation, a child left naked with the exception of his blankets. The rope chafed his sensitive skin at wrist and ankle, adding physical discomfort to the mental turmoil that threatened to overwhelm him. His anguish went unheeded, his family's conscience apparently untroubled, as they slept soundly. If any proof of his rejection, his ostracisation was necessary, his solitary tears provided that proof. He was 'the other', the hated denizen of the night, already condemned by those who should have nurtured him, He looked around the large room, able to see, but seeing nothing but fear and despair. Finally, exhausted by misery, he fell into a fitful sleep.

****

The man carefully, quietly, like a nocturnal hunter, made his way down the hill to the rear of the fisherman's cottage. It had been fully dark for several hours, and the man knew with near certainty that all the occupants of the cottage would be sleeping, their only escape from the terrors of the night that their upbringing had convinced them were all around. And, he thought, he himself was the greatest manifestation of all those terrors, the night stalker, the otherworldly wraith that haunted their troubled dreams.

As he had expected, The Carpenter found the rear door of the cottage bolted and barred from within. He looked around for an alternative means of entry, his attention lighting upon a window shutter at just above head height which appeared to be slightly ajar. Finding a rough wooden ladder against the wall of the yard, he set it up against the side of the house, scaling the first couple of rungs to test his weight on the makeshift artefact. It creaked slightly, but held. He climbed up to the window, and carefully inched the shutter further open. Even to his dark-adapted eyes, the deeper gloom inside the cottage was difficult to penetrate. After a few moments, he could vaguely make out the contents of the large room - a curtained area to his left, doubtless where the fisherman and his wife were sleeping, a double pallet shared by two figures, the daughters of the family, on the opposite side of the room, close to the front door, while to his right, a smaller bed, whose small occupant had kicked his blanket largely aside, revealing the pale lustre of bare skin, against which the man could see darker bands contrasting at wrist and ankle. He couldn't understand what he was seeing at first, but then, suddenly, he realised what the bands signified, and his mind was filled with fury - the vermin, they've tied him up! Their own son, this helpless little boy, trussed up like some kind of sacrificial victim. He took several deep breaths, fighting to regain his composure, lest he do something rash which could jeopardise his mission. The floor area immediately below the window appeared to be clear, but he knew it was going to be awkward to manoeuvre through the relatively small opening, and still be able to lower himself quietly to the floor within. He climbed from the top of the ladder onto the narrow windowsill, in a kneeling position, then, as carefully as he could manage given the charged situation, swung his legs around while gripping the sill tightly, managing to move to a position, still kneeling, but with his back to the interior of the cottage, on the stone ledge. The moment to launch himself into the unknown had come, he thought - he held onto the sill with his strong hands, and allowed his feet and legs to slide down the interior wall, until he was hanging by his arms, just inches above the ground. He let loose his grip, dropped down - then all hell seemed to break loose. There was a loud yowl, and a frantic scuffling under his foot - he'd landed on the tail of a house cat! Almost in panic, he thrust himself into the darkest pool of shadow he could see, within the alcove housing the frame of the yard door. He could hear stirrings from behind the curtain, an oath emerging from within.

"Damned cat, what are you doing!" A gruff voice, husky with disturbed sleep. The Carpenter held his breath for what seemed like hours, hoping that the owner of the voice wouldn't try to investigate the provenance of the noises in the room. He heard whisperings from the double bed, then a woman's voice.

"Settle down, you girls, it's only the cat hunting again." More rustling of the straw mattress, then silence fell once again. The man peered cautiously out from his hiding place, focusing his attention on the single bed and the boy upon it. He could see the whites of wide open eyes, eyes the man knew would be the only ones within the building that could see him, as soon as he moved from cover. His quarry was, three, maybe four paces away - dare he cross that short expanse of floor, in the hope he could reach and quiet the boy before the youngster's instincts made him call out? The boy began to cry again, small, breathy sobs which tore at The Carpenter's heart, causing his own emotions to well up inside - how could they treat this child so cruelly? The boy, though hampered by his bonds, turned his face to his pillow to muffle his growing distress. The man in the shadows saw his opportunity, quickly making his way to where the boy lay, and dropped to his knees behind him. The boy heard rustling beside him, and turned to see what had caused it. He sucked in a gasping breath, but before he could utter a sound, the man had gently cupped his hand across the boy's mouth, while leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"Hush, Victor, don't say a word. Don't be frightened, I've been sent to help you. I'm one of your kind."

Despite his fear and confusion, the boy instinctively managed to stay silent, somehow realising that what the man said was the truth, so the man withdrew his hand.

"Who....?" the boy began to whisper.

"Ssshhh, I'll explain everything once we've got you away. Do you know where your clothes are?"

The boy nodded and pointed towards the curtain around his parents' bed. "My mother has them," he breathed.

The Carpenter paused to consider what to do next. The first priority, he decided, was to release Victor from his fetters. He drew a long bladed knife from a leather sheath at his belt.

"Keep very still, Victor. I'm going to cut the ropes off of you, but this knife is really sharp, and I don't want to accidentally hurt you. Hold your hands out in front of you, please."

With exquisite care, the man lifted the rope as far away from the skin of the boy's wrist as its tightness allowed, then slid the blade beneath, and, keeping the sharp side uppermost, cut upwards through the thick twine. The parted halves dropped onto the boy's chest with a thud, causing the youngster to exhale sharply. The process was repeated with the rope hobbling Victor's ankles, the boy instinctively stretching his aching limbs as his restraints fell away.

"Victor, can you see clearly?" the man asked. The boy nodded. "Can you peep round your parents' curtain, and tell me if you can see those clothes?" The boy assented again, crept towards the cloth barrier then cautiously eased it an eye's width open. He peered into the sleeping space, then returned to the man's side.

"They're by my mother's side of the bed, with my boots on top. Shall I try and get them?"

"Wait a minute - let's unlock the back door first, we'll be leaving that way."

The Carpenter carefully drew the bolts at the top and bottom of the door, and, as warily as he'd dealt with the ropes that had restrained the boy, lifted the horizontal wooden bar which constituted the final obstacle to their egress and laid it silently on the floor.

"Victor, quietly as you can, get your clothes and boots, then follow me outside. You can dress as soon as we get to a safe place. Just wrap the blanket around you in the meantime."

The boy nodded, and noiselessly disappeared behind the curtain, reappearing moments later carrying a small bundle.

"Come on, let's go before they wake up. Just slip your boots on unlaced, we don't want you hurting your feet."

The youngster complied, as The Carpenter eased the back door open, allowing a draught of cool night air to enter the cottage, fresh and bracing in contrast to the stuffy interior, smelling of salt water and dewy vegetation. The man took the boy's hand and led him gently, silently, from one life to another.

****

The clouds had cleared from the inky sky, and the breeze had dropped away almost to nothing, but a thin mist had risen from the estuary to take their place, smearing the view of the now setting moon, transforming its bright arc into a chalky smudge. The man and the boy sat in the same copse where The Carpenter had rested earlier, looking down onto the little settlement which had, until now, constituted Victor's whole life, and which had changed so much for him in the past two days.

"I don't understand. Why does everyone hate me all of a sudden?"

"I know that not everyone hates you. I don't, the person who sent me to help you doesn't. There are many who will be happy to see you safe."

"My family hate me."

"Your family are afraid, Victor, and when people are afraid, they do things they wouldn't normally do. Hurtful things, cruel things. And there are those who want the people to be afraid, for their own purposes, to make the people do cruel things. The ones who are coming to your house today, they are the representatives of those who want the people afraid."

"Why? Why do they want the people to be afraid. It's horrible to be afraid, like I have been since yesterday."

"Because they want to make the people do as they're told, to control them. Because then they can have the things that make for a better life, keep them all for themselves, while people like your family, your uncle's family have little or nothing, even though they work hard all their lives. You'll learn about all these things, Victor, and, if you choose to, you could help to try and make the world a fairer, happier place, where people won't have to be afraid. That's what we want to happen, me and those like me - and like you."

The boy looked back at his home, uncertainly. "What will they do to me if they catch me?"

"We aren't going to let them catch you, Victor. You're safe now."

"But, if they did. What would they do?" The Carpenter could hear the emotion in the boy's voice. He was young, so young, the man thought, and if he told Victor what he was being saved from, it would be a real loss of innocence for the boy. They looked at each other in the low light, the boy pleading with his eyes, the man struggling with his own feelings of injustice, of his own discovery of the shadowy clique that ruled these wretched remnants of humanity, his own horror at knowing what his fate would have been, when he was little older than Victor was now. He drew a shuddering breath as that horror chilled his soul once more. The boy, for all his tender years, knew that the man was fighting monsters in his mind, as Victor had battled the cave demon in his boyish fantasy. He spoke again.

"Please, tell me. I want to know. I know I have to leave, but I want to know why."

Still the man hesitated, not knowing until the words were almost formed whether he would tell the boy the truth.

"Victor....your difference from the others, my difference from the others, the fact that we can see in the dark, when the others can't....there is only one punishment. To be condemned to permanent darkness. They would have taken your eyes, Victor. They would have blinded you."

The boy's face, already pale in the fading moonlight, became like a ghastly alabaster death mask, all colour drained away. His mouth fell open in a silent scream of terror, before he fainted into The Carpenter's strong arms.

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To be continued.

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Love & best wishes to all

Sammy B