A Rip in the Veil (41 page)

“I’m going for a walk,” she said. “Want to come?”

Matthew shook his head. “I must get this done today.”

“Oh.” After a few minutes she shrugged and got to her feet. “See you at supper.”

He didn’t reply, but raised his axe in a little wave.

Alex took her time. It was a beautiful day, a breather in a stretch of weeks of hard work. This farming thing was quite the workout, she reflected, and July had been an endless succession of long, gruelling days, with August so far not being that much better. She frowned; at least the present busy schedule was keeping Matthew at home, not in Cumnock to argue the merits of the Commonwealth versus the king.

It worried her, this open stand against the king and for the Republic. Not only in words, but also in clothing Matthew was stating his opinions, favouring browns and greys with tidy but simple collars and narrow breeches. As the whole country shifted itself towards receiving its potential king back with open arms and garish clothing, Matthew Graham went the other way, distancing himself from gaudiness and frills. Not that Alex minded, still finding the spectacle of men sporting huge sashes round their waists and massive amounts of lace at neck and wrists somewhat effeminate. But now, with Parliament in shambles, he should be more circumspect in expressing his viewpoints – maybe cultivate the low profile she’d expected him to keep given his experiences in jail. Instead, he seemed to find an almost perverse pleasure in voicing his thoughts out loud.

“It’s already too late,” Alex had said some days ago. “The Commonwealth is dead, and in the wings stands Charles Stuart, waiting to be king.”

“All the more reason for someone to speak up, so that all won’t be forgotten, so that this new king keeps in mind that he rules not alone, but with Parliament.”

Alex hadn’t replied. She had very vague ideas as to what would happen, but suspected that Parliament’s say in things would be severely diminished.

All of this was on her mind as she made her way down the steep slope that led from the hilltop to the mill. She stopped in a small clearing to catch her breath, spent a few agreeable minutes sitting on a stone, her face raised to the sun.

She was in a mellow mood when she got to her feet, a state of mind that changed drastically when she turned to find herself eye-to-eye with her brother-in-law. Alex flew backwards, her hands spread across her front. Her breath rasped its way up and down her throat as she studied him, remembering far too vividly the night not quite a year ago when he killed her other child.

“And so we meet again.” Luke cut a dashing figure in deep blue and a sash the colour of his fiery hair, complemented by high heeled boots. His eyes stuck on her belly, and for an instant Alex thought she could see shame in his eyes. For an instant, mind you, and then his face hardened. He took a couple of steps in her direction and she emitted a yelping sound. A swift movement and he had her by the arm, pulling her towards him when all she wanted was to run, screaming for help. She swallowed, trying to lubricate her throat. Stiff fingers in his eyes, knee him in the balls, fall to your right and use his body weight to flip him over. She tensed in preparation, but he felt that, twisting her arm up behind her back.

“Let go of me!” It came out as a shriek, loud and high. “Get out of here before Matthew finds you.” Much better; more controlled, less scared witless.

He released her and stood back. His eyes glinted a pale, celadon green, lingering on her stomach.

“That child threatens my son’s inheritance.”

“You don’t have a son. Matthew has a son that you’ve stolen off him, but you don’t have one. Incapable of siring your own, hey?” She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth and backed away. She tripped, fell to land on her bottom, but was up on her knees and crawling as fast as she could, when his hand came down on her shoulder and wrenched her round to face him.

“Slut! You’ll pay for that.” That was when Matthew barged into him from behind.

*

“Take your hands off my wife!” This time he was going to destroy this serpent of a man, slice him down in pieces. Luke made choking noises, his fingers tearing at the strangling hold around his neck. Matthew pulled his dagger, and Luke’s eyes bulged when the blade sliced through his breeches, baring his privates to the August air. Oh, aye; he didn’t much like it, did he, when it was him being attacked. Misbegotten cur; today he would pay. Luke screeched, kicked and flailed – all to no avail.

Matthew knocked him to the ground, sat on him and grabbed Luke’s scrotum in a brutal grip, pressing the testicles until the skin looked about to burst. Luke convulsed under him, he was begging, crying, his nails digging into Matthew’s back, but Matthew was in no mood to listen.

“Matthew!” Alex’s voice barely penetrated the rage that thudded through Matthew’s brain. He drew the blade of the knife over the bared skin. “No, Matthew, you can’t!” A thin line of blood welled forth and Luke shrieked, a wordless plea for help.

“Aye I can,” Matthew said, and Alex threw herself forward.

“No! Please don’t!”

Matthew shook her off and directed himself to his brother. “I warned you, I let you off last time we met, no? But this time…”He heaved his incoherent, babbling brother to stand. “It seems my wife wishes you to keep your balls, however useless they may be. I will, however, have my blood.” And with that he sliced off Luke’s nose and pushed him away.

“Oh, God!” Alex gasped.

Luke keened, squirming like a hooked worm.

“Stand up,” Matthew said roughly. “Stand up or I’ll do you some more harm.”

Luke staggered upright, one hand to his bleeding face, the other attempting to hold his breeches together.

“Get off my land, and if I ever catch you on it again I’ll kill you.” Matthew shoved Luke in the direction of the woods. “Go.”

“My nose,” Luke moaned through tears and blood.

“Go!” Matthew screamed at him, and Luke stumbled away.

“He’ll never forgive you,” Alex stammered, staring at Matthew’s bloodied hands.

“I can live with that. I haven’t forgiven him either.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’ll try.” The blinding fury was receding, and his hand holding the knife was trembling. He tightened his grip on the handle and bent down to wipe the blade clean. “I can’t kill him, he’s my brother.”

Alex began to laugh, a horrid sound that made him want to clap his hands over his ears. She sank down to the ground and the laughter became tears.

“Don’t expect him to show you any mercy,” Alex said. “He’ll move heaven and earth to destroy you for what you just did to him.”

“I know.” Without another word he walked off.

*

It took time for Matthew to regain some semblance of control. He spliced and spliced, he worked until his arm shook, and only when the light was gone did he stop for the day. He’d heard Alex come down the hill behind him, had sensed her standing to the side to watch him drive his axe with frenzy into the hazel poles, but he’d pretended he hadn’t, not quite sure what to say to her.

She was right; this Luke would never forgive, and while one part of him was elated at having finally made his brother pay, another part shivered with shame at what he’d done. Not that Luke didn’t deserve it, bastard that he was, but in one single slicing motion Matthew had forever severed whatever blood-ties remained between them. He sighed, hefted his axe over his shoulder, and went in search of his wife.

He found her in the stables, sitting in the straw with her lap full of mewling kittens. When she raised her face to his, he saw that she’d been crying.

“Ah, lass, there’s no need to cry, aye? He won’t harm us, I won’t let him.”

That only made her weep all the more, long hiccupping sobs as he shushed and repeated that he’d keep them safe – somehow. She shook her head.

“It’s not that.” She wiped at her nose with her sleeve. “Well, it’s that too, but not only.”

“Then why?” He lifted her to sit on his knees.

She rubbed her face against the bristle of his cheeks and sighed.

“I was thinking of Isaac. I never wanted him, I resented this stranger that had been foisted upon me by a man that I hated and feared.” She took hold of Matthew’s hand and placed it on her belly. “Today our child moved inside of me and I could feel it, and I was so happy to know it was there, alive and safe.” She exhaled softly. “I never noticed when Isaac became a real person inside of me. I didn’t love him, not then. Do you think he knew?”

Matthew kissed her ear. He didn’t know what to say.

Chapter 34

“You look like a pear.” Simon grinned down at Alex from his horse. “A giant pear.”

“You have a death wish, Mr Melville,” Alex said, miming a slashed throat.

“I was referring to the colour of your gown, not the shape of your body.” He dismounted and hastened over to help Joan, before turning to greet Matthew. “Minister Crombie was asking for you, he wondered when you’d be in Cumnock next. I told him it would be a few weeks yet.”

Matthew nodded. He stretched and surveyed his lands; wherever he turned he saw work calling to him. There was threshing to do, roofs to be mended, fields to be tilled, and… He sighed, kneading at his left buttock. No rest, not for many weeks yet.

Alex had been working as hard as he had lately, returning inside with grubby hands and reddened cheeks after yet another day in the kitchen garden. He snuck a look at his wife, most definitely pear-like in her soft green. Now in her sixth month of pregnancy, she was blooming, with a constant appetite not only for food but for him. He intensified his gaze, was gratified to see her ears turn pink.

“Captain Leslie has been recalled to ride with General Monck,” Simon said over kale and pork. “Word is that the general is thinking of riding south, and Minister Crombie advices you to be careful. Royalist sentiments are running high, and then there’s this whole matter with Luke.”

Matthew shifted on his chair, shared a quick look with Alex. Dear brother Luke worried him, much more than he cared to admit. He should have killed him, he thought darkly, not sliced off a wee piece of his nose.

“He’s telling anyone who’ll listen just how he will make you pay,” Simon went on, “and I fear it’s not an empty threat.”

Matthew frowned, tilted his head in the direction of Alex. Simon flushed. He cleared his throat and turned the discussion to politics, sharing what little news he had of what was happening in Edinburgh and London.

“I heard General Monck has been approached by messengers from Charles Stuart.” Matthew said. Despite having once been imprisoned for his support of the royalist cause, General Monck had proven a capable governor of Scotland, a firm adherent to the principles of the Commonwealth. If he was listening to the blandishments of the would be king, then it was just a matter of time. Well, he knew it was, but he still hoped Alex was wrong.

“Sent them packing was what I heard,” Simon sat back and regarded Matthew. “No one wants war. And unless a strong leader for the Commonwealth materialises soon…”

“It could be the general.”

“I don’t think so; if he hankered for such power he would already have taken it. No; I fear we’ll shortly see the Commonwealth revert to a Kingdom.”

“Unfortunately,” Matthew muttered. “Will Charles have learnt his lesson, do you think? To not meddle with men’s faith nor force a common church upon us all?”

Simon shrugged, looked away.

A little frisson of disquiet fluttered up Matthew’s spine; this future king was no friend of Presbytery – and in particular not after those long months he’d spent as a virtual prisoner of the Covenanters, king of Scotland in name only – which did not bode well for men such as Matthew.

“I think he’ll have learnt the lesson of subterfuge,” Simon said. “Steel inside a velvet glove, and woe to those on whom Charles Stuart decides to wreak his vengeance. All those that voted in favour of executing the king that was, must be passing right restless nights.”

Matthew shifted the conversation to other matters.

*

“I met Margaret the other day,” Joan said, setting her sewing aside. They were alone in the parlour, Simon and Matthew having decided the evening was better spent reviewing Matthew’s accounts and in general setting his affairs in order. Every now and then, the sound of laughter would emanate from the little study, making Alex suspect that more attention was spent on the whisky than on the matters at hand.

“Oh.” Alex wasn’t that interested. Margaret had made a huge scene about Luke’s nose – understandably –but been curtly reminded by Matthew that she’d violated the conditions of her lease by allowing Luke to stay. The next day she’d been gone, hopefully forever.

“And Luke.” Joan shook her head. “It was horrible.”

“I know, he has the same effect on me,” Alex muttered.

“His nose, Alex; it’s gone!”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“How could Matthew do such? To so disfigure someone, mark him like a common criminal.”

Alex frowned. “There’s disfigurement and disfigurement; I hope you don’t consider Luke an innocent victim.”

“No, of course not, but still…” Joan sighed. “He was such a bonny wee lad.”

Alex chose not to comment. She stuck her knitting needles through the ball of yarn and left the room.

*

“It’s just…she was very judgemental, you know?” Alex said next morning. Matthew grunted; if Joan had anything to say about Luke, she should come to him, not to Alex. As it was, the little altercation had poisoned the rest of the evening, with Alex retiring to bed much sooner than she would normally do. He sniffed at his stockings and wrinkled his nose; too much wear, he needed a clean pair. He threw the lid of the mule chest open, all but disappearing into it.

“What are you looking for?” Alex asked.

“My…” He fell silent, hands closing on a burlap wrapped object.

“Your what?”

He didn’t reply, instead he straightened up and turned to face her, holding the swaddled square in his hands.

“I thought you burnt it.”

“So did I. Well, no, I didn’t think I burnt it, but I totally forgot.” She blushed a bit under his gaze. “Maybe I didn’t forget to begin with,” she admitted at his continued silence. “But then I did. What with everything else happening in my life, I haven’t even thought about it.”