Ravens Deep (one) (6 page)

             
A moment later two smaller deer appeared and followed the same path as the first one.  I must have witnessed a trick of the shadows and light, causing the dark shapes to shift and take on different forms.  Or perhaps in light of the recent episode I was allowing normal things to manifest into something more sinister. I pushed all dubious thoughts away, and thought just how delightful this situation was, I never saw deer in the city.

             
I must have sat for an hour or more, witnessing the magic of the mists rising over the moors, until finally the sun broke through, replacing the shadowy mystery of the landscape with a bright new morning. Slowly the air came to life around me, from the incessant songs of the birds to the first insects as they were energized by the rays of sunlight, motivating them into a frenzy of activity.  Life was apparent all around.

             
Back inside, I began to think about the task at hand, making Ravens Deep a living, breathing house once more.  I cleaned and polished the floors and the usable surfaces, I took the cushions and anything else I could carry into the garden to shake and hopefully remove the years of ingrained dust.  In the master bedroom, I decided to take the beautiful linens and put them away, rather than try to wash them.  The fabric seemed so delicate that it might disintegrate in my hands.  I left all the curtains intact, including the ones on the bed, as I could see no way of removing them.  A few hours later and the interior was transformed from the previous day.  The surfaces shone like new and now with most of the dust and grime removed, the whole house took on a more dignified quality.

             
It was early afternoon and after working all morning. I was eager to explore the village and I decided I had had quite enough of house cleaning for one day.  I locked up the house, and drove back along the winding lane to the main road that led to Beaconmayes. 

             
The village had most amenities, a small grocery store, a baker, a hardware store and chemist, even a little park. I spent an enjoyable hour walking the length of the village high street and visiting the various shops, eventually I bought a sandwich from the bakers and went to sit on the park bench.

             
Several fat ducks were swimming in a small pond close to where I sat.  They were very tame and upon seeing I had some food, waddled out of the water and stood watching me expectantly.  Obviously they had become accustomed to being fed by the locals. As I gave the last of my sandwich to one of the more persistent ducks, an older man whom I had noticed earlier in the village walked up and sat at the other end of my bench. He had a bag of breadcrumbs and sat patiently feeding the ducks.  We both smiled, as the ducks squabbled amongst themselves for the crumbs. He glanced in my direction and acknowledged me with a nod and his greeting.

             
“Good Afternoon.”

             
“Hello.  .  .  isn’t’ this is a lovely place?”  I replied cordially.  He turned to me, the sunlight catching his silver hair and making it seem almost white.

             
“Yes it is,” he nodded, “one of the few unspoiled villages.  Are you visiting?” he inquired after a moment of hesitation.

             
“Well, not really, I am staying in the area for a while. . .” I paused, “up at Ravens Deep.” The man did not seem to give any indication that he recognized the name, so I continued. “It is about four miles from here.”  He gave a nod of acknowledgement.

             
“Is that a holiday place?” he asked, breaking the silence. I smiled warmly at him.

             
“No, it’s just an old house, belonging to a friend.”  I felt that this was not much of an explanation, so I continued.  “It is quite hidden and remote, off the beaten track a bit, but the views from up there are beautiful.” 

             
The ducks, realizing we had nothing more to offer, had gone back to the pond. After a few moments, I turned to him.  I sensed he was local and he might be a useful person to tell me more about the area.

             
“How long have you lived here?” I asked.  The man seemed to think for a bit.              

             
“About sixty two . . . three years,” he laughed.  “Too long . . . I should have left long ago.”  I smiled in return, but thought that it was a bit of a strange comment, and after a few minutes my own curiosity got the better of me.

             
“Don’t you like living here?”  I asked, hoping he didn’t think I was prying into his personal affairs, especially when he seemed to think about the question in detail before he answered.

             
“I have always loved the countryside, but it can get very lonely and sometimes beautiful can get boring,” he concluded with a knowing look. I saw a look of sorrow lurking in his eyes as he continued.  “I was going to leave, just never got around to it.”  He fell silent for several more moments and I thought perhaps I had been too forward and I should not push him any further.  But it was he who spoke next.

             
“Have you been up to Selman Point yet?” his train of thought and mood had changed completely. 

             
“No, I haven’t heard of that what is it?”  I replied with interest.

             
“It is the highest point on this coast, you can look down to the sea and across the moors for miles, there is a signpost on the other side of the village. You can‘t miss it.”

             
“I will certainly drive up there, thank you.  I’m Madeline by the way, Madeline Shaw.”  My companion turned to me and extended his hand.

             
“Samuel Dunklin,” he replied.  We shook hands, then sat quietly just enjoying the

peaceful
afternoon.  As reluctant as I was to leave, I knew I should get back to Ravens Deep, so I stood up.

             
“It was nice to meet you Samuel.”

             
“Likewise, Madeline, I hope you have a nice stay in . . . what did you call it?” Samuel brow furrowed trying to recall my earlier words.

             
“Ravens Deep.”               

             
“Ah yes.  .  .  I cannot ever remember hearing that name before though.”

             
“It belongs to Mr. Chambers, I believe the family has owned the house for years,” I said patiently, in an effort to jog his memory.

             
“Chambers?” He looked at me sharply. “There was a family, I don’t think that was their name though, they owned everything around here.” He seemed thoughtful as if he were trying to recall a memory. I was interested to hear that fact and sat down again, shifting my position on the bench to face him.

             
“Does the family still live close by?” Samuel paused for a moment.

              “They were an old family and it’s just an old story,” he said a little dismissively, but he caught my inquiring look and obvious interest.  “It happened a very long time ago, before my time.” He hesitated again.

             
“What happened?”  I moved a little closer to him. Samuel had sparked my interest with his few curious words and I was eager to hear this old story. 

             
“I only remember the stories that my grandfather told,” he said looking at me cautiously, “and I am not even sure if there is any truth to them,” he added, by way of an explanation. I smiled in encouragement and waited for him to begin.

             
“The family was wealthy; they owned houses, farms and much of the land for miles, there were many stories that surrounded the family, but one story began to circulate around the village that caused a stir in the whole community. It was said that the family disappeared one night. Some speculated that they had simply moved away to another county, but others believed in a darker reason for their disappearance, they believed they had been murdered.  The speculation was fuelled by the fact that several people died mysteriously in the village around this time and then the animals began dying in the fields for no apparent cause,” he paused, “the local people believed they had been put under a curse!” he concluded dramatically. I tried not to, but the tone of his voice and words made me smile. Samuel saw my look.             

“You have to remember people believed in dark magic and even today you would be shrewd not to dismiss that thought completely.  Most villages have rituals that they uphold to chase away the evil spirits and this one is no different.” He considered for a moment.  “The times have changed, but many still believe.”
I felt an odd sort of shiver run down my spine.

             
“What is the curse?” I asked softly, catching my breath in anticipation. Samuel looked at me for a long moment and then he took his focus to the duck pond.

             
“I don’t remember,” he said, a little too quickly, “it all happened too long ago,” and in that answer, I knew he wasn’t going to tell me. I stared at him, while I digested this curious information. He didn’t appear to be joking, or trying to scare me, he really believed something sinister happened here and the subtle indication was, it was still occurring.  But my thoughts on the subject were more rational.

             
“I have read that this village was once a leper colony, so some of the village people could have died of the squalid living conditions that they had to endure,” I reasoned.  Samuel pursed his lips, thinking.

             
“Ah well, some say that was what happened,” he replied. “I cannot seem to recall the family’s name though. Was it Chambers?” He appeared to have had enough of this line of questioning and had brought the conversation full circle back to the family name.

“
I don’t think that was the name,” he said at last.

             
I began to feel that perhaps Samuel was a little senile, as sensible people didn’t really believe in such stories. After a few moments more I asked what he thought really happened to the family as the land and houses had to belong to someone today. Samuel’s mood visibly lightened.

             
“Ah, no one knows for sure, some must have survived and it is thought they came back to live in these parts.  One thing I can tell you, all the land you see around here is in some sort of trust, can never be sold. Still owned by descendants of that family, if any remain.”

             
Samuel had definitely sparked my interest and I wished he could have remembered the name of the family, at least I would be able to research the history myself.  I knew that even though the story was probably just folklore, there was often an element of truth behind most strange stories, but I doubted if it was really as sinister as Samuel had indicated. I stood up and smiled back at my companion.

             
“Well, I really have to be leaving.” I bade him good-bye and walked slowly back to my car. It struck me as odd that Samuel didn’t appear to know of Ravens Deep, having lived in the area for so long, and what was all that nonsense about dark magic and curses?  Could it be that Samuel was just superstitious, as some country folk were even in this day and age.  Maybe, he just didn’t’t get out that much, and Ravens Deep was well concealed. It wasn’t that hard to imagine that unless you knew of the exact location, even the locals wouldn’t’t necessarily know it existed.

             
I drove back to Rush Lane and to the first driveway that indicated Ravens Farm. I thought then that I should have asked Samuel about it, as farms were often better known than houses.  I stopped the car and got out.  I walked a little way up the driveway, which appeared to stretch into the distance, but I could see no farm buildings.

             
Maybe I should drive down and find the farmhouse.

             
But as I looked at the track it appeared that I would need an off road vehicle to navigate the terrain, as parts of it had been so churned up that it looked un-drivable and also very steep, as my eye followed the cobbles downwards and out of sight between the hedgerows. Now I was standing here it didn’t even look like a main entrance and certainly had not been used recently.              I returned to my car, and continued on to Ravens Deep.  I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, the sinister story I had been told, or the general remoteness of where I was, but the lane seemed even longer this time.

*
*  * 

             
I unpacked my groceries, and set the newly purchased mousetraps.  Then I unpacked my notebooks and laid them and my research papers on the desk in the library.  Tomorrow, I would concentrate on their content and start to write my book. As for today, I was determined to be outside for what remained of this warm and sunny afternoon.

             
Outside in the garden, I sat down on one of the less ornate chairs that I had dragged out with me, the stone bench was just too hard to sit on for a long period of time. Having already selected a couple of old books from the library, I settled down with them. It was a perfect afternoon.

             
I managed to read for a little while, but found it difficult to remain idle.  As the general  state of the garden beckoned me, it was in dire need of attention. I put the book to one side and knelt on the ground.  The flowers were choking under the strangled hold of the bindweed, which had attached itself to everything in sight. But despite their near suffocation, they still managed to poke their heads through the tangled undergrowth, but the garden was stifled, every plant was desperately competing for position in this miniature jungle. I resolved just to pull a few weeds out, but before long, I was completely absorbed with the undertaking.