Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (38 page)

“You are suggesting,” I said, as we began our Descent of the upper Staircase, “that mine Ideas are mistaken, and from Mrs H., to boot.”

“Yes, Tristan. I am.”

“I would that you were right, Erasmus!” I replied. “But they are not, my Friend. I have the Proof of that.”

“Do you, Sir? Where? What is the Evidence that may be confirmed by our common Observation?”

“I cannot shew you,” I answered.

“What Conclusion should we, properly, draw from that Omission?”

“If it were the Case that I could shew you no Proof because I had none, your Skepticism would be justified; but that is not how ’tis. I cannot shew you because—” I broke off.

“If it please you, Sir, continue,” Erasmus said.

“It is a private Matter.”

We reached the Landing. I turned towards my Study and led Erasmus within for the second Time that Daye—which I knew to be exactly half as many Times as he had been between its Walls since we had arrived from London. I had not made him unwelcome; but I perceived that Erasmus had very swiftly taken the Measure of the House, and my Family’s Habit of Separation and Withdrawal soon became his own. Because of my Father’s Incapacity, his Library, which for so many Yeares had been his private and uncontested Territory, had been left vulnerable to Incursion; so Erasmus had taken up a temporary Residence therein, almost as if he had been mine older Brother. The strangest Effect of this, from my Point of View, was that I had over the past Weeks spent more Houres among my Father’s things than I had done in twenty Yeares; and the Stranger who now inhabited it seemed closer to me than Flesh and Blood.

Erasmus was good enough to assist me with my Creatures, whilst I saw to the Closure of my Shutters, and poked up my Fire.

“Wilt tell me once again about Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones?” Erasmus began again, as he drew the Cloth over my Cage of Squirrells.

I stood up, and returned the Poker to its Stand with perhaps more Vigour than the Act demanded. “Egad, Erasmus!” I said. “What more dost require me to say? I have told you all I know. Raw Head is the Prince of Goblins, Ravisher of Maids; and Bloody Bones the Keeper of the Dead. They are two, who tho’ seeming Twins, are really the bitterest of Enemies.”

“Would it amaze you,” Erasmus said, “if I told you that I grew up in mortal Horrour of a Monster exactly alike to your Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones? My Mother convinced me that if I was disobedient, Lambskin would carry me off and skin me alive. There are many such nursery Fiends, Tristan, but none of them are real; and as we grow older, rational Men must cease believing in them.”

I laughed bitterly. “Verily, thou art wrong,” I said. “Our Cases are not alike at all. Raw Head and Bloody Bones are not one, but two; and they are no mere Boggarts fit only to terrify little Children out of Sleep. Raw Head is the Goblin Knight.”

“The Goblin Knight is a Character in a Ballad, and I can think of no Song in which he is also Raw-Head-and-Bloody-Bones.”

“Pshaw! Those Balladeers are wrong also; I know the Truth.”

“Balladeers,” Erasmus said, “sing a mere Tale, which hath no Power in this World to be wrong or right. Our rational Understanding, however, hath the Capacity to discern Truth from Fiction, and guide us away from Superstition. There are no Goblins, Tristan.”

I felt a great Annoy at this, but not wishing to lose my Temper with my Friend I cast around for something with which to distract My Self. The Flames were licking upwards within the Fireplace, and as the Heat increased, it occurred to me that now was as good a Time as any to burn Katherine’s ruined Slippers. I searched about in the Vicinity of the Hearth, where she had kicked them off
upon the previous Evening, but to my Surprize found nothing. I straightened up, and cast my Gaze over the whole Room, lest the Items had been placed upon my Desk or in some other inappropriate Place; but I did not see them. Then I noticed that her woollen Cloak, also, was gone. Mine Heart chilled beneath my Breastbone.

The most likely thing, I knew, was that Molly Jakes or any other of the Maids had taken the Cloak and Slippers away to Laundry. But I remembered, suddenly, horribly, and as if I were remembering a Nightmare, how a Gnome had stolen my Papers in Henry Fielding’s House.

“I have left her alone!” I cried. “I have left her; I should not have done that!”

“Tristan,” Erasmus said, lowering the red Cloth he had held in his Hands and hastening swiftly to my Side. “Calm yourself, my dear Fellow; there is nothing to fear.”

“You are wrong,” I said. “There is everything to fear.” I pushed past him. “I have left Miss Montague alone; the Monsters may break in while she is unprotected. Her Cloathes are missing; her Cloak and her Shoes. Raw Head may have learned already of her Presence here.”

“Tristan, Tristan,” said Erasmus, taking hold of mine Elbow. “Please—wilt not entertain a different Explanation?”

“What might that be? Unhand me, Erasmus; I must go to her.”

“Is it not possible,” Erasmus said, “that her Cloathes are not here because they never were; because Miss Montague is still safely in Dorset with her Uncle Whitcross?”

“What?” I whirled to face him.

“What is more like to be the Truth?” Erasmus asked. “That Miss Montague, who is but fifteen, hath crosst open Country by herself,
and hath broken into the Hall against everyone’s Knowledge but your own; or that you have been once more cruelly deceived by your perceptual Faculties; that you have been half dreaming, perceiving the Event you yearn for to have been, against all Probability, made manifest?”

I shook free mine Arm.

“She is not here, Tristan,” Erasmus said.

Now, it may be supposed that this Assertion by Erasmus Glass, that Katherine was not here, and that all I had experienced with her in the previous Houres had been the Work of mine Imagination, would have been deeply hateful to me. In Truth, however, it was not. In mine Heart, as in my Mind, as in my very Loins, I knew that Katherine was every bit as real, and every bit as present as mine own Body; and one tentative Suggestion from a Man who, however respected, had not seen her had no Power to shake my Certainty. Neither was I angry to hear the Assertion voiced, for it appeared to me that Erasmus spoke neither in Jest nor out of any Desire to alarm me; he believed what he said, absurd as his History
was in the Face of my Reality. Moreover, and finally, it seemed to me an highly amusing thing that he was so mistaken, and that he should probably think himself most comically stupid when he discovered his Error. All these Thoughts flashed thro’ mine Head in less than half a Second; then all were gone from mine Awareness, displaced by the overwhelming Fear that I had left Katherine in Danger.

Abandoning Erasmus, I fled from my Study and ran pell-mell up the Stairs to my Chamber. I was distantly conscious of Erasmus calling out my Name, and beseeching me be calm and resist falling into Panick, but I paid no Heed to him. Reaching my Door, I fumbled for a Moment with my Key; it was with Difficulty that I fitted it into the Lock, for mine Hands were shaking, and my Candle had been extinguished in my mad Rush. Finally, I was able to turn it. I threw open my Door and flung My Self into the Room.

Katherine appeared before me sitting on the Bed, bathed in golden Firelight. I ran to her, and took her sweet ivory Form straight up into mine Arms. “Are you well?” I asked her. “Hath there been aught Mishap? I thought Raw Head had stolen in—I was frightened for your Safety.”

“I am well, my Love,” she said, soothing my Terrour with a Kiss. Mine Agitation began, slowly, to subside. I kissed her again upon the Crown of her Head, and then, hearing Erasmus upon the Stairs, bade her wait my Return but a little longer, and left the Room as precipitantly as I had entered it, almost bowling over my poor co-Physician, who had just arrived at the Door.

“Peace, Tristan, Peace!” Erasmus exclaimed, catching at mine Elbow as I bounded into the Hallway. “For God’s Sake, there is no Danger. Be easy, Sir.”

“Verily, Erasmus, you are right,” I said, my Voice a-flood with Relief. “Miss Montague is well. There hath been no Incursion. We shall proceed down the Stairs.”

“Miss Montague is not here,” Erasmus insisted. “Is she, Tristan? Is she? Answer me, truly.”

I shook mine Head at him, tho’ not, as he may have supposed, in Answer to his Question, and then continued my Circumambulation of the House, which, after I had thoroughly shut up the lower Floors, eventually led me to my Father’s Library. Here I paused, and looked toward Erasmus. I could not to my Satisfaction conclude mine Inspection without venturing within, and this he knew. After a Moment during which I apprehended he should refuse me Entry, he reluctantly opened up the Door.

My Father’s Library was on the ground Floor of the House, almost directly underneath my Study. I suddenly remembered how, in the early Dayes, when I had been new in Possession of my little Universe, it had sometimes pleased me to imagine that I sate upon the Crown of a Tree that had its Roots below, in his Soil. I had not indulged this pretty Phantasy for Yeares, and its Revival shocked me. The Furnishings were warm, and comforting red. Rich damask Draperies shielded the cold Glass of the Window, and the dark panelled Walls reflected the dancing Flames within the Grate. The Aire hung with the Fragrances of old Paper, and leather Binding.

In a great Rush, I recalled the Thoughts I had had regarding my Father’s Treatment; and tho’ I somewhat hazily recalled how I had been unable to write them down, I remembered the Ideas themselves as clearly as I remembered the Touch of Katherine’s silken Skin beneath my Fingers.

“I have been composing a Treatise,” I announced, suddenly, “upon
the likely Cause and appropriate Treatment of my Father’s unhappy Condition, which we commonly designate Stroake, despite that of all things that may have occasioned it, a Strike from an Elf-Arrow is the most unlikely.”

Erasmus put down his candle upon my Father’s Escritoire, and regarded me, his Eyebrows lifting. “Indeed,” he responded, slowly. “I concur; the Condition is poorly named. But our superstitious Forebears had no Way of knowing that ’twas not the Work of evil Elves, shooting the Unwary from behind old Trees. So, what are your Ideas regarding it?”

“I conceive,” I said, “that the sudden onset of the Paralysis doth imply a sudden Cause; but that my Father’s continuing Affliction doth suggest some more permanant Rupture of the nervous Connexion between the Brain and the afflicted body Parts, whatever they may be. For doth not the nervous Web extend thro’out the whole human Flesh, and is not its Purpose that of ensuring that such Communication take place?”

“Verily,” Erasmus said, slowly, “I think it is; but if ’twere merely the Case that the Fibres were broken betwixt, say, Limb and Spine, then why should there also result the general Incapacity of Speech and Movement that hath afflicted your Father?”

“I have not finished,” I said. “’Tis mine Hypothesis that the Injury lieth within the Brain itself, and therefore hath a more general than specific Effect. Do you not recall the Exploration that we made of the Brain and Spinal Cord during the Dissection we performed with Dr Hunter? Do you remember how the Brain itself appeared to be largely composed of nervous Tissue, wrappt in Fat and well supplied with Blood?”

Erasmus paused, and I saw in his Eyes an Uncertainty, perhaps as to my Purpose in introducing the Topic. I could not guess. But
within Seconds, his Surgeon’s Instincts seemingly took him over, and he said: “Do you suggest that your Father hath sustained a Blow to his Head that hath caused Injury to his Brain? There is no Sign of any such Insult.”

“I suggest,” I said, “that his Brain is injured. Whether he sustained a Blow or not I cannot say, for tho’ it seems reasonable to suppose it, I suspect the proximate Cause to be a cerebral Aneurysm, which may be in itself the Result of some Failure of Regulation within the Body itself.”

“Certainly, that is possible,” Erasmus said.

“’Tis merely an Hypothesis,” I answered him.

Erasmus began to pace the Chamber in front of the Fire. I watched him closely, awaiting his Response, and as he continued to pace and to ponder, became somewhat concerned that he had discerned some severe Flaw in my Reasoning that would collapse mine whole Theory. Finally, he looked up, and giving an anxious Smile, as one might to a Person to whom one must deliver difficult Newes, said: “Tristan, I know not whether to speak to you upon this be intirely wise, but I believe I must chance it. Sit down. Sit, and listen, if you can. Is it still your Desire to return to London, and study under Dr Hunter at the Hospitals?”

Seeing no Reason to refuse, tho’ I was somewhat perplext by Erasmus’ Aspect, I sate My Self upon one of the high backed Chairs that were propped up against the chimney Wall of my Father’s Library. “Naturally, I do,” I said. “Why would I wish otherwise? I must work, especially if I am to marry.”

“As to your marrying,” Erasmus said quietly. “Neither would your Family permit you to marry, nor your Marriage be considered valid.”

My Mouth fell open. “Why not?” I demanded.

“You are not well, Sir,” Erasmus said, in a soothing Tone. “If you were to wed now, your Family would presume that your Marriage resulted from your being not in your right Mind, and God alone knows what Confusion would result from it.”

“What?” I stared at him.

“Pray, be easy,” Erasmus said. He paused, studying me closely, and then resumed, speaking this Time with no less Care, but quite quick, as if he wanted to be done with the Words as soon as possible: “We have spoken of this more than once already, but I fear that you do not remember. Your Family, Mr Hart, would presume you mad because, for many Weeks, you have been so far out of your Senses that ’tis only because of mine own extensive Efforts that you were not put into a private mad-House.”

This was too much. I leapt to my Feet, clattering over my Chair in mine Agitation. “What?”

“Sit down!” Erasmus said, to mine Amazement leaping up also and catching hold of both mine Arms. He stared intently into mine Eyes. “Sit down, Tristan! ’Tis the Truth, painfull as it is for you to hear it. Yet I must tell you, and tell you now, whilst you are in your Senses; for right now you seem yourself, and shewing a Rationality that hath been hidden all Daye, behind your constant Worry upon Raw Head. You have been very ill, Sir, more ill than you know; and you are not well, yet, despite your Conviction.” He gave mine upper Arms a short, bracing Shake. “But you will be. You will be, Tristan. Sit down, for God’s Sake; please, sit down.”