The Red Judge (10 page)

Not until I'd got away
.

It was a senseless thing to do, of course – completely crazy, just like everything else. For there could be no hiding what I'd done. Dr Katterfelto would know something was wrong the moment Gilda failed to return indoors. Even if he missed the blood on the stable floor – even if he failed, at first, to see my weasel footsteps sneaking off through the snow – he'd know that something was terribly wrong.

Later, I felt horror at what I'd done. But, at the time, I was in shock. I remember telling myself that a madman must be lurking about, having done this terrible thing, or a convict on the run or a burglar. I must have known that it was me, but I tore out of that stable block and off down the mountain as if whoever had done this thing might get me next.

Looking back, that entire journey is wiped from my mind. All I can remember is suddenly seeing the rooftops of the village ahead of me, lit by a clear sky. I slipped down the pass road into the village, telling myself that if I could only make it back to Prospect House then I'd be safe.

But I was fooling myself. I would never be safe again. I had changed, and my world had changed with me. Even Prospect House had changed, as if something subtle and catastrophic had happened to it. As it had, of course – and that something was
me
.

For ever afterwards, Prospect House would be notorious. A shadow would hang over it. It would be the birthplace of that famous local murderer, Zachary Fitztalbot. For that was who I was, and that was what I'd done. It hadn't been a madman or a convict or a burglar who'd killed Gilda Katterfelto.

It was me
.

Finally the full horror hit home. I imagined policemen coming after me with cars and helicopters and guns. Imagined my parents never speaking to me again as they died a thousand deaths of social shame. Imagined the village turning its back on me, and Pawl turning his face away, and even Grace turning in her grave, ashamed to share the same blood.

But worse than all of that –
worse by far
– I imagined Gilda Katterfelto being dead. I'd taken everything from her, from the way she tucked her hair into her green silk cap to the sparkle in her emerald eyes. She'd never again help her father with his magic shows, or bow to him as if he was the undisputed master. I'd taken that from him, as well. Taken it from both of them, along with everything Gilda might have done, or felt or been. I'd taken her whole life – and there was nothing I could do to bring it back.

I'll have to give myself up, I thought, standing outside Prospect House, looking up at its dark windows. I'll have to make a confession to the police. There's no way I can hide a thing like this. Anyone who sees me will know what I've done. They'll see it in my eyes. See it written all over me. I can't escape from it.

I entered the house, determined to do the deed straightaway, before I changed my mind. Before I
could get halfway down the hall, however, I saw a dark figure sitting on the stairs. I didn't need to switch on the lights to know that it was Dr Katterfelto – and that he was waiting for me.

He stared at me, and I stared back, wondering how on earth he'd done that – found his daughter's body underneath the bus, and put two and two together and come up with me, and then got down the mountain to the village ahead of me.

But that was what he'd done, and now his wait was over. He rose to his feet, and I started to stutter stupid words that wouldn't come out right, and made no difference anyway. For Dr Katterfelto hadn't come to hear me stumble over the word ‘sorry', no matter how many times I tried to get it out. Nor had he come for the assurance that I was just about to hand myself in. He hadn't come for anything that I might do in my attempts to make amends.

He'd come to get me!

To take the law into his own hands.

To punish me
.

One look at his face, and I knew that I was done for. I turned tail and fled the house, knowing that there'd be no point in pleading for my life. I slammed the front door behind me, and the gate as well, gaining precious seconds, then headed down the lane in the direction of the bridge.

But Dr Katterfelto was right behind me. I slid down the side of the bridge and headed off across the meadow, but couldn't shake him off. I tried to stay ahead, but didn't stand a chance. I was too weary, and he was too fast. Finally he made a grab for me and held on tight. I tried to break away, and suddenly it
was like a strange Christmas pantomime, full of mime but without the jokes. Not a word was said between us. Dr Katterfelto got me by the shoulders and dragged me to the water's edge. I fought him desperately, but he was extraordinarily strong and I couldn't escape.

Finally I stopped struggling. I was certain that Dr Katterfelto was going to drown me but there was nothing I could do to stop him. I hung in his arms, knowing that whatever happened next, I deserved it.

‘Let me show you one last wonder!' Dr Katterfelto hissed, lifting my face up close to his. ‘One last trick before we part ways – and I'm sure that you'll agree it's
my best yet
!'

His eyes burned into me like twin fires. I couldn't get away from them but, the more I looked, the stranger I felt. I couldn't think straight, couldn't move and, in the end, couldn't even breathe. I needed air, but couldn't get it. My face felt hot, and my body started pouring with sweat.

I knew I had to break away, but couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't even feel my heartbeat any more. It was as if a coup was taking place, imprisoning my body inside my mind. I know that doesn't make much sense, but that's the only way I can explain it.

And that's the way that Dr Katterfelto wanted it. ‘Now you're mine,' he hissed. ‘All mine. Your life in my hands, just like Gilda's was in yours. What does it feel like? Can you tell me? Come on, say something. Don't just stand there like a lump of wood!'

But that was what I felt like. A lump of wood. I stared at the doctor, and my arms felt like winter branches on a dead tree, my feet like a pair of gnarled,
old, twisted roots and my fingers sapless and skeletal, like last year's leaves. Worse still, when I looked into the doctor's eyes, all I could see was a dead old tree. No sign of me. No reflection of Zachary.

Just a tree.

As if he knew what I could see, the doctor smiled. And then I understood. It surely wasn't possible, and yet he'd done it. The famous Dr Katterfelto – undisputed master of village halls and palaces –
had turned me into a tree
.

‘Now you know what sorry means,' he said, taking a low bow, as if I was his best trick ever. ‘You know it right down in your bones. What a marvel I've created! What a wonder you are! They should try a little hocus pocus when they want to punish murderers. It'd save a lot of trouble. Clear the backlog in the courts and cut down on man-hours and expense. And what wonderful results! For every evil, killing bastard, a beautiful tree!

‘You should thank me, Zachary Fitztalbot. For the first time in your life, people will look up to you. They'll stop to shelter in your shade, rest beneath your branches, picnic under you and even carve their love-hearts in your skin. You'll have a use at last, instead of being a waste of space.
You'll have a purpose to your miserable life!
'

He turned to go, leaving me behind. It was the bitterest of nights, and getting colder all the time. Everything was glittering, from the stars in the sky to the Afon Gwy, which was freezing over. It was the sort of frost you read about in books – the sort that people tell tall tales about and never forget. The sort where people die.

I tried, deep down inside, to cry for help, but not a sound came out. Dr Katterfelto turned back once, to take a final look. His eyes were cruel, entirely without pity. I knew that, when he'd gone, I would remember them. I'd stand here like this, rooted to the spot, and the triumph in his eyes would remain with me for ever. It was his parting gift. It was the conjuror's revenge.

Above me shone more stars than I had ever seen in my life, and beneath them the valley sparkled with a frost that covered everything like a second layer of snow. Rooftops glittered as if made of jewels, and St Curig's church spire looked like a silver space rocket pointing to the sky. The Afon Gwy looked silver too, but no longer did it run down the valley chattering on its way. Instead it was frozen over from one side to the other. Frozen and immobile, going nowhere.

Just like me
.

By now, my feet were one with the river bank, frozen to it, never to move again. My blood was frozen in my veins, and my eyes were choked with crystals that confused my vision, forcing me to see as if through a prism. Everything I looked at seemed broken into pieces. Nothing looked whole any more.

Even the distant outline of Plynlimon looked like a jumble of shapes, rising from the valley floor like an abstract painting. It was hard to believe that I'd ever found myself up on that mountain, not knowing how
I'd got there. What an ending this had turned out to be, after all my efforts to return to Pengwern!

The night grew colder all the time. Birds froze on their roosts, dying where they slept. I would have given anything to die as well. To deep-freeze fast and get it done with. But, oh no, I had to linger on, feeling the coldness eating into me.

Sometime in the night, I heard a distant sound of singing. I couldn't see a soul but, as the thin notes drifted my way, I realised that I was listening to a carol.
Midnights clear
came drifting my way, and
harps of gold
, and
peace on earth
and
wings unfurled
. At first none of it made any sense at all, but then I saw lights on in St Curig's church, and realised that it was Christmas Eve.

Happy Christmas, Zed!
I thought. I couldn't have felt more sorry for myself. In the distance, I could see tiny figures coming out of church and heading off into the darkness. One of them was Pawl's. He climbed on to his sled and headed for home, pulled by Harri and Mari.

I watched him all the way. When he drew level with the tin house, instead of turning down the bank, he carried on. It was as if he couldn't find his home, and was searching for it. He reached the bridge and started down its side and across the meadow. I wished that he could see me. Wished that I could do something to attract his attention. The sled crossed the frozen river, right in front of me, then turned round and came back, Pawl grinning and waving as if my wish had come true.

When I didn't wave back, he started calling. ‘What do you … think you're doing … standing there with
… your arms in … the air don't … look at me … like that Zed … are you all … right what are … you playing at?' he called.

How did Pawl know that I was Zed? I stared at him woodenly, and he stared back as if my identity was obvious. Again he asked what I was doing and, when I still didn't answer, he drew the sled round in front of me and started frowning like a cross child.

‘You can't just … stand there help … yourself come on … don't be so … stupid pull yourself … together Zed stop … playing stupid games …' he said.

Still I didn't answer, and then Pawl started getting angry. He got down from the sled and came stomping through the snow to thrust his scowling face into mine and breathe clouds of white breath all over me. I still couldn't figure out how he knew who I was, but now even Harri and Mari were staring as if my identity was an open secret.

‘What's wrong is … something up with … you why won't … you move has … someone hypnotised you?' he shouted into my face.

He didn't mean it, of course. It was just a figure of speech. But then Pawl started shaking me as well and, in his eyes, I saw myself reflected. Only it wasn't the new me that I saw. Wasn't the Zed who'd been turned into a tree. It was the old me – and, as soon as I saw it, I knew that Pawl was right.

I
have
been hypnotised! I thought. I only think I'm a tree, but I'm not really. It's just a trick on the doctor's part. Sleight-of-hand and sleight-of-mind. All just an illusion.
Dr Katterfelto's played a trick on me
.

Inside myself, anger started rising. No matter what I'd done to Gilda, I didn't deserve this. Even
murderers deserved justice – and this was as far from justice as anything could be.

Pawl stopped shaking, and tried to pick me up. I must have been a dead weight, because he failed. Don't think you'll get away with this, I raged silently against the doctor. Don't think that you can fool me. You haven't got a hold on me. My heart can beat all on its own, and I can breathe, and think, and feel and be. Right here, right now, I'm doing it – and you can't stop me. Do you hear? You think you can, but really
you can't touch me
!

It did the trick, too. Deep down inside myself, I felt the doctor lose his grip. Felt it like a straightjacket working loose. Suddenly my frozen body was melting, my muscles unknotting and my mind working free. My heart began to beat properly, and the blood to pump again. My fingers moved, and my arms dropped to my sides. My feet came back to life. I blinked away the crystals and looked Pawl straight in the eye.

Immediately his scowl melted, and he gave me a big hug. I was back, and he could see it. He tore the hat off his head and the coat off his back and put them on me. Then he half-carried, half-led me to the sled, settled me on the high bench seat, jumped up beside me, and we set off up the meadow towards the village.

The dogs pulled the sled with all the strength of a pair of pack-horses. I lay back and closed my eyes. Tomorrow I'd have to deal with what I'd done to Gilda. It wouldn't go away. I'd have to explain to Pawl about Dr Katterfelto, and what he'd done to me and why. I'd also have to give myself up to the police, and my parents would be dragged in. And then nothing in my life would ever be the same!