The Witch from the Sea (22 page)

My mother said it was robbery. “You are a brigand,” she had told him, “a pirate.”

And the answer: “This is an age of pirates.”

How dark it was. How the wind buffeted the great walls of the castle. And then the lull and the silence which was more frightening than the noise of the wind. The sudden noise from above. What was it—some rat or mouse … or the footfall of one who was dead and could not rest?

I am fanciful, I know it. I do imagine things. I kept staring into the gloom expecting at any moment to see the ghostly figure on the stairs. Nonna walking slowly, coming towards me, a terrible coldness enveloping me as I am close to the dead and Nonna whispering: “I warn you. I have come back to warn you.”

It was imagination. There was nothing … only the dark hall with the shapes I could see as my eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom.

What time is it? I wondered. How long had I been here?

Long enough for them to miss me.

I am going to spend the night in Ysella’s Tower, I thought. I remembered how many times I had wished to look inside. Well, now I had, and here I was, a prisoner.

I was trembling. I was certain I was not alone in the tower. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. What had Nonna felt when she knew that her husband had a mistress whom he kept in this tower? I could picture her bewildered grief. And then she had died. Had she died of her own will or was she helped to her death?

I wondered how long I had been in the tower. It must be two hours. It had been about three o’clock when I came. Now it must be five. They would have missed me by now. I was sure of it.

If only I had a light. If only I could find a candle. I would set it in one of the windows. What of the serving-girl who had seen me on the ramparts? Had she not gone back to her fellow servants and told them what she had seen? They would laugh at her. How many times had one of the servants sworn she had seen the ghost of Ysella’s Tower?

Perhaps I should go up to the ramparts. Someone might come into the courtyard. If I shouted someone might hear me in time.

I stood up. The fearsome eerieness wrapped itself about me. I almost fell over a bale which I had not noticed. Its sea-damp odour swept up as I touched it.

My footsteps echoed hollowly on the stone flags as I groped my way to the gallery and found the spiral staircase. I could feel the rope and I grasped it.

I really felt terror going up that staircase. I was overcome by an awful presentiment that something malignant was waiting for me at the turn. Still I went on. I had to get out of this place and I had more chance from the ramparts. If I shouted, there was a faint chance that someone might hear me, for they would surely begin to look for me when they found me missing.

I must surely be nearly at the top of the staircase. I seemed to have come a long way. I touched the wall—it was cold and clammy. I turned. The staircase was less curved than it had been. Gingerly I felt my way, taking care not to lift one foot from the stone before I was sure the other was firm.

I could feel the cold air from the ramparts and then suddenly my heart leaped in terror, for a flash of light illuminated the scene and came to rest on the hideous face of a gargoyle carved in the stone. He leered at me in the sudden light and I gave a scream as I fell backwards.

I could not have fallen far though because the turn of the staircase stopped that. I lay inert on the stone staircase and I felt consciousness slipping away from me.

Noises everywhere—voices. I was lifted in a pair of strong arms.

“Colum,” I said.

He said: “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

I knew I was in Ysella’s Tower because of the smell. It was everywhere. It was light now because there were several men and they all carried lanterns.

Colum brought me down the staircase to the hall. It looked different now with so many lanterns to light it up.

He said: “I’ll carry my wife. She cannot walk, I think. She has hurt her ankle.”

Two of the men went ahead, their lanterns lighting our way. I was aware then of the darting pain in my ankle.

I was taken up to our room and Jennet was sent up to me. She took off my clothes and wrapped me in a warm gown. Then she drew the curtains about my bed. Some of the women came up—those who were specially skilled with herbs and such like. One of them examined my foot and put a paste of herbs on it and wrapped it up tightly.

I must not stand on it, I was told.

So I lay there, thinking of Ysella’s Tower and I went on living those moments as I had mounted the stairs. Then I was given a posset to make me sleep and I did.

I did not see Colum next morning. I remained in my bed for it was painful to walk and it was dusk when Colum came in to our bedchamber. I still lay on my bed.

He drew the curtains back and looked at me lying there.

“Now I wish to know what you were doing in Ysella’s Tower,” he said.

“I found the door open and looked in.”

He leaned over me. His eyes were narrowed. He looked cruel. “You have been told not to go there.”

“The door was open. I saw no harm in looking in.”

“Yes,” he said, “that has been taken care of.”

“What?” I asked.

“He who left open the door has been punished.”

“Punished. How?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“It was my fault for going in.”

“It was indeed,” he said. “You knew you had no right.”

“I saw no harm,” I retorted. “I wanted to know what was in there.”

“If I had wanted you to know would I not have told you?”

“If it had been something of little importance you would have told me. As you did not I knew it was significant.”

“I expect you to obey me. Has it ever occurred to you what could happen if you angered me?”

“You could kill me, I suppose, as your ancestor killed his wife Nonna.”

There was a silence in the room. He did not move; he stood like a stone statue, his arms folded.

Then he said slowly: “Do not provoke me. You have yet to learn that I can be an angry man.”

“I know it well. I have seen something of your rages.”

“You have seen nothing yet.”

I had a feeling then that I did not know him. He was a stranger to me though he was the father of my children. I felt that he had worn a mask and that it was slowly slipping from his face.

I was not afraid of him, strangely enough. I knew that his rage could be terrible; I had lost sight of the man who had stormed into the inn, who had taken me to his Castle. I had forgotten that man in the gratified husband, who was so delighted with his son. But he was still there.

I thought: He is capable of killing me if I angered him, or if he wanted to be rid of me.

It was almost as though the ghost of Nonna had lingered with me, that she was telling me this, that she was warning me to take care.

I felt strangely reckless. I was going to confront him with my discovery. I was not going to pretend.

He stood there in that pose as though he kept his arms folded to stop their seizing me; and whether they would have caressed me or his fingers would have gripped my throat and he strangle the life out of me, I could not be sure.

What I realized in that moment was that I knew little of this man.

He said: “You should not have been in the courtyard. You should not have entered the tower. You could have stayed there for days and we not discover you. But for the fact that one of the servants was hysterical because she had seen a ghost on the ramparts and we found your petticoat there we might not have found you. When I knew you were missing I sent men out looking for you. You caused me great alarm.”

“I am sorry to have done that.”

“So should you be. Never behave in this way again or you will be sorry.”

“You sound … murderous. I believe you would kill me.”

“It is right that you should fear me.”

“I did not say I feared you. I said I thought you capable of killing me. You are hating me now because I have discovered the nature of your business.”

“What have you discovered?”

“That in the tower there are goods salvaged from the sea.”

“And why not?”

“You could tell me why you wish to keep them so secret.”

“Is it not better for me to take them than to let the sea have them?”

“They are cargoes of wrecked vessels. Do they belong to you?”

“Salvage belongs to those who bring it in.”

“Surely sometimes there are survivors. What then?”

“If there were, then the goods would doubtless be theirs, but if there are none we take them from the sea.”

“But why did you not wish me to know?”

“I do not intend to answer your questions. It is you who shall answer mine. Have you spoken of this to your mother?”

“How could I? I have not seen her since I discovered it.”

“Perhaps you were suspicious.”

“I have not spoken to my mother.”

He leaned forward suddenly and gripped my wrist.

“Then you will speak of it to no one. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you perfectly well.”

“What happens in my castle is my affair. Remember that. No one else’s.”

I said: “I never want to wear the ruby locket again.”

He said: “You will wear it.”

“It belonged to someone … someone drowned in a ship. Did you take it from her corpse?”

“Be silent, you foolish woman. Be glad that you have a husband who cherishes you enough to bestow gifts on you.”

“I don’t want those which have been snatched from the dead.”

He turned away and went to my trinket box. When he came back the chain with the ruby locket was in his hand.

“Put it on,” he said.

“I prefer not to.”

“You will put it on,” he told me.

I refused to take it.

With a savage gesture he fastened it about my neck. I felt it cold against my skin.

I shut my eyes and lay there. I felt helpless to resist him although my whole body cried out for me to do so.

He threw himself down beside me.

He caressed my neck and played idly with the chain.

He said: “You please me now as ever you did. I have never been so long delighted with a woman. You are fortunate, wife. We have our children and they please me. I want more sons though. We’ll have them. And there is something else we’ll have. You will do as I say and be happy to. You will say I have no will but his. And whatever he does, still for me it will be right. Say it.”

“Nay,” I said. “You may put a chain I do not want about my neck, you may do to me what you did on the night you drugged my wine. But you cannot change my feelings. If I do not like what you do, even if I do not say so I still dislike it and nothing will change that.”

He laughed aloud.

“You’ve got spirit. I grant you that. That’s good, for I want to see spirit in my sons. What should it be like if they inherited the mealy-mouthed fear of a silly woman. Nay, you please me.” He had my ear between his teeth suddenly and he bit it savagely. “But know this,” he went on, “I will do as I will and you will not spy on me. You will talk of nothing you see here. Is that understood? You will close your eyes if you are squeamish. You will accept what you see here, and you will never whisper a word of it to anyone. Do you understand?”

“I understand what you say.”

“And you understand that you will be expected to obey.”

“And if I do not?”

“Then you would let forth the full force of my wrath and that can be terrible. Remember it.”

Fear came over me then. I felt as though I had been deceiving myself and when he made love to me I knew there was no tenderness; there was only the will to force me to his.

The coldness of the dead woman’s trinket seemed to cut into my flesh. I kept seeing the dark beautiful eyes in the miniature. I wondered: Did he see them in reality. Did he take the necklace from her while she still lived?

I began to wish that I had never ventured into Ysella’s Tower. I had been more at ease in my ignorance. Yet something told me that if there was evil it was better to be aware of it. Evil! Was I applying that word to my life with my husband?

I knew that life had changed. I was now aware and alert, waiting for something … I was not sure what.

I
TRIED NOT TO
think too much about what was happening during those nights when Colum and his servants were out on their scavenging expeditions. They almost always took place during nights of storm, and I would lie frozenly in my bed waiting for Colum to come in. I could picture it all so clearly. The ship in distress; the goods floating on the water; the men scrambling aboard the sinking vessel. And what of the survivors? Why were they always so docile? In those days I was guilty of closing my eyes. I realize now that there was so much I did not want to know. I was not exactly in love with Colum, but he was important to me. There was an immense physical satisfaction in our relationship for him and for me as well and that was something which we both wished to preserve. I was fascinated by him, none the less so because he was something of a figure of mystery. He was a strong man and I believe that for some women—such as myself and my mother—power is the essence of physical attraction. When I was with Colum I could not help but be aware of his strength and his power to subdue everything and everyone around him. I found a thrill in standing out against that power and in his knowledge that I did. I enjoyed his efforts to subdue me which were triumphant for him because he could tell himself he had imposed his will on me, but I knew that whatever he did to me or insisted I do I would always preserve a part of my freedom to think as I wished.

Secretly he was aware of this. It baulked him and irked him, while it fascinated him.

So the months passed. My mother visited us now and then but I told her nothing of what I had discovered in Ysella’s Tower.

She would talk a great deal about how the business my father and the Landors were building up was progressing. There were disasters but it was growing and they must not expect to succeed completely at the beginning. Such an endeavour needed years of planning and work.

Once she said: “I wish the Landors were not so averse to meeting you and Colum. They would like to see you, of course, but would not see your husband.”