Kronos, p.13
Kronos, page 13
‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ Lorrimer replies.
‘I see why you might want to talk to me about that,’ says Kronos, holding up the jacket. He runs his fingers across every inch of the garment, showing that every button is in place. ‘Luckily, my coat is not missing a button. Is it?’
This throws Lorrimer, being forced to endorse the idea one way or the other. ‘It doesn’t appear to be, no.’
‘It isn’t,’ Kronos insists. ‘So, wherever the button came from, it can’t be from my jacket, can it?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lorrimer says. ‘Maybe you had a spare …’
‘A spare …’ Kronos nods. ‘I don’t, as it happens, which is no doubt foolish but there we have it. I am not a very practical man and I often forget things like that. Still, even if I had a spare I didn’t know what was left behind so why would I ask you about it, draw attention to it, if it really were my button?’
‘I don’t know sir, I’m sure,’ says Lorrimer.
‘I’m not your enemy,’ says Kronos. ‘I wish you would believe that – it would make things so much easier. If you would only let me get on with my business.’
‘Well, with respect, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ says Lorrimer. ‘If there’s nothing else I’d better get on.’
He slings the axe over his shoulder and walks away. Kronos shakes his head and steps back inside.
‘At least you found out what he knew,’ says Grost. ‘That’s the important thing.’
‘What else did you think was going to happen?’ I ask. ‘He is not your friend nor is he ever likely to be.’
Kronos nods. ‘Nor do I wish him to be, though it would be a lot easier if I didn’t get the impression that half the village would be pleased to see the back of us.’
‘These are not friendly times,’ I tell him. ‘Now come here: I think your leeches are full.’
Thirty-Two
What the Beer Brought out of Hollis
AND I’M SURE I shouldn’t talk, being as this is my establishment and I have a reputation to maintain.
I do, too, and I’ll thank you to keep your snide comments to yourself unless you want to get very thirsty in this village. There’s nothing wrong with my house. I serve a public need and I serve it very well.
Anyway, we had the strangers in here, didn’t we? Oh aye, asking whether I’d seen a coach and horses drive past. Well, I hadn’t and I would have told him so right enough except I didn’t hardly have time. That Kerro and the two dogs that hangs around with him was straight in there and threatening the pair of them, making a mockery of the hunchback and generally spoiling for a fight.
I don’t know if you could rightly say a fight is what they got – the foreign gentleman was far too quick for that. You barely saw his sword move!
‘Sorry for the mess,’ he says and before you know it I’ve got three dead bodies on the floor of my establishment, all of ‘em pumping blood from the throat something chronic. Buckets of it there were, and me mopping like an old woman for full half an hour.
But here’s the strange thing … I put the bodies out the back, didn’t I? Well, where else did you expect me to stack ’em? I didn’t have no staff on, did I? Stuck here on my own, I was. So I dumped them outside, next to where I put the scraps for the pigs. Figured I’d deal with it later when I could pop out, you know? Only I didn’t have to, did I?
Not ten minutes later, when I’m dumping the water I’ve used to clean the floor, I find that all three of them have vanished. Not a sign of them anywhere.
Of course they didn’t get up and walk! They were as dead as you get, all three of them. Kerro in particular would’ve had a hard time keeping his head on: a strong wind and he’d have been wearing it on his back like a tortoise’s shell. No, they were dead all right, but someone took ’em away! Now what do you think would make a person do that?
Thirty-Three
Marcus Goes Hunting
BY THE TIME I ride into my courtyard I’m feeling more like my old self and am inclined to write off the whole business as a momentary aberration. I have not been sleeping well since Petra Wilkins died. Indeed, I can hardly imagine doing so ever again. When I close my eyes it is to a vision of that fragile face of dust and crumbling teeth. Such images are not conducive to rest. Time eradicates most horrors and I dare say this will be no exception. But for the time being, a great deal has happened and it would be unreasonable of me not to expect it to have some effect. I am a strong man, yes, but not an invincible one. Tiredness, the heat, an unquiet mind … is it any wonder that I had a moment of illness?
‘Doctor?’ Lorrimer nods at me as I dismount. ‘Might I have a word?’
‘Of course,’ I reply, though in truth I’d rather he didn’t, the last thing I want is to deal with an imaginary ailment or some irritating matter of housekeeping. ‘Come inside.’
Lorrimer shifts uncomfortably at the thought of that. ‘I’d rather not, sir, if you please – I’d rather it were private.’
Oh dear God, please tell me it’s not going to be one of those medical conversations.
He leads me over to the far side of the courtyard, out of sight of the house windows. (It is obvious this is his intention because he keeps looking at them all the time.)
‘Well?’ I ask, possibly somewhat abruptly. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s your guests, sir,’ he says. ‘I feel, after what you did for my Mary, I owes you a little consideration, so I’m talking to you man to man, as it were.’
‘What’s the problem with my guests?’ I ask, imagining that Kronos has been clambering on the roof again or practising his swordsmanship in the nude.
‘They’re not welcome, sir,’ he replies. ‘Not welcome at all.’
‘Lorrimer,’ I say, trying not to grit my teeth too hard, ‘this is my house and I decide who is or who is not welcome.’
‘It’s not a matter of your house, sir: we don’t want them here in the village. Since they came we have had three girls lost to us and Father Volk gutted like a calf at market. It ain’t right …’
‘No, Lorrimer, it isn’t right at all. Both Petra Wilkins and Ann Sorrell died before my guests arrived.’
‘With all due respect, sir, we only has their word to go on for that – and their word ain’t worth much, in my opinion.’
‘Good God, this is ridiculous! You have no reason at all to suspect my friends of being involved.’
‘That’s not altogether true sir, a button was found near Father Volk’s body, a button off a military uniform.’
‘A button? Found by whom? I was the one that discovered the body, remember?’
‘Indeed I do, sir, and I’m sure you behaved in a proper fashion, no matter what they’re saying. It can’t have been easy, seeing something like that.’
‘“No matter what they’re saying”? Why, what are they saying?’
Lorrimer shakes his head. ‘Don’t mind yourself about that, sir, people will talk. I think such a reaction shows grace in the sight of such atrocity – I think no bad of you for it.’
We’re getting nowhere and I really have lost the little patience I had. ‘Look, Lorrimer,’ I say, ‘I really have had about as much of this as I can tolerate. I haven’t the faintest idea what behaviour of mine you’re referring to but might I suggest that you learn to take a little less gossip with your facts? My guests are staying until they or I deem otherwise and it is none of your business – or indeed the business of anyone in this parochial, nonsensical little village!’
And with that I storm off, every ounce of mood improvement that I have felt since my episode in the woods now lost. My head is pounding and my mouth is dry as I step inside my house to find Carla trying to prise leeches off Kronos’s back with a spoon.
‘You need to use a naked flame!’ insists Grost, ‘I read it once in a medical textbook … or was it a naturalist’s guide? My memory fails me …’
‘You need to do no such thing,’ I tell them. ‘You need to leave the bloody things alone and allow them to drop off when they are full.’ I glance at the veritable pack of the things that the silly girl has unleashed on Kronos’s back. ‘Or until you are empty, whichever happens sooner.’
‘Sorry,’ says Carla, looking suitably ashamed.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I tell her. ‘It’s the least of my concerns: I have a splitting headache and my handyman is warning me that I should have you booted out of the area because you’re not in the least welcome.’
‘And we try so hard to be charming,’ says Grost.
‘Indeed,’ I reply. ‘Peppering the area with dead amphibians is always appreciated. Thankless buggers, these locals, aren’t they, for not appreciating your efforts?’ I go to my medicine cabinet and take out a jar of peppermint leaves.
‘Is that for your headache?’ asks Carla.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I intend to make some peppermint tea. Why?’
‘No reason,’ she mumbles, returning to poke gently at Kronos’s back.
I make my tea in silence and then sit down at the table. After a moment I realise there’s no need to take my irritations out on them. To do so would be to behave as misguidedly as Lorrimer and the rest of the villagers.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m not feeling quite myself.’
‘Anything I can do?’ asks Grost.
‘Thank you, but no. I’m the doctor, after all. I prescribe peppermint tea, a little rest and then copious apologies to my poor house guests who certainly don’t deserve my irritable rantings.’
‘No apology necessary,’ says Kronos.
‘And I’m sorry about the leeches,’ says Carla. ‘I spilled them by accident while I was looking for something to deal with my headache. Then it seemed like fun to put them to good use.’
I smile and pour her a little of my peppermint tea. ‘I don’t blame you one bit,’ I say. ‘There’s nothing quite so fun as dumping leeches on a man, is there?’
‘They go so … puffy!’ she enthuses.
‘So what made you out of sorts?’ asks Grost.
I tell them about my meeting with the Durwards and my experience in the forest.
‘And you have no memory of what happened?’ asks Grost once I’ve finished.
‘No,’ I answer, ‘none. Though in fairness that’s not as unusual as it may sound. I had a patient once who frequently lost chunks of his day. From the moment he got up to the moment he went to bed his life was a series of events with little to join them together. He would keep finding himself somewhere new, in the middle of some business or another, with no memory of how he got there.’
Grost is fascinated by this. ‘And yet he would function normally during these lost periods?’
‘Absolutely. He was a grain merchant and he would hold entire conversations, conduct financial trans-actions … he was a very successful man of business. And yet he would often forget big chunks of his activities after the fact.’
‘I too have experienced something similar,’ says Kronos.
‘In your case it’s the hashish,’ jokes Grost. He looks at Carla and me. ‘On his worst mornings he can’t remember which way on his horse is forward.’
We both laugh and there is a strange atmosphere of friendship – of family, almost. Since this affair started, all sense of comfort or security has been lost to me. Even with Kronos’s arrival the problem has persisted, with no obvious solution in sight. Now, for the first time, I find I can imagine us succeeding in our attempts to rid ourselves of this creature.
‘And as for Lorrimer … They can be a petty bunch here in Padbury but, truth is, they’re just scared. Who can blame them? They feel the need to blame somebody and you three are the obvious choice because you’re strangers.’
‘At least they’ll probably think more fondly of us now,’ says Grost, ‘after Kronos here killed three ruffians in the local inn.’
‘You did what!’ My headache, which is gently waning thanks partly to the tea and partly to my improving mood, returns with a vengeance. Much more of this and I can visualise my eyeballs being forced from their sockets by the pulsing in my temples.
‘They were hired to kill Grost and me,’ says Kronos. ‘What would you expect me to do? I defended us and apologised for the mess. Besides, from our brief acquaintance, I cannot believe for one moment that they were much loved. Surely they were strangers to the area too?’
Ah … It occurs to me now who he is referring to: Kerro and his men. He’s right that they will not be missed. In fact, Hollis will probably find it improves business, having got shot of them.
‘Wait a minute,’ I say, thinking back. ‘You say they were actually hired to kill you?’
‘I believe so.’
‘You believe so … why?’
Kronos leans forward and counts the points he makes on his fingers. ‘They wanted to know who we were, suggesting that they needed to identify somebody specific. Once they recognised Grost from his … erm … description …’
‘He’s referring to my hat,’ says Grost. ‘They recognised it immediately.’
Kronos smiles and continues. ‘They were immediately pleased to have met the people they were after. They then proceeded to try and provoke a fight in the most ham-fisted manner possible.’
‘A fight that didn’t last long, it has to be said,’ adds Grost.
‘I don’t waste my time on amateurs,’ Kronos explains, ‘I’m a vampire hunter, not an exterminator of idiots. Finally, Kerro was carrying a large purse of silver coins.’ He pulls it from his pocket and drops it onto the table. ‘If it was his money I refuse to believe that he would choose to spend it on staying at the White Hart Inn.’
‘There you are quite right,’ I agree. ‘The place is a dump of the highest order.’ I reach for the coins and tip them out on the table. ‘That’s a lot of silver.’
‘Yours if you’ll take it,’ Kronos says. ‘Call it the hire charge on your stables.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t want your money.’
‘Nonetheless, you’ll take it because you’re far too much of a gentleman to refuse the gift.’
I open my mouth to argue more but Kronos holds up his hand. ‘Please.’ I shrug reluctantly and then nod my acceptance.
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘May I suggest you use it to move to a nicer village? Anyway … the point is that we have obviously ruffled the feathers of our prey. They would hardly try and kill us otherwise.’
Grost leans forward. ‘And it is worth noting that there’s only one family hereabouts who could afford such a payment.’
It takes me a moment but I grasp what he’s saying. ‘No,’ I insist. ‘I can’t believe it’s the Durwards. Lady Durward is in no fit state and neither Paul nor Sara are bad people …’
‘It interests me that you seem unwilling to call them ‘good’, however,’ says Kronos. ‘Tell me what they are rather than what they are not, as a wise woman once said.’ He looks at Carla who smiles.
‘They are two young people who still struggle under the shadow of their father,’ I say. ‘They are often unfriendly, awkward and strange. However, I do not believe they are monsters.’
Kronos nods. ‘Time will tell, as it always does. For now, might I suggest that we head once more into the forest? Our activities have made our prey uncom fortable thus far, so let us continue in the same vein!’
*
Taking a moment to wash my face and refresh myself, I stare into the mirror and look at the ageing man who stares back. There is plenty of grey in my hair, and the usual selection of lines and creases around my eyes, nose and mouth. I look at the skin on the back of my hands. It has the tough, solid quality of skin that has seen all weathers. I am not old, no, but I am closer to that state than I am to being young. It doesn’t bother me: I have seen a great deal and lived a full life. I might have wished that I had chosen to share it with someone but that was a situation that never arose and it’s too late to regret it seriously now. Would I want to live it all again? Would I want – as this creature that we are hunting so obviously does – a dose of my youth returned to me? I think not. Life, like the silver coins that are now on my bedside table, only has value because it is rare. If there was an endless supply of it what would be the point?
I head back downstairs and we step outside. Lorrimer has vanished, either to take his lunch or because he has left my employ altogether. I’m not sure I care which. Kronos and I saddle up the horses while Grost and Carla fetch several sacks of equipment. When they return they’re jangling like mummers and I can only imagine what it is they are laden with.
With Carla sharing Kronos’s horse – Of course! Did I not say it was only a matter of time? – we ride towards the forest.
I have no idea what our plan of campaign might be, nor do I care. There is something about Kronos that simply inspires confidence. There always was. In our regiment I think he was, more than anything else, the reason we survived. With his unassailable confidence supporting us, it simply never occurred to us that we could die and we therefore charged across our battlefields with such inspired confidence that we intimidated the enemy into meeting our high expectations of our victory and their defeat.
Not that any of us were proud of the fighting we did. There are noble battles and then there is the mere following of orders. Our time in Ireland certainly fell into the latter category. It is worrying how easy it can be to do as you’re told, to kill those you are ordered to kill and barely question the morality of it. I don’t think any of us were bad people … We were just simple men who had found ourselves in the business of violence. Some of us – like Kronos – were naturally good at it, some of us – like me – worked hard at it and stayed alive.
At the end of every day we would sit around a campfire, consider ourselves lucky to be alive, and hope that the next day would see us able to say the same.
Kronos returned to a tragedy that altered him – he was always capable of being cold but not the single-minded hunter that he has become today – and I was lucky to be able to turn my battlefield training into something positive. But then, Kronos would probably say the same.
