Old Sins Long Shadows (32 page)

The snow had caught everyone by surprise. Within an hour of the first flakes falling from the sky the village of St.Wenna was in chaos. Sited on the side of a hill, the granite cottages hugged narrow roads that threaded their way down its sloping gradient. A combination of snow and ice soon made the road treacherous and local inhabitants knew not to venture into the village by horse in such weather. The snow fall, however, had been so quick and heavy that on this occasion horses pulling traps and wagons entering and leaving the village soon found themselves stuck half way up the hill. The build up of traffic and noise, together with fretful horses slipping on the icy road and their drivers shouting for control of their beasts as they vied for space, brought the village women to stand at their gates and watch the mayhem unfolding before their eyes.

Daniel watched the pande
monium from the top of the hill, he shook his head in disbelief at the men’s ineffectual efforts before setting off down the hill to help. On seeing Daniel’s approach the men allowed him to take the lead as they knew he had a way with horses that was rarely seen in others. As expected the horses responded to Daniel’s air of confidence and gentle coaxing more readily than the shouting and slapping they had been receiving up to now. One by one he led the horses to safety while the men pushed the wagons and traps from behind. Within the hour the road had been cleared. No one thanked him and the only signs of gratitude he received were a few curt nods. Daniel expected no more. He knew what the villagers thought of him. The snow continued to fall heavy and as Daniel trudged his way back up the hill towards home, a man fell into step beside him. It was little Billy Bray.

‘
Idiots, the lot of ‘em. There’s always some bugger getting caught out on that road in winter. Not usually that many though!’

‘
It won’t be the last time,’ replied Daniel, pulling his collar up around his neck.

The men walked toget
her in silence for some moments and although Daniel was content not to speak little Billy was not. Billy liked nothing more than to gossip and there was something he wanted to talk about. He could stand it no longer,

‘
Some goings on up at the estate,’ he stated. To his frustration Daniel kept his silence.

‘
Four carriages loaded up to the heavens! Four I tell you! Four!  Seen ‘em with me own eyes.’  He stole a glance at Daniel to gage his reaction but Daniel continued to stare straight ahead. ‘Course it was before the snow started. Peeked my interest it did, seeing ‘em heading out of the estate. Like rats leaving a sinking ship.’ He waited for Daniel to ask more about it and when he didn’t his frustration bubbled over. ‘God damn it boy, aren’t you interested to hear what’s happened with your lady friend?’

The truth of it was Daniel did want to know. He wanted to know so badly it felt more like an addiction
. No sane man should feel the way he felt right now, listening acutely to every word the man said yet trying to appear that he did not care. He hated not being in control of how he felt about the girl but she had made it plain on their last meeting that she preferred someone else. He would not show anyone, least of all little Billy, how badly he wanted to hear about her and how much he hated himself for feeling that way. Not for the first time he said the words he often said to himself.

‘
She means nothing to me.’

Billy bristled.

‘Rubbish!  Remember I saw you with me own eyes. I saw you lying together by the river kissing.’

D
aniel stopped and turned to him.

‘
We made a deal. You were never to mention that to anyone or I would…’

‘
And I haven’t.’ Billy crossed himself, ‘So help me Lord I haven’t, but not ’cos of your threats. She’s a nice maid. Always says hello and passes the time of day. She ain’t stand offish like some.’  Daniel glared at him and continued walking, quickening his step hoping to leave Billy behind. Billy also quickened his step and Daniel realised he wasn’t going to get rid of him quite so easily.

Finally
, he said, ‘So what was going on at Bosvenna?’

Billy smiled,
‘Seems like Lady Brockenshaw has up and left to live with her brother in Falmouth and took most of the staff with her. Only the snooty housekeeper, butler and Mrs Friggens are left behind. Apparently the son is coming home but they don’t think the estate is going to be owned by the Brockenshaw family for much longer.’

‘
You seem to know a lot.’

‘
Well I was planning to deliver some wood and thought I would drive over and arrange it.’

Daniel raised an eyebrow at him.

‘I bet you did and found out all you could at the same time.’

‘
I keep my ear to the ground, there’s no shame in that.’

‘
That is a matter of opinion.’  They trudged on and soon Daniel would reach the lane to his farm and they would part company. Daniel wanted to be alone as he was in no mood for company. Janey had gone and he would not see her again. Falmouth was more than forty miles away and any chance of seeing her, whether by arrangement or accident, was now non existent. Suddenly she was out of his life with no chance to say goodbye or part on good terms. If Billy had not told him he would still not know. He had shared only one kiss with her. One passionate, beautiful kiss where for one moment in time their feelings and intentions met and fitted together to make a whole. Before and after that kiss their coming together had been twisted by arguments, threats and jealousy. Yet he had always felt that their kiss symbolised what they had truly meant to each other and a promise of what could be. What a fool he had been. What a silly romantic dreamer.  She had gone, without a backward glance or a farewell, she had gone. Well she could go to hell for all he cared!

‘
…..and then the snow started and I’ve been worried ever since.’ Billy’s words brought him back to reality.

‘
What did you say?’

‘
The snow started and you know how difficult it is to make head or tail of the moors in the snow,’ said the little man. Daniel was confused.

‘
What are you talking about?’ he asked, ‘You said they left by coach.’

‘
Not the maid. She went off to a new job. Cut across the moors by Curnow downs. Saw her in the distance as I arrived and asked the butler about her.’ Daniel’s steps slowed.

‘
She didn’t go to Falmouth?’ Billy shook his head, ‘If she was walking over Curnow how did you know it was her?  You must have good eyesight.’

Billy tapped his nose,
‘I know it was her,’ he said, ‘She was wearing your coat. The one you gave her after she fell in the river. Stake my life on it.’

‘
But it’s snowing,’ Daniel said stating the obvious.

‘
She probably reached the village and is staying with someone for the night. All the same, when the snow comes it changes everything and many a good man has got lost on the moor in weather like this.’  They reached the entrance to Daniel’s lane, ‘Thought she might have visited you when the snow started.’

Daniel glared at him,
‘So you thought you would find out if I knew any more gossip of the goings on at the estate.’ Billy for once looked ashamed. ‘Well I don’t. She hasn’t called in to see me and I know no more than you told me.’

Billy looked across to the moor
now covered in a thick blanket of snow. There was not a soul in sight.

‘
Well, I’m sure she is fine. She has got to know a few people in the village now. No doubt she’s tucked up nice and cosy by some fireside waiting for the morning,’ said Billy, trying to reassure himself. ‘I’d best be off.’ He thrust his hands in his pocket, nodded farewell and went in the direction of his own house. Daniel watched Little Billy disappear behind a curtain of snow before heading for home himself with Billy’s tale playing around inside his head.

He tried in vain to forget about what Billy had told him. After all he had no idea of the direction Janey had been heading in or where she was now. The light was already fading and he told himself she had probably sought shelter as soon as the snow started to fall. It would be futile to walk the moors in a vain chance of finding her, especially as there was no reason to think she was even lost. However, despite his common sense telling him to forget about her and get some sleep as he had an early start in the morning, he could not. By midnight he was pacing the floor unable to settle. The snow fall, gentle at the start, had turned into a blizzard and finally blown itself out. Noticing for the first time the silence outside Daniel pulled back the curtain and looked out. The grey clouds were now gone leaving a clear, star speckled sky above. Not even knowing for sure if Janey was in any danger, Daniel had wrestled with the idea of looking for her. He leaned against the window frame and looked out at the clear sky. The bright moon shone down on the white carpet of snow at his door. It was a hunter’s moon, brightening the night with its light and it helped Daniel make up his mind. He was done with trying to convince himself she did not need to be rescued. His gut told him she needed him, with no further hesitation he grabbed a coat and an oil lamp and went out to look for her and bring her home.

He had been walking for several hours before he noticed what appeared to be a bent branch sticking out of the snow. His oil lamp had long gone out but dawn was breaking and by chance he saw it in the distance, its smooth curvature catching his attention. On closer inspection it was a leather handle and as Daniel lifted it a woman’s carpet bag, containing a meagre amount of clothing and belongings, broke free from the snow that had covered it. He had no doubt it was Janey’s. Looking around he noticed slight indentations in the snow of footprints long covered by layers of snow which had fallen since they were made. Remembering in which hand she had carried her basket when they met in the village, he realised she must be right handed. Hoping she had carried her carpet bag in her right hand the footprints suggested she had walked northwards. Although faint, he could see the tracks wavered in their direction, hinting at Janey’s confusion, however the tracks also gave him hope. He knew that not far off was the tumbled down building he had found her in with Brockenshaw months ago, if she had found it she may still be alive. If she had not found shelter he feared it would be her dead body he would find, for he knew with a certainty he had not felt before, that she had passed this way and was on the moor somewhere.

The hideous witch cast her spells over her bubbling cauldron, while the flames of hell danced angrily about her. Janey could not move as her limbs were bound tight to a throne of medieval torture. The witch cackled in her face as she forced her to drink the venom of the devil and despite Janey’s screams she felt the creamy fluid spill down her throat, its warmth comforting despite its origin. The flames crackled and spat, warming her cheeks and yet, despite their heat, not burning her as she would expect the flames of hell would do. She looked about her as the images before her danced and twisted, blending as one then fading away before her eyes, only the warmth on her skin remained.

With an effort she opened her eyes to see that there were indeed orange flames dancing at her feet, but they were not the flames of hell that warmed her skin. She found herself sitting before a comforting log fire in a large granite inglenook fireplace and on an iron trivet stood
the cauldron from her dreams, a pan of bubbling stew. With relief she realised she had been having one of her nightmares. She did not recognise her surroundings or the large soft chair she now sat in. The bondage of her dreams was in fact a blanket tucked snugly about her body and an aroma of stew and dumplings was in the air. The floor was made of large slate slabs whilst the ceiling was lined by curved wooden beams formed by the splitting of the wood along its grain. She realised that she was in someone’s house, of which the aromas, furniture and setting were unfamiliar and strange, yet there was someone in the room with her that she did recognise. In the far corner, lit by the light from the fire and an old oil lamp, sat the witch of her dreams darning a sock and watching her.

For some minutes they watched each other in silence, the stabbing o
f the needle and the pulling of the thread the only sound in the room. The woman was old and hunched, with a weather beaten face, a large hook nose and a scowl that showed her suspicion of the new woman in the house. Finally Janey spoke.

‘
Where am I?’ she asked, surprised at the croak in her voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

‘
Daniel Kellow’s ’ouse,’ Janey’s eyes widened showing her surprise, ‘Scared are yea?’ asked the old woman. Janey did not answer but continued to watch as the old woman bit her thread in two with the few brown misshapen teeth she had left. ‘You should be. He’s some mazed with yea,’ she said setting her sewing aside and pushing herself to standing. She was arthritic and hobbled over to the bubbling stew. Giving it a stir and tapping the spoon on the pan’s edge before setting it aside she started to talk to herself in Cornish. The language, rarely used except by a few, was not understood by the younger woman but that did not seem to matter. The old woman seemed to prefer to talk to herself than with the company she had and no further conversation was made between them. Janey grew tired and once more drifted into a deep sleep. For the first time in months her dreams were no longer tormented by nightmares and she slept a deep and peaceful sleep.