Paul Doherty: A haunt of murder

‘But what about Goodman Winthrop? He was collected by those terrors.’

‘He made his choice.’

‘Will he travel towards God?’

‘God will always call him, but if Goodman Winthrop lives his death like he lived his life, he will for all eternity refuse to hear the call and travel away from God, into his own self, his own love of wickedness. That’s why he was taken by the demons. They did not come from Hell, Beatrice, they came from within himself.’

‘And the poor beggar man?’

‘Ah.’ Antony smiled. ‘The Church teaches of Heaven and Hell and I have described both to you. The Church also teaches Purgatory where the soul is undecided. No, no.’ He shook his head. ‘I put that wrongly, the soul is not yet prepared for the journey.’

‘But that’s like me.’

‘No, your soul is ready but your will wants to delay because you have unfinished business which, I suspect, is connected with Master Ralph. That poor beggar man was collected by the wraiths of his mind and will, the sins and impurities he accummulated during life, for he was a beggar man by choice rather than by misfortune.’

‘And Elizabeth Lockyer?’

‘Ah. She was visited by the seraphims, beings of light. Elizabeth lived a good life, she died with her face towards God and God smiled on her. She wished to travel on and all the good she did in life has taken her forward.’

‘Seraphims? Wraiths? Demons? What about those others? Malkyn the torturer, Lady Johanna de Mandeville, the poor unfortunate who haunts the crossroads?’

‘They do not wish to travel on,’ Antony explained. ‘They are still locked in the pain and misery of their lives. Lady Johanna died a miserable death. God wishes to comfort her but she will not respond. Etheldreda, the young woman at the crossroads, is the same. She’s no sinner, just an unfortunate young woman who died when her wits were turned.’

‘And Malkyn the torturer?’

‘A cruel man in life, Beatrice. He did repent before he died, he was shriven by a priest here in the castle, but he does not wish to purge himself. He will stay here until he does.’

‘And those shapes and shades, spectres and ghouls?’ Beatrice asked. ‘That terrible knight, those men being hanged in the courtyard? And the battle?’

‘They are different. They are nothing but shadows of former beings. They are like tapestries which show a scene from the past.’ He sensed Beatrice’s puzzlement. ‘Have you ever been into a room, Beatrice, after there has been feasting and revelry? It’s very quiet but if you stand and listen you can almost hear the laughter, the music, the dancing which occurred there.’

Beatrice nodded. ‘But what am I to do?’

‘Do you want to leave?’ Antony asked quietly.

‘I want to marry Ralph. I want justice for my death.’

‘But that’s impossible,’ Antony murmured.

Beatrice sprang to her feet. ‘The others didn’t say that!’

‘What others, Beatrice? Clothilde and Crispin?’

‘Yes.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘I am flouncing away in a temper but what good will that do? They did offer to help.’

‘And that’s why I’m here.’ Antony spoke sharply. ‘Of all the beings you’ve met, Beatrice, those two are the most dangerous!’

He spoke so vehemently, Beatrice sat down again. ‘Who are they?’

‘They are one and the same person,’ Antony replied. ‘Succubus and Incubus.’

‘What?’

‘They are the true devils,’ Antony warned.

‘But they were so beautiful, so helpful.’

‘Haven’t you heard the old phrase, Beatrice, “The Devil can appear as an angel of light”?’ He grasped her hands. ‘When Goodman Winthrop died, you saw demons, but they came from within. They were of his own making, his lusts, his avarice and desire for power.’

‘Did he kill that young girl?’ Beatrice asked. ‘Phoebe? Where is she and why can’t I see her spirit?’

Antony smiled. ‘Phoebe has gone on; her death cannot be laid at Goodman Winthrop’s door. In life, as in death, nothing is what it seems. Oh, listen to me, Beatrice! There is a difference between the demons we create and those devils, those fallen angels who constantly rage against the light, who would, if they could, scale the walls of Heaven and burn them to the ground.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Beatrice withdrew her hands, yet she could tell from Antony’s eyes that he was deeply worried.

‘What do you expect devils to be like, Beatrice? Little men with forked tails and horns? Creatures from some mummers’ play?’ he scoffed. ‘They are nothing but lurid paintings. Devils are like angels, Beatrice, a mixture of pure light, energy, intelligence and will. They can take on many forms and guises.’

‘But I am dead. Holy Mother Church teaches that after death comes judgement.’ She shook her head. ‘Why should they be interested in my soul now?’

‘Oh, they are, Beatrice. Very, very interested, especially in one like you. You have not yet travelled on. You are capable of free choice. You are here because you want to be. You have not journeyed on because you have refused to. In a way, you are no different from Malkyn or Lady Johanna de Mandeville, so the angels of Hell are interested in you, deeply interested. If they can, they will turn your will so your face no longer looks towards God.’

‘Is that what is happening to Malkyn and the rest?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it is. That’s what Satan and all his armies want. A shattering of harmony, the breakdown of peace, misery and tribulation. The capture of souls.’

‘But if I have a will, why can’t I…’

‘Intervene? Cross to the other side? You could.’

‘I can.’ Beatrice smiled.

‘You have intellect, you have will,’ Antony went on cautiously. ‘And that’s the supreme temptation.’

‘You mean, if I obey Crispin and Clothilde?’

‘They will give you that power for a price.’

‘And can’t the beings of light?’

‘They can, Beatrice, but it has to be earned.’

A silver disc came between them and moved away.

‘What is that?’ Beatrice asked.

Antony did not answer.

‘Are Crispin and Clothilde my guardian devils?’ Beatrice asked.

‘They are one and the same,’ Antony repeated. ‘Succubus and Incubus, the male and female face of a fallen angel. They can appear in many forms, many guises. They can laugh and tease, they can rage and plot.’

Beatrice stared up at the sky. It was blue but tinged with that strange bronze coppery light. Shapes and shades were moving across like a flock of geese, dark and forbidding.

‘What are they?’

‘The Devil’s huntsmen.’ Antony narrowed his eyes. ‘They streak across the world seeking their quarry. And to answer your question, Beatrice, yes, Crispin and Clothilde are your guardian devil.’

‘And where is my guardian angel?’

‘The silver disc,’ he replied. ‘I can only tell you so much.’ His voice grew weaker. ‘In the end, Beatrice, you must make your own choices. I can help if you wish but in the end only you can decide.’ He held up three fingers. ‘Intellect, love and will. You can force anyone to do anything but you cannot force someone to love. God’s love is eternal, it is like that of a loving mother. God wants that love returned, freely, without hindrance.’ Antony got to his feet and helped her up. ‘He loves you, Beatrice, but you have to decide. Remember the words of scripture: “You cannot have two masters.’”

‘But I haven’t seen God. I am here by myself.’

‘No, you are not, Beatrice. You are not alone. And you do see God. You see Him in the faces of those around you.’ He held both her hands and drew her close.

Beatrice felt strange; she was out on this bronze-coloured heath, the castle behind her, those eerie shapes scurrying across the sky above her. She only wished Ralph was here, not this strange young man. If Ralph were here she could travel on. If Ralph died, they’d be together. As that strange thought began to turn and twist, she saw the sad look in Antony’s eyes.