Joseph Delaney - The Spook’s nightmare

He made me sit down by the fire and knelt beside me, warming his hands before the flames. ‘Who else is in there besides the witch and your master?’ he asked.

‘My friend, Alice.’

‘Alice? You mean the little witch who survived the testing in the barrel? The sly one who hit me with that rock?’

‘She’s not a witch-’

‘Barrule thought so, and he knew about such things,’ he interrupted.

‘She really isn’t a witch,’ I insisted.

Stanton looked at me long and hard, as if making his mind up about something, and then he said, ‘What’s your name, boy?’

‘Tom Ward.’

‘Well, Tom Ward, my name’s Daniel Stanton, the commander around here – I served Lord Barrule for fifteen years, and sometimes did things I didn’t like on his behalf. Still, a man knows which side his bread’s buttered, and from time to time we all do things we’re not entirely happy with. Not sure being seneschal to a witch appeals to me much though.

‘This is the situation. Barrule didn’t leave an heir. About ten years ago his wife died in childbirth and the baby only lived a few hours after her. So the Parliament, the Tynwald, will decide next week who’ll be appointed to take his place and become leader of the Ruling Council. As I see it, my duty now is to secure that keep for its next master, who’ll be my new employer. That means dealing with that witch one way or another-’

There was a sudden cry of pain from someone by the next fire. Daniel Stanton jumped to his feet. I followed him and saw a man lying on his back close to the flames: he was writhing in pain, his hands at his throat as if he were choking. His face was turning purple. Someone sat him up and tried to help him, lifting a cup of water to his lips. But suddenly the man gave a gasp, shuddered and went limp.

‘He’s dead!’ the cry went up.

I was looking at lots of scared faces. Some of Stanton’s men looked ready to run.

‘The witch did it!’ someone shouted.

‘Aye,’ agreed a second voice, ‘and what if she does it again? Any one of us could be next!’

The yeomen milled about, their faces tense. Stanton was the only one who didn’t look scared. He stood there impassively, his arms folded and head held high.

Five minutes later a yeoman close to us gave a groan, clasped his hands to his throat, then staggered and fell stone dead at our feet. Stanton’s men were now terrified. These were yeomen, soldiers used to facing violent death, but this was not natural. They were beginning to panic.

Stanton held his hand up for calm and addressed his men in a loud clear voice. ‘We’ll do as the witch demands!’ he cried. ‘I’ll go and talk to her myself.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Right, boy, I take it you’d like to put an end to her if you could?’

I nodded.

‘Well, why didn’t you finish her off when you had the chance the other night? I was there and saw what happened.’

I shook my head. ‘Lots of reasons… I couldn’t bring myself to kill her in cold blood.’

‘That’s a hard thing to do,’ he agreed with a nod, ‘and you’re just a boy. But if I get the chance, I won’t hesitate. So we’ll work together on this, agreed?’

‘The first thing is to try and get my master to safety. He’ll work out what to do.’

‘We’ll go and see what the witch has to say,’ Stanton said. ‘We’ll play along with her for a while and wait for an opportunity to present itself.’

Together we went through the gates, into the tower and up the steps to the throne room. Lizzie was waiting for us on the throne, looking imperious. There was no sign of Alice or the Spook.

Daniel Stanton gave her a low bow. ‘I’m at your service, ma’am,’ he told her.

It was exactly the right thing to do; the witch positively glowed. ‘What do they call you?’ she asked.

‘Stanton, ma’am. I was the commander of the Greeba Guard. I served Lord Barrule for almost fifteen years.’

‘Well now, Master Stanton, you’re my seneschal, although you’ll still captain the guard. Get them back to their posts sharpish, and the other servants too – especially the cooks. Tomorrow night there’s going to be a feast in my honour. Which is the largest room in the keep? How many can it hold?’

‘The great hall, ma’am. It’s in the building beside the tower. It can hold nearly two hundred.’

‘Send out invitations, then,’ Lizzie commanded. ‘I want that hall filled. No riff-raff, mind. I want landowners there – rich, important people. Get me the members of the Ruling Council and the Tynwald – as many as possible.’

‘I’ll go and attend to it right away, ma’am,’ Stanton told her.

Lizzie dismissed him. When he’d gone, she stood up and walked down the steps towards me. ‘I will rule this island. Do you doubt me, boy?’ she asked.

I looked at her warily. ‘It all seems to be going to plan,’ I agreed.

‘Even better than you realize,’ Lizzie said with a twist of her lips. ‘And don’t think that I’m not ready to deal with any tricks. Daniel Stanton has a smooth tongue, but I can see through his flattery. After tomorrow night he’ll be too terrified to even contemplate opposing me. And as for you, I’ll keep you alive a little longer – you might just prove useful. But one wrong step and it’s the end of that blood jar – then the Fiend can have you. Do I make myself clear?’

I nodded.

‘Right then, give me your staff. You won’t be needing it any more.’

I tried to resist, but the compulsion was still strong, and I found myself laying it at her feet. I knew she wouldn’t want to touch it. Witches hated the feel of rowan wood.

‘Now get out of my sight,’ she commanded, ‘but don’t leave the keep unless I tell you, and stay away from the dungeons. Go near your master and it’ll be the worse for both of you. You’ll sleep in one of the rooms up there,’ she said, pointing to the steps, ‘where I can keep an eye on you.’ Within an hour the keep was a flurry of activity: the guards were back in position and the cooks were preparing for the feast the following night.

There was nothing for it but to go up the stairs and pick one of the bedrooms; I spent the next few hours in the window seat, watching the bustle below in the courtyard while I tried to take stock of the situation and work out the best course of action. Things looked bleak and I was concerned for my master. And where was Alice? Lizzie hadn’t mentioned her absence. Had she been imprisoned in the dungeons too? If so, she’d be beyond the protection of the blood jar.

Things were looking bad. We were like flies trapped in Lizzie’s web and I couldn’t see how to break free. I just had to wait for an opportunity and, when it came, take it despite the risk.

To my relief, just before dark Alice appeared at the open doorway of my room. She was carrying a plate of cold ham, cheese and biscuits.

‘Thought you might like to share some supper with me,’ she said, coming towards me.

‘Where’s the Spook?’ I asked.

‘He’s locked in a dungeon, Tom. Lizzie made me help her carry him down.’

We sat together in the window seat and nibbled at the food. ‘Don’t eat too much,’ Alice said with a smile. ‘Leave some room for the queen’s banquet tomorrow night!’

‘Can Lizzie be serious?’ I asked. ‘What does she hope to achieve?’

‘She’s going to release all the prisoners of Greeba Keep and invite them to the feast – all except Old Gregory, of course. Don’t know what she wants to do that for. What’s her game, Tom?’

‘Hard to say why she’d release the prisoners, but if she really means to rule this island, I’d guess she’ll be out to impress and terrify her guests tomorrow – show them that resistance is futile. But we’ve got someone on our side – Daniel Stanton, whom she’s just appointed as her seneschal. He’ll kill her if he gets half a chance. He served Barrule for years, but now his loyalty is to his next master. The Tynwald will probably appoint somebody next week. But what about Mr Gregory – she’s not going to feed him to the buggane, is she?’