'In my youth, I was a good man,' I began. 'But I spent money too free, and enjoyed wagers too much. I was happy married and very much in love. My career as an officer was promising-'
'What does this have to do with me!' she protested.
'Allow me to continue... My fate changed dramatically during the war against Napoleon. In Spain I was taken prisioner for several months. My platoon had be wipped out, and I was presumed dead. At the time I owed a great deal of money, most of it to Thornton. In my absence he seized all of my land and property to cover my debt.'
'My husband?'
'Aye. He also tied to seduce my wife. I have been informed that my wife never believed that I was dead. She loved me still, and despiced Thornton.... It was not enough for him to take a man's property, he wanted my love also. when she refused, he murdered her. That was the sort of man he was. Nothing could be proved in court. As you know, Thorton was a powerful man with some influence. I knew nothing of this untill long after I had escaped from that hell of a jail. There was nothing I could do about it untill after the war. As soon as I returned to England, Jacques and I swore revenge. we would take everything from Thornton. That is why to are my prisioner. Revenge... Perhaps justice.'
Then I noticed that the lady was crying, I did not know why... Her hopelessness or mine?
'I shall get some more food for us,' said I, and walked away.
Jauques was sat on the stairs. A candle beside him, and his sword across his lap.
'Where are you going?'he asked, a sly smile across his face.
'Upsairs, to get food.'
'You don't need food, there is plently of wine down in the cellar.'
'Today I do not care for wine, I require food for the lady and I.'
'You ought to stay down in the cellar where you belong.'
'Out of my way,' I growled.
'I shall not let you pass.'
He stood and held his sword on guard.
I drew my sword and adopted a fighting stance.
He lunged at me, but I dodged his blade. I aimed for his exposed right led as he was off guard, but missed. He stepped to one side and I advanced.
We swung for each other at the same moment. our swords locked in the air- then my sword passed through his, and clean through his body.
My sword passed through him like a bird flying through mist.
He laughed at me.
There are times in the lives of men when we live like beasts, compelled ever forward by our base desired and instincts. There are times when we live like madmen, and our reason abandons us- we dance in the dark like lunatics. There are times when we live without the light of reason...
And there are times when we regain that guilding light.
I walked directly through Jacques, like he was no more than fog.
A fog in my mind.
'You shall never be rid of me,' he called out from behind me.
The new day I was restless.
My gold hoarde no longer pleased me, and all the wine tasted sour.
I roamed from cell to cell, lost in thought. Morbid curiousity drove me towards the oldest and most horrid part of the cellars, but when ever I came close to the final door I retreated.
I remembered my lost Annebell. It had been 30 years since we had married, and 4 since she had died. 26 years which had gone so fast, and 4 which had been so terrably long.
I remembered the first time that we had meet, 32 years ago. I was hunting with my dogs and squire and she was walking with her sisters. It was spring, and the forest was filled with wind flowers. She looked so at home in the forest, like some Wood Nymphe or elven lady.
I remembered the way her eyes used to shine, like two tiny stars.
For a moment I thought I saw her before me. A vision or some fit of madness. But it was no Annabell, it was my prisioner.
She was clearly startled. She almost jumped, then retreated to a corner.
'Don't be afraid,'said I. 'I will not hurt you.'
'How can you say that when you have hurt me so much already?'
It was a fair question.
She grew more confident when she saw that I made no advance or sign of agression.
'I demand an explanation for your cruel mistreatment,' she said.
'Then you shall have one...'
It was, I believe, soon after that conversation that I had the idiot idea of counting my money. I was probably drunk, for the wine cellar was a constant temptation.
There was, I recall, a great deal of it, Jacques interupted me before I finished counting it.
'Enough gold for you?' he asked.
'More than he took from me... But the important thing is that 'tis all his gold. All that he had, because he took all from me.'
'So you keep saying. But what of his wife?'
"My prisioner?'
'He took your wife from you, but you have not yet taken his wife... fully. You must take her to bed or kill her, it is the only way to complete our revenge.'
Damn me, because for a moment I was tempted. I thought of her alone in the vaults, her beautiful eyes shinning in the darkness. I remembered holding he as I carried her away from her slaine husband. The softness of her skin, her hair brushing my face. She was pretty, and she was mine...
I have done many bad things in my life. In the service of my country, I killed many men and wounded many more. At times I took satisfaction from the killing. Then I was a Highwayman- a thief. Then a murderer. There were few sins that were new to me.
But I am not a monster.
'Damn you!' I shouted at him. 'Out of my sight, French brute! I'm going to get more wine...'
Then I knew: sooner or later, I must kill Jaques.
She looked at me with cold, dead eyes. Disgust and discomfort written, equally clearly, across her pretty face. I put the tray, blankets and clothes beside her. She did not shift from the corner where she sat.
'You are my prisoner,' I told her, 'but now you may leave this cell. You may go any where in the cellars, but you may not leave the cellars.'
She looked up, not at me but at the door behind me.
'You will find clean water beyond the wine cellar,' I continued. 'But I recommend that you venture no further, especially not down the old tunnel.'
She ignored me. I turned to leave.
'Madman,' she hissed.
'Pardon?' I asked.
'Madman! ... You are truly mad. You killed my husband... enslaved me! ... I hear you talking to yourself. Madness!'
'I don't talk to myself.'
'Then who do you talk to?' she demanded.
'Jacques.'
'And who is Jacques?'
'We meet in France. He is my enemy.'
Again, I turned to leave.
'What do you want of me?' for the first time, her voice betrayed sadness.
'You are my prisoner. I need nothing else from you.'
It was then, perhaps caused by a draft from the slammed door, that my candle went out. In the darkness I searched my pockets for my tinder box. I stumbled, and dropped the stub of a candle which I held. I knew I had a second candle and a tinder box some where, but they eluded me.
'Lost some thing?' Jacques hissed in my ear.
'My light,' I replied.
This amused him.
I found my tinder box, but I could not find a candle.
'What did you think of the playroom?' he asked.
'What?'
'The Dungeon... maybe you could take your girlfriend there.'
'No.'
I found the stub of my first candle on the ground, and opened the tinderbox.
'You could have such fun with the...' he continued.
A spark. A tiny fire. Then the candle was lit.
Jacques was no where to be seen.
Hastily, I located the new candle and lit it, then discarded the stub.
On my way to the wine cellar I decided to give the girl free rein of the cellars. But first I would find clothes, bedding and more food for her.
Jacques was sat on the steps again.
'Where are you going?' he asked.
'Getting provisions.'
'Presents for you girlfriend?'
'Be gone!'
I strode past him.
First I located her bedroom, and found a change of clothes and two blankets for her. As an after thought, I located a blanket for myself. I took these things down to the cellar, then went up to the kitchen.
Suddenly I realised how hungry I was. I ate cold meat and bread. Then I selected fruit, bread, cheese and meat for her, and put them on a tray with water as before. On my way back down, I locked the door firmly.
At that point it occurred to me that I ought to explore the cellars more thoroughly, for I had gone no further than the wine cellar and the two cells.
Like the manor above, the subterranean regions of the building had undergone many expansions and moderations. The vaults were far vaster than I had originally imagined. A tunnel from the wine cellar led to a large cell which seemed older that the cells I had seen earlier. The stone work was simpler, and it was yet more dank and decayed.
From the Large Cell there were two doors and a trap door. The first door led to a small room with one barred window at the top, an old well and access to a small pit that seemed designed for disposing of waste. Perhaps it was an ancient wash room for servants, or an emergence source of water in the event of a siege- I shall never know. The trap door led to an abandoned wine cellar, flooded with a few inches of water and filled with a rancid stench of decay- a combination of sour wine and dead rats. The second door took a little force to open and led down a tunnel even more ancient than the last.
They led steadily down. By the light of my candle I saw that the walls had been cut into solid rock and were covered in a variety of moss and mould. The occasional rat ran across my path. At the end of the tunnel was a roughly cut, rectangular vault, about eight feet wide, 10 feet long , but over 20 feet high . Ahead of me were the rotted remains of a wooden spiral staircase which once led to a heavily locked, rust covered, iron door. To the left and the right were decaying wooden doors. A little light came came from a tiny, barred window at the top, near the iron door. Bats hung sleeping from the stumps of the ruins stairs.
The left door led to a small room that looked like an ancient parlour.
Battle hardened old soldier that I am, the room on the right still shocked me. I had (briefly, thank God) seen similar rooms in Spain. In the middle was a large, mouldy table shattered with tools, although they were half rusted away, the cruel applications of those tools were still apparent. Other instruments of that horrible trade were about the room; a brazier in one corner, hooks, chains and manacles on the walls. One wall ended in bars, the doors to two tiny cells. Cages really.
There was a trap door on the floor which I choose not to open.
I turned my back on that terrible place. With the foul smell of dust and bones still in my nostrils, I strode up the tunnel. Back in the Large Cell I slammed the door to the tunnel behind me.
I must have been truly insane at that point, for it was then that I decided to live permanently down in the vaults.
