Together they stepped to the doors of the stable. The storm was gone, and the drifting clouds were riven with ONCE UPON A SPRING MORN / 211
great swaths of starry sky, and a full moon looked down through the rifts and shone upon the abandoned estate.
“Though the steps come closer, I see nought,” said Roel.
“Neither do-”
Glass shattered and screams rent the air, and running footsteps clattered. Something or someone roared and shouted in triumph, and more glass crashed, and wood splintered, and shrieks ripped out from fear-filled throats and split the night.
But nothing and no one could be seen tearing at the manor, though the moon shone brightly.
Again came a triumphant roar, and a crunching.
“Lokar,” spat Celeste. “I know the voice.”
“But Lokar is dead. You slew him.”
“Yes, and of that I am glad.”
“Are you saying that his ghost, his spirit, has come calling upon the ghosts of those who dwelled here?” Even as the crashing of glass and the screams yet sounded, Celeste gazed through the moonlight at the once-stately manor, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Non, Roel, not spirits, not ghosts. It is the house, my love. It is the house itself remembering.” They spent the rest of the night holding one another, each taking turns dozing.
And the next morn they saddled and laded the horses and rode away from a place where both gentle and terrible memories yet clung.
26
Le Bastion
Through the forest they rode, the leaves adrip with rainwater from yester eve’s storm. The air smelled fresh and clean, as if the world had been washed and now sparkled anew. The azure dome of a cloudless sky arched above, and birds sang and small creatures scampered, and a deer and fawn broke from cover and bounded away. In spite of the bright morn, both Roel and Celeste rode in glum silence, their thoughts dwelling upon the occurrences in the night.
Finally Celeste sighed and said, “That poor house-
perhaps cursed forever to recall a terrible eve.” Roel nodded but said nought.
After a moment, Celeste added, “Yet if someone lived therein, the manor might store new memories to displace the old.” As if in deep thought, again Roel nodded without speaking.
They rode in silence awhile, and then Roel asked,
“Do you think most so-called haunted houses are simply ones who remember a tragedy?”
“No ghosts, no spirits, you mean?”
“Oui. Just events recalled.”
Celeste shook her head. “I think spirits do roam abroad, as well as remain attached to a place. Yet I also believe we witnessed memories long held by that troubled dwelling; hence some so-called hauntings are of that ilk.”
“And you think with new occupants those memories would be displaced?”
“Oui. Or at least I believe there is a possibility that will happen. For I would not like to think someone moving in would have that terrible event visited upon them every night.”
Roel nodded and said, “Perhaps as long as the scars remain, so will the memory.”
Celeste looked at him. “Your meaning?”
“Well, once the doors are rehung and the windows replaced and the manor repainted and swept and cleaned and set aright, then the vestiges of that night will be gone from the dwelling. In my own case I have scars, and when I look upon them, I am put in mind of deeds done in battle. Too, my companions and I-as well as many others-have scars of the mind, and they recall dread deeds done as well. Were these scars to vanish, both those in mind and form, then mayhap I would not recall those dire events, or at least not as vividly.”
“But, Roel, would not that require taking away some memories entirely?”
“Oui, it would, and that is my point, for perhaps if the scars visited upon that manor were wholly removed-
repairs made, painting done, and a loving family settled in-then gone would be the residual leftovers of that terrible eve.”
“I suppose, but I think we’ll never know,” said Celeste.
And onward they rode.
As they passed through the woodland, they came upon a wide swath of destruction: trees downed and cast aside, as if something huge had passed this way, leaving wrack in its wake. Starwise to sunwise through the forest it ran for as far as the eye could see. Roel dismounted and looked for sign, yet he found no track to tell him what had made this waste.
Roel gestured at the run. “It’s as if someone had started a road through the woods, but then abandoned the effort. Yet I think it not neglected, for if that were true, then weeds would have sprung up and saplings would be agrowing.”
Celeste glanced about. “The uprooted trees have long been lying to the side; hence I deem this was done some time in the past, yet the way is still being used by something or someone.”
“I agree,” said Roel as he remounted. “Nevertheless, let us follow this windrow to make our way through the forest, for it seems to be going in our direction and will ease the ride.”
Celeste strung her bow, adding, “As long as whatever uses it does not dispute our passage.” On they rode, following the wide path, and the sun climbed up the sky and across and down, and nothing and no one challenged them. As sunset approached, Roel and Celeste moved well off the swath, where they made camp in a small glade.
The next morn, once more they took to the path, and with the sun mounting the sky, they followed the way, pausing now and again to feed and water the horses.
As the noontide wheeled past, they emerged from the woodland, and came unto derelict fields where crofters had once cared for the land.
And they passed abandoned farmhouses, some in nought but ruins, and Celeste gritted her teeth and said,
“Lokar. It was Lokar who made the windrow through the forest. He used it as a way to fetch his dreadful fare.”
Roel looked back toward the woodland. “Oui. I think you are right, cherie.”
On they went, and more abandoned farms they passed. But in midafternoon they came to a roadway, and it led them across the fallow land to finally come in among tended fields. Along this way they went, and after some while and in the distance ahead they saw crofters driving herds and wagons in through the gates of a modest town, the settlement walled all ’round with a high palisade.
“Protection against Lokar,” said Roel. “Mayhap against other enemy as well.”
On they rode, and as they drew closer, Roel said,
“Look! Along the wall they have huge ballistas.”
“Ballistas?”
“Great, heavy bows. And these are arrow casters, or perhaps instead I should say spear casters.”
“More protection against Ogres,” said Celeste.
Roel nodded and said, “Those and other foes. But come, Celeste, let us pick up the pace. If Lokar be the only one who raids these environs, we have good tidings for them. Besides, the ville looks prosperous, and I have a taste for a good hot meal and a frothy mug of ale.”
Celeste laughed and said, “Ah, men, always thinking of their stomachs.”
“Only our stomachs?”
Again Celeste laughed. “Ah, not always, for they would have other pleasures to sate their needs. For me I would have a hot bath as well as a good meal and a fine goblet of wine. -Oh, and a soft bed to sleep in, for last eve I swear I slept on a rock the size of a boulder-
grinding into my back it was-yet this morn when I found the stony culprit, it was no larger than a pea.” Roel broke into guffaws and managed to say, “Ah, the true test of a princess, eh?” And then he spurred forward into a trot, Celeste following, the princess laughing as well.
Closer they drew, and closer, and now they could see the very tall logs of the high palisade were sharpened to wicked points. Roel also pointed out that some of the wagons among the train moving toward the town were equipped with ballistas to guard the crofters and their herds.
Celeste and Roel reached the gates just as the last of the herds were being driven through. And as they waited for sheep to flock in, followed by a gaggle of geese, a guardsman came and, raising his voice above the bleating of lambs and honking of fowl, asked Roel, “Your names and your business here in Le Bastion?”