Island of Bones

IV.4

Agnes could not say if she slept or woke. She had found enough of a nail coming through the wood to pick apart the rope on her wrists, though when she did, the flood of pain and cramp in her hands had been so bad, she almost wished she had left them tied. Even with them free she could make no impression on the barricade. She had found a piece of slate in the gloom and had tried to drive the new nails back out, but they had only bent over. She pulled at every join and seam, and filled her palms with vicious little splinters; she screamed herself hoarse and heard nothing but faint bird calls and the turnings of the wind in reply. At last she had crawled back down the tunnel to collect her blanket and bottle, and returned with them to the barricade to make her camp there. She wanted nothing more than to drain the water that was left, but when she shook the bottle next to her ear, it sounded like there was little enough. She was hungry, it gnawed at her. So for a little while she let herself have a cry, and let that turn into a sort of sleep and dreaming.

A footstep, now she was awake. She threw herself against the barricade and drummed on it with her fists and shouted. Silence, then a voice.

‘Agnes?’

‘Swithun! You dog! You son of a bitch, you let me out of here, right now! Right this minute! I’m going to pull out your eyeballs and feed them to your pig, you bastard.’

‘Shush now, Agnes. Don’t take on so. You ain’t dead, are you?’

‘Much thanks to you! You let me out!’

‘If you don’t hush up, girl, I’m just going to go away again. Now quiet.’

Agnes bit her lip and for a while everything went silent. She felt herself begin to tremble. The idea that he might have just gone again was more horrible than her anger.

‘Swithun?’ She heard his feet shifting outside, and the sounds of him sitting down. It seemed as if he was leaning against the barricade.

‘It weren’t my idea, Agnes. I never meant you harm, though you’ve never been nice to me.’

She sighed and sat down on the earth floor, leaning against the wooden planks herself. There was light and home and air on the other side, where he was looking and sounding all pitying of himself In front of her only damp and dark. ‘Why should I be? I know you are like your da. Nothing but nasty from you every day I’ve known you. Folks are looking for me, Swithun. They’ll find me, too — then if you think people hated you and yours before. .’

He was quiet a while. ‘They are looking in the wrong place. You normally do your wanderings down into Borrowdale, along that shore — everyone knows that.’ It was true. The thought of her father and friends walking her roads, fearing for her, made her eyes hot. She was working so hard on not crying at the thought that she hardly heard him say, ‘Good that they are. You’d be dead, otherwise.’

‘What’s your meaning, Swithun?’ She heard a rattle; he was picking up pebbles and throwing them at the wall.

‘Me and my da have a thing to do, and when we’re done we are going to be rich. Soon as we have the money we’ll be out of this stinking hole and away. When we’re clear we’ll send word where you are. That was my idea. He just wanted me and Da to kill you dead, and he said if anyone came sniffing round here before it’s done, I’m to hit you over the head with a rock.’

She scrambled up onto her knees and tried to look through the chink between the boards behind her. ‘Who said, Swithun? What you playing at?’

‘Never you mind.’

‘Was it your da you were with? Beating on Casper?’ Silence. ‘Did you kill him?’

The answer came quick. ‘No, no. He’s powerful angry though. But Sturgess is chasing him for killing that German fella, so he’s gone away.’

‘What German?’

Silence. Then, ‘Laker’s been killed. His girl’s at the vicarage. She’s pretty, not as pretty as you though, Agnes.’

‘Was that your work?’

He sounded shocked when he replied. ‘No! I’d never! No business of ours. Maybe Casper did for him. I saw him out walking with the daughter. Maybe he’s going to marry her and go off and be a gentleman.’ He sniggered. ‘Your da said he’s going to that witch woman in Rosthwaite for a finding spell, as Casper’s gone. Though everyone knows she’s half daft. Casper didn’t go before he scared my ma to death though.’

‘That’s no hardship,’ she said bitterly. ‘Your ma’s a bully and coward just like you are, and your dad.’ She heard the noise of him scrambling to his feet again.

‘Don’t be like that, Agnes! Didn’t mean you any harm! What you have to come charging in for anyway? I told you he said to us to stove your head in. It was only because we told him you were Casper’s ’prentice he let you live. Then he said to put you in here and seal it up. Said he might have a use for you. Said we’d be able to send word when we were paid, and I will, Agnes. I promise. I like you.’ His voice had become wheedling and soft.

‘Who?’ Agnes felt a little sick; she’d sensed his eyes follow her enough times, and just the touch of them was enough to make her skin crawl. ‘Who you talking about, Swithun? And why did you say I’m Casper’s apprentice when I’m no such thing.’

‘Not saying, Agnes. Won’t say. He’d do for me.’ She felt his thin weaselly body lean on the wood. ‘Casper’s been standing over your shoulder since you were born. He knows you are a witch at heart. Everyone knows it too ’cept you. You magic men towards you, and curse them if they turn away.’ She heard him shuffle round, and when he spoke again his voice was so close she knew it was only the thickness of the wood between them. ‘When he comes, Agnes, tell him something useful. Tell him where it is. We couldn’t find it at the Black Pig. He’s worried Casper’s given it to someone to keep. Thinks maybe as you’re his apprentice, you’ll know. Tell him something, Agnes. Or he’ll kill you. He needs it. He wants it, then he’ll pay us and be gone again.’ Agnes felt the blood dancing in her brain. ‘I know you haven’t got it.’ His voice became soft. ‘Da let me make sure of that myself, while you were sleeping.’

Agnes tasted her empty stomach in her mouth, gritted her teeth, then turned again and put her back to the gate. ‘I’m hungry, Swithun. Real hungry and my water’s almost gone.’

‘I’m not supposed to give you owt. So that when he comes you’ll be wanting to talk. My da would kill me himself if he knew I was here.’

She swallowed and tried to speak slowly. ‘Maybe you are brave then, Swithun. Just some water and a crumb — I won’t tell. Honest. You’ve brought me something, haven’t you? I know it.’ She waited in the dark, trying to hear him breathe over the sound of her own heart.

‘All right then, where’s your bottle?’

She pulled it to her. ‘Here, you’ll just have to open the barricade a little. I shan’t run.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not that stupid. There’s a little bit comes away here. I’ll open that and you pass it out.’

She heard him scramble up and the sound of a nail being pulled, then a little bit of wood a foot or so long and halfway up the barrier came free and light tumbled in. Still faint though, so the barricade must be set back a fair way from the entrance. There must have been a gap in the old barn door they’d used to block the tunnel, and another plank had been tacked on as a patch. ‘Come on then.’

Half-stupid, she passed up the bottle. His hand grabbed it away from her. There was a moment of silence, then something was tossed through the gap and landed at her side. She didn’t move, then heard the sound of liquid being poured from one vessel to another.

‘Fill it right up, Swithun. And stopper it tight, won’t you? My hands are tied and if I drop it and it spills, I shall go mad with it.’

‘Wisht, will you? I have.’ She heard the top go in. ‘You ready?’

She was. The moment his hand appeared, she grabbed hold of his wrist with both her hands and pulled with all her strength. He yelled and she felt his body slam into the barricade.

‘Let me go, you bitch!’

‘I wasn’t sleeping! Knocking me senseless is the only way you’d touch me, dog.’

It must be hurting him. He was whining and struggling. She carried on pulling down as hard as she could. She aimed the flint she had palmed in one hand and ran it hard as she could down the length of his arm. He screamed like a rabbit in a snare. He gave a vicious wrench back and she stumbled; the arm writhed between her hands and her shoulder slammed against the barricade. She heard the cloth of his shirt rip and her grip fumbled. His other hand scrambled through the gap, she felt him grab a fistful of her hair and he pulled on it hard. Her head was yanked back, making her scream, and she lost her hold. The arm was out of the hole quicker than a snake heads under a rock. She fell to her knees, panting.

‘You bitch! You hurt me! What did you want to do that for?’ She closed her eyes in the darkness. ‘I don’t care if you rot. No one’s going to find you. I’ll never send word now. You’re dead, you little witch.’

Her voice came from somewhere low within her. ‘I’d rather rot than have any cause to thank you, Swithun Fowler, but before I die I’m going to curse you and your da with the worst words I know. You’re as dead as I am. You just don’t know it yet.’

She heard him get to his feet and his sudden gasp. She had scared him. ‘Witch! Agnes Kerrick, all very fine and your daddy with his little farm. All very neat and nice, aren’t you? But you’re just a dirty stinking witch.’ His voice sounded as if he was crying a bit as he finished. Good — let him cry! Then she heard his feet running back out towards the light.

She stayed where she was for a moment, then with a groan began to feel around the floor beside her. Her fingers touched the bread first. She tucked it under an arm, then crawled round again, her fingers shaking and sore, till she found the bottle. Stoppered. Full. She turned her back to the barricade again and tried to calm herself a little before taking her first bite of the bread, but still when she tore off the first mouthful and brought it to her lips her hand was shaking so hard she could hardly place it in her mouth. She had plenty enough to think on now.