The Devil and the Dark Water

59

Sara didn’t have to wait for the knocking to know that Arent was coming down the corridor. His stumbling steps reverberated through the wood, falling heavily enough to be heard over the harp she was playing for Lia, Dorothea, Creesjie and Isabel.

Opening the door, she saw him carrying a heavy sack over his shoulder, every one of his long labours these last days showing. Blood trickled down his forehead and from the slash she’d stitched up on his forearm. His wrists were rubbed raw. He was soaked through with stinking bilge water, his face so weary she couldn’t imagine how he’d dragged himself up here.

The other women joined her in the corridor, still holding the wine they’d been drinking.

Arriving in front of them, Arent dropped the sack on the floor.

‘Sammy was right about Vos,’ he said hoarsely.

‘He was a thief?’ asked Sara.

‘Yes.’

‘Is this The Folly?’ asked Creesjie, eyeing the sack.

‘No,’ said Arent. ‘Sammy was wrong about that part. Vos didn’t steal it. He stole this instead.’ Arent kicked the bag over, spilling silver plates and chalices, tiaras and diamonds, gold chains and beautiful jewellery.

Creesjie stared at the jewels sparkling by her feet.

‘He told me he was coming into wealth,’ she said, kneeling down to sift through the stones covetously. ‘This must have been what he meant.’

‘This is a fortune,’ said Sara, astonished. She peered at Arent. There was a sickly sheen to his skin, and his eyes were unfocused. ‘Where did Vos get all this?’

‘The leper killed him before he could say.’

‘The leper? You saw the leper?’

‘It saved my life,’ said Arent, resting his weight against the wall. ‘It was going to kill me, but then it seemed to sense my father’s rosary on me. It stole it and left me to wriggle my way out of the ropes.’

‘Vos is dead?’ said Creesjie, momentarily stricken. ‘Oh, that fool!’

While Lia consoled her, Sara placed a hand against Arent’s chest. She could feel his fever through the thin shirt.

‘You need a bed, Arent. You’re burning up,’ she said.

‘Some of these pieces are older than me,’ said Dorothea, who was gleefully piling ring after ring on to her fingers. ‘These suit me, don’t you think?’

She held her adorned hand out for Sara to admire.

‘Wait,’ said Sara, tugging one of the rings off Dorothea’s finger. ‘I recognise this crest. My father made me memorise reams of pageantry when I was a girl. Every coat of arms, every family name, every piece of genealogy. This is the crest of the Dijksma family.’

‘Hector Dijksma was one of the people possessed by Old Tom,’ replied Creesjie, surprised. ‘He was on that list I stole from Jan’s cabin.’

‘Yes, I remember reading about him in the daemonologica,’ said Sara, struggling to recall the exact passage.

‘Dijksma was the second son of a wealthy trading family in the Provinces,’ supplied Isabel. ‘Sander made me study the daemonologica until I could recite every page. Dijksma was possessed by Old Tom in 1609, and it used him to perform dark rituals in the family home. Maids had been going missing from nearby villages for months, and Pieter discovered they’d all been summoned up to the house. He went to free them, but they’d been butchered. He battled Old Tom and managed to exorcise it from Hector, who fled the Provinces before a mob could build him a pyre.’

‘Did the daemonologica ever say what became of him?’

‘No,’ said Isabel. ‘But if this is Hector Dijksma’s treasure, perhaps Vos was actually Hector? Once his family name was ruined, maybe he fled with what was left of his family’s wealth.’

‘Or Vos was Old Tom,’ speculated Creesjie. ‘Could that have been it?’

‘I caught him carving its mark on to the crates,’ supplied Arent. The others could barely understand him. His words were running together. ‘But he denied being our devil. He said fear was a great cover for a crime.’

‘Come with me, Arent,’ said Sara, worried. ‘We need to get you to your berth.’

‘I’m going to see Sammy first. Can somebody tell my uncle about Vos? Let him believe Vos stole The Folly. I don’t want another innocent person getting flogged.’

As he staggered off, Sara ran after him. He was having to balance against the wall to stay upright.

‘Will you be okay?’ she asked.

He laughed grimly. ‘It’s been a long day and a lot of people have tried to kill me.’ He considered it. ‘Vos may, or may not, have been Old Tom, a demon which may, or may not, exist. If it does exist, it was summoned by my uncle – a man I loved once, but who now seems to be a vindictive, callous, murdering bastard. Vos has treasure stolen from a family Old Tom destroyed nearly thirty years ago; my newest friend butchered an island full of people; and we’re a solitary unholy miracle away from everybody being slaughtered, according to the prophecies of a murdered predikant. Worst of all, the only man who could hammer a beam to this mess is locked away in the dark under false accusation from my grandfather, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help him.’

With that, he collapsed.