Jane Vows Vengeance

“I leave you to it, then,” said Brodie. “Think I’ll see if there’s any more grilled tomatoes to be had.”

Jane and Walter spent another forty-five minutes at the railing as one by one the other seasick guests departed. Finally Walter felt well enough to walk, and Jane led him through the door and into the warmth of the lounge. There they found Lucy, Ben, and Miriam (with Lilith on her lap). They all looked a bit green in the face, and when a particularly large swell lifted the prow of the ship a collective groan rolled across the room.

“Are we almost there?” Lucy asked.

“Another two and a half hours,” Ben informed her.

“I hate Ireland,” Lucy announced. “I hate Wales. And I really, truly hate St. George and his blasted channel.”

They settled into an uneasy silence as the ferry continued toward Ireland. Eventually the seas grew calmer, and although the sailing wasn’t precisely smooth, it was much better than it had been. When she felt fairly certain he could keep something in his stomach, Jane fetched Walter a ginger ale and some biscuits. He ate the biscuits slowly, taking tiny sips of ginger ale between bites, and when he was finished he looked a great deal more alive than he had all morning.

The skies cleared and the sun came out, and when the Isle of Inishmore finally docked at the port in Rosslare the party was in good spirits. Their luggage was loaded onto a waiting tour bus, and then they were on their way to their destination.

As the day’s site had been chosen by Enid, it was she who briefed them on it. She stood at the front of the bus, her sturdy legs planted firmly and a hand gripping the back of the seat on either side of the aisle. Her hair, thanks to the blustery weather at sea and the fact that she had yet to comb it back into submission, stuck out around her head.

“She looks like something out of Macbeth,” Jane murmured to Lucy.

“Although yesterday’s tour was perhaps mildly interesting to those of you who haven’t seen any of the thousands of homes in Britain exactly like the vicarage at Cripple Minton,” Enid began, looking pointedly at Chumsley, who was painstakingly removing the cellophane from a butterscotch candy, “today you will see something utterly unique.”

Crinkle—crinkle-crinkle went the wrapper on the butterscotch.

“Swichninny Castle is a medieval castle,” said Enid. “In that respect it looks very much like most medieval castles.”

Chumsley popped the butterscotch into his mouth and bit down with a loud crunch. “Pardon,” he said loudly. “Didn’t mean to be rude.”

Enid narrowed her eyes. “What distinguishes Swichninny from other castles of its kind is its unusually fine barbican, complete with murder holes and arrow slits, as well as the tallest keep of any castle in Ireland.”

“How tall is it?” Chumsley asked, sucking loudly on the butterscotch.

She glared at him. “I don’t know precisely,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I’m only wondering,” said Chumsley, “because I’ve always been of the impression that at fifty-two meters the donjon of Chateau de Vincennes is the tallest keep.”

“I believe you are correct about the height of the donjon of Chateau de Vincennes,” Enid said. “However, as Chateau de Vincennes is in France, it can hardly have the tallest keep in all of Ireland.”

Chumsley crunched the butterscotch. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I must have misunderstood you.”

“You usually do,” said Enid. “Now as I was saying …”

The rest of her speech was a blur to Jane: moat this and curtain wall that, machicolations and lower baileys and main baileys and hoardings and battered plinths, on and on and on until the words meant absolutely nothing. Jane was far more interested in the back of Suzu’s head. The woman was seated three rows ahead of Walter and Jane, next to Sam Wax. She and Jane had said nothing more than good morning to each other all day, and Jane was going mad wondering if she should attempt to discuss the matter with the woman. Of course there really was nothing to discuss, at least nothing that would in any way portray Jane as anything other than a wanton. She could hardly deny kissing the young man, as she had made such a show of it, and telling the truth was out of the question. She supposed she could claim to have been drunk (which was no better, really) or out of her mind on cold medication (she practiced sniffling, but knew it was hopeless). Ultimately, however, she had to accept that Suzu now had something on her—even if what she thought she knew was much less disturbing than the actual truth—and behave accordingly.

In short, she would have to take pains not to commit any further offense to Suzu’s sensibilities. She had no reason to think the woman would mention what she’d seen to Walter, but she had been deferential to him on that first night and there was no telling what designs she might have on him. Thinking about it, Jane decided that she should be offended at Suzu’s behavior. Flirting with him right in front of me! she thought, attempting to work up a bit of self-righteous indignation. But it was no good. She was just going to have to hope that Suzu kept quiet.

When the bus arrived at Swichninny, Miriam took Lilith for a walk along the moat that encircled the castle while the others clustered around Enid to begin the guided tour. Ben, Lucy, and Jane joined them, as by this point everyone was treating them as if they were part of the group anyway. Jane took Walter’s hand, feeling only slightly guilty that the affection was in part designed to show Suzu that there was nothing fragile about their relationship.

Enid proved to be quite a good guide, explaining in great detail the workings of the portcullis and drawbridge yet managing to nimbly skirt the line between interesting and tedious. She plumbed the depths of her knowledge of medieval stonecutting while describing the construction of the walls, and even entertained them with a bit of scatological trivia when explaining that in the days of the castle’s occupation its inhabitants would have hung some of their garments in the primitive toilets—or garderobes—because the stench kept moths away from the finery.

Because Enid was such a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge on the castle and its charms, Jane was almost, but not quite, saddened when the official tour ended and they were allowed to go exploring on their own. She found it most interesting that the majority of participants headed immediately for the castle’s dungeon, where Enid assured them all manner of cruelties had been committed against prisoners of war. Jane herself, loath to encounter any vengeful or peevish spirits that might still be lingering there, chose instead to climb with Walter the 299 stone steps that led to the top of the castle’s notoriously tall keep.

The view from atop the tower really was spectacular, although Jane wished they were visiting a little later in the year, when the surrounding countryside would no doubt be swathed in emerald splendor instead of looking as if someone had tossed a brown wool blanket over it. Still, the beauty all around them was undeniable. The sky was blue and cloudless, there was no wind, and Jane could easily imagine herself standing there searching the hills for her returning love, who of course would be riding a white stallion, its mighty hooves churning up the grass as it brought her man home to her.

“Look,” Walter said, pointing. “There’s my mother. She looks like a bug from up here.”

“And there goes that fantasy,” Jane said under her breath as her stallion turned into a three-legged Chihuahua and her knight raced off to see what his mother wanted.

They were not alone on top of the keep. Several other people, including Sam, Orsino, and Ryan, were there. Suzu too was up there, taking pictures with what looked to be an original Kodak Brownie camera. Fortunately, the space was quite large, and because the central part was taken up by the rounded covering of the stairwell, it was possible to be on any side of the keep and be invisible to all the other sides. Occasionally Jane and Walter would encounter someone while taking a walk around all four sides of the tower, but never did they feel crowded.

On their second time around they ran into Sam. “Hey,” she said. “This place is something, isn’t it? All it needs is some flying monkeys and a wicked witch.”

Walter laughed. “I’ll get you, my pretty,” he said in a very bad imitation of Margaret Hamilton’s famous character. “And your little dog too.”

This time it was Sam who laughed. Jane, feeling left out, heard herself say, “Maybe the Wizard can give me a soul.”

Walter and Sam looked at her as she realized what she’d said. “I mean a brain,” she said. “Ha ha!”

“Anyway,” Sam said, “I was thinking about going down to take a look at the armory. “Any interest?”

“Sure,” said Walter. “Jane, do you want to come?”

Jane thought for a moment. Although she no longer feared that there were any romantic feelings between