He checked every inch of the room, then said, 'I want you to remain in here, Meggie. I must check the rest of the inn.'
Meggie walked to the fireplace and lifted a poker from beside the mantel. It was big and soot-covered. 'No,' she said. 'Let's go. The Hangman's Noose. I don't like the sound of that name. Who owns it?'
'Bernard Leach.' He said nothing more until they were across the hall and through the open door of the taproom. It was perfectly dark and smelled of years upon years of ale. 'Keep your voice down. Bernard is a Cornishman I've known all my life. We need a light, I can't see a damned thing. Stay put. I'm going to get the candle.'
He was back in a moment, the candlelight shining upward, setting his face in relief, making him look like the devil himself.
'I wouldn't have married you if it were dark like this and you were holding a candle. You look evil, Thomas.'
'You hold it then,' he said, and then laughed low when he saw her pale face lighted by the candle flame. 'You have the look of a succubus.'
'Not a good thing,' Meggie said and shuddered even as she walked toward the long bar and raised the candle to look behind it. 'If I have a child, he or she will be a demon or a witch. Did you know that Merlin was supposedly spawned by an incubus? That's a male succubus.'
'No, I didn't know that,' he said.
'Where could everyone have gone? Perhaps there was an accident in the village.'
'It's possible. St. Agnes village is still a half mile to the west. Bernard's grandfather built the inn in an oak forest because he liked his privacy.'
They went through the entire downstairs, ending up in the small cramped kitchen. That was where they found Bernard Leach lying unconscious in the middle of a pile of flour, blood from his head seeping into the white flour.
Thomas went down beside him and felt for a pulse in his neck. 'Bernard, wake up. Dammit, man, come on, wake up now!'
The man, older, grizzled gray hair, thin as a broom handle, a huge white apron wrapped around his middle, moaned, then opened his eyes. 'Oh God, be it you, Thomas?'
'Aye, you old buzzard. You just gave me a mighty scare. Where is everyone? What the hell has happened?'
Bernard clutched at Thomas's shirt. 'Oh my lord, Thomas, it was the Grakers. You know about the Grakers, don't you?'
'I think I've heard the name but now, I don't know. Who are the Grakers?'
'Not who, Thomas. They're not people. They're not of this world. They come and they destroy and then they leave again.'
'All right, what are the Grakers? Where are they?'
'They're like your English pixies, they live under rocks and in caves and only come out at night. But they're not like pixies, they're vicious, attacking if they're displeased with you.'
'You're telling me that some sort of evil pixie came to your inn, took you in dislike, and smashed you on the head?'
'It weren't quite that simple,' Bernard said, and struggled to sit up. He moaned, gently rubbed his head.
Meggie said, 'Let me get you some water, sir. How do you feel?'
'Is that a girl I hear? She shouldn't be here, Thomas. God only knows what the Grakers left upstairs. They scared off all the guests, but I have this very bad feeling that they did something she's not going to want to see. Aye, they're mightily displeased with me. I kilt one of them. It was an accident, I swear it, but they don't believe me. They came for their revenge.'
Thomas shook his head. 'First things first.' Thomas took a wet cloth from Meggie, motioned for her to hold the candle closer, and examined the wound. 'It isn't bad, just a single blow. After I take care of you, Bernard, I'll go upstairs and see if there's anyone else here. Where's Marie?'
'Marie?' Bernard frowned. 'Your wife, Bernard.'
'Oh my lord, I'm in a bad way here, my boy. Marie-I don't know, I just don't know. What if the Grakers hurt her, Thomas?'
'I will go search the rest of the inn. You will stay here and rest.'
'But who is this girl?'
'This is my wife.'
'Ah, your wife. Ain't she a pretty one? Look at all the lovely hair, can't make up its mind what color it wants to be.'
'That's enough, Bernard. Your head should hurt too much for you to flirt with her. All right, I'm going to help you to that chair and you will rest until I see what's going on here. Do you have a lantern?'
Once the lantern was lit, Thomas said, 'Meggie, you will remain with Bernard to, er, protect him.'
'No, he's not my husband. His head isn't bleeding anymore. Mr. Leach, you don't move. Thomas and I will find your wife. Don't worry. Let's go, Thomas.'
He could tie her down, he supposed, then just shrugged, raised the lantern high, and left the kitchen, Meggie on his heels.
Thirty minutes later, after looking into every bedchamber on the second floor, they went to the attic rooms where the servants stayed. There were no servants anywhere.
But they found Marie Leach hanging by the neck from a thick rope wrapped and knotted about a high beam in the far attic room. Meggie didn't pause, just ran to the woman and lifted her up, trying to relieve the pressure of the rope around her neck. 'Hurry, Thomas, hurry. I can't hold on much longer.'
'I'm sorry, Meggie. It's too late. She's dead.'
She was holding a dead woman. Meggie gulped, slowly released her, and stepped back. She didn't want to look, didn't want to accept that she was seeing a dead woman, and such a horrible way to die, but she forced herself. She wouldn't faint, she wouldn't moan and groan, she wouldn't be useless.
She might have weaved a bit, but managed to say in a fairly firm voice, 'Tell me what to do, Thomas.'
'Please hold her up again, Meggie. I need to get the rope off her.'
Thomas managed to untie the rope around her neck. 'The knot wasn't well tied,' he said as he eased Marie down onto the single narrow cot in the small bedchamber. He paused a moment, lightly touched his fingers to the dead woman's cheek, then drew the cover over her. He was silent for a moment.
'You knew her. Well.'
Thomas raised his head. 'Yes, this is Bernard's wife, Marie. I've known her since I was a small boy. This shouldn't have happened, Meggie. Now, there's nothing more we can do for her. Let's go downstairs. I have to tell Bernard, and then we must fetch a magistrate.'
Chapter 18
WAS NEARLY midnight when the housekeeper led Thomas and Meggie into a newly aired bedchamber at Squire Billings's house at the head of Morgan Cove, just south of St. Agnes Head, a fine property some three miles distant from The Hangman's Noose.
Once the housekeeper had left them, Thomas said, 'Go to bed, Meggie. Squire Billings and I must speak about this further.'
She nodded, saying not a word. She'd not said a word, but she'd hurt and cried deep inside and let the shock burrow deeper than the tears, and now she was exhausted. Within five minutes she was stretched out on her back beneath a marvelous goose-down comforter.
Thomas came into the bedchamber to see that she was all right before going back down to Squire Billings's library. He held the candle high and looked down at his wife. She was already asleep, her hair spread out about her head on the pristine white pillowcase. She looked so very young, untouched, but that wasn't true. And now she was no longer innocent-she'd seen a woman hanging by the neck.
