things right. A lot of them still want to eat it.”
I smirked, only half amused.
“Hardly surprising really. We’ve got enough water to drink in the well, but not enough to ensure that the crops and beasts survive until the harvest. Hunger does strange things to people.”
Velvet smiled.
“I’m well aware of that. Now, what do you want for your supper?”
“Is there a choice?”
“Not exactly.”
I chose the simplest, easiest, most likely to be available option.
“What about a corn cake or two with and egg on top?”
“Fine. Only there’s no eggs.”
“No eggs?”
“They haven’t been laying. I think it’s the heat.”
“Not laying? Useless bloody chickens. I need a drink.”
I descended into the tiny cellar and poured myself an ale. I drank it right down in the near total darkness, filled the cup again and brought it back up the ladder with me. Sitting in the corner, I cracked the shutters to let a shaft of evening sunlight in and opened the Ledger to the section on demons. The section seemed longer and more in depth than it had when I’d first looked demons up, but that didn’t surprise me. The Ledger was an unusual book, adding to itself constantly. All Men of Law are issued with a Ledger at graduation. It’s not the kind of thing you would want to fall into the hands of, say, a local priest.
Supper came and went without conversation—I read the Ledger at the table and then took it back to my reading chair. Velvet was very attentive to my ale cup for which I was thankful. However, by the time I’d read all I needed to know, getting to bed was somewhat of a struggle. I vaguely remember hoping my head would be clear by morning.
The Demon’s Club
I awoke in blackness to the sound of insistent but subdued thumping. At first I thought I was having some order of palpitation, brought on by a nightmare. It was almost a relief to realise that the sound was coming from outside my body. Someone was at the front door. Then followed the realisation that people only ever wake you up in the night for bad news or rutting and, as it wasn’t Velvet making the noise, I had to anticipate the unhappier option.
“Get that would you, my sweet. My head’s as thick as bison dung.”
Velvet didn’t answer.
The banging intensified and I heard a hiss of words, someone trying to shout in a whisper. I rolled over to wake Velvet but she wasn’t in bed. Surely, I thought, if she’s up she’d have answered the door by now. Then I deduced that she was probably scared witless and standing behind the front door with the poker raised over her head ready to defend the homestead. Brave girl. I sighed and struggled to my feet, swaying slightly and groaning when I was upright. A headache blossomed above my eyes.
“All right!” I shouted, not caring to whisper now that I’d been disturbed. “I’m coming!”
I shuffled towards the door and saw no sign of Velvet in the gloom.
“If you’re waiting to attack whoever’s out there, my darling,” I said into the darkness, “Make sure you don’t hit me.”
I pulled the door open and there outside found not one person but a small group of Long Lofting menfolk. Rickett and Wiggery were at the head of it.
“Very sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a bit of an emergency,” said Rickett.
“Can’t it wait until the morning?”
“Some of the women have gone missing.”
“What? Where?”
“We don’t know, sir. Is the good lady Velvet with you?”
“Of course she is. She’s right over…just a moment.” I pushed the door to and retreated into the croft. “Velvet? Where are you?” I checked outside but the outhouse door stood open, no one inside. At the front door, even in the dark, my shock must have been obvious. I couldn’t keep the concern out of my voice.
“She’s not here. Does anyone know where they might have gone? Any of you?”
No one spoke, but I saw heads shaking. There was something about the mood amongst the men that unnerved me, not panic exactly but a sense of loss. It spread into me like the fever. I dressed quickly while they waited and brought the Ledger with me. I’m not a violent man but I also took the poker.
Not wanting to cause too much despair but unable to disguise my own fears, I said,
“We’d better check the square first.”
None of the men wanted to show too much concern but within a few moments we were almost running. In the square it was as I’d feared; the demon’s body was gone. Footprints in the dusty earth would be easy to follow, but first we had to check with Prattle.
I thumped hard on the door of the priest’s lodge, the rest of the men panting and sweating behind me. It took him a long time to answer.
“Wake up, Priest Prattle! Quickly now, the villagers are in great danger!”
The sacred moments wasted away while the scrawny hypocrite arose and composed himself. I imagined him reciting some useless prayer before answering the door. It creaked on its hinges and he stood there blinking and bewildered to be facing a group of sweaty men.
“Hurry, Leopold, let us in. The demon’s body has gone missing and we must make sure the head is still secure.”
I pushed past him not waiting for an invitation. The rest followed.
“Wait a moment. Hold on, now. Who said you could— oow!”
Someone stepped on his toe.
“Don’t you have a lamp, Leopold?”
“Yes, but I don’t see why I should—”
“Fetch it now, man! There’s no time!”
Containing his anger and still half asleep, Prattle brought a lamp and turned it as bright as it would go. I held it out towards the two chairs on top of the table in the courtyard and it lit up the demon’s head. I suppose we ought to have been grateful that the body hadn’t broken in and stolen the head back, otherwise all would have been lost. Instead, we still had the head.
But it wasn’t sleeping.
Nor was its face a mask of blankness.
Bathed in the ivory glow from the lamp its face shifted from one expression of ecstasy to another. First it closed its eyes and pursed its lips as if appreciating some kind of sensual caress, then its eyes sprang open, wide and staring and its mouth stretched into the black hole of a silent roar of pleasure, its teeth bared, lips drawn back. Next the eyes closed again and a silent sigh. Then the face was laughing, delighting in some devious thrill. Most of the men folk didn’t understand it straight away, but I did and, curiously, so did Prattle.
“Great Father,” he said, “The housekeepers. That’s why no one answered the door.”
“Follow me,” I shouted, “We can’t waste a moment. And I suggest you arm yourself if you haven’t already.”
I didn’t wait. I sprinted from the priest’s lodge back to the square as fast as I could, my headache and residual drunkenness forgotten for the moment. I followed the demon’s footprints. They were easy to see even in the dark because they were so big. On either side of the prints were many others; those of the bare feet of some of the Long Lofting women. The tracks led into the woods beyond Cleaver’s abattoir. Not checking to see if anyone had kept up with me, I hurtled along the path between the great oak trees, on the verge of uttering petitioning prayers to the Great Father.
I reached the clearing first. It had been the site of countless village festivals. We Long Loftingers even had
