Page 56 of Burying Venus

Clutching the paper Aleyn left on the space beside him, Dermot learnt where they were to go. The north, as he had been told, and far. He had never before seen the place named, only recognised it as a dim outline signalling an end to land. And there, amidst the flatland, lay Fand as she had been marked by Aleyn’s hand.

‘Is it far?’ Aubrey murmured. He sat in the back of the cart like fine wares.

Fumbling with the reins, Dermot said, ‘It’s a fair ride. But don’t worry.’ He paused, remembering Aubrey had no inkling of Aleyn’s plan. He wasn’t aware of Maldred’s existence, and for that Dermot was glad, even if it was soon to be corrected. ‘It is a difficult time for the villagers. Wages lessen each year but prices increase, owing to the war. Dwellings kept for generations no longer recognised by law, soldiers coming over from the mainland, harassing local women. Well, you saw their kind at the castle,’ Dermot said, adamant he not mention Aubrey’s family by name, though their shadows lurked in every complaint. ‘They want me to beg for their god’s mercy. Superstitious people who keep to the old ways… I know you must think it strange, Lord Aubrey, and I don’t want to offend you. We will be gone after this, I promise, to the mainland.’

Time passed and Aubrey didn’t deign to reply, something which gave Dermot pause. His hands shook as he bade the donkey take a turn. After all, if Aubrey were to becomefrightened or reject him, he would be complicit in kidnapping. He could not return to the castle now, else explain he left at the boy’s behest. Aubrey’s misjudgement might become the noose round his neck.

They came to a place of worship, crosses signalling bodies lay beneath. Many were in the traditional style but a few were native; sinuous, elaborate lines wrapped around one another in perpetuity, four slabs in opposing directions cutting into open air. There was a myriad of these great stones on either side of the road, extending far off into the distance. The dead had to go somewhere, Dermot knew, but to envision bodies and bones of those who had once walked freely was disturbing. If his life ended at the castle, whether through sickness or some other method, he too would’ve been interred with scarcely a few scrawls upon stone. Nothing but a body that had served its purpose, to go freely to no other land.

‘I do not mind them believing in another god,’ Aubrey said at last, making Dermot jolt. ‘My tutor left me some years ago. Since then I have read books written by pagans, whatever my father’s library gave me access to. So, please, do not think me judgemental.’

Dermot’s insides unwound. He had been in despair for too long, thinking he’d stolen away an innocent lordling. Many more days at the castle would’ve been spent in misery had it not been for Aubrey’s occasional appearances.

‘I would never think that,’ Dermot said quickly. ‘It was you who stood at trial when no one else would… and I…’

‘Oh, no!’ Aubrey gasped. He crawled across the cart from where he’d been sitting until at last one pretty hand wrapped around the wood that made up Dermot’s chair. ‘How could you? My brother would’ve punished you for it. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, at least, but I hadn’t expected to be decried as a witch myself.’

‘I hate to think of you alone in that place, unable to leave your chambers,’ Dermot said. They were veering towards a small town, one he discerned by the hill on the horizon. ‘We were permitted at least to leave the castle on Sunday, providing all chores were done.’

‘But that’s frightful!’ Aubrey cried, near startling Dermot off the cart. ‘Why should you not go out any other day? I know my brothers are always going to town. Truly, they work you too hard. If you wish to leave, why can’t you go?’

Hearing Aubrey echo his own sentiments, Dermot couldn’t bear to say more. Heart hanging in his chest like a man condemned, he knew Aubrey wouldn’t stoop to love a man such as he. Yet still he could think of nothing else.

‘Oh, I recall this place,’ Aubrey whispered, having become timid in the silence that grew between them. ‘This is where my father and I, and of course my brothers, came to have the laws passed.’

Dermot saw the very same. The roads they travelled became altogether less rugged as they arrived. A hill stood with three great mounds as they turned the corner, said to be formed with stones from every parish. Long before any Stanley lord had heard of their island.

‘Do you like it here?’ Dermot asked. A pole had somehow been speared through the hill, shaming the spire of a cathedral that lurked beyond. It was, he guessed, where laws were put to paper.

‘The journey was special. I rarely leave the castle, as you know. But the event is tedious and can last for hours. I hate being watched by so many people. I find it frightful, and sometimes my voice leaves me in the commotion and I can’t find the will to speak,’ Aubrey confessed, remarkably quiet so that Dermot strained to hear. That he spoke at all was wondrous, so shy and withdrawn was he.

‘I understand,’ Dermot said. He could not sympathise with Aubrey’s soft life, but the rabble, as he now understood, was dangerous. If the people observed even a twitch, it would be remarked on. Certainly his own complexion had been on many tongues; even Robert and Will spoke of it in their lovemaking. ‘When I was doing the cleaning, there would be hours of silence. And both the supervisors were terrors.’

‘I am sorry to hear,’ Aubrey said, soft as a wisp. ‘I can’t imagine being forced to work. Isn’t it silly, in fact, to have adults watching one another? You are not children.’

Nodding fervently, Dermot said, ‘I have thought so all my life.’

‘That is how I feel about my brothers,’ Aubrey went on, voice fluctuating as he spoke. ‘I have always been watched, else left alone so I can’t cause some embarrassment. After my tutor left, I continued to read, but with no one to converse with, my thoughts faded as soon as they took form. Soon I began to forget things, even something I’d done but moments ago.’

Such a concept was foreign to him. Being in Béchard’s service, every action was schooled so all was done unconsciously. But that required no new or exciting thoughts, so he supposed they had both been domesticated.

‘In the future,’ Dermot said slowly, ‘if you forget anything, tell me. I can recall.’

Glimpsing the map, tracing a finger from the village to the outskirts they’d passed through, Dermot concluded progress had been good. His heart beat soundly, so fast and hard it was a miracle Aubrey didn’t hear.

‘Thank you,’ Aubrey murmured, so quietly Dermot barely understood.

Observing the day’s end, Dermot pulled at the reins so the donkey came to a halt. They were once more apart from society, having taken a road into a forest so remote that vegetation, be it a few drooping flowers or an overgrown bramble, had to befrequently avoided. There was no hope of doing so in darkness, so he urged the donkey onward, then unhooked the poor creature to allow them all some respite.

‘We’ll continue in the morning,’ Dermot said, clutching the map and looking into the cart. ‘Is it comfortable enough for you? I should’ve asked mother for some blankets but I didn’t think. Will you be able to sleep?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Aubrey said. ‘But you must be far more tired than I, steering the donkey as you have. And look at her, isn’t she so sweet? She deserves a rest too.’

Looking about until he discerned the creature stretching to reach some grass, he smiled. Aubrey would probably dream up a name for it before long.

‘She’s got endurance,’ Dermot agreed, glimpsing the ground and supposing he’d have to sleep like an animal himself. He’d certainly ensure he was safely away from the donkey, no matter how nice Aubrey supposed it to be.

‘Where are you going?’ Aubrey said. This, spoken so forlornly, made Dermot pause.