STAGS 5, page 18
Quickly, silently, Shafeen slipped Ratio’s phone up his sleeve. The HAWK, unobserved, presumably still whirred and watched above us, but that was no consolation. We’d never wanted it to witness this – the dreadful sight of its inventor being burned alive.
But the drone was destined to capture another narrative entirely. As we watched, the Lammas Fool, the man in the fox’s mask, ran towards the burning stag and began, incredibly, to climb up one of the fiery front legs. At every instant it seemed that his clothes would catch fire, but doggedly, determinedly, he climbed above the fire to the stag’s neck, where the flames were only just beginning to lick. A crowd of revellers converged below him, screaming and throwing whatever they could, but no one else was man enough to climb the burning effigy. Meanwhile the fox, having reached the stag’s head, was pulling its face apart, wrenching aside the pliant wicker until he could gain entry. Then there were two figures silhouetted in the head, as the fox fumbled at Ratio’s gag and untied his hands. Then, only seconds ahead of the flame that roared upwards and consumed the head entirely, they jumped down onto the soft grass, as the fire finally reached the antlers and the entire stag burned in a beautiful, terrible blaze.
For a moment I lost sight of the pair who had fallen to the ground. But the revellers, in their demonic animal masks, converged on them, arms outstretched like zombies, claw-like hands grabbing – but foxy-face held on to Ratio with one hand, drew a gun with the other, and fired it into the air.
Instantly the revellers drew back and froze in place, as if they were playing a parlour game.
‘Everyone stay where you are!’
I heard a little gasp from Nel a split second before I recognised the voice.
Then Abbot Ridley took off his fox mask.
31
There was a breathless silence – the crackling and roaring of the grim golden fire-stag was the only sound.
Ratio was sitting on the grass, coughing up smoke, green head in hands. His features were blurred with soot, eyes and mouth red – never had he resembled the Joker more. He seemed weak but otherwise fine. His clothes were black with smoke but, by some miracle, not even scorched. Abbot Ridley, eyes streaming from the smoke, panting like the fox he’d pretended to be, held the gun high. I didn’t exactly know what type it was, but I thought it was some kind of revolver. I’d seen enough movies to know that there were six bullets in the cylinder, and he’d used up one of them already. But there were far, far more than five people here, and if the crowd rushed him, he’d probably only be able to loose one shot before he was overwhelmed. The stakes were so high now – an interloper had witnessed what the DOGS had done, and surely they couldn’t let Nathaniel Ridley leave this mountain alive?
The beasts began to creep forward, and Abbot Ridley turned around and around, pointing his gun at one animal then the next. There were far too many of them for him to cover. But just before any of the beasts could leap for him there was the sound of a whistle, and the roving beam of a powerful torch scanning the hillside. Then another whistle, and another beam. Then another, and another. A man in uniform ran forward to stand with the Abbot, to be joined by five, ten, twenty more.
Thank God.
The police.
The revellers tried to run but were prevented – there were policemen coming from all directions. The first officer produced a megaphone. ‘Stay where you are,’ he said in a commanding Scots voice. ‘You are surrounded by officers. Remain in place and take off your masks.’
The beasts looked at each other.
‘I repeat: Take. Off. Your. Masks.’
Now the hapless creatures looked to their Grand Master. Very, very slowly the Old Abbot lifted his gloved hands to his antlers and took off his mask. His white hair dishevelled, his face crumpled and sweaty, his power and command had gone. He just looked like a sad old man. One by one, all the DOGS followed his lead. The faces of Peregrine de Warlencourt and his son Louis were revealed, followed by the rest of the Dark Order – famous people, politicians, minor royals. Then every other creature removed their animal head, and I saw once again all those characters from The Gathering, the STAGS Club, the Boxing Day hunt, Cumberland Place and Longcross. Some I knew, like the Medievals and Cass. Some I didn’t. But all were guilty as hell.
‘Shafeen!’ Abbot Ridley yelled across to him. ‘The drone.’ Shafeen, understanding at once, slid Ratio’s phone from his sleeve and began to tap the HAWK’s controls. The drone obediently flew down to head height and hovered around the company, recording every naked face, before returning to the skies when bidden by Shafeen.
The burly man with the megaphone (an inspector?) began to speak again. ‘You must all consider yourselves under arrest. You must not attempt to leave Skye. I repeat, you cannot leave Skye. The bridge is guarded, the ferry suspended, and the coast will be policed in case you attempt to leave in private boats. Return to your accommodation where you will each be questioned over the coming days. I repeat, you will not be permitted to leave the island until you have given a statement as to your part in tonight’s proceedings.’
The crowd began to disperse, escorted down the hillside by the uniformed officers. In the background, the wicker stag was a glowing red skeleton. Once the DOGS left our side we ran over to Abbot Ridley, who was talking to the police inspector. Now he wasn’t using the megaphone the officer seemed much less scary – a big but twinkly Scotsman with laughter lines around his eyes. ‘Mr Ridley,’ he was saying, ‘thank you for the leads you gave us. You were certainly right about the atrocity we witnessed tonight. But I sincerely hope you have a licence for that gun.’
Abbot Ridley grinned. ‘I do.’ Obviously the Abbot had all sorts of hidden depths we didn’t know about. He really was James Bond, and I could see his glamour points increase about a thousandfold in Nel’s eyes.
The inspector smiled too. ‘Very well then, I’ll take your word for it. But you too will please stay at the address you gave us. We’ll be round in the morning.’
When the inspector had gone, Nel threw herself into Abbot Ridley’s arms and they kissed passionately.
As soon as she could speak Nel said, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ said the Abbot. ‘It was actually lucky that I got pelted with the eggs and milk – my costume and gloves were so saturated they protected me from the flames. Being the Lammas Fool might just have saved my life.’
‘And mine,’ Ratio croaked from the grass.
‘Good,’ said Henry to the Abbot. ‘I thought you might have ended up with hands like mine.’ And I remembered then when someone else had been saved from a different fire. Ty. The object of Henry’s salvation now sat with Ratio, her arms wrapped around him.
‘Has that ever happened before?’ Nel asked Henry. ‘The stag sacrifice, I mean.’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head vehemently. ‘I swear not. Huntin’ shootin’ fishin’ is one thing – it’s indefensible and I admit I was a part of it – but to burn someone alive? In cold blood? As a human sacrifice? No. Not in my time.’
‘It must be because they didn’t kill you on the Red Hunt,’ said Shafeen to me. ‘They needed a sacrifice, and they found one in Ratio.’
‘Did they grab you when you were out on the recce?’ asked Ty of Ratio.
‘No,’ he gasped, wincing. ‘They took me directly from the Peel Tower.’ He looked up at Henry, eyes still bloodshot with smoke. ‘Looks like someone gave me away,’ he said pointedly.
‘Yes,’ I said, suddenly seeing how it had been. ‘You did.’
Now Ratio looked at me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The bulletproof vest you sent me,’ I said. ‘Cass opened it. She saw your note. From Ratio and the Peel Tower Rebels.’
‘Ah,’ he said ruefully. ‘Yes, that would do it.’
‘She gave it to me too late as well,’ I said. ‘After the Red Hunt. I bet that was no accident.’
Just then there was a creak and a crash as the fiery stag structure finally gave up the ghost and fell into ashes. We watched the glowing embers for a moment. It seemed so symbolic – the destruction of the Order and the end of STAGS. We looked at each other. ‘What do we do now?’ I said.
‘Go home, I suppose,’ said Shafeen. ‘House arrest until they talk to us. But it’s over.’
We walked down the hill together, Ty and Shafeen supporting a sooty, limping Ratio. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief, followed by a wave of tiredness. Dread is very draining – and when it lifts, you have nothing much left.
‘Where will you go?’ Nel said to Abbot Ridley.
‘I told them I’d be at the Peel Tower,’ he replied. ‘If there’s a space for me.’
‘I’ll make you comfortable,’ said Nel, and he smiled down at her. It took a bit of getting used to, the idea of the Abbot and Nel together, because it was hard to get it out of my head that he was our headteacher, even though I knew now that he was an agent of the FOXES and hadn’t really ever been our teacher at all. It wasn’t that weird that they were together, since he was late twenties and she was nearly nineteen, and older men and younger women were, as Mrs Potts might say, ‘a tale as old as time’. But it still took a bit of mental adjusting to accept it – maybe calling him Nathaniel instead of ‘the Abbot’ might help, so I resolved to do that in future.
‘I might have to sleep with the HAWK under my pillow and this gun in my hand,’ said Nathaniel as we walked. ‘That drone contains solid evidence against the Order.’ He looked at Ratio. ‘They clearly attempted your murder tonight.’
‘No shit.’ Ratio grimaced.
‘Unless they claim he was in the stag by accident?’ said Ty. ‘You know, was helping to build it and got trapped? I wouldn’t put it past them.’
‘Might have been better not to bind and gag him if they wanted to use that defence,’ said Nathaniel. ‘No – we’ve got them this time.’
I shivered. Away from the fire, I was finally cold. ‘I wish we could leave tonight,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anything else to go wrong.’
‘Like what?’ said Henry.
‘I don’t know.’ I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. ‘Like they try to harm one of us.’
‘I’ve made sure we’ll all be properly guarded,’ said Nathaniel reassuringly. ‘But be ready to leave in the morning.’
‘What about all that house arrest and statements stuff?’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Nathaniel, not quite meeting my eyes. ‘As soon as those ferries are running, we’re away.’
‘And what if the Order steal the drone, like you said?’ Worrying had become such a habit I couldn’t quite stop.
‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ croaked Ratio. ‘The footage has already uploaded to the Saros Orbit.’
I stole a glance at Henry. We’d done exactly the same thing with the footage of his confession at the top of Conrad’s Force. I wondered what would happen to that now – I supposed in the trial that would follow that would all come out too, and I felt a little stone of unhappiness settle just below my heart.
It was decided that Henry and I would spend one more night in the castle as there wasn’t exactly room in the Peel Tower, especially now that Nathaniel was there too. If I went back with them I’d have to share the living room with Shafeen, and neither of us were ready for that yet. He did, however, hang back at the entrance to Castle MacLeod to say goodnight to me. ‘You’ll be all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, not at all sure I would be. ‘They know the police are on to them. It’s just one more night. Shafeen …’
‘No,’ he said, but kindly. ‘Not tonight. Tomorrow.’
He didn’t kiss me, but he hugged me tightly, and I felt in the strength of that hug that maybe there was a way back for us.
In the atrium Henry and Louis were talking to each other at the bottom of the staircase underneath the duelling pistols, furious and low-voiced. Neither one of them was wearing their mask, and Louis only had one glove on. I almost went to them but Henry looked up and gave his head a tiny shake. It was obviously some private matter, so I went into reverse and mounted the stairs to the North Tower instead.
I didn’t know whether I desired or dreaded Henry coming to say goodnight once he had finished speaking with Louis. I knew I wanted to get back together with Shafeen, but I did want to talk over the dramatic events of the evening with Henry. As it turned out, I was bathed, in my nightclothes and in bed before the knock came.
He closed the door gently behind him but didn’t come all the way into the room.
‘I came to say goodbye.’ He seemed unusually hesitant and wouldn’t look at me. ‘I … I made a deal with someone. If I go now, you won’t be touched.’
‘But there are police everywhere,’ I protested. ‘They won’t harm me now.’
‘If you think that,’ he said ruefully, ‘you really don’t know the Order. No. It has to be this way.’
God. He was going to do it. He was going to give himself up. ‘Will … will I see you again?’
‘No.’ He gave a small, sad smile. ‘It’s the only thing to do, Greer. I have to make things right.’
He held out his fire-scarred hand – the one that usually bore the signet ring with the little antlers stamped on it. I looked at the hand. Was that how this ended, the culmination of everything we’d been through together? A handshake?
‘This can’t be it.’ My voice clotted with tears.
‘What else can there be?’ he said. ‘I made a promise to Shafeen that I would never kiss you again.’
I got up. ‘But I … I didn’t promise.’
As if in a dream I walked towards him. And now I knew I had dreamed of that moment, over and over again; had to admit to myself how much I’d wanted it, even though I’d fought so hard against it.
I took Henry de Warlencourt’s face in my hands, and for the first, and last, time, I kissed him. The kiss went on and on; our hands were in each other’s hair, our bodies pressed together hard. The fire that had been threatening to engulf me all weekend burned me right up like the stag on the hillside. We fell back on the bed, and I knew it was no good fighting it any more.
I knew exactly how we were going to say goodbye.
32
I woke the next morning with a brief feeling of complete happiness.
All the complications and worries and doubts of the future would come later – the loss of Henry to the authorities, the complicated situation with Shafeen, the trial and hopefully punishment of the Order – but for now I was where I was, and there was only one thought in my mind. I’d slept with Henry de Warlencourt, and in a moment I would turn to find him naked in my bed next to me, and would snuggle back into his arms, where I’d spent the night.
I turned over.
There was no Henry, just a note on the pillow, just like in the movies.
I love you, Greer.
Goodbye.
H x
And right by the note was a rowan twig, scarlet berries shrivelled on the bough, and a circle of red thread.
I’d never dressed so quickly in my life. I ran downstairs so fast I almost tripped over myself. I couldn’t let Henry give himself up. I didn’t know where he’d gone, so the first place I went was the duelling pistols, where we’d met every morning of that fateful weekend, hoping against foolish hope that somehow, magically, he would be waiting for me.
He wasn’t there.
Neither were the pistols.
Then pieces of memory began to slot together in my mind:
Louis had killed Rollo in order to be Earl of Longcross.
Henry’s resurrection stood between Louis and the earldom.
Louis wanted Henry dead.
Louis and Henry talking, furious and low-voiced, underneath the pistols last night.
Louis wearing just one glove.
Henry saying: ‘I might have known Louis wouldn’t do it in a gentlemanly way.’
Me saying: ‘What would be a gentlemanly way? To slap you in the face with a single glove and challenge you to a duel?’
A duel.
‘No,’ I said aloud. ‘No, no, no, no, no.’
Suddenly every movie I’d ever seen about duels flashed into my head. Barry Lyndon. The Duellists. Hamilton. Always at dawn. Always in a misty meadow. Always with the duellists back to back, taking ten paces, turning and firing. Two men enter, one man leaves. But where would Henry go to fight a deadly duel with his cousin? He could be anywhere on Skye and I only had one chance to get this right. It wasn’t light yet, but it soon would be. There was only one person who could find him – or rather, one thing.
The HAWK.
I ran to the Peel Tower as fast as I could. No one prevented me, but actually I’m not sure any policeman in the world could have stopped me that morning.
It took me perhaps ten minutes to get to the tower, and I hammered on the door until someone answered. That someone was Shafeen, hair everywhere and eyes half closed. He was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie and I knew he’d been first to the door because he was sleeping alone in the downstairs sitting room. That didn’t make me feel better about my betrayal, but I didn’t have time to flagellate myself right now. A life was at stake.
‘Henry,’ I gasped, almost doubled over. ‘He’s gone to fight a duel with Louis.’
Shafeen went from being half asleep to fully awake in about a second. ‘How do you know?’
‘I saw them talking last night, underneath those duelling pistols. Louis only had one glove on, as if he’d issued a challenge, you know?’
‘I do know.’
‘And last night, when he came to say goodnight –’ I swallowed guiltily – ‘Henry said he’d done a deal with someone. That if he gave himself up I would not be touched. I assumed he meant the police. But now I know he meant Louis. And when I went downstairs this morning the duelling pistols had gone.’
