The Haunting Read online

  Luke jumped up and ran to Bethany grabbing her by the arm.

  ‘Hold!’ Rang out a loud voice.

  An officer pushed through the circle of troops and held out a scroll of paper. He began reading aloud, but his words meant little or nothing to the Gypsies. They already knew what was happening. The rumours had been circulating for months that they were to be eliminated from the country. They had been stripped of all rights and were treated as illegals, able to be bought and sold as slaves.

  Jeb suddenly dashed forward and charged the officer, who, not expecting it stood still, not able to react. The soldier beside him did, though. He raised his musket and fired at point blank range. The ball took Jeb solidly in the chest, flinging him back to lay crumpled on the ground.

  Bethany ran to him, unhindered by the soldiers who were still in shock themselves. She threw herself on her father trying to shield him from harm, but too late; he was already dead. His chest had been destroyed instantly by the heavy lead ball.

  The entire Gypsy community, now joined Bethany, crowding around their dead chief. The women wailed while the men looked ferociously at the soldiers, particularly at the one who killed Jeb. The officer quickly regained his composure and ordered his men to round up everybody. Some of the Gypsy men made a run for it and were hotly pursued by the troops. In the confusion, Luke grabbed Bethany and dragged her away. He had to use force because she was reluctant to leave the still form of her father. They were spotted by the officer, who directed two troopers to capture them. Luke ran toward the woods as fast as he could drag Bethany along. At the fringe of the trees, he shouted at her to run like the wind back to the bakery where she would be safe. Luke turned to meet the soldiers, giving her the time she needed. She tried to stay, not wanting to leave him to the mercy of their pursuers, but he shouted again that she must flee.

  As Bethany disappeared into the undergrowth, the troopers caught up with Luke. He managed to fell one to the ground, but the other brought the butt of his rifle up sharply, knocking him unconscious.

  Bethany knew nothing of this and continued to run as he had directed until she emerged onto the dusty road. Turning abruptly, she ran all the way to the bakery, arriving out of breath and near collapse. Seth heard the commotion and emerged from the kitchen door.

  ‘What happened?’ He shouted at her, but she could hardly breathe let alone speak.

  He shook her by the shoulders,

  ‘Tell me what happened, damn you!’ He exclaimed.

  Bethany managed to get one word out between gasps,

  ‘Soldiers.’

  Seth looked around at the yard,

  ‘Where? Where are these soldiers?’

  Bethany dissolved into tears,

  ‘At the camp in the woods, they killed my father.’

  Seth hugged her to him, looking over her shoulder with an evil smile lighting up his countenance.

  They had come then; the soldiers had unwittingly carried out his bidding and with more success than he dared hope. He had wanted her father out of the way, but now he was dead and no longer any threat to him.

  Bethany pulled away from him; she had allowed his embrace only because of her panic. Now the old fears returned, and she once again viewed him as her lecherous father-in-law.

  Seth allowed her to withdraw from his embrace,

  ‘Where’s Luke?’ He asked.

  Bethany began to weep,

  ‘The soldiers caught him, he helped me run away, but I’m sure they captured him.’

  Seth was appalled, this was not part of his plan. He needed Luke to work in the bakery. How would he cope on his own? It was impossible. Bethany stood forlornly staring at the ground; she felt lost without Luke, and the death of her father had not yet actually sunk in.

  ‘You’ll have to work with me in the bakery; there’s no other way.’ Seth said in a matter of fact way, leaving no room for objection.

  Bethany walked into the house not hearing anything he said; she was so wrapped up in her grief with the death of her father and loss of her husband. She realised he may even be dead too.

  Luke regained conciseness and stared up at the blue sky. Feeling the rough motion of a cart and looking sideways he saw the rest of the Gypsies sitting, all roped together. Lifting up his hands and seeing they were unbound, wondered if the soldiers thought him dead. Turning around onto his stomach he was able to look out of the rear of the cart. It had no back, and he could see clearly. The troop of soldiers were marching behind but were some distance back, affording him a view of the surrounds as they slowly passed. He started as the bakery slid past and cried out for his father and Bethany. He had not noticed the trooper walking beside the cart until the rifle butt connected with the side of his head. He collapsed onto the floor, stunned once again.

  Bethany saw the soldiers marching past but was whisked off to the safety of the bakery by Seth. She wanted desperately to see if Luke had been captured, but Seth held her firmly by the wrists. He didn’t release her until the soldiers, together with their full wagon of prisoners, had disappeared from view.

  Chapter 16

  Sebastian woke with a headache from hell. He never usually suffered from them and found it difficult to cope, holding his head in both hands as he walked downstairs. The cup of coffee didn’t appear to help, and the loud rapping on the kitchen door made him jump.

  He opened the door to see two policemen standing with notebooks in hand.

  ‘Excuse me sir, but we need to have a chat about the poor fellow who died. Apparently, he was here, and you are possibly the last to see him alive.’

  Sebastian ushered them in and invited them to sit at the kitchen table, plonking himself down beside them.

  The police officers went through the usual protocol asking him exactly how the man had left the house. Sebastian explained how he had run out and jumped into his van, speeding off without any explanation. The police noted it all down and thanked him for his help.

  ‘But, was it suicide then?’ He asked as they made to leave.

  ‘Certainly looks that way, although I could have thought up far better ways to end it all.’ Replied the officer.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sebastian asked.

  ‘Well sir, I’m not supposed to comment until after the coroner’s court, but I find it hard to believe the poor sod wound electric cable around his neck four or five times before stringing himself up. I just can’t see how he could have managed it, but there is no evidence of anyone else being present at or anywhere near the scene, so I suppose he must have.’ The policeman turned away with a puzzled look as if he was still trying to work it out.

  He paused at the doorway,

  ‘Are you absolutely sure there was no one else in the house when he was working upstairs?’

  ‘No, I was the only other person here, and I was outside working at clearing away the undergrowth from around the bakery.’ Said Sebastian.

  ‘Do you mind if we take a look upstairs?’

  ‘No, not at all, help yourself.’ Sebastian replied.

  He directed the two officers upstairs and left them to it. There was nothing to see up there but supposed they needed to check everything.

  Sebastian sat down at the table again, his head still thumping as if a hammer were banging against his forehead. The clatter of feet on the stair brought him to his feet and before he could say anything the two policemen were out the door and in their car. The engine fired and accompanied by fine gravel thrown up by the spinning wheels the car sped off.

  Sebastian stared after the car long after it had disappeared. What the hell was going on? He wondered. The policemen had left at the same speed as the telephone engineer and looked every bit as scared. He went upstairs into his bedroom to see what all the fuss was about but found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing had been disturbed; his bed was still as he had left it, unmade. Descending once again to the kitchen, he replenished his coffee and sat at the table, hoping the headache he now had would at least calm down. The two paraceta
mol tablets he had taken earlier hadn’t helped at all. Sitting with his head in both hands, Sebastian didn’t notice a shadow flit downstairs and out the door.

  His mobile phone went off, vibrating across the table at the same time and he grabbed it to stop the sound tearing through his brain. The loud voice on the other end didn’t help either.

  ‘Seb, it’s me!’ He held the phone away from his ear as the speaker struggled to contain the piercing voice of his sister.

  ‘Hi Caroline, could you please keep it down a bit, I have the mother of all headaches this morning.’ He implored.

  Caroline only had two volumes, off and deafening, so she carried on yelling down the phone.

  ‘Give me your new address; I’m coming to stay.’ She said, not giving Sebastian the opportunity to say no.

  Sebastian gave her directions, and she said she would arrive later in the day. Oh, goody, he thought, just what I didn’t need. A manic sister who would undoubtedly have a tale of woe to impart. He guessed it would involve a man and yet another broken romance.

  Caroline arrived in a sporty little BMW kicking up the gravel as she braked hard. Sebastian went out to greet her, his headache thankfully now considerably diminished. She flung her arms out wide in greeting, and he accepted her embrace with a peck on the cheek. Her cheery welcome didn’t last, however, he knew it wouldn’t and waited to hear the latest episode in the ever changing love life of his younger sister.

  Caroline was thirty-eight going on sixteen as Sebastian often testified. She had never grown up and remained continuously in that twilight world of endless romance inhabited by most young girls. Most naturally grew out of it but Caroline never had, and now at her age, she was left with either ageing men or men closer to her age but inevitably recently divorced. Even worse were the ones who swore undying love and who maintained they were the victims of an unhappy marriage. Caroline never doubted them, until the chips were down that was, then they disappeared, back to their apparently ‘unhappy’ marriage.

  Sebastian wondered which one it would be this time; he didn’t have to wait long. No sooner had her bags hit the floor she dissolved into tears, slumping down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Tea?’ Enquired Sebastian, accepting that she would occupy centre stage for the entire duration of her stay.

  ‘Scotch darling, if you have any?’ She replied, the tears coursing down both cheeks.

  Her brother wondered where all the water came from. How could one person emit so much without totally dehydrating? He poured two measures of whisky and handed her a glass. She downed it in one gulp, and he noted that her drinking habits had not improved.

  He sat in silence as she outlined her latest disastrous attempt at finding ‘the one’. She always maintained he was out there, just waiting for her to discover him. Apparently not this one though. The latest beau had been a rather successful lawyer. He was in his early fifties, that most critical age for any man. They had enjoyed a spirited romance for six months until his wife had inevitably found out. He had not even had the decency or indeed the courage to end the relationship face to face. Caroline had received a brief text message leaving her in no doubt that it was over.

  So, here she was after God only knew how many failed romances. She would stay with Sebastian until the next prospect appeared on the horizon. She always did, and he always said yes. How could he not? She was his little sister after all.

  When she had stopped crying sometime after the third or was it the fourth glass of whisky, he carried her bags up the stairs and deposited them in the bedroom next to his own. Luckily, he had thought to install a spare bed, just in case. He smiled to himself as the thought struck him that ‘just in case’ nearly always referred to Caroline. He was always there to pick up the pieces.

  Chapter 17

  Luke sat upright in the cart; his head was aching so badly he could barely open his eyes. The dim light of evening was still too bright for comfort. He realised he was in some town or other outside a grim looking building with bars on all the windows. The rest of the Gypsy people were lined up at the solid looking door, none spoke, they stood in silent misery contemplating their fate. Luke was roughly hauled from the back of the wagon and deposited at the end of the line, barely able to stand.

  The door opened, and the line of bedraggled men, women and children entered the forbidding building. Luke was the last to walk through the entrance portal and dared to ask one of the soldiers where they were.

  ‘Boston.’ He answered, ‘But only for the night, you lot are headed for Kings Lynn.’

  ‘Why there?’ Asked Luke.

  The answer came in the form of a poke in the back with a rifle butt, and he wondered if it was the same one who had stunned him earlier. He looked back at the soldier with the glint of anger in his eyes. The soldier laughed crudely,

  ‘Go on then, feeling brave are you? Just give me the excuse, and I’ll put a ball in you same as I did the other one.’

  Luke couldn’t help himself; his anger was slowly consuming him,

  ‘You’re the bastard who killed Jeb at the camp!’ He exclaimed.

  The guard was enjoying this,

  ‘If you mean the big ugly brute who attacked the officer, then yes, I killed him and if I had my way we would have killed the lot of you there and then. Scum, all of you, not fit to live with decent folk.’

  Luke didn’t have any further opportunity to respond as he was hauled away to join the rest in one large cell. They were packed in so tightly they were obliged to stand up.

  Night drew upon them, and the light faded to nothing. The children began to cry; all were hungry. It became apparent that no food would be forthcoming and in desperation, the two women who were breastfeeding their babies put each of the children to the breast to afford them a little sustenance. The adults would go hungry.

  The stay in the confined cell was a nightmare. Few could sleep, and those that did were eventually trampled underfoot until they awoke to stand with the rest. The morning saw the group thoroughly dispirited. With their leader present, they might have retained some form of dignity, but with Jeb dead, there was no hope. Luke wondered what had become of him. Had they buried him in the woods?

  As the thin light grew each man, woman and child used the single bucket in the corner of the cell. Luke was the last to relieve himself and blanched at the disgusting sight and smell of the overflowing bucket.

  A gaoler appeared carrying a few loaves of stale bread and several pannikins for water contained in a barrel outside the bars. He passed the meagre rations through a hole in the bars followed by the containers of water. There was barely enough for two mouthfuls each plus a little water to wash it down. The gaoler remained silent and when Luke tried to talk to him about more food for the children he ignored him. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the water pannikins demanding their return. They were passed over heads and through the bars until all were accounted for, the man leaving without uttering a word.

  It was still very early when the door was at last thrown open and the inmates allowed to file out. The soldiers looked refreshed, and all had the smell of stale beer on their breath. The Gypsies were led out and jammed back into the wagon, this time Luke sat with the rest. The children began to cry, and the soldiers shouted at them to be quiet, the mothers pulled their young ones close, gently admonishing them to be silent.

  The sorry group trundled off down the road towards Kings Lynn and who knew what future. Some believed it would be years in prison; others saw only the noose hanging from the gallows awaiting necks to stretch.

  It was late when at last they stopped, and aching bones were allowed to rest as they were unloaded from the wagon. The group was herded into a kind of stockade; Luke guessed it would usually have contained livestock. His suspicions were confirmed when he stepped into a still wet cowpat. The entire floor was covered in animal dung.

  The second night in captivity was no better than the first. As darkness settled on them, a gentle rain began to fall, increasing
their misery. The women who could breastfeed once again fed all the children ensuring they at least would receive some form of sustenance. The cowpat littered floor became a slippery mess, and several unfortunates slid, landing on their backs in the filth.

  It was late in the night when a few of their soldier escorts arrived to relieve the guard. This lot had by their demeanour been drinking heavily, and the relieved guards went off to receive their stipend of ale from the local tavern.

  Luke looked through the wooden stakes of the stockade and became increasingly worried. These soldiers were very much the worse for wear in drink, and he knew of the reputation of troopers when the drink was upon them. He had heard many harrowing stories in the inn at Lower Marston about soldiers and their filthy habits, and they were now at their mercy. No one cared for, or about, Gypsies; they were less than human in many people's eyes.

  The soldiers’ chatter became increasingly voluble, and flagons of ale could be seen changing hands. The drinking had not stopped when they left the tavern; they had brought more with them.

  Luke was in the middle of the group when a cry went up from the front. He craned his neck to see over heads and saw several of the soldiers lined up with muskets trained on the stockade. The gate was opened suddenly, and the troops advanced on the inmates, threatening them with their guns. While the Gypsies remained frozen in fear one of the soldiers rushed forward and grabbed one of the young mothers. She was still attempting to feed a child, but the trooper brushed the young one aside, roughly manhandling her out of the stockade. The gate closed, and the soldiers moved off with the woman, leaving one of them to guard the gate. The woman could be heard crying out in protest as she was led away towards a shed near the stockade. The Gypsy menfolk and Luke were forced to listen to the wailing of the woman as she was repeatedly raped by the drunken troops. Luke felt powerless but was seething with anger at this blatant injustice. No one would listen to this poor woman; there would be no retribution for the soldiers. Their officer would consider it a bonus for the men and knew it would keep them in line, stop them from being disgruntled with their poor pay and lack of home comforts.