Garrick stirred lazily his body heavy in the blurred summer light that was streaming down through the smudged windows. The heady scent of horses mingled with the musty smell of the hay he was lying amongst. He heard the rustling of the straw scratching together and felt the stack beneath him gently shifting.

He opened his eyes blearily but it was only Isabelle, crawling in beside him as she liked to do late at night when everyone else was sound asleep. Then they would lie with their arms around each other, chattering and laughing, or comforting if the day had been hard. Well into the night she would stay until their eyelids drooped heavily and they were close to sleep. Then she would patter off softly on her little feet lest their father discover them there in the morning.

She was wearing her thin white nightgown but it was streaked with dirt. There was dirt clinging to her flaming red hair and he could see shadows of black beneath the perfect crescents of her fingernails. Then he remembered she had sneaked into the stable to be with him, so of course she would have got dirty. His heart gave a great pounding throb as he looked at those dirty little feet and he thought of the lengths she must have gone just to see him.

She tentatively reached out a pale hand towards him. He could see the fingers trembling as she held back from him, her slender body perched awkwardly on the edge of the haystack.

How could she think him angry with her, as she sat there as though waiting for permission to approach him? He reached forward and grasped her chill hand in an instant, twining his fingers around hers, tangling his heartstrings with hers.

He heard her sigh, as her shivering body relaxed against his in relief and he wrapped his arm around her. She was so very cold! He held her tighter, rubbing his hand against her frail arms trying to impart some of the warmth of the stable to her freezing skin. She had become so thin since he had last seen her. He thought he almost could have snapped her bony arm between his hands.

She leaned her little face against his, into the crook of his neck where it had always fitted perfectly and he gave an involuntary shiver at the chill of her skin, the dampness of her hair. She was gently stroking his hand with her fingers, leaving icy trails along them.

He buried his face in her hair to smell the familiar scent that always clung to the strands, the earthy smell of the forest, of oaks and birches and autumn. The scent was still there, but only faintly, underlying a powerful stench of moist decay and disintegration that filled his nostrils and made him choke.

“Where have you been my Isabelle? You smell like a tomb. You know Father will beat you if he catches you in the crypts again. Your curiosity will get you in trouble again, it will”.

“Garrick…”, she whispered, her voice the dry rustling of the wind moving through the dead leaves of autumn.

“It’s alright my love. I’ll hide you from him, if he finds out. We will tell him it’s my fault, that I made you go down there and he can beat me instead. I am stronger”.

“Oh Isabelle how I have missed you!”

She squeezed feebly at his arms, her limbs all skin and bones and angles and then he felt her drawing away from his embrace. He tried desperately to cling to her, but his arms would not move properly and it was as though her body was smoke, winding away from his clutching hands.

He sobbed in despair, “Isabelle please… please don’t leave me again… please…”.

She leant down over his useless body and hissed, “I will come to you again my Garrick”.

She kissed him softly on the cheek and an icy burning pain flared there as his eyes began to blur.

“We will be together Garrick…”, she whispered and then she was gone.

“Garrick! Garrick!”, he heard the loud shouts of men and the frantic whinnying of the horses in his pounding head, trying without success to block them all out.

“Yer Lordship… wake up!”, he felt strong hands shaking him and opened his eyes blearily.

Noah stood above him, and he could see Arran’s worried face bobbing around behind him.

“I’m fine…”, he managed to croak, his throat dry as he struggled to lift himself up with trembling arms.

He looked around in confusion, for he was lying on the floor and where was Isabelle? And then he remembered with a dreadful hollow pang and he understood where he was.

He looked up at Arran’s peaky face and the boy was staring at him with that same wide-eyed terrified expression that seemed to flit across his face a hundred times a day.

“What… what is it boy?”, he snapped as he stumbled to his feet.

“It’s just… it’s just… what’s happen’ to yer face me Lord?”, he wavered.

Garrick brought a hand up gingerly to his face, shuddering in pain as his fingers touched raw open flesh.

He brought his hands slowly down before him, staring in disbelief at the blood that was smeared on his trembling fingers. In his ears he thought he heard the hollow echo of her whisper, “We will be together…”.

Barran, Tadhgar, Ulcar