Witch from the Sea

We rode a little together, although he wouldn’t allow me to gallop. “Remember my grandson,” had become a catch-phrase. He was pleased. He liked Colum.

“By God,” he said, “you’ve got a man there. And went off and married him in secret, eh.” He slapped his thigh with delight. “To tell you the truth, daughter, I never greatly cared for Fennimore Landor. A good fellow in his way, but no fighting guts. It won’t be like that with your man, I’ll tell you. There’ll be fights a plenty, I doubt not, but remember, you’re your father’s daughter and fight back. Be like your mother. I’ll tell you something—she has the occasional victory.”

I could see that he thought that his marriage was the perfect one. A peaceful union such as I might have expected with Fennimore Landor was in his eyes faintly despicable.

How different it might have been if he had known the truth. We were right to lie to him.

And so we had married early that morning, partaken of the wedding feast and allowed the guests to continue with it while Colum and I left for the journey to Castle Paling. As it was only some fifteen miles from Lyon Court I would not be so far from my family which was a comforting thought; and strangely enough as I rode along with Colum, although I was conscious of a certain fear, my excitement was intense and odd as it may seem I would not have had it otherwise.

He was smiling, well content; and I could not help a little pride because he had been so eager for our wedding. It was nearly three months since that night which had changed my life, but it seemed years ago. I could hardly think of a time when I had not known of Colum’s existence.

“Very soon,” he said, “we shall come to Castle Paling, your home, my bride. There we shall live happily ever after.”

There was a hint of mockery in his voice but I did not heed it. It was a beautiful day, the kind we get sometimes in the West Country in February, the sort of day when it seems spring is tired of waiting and is making a premature appearance. There were tufts of new leaves on the elder bushes and yellow flowers of the coltsfoot on the banks. In the fields there was a spattering of crimson-tipped daisies and as we forded a shallow stream I noticed the purple catkins of the alder trees there, which toned with the butterbur flowers blooming near the water.

I was smiling and he said: “So you are reconciled to your marriage so hastily enforced by circumstance?”

“I was thinking of the beauty of the countryside.”

“It is said,” he reminded me, “that when one is in love the grass is greener and the whole world becomes a more beautiful place.”

“I am inclined to think it is the spring,” I said.

“I shall soon convince you what a fortunate woman you are. You will one day bless the night you first came to Castle Paling.”

I was silent and he went on: “I shall have to insist that you answer me when I speak to you.”

“I did not think your comment needed an answer.”

“It does indeed. You must answer fervently that you will always remember that night as the happiest of your life … to that time.”

“I did not think I should begin my married life by lying to my husband.”

“Nor would you if you said that, for it is true.”

“How could I say I remember when I remember nothing?”

“You do remember. There was much of which you were aware.”

“Do you mind if we do not speak of it?”

“I am determined to indulge you.”

He sang as we rode along, the same hunting song I had heard before.

“It sounds joyous,” I said.

“It is the song of the hunter bringing home his prey.”

“It is fitting then.”

“Oh entirely so.”

Then he laughed in the loud way I was becoming accustomed to and for some reason, although I feigned indignation, my spirits were lifted.

Castle Paling! My home! It rose before us, grim, forbidding but immensely exciting. I looked up at its grey stone walls which had stood for four hundred years and doubtless would stand five hundred more and even beyond that. There was an invincible durability in those strong walls. They had been built to defend and they would go on doing so.

Those walls forming a plinth at the base were made to withstand the picks and battering-rams of an enemy. There were four towers, two facing the land and two the sea, battlemented and with their look-outs and their apertures for pouring burning pitch down on to the heads of intruders. The window-openings on the low levels were few—narrow slits which could be well guarded to prevent intruders.

“Welcome to Castle Paling, wife,” he said, and together we rode under the portcullis and into a courtyard.

As if by magic several grooms appeared. Colum leaped from his horse, threw his reins to a groom and lifted me down from my horse.

Side by side we crossed the courtyard and as we reached the small door in the great stone wall, he lifted me up in his arms and stepped into the castle.

“The three of us together,” he whispered.

Then he set me on my feet.

We mounted a narrow staircase and came to the hall, which was lofty with a gallery surrounding its upper level.