Bruar's Rest

sound. But that didn’t satisfy Bull, he had to finish the job. ‘Get me a hatchet Hawen,’ he called out. Hawen seemed to live for every command from his friend and soon stood at his side, holding out a big butcher’s hatchet. ‘There ye go, bully boy,’ he said, like a teacher’s pet offering an apple
    ‘Don’t do it,’ someone screamed from the crowd. ‘Leave ’im for the muskries to find, Bull,’ another voice called out. ‘Come on now, Bull, that’s a good lad; King of the Gypsies forever, eh Bull?’
    ‘Shut your coward mouths and watch how I does me work.’
    Rays from the rising moon caught the blade for an instant as it sliced into the exposed neck. Like a stone the head wobbled and rolled to rest awkwardly at Bull’s feet. He lifted it up, blood dripping from the gaping neck. ‘Look, the lot of ye, this is what makes me King. I does what I likes, to whoever I want!’
    Megan buried her head into Lucy’s chest. ‘Please tell me that’s a trick, and Durin will get up and both take a bow.’
    ‘What ye saw was what ye got, but try to blot it out. The only good thing is, Bull will not hang around, there’ll be a big price on him after this. But Mother Foy might decide it best to move away from here anyway. I’ll have to go myself, it must be nearing midnight.’
    ‘Lucy, take care of yourself. I don’t want to stay here now, so in the morning I’ll take my chances alone on the road.’ She watched as Lucy disappeared up the quarryside. Down below the crowd had gone, including Bull and Hawen, leaving Moses’ body and his head for the resident gypsies to dispose of. She felt disgusted and sick. One by one she watched the other women return, then silently followed them down.
    Old Mother Foy opened her wagon door. Her guests walked past Moses’ remains, shaking their heads as if they had seen it all before. Ruth and Anna called up to her, ‘Megan, give us a hand to bury big Moses before word reaches the law.’
    ‘No,’ she screamed. ‘I want no part in that. I’m away tomorrow, hell to the lot of you.’
    Her words trailed off as she ran away and onto the moor. Tears welled in her young eyes. ‘I want my Bruar,’ she called inwardly, ‘I want my man.’
    She seemed to wander the moorland for ages, the earlier horrors bursting into her innermost thoughts. That awful demon that derived such pleasure from sucking hedgehog’s brains and severing heads was stalking the depth of her troubled mind. If she fell blindly into heather clumps once, she fell a dozen times. How could such a peaceful day have so bitter an ending, she told herself, hardly believing the sick events she had witnessed. Then, while lying in the undergrowth she heard raised voices, men shouting, and a woman too. How close they were she had no idea, and with only the odd glimpse of moonlight peeping through an ever-thickening cloudy sky, it was difficult to see anything. Still, she had to get nearer. With her knowledge of moor terrain, she knew how to slither through thick heather. Soon a narrow sheep track could be felt beneath her feet, and she edged closer to the raised voices. ‘Lucy—that’s Lucy,’ she thought.
    The wind rose and whistled around her; suddenly the track lost itself, pushing a spur of rock in her way. She huddled behind it. The voices grew louder, but so did the night wind. Apart from Lucy, she couldn’t make out who the others were. Mr Newton would no doubt be there, but who were the others, and why the arguing? Someone was full of rage, that was certain.
    ‘You pay up, or else I tell the madam everything, do you hear me?’
    ‘Tell her, if that’s all you’re good for. I’ve parted with enough money and won’t pay you a single penny more. Now get out of our way, you filthy dog.’
    ‘That must be Lucy’s man friend,’ she thought. Clear moonlight scattered yellow light across the sky. Now she saw four figures: Lucy and three others.
    ‘Get him,’ shouted one.
    ‘Don’t hurt her. Lucy run home, save yourself, don’t worry about me.’
    Megan held her breath, heart beating like a drum. There was something terrible taking place, but earlier events had taken their toll and she curled back behind her rock, too afraid to look. Noises indicated a fight, she could hear thudding, shouting, and then silence.
    ‘Did you kill ’im?’ some one asked, panting.
    ‘Sure as stone I did. What about her?’
    ‘Consider it done, easy as snaring a rabbit it’ll be.’
    ‘Good, now strip