Old Tavern Tales Part I

 

   

     Water poured off the saturated, shrunken figures as they staggering into the old tavern.  The pride and arrogance of the aristocratic gentleman had leached away with the storm.  The formerly proper lady was little more than a shadow; the two children, wraiths.  As the thunder periodically rattled the old windows, the frequent bursts of lightning squeezed through the gaps in the shutters, strobing grotesque shadows on the walls.

     The young serving girl dashed forward to guide the family to a dimly lit corner booth, miserably far from the great fireplace.

     The tavern regulars, who had fallen silent to observe the scene, only partly returned to their former chatter.  The lone traveler leaned forward to catch what he could of their newest dialogue.

     “Very rich and proud,” said a toothless old woman.  “Living up at that great house on the hill.  Loads of servants, which they treat like dirt, while those aristocrats can’t even button their own shoes by themselves!”  She smiled in delight at the thought.

     “Yes,” replied a wiry old man.  “They do make nice pets.  Quite entertaining!”  The whole group stifled laughter at the comment.

     “Keep your voices down.  Keep them down,” said the first woman.

     The traveler shifted his chair to intrude further into the pool of conversation.  “So, why is all this so funny?” he asked, giving a surreptitious nod to the wet creatures in the corner.

      The mob fell silent.  Each glanced at one another, taking a silent vote in regard to letting an outsider join their confidence.  Then the old man gave the traveler a subtle beckoning with his hand.  The traveler shifted even closer.  The group moved in their stools, wrapping all the way around him.  He warily surveyed his new surroundings, feeling the claustrophobic embrace of the mob.

      The old man spoke to the traveler gently, as if he were addressing a child.  “How do you feel towards the likes of those?”  He glanced towards the family.  “Do you view them as your betters?  Maybe your oppressors?”

     As the traveler considered how to answer the question, the old woman hissed, “I would have it no other way.  They are such great sport!”  Another burst of laughter from the group.

     The traveler shivered in alarm.  He could suddenly imagine these people turning on the wretched figures in the corner, robbing them, beating them, drinking their blood.  His effort to force a smile at the old man failed miserably.  “Are you all planning on doing something,” he hesitated, “illegal?”  More laughter.

     The traveler saw the aristocratic gentleman turn for the first time in their direction, watching them with dead eyes.  As the mob hushed itself, and the gentleman turned away, the old man responded, “No, no.  we have already had all the fun we can with that lot.  In fact, we have done them a bit of a service.”

     “That’s right,” chortled the woman.  “We might have even made them human.  Those lit’l ones are certain to have happier lives ‘cuz of us.”

     “Yes sirree,” chimed in another woman.  “We are quite the humanitarians!”

     “And this isn’t the first that I’ve had a role in the game,” proclaimed the old man.  “I’ve lived in several towns, here and in Germany.  Sometimes I was just part of the mob – Oh, I have always enjoyed moving with the pack through the night with a billowing torch in hand – but I have even been blessed to be one of the servants.  That puts a body up close and personal.  You even get to help make the plans, and maybe even cast the spells.”  He basked in the memory of such rich times.

     The traveler’s head spun in bewilderment.  “I am sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.”  He was beginning to suspect that he had the misfortune to stop at a tavern for the insane.

     “Well listen up,” said the toothless woman.  “Let me tell you about my first time.”  She gazed for a moment at the traveler, pushing back through the darkening years to her youth.  “I was just a young thing then.  I had my teeth and was skinny too.  I looked a lot like Mabel then,” she said, pointing to the girl bringing food from the kitchen to the family in the corner.  The traveler could not imagine this rolling blob of a woman ever being anything as sweet and charming as the young Mabel.

     “I had been hired as a governess to teach and care for a boy and a girl; twins, ten years old, they were.”  She paused in memory.  “They were . . . they had their good qualities, but the parents, dang, there was no way those children would grow up into anything better.  What a fate!  The master was always away, heading into London on business, or as the servants said ‘to London on mistress.’”

     “He would come home in a temper.  Nothing was ever good enough.  And then as the evenings would progress, his indulgence in drink made even his harpy of a wife cower in fear.  Fortunately, the house was huge – what else would you expect.  It made for a powerful lot of work for the staff, which the family never appreciated.  Yet, as governess, I was free to roam through the spacious halls and grounds.”

     “It was then that I found out why I had been hired.  The former governess had died.  Her lover, the young chauffer had been killed one night as his carriage overturned while entering the courtyard.  She was hysterical when she found out.  And then they found the body of the other woman in the wreckage.  Well, the governess, what could she do?  There was always the pond.

     "Shortly after I arrived, the children started seeing a pale woman standing in the reeds across the pond -- always, mind you, when it was misty or raining.  Always at a time when they couldn't get too good of a look.  And then they started seeing the dark man in the in the window at night, and sometimes even in the mirror -- a handsome young man with something of a selfish look on his face.  

  "This all happened gradually, and the children weren't scared -- in fact, they seemed to be growing fascinated with the two specters.  I pointed the pale woman out to the cook one rainy day.  Sure enough, she let out such a shriek, and yes, the mistress of the house came running.  She only got one glimpse when the pale woman was gone.  Our little missy denied seeing anything when her mother pressed her hard.  

     "Then came that dark afternoon.  It was a rare occasion when the Master was actually at home.  He came down the staircase when he saw the boy standing in front of the mirror with his hands held flat on the glass.  The dark gentleman was framed within, holding his hands out to the boy.  The Master's scream rivaled that of the old cook.  Naturally, the image in the mirror vanished.  I saw all this as I ran into the hall to give my panicked announcement that the little girl was gone.

  "The Master spied her walking out in the rain, going out across to the pond, where the pale woman stood, watching.  After the predictable array of appropriate parental panic, the family went away on holiday, a long holiday together.  They never came back.”

     “Nice!” exclaimed the old man.  “So how did you wrap it down?”

     “Well, that was the first time I had ever summoned a shade, let alone two shades.  I was just a girl at the time!”

     “What?  You couldn’t put them back down!” laughed a very drunk man.

     “I did need a little help from the cook,” the old woman said in a sullen mutter.

     “Kid stuff,” chuckled the drunk.