Until I Wake
Recurrence
- 1-3 -
~ * ~
Hail, fair sun, Spirit of the Day.
Rise of the morn to light my way.
~ *~
When morning finally came, the dreaming Katrina awoke to the fresh warmth that bathed her face, he eyelids no longer providing the darkness in which she had once feared. She stretched her limbs awkwardly; ridding her body of the ache her sleeping positions had wrought upon her. It was obvious that her sleep had been cluttered with dreams of a tall, dark man whom she had grown so fond of.
Placing her childishly bare feet on the wooden floor beneath her, Katrina flung open her cupboard, snatching the nearest gown off of its hanger. She dressed in haste, eager to get to the kitchen and begin her first day's work. She chuckled at the thought of being so motherly, and that she herself was finally put to use that didn't involve sewing… at least not at the moment.
Skipping through the door like an innocent, the lady Van Tassle placed her hands on her hips, thoughts brewing in her womanly feeble mind.
"What a place to practice my spells," she giggled at her ideas, eyeing the stove and fire pit. "But for now, breakfast will have to do."
~ * ~
Clasping the last button to his short-coat, Young Masbath glanced into the small mirror beside his dresser, straightening his hair mildly. Today, Master Crane would be taking Katrina and he out to town, as he himself had so persistently requested. And to be out in such public, the boy wanted very much to look nice, so as to fit in with the adults he was accompanying.
Approving of his reflection, Masbath hurriedly tidied his bed and desk, momentarily admiring the book his caretaker had given him the night before. After Ichabod had taken his leave, Jonathon had dug indiscreetly into the text, every once in a while turning to the cover to marvel at the burgundy leather, a picture stamped well into the surface. Now, it sat, the dust from its binding and pages residing on the floor, the edges all straightened and the wrinkly old paper he had written upon now guarding his place.
Finally leaving his reverie, Masbath made his way down the hall and towards the kitchen, immediately welcomed by the fresh smell of eggs, warm bread and tea.
Entering the heated room, he drew Katrina's attention with a slight bow, allowing her to obediently usher him to his seat. With a kind smile and a wink, she set the boy a plate and filled him a small cup of steaming tea.
"You slept well, I jest?" she questioned, settling beside him. Masbath nodded, graciously shoving a spoonful of egg into his mouth.
"Though I was roused half the night reading," he returned, swallowing the bite. His face brightened at her quizzical expression, enjoying the opportunity for a story. "Master Crane offered it to me last night, the subject of anatomy. I barely got through the first chapter, the script is so finely printed."
"Anatomy?" Katrina sniffed, wiping her hands on her dress despite her manners. "What is this 'anatomy'? Has Ichabod been filling you with his sciences already?"
Masbath returned her laugh. "Maybe so, but I was never so grateful."
Footsteps sounded in the hallway before the kitchen, breaking the two's conversation.
"Well, he's finally come to join us," Katrina stated, rising from her seat as the man of the house entered the small dining area. His hair was tousled, but nonetheless neat, and he wore his official uniform, collar, boots and all.
"Good morning Ichabod," Katrina announced, meeting his side and giving him an unexpected peck on his cheek. Ichabod nodded, a blush rising to his pallid cheeks by the show of emotion as he acknowledged her and the boy.
"You are ready to face the High Constable, I hope," he lamented, his face holding an expression of grief. It was the others' turn to nod, wearing both bravery and nervousness in their eyes.
"This High Constable'…?" Katrina began, her mind reeling with concern.
"Is whom I answer to," Ichabod concluded for her, running a hand offhandedly through his thick hair. "I doubt he will have any… tribulations with you two."
"And you suspect he will with you?" Katrina threw back, her hands resting on her hips.
"Why do you suppose he sent me to Sleepy Hollow in the first place?" Ichabod answered, a broken grin on his lips. Leaving to retrieve the lady's coat, the man was all too glad to escape the awkward atmosphere that had filled the room.
Sighing, Katrina turned to Masbath. "I suppose he won't settle for breakfast."
~ * ~
A strange sense of respect flushed through Young Masbath's body as he walked alongside Ichabod, their destination reluctantly in mind. By the regret in the man's tone, Jonathan could tell that he hadn't been looking forward to his return to New York. Even more so, it told him that this Constabulary he worked at did not even give him the time of day. He discovered conscientiously that these men he was about to face had wrought Hell upon the very man who had taken him under his wing, not to mention saved their very lives and rid a small, forgotten town of a murderous witch and her demon.
Finally at the threshold of the Municipal Building, which Masbath had recalled from what Ichabod had told him the day before, the boy was bewildered by not only its size, but also the desolate surroundings that greeted them, save a man dressed identical to Ichabod. He peered behind himself to the streets, also barren of people.
"Do people fear this place so much?" he asked himself, remembering the words of Constable Crane. He had told him about the 'injustice' the constables within showed, and how many were wrongfully arrested and tortured with lack of evidence. He recalled the Reverend Steenwyk's complaints about disturbing the dead after Ichabod had removed the passed-on from their graves, but here, the dead weren't even given their final respects. No matter if they were found, their chests torn to shreds or brutally beaten, they were merely burned, a proper burial not even considered.
Masbath's eyes slowly focused to the darkened room as he and Katrina followed Ichabod inside, away from the bright peacefulness of day. The hollow echo of their footsteps reverberated eerily along the hardwood floors, which seemed louder than even those of their new home. Passersby also donning the constable's same uniform each exchanged surprised glances with the other at Ichabod's sight, as well as vulgar looks for Katrina. Looking ahead, there was a door, which portrayed the shadowy gateway to Hell.
Entering a large room, a high ceiling towering above, Young Masbath looked uneasily about, the benches the only furnishing. It was lighter in here due to the massive windows lining the walls, but it, too, was empty and uninviting, just like the outside had been. Before the three was a large stage, a bench and desk heading it, awaiting the High Constable. Meeting Ichabod's unsteady gaze, Masbath took a seat at a bench, tugging on Katrina's sleeve so as she would do the same.
"Where is this contemptuous man?" Katrina muttered, watching Ichabod nervously wait beside them. His face was set, his gaze forcedly stern, and Katrina swore she could see more bravery in him than she had ever truly seen. Silently, she reached up and clasped his hand out of view of the younger, grinning as the man jumped slightly beside her at the fragile contact. Their eyes met, and her trusting ones eased the sorrow from his restless gaze.
The slamming of a door wrenched Ichabod's hand from hers, all three of them jumping despite themselves. A man, graying and more austere than any man both Katrina and Masbath had ever laid eyes upon, followed by the one Katrina knew to be the Burgomaster, took a seat at the tall desk, an antique gavel in hand. Leaving their sides, Ichabod took his place before the bench, his hands clasped tenaciously behind his back.
Eyeing him down, his brow furrowed, the High Constable looked straight through him, eager to get this case of ridiculous sorts from the back of his mind.
"Constable Crane, you have returned…?" he boomed, leaning on his elbows on the desk before him, in spite of his manners. Ichabod nodded, keeping his gaze locked with the older man's for assurance. If at any moment his gaze drifted, Ichabod knew he would falter.
"I have."
"And what do you have to report?" the man continued, his thick eyebrows rising in amusement. Ichabod drew a silent breath and recalled his story.
"The murder has been put to rest," he stated solemnly, although he knew it wasn't the best way to begin.
"You mean to say that you did nit bring him back for our better judgment? For our good justice?" the Burgomaster asked, searching for defeat on Ichabod's face. Once again, Ichabod merely nodded in return.
"Like I said, she had been put to rest."
"She?" The higher man asked, his knuckles turning white with impatience. "The one who brutally murdered those three was a woman?"
"It was, but she did not kill only three. She disposed of eleven, maybe more to my recollection, as well caused the town to flee in fear."
Shaking his head, the High Constable's eyes hardened on Ichabod. "And how did she go about murdering these people? There couldn't be a logical way for this woman to kill eleven or more people in that small town without being caught."
Swallowing hard, Ichabod readied himself for mocking. "She had not done it herself, save two: her sister and servant. In truth, her accomplice was her resurrection of a demon to commit these evil doings for her."
Gaping in shock, the High Constable paused, unable to collect what might have seemed true. "You, a man of such things as science and reason, truly believe in this story of yours?"
Ichabod nodded his head abruptly. "Reason deceives us; conscience, never. I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes."
"And what of this demon?" the elder continued. "He was notable to face judgment?" He fortunately did not hear the comical snort emitted from Young Masbath at the thought of a demon in court.
Crane shook his head warily. "He returned to Hell after reclaiming his skull, sir."
"Reclaiming his skull…" the High Constable muttered, leaning back in his chair in disbelief, while the Burgomaster unconvincingly suppressed his laughter. "That caused him to cease his rampage?"
"Yes," Ichabod assured him, none too angrily. "The woman behind the murders, Lady Van Tassle, wife to Baltus Van Tassle of Sleepy Hollow, had stolen the skull from his grave. And with it, she could govern the Hessian's actions."
"This Hessian," the High Constable asked. "He is the murderer as well?"
"Precisely."
Shaking his head in disgust, the High Constable frowned upon the younger man. "Constable Crane, do you have any proof that this nonsense story is true?"
"He does," Katrina's voice drifted from behind Ichabod, startling all three men. She stood from her seat, dragging Masbath along with her, and joined Ichabod's side. "We are his living proof."
"And who might you be?" the elder asked politely. Katrina curtsied, followed by a short bow from Masbath.
"I am Katrina Van Tassle, daughter and step-daughter to Baltus and Lady Van Tassle. And this," she gestured to Masbath, "is our ward, Jonathan Masbath."
"You are step-daughter to this murderous woman?" the High Constable repeated, his curiosity peaked. Katrina nodded solemnly, nervousness from Ichabod flooding her senses.
"I am, and what Constable Crane is telling you is what truly happened, your Honor. It may seem incredibly hard to believe, but do you doubt three to none?"
"Very well," he returned, sighing in forced defeat. "Whatever puts this supposed nonsense behind me. My next question is about your methods. Did they help any in this case of yours?"
Ichabod nodded with pride, forcing back a sarcastic grin. "It made an extreme difference, sir."
"For example?"
Ichabod racked his mind. "Biological studies of wounds before and after death, autopsies of the deceased bodies, and scientific examinations of the crime scenes." He wouldn't admit that, in the end, science was not needed to put the Hessian back to rest.
The Head Constable rose to his feet, wiping his brow of sweat that hadn't been there before. "Ghosts and goblins have corrupted your mind, Crane," he began halfheartedly. "But if this young lady speaks the truth and agrees that you and your methods were actually a blessing to the serial killer of Sleepy Hollow…"
"I do, sir. I still breathe life in thanks to Constable Crane." Katrina forced her gaze to lock with the higher constable, then to the Burgomaster beside him. The High Constable nodded his head once, and then tapped his gavel harshly on the wooden block nailed to his desk.
"I grant you permission, Constable Ichabod Crane, to enlighten us of these methods of yours," he announced, receiving a distressed, but hidden look from the Burgomaster. He smiled slightly to the three. "After you take your leave of the Constabulary."
Ichabod jumped at the man's words. "My leave, sir?"
His smile widened. "I do not believe a man of your stature needs be out amongst the rebels of justice. You can serve your duty here, as Burgomaster."
The former Burgomaster, head dizzied from the announcement, slumped onto the bench behind him, while Ichabod kept his composure. Yet inside, he knew he had won against the man who had named him a heathen. He had proven himself and his methods of science and reason, though not so much the reason, to his retrospection.
~ * ~
Once outside, Masbath couldn't help but jump with joy and shout congratulations. His face still stern, Ichabod offered the enraptured boy a smile, unable to belief his own luck.
"I owe my success to you both," he stated as Katrina clung to his arm, a wide smile upon her lips. Masbath beamed with pride, regaining his manner and falling into step beside the two.
"Perhaps," Katrina countered, lettering her fingers wander from his arm to his hand. "As evidence, we did quite well. But what are we to you now?"
Unable to answer, Ichabod kept silent, fearing the glance of the woman beside him. Young Masbath, dismissing any false attitudes, continued with his cheery nature, raising his boots higher off the snow than any other lad.
~ * ~