AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own the characters (Miramax does) or the fairy tales referenced in this story. I'm not making one single penny off this story. (pauses) I wouldn't mind borrowing the boys for awhile though…
1) This is rated TEEN for a reason. There are some very adult themes and situations and angst in here and some violence. It deals with rather dark issues relating to familial rifts and deaths of family members (if you saw the movie, you know to what I'm referring). Can't handle, please don't read. 2) Although there are religious references in the story, nothing is based on any real people or cults. They were completely fabricated for plot purposes and if you see similarities to any real people or cults, you are squinting way too hard, if you know what I mean. Do not try anything you see in this story, boys and girls, because it's all made up stuff. So, if anyone flames for reasons of dark themes or religious references, I'm going to ignore it because I've given fair warning. 3) The opinions expressed by characters do not reflect the opinion of this writer. See Chapter One for the rest of the notes.
3
So it was that Will Grimm left the church in a decidedly darker spirit than he'd arrived. His mood was not improved when he noticed, as he walked down the church steps and made his way back to his horse, that he was drawing stares—no longer apathetic, but of undisguised suspicion---from the villagers and passerbys. The goat herder boy whom he had paid for directions stood among a small knot of people, chattering and gesturing in the general direction of Will. He'd made the mistake of introducing himself to the boy when he'd given him that coin. It would seem the boy had shared Will's identity, and word had spread with impressive speed.
Guilt by relation to the 'madman'. It was a familiar feeling, and for a moment Will felt again like a little boy, back in his hometown, drawing looks---sometimes pitying, sometimes scornful, sometimes compassionate, sometimes outright derisive---as if his brother's eccentricities were somehow a trait of the blood shared by his older sibling. Years had passed after Sister's death, but Will was never able to walk down the street without catching the words 'magic beans' or 'the brother's not quite right' whispered in his wake by the townsfolk.
The silence that greeted them whenever Mother forced Will to escort his younger brother on an errand was worse. It was like a living presence, that silence, so overpowering that Will heard his own blood coursing in his ears and felt the heat of it burn his face. He would automatically, if unintentionally, find himself walking a few steps ahead of his sibling, never uttering a word in the younger boy's defense, as if the distance were a wall shielding him from sharing in the stares focused on Jacob.
Even now, as a grown man far from any living soul who knew of the terrible tragedy caused by his brother's naivety, Will was still at the center of scorn created by Jacob's blunders.
Pointedly ignoring the villagers' gawking, Will hurried to make his way back to his horse. He saw no point in making further inquiries among the villagers about Jacob. Would they tell him which way Jacob had gone even if they knew? Doubtful. Will's only decision now was whether to seek a room for the night or to head out now and hope to reach a more receptive village before sunset…
"Will, wake up!" Mother's voice had not roused ten-year-old Will from his slumber, for the boy had been feigning sleep. He'd dove back into his blankets as soon as he'd heard her light step approaching the bedroom so she wouldn't know he'd been listening at the door. "Wake up, Will. Gather your things---quickly. Only what you need," Mother had ordered as she shook his shoulder. "Come on, and help your brother as well."
Her tone alarmed Will. Wrapped in blankets on his side of the room they shared, Jacob was also awake and watched with wide eyes as their Mother moved to the window. She stared out into the night as if expecting something or someone.
"What's going on?" Will had asked her. In truth, the boy had a fair idea already. He'd been awakened a short time earlier by the sound of raised voices in the other room of their two-room home. Mother had pulled the door to their bedroom closed. She never did that. She slept in the living area, and she left the door open at night so the heat from the fireplace would keep her children war---and also, to hear if they called her, lest one of her sons grew ill like Sister had and needed her during the night.
The sound of the door shutting had brought both Will and Jacob immediately awake. Jacob had opened his mouth to say something, but Will gestured for him to keep quiet. Will had padded, silent as a mouse, to the keyhole and tried to peer through that small opening to see who was talking in such curt tones to their Mother…and at this late hour. He recognized a few faces---the seamstress who mended clothing for the villagers, a peddler who sold fruits in the marketplace, and the town's doctor. What was he doing there? Will wondered. Mother hated the man.
It was the doctor who had Mother's full attention. Mother had her arms crossed, defiant though she looked like a cornered animal. Her stance was the mirror of Jacob's whenever he was confronted by a disapproving adult or by his angry older brother. On occasion, Mother even brushed at her ear the way Jacob did when he was nervous.
"You lost your own daughter," the doctor was saying. "The boy spent the last of your money on magic beans instead of coming to me!"
Mother shook her head, denying the accusation. "No. I've told you all---over and over---Jacob was robbed of our money before he could summon you. Blame yourself for not coming to the aid of a sick child when there was no money in it for you if you must blame someone. There were no 'magic beans'."
"The boy told me about the magic beans with his own mouth!" the peddler contradicted her. "Said he bought them with the money he got for your cow!"
'Jacob', Will grimaced.
Mother turned the weight of her glare against the peddler. "As you only just reminded me, Jacob is only a boy…and is quite fond of making up stories besides that."
"Precisely," the doctor jumped in. "Have you seen what he writes in that book of his?"
Mother frowned, her displeasure mounting. "Have you?"
"My boy, Hollis, has," the seamstress informed Mother. "Said it was full of all kinds of evil stories 'bout witchcraft and magic. What's a boy Jacob's age doing writing blasphemous things like that? Got a demon in him that one! I have a mind to call the priest, but the doctor wouldn't let me."
If this news had shocked their Mother, she didn't show it. "Your son was the one who tried to steal my son's book?" Mother raised an eyebrow. "Well, now I know who to thank for Jacob's bloody nose and missing teeth, don't I?"
Will cringed. He had seen Hollis when he'd taken Jacob's book, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to intervene, thinking Jacob needed to learn how people were going to react if he insisted on...well, on being weird. It hadn't been a fair fight—Hollis was five years older and at least twelve inches taller than Jacob. Hollis, seeing what was in the book while effortlessly keeping it out of reach of its owner, had given the book to the nearest adult…the peddler who stood in their home now.
"What are they saying?" Jacob asked in a whisper.
Will hissed a shushing noise at him. "You've got us in trouble again, Jake, that's what they're saying! Now, be quiet so I can hear!" Jacob flinched as if Will had struck him, but he obediently asked no more questions.
Sure enough, the peddler was piping up: "The boy's not right here---" He pointed to his own temple. Then he rolled up his pant leg to display a large bruise on his shin. "Look what he did when I tried to take away that evil book!"
"His stories aren't evil. They're fairy tales. He's very creative for his age," Mother defended her son.
"We've all tried to help because you've been raising these boys alone. Children make mistakes, of course they do," the doctor said gently, trying to be delicate, "but…it's been three years since your daughter's death and Jacob isn't any better. The more time that passes, the more he sinks into his own world. You must see it, too. This new fascination with…demonic subjects…I think the boy's gone beyond your ability to handle."
Mother's ears went blood red. She uncrossed her arms, but her hands were balled in tight fists. "Respectfully, sir, I can tend to my own house."
"He thinks those stories are real!" The doctor's tone wasn't so gentle anymore.
"He was playing at the cemetery, I saw him," the seamstress said.
"Taking flowers to his sister's grave. Is that offensive to you as well?" Mother reprimanded the woman.
The peddler would not be ignored. "I caught him at the river---he was talking to a fish! Said its name was 'Ariel'!"
The doctor had gotten his temper back under control and tried again, "We strongly advise that you burn that book…"
"Before he brings a curse down on all of us," the seamstress agreed.
"Please, Gard, do not give voice to such things," the doctor chastened the seamstress before addressing Mother again. "Burn the book. After that…it might be best if you considered---well, there are people who could help young Jacob."
If he was expecting resistance from Mother, he wasn't disappointed. Mother's face went from bright red to ashen in the blink of an eye. "No one is taking my son away," her voice trembled.
In the tiny bedroom, Will grumbled an oath that would have earned a mouthful of soap if his mother had heard.
"You need to consider what's best for Jacob…and for Will," the doctor tried again.
"Get out of my home," Mother's anger was back, full force. She pointed to the door, all pretenses of courtesy abandoned. Will noticed that she had maneuvered herself so that she was standing between the group and the room where her sons were supposed to be sleeping.
"This affects all of us. We don't want to bring down the wrath of the Lord on us for not doing the right thing," the seamstress argued all the way to the door. "You've had years to teach that boy what's right and what's not, but you haven't. We had to handle it ourselves."
Mother's tone was barely a whisper when she asked. "You did…what did you do?"
'Gard' jutted out her chin. "Told the proper people, that's what I did! It was the right thing to do."
Will didn't know what that meant, but it was apparent that Mother did. "You what! How could you!" she screamed at the woman. Gard retreated a step at the cry, and even the peddler dove for protection behind the doctor. Mother bodily shoved the woman out the door. Will had never seen such fury from Mother.
"I wasn't aware what she'd done until she came to me this evening," the doctor apologized. "But perhaps it was best…it spares you the pain of having to…"
Mother wouldn't raise her hand against a healer, but she gestured for him to follow the seamstress out the door. "My son is not your responsibility! None of you!" Mother snapped at them. "Leave us alone!" With that, she slammed the door in their faces and slid the heavy bolt into place to lock it. Only then did she slump against the door, her shoulders shaking, her hands trembling. She didn't move from the spot for a very long time. When she finally stepped away from the door, Will saw the stain of tears on her face.
Mother's gaze fell on the door to the boys' room. Her trembled ceased. She wiped her eyes dry. Resolutely, she began stuffing her few possessions into a bag. When she'd finished, she doused the fire in the hearth. Then she'd started walking towards the bedroom door.
Will scrambled back into the blankets, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. He gestured wildly for Jacob to lay back down in his own corner of the room. Understanding, his younger brother dove beneath his own covers and squeezed his own eyes shut just as she'd opened the door.
The boys' meager belongings were collected in a hurry, piled into one small bag, which Mother handed to Will. Then, they were bundled into their coats. "Where are we going?" Will asked.
"Away from here," Mother answered.
She checked to be certain they'd forgotten nothing important in their hurried packing. The only item left in the room was Jacob's book. Seeing Mother staring at it, Jacob fidgeted a bit, not knowing what she intended to do with it, and fought the instinct to snatch it up protectively. He waited, as did Will, as Mother retrieved the journal. She pressed the large book into Jacob's hands, and he let out the breath he'd been holding.
"I'm sorry," Jacob apologized. He wasn't sure what kind of trouble they were in that was making Mother want to run away, but he knew it was his fault. Will had said so.
Mother brushed his cheek with one hand, her way of saying all was forgiven. "I know, love."
Maybe she wasn't angry at the trouble his brother had caused, but Will was. "I don't want to go. When are we coming back?"
"I don't know, Will!" Mother had spoken more harshly than she'd meant to, and she also brushed his cheek, this time in a gesture of apology.
She was interrupted by the pounding of hooves and the squeak of wheels from the street. Mother hurried back into the darkened larger room and peeked out the window. Again, her face went pale.
"Who is it?" Will asked.
"It's no one." She was lying, he could tell. "Time to leave, boys. Out the window if you would. Quickly." Mother had ushered the two boys out the window of their room, which opened onto the alley behind their house. She handed their bags through the window and then followed them out. Once in the alley, she'd taken them by the hands and guided them swiftly and silently through the back streets and into the night. Will had glanced over his shoulder as they left. In the moonlight, he saw the silhouette of a carriage in front of their house and the shadows of unfamiliar men. His last memory of that house was hearing pounding that sounded like it came from their front door.
Caught up in his reverie, Will didn't notice that the path to his horse was blocked until he'd bodily collided with one of the villagers. He was twice startled---first by the unexpected collision, then again when he found himself nose-to-nose with the withered, leathery face of a beggar woman. Rather, he guessed it was a woman by the fact that she seemed to have no Adam's apple and might have had bosoms beneath the baggy rags she wore (her clothes might have been a blue dress at some point, but they were too faded to tell now). The beard on her chin, however, made it impossible to be certain. It was a reddish color, that beard, and her curly hair might have been red at one time, before it had been caked with dirt. Her entire body was covered in the stuff upon second glance. He held his breath against the odor of unwashed skin and clothing.
She stuck a bony hand towards Will's face before he'd had a moment to recover from the startle of running into her and grinned. He almost didn't hear her ask, "Alms?" He was busy marveling that her rotting teeth were pointed and sharp as a cat's. A cat, yes, that's what the beggar woman resembled---a dirty cat. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Alms? For scaring the life out of me?" Will declined. "Thank you, no." He pushed past her, trying again to reach his horse, preferably without further harassment.
Behind him, the woman clucked her tongue at him. "Not much like your brother, are you Wilhelm Grimm?"
"Again, thank you." Will did not look back at the woman…not until it dawned on him that she'd called him by his full name. He'd only introduced himself to the boy and Father Traugott as 'Will', not 'Wilhelm'.
"Good boy, that one," she continued. Her voice also brought to mind cats…specifically, the hissing noises the creatures made. "Kind boy. Always said you should never pass by a beggar---you never know when it might be one of the good Lord's angels in disguise come to test your charity. Brought me a shiny new coin every morning when he was here. Promised me a kiss, too, but I guess he forgot before he left."
"Trying to save the damsel in distress. Yes, that would be Jake," Will said dryly. Even if it was clearly a lost cause…as it would seem to have been in this vagrant woman's case. "Tell me, how did you know my name, ma'am?"
She grinned. "Name's Lorelei."
'Lorelei', which meant 'alluring'. At least she had a sense of humor. Will shook his head.
"I told you, I talked to your brother every morning for months. He never wanted nothing for those shiny coins except to bend my ear with those stories of his. I'd have been glad to give him more than my ear for those pretty coins, if you know what I mean," Lorelei grinned cheekily.
The mental image her suggestion created was enough to cause Will an entirely new set of nightmares. He had to swallow rising bile at the very notion. "I'm sure that I don't," he answered. It was a good attempt at a con, he'd grant her that much. "A grand story, indeed, 'Lorelei', very charming. Unfortunately, you failed to notice that I've just been speaking to Father Traugott, and he's already told me that Jacob was only here for a day or two. That would make it impossible for my brother to bring you coins of any kind for weeks, as you claim he did." Will swung up onto his horse and turned his thoughts back to wondering whether to seek a room for the night in this unfriendly village.
The beggar crossed her arms and if hugging herself and still grinned as if she were smarter than the young man. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I know all sorts of things polite folks like the priest don't know," Lorelei insisted. "He was here five weeks. They was all after your brother like he was possessed or something. I knew he wasn't crazy or wicked. He was just like me---knew all sorts of things polite folks didn't oughta know. Good boy, he was. He didn't talk to those cowards…" She gestured to the villagers, who were pretending not to be watching Will and the vagrant as they went about their errands. Lorelei stamped a foot in the direction of some who were less subtle about staring and they hurried on their way. "…but he talked to me. Old ghosts don't scare me away like they scare the rest of these cowards. Mr. Jacob called me a princess. No one ever talks to me; they just throw coins so they don't have to look at me."
Will sighed, extremely skeptical at the woman's claims. "And how is it possible that he was here five weeks without anyone else seeing him? Did he sleep in a cave and go without food?" He gathered up the reins, prepared to leave the 'princess' and her lies to the next poor soul who came along.
Lorelei sensed that, and stepped forward to take a grip on the horse's bridle. "I didn't say no one else saw him, did I?"
"So you didn't. Good day, princess." Will tried to escape.
Not relinquishing her hold on the bridle, the beggar reached into her pocket with her free hand. "Jacob gave me this last time I saw him. To thank me for my help. I tried to sell it, but it's not worth nothing being broken like it is." With a flourish, she held up Jacob's watch…the watch he'd inherited from their father when Jacob was only a toddler. Will knew it was Father's because it was etched with the same seal the Grimms used on their letters, the family seal.
He tried to reach down and grab the watch, but Lorelei gracefully stepped out of his reach. Will considered climbing off his horse and ripping it out of her hands. "The only thing that proves is that you're a pickpocket."
Insulted, Lorelei spun on her heel and marched away. Against his better judgment, Will dismounted and chased after the beggar. "Wait a minute!"
The vagrant woman halted, grinning smugly as Will hurried to catch up with her. He didn't know whether to believe a word she said, but something in his gut told him there was at least a kernel of truth to her story. Reluctantly, he pulled three coins from his pocket. He offered her the first one. "For the watch," he explained as he pressed the coin into her filthy hand.
She accepted with the faintest nod and surrendered the watch. Will tucked it safely into his coat. He held the second coin, just out of her reach. "To tell me about the 'old ghosts' everyone is so frightened of."
The beggar woman eyed the second coin greedily. "Don't know much about them. They was here a long time ago, that's what I know. Did lots of---unnatural---rituals up in those hills. The priests burned all the scrolls what had anything to do with them. Mostly, parents just say their ghosts still roam around those hills to scare bad children. Mr. Jacob thought the ghosts were real enough. He said he was going to dig them up, too."
That explains why he made so many friends here, Will filled in the blanks. Lorelei waited, and he handed over the second coin. With even more hesitation---I'll be begging alms myself before I find Jacob for what this chase is costing, he mused---Will held up the third coin. "To point out whoever is pretending not to have seen Jacob."
Lorelei's face brightened with a grin that was impish. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and pushed it away, refusing the proffered money. "That I'll do for fun," she said with a wink.
A scant ten minutes elapsed before Will not only grew convinced of the beggar woman's purported friendship with Jacob but also began to understand his brother's charity toward the woman. The 'invisibility' bestowed on her by the populace's ignoring her allowed Lorelei to watch their comings and goings as she pleased without being noticed. Her memory of every villager's name and every place they'd set foot was accurate to the point of near perfection. Will guessed it would have caused no small amount of consternation to those going about unsavory business such as adultery and thieving if they had known their every move had not escaped her attention. Had they been aware of this, she'd probably be in peril for her life…
…Just like his brother had been when he'd sparked their anger.
She led Will through the alleys, circumventing most of the crowds in the marketplace, pausing only now and then to point out certain locations or persons. They crouched behind a small stone wall, from which part of the marketplace and the road leading out of the village were visible. "That sour-looking fellow there…" Lorelei gestured to a man selling poultry and vegetables near the edge of the market. "…gets here before all the rest of them. I've seen him and Mr. Jacob talking when they thought no one else was around. Sold Mr. Jacob a bag of food every Sunday morning while the rest of the folks was in church. Charged him three times what he should for it, too."
Did he? Will narrowed his eyes. He'd have to make a point of discussing the matter of cheating his brother with that peddler.
"Mr. Jacob would be gone before anyone else had set up shop. That's why the others don't recollect your brother being around here long---he kept out of their sight real good." Lorelei shook her head about the necessity of Jacob sneaking around. "Superstitious rot, all of them."
Very clever, Jacob. Will grinned. Clearly, his brother knew who to ally with when he needed to.
The beggar forgot about the peddler and shifted her focus to the road. She waited, still as a statue, and watched. Will crouched beside her, growing more anxious as the sun sank towards the horizon. It would be dark in another hour. He no longer had to debate whether to ride out of the village or stay; his decision now was whether it would be possible for the 'madman's brother' to find lodging or simpler to sleep on a convenient bench for the night. The air was already growing colder, which gave the latter option a distinct lack of appeal.
Finally, impatience got the better of him. "What is it we're waiting for?"
She held up her hand. "There, settle down, now. It's not a 'what', it's who, and he'll be along any minute now."
Three minutes, in fact, passed before a shift in the woman's stance signaled that something had sparked her interest. "That's him. Hob's his name," she said. Will peered over the wall to see for himself. It was a man all right, perhaps in his thirties. He was tanned dark brown and lugged a cart and shovel along the road they'd been watching all afternoon. Beside Will, Lorelei's posture tensed like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. Will almost pitied the clueless wretch with the cart…almost, had not his brother's welfare been in question.
Hob, on the other hand, had nothing on his mind that afternoon besides the desperate need for a hot bath. Earning a living with his shovel was back-breaking, more so with each passing year. He'd been digging wells that day for the nearby farmers, and had made the long walk back to the village soaked from shoe to waist with frigid well water. His boots had been filled with water before he'd been pulled from the well, soaking his stockings too so that every step home was a squishy, miserable mess. Longing for hearth, home, and warm water, the appearance of the beggar woman from behind a wall almost prompted him to turn and run away.
"No, no…" He pointed a finger at Lorelei as if the digit had the power to freeze her in place so he could pass by.
The beggar pointed a finger right back at him. "Don't you run from me, Hob!"
Hob ignored the request. He quickened his pace along the road while still trying to ward her off with his finger. "Stay away from me woman! I'm in no mind for your mewling today!" He hefted his shovel…until Will came up from behind Hob and clamped his hand on the handle, quashing any half-formed ideas the man might have of threatening the vagrant woman with the tool.
"Manners, sir, when you're addressing the queen," Will purred dangerously, having no tolerance on his part for the most miniscule and passing notion of raising a weapon against any woman.
"I'm a princess," Lorelei corrected him.
"You've earned the throne today," Will humored her out of gratitude for her assistance.
Hob rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't start with that 'princess' rubbish, crazy old crone."
Will slapped Hob in the back of the head. "I believe I said 'manners', sir, or should I make my point more forcefully?"
Hob glared as if seeing Will for the first time. "Who are you? Why are you bothering me? I've done nothing to you!"
The beggar answered instead. "He's Wilhelm Grimm…kin of Jacob Grimm."
Raw fear made Hob's eyes grow wide. He dropped the shovel and attempted to flee. Undaunted, Will merely tripped the man and laid the handle of the discarded shovel across Hob's neck, pinning him to the ground. "Yes, that Jacob," Will said. "Why is it the mention of my brother scatters all of you like sheep running from a wolf? You wouldn't have done anything to my brother, would you?" Will shoved a bit harder on the shovel handle, choking the man a bit, so Hob would know what he intended to do if the answer to that question was 'yes'.
"I didn't do nothing wrong! Let me go!" Hob gasped out. He tried to kick at Will, until Grimm added to Hob's misery by leaning one knee on the man's chest and resting his body weight there. "I earned my wages fair! You want the coins back? You're too late! I used them for my debts. I was only supposed to dig, and I did like I said I would!"
"Dig for what?" Will demanded.
Hob coughed, turning a bit blue. Will eased up on the handle a bit, letting the man gasp down a lungful of air. Hob glowered sourly at Will, rubbing his bruising neck. "He wouldn't tell me what. Said I was better off not knowing."
"You know what he was after," Lorelei accused.
"I don't, woman!" Hob barked. To Will, he added, "I promise! Mr. Grimm didn't want me to get in bad with the townsfolk for helping him. He paid me to show up at sunrise and help him dig until sunset. At sunset, he'd give me my coin, send me home, and go sit beneath a tree, scribbling in his book. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone he was here, and I didn't."
Will believed him. It sounded like Jacob. He removed his knee from Hob's chest. "Did Jacob find what he was looking for?" he pressed.
Hob shook his head. "No---and I told him he wouldn't."
"All those weeks and he didn't find anything?" Will found that hard to believe. Jacob was like a dog with a bone once he got an idea into his head. He wouldn't abandon his search and slink away empty-handed---he'd spend the rest of his life digging a hole straight through the earth first.
The digger started to reply, but then closed his mouth and reconsidered. "Coins. Gold coins. We found lots of them at first, but not so many after the first week. He wasn't after them, so he let me keep whatever I found. Paid my way out of some nasty debts with them---that's why I was okay about keeping our work a secret." Hob puffed up a bit. "Mr. Grimm's lucky I'm an honorable man. Some of the folks around here would have smashed him in the head and buried him in his hole to claim a spot with gold coins…and no one would have ever found him buried in those hills."
That was true. There was something deeply terrifying about how easily Jacob could have gotten himself killed---several times over—during his sojourn in this town. Satisfied that Hob had no more information to offer and was telling something close to the truth, Will relented and allowed the man to stand. "Gold coins?" Of course, why keep a fortune in gold coins when there were much more interesting ghosts to dig up? Yes, that definitely sounded like Jacob.
Hob balked, but pulled one golden coin from his vest pocket. "My last one. I went back after Mr. Grimm left to look for more, but there weren't any more." He permitted Will to examine the coin…only for a minute. "Then the priest come along and made me fill in the holes and swear on my soul to never set foot there again." Hob scratched his head. "Wonder how he found out we were up there, come to think of it…"
Will gaped at the coin. "Roman? These are ancient Roman!" he said, astounded.
"The old Romans had territory here back in their day. They were fond of our land. Mr. Grimm said the coins weren't what he wanted, that what he was after was older than the Romans…maybe from before Jesus, even."
"The 'old ghosts'?" Will supplied.
Hob turned to Lorelei. "You talk too much, woman."
"Do you know who the 'old ghosts' were?" Will asked him.
"No. I just know it's not a fit subject for decent folks." The digger waggled his fingers until Will returned the coin to him.
"And you're very sure that Jacob found nothing besides those coins?" Will had to be clear about that. If his brother hadn't turned up anything, especially not strange altars and knives with blades made of light, then perhaps Will really was chasing around the country for nothing.
Hob nodded. "One morning, he just thanked me for my help, said what he was looking for wasn't here, paid me an extra week's wages, and rode out of the village…" The digger rubbed his chin. "One thing's odd: When he left, he had some sort of bundle under his arm. It was strange because it was wrapped in sackcloth and…"
"Tied with a red silk cord," Will finished.
"That's right. I don't know where he got it. He didn't have it the night before. Seemed happy as could be for a man who wasted a month digging around the hills for nothing."
Will asked, "When was that? When did he leave?"
"It was just two weeks ago," Hob answered.
Two weeks! He'd missed intercepting Jacob from this idiotic scheme of his by one week! Will fought the urge to scream an oath in deference to Lorelei's presence.
"I haven't seen him since." Hob finished his story. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"
No doubt. Will wasn't paying attention to the digger or the vagrant woman anymore. His mind centered on a nightmare image of a wand, wrapped in sackcloth and tied with a red silk cord and light piercing his brother's chest like a dagger. He found it. I'm not sure what 'it' is, but Jacob found it.
A gust of icy wind answered.