2 Chapter 2 | Yonas

Fall, 1898

Dilly cracked the whip again. At this pace, he wouldn't reach Bolvyer before midnight. He was impatient. And scared. He had to reach Bolvyer by the midnight, or he couldn't make it to Dewbarron by dawn. He didn't want the Lord to crucify him, as most people believed he did. He never had the chance to see the Lord, and he was thankful for that. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens to help him avoid him again, as he had been avoiding him forever. He didn't want to put all the theories and rumors he had heard to test.

He urged the pony to move faster, but he knew with the current weight of the coach, it won't be possible. He needed a horse. And he needed one fast. There was no way he would he would make it if this poor beast was to fall dead. And he could only get one once he reached Bolvyer. He sighed. It seemed to him that there was no other option in sight.

About a quarter past the Church tower of Bolvyer struck twelve, he finally made it to the inn at Bolvyer. There was only one, and most of its dwellers were travelling to or from Dewbarron. It also rented stallions so it was the perfect place for Dilly. It was curious really, how he ended up with a pony driving his coach. Even more curious was what was in the load. They never told him. All he had to do was to carry whatever they loaded on the coach to the Manor in Dewbarron. The Dewbarrons were quite influential in London, what with having their own cotton and flour mills. He just assumed the load would be one of them. He entered the inn and was shook out of his reverie by a booming voice.

"Well if it isn't Dilly mah man! Good lord! Been long since ye're last 'ere. Haven't seen ya 'round since summer."

That was Barry, the inn's owner. If anyone ever asked him why he never named the inn, He would laugh a booming laugh and tell you, "It'as a name, 'tis called The Inn." Well, obviously, not the brightest coal in the oven, Barry Lawson was a bear of a man, to complement his voice. His built and a gruff hairy face tended to scare the kids and women, and a lot of men (thought they won't agree), but in reality, Barry never hurt a fly. His wife, Mrs. Lawson, a petite woman with the shrillest voice of England, seemingly harmless at a glance, was quite a church bell. In fact, out of all the things Barry was afraid of, Mrs. Lawson topped the list. Dilly had made good acquaintance of the Lawsons in the past few years he had been working for the Dewbarrons.

"Hello to you too Barry. Ain't no good comin' ter this dunghole without business. How's it goin' for ya?"

"Same ol, aye. Nothin' new pops up 'ere. The usual for ya?"

"Nah mate. Got business. A horse might be good."

"Whad'ya need an 'orse for? Ye gat a coach yerself!"

"Aye, and 'tis a pony draggin' it 'round. Keep 'er 'ere. I needa get ter town quick. She ain't makin' it in a year."

"Blimey! That's a bummer. There might be an 'orse left in the stables. Not really fast, but will be up for what ya need."

"I'll take it. Better than the little beastie."

"Aye, thas true. Anyway, I need ya ter do me favour."

"Aye? And whassat?"

"There's this lad. Came in jus' minutes before ya. Wants ter go ter the Manor. Ne'er in mah life have I found sommen goin' ter the Manor on free will. As't me for a traveller five times already. Be generous and tak'im with ya. Won't slow ya down, thas mah word. Jus' tak'im."

Dilly gave a huge sigh. He wasn't sure how much worth Barry's word held. After all he was just an acquaintance. There had never been a situation before when he needed his word. He really did not want to slow himself, but seeing that his journey might be covered with company, he hesitantly agreed.

Bolvyer was a remote village. Quite far out from the cities. Dewbarron was even more remote. No one ever understood the purpose of a town so remote. Also, it always baffled Dilly and anyone from the cities, if the Dewbarrons had establishments in London, why did they continue to live in that remote town? The journey from London to Dewbarron was a long stretch. And without company, it might make one lose their mind. Seeing it as a good sign, Dilly went on to prepare the coach for the journey, employing the horse and tying the pony in the stables. She looked quite relieved with the rest.

When he was done, he stepped into the driver's seat and pulled the coach towards The Inn's front on the road. There he saw the little man waiting. Well not short, but lanky enough to be ignored in a crowd. Face buried under a mat of curls, seemingly brown but Dilly couldn't quite tell in the dark.

"You the lad Barry talkin' 'bout??"

The boy looked up suddenly with his dark eyes.

"Oh! Aye, my name's Yonas. You can take me to the Manor of Dewbarron?"

"That I can alrigh'. Hop up laddie. You from 'round 'ere?"

Yonas climbed up besides Dilly. With his skinny frame, he had no trouble fitting. Not that Dilly was too big himself.

"Nah, I travelled around from Portsmouth. I live there with my uncle. My folks live in London."

"Aye. Whad'ya needa do in the Manor? 'Tis curious, the likes of ya comin'ere."

"Ah! Aye, it is. The Lord Dewbarron happens to be an acquaintance of my uncle. The Lord had invited him to the town but he had some business in London, so he sent me in his stead. You know, to pay his regards and express his regrets for not being able to present himself."

"That cranky ol' fella gat mates? Well tha's a s'prise."

Yonas furrowed his brows.

"Does The Lord have a temperament? Is there something I should be careful of while speaking to him?"

"Well I won't know, will I. Ne'er seen 'im. But a man gat ears. I've 'eard stuff 'bout 'im and let me tell ya, none of 'tis pleasant. Better ya not ask."

Yonas wanted to believe that the man was just trying to mess with him, but his deadly serious tone had put him off. He had never been this far off from Portsmouth. He hadn't been anywhere other than Portsmouth in his life. Not even the rest of Hampshire. He was pretty nervous about it already and he did not need this man to add to it. So he decided to keep his silence for the rest of the ride.

Dilly saw that Yonas had been put off by his comments. He knew it when he suddenly stopped responding to him, but he did not want him to keep his hopes up for a warm welcome, only to be left scared out of wits. So, he also decided to keep his quite, so that the rest of the ride was spent devoid of any human voice.

It was when the sky was beginning to light up that they sighted the barn at the entry of Town Dewbarron. Dilly tried to indulge Yonas in to conversation again by pointing out to the establishments in the town, but Yonas seemed to be hell bent on ignoring him.

However, as they reached The Manor, Yonas had the courtesy to bow a bit in thanks to Dilly, before disappearing inside the oak double doors, which were surprisingly open at this time.

Dilly made his way towards the back gardens. As expected, he found the shack unlocked. He had heard rumours of a maid dying in there, but he wasn't affected by it. He always unloaded the coach and left, and he never had any trouble. He sometimes ran into Millie, the maid who usually ran the morning errands, while he was here. But she never came close to the shack. She was the one who claimed to have found the maid that died. Oddly though, there never was an investigation, so it remained a rumour.

By the time he was done unloading the coach, it was already the break of dawn and the sun was visible at the horizon. He stretched his sour back and looked up. And his brow furrowed.

At the roof of the Manor, stood a figure. Now in the light, Dilly could clearly tell that he had brown curls. But that wasn't what made his forehead scrunch. His shirt, which was a spotless white linen formerly, was now wet and muddy.

What happened the next moment, chilled Dilly to the bone. Yonas took a step forward, towards the edge. And the next, he fell face first into the stone path of the gardens.

It was then that Dilly noticed that mud was actually blood.

And it came from the broken candle-stand, lodged into Yonas' back.

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