The Rowan Cycle

Deep within the Manor woods lies a place of myth and mystery, from which few return, and none remain unchanged. The Cotton Manor Wood may look like a three-mile-square fenced-in wood in rural Whithorn

CHAPTER 9

“I broke the infernal gates and looked on her

Who fronts the strong creation with a curse?”

It was Sunday afternoon, and I had been taking tea with Mrs. Gwyn. This was my second time, I was alone with the widow and a worthy opportunity to study Mrs. Gwyn at home, of filling in the little figure on its own appropriate background. The first thing that struck me was that the background was not appropriate, or rather that it was inadequate. Mrs. Gwyn's drawing-room had an air of uneasy elegance, of appearances painfully supported on the thin edge of two hundred a year. It was furnished with a too conspicuous care; the most insignificant details were arranged so as to lead up to and set off her good things, which were few and far between. There was no rest in it for the eye that was perpetually seized and riveted on some bit of old silver, or Oriental drapery, some Chippendale cabinet or chair. Such things were the commonplaces of Cotton Manor, and there they fell unobtrusively into their place. Here they were touched up and handled, posed out of all simplicity; they bore themselves accordingly with a shining consciousness of their own rarity; they made an unblushing bid for praise. In Mrs. Gwyn's drawing-room the note of taste was forced.

The invitation had come as a sort of unexpected attention to me. Its valedictory character was further emphasized by Mrs. Gwyn's proposing to walk home with all of us, and finally falling into the rear with myself.

As a turn in the drive brought us within sight of Cotton Manor, the widow balanced her pince-nez on the bridge of her nose. It remained there, and I judged that she was in no mood for merriment.

"That house, annoys me."

"Why?"

"Because it hasn't had justice done to it."

"I should have thought that was a ground for pity rather than resentment."

Mrs. Gwyn shrugged her shoulders twitched her white fingers and blurted out:

“Take care,” “take care how you of her. She is more dangerous than you think.” Then seizing the yellowish piece of paper from her pouch, she went on:

“And this is the despicable thing that has done the malice.

When she unrolled it, I could see it was a map, a map similar to the ones I had seen at Ms. Abaddon’s bedroom.

 I'm thinking how she might have got it.

 “Mrs. Gwyn,   what is it? Whom do I have to be careful of?”

Her hands trembled, her voice shuttered, and she could hardly speak without fear of being heard.

But there she was, and promptly explode with something that I knew in my inner feelings, I learned already.

“She is a witch” A terrible witch”

You have to wake up. You have to wake up, and soon. It isn’t just you either, everyone needs to awaken or we all die. We die and all our world will die soon.

I was shocked, I knew she was going to tell me something of what I had seen, but world, earth, was this manor more dreadful as I thought. I believed I was the only one involved, I was the only one in danger. But World? How?

“Please for god sake, speak! I want to know everything!” I desperately implored

Mrs. Gwyn went on.

 

“Ms. Abaddon is a witch, a cruel, merciful witch.  She belonged to another world and trapped in this one, thanks to the good deed of the colonel, a blessed soul, an angel watcher who had come to our world chasing her.

"Camilla, is her name, the foe of every cruel one, she rose and came to our world to open the path for all the evil creatures ever imagine, to take control and let them  where we are, seated with this ancient witch, to become the Queen and disdained our  God.” But before she could accomplish her missions, she needed to be free, she needed to get rid of the curse, and we had casted upon her.

“But what is my role here, in this outrageous, unbelievable story, I could hardly understand!”

Well my dear boy, your visit would help us to prevent her to fulfill her deed. We had been controlling her through our spells to retain this beast within the manor.

“How” I interrupted.

“ Well, she went on, “as the old prophecy states, the only path to break a curse is through finding the key to the portal, and we believe you are part of this finding.”

“You might know or have something she needs and through her enchantments and allure might get it.” She continues

“Did she want me to fall in love? Not to be rude, but her dullness, and harsh features, did not enchant me to be twined in her allures.”

“There might be very likely, we are sure she needs that key to the portal and if you have it she would do anything to obtain it.  Remember when you are dealing with demons, they have many tools to turn something ugly into beautiful and desirable.”

For a moment I thought I was about to give in, I remembered my walks with her, my talks, my sharing sketches, my sympathy, my pity.

I thought I was falling in love with Ms. Abaddon.

And here   I was, the one  who unwills  what I  willed, and now  new thoughts changes my  design, so that I  quite withdraws from beginning, such I became on that dark hillside: wherefore in my thought I abandoned the enterprise which had been so hasty in the beginning.

"If I have rightly understood your speech," I replied that "I am the one, the soul who will undertake the mortal mission of keeping this witch away from her desires? Is this the honorable enterprise, I have fallen into?

She nodded.

I was among those who are suspended, and this lady called me, so blessed and charming that I surrendered to her command.