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Malcolm awoke to the sound of metal clattering. Blinking, he saw Daniel standing halfway between the hearth and the bed, his naked body, trembling, silhouetted by the fire. The expression on his face seemed one of pure anguish.
“Daniel?” Malcolm tried to quell a rising ill-feeling. “Is something the matter?”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly and turned away, moving to the table nearby. He flopped into a chair, the fire bright, throwing him into half silhouette. He leaned an elbow on the table, covering his eyes, his other arm hung loosely at his side.
Malcolm sat up. A glint of light caught his eye as he did so, and glancing towards it, he saw a knife lying on the floor near the hearth. The blade was thin and curved, the edge shining, razor-like, as if it had been recently sharpened. The sound that had woken him must have been its falling. What had prompted Daniel to take up a knife?
Instinct told him to divorce himself from this circumstance immediately, although he struggled to understand the sudden turn of atmosphere. He had had many an encounter where men turned violent after lovemaking, upset by the shame of their own urges. He had endured bellowing and curses, even bouts of fisticuffs, but the way Daniel had looked at him spoke of something different. Something seemingly tender and broken, and even more frightening than the usual. He pulled on his discarded trousers as he stood, grabbing the rest of his clothing.
Daniel sat in the chair, his arms wrapped around his midsection, bent over as if in pain. Yet his face, what Malcolm could see of it, was placid, almost stonily calm. It was a disquieting sight and it moved him. Against his better judgment, Malcolm laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. When Daniel lifted his face, it was strained and creased with consternation. He appeared aged, years older, best by torturesome emotions.
“You should go.”
Malcolm was taken aback. “This very minute?”
“Yes, go. Now.”
“Have I done something to offend you, Daniel?”
“It isn't that.” He gritted his teeth. “I can offer no promises.”
“I haven't asked for any promises.”
“You don't understand. At dawn ...” Daniel faltered. He sat upright and unfolded his arms. His ragged breath escaped him. “My grandfather will return at dawn.”
“And you don't want him to see me here?”
“He cannot.”
“I understand, believe me. I have dealt with many an angry parent in my day, or spouse come to that.” Malcolm knew all too well the hazards of guilty men. “But dawn is hours off yet. Surely it cannot be as urgent as that.”
Daniel shook his head, grimacing.
“No, now is better. You must go now. My grandfather—I can't guarantee—I'm not sure what he would do. He has been known to be... aggressive.”
“Surely an old man can't be—”
“Violent. Sometimes he is violent. Especially when dawn comes.”
“Where has he been? Out drinking? What keeps him away all night?”
“No, not drink.” Daniel turned away then, a queer expression on his face. “The moon.”
“The moon?” Malcolm pulled on his shirt, baffled. “What has the moon to do with anything?”
“Strange things happen on a moon like this,” Daniel said, his voice as even as still water. “Strange and powerful things. There is a power in the moon.”
Malcolm knelt beside him. Daniel turned away from him and stared into the fire. Malcolm ran his fingers through the hair at Daniel's temples.
“No,” Daniel objected with a whisper but he did not stop Malcolm's caresses.
“The type of thing you spoke of at the lake?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm searched the face of the beautiful man he'd just lain with. Daniel's eyes closed as Malcolm stroked his hair.
“Something like magic?” asked Malcolm.
Daniel's eyes snapped open and he glared at Malcolm, a hard, frantic stare.
“You must go. I beg you.” Daniel brought a clenched fist to his lips, hiding his mouth. “Please.”
“I promise I will not give you reason to be at odds with your grandfather.”
Malcolm was weary and better sense told him the young man was clearly troubled, yet something called on him to stay. He wanted to wrap Daniel up in his arms, to stave off whatever this wild, piercing panic was. He wanted to protect him, to save him.
Daniel cupped his hand under Malcolm's chin. Daniel's expression was blank, his eyes like two rounds of polished flint, black and glistening, as he turned Malcolm's head from side to side, studying his face.
“So young,” whispered Daniel.
A cold feeling sprung up in Malcolm’s stomach.
“I’m older than you, hardly young,” he stammered.
“You do not understand,” said Daniel, his voice hollow and ragged. Suddenly he grasped Malcolm by the neck. “You understand nothing.”
His voice was not loud but it had such intensity that it felt like a shout.
His hand tightened around Malcolm's neck.
“D-d-Daniel,” Malcolm sputtered in protest.
But Daniel did not seem to hear. His face was a mask, his eyes dark, the spaces around them hollowed and shadowed. His cheeks seemed sunken, his nostrils flared. His grip was like a vice closing and he stood, wrenching Malcolm up by the neck. Once Malcolm was on his feet, Daniel began to push him, driving him backward, and Malcolm tripped over his own feet. But Daniel held him by the throat, his arm extended at full length, and he kept pressing Malcolm back and back.
The skin on Daniel’s face seemed to stretch taught against the bones, his eyes like two pools of pure black. His lips parted in a hideous smile, and when he spoke his voice seemed amplified, as if more than one person spoke, multiple times converged into one roar of sound.
“YOU. MUST. LEAVE.”
Malcolm’s vision went blurry and the air struggled to fill his lungs.
“GO,” Daniel's voice again rang out.
Suddenly there was a hard smack as he hit the wall. Daniel’s grip released and Malcolm fell to the floor gasping and rubbing at his throat.
Daniel stumbled back and fell to his knees, his body limp.
“I’m sorry,” he cried, his voice filled with desperation. “I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry.”
He began to weep.
Malcolm’s head swam, he felt addled. Even though every good sense in his body told him to run, to flee this man who had only seconds ago had him clawing for breath, he instead moved towards him. The sound of weeping shook something far deeper in Malcolm and he put his arm around Daniel, pulling him to his chest. He buried his face in Daniel’s hair.
“I’m so sorry.” Daniel’s sobs began to ease. “But you must go. Please. I beg of you.”
Malcolm nodded, knowing that no comfort could come. He jumped up, retrieved his boots and pulled them on quickly.
At the door, he turned.
Daniel was still on the floor, naked and huddled. He had brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face against them. Only the light falling through the window from outside hit him and it cast his skin a somber pale blue.
It was a sorrowful and delicate sight that made Malcolm want to pick Daniel up, to cradle him, hold him close and comfort him with kisses. A chorus of chaos rang out in his mind. Pain, fear, confusion, anger—all bounced around in a cacophony. He shut his eyes, sighing deeply, and shook his head. He pushed the door open and felt the cold midnight rush in around him. He welcomed its bracing touch and stepped out. Letting his feet swiftly carry him, he willed himself not to look back at the lonely cottage, worried he might again reconsider.
Ϟ
Back in his room over the tavern, he poured some frigid water into the basin and splashed his face. He undressed and got into bed, grateful to see his hot water bottle had not yet cooled. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, and for the first time since he left the tavern that evening, he felt somewhat clearheaded. As he had moved through the darkened forest back to the tavern he had been plagued by the feeling that he had forgotten or abandoned something. Even as he struggled to make sense of what had happened in the weaver’s cottage, the images of Daniel’s scowling face, the fire, and the discarded knife had begun to fade. What he remembered most vividly, with utmost clarity, was two competing images. Daniel’s face above him in bed, his hair lit brightly by the firelight, and the sorrowful pose of him on the floor, blue as a megrim, the shadows of night enveloping him.
As he finally drifted to sleep, he hoped it would all make more sense in the daylight.