Chapter 16: The Last Days of Sunney Towne
So we came to the last four days of our lives.
We spent those days preparing.
For our deaths? No, Snips, we did not know we were going to die. I suppose an we had known, we would have done things different to try to prevent it. After all, we none of us wanted to die; we all wanted to live, just as do ye twain. Just as do all Ponies of sound mind.
Even as did Gladstone.
I have told ye Gladstone's life was not altogether merry. Born in bastardy, sired by Grey Hoof but scorned by his own grand-dam, Dainty Hoof mother of Grey Hoof, Gladstone's life had been over-shadowed by the lie that he was not Grey Hoof's son. He felt never as dear to his father as were Starlet and mine own self.
Now, Gladstone was important to Grey Hoof as never before. He was the one who would do any thing at all Father asked, or even more, and do it uncomplaining and even glad of it. He was the only one who had come back from that patrol at all merry. Our father had doubts about what they had done that night; Gladstone none. He was hotter for Grey Hoof's aims than was Grey Hoof himself.
Gladstone of course learned that Mitta had counseled confession, and suspected that I had urged this on my mother. And this pleased him not, for he knew well that he had been by far the most guilty of the four who had gone forth that night -- though he saw his acts as the deeds of a hero, rather than the crimes of a wrongdoer.
After the quarrel between my parents, Gladstone came to me with harsh words.
"Thou hast better not be planning to sell Father and mine own self to the Guards," he said without preface, leaning over me and glaring down at me. He was a stallion of two and twenty; I a filly not yet fifteen. He often moved stones, and had grown full strong from these labors.
I looked up into his brown eyes, which had ever before seemed to me eager or sad, but now flashed with newborn anger, and danger. And I bethought myself that he had slain, recent and wanton, and might do so again. And I said:
"I would never betray Father, for he is mine as well. And thou, for all that thou'rt a toad, art mine own brother. So --" I snapped at him, "-- fear not. At least, not from me."
At that, he reared, whinnied and stepped back on his hind legs, then mastered himself.
"What dost thou mean by those words?" he shouted, stamping and snorting.
I stood my ground.
"I mean that I shall not betray thee," I said. "But thou art full like to betray thine own self.
Confusion was written on his face.
"Look, Gladstone," I continued. "Thou'rt mine own brother; I shall not impeach thee. But, if thou dost go on and further rampage along the roads, jabbing with thy spear like a madpony, how long dost thou think that thy depredations will go unnoticed?"
"They were but peddlers --" Gladstone began.
"And thou'rt but a country mason!" I exploded at him. "And wert thou a noble clad in ermine, and they but the lowliest beggars, still thou hadst no right cause to slay them! And still would such an act be against the law! Dost thou think we live still in the Age of Discord?"
He stepped back another pace, thinking on my words.
"Gladstone, I shall not betray thee. And with good enow fortune -- for thee -- thy murther of three innocent travelers will go both unguessed and unpunished. I shall keep thy secret, for I would not turn on mine own kin, and carry it to my grave."
And beyond, though that of course I could not yet know.
"But I do tell thee this, Brother," I added, putting mine own muzzle almost direct against his, and gazed into his eyes. "If thou dost evade thine own just punishment for thine own crimes, count thyself a most lucky stallion in this, and tempt thy fate no further.
"Cease thy crimes! For, if thou continuest on thy path, thy taking by the Law becomes sure, and there be no thing that I or Three Leaf or anypony else may do to save thee.
"Thou'rt mine own brother, Gladstone, and I do love thee. And Grey Hoof and Three Leaf love thee. But the Law loves thee not. And whether I do ward thee from love, as I say, or from the fear thou dost imagine thou inspirest in me, the Law feels neither for thee. Thy path will end in prison, or at the end of a rope. Kennest thou?"
"Thou dost threaten --?" he began.
"I do warn!" I snapped at him. "Dunderhead! Dost thou imagine that, if thou wanderest the road slaying everypony thine own disordered senses imagine to be stricken by plague, none shall notice? Thou wert lucky this time, but an thou continuest on this course, thy luck shall run dry. Cease, afore thou dost doom us all! For if any more be slain, I fear the wrath of the Moon Princess shall destroy thee and all thou dost love!"
In which prophesy I was to be fully confirmed, and in strangely specific wise -- why had I said 'Moon Princess' rather than 'Law?' Though in this, as in so many other matters, my finding of the Truth was to bring me scant joy. 'Tis often thus.
Gladstone shrank from my fury. He had hoped to cow me with his accusation that I planned betrayal; he had not expected me to stand up to him. Gladstone blusters when he thinks he has the advantage, but is easily taken aback by opposition he cannot oe'ermaster. He had tried to bully me, but I had not backed down.
"Thou lovest to chide me as if I were but a little colt and thee mine own mother, though I am seven years thy elder," he grumbled. "'Tis saucy of thee."
"This is not about age, nor manners," I told him. "This is both a matter of right and of survival. Murther is wrong, and it is a crime for which the Law will harsh punish thee. Renounce thy sins!"
Yes, my friends, such were my words. I was young, and overfond of dramatic speeches. And my model was mine own Most Beloved Teacher, who also likes a stirring turn of phrase.
Gladstone was not impressed by my oratory.
"Bold words!" he said. "Dost thou set thyself up over me -- oe'er all of us -- as judge? Or Harmonist preacher? Now that thou hast the favor of the Moon Princess, wilst thou stand atop a podium, and from it lay down unto us the Law? Dost thou mean to be the next headspony of Sunney Towne?"
"Sunney Towne?" I laughed in his face, and was most wicked happy to see Gladstone cringe before my mockery. "Nay, I'll bow aside, and let Starlet and thee contend for that honor, an mine own mother or thine decline it. My path lies far beyond this little hamlet, out into the great wide world where there be real foes to fight and prizes to be won. I care not a farthing for the petty dominion to which you aspire. Just heed my warning -- lest thou fall, before thou hast even begun to climb thy puny ladder!"
So, in mine own overweening pride, I did speak to Gladstone, mine own elder half-brother, as one should never speak to one's elders, nor to one's near and dear kin. And in so doing, I mortared into place the next stone of our common doom.
What, did ye imagine me wholly innocent in our damnation? I am far from the evilest Pony alive, nor even in Sunney Towne, but neither am I the paragon of virtue my mother fondly supposes. And here, I know I did wrong to mine own half-brother.
For, at what I said to Gladstone, he staggered back as though I had struck him a buffet to the head, though the only blow I had dealt him was to his pride. But to one such as my brother, who had grown up ever seeing his mother and himself slighted, such a blow was severe. He might not have minded half so much had I bucked him full to the face.
And ... I knew this! I knew this, when I mocked him. I wanted to hurt Gladstone, for at that moment I was full well sick of him.
Ye should ken, I had by then had some time to think on the tragedy of that patrol, and I judged it to have been most of all Gladstone's fault. Father had led many such patrols before; turned back many small traders, and this was the first time one had ended in death. Gladstone had started the brawl in which Father had slain the stallion, and Gladstone had run down and killed the mare and her colt. At each point, Gladstone had worsened matters.
Thus did Gladstone stand in danger of the gallows, and 'twas most for him whom we lied to protect. And he seemed to believe that his bloody deeds had somehow done us signal service!
I wanted to shatter his smug arrogance, and bring home to him just how deep I despised what he had done. In this, I was most successful -- to mine own later great sorrow, and that of us all.
For, from then on, Gladstone became mine enemy. And still remains such.
The next day -- the fifth, in that final week of our lives -- Three Leaf stopped by on some task involving the supplies of drinks and spices -- and cures for hangovers and stomach-aches -- related issues, as ye well may ken!
Yes, Snips, we at times overate back then. We were only equine, even as thou art, in those days. 'Tis sometimes a part of life for any not starving, and most years we knew not serious dearth, even in winter. We were freeholders, and had Three Leaf as lifeweaver. We lived well, for farmponies of our time.
I do not miss stomach-aches. But I do miss food, of the common mortal kind. 'Tis been a thousand and five years since I have proper dined -- and to make matters worse, I was slain right before a feast, in part in my honor, in which I was thus barred from joining. 'Tis a small enow thing, compared to the rest, and yet it frets at me, at times.
In any case, Three Leaf did confer with my parents. And then she sought out and talked to me.
'Twas on the pretext of concern for mine own health, as I grew toward full marehood. And she was, in sober fact, very much concerned about mine health -- and Grey Hoof's, and Gladstone's.
She wanted to find a way for all of us to remain breathing: despite what her son had done.
She failed in the end -- but not for lack of trying.
Being Gladstone's mother, Three Leaf was of course one of his closest confidantes. What colt does not trust his mother, and do so even when a stallion full-grown?
Oh. I am sorry about both ye twain. Ye must at times be very lone.
So, 'twas to Three Leaf that Gladstone had unladen his heart, and thus she knew all that had passed that fatal night, from her son as well as from her old lover. And Gladstone had also complained to her of how I had slighted him, as I had but expected he would. This might less be expected of a stallion full-grown -- but 'twas ever the way of Gladstone. 'Twas ever a mama's colt. He still is, for we Wraiths cannot much change.
Gladstone complained to his mother instead of our father for the cause that he would not show weakness before Grey Hoof. And, again, I was Grey Hoof's full acknowledged child, and favorite at that, while Gladstone was but his bastard. Gladstone wanted a sympathetic ear: and such would he always have from Three Leaf, who -- having no husband -- had given Gladstone more than the full measure of a mother's love.
And this may have been too much love, for 'twas from some place Gladstone got the notion the whole world must yield to his whim, or he would have revenge on it. He was in that respect far worse than my sister Starlet, who was but very local in her loyalties. And this may have come from too much love from Three Leaf -- and not enough from Grey Hoof.
So Three Leaf would be a judge biased toward her son's cause in my quarrel with him.
Still, I had hopes of reaching her. I had always liked Three Leaf, though I did not then and still do not now always understand her. She is most mystical and strange, whereas I am a rather direct filly. But she is also both caring and kind, willing always to help others; learned and wise, a gifted lifeweaver, healer and herbalist. Her mind was keen, and she was ever one to mull over all sides of a question before deciding. I did not think she would condemn me in her heart without a hearing.
"My son did tell me that thou hadst words with him yesterday," Three Leaf began full direct, as soon as she had me alone with her. "He said thou didst mock him, and name him murtherer, and threaten him with the Law. Be these true?"
There was no anger in her voice, though I knew her well enough to tell she was sore troubled. I had seen her in such moods before; most often when Dainty Hoof had of her spoken some calumny. Dainty could be quite cruel to Three Leaf, even more toward the end of her own life, when I think she may have been trying to tempt the healer into hastening her end by bad practice.
If so, she much misjudged her mare. For Dainty Hoof lasted a good long time after the Mark-Pox struck her, though by the end, Dainty was very weak indeed. Three Leaf in no way sped Dainty's death, no matter how much Dainty would have welcomed it. Three Leaf is, in truth, a very dedicated healer.
I can remember her standing there, her calm blue eyes fixed on me, holding in one hoof a small, ornate-carved red box, of the sort in which she was wont to store her pills and powders, and turning it over and over again between that hoof and her wild dark-green mane, as if unsure of what to do. She was sometimes shy with Ponies, when not speaking on matters of medicine or other things professional.
The best way with Three Leaf was ever with an honest heart.
"I did have words with thy son," I admitted. "And spoke sharply to him ..." I paused.
Three Leaf nodded, and urged me on. The box trembled in her hoof.
"Dost thou know of what chanced on the patrol five nights agone?" I asked her.
Three Leaf nodded gravely.
"Aye," she said. "I know well. Both from my son -- and from he who did sire both Gladstone and thine own self."
"So thou dost ken why I spoke to Gladstone both of murther -- and the Law."
Three Leaf nodded at me a third time. Then she looked at me, pain in her eyes. "But Gladstone did not mean to do it. He cannot have meant it -- he is a good colt! I ken ye have clashed, but he is thine own half-brother. Do not send him to the gallows!"
I was astonished at this outburst from one I had always seen as a logical thinker and wise healer, and I hastened to calm her fears.
"I did but mean to warn him, Auntie," I told her, "not to threaten. I do fear that Gladstone gallops to his ruin -- and the ruin of us all. Unless he does confess, he stands in grave danger from the Law, and so do we, as accessories to his crimes. And if he commits more such crimes, his capture becomes all but certain. For the good of himself and us all, he must stop! "
"I see," said Three Leaf. She stared at her little red box. In her blue eyes, there seemed to shine a fell light. "And, wouldst thou bring Gladstone down?"
"No!" I cried in horror. "Gladstone is mine own brother! I would not betray my kin!"
"Not even for the esteem of thy princess?" Three Leaf almost hissed this, and her eyes seemed to flare dangerously. Her hoof clenched her box against her own chest.
"I would ne'er betray any of my kin!" I protested to Three Leaf. "Not thee, nor Gladstone, and certainly not mine own father!" I took a deep breath. "Three Leaf, I am no outsider, no Court schemer who would sell her own mother for a higher office. I am Ruby Gift whom thou hast known all my life. Three Leaf, thou didst attend mine own birth!"
I think my words reached her. Something passed over her expression, and her eyes once again were normal. It was in truth nothing supernatural, just a shift in her emotions, but it was still something to behold.
She clenched too tightly on the box, and it dropped, its cover springing off. A brownish powder spilled forth. Three Leaf gasped.
"Let me help thee with that," I offered automatically, and I bent muzzle and extended a hoof.
"Nay, take care!" Three Leaf warned me, and shoved my muzzle back with one hoof.
I was familiar with her ways, so I guessed her reason. "Poisonous?" I asked. Three Leaf was healer rather than poisoner, but some of her medicines were so concentrated and potent as to be dangerous, even deadly, to even accidentally taste.
"Aye," said Three Leaf, her face pale and frightened as she looked from the innocent-seeming little pile of brown powder into mine eyes. "Paratropine. The yield of the bellacabella plant, deadly moonshade, when its berries are dried, crushed and properly prepared. A powerful stimulant. In the right dose, given at the right moment, it can fortify a failing heart. In the wrong dose --" Three Leaf shuddered. "It could stop a healthy heart; make it shake itself apart." She regarded the spilled powder as if it were a deadly serpent, apt at any moment to strike. "That small quantity is enough to fell several full-grown stallions -- let alone one filly, just at the start of marehood. 'Twould be full-well fatal, and the breaking of mine own oath, the one I could swear to mine own grand-dam Wise Leaf, when she taught me the healing arts. 'First, do no harm' -- the most essential part of the Oath of Horseruler, from the most ancient days. The healer must not sin against those in her charge -- sweet Saint Sweetheart, what was I thinking?"
And with that from her, I went cold, for the cause that she had just revealed to me that she had been mulling on doing it to me on purpose.
Ye see why? Ye do not see why?
Yes, Snips, she was thinking on poisoning me. To silence me, an I meant to inform on Gladstone. She loved me, but she would have done anything for Gladstone. Even break her sacred oath as a healer. Even, perhaps, kill a filly she had also always loved.
I knew this, for the cause that she spoke of breaking her oath. This could but refer to deliberate poisoning. Had she poisoned me by mischance, that would have been tragic, and bad -- for her as well as for me -- but 'twould not have actually violated her oath. Healers can make mistakes just as may other Ponies, though the consequences are more like to be fatal than when, say, bakers do err.
My mention of our long history together had made her realize what a fell thing that would be to do, made her recoil from the abyss. But I trembled, with the knowledge of what had nearly happened.
"I am sorry," Three Leaf said, looking deep into mine eyes. "I am so sorry."
"'All is well," I said to her, smiling. "What e'er almost did hap, no harm was done."
With that Three Leaf hugged me tight, making a wordless little affectionate sound.
Then, calming, she became once more the calm professional. Donning a gauze mask and wielding a small brush and dust-pan, she swept up as much of the precious powder as possible for filtration and re-use. Then , she dabbed up the remainder with a wet cloth, that it harm none in our household.
That chore done, we conversed a while. 'Twas not an altogether easy talk, but -- it now known between us that I did not mean to send Gladstone to the gallows nor she to slay me, 'twas less tense than before.
Three Leaf asked me whether I thought that Ravenwood would keep the secret. I misliked the intensity with which she asked this, and coupled with our earlier words, I much feared for the future of mine archer friend, and I hurried to assure her that I counted him as loyal to our village. I further pointed out that any attempt to harm Ravenwood might well draw the very official attention we should fear.
When Three Leaf said that she feared Ravenwood might accidentally tell of that patrol, I argued that keeping the secret depended in part on luck. As to Ravenwood slipping up, I said:
"Any of us might do the same. Me, thee or aught other who knows any of the tale. We cannot even be sure of our own selves. Canst thou be certain that thou shalt ne'er be drunk, nor delirious, nor but trust in the wrong Pony?"
That frightened her, and took her mind off Ravenwood, as I meant it. It may have frightened her too much, as later events were to show.
But I did not yet know this, and I went on:
"The truth be told, by now at least some of the story must have spread all over Sunney Towne, for when I came home the morning after the patrol, I knew something wrong by the fear I saw on so many faces. Many must have at least suspected, and we have ties to Riverbridge. By now, at least some in Riverbridge may already know.
"So there is naught we may do," I concluded, "but either make confession, or trust in the loyalty of our kith and kin. Once we start to mistrust and turn one on another, we are right well truly lost!"
'Twas a pretty speech on mine own part, and 'twas I ween deserving of a prettier outcome.
It did not save us. But it did, I think, save Three Leaf from breaking her Oath , and being damned on that cause.
Yet she would for another cause be damned. Still, I ween, I did something good in keeping Three Leaf from breaking her Oath by misusing her healing arts for murther. So, I pray, she is not too deeply damned, and may one day win free of her curse. For Three Leaf was -- and, I think, still is -- a good Pony.
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Nnnngh.
Every time I come back I expect to read the calamitous scene of the feast, psyching myself up for what I know is going to be something horrifying. I've been waiting since "Murthers Most Foul", you can't keep doing this to me man. My heart and soul are wavering in anticipation. It physically hurts.
Now onto my regularly scheduled typo hunt.
1) - but (missing the "u")
?) - should this be lonesome, or lonely, I get "the lone apple", but not "feeling lone".
3) - his (slipped fingers, you need a "h" rather than a "b")
That was much quicker than the last few times, did you get a new keyboard?
Congrats on continuing your wonderful stories!
7775292
I'm glad you liked it. I would have linked to you or the story but I'm doing this through a phone keyboard and I'm far from adept at cutting and pasting with it. I was almost finished with the chapter before I realize that if anyone should refer to Saint Sweetheart it should be Three Leaf.
Huh. There's a story there. Or just teenagers afraid of their mothers finding out what they're up to, which seems rather likely. Between the moonshine and the wraiths, they're on track to be put in protective custody until they're thirty.
In any case, very good to see this continue. Nice touch in having Ruby having some responsibility for that final party. No one's perfect, especially not a tragic lead. Ruby certainly isn't the most hubristic of her kind, but her arrogance still plays a part in her village's downfall.
7775131
Thanks for pointing those out. No, I'm still using the phone, I've just gotten better at it. If you mean the broken keyboard, I'm not using that anymore, that computer broke permanently.
7776195
Ruby is intentionally shown by me to be flawed. I make sure to show this because in many ways she is a rather ideal heroine, to the point where her mother calling her a saint is understandable as a slight exaggeration. Ruby is extremely good, but she is not perfect, and she is perfectly capable of anger and vanity.
I don't think Ruby truly realises what she's done here. Not even after all this time.
Because what she said to him can be interpreted to mean this: "I will sell you out to Luna, whom I idolise and whose favour I want, because you are worthless and unimportant and I'm meant for greatness."
7779847
And even if Gladstone doesn't consciously think she will, what Ruby did say amounted to "This acceptance you're winning from Father? Entirely meaningless, just like our whole little village. Just like always, I'm rising higher than you." This is why Ruby still feels guilty about what she said.
Mind you, Gladstone is more than a little bit annoying, not to mention violently insane, and somewhat deserved to be talked to like that. And Ruby's not normally that mean.
But still, she said it.
7779961
And yet, I wonder if it was more his hurt feelings or his mistaken belief that she did threaten him that led to tragedy. How serious he took it should be seen by a gentle soul like Three Leaf preparing to murder her.
Maybe Ruby noticed, maybe she didn't. Fear can bring out the worst in us.
Incidentally, I am not feeling for Ruby as much as I perhaps should. I should, but it's more difficult than I expected. Maybe it has to do with her voice being so prevalent. I know this may sound strange, but... Hm, how to explain...
Did you ever have moments where, when one character tells things from their viewpoint for a longer amount of time, you start questioning what they're saying? Like, your inner contrarian starts acting up more and more?
7780260
Ruby's not an unreliable narrator but she isn't a perfect one either. Her memory isn't perfect and she shades some of her memories to favor herself. She's good, but hardly perfect, and Gladstone even before was not her favorite kinspony.
Before I read it, what is the Dark, Horror and Thriller tag for ?
7784908
Snips and Snails go to Sunney Towne.
7784927 ok.
... and ?