The Beast of Bunbury

Mr Hereford paced the moonlit cobblestone path. He pulled his wool coat close about him, but couldn't keep out the February chill.

He could go inside the sturdy room in the abbey ruins, where a fire kept a little cell lit and warm--but the beast within was especially violent tonight, snarling, ravening, vicious. Hereford had never been addicted to cowardice, but even brave men must practice prudence sometimes.

He also knew he could walk away entirely. He could follow the cobblestones out of the ruins, cross the fishing-bridge, pass the frozen pond, walk through the rose garden, and return to Bunbury Park. No doubt his father-in-law would welcome him with wine and a deck of cards. Lucille had made it clear, time and again, that her husband's comfort made the privations of her curse more bearable.

Hereford had never been so tempted to seek the warmth of Bunbury Park than on this bitterly cold night. But, he couldn't go. He couldn't stray so far from Lucille's side. Not this time.

The beast in the abbey cell howled. Despite his better knowledge, every hair on Hereford's body stood on end. "I'm here!" he called out to Lucille, hoping his presence could give her some ounce of comfort. "I'm with you."

An unexpected voice sounded in the dark ruins.

"Is someone else here?"

Hereford quickly turned his steps in the direction of the voice, silently thanking the impulse that had kept him outside. "It is Abraham Hereford," he answered. "Son-in-Law of Admiral Westenra, owner of this land. Who is here?"

"Ah, Mr Hereford, so glad to see you!" It was the parson of the local village, bundled up in two coats and holding a hunting rifle. His brother, a navy lieutenant on leave, followed him, accompanied by the local doctor. They, too, bore arms.

"What, hunting?" Hereford said incredulously. He prayed his wife would remain silent. "This is no season for sport, and no time of day for it either."

"No sport," the doctor said gravely. "We've come for the Beast of Bunbury."

The parson excitedly explained, "It's mangled all the sheep and cattle within fifteen miles of here!"

Hereford knew this wasn't true. The beast had occasionally gotten loose, from time to time, and taken down a cow. Last month, it had torn to shreds one of the Admiral's horses, but its increased appetite of late was only natural, considering its state.

"I think those reports are exaggerated," Hereford said reasonably.

The young lieutenant said through chattering teeth, "It will come for people next."

Hereford shook his head and started to disagree. Unfortunately, the beast howled again.

The three armed men all held up their guns, as if they could threaten the darkness itself.

“It’s close,” the doctor whispered.

“Come, Mr Hereford,” the parson said. “You’ll be safest, close to us.”

A scrambling, scraping noise sounded behind Hereford: giant paws on stone. The beast growled and dug.

The doctor remarked, “It sounds as if there is nothing but an old stone wall between us and doom.”

“We must flee,” Hereford ordered. “You three must return to your homes, and I--”

“No!” the young lieutenant declared. “I came to kill the beast before it starts attacking women and children!”

“It only got a single horse!” Hereford spouted in exasperation. “It is not the threat you think it is, or at least--”

Its howl pierced the cold air.

“--It won’t be a threat unless you go after it!”

The digging, scraping sounds intensified, until there was a loud, rocky thud. The ruins fell silent.

“Behind me,” the lieutenant said, springing between the others and the source of the sounds. All four men scanned the moonlit abbey ruins for any sign of movement.

“Mr Hereford,” the doctor said gravely. “How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know so much about the beast? Why are you out here tonight?” The doctor’s breath lingered in the air as a fine mist, as if his words insisted on being seen.

Hereford composed himself as best he could. “Mrs Hereford is out here tonight,” he said quietly. “Pray, do not aggravate the beast. Leave it alone. Let it get another horse, or even all the sheep and cows within fifteen miles. Leave it be. Please.”

“Mrs Hereford,” the parson repeated in a horrified whisper. “How did she come out on such a night?”

“And at such a time!” the doctor protested. “Why, I’m expecting any moment to be called to assist in her delivery.”

“Hush!” the lieutenant said.

Silence pressed about them, as oppressive as the cold. Hereford’s breaths came with short, sharp rapidity. He thought he would give anything for another howl, a scrape, a growl--any sign of the beast’s location. Hereford licked his finger and tested the air, but the night was too still to determine which direction was downwind.

Instinctively, all four men positioned themselves back-to-back. The parson muttered prayers under his breath. Hereford silently offered a few of his own.

The tiniest movement of a shadow caught Hereford’s attention. He could just make out the beast’s yellow eyes, fixed on him from the darkness beside a broken stone wall.

Hereford dropped his arms to his sides. He forced his face into the most relaxed and soothing expression he could muster. Terror gripped his throat: fear of, and for, the beast. He compelled himself to smile gently at it nonetheless.

“Good evening,” he said sweetly. He took a slow step forward. “Yes, I see you there. We do not have to threaten each other.”

The other men whirled around, attempting to aim their guns at the as-yet-unseen shadow.

“Do you see it, Hereford?” the lieutenant asked.

“Rifles down, please,” Hereford answered. “The beast could already have attacked us. It chose not to.”

The doctor lowered his weapon, but the other two maintained their stances.

“Point it out, sir,” the parson said. “Let us end it before it gets at Mrs Hereford.”

Hereford moved slowly, trying with all his might to ignore the palpable tension seizing his body. He touched the bottom of the parson’s rifle barrel and nudged it slowly upwards. “Please trust me,” he said.

The parson hesitated, then allowed his gun to give way to Hereford’s touch.

“Lieutenant,” Hereford said.

“I think I see it,” the lieutenant declared. He adjusted his aim. “I think I see it.”

“Lieutenant, don’t,” Hereford said.

The beast took one nervous step backwards.

That small movement had been enough. The lieutenant shouted, “There!” and squeezed his trigger.

The beast yelped and ran. The lieutenant fired again; the parson and doctor took up their guns and followed suit. No one paid any heed to Hereford’s anguished shouts. More shots boomed in the night, with one more pained animal squeal.

Hereford sprinted after the beast. He followed the cobblestones out of the ruins, crossed the fishing-bridge, and passed the frozen pond. Increasingly large pools of blood shone on the moonlit ground as Hereford plunged into the rose garden.

He found Lucille in her human form, lying naked in the frost, surrounded by dead vines and dried rosehips. Her fine dark eyes stared at nothing. Her wounds slowly oozed.

A whining newborn wolf pup wriggled its way from Lucille’s lifeless legs up to her breast. It attempted to suckle.

Voices gasped in horror. The parson, lieutenant, and doctor had come up behind Hereford. The doctor placed his hand solemnly on Hereford’s shoulder. The parson said another prayer.

“Hereford,” the lieutenant said heavily. “I’m so sorry. I tried to protect her.” He paused. “Did…” He took a deep breath, as if fortifying his nerves. “Did you see the beast?”

“It died,” Hereford said. He rallied his strength. The baby needed him. “It must have been some sort of demon. The beast’s body vanished into thin air.”

He stooped and picked up the wolf pup.

The doctor examined Lucille’s body. “Hereford, why didn’t you say that the baby had come? I should have been called to assist Mrs Hereford.”

The wolf pup nuzzled into Hereford’s hands. Damp, cold, and desperate, it emitted a tiny whining sound. Hereford distractedly answered, “Mrs Hereford’s walk, and the business of the beast, had been rather pressing matters…” He recollected himself. “Yes, the baby is safe. Kind sirs, if you would be so good as to carry Mrs Hereford back to Bunbury Park? I want to handle the beast’s spawn myself.”

The lieutenant draped his coat over Lucille’s body and lifted her in his arms. He nodded wordlessly. The doctor and parson each clapped Hereford’s shoulder in a supportive way. The three of them proceeded through the rose garden and on towards the house.

Hereford returned to the cell in the abbey ruins. Lucille had prepared for the birth, though she’d counted on tending to the baby herself. There was a basin of warm water and a bowl of fresh cow’s milk. Hereford bathed the sweet little pup. Its mouth found his thumb and latched on, attempting again to suckle. Hereford soaked a clean rag in the milk and held it near the pup’s mouth. It drank with gusto.

Hereford laid down on the beast’s straw pallet, curled around the pup. He allowed himself to weep.

Some time later, he woke to the baby’s cry. Early morning sunlight trickled in from the doorway. His newborn daughter wiggled and bawled. She was helpless. She was precious. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He fed her again with cow milk and swaddled her in the remnants of her mother’s torn gown. Then he held her close and stepped out into the day.