The Statue of Hera

The black rolls drove into the grounds of Green Stag House. They passed through the rust ridden cast iron gates, a toothless gate keeper shot them a grin and shut the gates behind them. They drove slow along an avenue of lime, to their left an old pleasure maze, to their right, acres of gardens, all over grown and forgotten. They swerved a boating lake with fountain statue of Poseidon and his water nymphs in the centre. Cynthia peered into the moonlit gardens. She glimpsed a lone silver figure. Her skin prickled.

            ‘Who’s that woman?’ Cynthia said to her new husband, Lord Sotherbill.

            ‘Nothing dear, just an old statue of Hera.’

            ‘I thought I saw It move.’

            ‘It’s just a trick of the moonlight.’

Cynthia went quiet. The car drove on through the last of sheep nibbled estate. Green Stag house rose from the distance, high lit windows popped out of the blanket of night. The rolls hit the gravel, and they all got out. They were greeted by the staff, maids, butlers, gardeners, cooks. Cynthia told them to postpone the introductions until morning. One of the maids led her through the tall dark entrance hall, up the grand staircase to her bedrooms. The maids name was  Valeria; she was charged with the care of Lord Sotherbill’s new wife. She was Cynthia’s twenty-four-hour skivvy, on call for anything and everything she might request. She had a stool and desk set up in a closet with a bunk, adjacent to Cynthia’s bedroom.  The walls of her new bedroom suite were dark oak. It made the place feel darker than it was. Cynthia felt uneasy, but tiredness overtook her fears and she began to snooze.

TWO

In the morning Valeria greeted her with a dinner tray filled with: buttered toast, poached eggs, fresh coffee, fresh orange juice, and a bloody Mary. She told her leave the bloody Mary, and take the rest away.

            ‘Do you know the grounds well?’ said Cynthia, as she nibbled on the tomato washed celery.

            ‘Yes ma’am.’

            ‘Would you mind giving me a tour?’

            ‘Of course ma’am.’

            ‘Then let’ get going.’

            ‘May I change my shoes ma’am?’

            ‘Yes, but hurry up.’

Valeria helped Cynthia into her riding boots and they left the stale air. Outside, a thick dew had settled over the land, the night rain had left a chill. They walked round the lake, along the avenue, towards the maze.

            ‘I’m looking for a statue, do you know where the statue of Hera can be found?’

Valeria didn’t reply.

            ‘Hera? The queen of the gods?’

            ‘No ma’am, I don’t know anything about a statue.’

            ‘Then you don’t know the grounds well at all, can you get one of the gardeners?’

            ‘The game keeper knows the ground as well as anyone.’

Valeria sent for the game keeper. The game keeper bowed and led Cynthia to the statues in the rose garden. They walked up to the ring of the gods: Zeus, Apollo, Demeter, Artemis, Hades, but there was no statue of Hera.

            ‘Are you sure there is no statue of a woman on her own?’

The game keeper shook his head.

            ‘Not to my knowledge ma’am.’

            ‘There must be, my husband said there was a statue of Hera.’ Cynthia blew her breath out in disgust.  ‘I will have to find it myself.’  And she walked off.  Valeria followed.

            ‘Go back to the house, I want to be alone.’

            ‘Shall I bring you your luncheon ma’am?’

Cynthia didn’t reply. She marched along the towards the edge of the maze. She followed the road to the gate house and retraced her journey in the car. The gate keeper tipped his cap but said nothing. Cynthia made her way back along the road, looking left and right, searching for a lone statue. When she found the spot she expected it to be, she found nothing but overgrown lavender. She left the road and made her way through the brush. When she got to the spot where she was certain she saw the statue, all she found was a patch of dried earth. On the spot where the statue should have been there was nothing but dirt. All around it was weeds and grass, on the spot where the statue should have stood nothing grew, not even lichen or moss. It had either been weeded recently or the earth was contaminated , either that or a statue had been moved. Riddles was all she found.

            ‘What are you doing my darling?’ said Lord Sotherbill.

He had crept up to her while she was thinking deeply on the barren patch of soil.

            ‘This is it, this is where I saw the statue last night, but there’s nothing there but a dead patch of ground.’

Sotherbill’s face was shifting from frown to smile and back, as if the place made him uneasy.

            ‘Come away from here.’

            ‘Yes darling,’ said Cynthia.

He led her to the road and they walked back in silence. As they passed the wild kitchen garden, he pointed out a lone statue.

            ‘There you are my darling, there’s the statue of Hera.’

Cynthia’s brows wrinkled in puzzlement.

            ‘I could have sworn, I checked this bit in the morning.’

            ‘Maybe you missed it, there are many hidden gardens, let’s go back and have tea. Valeria told me you skipped breakfast and luncheon?’

            ‘Little snitch.’

            ‘She was worried my darling. I have trusted her with your care. I have instructed her to report any signs of illness, I don’t want you to get ill again.’

            ‘I am not ill, come to think of it, I don’t remember being ill since we’ve been married.’

            ‘No, of course you haven’t, I meant I didn’t want you to get ill, you are my rose, I can’t have you wilting.’

He looked through her, she shivered at his glance. He took her arm and led her back into the house.

THREE

That night Cynthia lay awake. She couldn’t stop thinking about the piece of barren earth. She felt disorientated as if she had walked round in a circle and missed the most blatant spot where Hera stood motionless. How did she miss it, did the gardens shift, did the statues get up and move? An image of the silver woman with pale white eyes filled her view. She opened her eyes and got dressed. Valeria had left her a glass of milk and a cheese scone. Cynthia ate it down and pulled on her walking coat. She opened the window to the balcony and saw an old iron fire escape. She climbed down in silence. The maid wouldn’t suspect her to leave through the window.

It was a grey moonlit night. Cynthia took the road with a mind to check the eyes of the statue. She didn’t believe a trick of the moonlight could light the sockets up so brightly as the night before. When she got to the edge of the kitchen garden, and looked at the spot where her husband had pointed out the lone statue of Hera, she gulped the cool air. There was no statue. Either she had gone the wrong way, or the statue had been moved, or had moved itself. The thought of a silver spectre wandering the gardens chilled her core. Instead of turning back, she went on in search of it. To admit defeat would be to admit there was something supernatural about the gardens, and she wanted to rest knowing that the statue was where it was supposed to be and she had just got lost.

She followed the road, checking right and left, finding nothing. She carried on all the way until the gate house. By that time, she was disorientated. She had lost her sense of direction because she was trying to orient herself by the position of a statue she could not find. The sweet smell of wood smoke drifted from the chimney of the gatehouse. Cynthia turned back to make a final check for the statue. She went along the lime avenue, past the maze. Beyond the hedge was the patch of dead ground. The place she knew she had seen the statue with the white eyes. She moved beyond the hedge and saw a solitary statue. She could not see its eyes. And she was nowhere near the kitchen garden. Her heart thumped. She was alone in the dark. You feel most alone, when you are in the cold night air, with no one to share it with. She didn’t run. She was determined to check the eyes and reassure herself that it was a statue and nothing more. Instead of following her instinct to rush back to the light of the house, she left the road and wandered closer through the wild herbs. When she was close enough she saw the statue had turned away. The face faced away from her so she couldn’t see the eyes.

“There must be another road. Another gate house, I must have gone wrong,” Cynthia thought to herself. She didn’t believe her own reasoning. When she was close enough to see the drape of the marble, the statue turned round. Two hollow white eyes looked back at her. The statue looked more like shreds of moth-eaten lace than aged marble. Cynthia fell from consciousness and lay on a bed of dew wet lavender.

FOUR

They found her in the morning awake and shivering. Lord Sotherbill stood over her with Valeria, and the local doctor. They picked her up and put her into the car and drove her back to her bed. They lit a fire in her room and left her to warm up. Outside the room a hush conversation between the doctor and Lord Sotherbill ran on, just above a whisper.

            ‘What is wrong with her doctor?’

            ‘I cannot be sure without further tests and observation, but it looks like she is suffering from some sort of delusion, she claims to have seen a figure, and she claims it moves from place to place as a statue of Hera. Is there a statue of Hera on the grounds?’

            ‘No,’ said Lord Sotherbill.

            ‘But there are statues?’ replied the doctor.

            ‘Yes, we have statues, but they don’t move, they stay right where they are, we have many Greek statues but none of Hera. She must have had some sort of vision, a schizophrenic vision.’

            ‘It’s too early to call it schizophrenia, many things can cause hallucinations, drugs, drug withdrawal, lack of food, lack of sleep, she may just need a rest and to have her stress removed, she may make a full recovery. But I prescribe rest, nutritious soups, red meat. And lack of stimulus, no coffee, no booze, no intoxicants of any kind. Except this sleeping tonic to aid her rest.’

            ‘Thank you doctor; I have my best maid looking after her. I shall instruct her to administer the tonic at night.’

            ‘Two drops before bed, not a drop more, it is very strong.’

Cynthia lay there half asleep. She was too cold to think about what see had seen. The made put three ceramic hot water bottles in her bed and she soon felt warm enough to snooze. Her simple dreams turned to nightmares of fire and burning. She woke up with a fever. The night in the garden had made her ill.

FIVE

Cynthia’s fever lasted three days. The doctor came back each day to check on her. He prescribed her fresh air and sunshine. They wheeled Cynthia to the boating lake the first warm day they got. The cool of march had turned warm. Valeria laid lunched on the green by the boat house. Cynthia hadn’t said a word since she fell in the lavender. She peered across the shimmering water of the lake.

            ‘What’s that building over there?’ said Cynthia. Valeria jumped up. It was the first thing she had spoken in a week.

            ‘That’s the old boat house ma’am.’

            ‘Old, why it looks perfectly usable from here.’

            ‘There was an accident.’

            ‘An accident.’

Valeria shut her mouth.

            ‘Answer me. What accident.’

            ‘I can say no more ma’am.’

            ‘I order you to tell me,’ said Cynthia, quivering with rage.

            ‘I am employed by the lord and my job won’t last if I tell you. I am sure.’

Cynthia got up from her chair and started to circle the lake towards the old boat house.

            ‘Don’t ma’am you’re not well enough.’

Valeria grabbed her arm.

            ‘Get your filthy washer woman hands off me. I will have you sacked.’

Valeria let go, silent tears in her eyes. Cynthia carried on. The old boat house was hidden in the shadows of a pine wood. It was a bright spring day, and yet the shadow over the boat house was thick as dusk. Mould and moss had taken on the walls and part of the jetty had begun to rot. Two ionic pillars held up a pediment over the water. She saw a boat with its hull rotted out leaning against the wall. When she got close she found the door was padlocked. “Why” she thought, it angered her. She wanted to get in. She pulled a mud covered rock out of the bank of the lake. With a swift bash she broke the lock off of the door. She kicked the door in and in the darkness she saw the statue of Hera. The one she had seen the day she arrived. It stood there motionless, its eyes black and dead. He heart tightened and she stifled a scream. She felt rage over take her fear. It wasn’t in her head. There was a statue and somebody was moving it around the grounds. Her mind went straight to her husband. And the fear returned. She didn’t feel strong enough to confront him. He had a distant look in his eyes that she had not seen before. It started after they were married, and took over the moment they passed through the gates of Green stag.

SIX

Cynthia walked back toward the house. Each step heavier than the last. She was married and had no way to leave. The grounds filled her with dread, as did the dark oak panelled halls. Valeria followed her around like a fart, reporting her every move to her husband. She was tied up in ropes of law. The freedom of her youth had been bought, and barbed wire briars wrapped around her preventing her from leaving. She was weak, the fever had gone, but she hadn’t the strength to try and escape the grounds of the estate. They watched her, they all watched her, and they were loyal to Sotherbill. She didn’t know if she had seen a statue or if it had moved like some wraith, some dead being disturbed by her presence. The doctor was always there to check her and he wrote it all down. Her personal medical notes were handed to Sotherbill, before she got a chance to read them. She felt as if her self-control was being taken away from her. Every night she had nightmares about a jealous spirit, she saw it wandering her dreams, looking up at her window with white pupil-less eyes. The more she tried to ask about the boat house, the less her husband spoke to her, until he stopped talking all together. She wondered why he had married her, if all he wanted to do was bring her back to his estate and lock her up in a room.

            One night her helplessness turned to rage. She got up and went to the fire escape. She wanted to escape. She forgot her coat, she just wanted to run. She ran barefoot through the night rain. She ran all the way to the gate house and found the gate was locked. She screamed and rattled the iron. Then she cried and blubbered, screaming out and sobbing. The gate keeper heard her distress and came out.

            ‘What’s the matter ma’am? Come out of the rain, your soaked. Come and have a warm.’

He led her into the gate house. He sat her by the fire and through a log on. He stoked it up and saw the steam drifting from her silk nighty. She was beautiful. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, drenched and shivering in his company. He made her a cup of tea, and cut some bread for toasting. She drank the tea and ate the toast.

            ‘What’s the matter?’

            ‘I…I…have to leave this place. I am not wanted here, and there is something haunting me. Something evil. I have to leave. The statue, the statue of Hera. It haunts me. Ever since I arrived.’

            ‘What about the lord?’

            ‘He doesn’t care, he shut me up in a room and left me to my nightmares. I have to get away from here. Do you know what happened at the boathouse? Valeria told me there was an accident.’

The gate keeper turned away from her.

            ‘Tell me what you know or I shall say you tried to force yourself upon me,’ said Cynthia. He had to obey.

            ‘The lord’s first wife drowned in the boat house.’

            ‘Drowned?’

            ‘Drowned. That’s all I know.’

            ‘And It was an accident.’

            ‘Yes.’

            ‘Who saw it?’

            ‘I was told lord Sotherbill and her went boating after a great family dinner party. They were drunk, and when she fell into the water, he was too drunk to fish her out. She drowned in the dock under the boat house. Three years ago. I have said all I know.’

            ‘Where is her grave?’

            ‘The was no grave. She was cremated and scattered in favourite part of the estate.’

            ‘Among the lavender’

The gate keeper fell silent. ‘Shall I call the house and have the car take you back ma’am?’

            ‘I will walk.’

            ‘But you’ve no shoes, nor coat.’

            ‘I will take one of yours, my feet are fine. It’s warm rain.’

Cynthia walked back to the house. The night rain fell on her. She was no longer afraid. She came to the edge of the maze. She looked across the lavender and saw Hera back in her original spot. Eyes as white as milk. She was not afraid.