Part Four
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Summary: Robbers murder a Duchess and her husband. Hours later, the Duchess reawakens and comes back to life but what could cause such a thing?
Disclaimer: The Doctor Who universe belongs to the BBC, and the various hard-working writers, actors and crews who created it. I don't make any profit from using it. The Duchess and Edwald are my own creations.

* * *

Katherine returned an hour later with several bags. She'd brought clothing, money and a red leather bag with papers from the Duchess' rooms. Sadly, the Duchess had decided to leave her book collections behind. If too much disappeared, then a thief would be suspected. The Duchess read the last letter from her mother again and decided that she knew where they were to go.

Edwald helped arrange the belongings on the two horses while the Duchess and Katherine said their final goodbyes.
"Farewell," said Katherine, tears brimming again. "I shall never forget you."
"Farewell, my favourite niece," smiled the Duchess, hugging her again.
Katherine spoke, her voice muffled against the Duchess' chest, "Being the favourite niece is hardly an impressive distinction when I am your only niece."
The Duchess clucked her tongue in mock disapproval, "Take compliments in the spirit they are given."

"Oh, I nearly forgot," said Katherine sheepishly, holding out the Duchess' necklace.
The Duchess took it gratefully. It was a strange necklace and she had never seen another like it. It was a flat square of polished silver hung on a silver chain. It caught the light beautifully and sparkled as well as any jewel but it was unusual nevertheless.

The Duchess touched Katherine's cheek once more in farewell and then joined Edwald by the horses. Edwald disturbed Sherlock from the stallion's saddle and helped the Duchess to mount. Edwald mounted the mare, Sherlock settled on his shoulder again and they set off down the road. Katherine waved and watched them until they were out of sight around the corner. Then she hiked up her skirts and ran back to the manor to spread the tragic news that both the Duke and the Duchess had been killed.

* * *

The Duchess led the way to the coast, never giving a precise answer when Edwald asked about their destination. Instead she clung tightly to the red leather bag. Whenever they stopped for the night, whether at an inn or in the woods, she kept the bag by her side.

"Where are we going, your Grace?" asked Edwald one night, when neither of them could sleep by their campfire.
"We are chasing down a fantasy and a fairytale, Edwald," answered the Duchess, looking up from the letters in her lap.
She offered one of the letters to him but he blushed and did not take it.
"Forgive me, your Grace but I do not read well," he stammered.

The Duchess looked surprised and took the letter back.
"I did not know that Edwald," she said, neither apologetic nor disapproving. "The letter was written by my mother, to be handed down to me after her death. In it she tells a story about a love for a man who was not of this world. My mother writes that she married him and spent years in strange lands with fantastical creatures. However, her husband's people would tolerate her but they never accepted her. She grew more and more unhappy until she returned alone to England. At least, she thought she was alone."

"She was not alone, your Grace?" asked Edwald.
"No, Edwald. She was with child - a daughter," said the Duchess, indicating herself. "She writes that she left a son with her husband, so that he would be raised by his father's people. To leave behind her own son nearly killed her, so when she realised that she was blessed with a second child, she could not make the same decision again. She decided to keep that child."
"Is that where we are going, your Grace?" asked Edwald. "To find your father and your brother?"
The Duchess shrugged, "I do not know that I will be any happier knowing them than my mother was. But I do need some answers."
The Duchess turned away, pulling her blanket close around her to forestall any more questions. Edwald's words died on his lips and he dreamed of a sobbing mother and a brother who looked suspiciously like his own.

The next morning, they entered the next county and the Duchess' confidence seemed to wane. Every time their road came to a fork, she would pull out her mother's letter and consult it with a great deal of concentration. Several times they started down a road only to backtrack later. The closer they got to the coast, the more nervous the Duchess became.

"Where are we going, your Grace?" asked Edwald, for the fifth time, as they approached a harbour town.
"Not there," said the Duchess firmly, turning off the road and into the woods.
They rode the horses through the woods and up to a hill. When they reached a rock outcrop, the Duchess dismounted.
"If I've followed my mother's directions correctly," said the Duchess. "It should be near here."
"What should be here, your Grace?" asked Edwald, believing that the simplest questions were always the best.
"My answers, Edwald," shrugged the Duchess. "What else?"

She tied the stallion to a tree and began to climb over the rocks. Edwald tied the mare up and followed her. He tried not to look when the Duchess' skirts snagged or blew in an unfortunate direction. In truth, the Duchess was probably so preoccupied that she would not have noticed if he had been less than a gentleman.

She reached a crevice and began to work her way down into the darkness.
"Your Grace," called Edwald. "Are you sure this is wise?"
"I can no longer tell if it is or if it is not. But I am going, make no mistake about that," came the Duchess' answer.

Sighing, Edwald wormed his way down into the crevice. The rock walls were smooth but on an angle so that there was a surface to push against. The further down Edwald went, the closer the two walls became. He was just beginning to worry about becoming stuck when his feet touched level ground.

There was very little light but he could see that the crevice had opened into a small underground cavern. At first, the cavern seemed empty and dusty. Then his eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the Duchess on the other side of the cavern. He walked towards her, trying to see what had caught her attention. Set against the wall of the cavern was a giant trunk of wood. Following the Duchess' gaze, he looked up to the top of the trunk.

The top half of the wood was carved into the flowing features of a woman's head and torso. Her hair was streaming out behind her in an unreal breeze until it encircled the wooden trunk behind her. Flowers and seashells were plaited in amongst the mass of hair. The giant face was about two feet wide and it looked down at them with a gentle yet triumphant smile. It was high enough that the head very nearly brushed the ceiling of the cavern. Her hands were flung out behind her, the outstretched fingers playing in the same ethereal wind that drew out the hair. The carving's waist disappeared in a weaving of grooves into the solid trunk.

"It's like the figurehead of a great ship," said Edwald. "Its magnificent, your Grace."
While the trunk itself stretched all the way to the ground in front of Edwald, its surface was smooth. The carving was higher up the trunk and he had to stretch onto his toes to be able to reach even the lowest edge of the artwork.

"It is magnificent from the outside, isn't it," agreed the Duchess, looking up at the wooden woman in wonder.
Edwald paused, "The outside, your Grace?"
The Duchess turned and looked at him in the darkness. He thought she was smiling at him.

She took a step towards the bare trunk in front of her, feeling it with her fingers. She found a small groove with her fingers and smiled in satisfaction. She took the necklace from around her neck and slid the flat sheet of metal into the groove.

Cracks suddenly appeared across the wooden trunk and Edwald jumped back. He was about to entreat the Duchess to flee when he realised that the cracks were not random. They were long, clear cracks that formed an upright rectangle taller than Edwald's head but not quite reaching up to disturb the wooden woman. It was a door.

The Duchess pushed and the door swung inwards, leading into the statue and the rock face. She paused on the threshold and looked back at Edwald.
"You do not have to come in, Edwald," she told him. "I have found what my mother sent me to seek."
"I could not in good conscience let you go in alone, your Grace," objected Edwald.
"You have been my sole companion for this journey, Edwald. You wanted my forgiveness? You have it," said the Duchess, eyes twinkling. "I believe I have another journey to take and I cannot tell how long it shall be."

Edwald considered her for a moment. He thought about his brother, probably in jail or dead by now. He thought about the life he had once led, as a proud servant of a Lord in southern England. There was a joy and contentment that came from being needed, from being useful and from being indispensable to people you respected.

"I know you have released me from my obligation, your Grace," said Edwald. "But if you do not know how long this journey will take, then you will need somebody to watch out for you. If nothing else, you will need the company that only another person can bring. Please do not send me away."

"If you come with me, Edwald," she said cautiously. "I cannot guarantee your safety or what we might encounter."
"No, your Grace," agreed Edwald. "But I can guarantee to serve you faithfully for as long as you have need of me."
Sherlock flexed his wings in apparent agreement. The Duchess opened her mouth but could not think of another way to dissuade them.
"Very well," she said. "I shall be glad of the company."
She walked through the doorway into the statue with Edwald and Sherlock behind her. Her old life was over but it seemed that she had another one to handle yet.

THE END

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