No Spring Chicken

Thump thump thump

Catherine stirred from a deep slumber. “Did you hear that?” The thumping continued. “Ralph.”

Ralph slept, unbothered by the commotion. 

Catherine enjoyed telling anyone who’d listen that Ralph slept like a dead man. He could sleep through anything, a hurricane, a cannon blast, a mob at their door. Though tonight she found it less than humorous. “Ralph, wake up.”

“Wha—? What, what is it?”

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Listen.”

All he could hear was the hush of the wind.

“Go back to sleep, darling.”

Thump thump thump

“There, Ralph. Did you hear that?”

“I did.”

Another volley of thumps sounded before the noise fell silent again.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are they trying to get in?”

“I don’t know, Catherine. Please, be quiet.”

“Ralph, I swear to go—”

“Shh. Catherine, please.”

The murmuring wind gave way to whispers. Two men, maybe three, their tone argumentative, which worried Ralph. Arguing men were much more dangerous than calm competent intruders.

Thump thump thump

Straining to listen, Ralph and Catherine nearly jumped out of what was left of their skin as the thumping resounded anew.

“Oh, my god, Ralph. They are trying to break in.”

“Quiet, darling.”

Again, the thumping ceased, the intruders resuming their whispering arguments.

“What do they want, Ralph?”

“I don’t know, darling.”

“Could it be my jewels?”

“You only have the single locket dear—”

“Or even more nefarious, come to pry the gold teeth from our mouths? The sadists.”

“Your teeth are actually filled with—”

“Or…” She gasped at her own macabre thoughts.

“What?”

“Or… do they want to have their way with me?”

Ralph didn’t laugh, though his timbre carried a subtle tone of bemusement "Of course not, dear.” 

“And why not?”

“Well, darling because you’re—”

“Too old?”

Ralph knew better than to agree, though that was what he was thinking. Or at least a synonym of the sentiment. “Of course not, darling. You’re as lovely as the day we married. I just don’t think an intruder would break in here to…” He weighed his words before recalling how she had put it “...have their way with you.”

“You don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“I do. I do. I just think that the last thing you need to worry about is these intruders taking advantage of you.”

“Just admit it. You think I’m ancient and no man would have me.”

“I think any man would be lucky to have you but you’re… no spring chicken.”

She gasped. “I knew it.”

Thump thump thump

Catherine stifled a scream. 

Ralph steeled himself, wanting nothing more than to comfort his betrothed. “Fear not, my love. Only men of weak moral character come to thieve.”

“But that’s what I’m worried of. If they’re men with no morals they could be capable of anything.”

Ralph could hear that his wife was near tears. Though he knew she was incapable of crying, and found her fears to be hysterical and clearly unwarranted, he still felt the strong urge to assuage her terror. “I swear to you dear, I will not let these men lay a hand on you.”

“Oh, Ralph, I always feel safe with you.”

“As you should, my love.”

There were, indeed, three of them. One held a lantern while the other two took turns prying at the heavy mausoleum door. They were men of the worst repute, the scum of the earth, the vilest of thieves. They were grave robbers.

“Give it here, Nigel.” He snatched the crowbar from Nigel, pushing him aside and tried his hand with it, thumping it against the seam of the door where they had chipped away enough stone to find purchase with the lever. “If you want something done…” He grunted as he strained.

The monolithic stone door budged with the heavy grinding of granite. A crack slid open at its edge, releasing a dusty, dry, ancient gasp of stale air.

“I loosened it for you,” Nigel muttered. 

“Shut up, Nigel.” He adjusted the bar deeper into the crack for better leverage. “Give me a hand here.”

Nigel grumbled under his breath as he sidled up beside his cohort and dug his fingers into the thin fissure. They strained against the stubborn blockade.

“Come on, boy,” Nigel barked through gritted teeth. 

The boy jumped to, setting his lantern down and hustling over, hunching to find an open space between the other thieves.

With a chorus of groans and a volley of curses the trio managed to slide the crypt door enough for a body to shimmy through. They fell back, hands on their knees, panting.

“Fetch me the lantern,” He ordered, still out of breath.

The boy scooped up the lantern and handed it over. “‘Ere you are, Andy, sir.”

Andy snatched it from him and held it up to the inky black of the new opening. He steeled his nerves, waved for the others to follow and stepped through.

They gathered together, Nigel and the boy surveying the crypts and sarcophagi over Andy’s shoulder, the glow of the lantern seemingly swallowed by the dark of the crypt. Andy poked a stick of tinder to the flame of the lantern until it glowed and set it to a torch jutting from a sconce on the wall. Its flame grew long, casting the tomb in an orange glow.

“Alright, boys.” Andy spoke in a grumbling whisper. “Nigel, you search for jewels and coins.”

“Aye,” Nigel whispered.

“Boy,” with his free hand Andy produced a pair of worn pliers, “pry the gold teeth from their heads.”

The boy took the pliers. “Right away, Andy, sir.”

The trio split up, Nigel and the boy strafing off to either side, Andy moving to the shadowy end of the rows. He raised his lantern to the names on the coffin niches, passing his light along them, illuminating the engraved names. He stopped at a tandem niche.

Sir Ralph & Catherine Rutherford. 

Andy grasped the handle of the niche door, “And now…” before glancing over his shoulder to assure his accomplices were occupied,” to have my way with them.” The hinges creaked a harsh peal. Andy raised his lantern to the pitch black of the alcove.

Clumps of rotten flesh dangled from Ralph’s skull, the lantern light reflected in the vacuum of his empty eyes, his grinning teeth rattling as he growled. “Be gone, knave!”

Andy’s knees knocked, his bladder relieved, the scream, caught in his throat, roared to a terrible timbre. He dropped his lantern. It crashed in a burst of flames and Andy ran, trailing indiscernible rantings of ghosts and demons behind him. 

Catherine’s voice was filled with love and admiration. “My hero. I’m always safe with you, Ralph.”

“Of course you are, darling.”