Chapters The Murder of Willow Marten
Come all you thoughtless young folk, a warning take by me,
And think upon my unhappy fate to be hanged upon a tree;
My name is Berry Cordial, to you I do declare,
I courted Willow Marten, most beautiful and fair.
Canterlot lay quiet and motionless on a deeply cold winter night. The sound of the wind whipping the window panes of the master bedroom was only interrupted by the occasional page turn or sip of coffee. Twilight was up late again, yet only because her friends would burst in any minute to wake her up again. The bookshelves in this part of the tower were thankfully adequate enough; it was too darn cold to put some slippers on and make the journey to the Castle Library.
Astronomy was impossible on a night like this, and Twilight was far too tired to practise anything. So instead she half buried herself in a dusty old book for children. It was about treasure and pirates, and actually rather good. She shifted off the thick pile of blankets and cushions surrounding her in her armchair and made her way toward the fire to put the kettle back on.
The irregular clack of hoofsteps, accompanied by frantic squeals and hushing coming up the grand staircase could only be the rest of the gang. Twilight quickly raced back underneath her blankets before the door swung open and sucked all of the heat from the room.
“Oh hi there, Twilight! You're awake!” bounced Pinkie as she jumped out of her bright blue boots and grabbed the prime spot in front of the fire.
“I've been asleep all day, so yeah...”
“As you should have been, dearest. You don't want to be feeling miserable all the way back to Ponyville, do you?”
“No... You're right. Well, where's Fluttershy? And Rainbow?”
“They said they'd be five minutes after us...” slurred Applejack. She was looking exhausted and waddled her way over to her bed. After mustering all that effort, she treated herself to a slump on the mattress, but had to try hard not to fall asleep there and then.
“So, was it good?”
“Oh, you couldn't possibly imagine...”, Rarity gasped. “Mr Starr was absolutely fabulous. I mean, at one point... I though he was looking at me ! Oh, and the costumes were simply divine . The way they seamlessly brought old to the new was incredible, I should have taken notes... But I do feel terribly sorry we left you here...”
“No, please don't...” Twilight pleaded, “It was the only reason we came here, and it would have been such a waste for everyone if we went home just because I wasn't feeling right...”
“Now I'm the one feelin' 'not right'. Ah think I ate too much.” moaned Applejack as she made her way to the comfy chair opposite Twilight and let out what was in between a belch and a yawn.
“So, did you get any merch?”
“Oh, do you really take me for somepony who would do that?” grinned Rarity. “Pinkie bought herself a tacky bracelet thing, there was no way she was going to spend my money on it...”
“Can I see it on you, Pinkie?”
“Uuh... I lost it when we were dancing!”
“I'm not surprised the way you were dancing, Pinkie. You went an' hit me at one point!”
“Yeah, I know... But gosh was it fun though!”
At this point, Applejack leapt out of her seat and stumbled to the window, before chundering outside.
“AJ! What the hay are you doing! This is the castle! If everypony can see that in the morning, I will... regret I ever met you.”
“You don't mean that, do you Twilight? Anyway, somepony's been having too much cider and pie for one evening haven't they, Applejack...”
“Nah... nah... I'm still... standing...” she slurred before leaning over to one side, and collapsing neatly onto her bed.
The three girls still conscious giggled for a while before falling into silence as one to watch the fire. The wind had died, and only the crackling of the burning logs hung in the air. Twilight picked up the book she had selfishly left upside down on the armrest of her chair, and cursed herself for it. Those bindings are nasty to repair.
Just as she had fully immersed herself in the dreamy world of ships and pirates, the door burst open again, accompanied by another burst of biting cold. Flying in with enormous grins and squeals were Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, each holding a thin square paper bag. Rainbow gave hers to Fluttershy, and began racing around the bedchamber, looking high and low in all the nooks, crannies and cupboards.
“Oh, hello Twilight!” said Fluttershy as she sauntered over to the chez long “You wouldn't believe what we have!” She unwrapped her paper bag to reveal a gleaming new record.
Davie (The Rock) Starr
The Red Barn LP
12 Popular Folk Songs From Across Equestria
(Including his #1 Hit, The Murder of Willow Marten)
Fluttershy was eager to point out the signature she had acquired in the bottom corner of the album cover; she hadn't stopped grinning since the moment she came in. Rainbow stuggled her way down from a high shelf carrying an aged cardboard box. She and Fluttershy placed it on the dresser to the right of the fireplace and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful redwood record player.
“All right, which one do we play?”
“Mine! MINE!” squealed Fluttershy, as she rushed over, slipping the disk out of it's sleeve and popping it in the player. Rainbow screwed the horn on, and set the disk to spin at 78rpm. The girls watched in awe as she gently placed the needle on the edge of the disk.
A small crackle and pop emitted from the player, followed by silence. Fluttershy was all set to be heavily disappointed by a broken disk, when a faint violin began to play from the horn. The noise grew and grew until a delicate, but intricate solo filled the room. Then the violin stopped. And the whole band came in.
The wondrous melting pot of layers and textures pounded the senses like nothing else. Your heartbeat changed as the drums took over your body, the drone of the hurdy gurdy haunted your soul, the guitars were the backing track to your very existence. And now two violins came in force, dancing back and fourth in your mind; each unlike the other, but speaking in total harmony. The band stopped, only leaving the simple but haunting drone. Then Davie's voice came in. It was a voice that could move mountains, yet with the force of a gentle autumnal breeze.
Up until the early hours of the morning they listened to the record over and over again. Rainbow would get up and put the needle back to the beginning almost as soon as the final song was over; but not until it was truly over, when the echoes had finally escaped your mind.
One by one they drifted into a heavy slumber, with the exception of Twilight. When the final song was over, she didn't go over to put the needle back to the beginning; she didn't want to wake anyone up. Instead she sat staring at the smouldering embers in the fireplace, imagining those same songs in her head. They made an excellent soundtrack to the dusty old book she had continued reading.
After waking up an uncooperative Applejack from her cider induced slumber, they went downstairs for breakfast. With the exception of Twilight and Applejack, they all ate heartily after their energetic sortie the previous night. They each thanked Princess Celestia for letting them stay in the Castle that weekend, and Rainbow politely begged to keep the record player, after realising she had none at home.
So with an extra cardboard box in tow, they made their way onto the platform to wait for the next train to Ponyville. They each gave Twilight their own account of what happened the previous night, all the gossip, news and spectacles. After much chatting and ribbing Applejack after her being reportedly seen up close and personal with another stallion, they finally made their way on board the train home.
It was a long journey, and with their own private compartment, most of the girls fell asleep. Twilight however had a tune going round her head. She unboxed the record player and placed it on the floor of the compartment. Instead of screwing in the horn, she put in a cable leading to a pair of earmuffs that put the sound directly to your ears, which amused Twilight a lot. They were very practical earmuffs too, what with even the inside of the carriage being frightfully cold.
Her restless mind was put at ease when that song played into her head. It was a story, a true story nonetheless. Her inquisitive student mind wanted to know more about The Murder of Willow Marten.
The Murder of Willow Marten
I promised I would marry her upon a certain day
Instead of that I was resolved to take her life away
I went unto her fathers house, the eighteenth day of May
And said 'My dear Willow, we will fix the wedding day'
Twilight bolted awake and upright without knowing why. She was then prodded again by the blue pegasus sat next to her. She clasped her hooves around her head, realising that the sound muffs were missing. Rarity gave a cheerful wave from across the compartment; she had removed them from the sleeping Twilight not more than an hour ago.
“Afternoon, sleepy!” slurred Applejack from underneath a selection of hastily gathered complimentary towels and blankets, probably from other empty compartments. Twilight felt incredibly uncomfortable; she needed sound going into her ears. She needed that song. She however fought the urge to appear deluded to her friends and made an oath to buy a record player and Davie Starr’s LP.
The countryside rolled by the window again after they made their last stop. Dash and Applejack were in giggling fits after playing around with the speed slider to make the record play fast and slow, fast and slow in quick succession. The six of them had made enough heat to take the bite out of the air, but Twilight still asked politely for the sound muffs off Rarity, even though no music was playing through them.
They slowly chuffed into the station and ground to a halt at around late afternoon. As they stumbled out onto the platform to stretch their legs off, they were greeted by a thin layer of snow. Twilight said her farewells, and after giving Rainbow her sound muffs, immediately made her way to the second hoof shop in the centre of town.
The peace and quiet gnawed at Twilight's skull as she crumped through the snow. Everywhere she looked, the sun reflecting off the polished white earth blinded her. She burst into the shop and headed straight for the counter. She stopped frantically ringing the bell after she realised she was being terribly rude. Eventually an aged brown gentlecolt slowly came down the stairs.
“And how can I help you, young missy?” he inquired with a delicate, wise smile.
“I'm looking for a record player. Oh, and those sound earmuff things.”
The gentlecolt made his way out from behind the counter and off into the bowels of the shop. He disappeared from sight, before he popped his head round the corner and bade Twilight follow him.
The shop was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. That wasn't an opinion, Twilight could feel the magic on this place. They walked past some fascinating odds and ends, Twilight felt ashamed she had never felt the urge to investigate this wonderful shop. They walked past crystal display cases of all shapes and sizes, each containing random dusty items, each different from one another. Some seemed like absolutely useless trinkets, but the gentlecolt creepily butted in.
“They all have their importance to somepony, remember that. How many ponies can you think of that are desperate for a second hoof record player?”
“Desperate?”
“Yes, Miss Sparkle. Desperate.” Twilight was beyond the point of belief, but stayed quiet as she was led deeper into the treasure trove. They finally arrived at a beautiful cupboard dresser, with carvings of ships at sea on either side, and seagulls on the doors. She had it half in mind to buy the dresser, but she was low on coin, and the record player was an absolute priority.
Out of the dresser was brought a clean cardboard box. It smelt new. The gentlecolt took a small silver knife out of his waistcoat and sawed at the tape covering the lid. Twilight peered inside and there it was. It was identical to the record player Rainbow had found back at the Castle, except this one hadn't been opened since the day it was bought.
The wood was a deep polished red, the swirls and shapes of solid gold lay untarnished. It was a truly breathtaking piece of art, for what Twilight assumed was a mere machine. There was even a pair of purple sound muffs included for free, so the box said. Yet a terrifying thought suddenly flooded her mind.
“And how much will this cost?” she asked, fearing the worst. It was in terrific condition after all.
“It is yours for ten bits.”. Twilight was truly stunned. She dug into her coat pockets and brought out two silver coins and passed them over to him. He sealed the box up again and placed it on top of the dresser.
“Will you be all right carrying this home with you, Miss?”
“Oh yes, I'll be fine... Thank you!”. Twilight levitated the box in front of her and made her way back through the incredible maze of antiques and out into the street. On the way back to the library, she made a stop at the post office to make a postal order of Davie Starr's album. She was prepared to fork out the extra bits to have it sent by dragon; the earlier she was listening to it, the happier she would be.
She hummed The Murder of Willow Marten all the way back home. She could pick out all of the individual parts and have them do what she wanted. She slowly began to create her own version of the song. By the time she had reached her street, she was full on dancing to her own head. The music crescendoed and slowed before coming to a deafening and earth shaking conclusion as soon as she had opened her front door and stepped inside.
“Hey Spike! I'm home!”. She was eager to tell Spike how the trip went, even though she had a rather less energetic time than her peers. Yet she did have breakfast with the Princess, which sort of made up for it. But Spike was not home. Twilight took some time to remove the panic from her mind; she acknowledged Spike was a perfectly reasonable and responsible young dragon, and getting out of the library once in a while is no bad thing.
She had her thoughts to herself for far too long though, for the craving returned in force. She immediately looked for something to do, but the library was already in an immaculate state. She wasn't hungry, and she was too tired still to learn perhaps a new spell. So instead she slumped on the floor and sulked.
She tried sighing loudly. She tried moaning at the ceiling. She even screamed once or twice. Yet still that record wouldn't come any faster. She got a tune into her head of another song from the album, and went over to make herself a mug of coffee, before curling up in her favourite chair.
It was an hour before a thin square package apparated in the centre of the library, accompanied by a loud -poof-. Twilight let off a small squeal of excitement as she ravished the brown wrapping paper as if it was her birthday.
The sleeve of the record was so smooth and shiny. She delicately put the record on the floor as she shifted the box containing the record player over in front of her armchair. She gently prised open the sleeve, to be greeted by a fascinating smell. The record fitted perfectly inside the player, and the sleeve notes told her it was to be played at 78rpm. So she adjusted the lever accordingly.
And so as the needle entered the spinning groove, her imagination wallowed once more in sweet music.
The Murder of Willow Marten
If you will meet me at the Red Barn, as sure as I have life,
I will take you to Canterlot, and there make you my wife.
I then went home and fetched my lamp, my pickaxe and my spade,
I went unto the Red Barn, and there I dug her grave.
The story was what fascinated Twilight the most. The happy stallion, due to be wed. The joyful parents, anticipating a beautiful partnership. The poor filly, killed in cold blood in what was a mere fit of psychotic rage. Why? What in Celestia's name was the motive for the whole ordeal?
She listened to the song just one more time, for time's sake, and then got to work. She headed downstairs into the cellar. There were some important chests here. After having a tough time levitating them back to the ground floor, she dumped them on the ground and opened them up.
The chests were full to the brim of old newspapers; a perfectly preserved window into the past. What was she looking for? Murders were so incredibly rare, but with tens of thousands of weekly tabloids in here, the chances of finding it was slim.
Time period. The song used some reasonably old language, but not too far in the distant past. Twilight picked out all of the chests containing papers before two hundred years ago and put them to one side. Unfortunately this was not a large number, as very few newspaper editions existed before then.
But by extension, the most recent years could go to one side too. This was not an event in living memory; Twilight was sure Granny Smith would have told this story if it happened in her lifetime. She would have told it if it was her grandparents' story too. So the last hundred and fifty years could go. Yet still a large pile remained.
Location. One verse mentions Canterlot. But they obviously never went there as the marriage never took place. The courts of law are in Canterlot too, but just because the trial took place there doesn't mean the murder did. However there could have been a story on it. But Canterlot newspapers came out daily, so their pile was massive. Yet there was the Red Barn. Twilight struggled to make a conclusion until she had a revelation.
Sweet Apple Acres has existed for generations, and Ponyville Town Hall has been used as a court in years gone by. Plus it has a red barn... So Ponyville was where Berry Cordial lived and where the murder took place. So Twilight picked out the manageable pile of Ponyville papers, and began sifting through from the top.
The pile took over two hours to work through, and in that time Spike had returned from wherever he had been. Twilight had no intention of asking, and Spike had no intention of telling. While he went to bed, she finally found the issue she was looking for.
THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF BERRY CORDIAL
flooded the front page, accompanied by a pencil drawing of the courtroom. In the witness stand was the distraught mother, desperately and uncontrollably tearing her hair out. The father stood tall and stoic, giving a glare like daggers to the defence lawyer.
The jury was frantically muttering to one another, and the enormous crowds that had gathered to watch a once in a lifetime spectacle were in a total uproar. The guards and officers were up and shouting at the mob to gain control, and were rushing about the place like scurrying mice.
And stood still and solemn amongst the utter chaos was the accused. Berry Cordial, the murderer. Yet the way his ghostly eyes stared at the floor in front of him said otherwise. He looked so desperately sorry, that an ordinary pony would argue he didn't do it. Twilight certainly agreed, and felt sorry for the stallion.
But that feeling felt strange, too strange in fact. How can you feel sorry for a cold blooded killer, she asked herself over and over. She read on.
Since the tragical affair Thurtell and Weave, no event has occurred connected with the criminal annals of Equestria which has exited to much interest as the trial of Berry Cordial, who was justly convicted of the murder of Willow Marten on Friday last.
Cordial entered a plea of not guilty. The exact cause of death could not be established. It was thought that a sharp instrument, possibly Cordial's short sword, had been plunged into Marten's eye socket, but this wound could also have been caused by her father's spade when he was exhuming the body.
He admitted to being in the barn with Willow but stated he had left after they argued. He claimed that while he was walking away he heard spell being cast and running back to the barn, found Maria dead with his hoofkerchief beside her.
After several meetings with the prison governor, entreaties from his father, and pleas from the family of Willow, he finally confessed.
The confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our presence, who stated most solemnly that it was true, and that he had nothing to add to or retract from it.
Judge Justice Judge then issued the sentence: “That you be taken back to the prison from whence you came, and that you be taken from thence, on Monday next, to a place of Execution, and that you there be hanged by the Neck until you are Dead; and may Celestia Almighty, of her infinite goodness, have mercy on your soul.”
A plea of 'not guilty' then an instant confession? The story did not add up, neither in the paper nor in the song. Twilight needed to know more. She knew exactly what to do. Out of the drawer came a roll of parchment and a quill. She was going to make a list.
First question. Why did Willow have to die?
Second question. How did this spur Berry Cordial on to kill her?
Third question. Why did he plead guilty when the governor came forward?
She sat pondering, and came to a conclusion her better instincts did not like. If no books will tell me what I want to know, then I must go back and find out for myself. So to the bookshelves it was; Twilight needed a spell to send her back in time, but not an ordinary one. That was far too dangerous, she only needed to observe the events unfolding.
In a handy tome entitled 'All One Needeth To Know About Time' she found a good selection of spells that would get the job done. One would create a separate time stream that you could alter without consequence to your own universe, but the energy needed for that was phenomenal.
The second put you in the viewpoint of anyone from history, yet you would retain your consciousness. You would just not be in control of the host. The third put an ethereal projection of yourself at ant point in time. You could safely view events from your own body, without having to interact with anyone or anything.
Despite the third being a darn sight more complicated that the second, it was easier than the first, and preferable to the two. And so she got to work. She needed a simple selection of oils and herbs to draw a protective ring and anaesthetize herself respectively. Then the magic itself was uncomplicated, just strenuous.
She drew an oval in primrose oil on the floor, and drew six lines like spokes on a wheel to the centre in lavender. She drank more herbs in water, and felt her body's senses release from her. She made her way to the centre of the oval and lay flat on her back, legs splayed outwards. She charged some pure magic in her horn, and gently touched the floor. A ring of yellow light entombed her in the circle, and the lines of lavender detached themselves from the floor, and wrapped Twilight like she was in chains.
Next came the time spell proper. The date. No. Not the date. Five months before. She must know how Willow and Berry met. It would be January. Location. Ponyville. Where? Not the Library, there could be nothing here. The Red Barn? Yes. Nopony can see me anyway. Okay. Here we go.
The pure magic stored in her horn evolved into the spell. Her head was crushed under the strain as the horn pulsated, sending shockwaves down her body. The pulses grew larger and faster until a screaming solid light emitted from the horn. She was ready. She slowly leaned her head backward, and lightly touched the floor with her horn.
Her body instantly felt like it was being wrenched into pieces. She was not in pain, presumably because of the numbing potion, but the feeling was excruciatingly uncomfortable. Piece by piece, she was put back together in the black void she was travelling through faster that the speed of magic and burst into a cold and dark barn. The red barn.
She picked herself up off the floor and went to brush herself off, but nothing had stuck. She galloped to the door and pushed, but it would not move. Her quick theory was correct. No straw could have stuck to her because I cannot interact with anything here. I am a ghost. The great barn doors didn't even rattle when she thumped them hard.
She sat on a bale of hay that was very uncomfortable, as the straw wouldn't budge to accommodate the shape of her flank; she may well have been sat on rough concrete. She then had a fleeting thought minutes later that she cursed herself for not coming up with earlier. She cast a spell that allowed her to pass through walls.
She threw up on the ground after squeezing through the barn doors. Her insides felt they had been turned inside out and pulverised, and she could still taste old wood and paint. Just like the Ponyville she had left, there was a small spattering of snow on the ground, and the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky.
The barn hadn't obviously changed for hundreds of years, no wonder Applejack was keen to see it restored exactly as it was after the parasprites chomped it to the ground. She turned round again and had another look at Ponyville. The town looked so much the same, except it was smaller. Many buildings were missing, such as her library, and Fluttershy's and Rainbow's houses. The town hall was also much... bigger.
This old town hall had an entire wing tacked on the side that was the same shape and size as the present hall. Which was rather amusing. And so to business. Twilight only had a pencil drawing to go off, but it shouldn't be too hard to pick out the important faces if they were right in front of her. Lo and behold, one did appear in front of her.
Cantering quickly towards the barn was a rather distraught looking Willow Marten. She recognised the long flowing hair and large eyes from another drawing in the paper. Twilight panicked. No, this wasn't the day, was it? Have I got my date wrong? But no, she looks too sad. 'If you meet me at the Red Barn...and there make you my wife'. So she's here for another reason...
Willow stopped in front of the doors and turned around to look at the town behind her. A solitary tear fell down her face as she turned full circle and made her way inside the barn. Twilight prepared for another squeeze.
Willow cried and moaned for an hour. Twilight gave herself a kick after she started being bored with the whole ordeal. It's much more difficult to sit and watch somepony in pain than to go and talk to them. Suddenly the great door creaked open. Willow and Twilight snapped their heads round to see a head peek around the door. She was a cream coloured pony with a small face plastered in freckles, wearing a rather crude pear of spectacles. Her dark straight hair covered part of her face, and she looked out of place for two hundred years in the past.
“Verity, you should not be near me. If my father sees me in your company, especially after recent events...”. She broke into an unstoppable torrent of tears. “Oh, how can it possibly get any worse than this, Verity?” she sobbed.
“Ah don't know friend... but what if your father was wrong..?” Verity said as she came closer and sat beside Willow.
“It means nothing whether my father was wrong or not, he will have his way, and I cannot see how I can have my life back the way it was... I wish I never met Berry at all...”
Twilight was just as shocked as Verity. “Now come on, Willow... you really don't mean that.” she said matter-of-factly. “It was fate you two were meant ter be together... It was chance that... ye'know...”
“YOU KNOW, WHAT?” screamed Willow. “YOU THINK I WANT TO FORGET?”. She exhaled and gathered herself up again. “I love my father too much to let him down like this. I shall remember I was foolish enough to do so, and I sincerely hope that Berry has the decency to understand that. If he wants to start again proper, I am willing to forgive him, and I think my father will too. We after all can have more children, but it was never about that... I hurt my father's pride. And their death has put that to rights. We can start over.”
“Willow, I love you like you were my own sister. But you seriously don't believe that your children... died... naturally?”
“What the hay are you suggesting.”. Twilight shivered from the ice cold sincerity, things could only get worse from here.
“You know perfectly well what I'm suggesting.”
“Get. Out.”. No more was said. Verity stood up and brushed the tears of her friend's cheek and left. Willow put her head in her hooves and wept until the bell tolled the hour. She brushed herself down, and made her way outside.
Twilight was shaking. Things were getting complicated indeed. Willow had children five months before she was killed?
The Murder of Willow Marten
With heart so light, she thought no harm to meet me she did go,
I murdered her all in the Barn and laid her body low;
After the horrid deed was done, she lay weltering in her gore,
Her bleeding, mangled body I buried under the Red Barn floor.
Twilight's next priority was to find Berry. Such a kind looking stallion was bound to have friends to talk to. She tried to remember the newspaper article. His father was a pest catcher, for they did that sort of horrible thing in those days. But what did he do? He didn't look like a hard labourer, but perhaps a finer trade. A carpenter? Possibly, but a trip into town was necessary nonetheless.
The streets of old Ponyville were dirty and stank even under a layer of trampled snow. There were no paving stones, just bare earth. The shops were all different too. There was still a delightful display of colour on show, yet things were just not the same. Sugarcube Corner was actually a dressmakers, and Quills and Sofa's was a bakery...
A disturbing sign caught Twilight's eye on an adjoining street. On it was a bloodied rat caught in an evil contraption with large metal jaws. This was undoubtedly Berry's father's shop. She took a deep breath and prepared to walk through the door. She cautiously and painfully squeezed through and was greeted by a rather clean looking shop. Despite being full to bursting with dozens of horrifying and torturous instruments.
Polishing the signature contraption as seen on the sign outside was none other than Berry Cordial. He was a gentle looking colt, and spent a long time polishing the horrid traps and contraptions on the display tables. Twilight had to admit he was a rather handsome looking fellow.
Many minutes later, an aged stallion appeared from a doorway in the far corner of the room. He was oddly surprised to see his son in his shop.
“The prodigal son returns I see.”
“Father, I must speak with you.”
“Yes, as do I.”. They stood in silence for an uncomfortably long time.
“I know I have been avoiding you, father. And I despise myself for doing so. I have been rather withdrawn in lieu of recent events. But I wish to seek your council on another matter.”
“I wish to seek your explanation on another.”. Berry was clearly fed up.
“Father, will you stop doing that.”
“No I will not. I will ask the questions from now on. Answer me this one; delivered unto you were two healthy children. Now how in Celestia's name were they no longer living by the end of the week?” Berry's father drew closer. “As I understand the situation in the weeks precedent to the births, the girl's father was somewhat angered by these unlawful births, to put it lightly. But I am sure he was not to blame.”
“Father, Willow was ready to accept what we were. We were ready to be married in Canterlot and make nothing more of it, we were going to travel far away...”
“Alas, my son is on the filly's side. But my other question is were you ready to accept? I do not think you were. You were shamed and at the end of your tether. Do you wish to know what I think you did?”
“I can guess, and I am disgusted by what you are suggesting. I THOUGHT YOU SUPPORTED US!”
“Up until this preposterous affair, yes. I wasn't prepared to have bastard children in my household or even in my family. But what you have done is completely unacceptable. You have my consent to do whatever you please with the girl, but you shall never show your face in this household again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Father, listen to yourself. Speaking like a madpony... I could have you taken away.”
“I THINK NOT! NOT WITH THE EVIDENCE IN MY HOOVES!”. Berry was pushed back a step by the resounding shout. He was done talking, and stormed out, leaving the door wide open for the cold outside to suck the heat out of the room.
Twilight was learning too much too fast. She needed a list. But her head would have to suffice.
Bastard children. Willow was pregnant with two children before she was married? That was unthinkable even in the present day. But that couldn't be a motive for the murder, could it?
The angry father. Willow said herself that her father was something rotten, and her friend Verity confirmed that. However, Berry's father had just he was not to blame.
Blame for what? Verity hinted that the children had not died under 'normal circumstances'. I dread to think that they had been murdered too... Was Berry's own father accusing him of killing his children?
The song. 'I went unto her father's house...we shall fix the wedding day'. But how could the marriage be consented if Willow's father was furious after recent events?
I'll travel forward. Two weeks before 'the eighteenth day of May' and find out how Berry fell back in favour with the Marten family.
Twilight didn't need to draw another oil circle to travel anywhere, she just needed to lie flat and tap her horn on the ground. The black void consumed her, and she raced through time and space to her predetermined destination.
Ponyville had a public house.
It was a small affair, but in a growing town, the place was full to bursting. The perfect place to have a shady conversation. The Paddock had a view right across the river to the hill where Sweet Apple Acres lay. The packed ponies inside made an enormous racket, and Twilight covered her ears as she squeezed her way over, under, and even directly through the bustling patrons.
Suddenly an ear piercing cheer erupted from some tables near the window. After squeezing through the inside of an aged gentlecolt wearing a disgusting tweed coat. She could see the table in full now, and was about to do a quick scan to see if anyone noteworthy was here, when Berry Cordial stood up on his bench to make an announcement.
“All right! Shah, shah, shah...”. Instead of quietening down his friends, the entire room hushed to hear him speak. “What the hay... oh well... Anyway, for a few months I've had everything. A house, good employment, good friends...”. The entire bar went up cheering. “But I have wandered this town single for TOO LONG! With the consent from Mr Marten here, I shall propose to Willow at last! Drinks for EVERYPONY”. Twilight clamped her hooves over her ears to stop the uproar coming from every patron that evening.
They all drank and the scene was merry. The prospect of free drinks had gotten round very quickly, and the party was now pouring into the streets too. A band came to play, and received a fair few bits from patrons and landlady alike. The festivities carried on to the early hours of the morning, and Twilight persevered to keep herself awake so she could follow
Berry and Mr Marten when they left.
In the end, they never actually left. They stayed indoors even as the sun was rising, talking about trivial affairs. Twilight listened intently on every single word, but so much was turning into utter gibberish. She was losing the will to carry on listening to these drunkards.
“You're a good pony you know, Berry... But mark my words, I'm doing this for Willow...”
“Tom... I don't wanna talk about this now...”
“No, we do need to talk about this... I don't regret what I asked you to do... But I have to admit, Willow hasn't been the same since I stopped her from seeing you... She hasn't gone a day with a smile. But with this dreadful business well and truly over I think, now you can start over. No shame, no tears.”
“I don't regret what I did either... But you're right. We have a 'gentlecoltly' right to think about her for once... You know what... you're a good pony too... gosh, I'd have to call you 'father' wouldn't I...”
The pair of them laughed and drank some more.
“I must say, Berry. Give it a few weeks. She's having a rough time right now, and she may make the wrong choice, you know...”
“You're right... Anyway, you would know best... You've done this all before..!”
The pair of them chinked their glasses one last time, and downed whatever was left in one. Berry took a small satin box out of his waistcoat pocket. Inside was a pressed raspberry blossom. Small and beautiful, Tom Marten was naïve to the message hidden within this flower. The symbol of regret.
Give it a few weeks. Two to be exact. Twilight lay on the floor, and set her mind on The Eighteenth day of May.
The Murder of Willow Marten
Now all things being silent, her spirit could not rest,
She appeared unto her mother, who suckled her at her breast;
For many a long month or more, her mind being sore oppress'd,
Neither night nor day she could not take any rest.
The Marten homestead was not much to look at. A single bungalow no larger than two sheds tacked end on end stood proud yet alone amongst the endless golden plains of the blooming fields. On the roof was Thomas Marten, picking away at the damaged thatch from the bitter winter. He could only do it the hard the hard way, for he was an earth pony.
Twilight was warmed by the sun's rays as she took the long winding track leading to the cottage. Not a single gust or breeze could be felt, and the birds happily took the opportunity to flit from fence to fence. A flock of sparrows raced overhead, and the unicorn followed them with her head as they made their way to the distant apple orchard. Twilight had not bothered to make note that even in the present, Sweet Apple Acres was in view of just about anywhere in Ponyville and the surrounding countryside.
This day was the Eighteenth Day of May . The day Willow Marten was killed. Twilight cursed how her burning desire to dig deeper into this mystery had driven her to actually witness the events first hoof. Was she really twisted enough to carry on and watch the murder take place too?
From inside came a glorious smell of fresh bread. Tucking into a carrot and coriander soup at the rickety old table in the middle of the room was the victim herself. She ate it delicately, neatly spreading butter on the crusty bread roll without leaving any crumbs. Twilight took a seat at the chair in front of a hoofdriven sewing machine and had nothing to do but let her stomach moan at her for the time being.
As her elderly mother began making more loaves, Thomas came down from the roof and joined Willow at the table. He was handed a bowl of steaming orange soup and ate it in total silence. Anticipation? Or do they really have nothing to say to each other? Thomas wolfed his soup down in seconds, pocketed the bread roll and made his way to the front door. Fetching his axe and hat he said
“''M off to get firewood.”, and promptly left, whistling no particular tune.
Twilight was not only bored to the point of delusion, but desperately wanted to help as she watched the mares do the housework for the next hour and a half. She realised she was slightly homesick when she missed doing the chores in back in the library.
While her mother carried on kneading dough, Willow snapped round when she heard hoofsteps coming up the gravel outside. Twilight went up to the window, and cursed not being able to open the shutters. She followed the mare outside and stopped dead.
Coming down the path twenty yards apart were two Berry Cordials. Or so it seemed. Berry had a brother, but did he really turn up today as well? Was he an accomplice to the murder? His brother stopped at the gate, while Berry continued walking. Willow galloped towards him, and they embraced.
“Willow, are your parents inside?”
“Uh... my mother is... is that really all you have to say after all this time?” she didn't sound annoyed in the slightest, however.
“No. But I'd rather say it inside, if that's all right with you...” he slipped in a quick kiss before he led her inside, Willow skipping along behind him.
Berry's brother was stood stock still. Watching. Staring.
At her .
Twilight could not do anything else but stare back. She couldn't be totally sure whether this was truly happening. Her heart jumped when the stallion edged one hoof slowly in front of the other, his eyes firmly locked on to Twilight. He broke into a short gallop towards her, never flinching his vision.
No. This shouldn't be possible...
He stopped inches from Twilight's face. She felt the hot breath coming from the pony's stunned face. He scanned Twilight's eyes, watched them follow him as he moved his head from side to side. He circled Twilight twice, still never averting his gaze. He lifted up a hoof, and softly stroked her face.
“Who are you...”
“I'm...”. Twilight gulped. “Twilight Sparkle. How can you... see me?”
“You don't belong here.”
“As it seems, neither do you... so who are you ?”
The stallion turned his head and walked a few paces away, before gazing at the low sun in the sky. He was deeply lost in thought for uncomfortably long, and just before Twilight pressed him with another question, he spoke.
“I am... I was born... Berry Cordial. In the present I am known by a different name.” He turned around and walked back to confront Twilight. “So what in Celestia's name brings you to my crime?”. Twilight needed a careful answer, and was shaking under the revelation she was speaking to the killer himself.
“I heard a song. In my present. It was about... this. I live in Ponyville, and I wanted to know more about what happened.”
“How long have you been here... Sorry, wrong question... Where have you been in this timeframe?”
“I've been following events since... Five months before now.”
“Tell me absolutely everything you know.”
She told him. He sat on a wood chopping block and listened intently. And he listened carefully. And he listened closely. Never shifting his eyes from Twilight's face. He made the occasional noise; gulping, sniffing, coughing, nodding at the occasional fact. She finished her story at the meeting with Thomas Marten a few weeks earlier, and waited for a response.
He turned around again, and spat at the floor, before coming full circle.
“You are an incredibly intelligent filly, Miss Twilight. You have all of the facts down to a T in nearly every aspect. If only the courts had such grace and determination such as yourself. But you yourself know you lack some evidence. However you are wrong about one thing. You do need to see the murder. Come, follow me.”
Together they went inside the cottage.
The three ponies, Willow, Berry and her mother were sat around the table. An otherwise untouched bowl of soup steamed away, and a few breadcrumbs were all that remained on the plate. Willow's mother was happily cackling away at a joke that Twilight was unaware as to whom had told it, and they all chinked glasses filled with deep red wine.
“And we arrive in time for the greatest lie of my life.” Twilight had whispered into her ear from the other Berry Cordial.
“Now, ma'am. I have already spoken to your husband, Thomas. And we came to an agreement on a matter of which I... we ... are pleased to announce.”. Willow seemed surprised at this statement.
“Mrs. Marten. I wish with both your and your husband's consent, to marry your daughter.”
Willow looked at her mother. She nodded. Willow squealed.
“Thank you ever so much, Mrs Marten!”
Twilight felt warm breathing close to her ear again.
“We're following them.”
They walked along the quiet country lanes for an hour. The road was lined with sweet smelling blossom that tasted like pears. The royal carriage trundled past in the opposite direction, but alas, it was empty. The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, and the moon began to take it's place. It was odd to think that Luna was still up there at this point, and nopony down here was any the wiser.
The road to the main barn on Sweet Apple Acres lay before the four of them. Willow stopped and turned to Berry.
“We came here so often, just you and I. No pony else... not Clover, not Verity... just us.”. She let out a deep, inward sigh. “Were we so naïve then?”
“Then let us go and find out.” Berry smiled sweetly.
“Twilight, I must warn you. What you must see up there will hurt you deeply. But I am here to explain everything. Stay close now.”
Twilight's heart pounded as they all made their way up to the barn. When they reached the door, all she could hear was the rhythmic drumming in her head. She sang herself the only song she could think of. She felt like a child, lost in a dream, her body floated onward where her mind refused to go. The Berry leading her passed through the closed barn door, and she squeezed through herself.
Willow was standing in the middle of the barn, she muttered some sweet nothings, but Twilight wasn't listening. Willow turned around. And she died.
The glow from Berry's horn dissipated, and he set to work moving the lifeless body into a hole by the cider vats, but not before closing her eyes. She wore not an expression of shock, but of calm, and happiness.
Twilight ran so fast outside that she did not notice passing through the barn door. She heard hoofsteps coming after her, but she only sped up. She was fast running out of breath, but kept on galloping away. The hoofsteps behind her weren't stopping. The raw fear and panic were too much. She collapsed, and the world around her faded to black.
