Sleepy Hollow Page #11

In the corner is a SPIKED CHAIR, adorned with sharp iron

spikes. Hundreds of spikes. It is fitted with straps for

holding down the "accused."

Tears stream down Young Ichabod's face. He kneels, hands on

the spikes of the chair, pressing hard.

As he sobs, blood runs down from his hands.

INT. VAN TASSEL HOUSE, ICHABOD'S ROOM -- NIGHT

In bed, Ichabod opens tear filled eyes. He sits up, bringing

his trembling hands to wipe his cheeks. His hands trail

blood. He looks to them...

The old scars are bleeding.

INT. VAN TASSEL HOUSE, SITTING ROOM -- NIGHT

Katrina comes to the door. Ichabod is seated by the fire,

eyes bleary, palms wrapped with bloodied cloth.

KATRINA:

Constable Crane?

Katrina comes beside Ichabod's chair.

ICHABOD:

Allow me some time. I have spent

every hour in the company of others.

I need to be alone.

KATRINA:

What troubles you?

She moves in front. Ichabod gets up and crosses to sit

facing away. Katrina takes the chair he deserted.

KATRINA:

The things I said to you before...

I was wrong to say them.

ICHABOD:

No, actually, you were not. Every

word you spoke had truth in it.

KATRINA:

What has happened?

Ichabod sits silent, puts his head back, eyes closed.

ICHABOD:

Lady Van Tassel... she is your

stepmother, isn't she? She bears so

little resemblance.

KATRINA:

What?

ICHABOD:

She is not your birth mother, is she?

KATRINA:

No, but... why do you ask that?

ICHABOD:

What happened to your mother? Is she

still alive?

KATRINA:

She died. Her lungs were diseased...

two years ago. What is this about?

ICHABOD:

Memories have come back. I had them

forgotten, and wish I could forget

them again... but they are here now.

(pause)

Lord, how I hate this place.

KATRINA:

If you want me to go, I will. Do you

want me to leave?

ICHABOD:

I... I do not know. I no longer know

what I think or what I feel.

Katrina walks to him. She touches his back.

KATRINA:

Why are you so afraid of that? Is

there truly such harm in uncertainty?

She kneels, smiles a little for him. She reaches to touch

his face, holds his head in her hands. Leans to kiss him.

He rests his head against hers, weary, putting his arms

around her. They kiss passionately.

EXT. THE HOLLOW -- EARLY MORNING

Dawn light, is visible over forests pounded by rain.

INT. VAN TASSEL HOUSE, SECOND FLOOR HALL -- MORNING

Ichabod exits his room, satchel in hand. He looks down the

hall, then steps back in to take a white rose from a vase.

AROUND A CORNER, Ichabod comes to the last door. He bends,

slipping the white rose under the crack of the door.

EXT. VAN TASSEL HOUSE, FRONT PORCH -- MORNING

Rain. Ichabod comes out. Across the lawn, Young Masbath is

bringing the horses.

LADY VAN TASSEL (o.s.)

Good morrow, Constable.

Ichabod turns to see Lady Van Tassel in a chair, sewing.

LADY VAN TASSEL:

Returning to the Western Woods?

ICHABOD:

Yes, actually.

LADY VAN TASSEL:

Use caution.

ICHABOD:

(nods, studies her)

Do you know... I think those are the

first words I have heard from you my

entire time here.

LADY VAN TASSEL:

As my husband says, a wife should be

always like an echo, and at the same

time, quite unlike an echo.

(off Ichabod's confusion)

Like an echo, she should speak only

when spoken to, and unlike an echo,

should never try to have the last

word, or, at least that is what he

believes.

Baltus comes out the door, irritable, skillet in hand.

BALTUS:

Constable... did you notice anything

out of the ordinary during the night?

Ichabod eyes the skillet, ill at ease, trying not to be.

ICHABOD:

Um... I... I did not... no. Why?

BALTUS:

Sarah has gone missing... my servant

girl. Her things are gone. Damn it.

She has joined the migration out of

town.

(to Lady Van Tassel)

What about breakfast, woman? Or, am

I to starve to death?

Lady Van Tassel gets up and goes in, taking the skillet.

ICHABOD:

I should be going... good day to you.

Ichabod heads towards Young Masbath. Baltus watches from the

porch, disgruntled. He goes in.

EXT. WESTERN WOODS -- DAY

Heavy rain. Ichabod and Young Masbath ride side by side.

YOUNG MASBATH:

If the Crone's wound bled hard, that

means she was not killed by the

Hessian. Someone only tried to make

it look that way.

ICHABOD:

You grow sharper by the minute, little

man. It boggles my mind, but I begin

to prefer your company over all others.

YOUNG MASBATH:

Well... I'm one of the few people who

likes you.

ICHABOD:

(laughs)

True enough.

YOUNG MASBATH:

Then, who murdered the Old Crone? And

why?

ICHABOD:

Good questions, deserving answers, of

which we are in short supply.

A SOUND is HEARD. Ichabod looks back, then to Masbath.

ICHABOD:

Quicken pace.

Ichabod rides faster. Young Masbath keeps up.

FURTHER ON, they charge over a hill. Ichabod halts Gunpowder

and climbs clumsily off.

ICHABOD:

Ride on.

Young Masbath obeys. Ichabod takes out his pistol and wades

into forest growth, backtracking.

INSIDE THE FOREST, Ichabod bounds through underbrush, low. A

HORSE is HEARD SNORTING. He pushes through branches...

Moving behind a FIGURE IN A GREY CLOAK on horseback.

ICHABOD:

Halt and turn. I have a pistol aimed

at your head.

The figure stops, pushes off the cloak hood. Katrina.

KATRINA:

It is only me.

ICHABOD:

Katrina. Why do you follow?

KATRINA:

I apologize if I worried you.

ICHABOD:

A woman should not be out alone in

these woods.

KATRINA:

But, I am not alone, am I? I only

wished to see what you were up to,

and...

(takes out WHITE ROSE)

To thank you.

Ichabod softens, but doesn't want to.

ICHABOD:

Come along.

EXT. WESTERN WOODS, TREE OF THE DEAD -- DAY

Raining still. Ichabod, Masbath and Katrina come into a

clearing, mouths falling open at the sight of...

A monstrously huge TREE OF THE DEAD, at the clearing's

center, with branches reaching far and wide, knotted and

gross, like agony captured in wood sculpture.

Ichabod dismounts, crossing a line beyond which grass and

weeds will not grow. Young Masbath and Katrina dismount.

YOUNG MASBATH:

You were right... it does draw

attention to itself.

Ichabod stares up into the endless, dead canopy of branches.

He circles the incredibly wide trunk.

There's a VERTICAL WOUND in the bark, as if the tree once had

a terrible vertical in it, now partially healed and

disgustingly scarred. Ichabod approaches.

He feels the mushy scar, picking at its scabs till much sap

begins to trickle. It is red and Ichabod fingers it.

ICHABOD:

Blood.

KATRINA:

What did you say?

Ichabod goes to where Katrina and Masbath wait with the

horses, digs in a saddle bag for a hand axe.

YOUNG MASBATH:

What is it?

ICHABOD:

Stay back.

At the trunk, Ichabod thumps the flat end of the axe against

the suture. It sounds hollow. Ichabod begins to chop.

He pulls away loose bark. The tree drips more blood and a

clear goo. Ichabod uses both hands on the axe to hack at the

festering suture.

KATRINA:

What are you doing?

ICHABOD:

Just... keep where you are.

Ignoring, Young Masbath moves closer. Ichabod keeps

chopping, then grips a large, loose flap of wood, trying to

bend it. It's not easy. Ichabod struggles.

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