‘We are looking for Professor Goldwick,’ I replied. ‘We’ve been sent to deliver a message to him.’
‘I’ll take your horses,’ the man replied. ‘Ring the bell. The mistress of the house will see to you.’
Without waiting for a reply, he took the horses by the reins and led them through a gate at the side of the house. I strode up to the door and pulled at the cord hanging from a large brass bell hidden beneath a curtain of roses. A few moments later footsteps approached from inside the house, and the door was opened by a young woman not very much older than me and Eliza. I guessed she was the mistress of the house on account of her dress, which was finer than a servant girl’s and had a lace collar. Her hair was tucked into a coif which emphasised the roundness of her face and large blue eyes. There was a softness about her that at once put us at ease, and she smiled as I introduced myself and Eliza.
‘We have a message for Professor Goldwick,’ I said. ‘Is he home?’
‘Yes, do come in, your dog as well,’ the young woman replied. ‘I am Claribel, Professor Goldwick’s daughter. My father is in his study. Please make yourselves comfortable while I fetch him.’
Claribel stood aside to let us in, and we followed her into a small parlour immediately off the passageway behind the front door. She gestured to two large armchairs which we seated ourselves in while she disappeared up the stairs. A small fire burned in the hearth despite the time of year, and the plastered walls were brightened with tapestries.
‘Well, we’ve found him,’ said Eliza.
‘Yes, ‘tis a relief,’ I replied.
‘How so?’ asked Eliza.
‘Well…it’s just what those students at Merton College said. It had crossed my mind that…’ I lowered my voice to a whisper before continuing, ‘…that perhaps the killer might have got to Professor Goldwick.’
Before Eliza had chance to answer, footsteps returning down the passageway sounded outside the door, and a man of about sixty, with a serious but kindly expression, entered the parlour with Claribel. He wore a long dark robe, like those we had seen the other scholars wearing at Merton College, and bow spectacles upon his nose. His head was covered by a close-fitting cap, and his grey beard had been carefully tended to taper down to a point where it ended below his white collar. He took a seat before the fire and looked closely at me and Eliza in turn.
‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘I am Professor Cuthbert Goldwick. My daughter tells me you come bearing a message for me. Pray what are your names and who sent you?’
‘I am Tom Wild, and this is Eliza Ellery. We are friends of George Prye,’ I said, trying to sound as respectable as possible. ‘He is abroad at present, but a message arrived for him from Mrs. Mary Thorne, the wife of the late Gabriel Thorne, also known as the Watchmaker of Pump Street, London. She advised George to seek your help in a most serious matter.’
‘You have come from London? Have you travelled on foot?’ asked Professor Goldwick.
‘No, sir,’ I replied, handing him Mrs. Thorne’s letter. ‘Your serving man saw to our horses.’
‘Ah yes, that will be Mabson,’ Professor Goldwick replied, taking the letter and studying its contents. A look of surprise flashed across his face. ‘Well well, it must be said I have not received the message Mrs. Thorne speaks of, but perhaps that is not so surprising. News is slow to reach us here, even from as close as London. The roads are still patrolled, and folk are being thrown in the stocks for as little as taking a walk on Sundays! Mabson was a jailer at the gaol before the accident that cost him his eye. Said he’d never seen it so full! ‘Twas a risk for Mrs Thorne to commit words concerning magic to paper in these dark days. Still, I am glad you have found me. Her report is concerning indeed, and it grieves me to learn such talented magic men have fallen victim to so foul an end. I did not know them personally, but those who did spoke highly of them. ‘Tis a sore loss indeed.’
‘Have you any idea who might be responsible for their deaths?’ asked Eliza.
Professor Goldwick frowned and looked again at the letter. ‘I do not believe it can be the work of any of the established magicians,’ he replied. ‘It would be a reckless act and for no obvious purpose, yet the perpetrator is clearly skilled to have overcome four men of considerable power. I must think more upon this matter. Will you stay tonight? The roads are perilous after dark, and you must be tired from your journey.’
Eliza and I accepted eagerly, and Professor Goldwick took his leave of us to return to his study while Claribel led us upstairs to two ready prepared guest rooms.
‘There are cloths laid out and water in the basins if you wish to refresh yourselves before supper,’ she said. ‘It will not be served for another hour. My father eats late on account of his work. You may remain here or return to the parlour if you prefer. I will fetch you when supper is to be served.’
Chapter 7
After washing our hands and faces and tidying our crumpled clothes we returned to the parlour to await the call to supper.
‘What do you think the Professor will do?’ asked Eliza.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘He seemed troubled. ‘Tis a shame Mrs. Thorne’s message to him didn’t arrive, or he might have been better prepared. I’m sure he will do what he can, though.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Eliza. ‘’Tis terrifying to think that someone is picking off magicians one by one.’ She shuddered and pulled her shawl about her tighter as though the very mention of the killings had brought a chill to the air.
We sat and talked for a long while as we watched twilight gather in the lane outside. At length, a bell sounded from the kitchen further down the passageway, and a moment later Claribel appeared at the door.
‘Supper is ready,’ she said.
We followed her out of the parlour and down the passageway to a dining room with a long table occupying most of the floor. Branches of candles were fitted to the panelled walls and illuminated the room. Professor Goldwick was already seated at the head of the table, and we took our seats at the places laid out for us. Claribel sat beside her father, and at once, the cook, a plump cheerful woman, entered with a covered pot which she set in the centre of the table. She lifted the lid, and the scent of fresh fish pie filled the room. The smell reminded me I was famished, having had only apples to eat since that morning.
‘I have been considering Mrs. Thorne’s letter,’ said the Professor. ‘Tell me, Claribel, what do you make of it?’
Claribel chewed thoughtfully for a moment before answering. ‘I suspect the killer is not a man or woman of flesh and bone at all, but rather an entity either deliberately conjured or recklessly brought forth. In other words, a monster. Am I right, Father?’
To my surprise, Professor Goldwick nodded sagely as his daughter spoke and seemed to regard her opinion with the utmost respect.
‘Claribel is my protégé,’ he said, perhaps catching the look of surprise on my face. ‘Of course, the college will not allow her to study there on account of her sex, but she assists me in my research.’
‘I have only lately come to the study of magic. There is still much for me to learn,’ Claribel added modestly.
‘Nonetheless, your conjecture agrees with my own, daughter. Only a thin skin holds back the other realms; peel it back just a little and all manner of strange and dangerous things can occur. Conjuring is not an activity to be dabbled in out of casual curiosity or without the knowledge of what it can unleash. I suspect what we are dealing with is a monster, perilous to magicians, that passes unseen and leeches off their magic like a vampire. Such things I’m all too aware exist; many times during my own conjurings I have had to wrest with them to keep them from passing into this world. Quite possibly, some foolish but unfortunate soul has tinkered with things he should not have done and conjured something he now wishes he had not.’
‘How terrifying,’ said Eliza. ‘What are we to do?’
‘We may yet be able to stop it,’ said the Professor, ‘but I must learn more of the mann
er of the victims’ deaths before considering a course of action. I will need your help in this endeavour if you are willing.’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Eliza.
‘We will do all we can,’ I added.
‘Very good. Well, let us finish supper, and I will show you to my study where things may perhaps become a little clearer. I appreciate you must be tired after your long journey, but I won’t keep you long from your beds.’
We finished eating, and Professor Goldwick rose from his place at once and led us to his study on the second floor of the house, followed by Claribel. He unlocked the door then paused before opening it.
‘Please be mindful not to touch a thing in this room without my say so or Claribel’s. My life’s work lies beyond this door. Much of what you will see is highly dangerous, though there is no threat to your safety as long as you refrain from touching.’
Eliza and I looked at one another, not altogether reassured by Professor Goldwick’s words. I drew a breath as the door opened, unsure what to expect to see.
‘What are they?’ asked Eliza as Professor Goldwick ushered us in.
All about the room orbs of light of varying colours floated in the air as though suspended by invisible threads. They spun and pulsated like a beating heart but always remained fixed in their position. Through the middle of the room a path leading to the Professor’s desk had been left clear, allowing one to pass into and out of the room without disturbing the glowing orbs.
‘They are other worlds I have created to contain the wicked things I have encountered throughout my experiments,’ replied Professor Goldwick. ‘Such things look for any opportunity to pass into this world and wreak havoc among us poor, weak humans. For the most part, they may only pass if invited to do so by means of conjuring, which makes it such a dangerous and foolhardy endeavour for those who don’t fully understand it. Driving such things out once they decide to possess a person, place or beast is precarious to say the least. Better that they be contained where they cannot cause harm than be free to pass into this world unchecked.’
Eliza gasped and shrank back from one orb as it spun close to her shoulder.
‘You need not be afraid. They cannot do you any harm,’ said Professor Goldwick.
‘What if they were to escape?’ I asked. The memory of my encounter with the shade in Edward Treadway’s mirror flashed into my mind. I didn’t at all like the idea of things perhaps more terrifying than that hoarded in this room.
‘They cannot escape without outside interference, which is why I keep this door locked at all times and permit none but Claribel to pass over the threshold. You two are the only others to have seen the inside of this room.’
‘But if they ever did possess someone or something, can they be driven out?’ I persisted.
‘Yes, but that is a field of study in itself!’ said Professor Goldwick. ‘It varies from spirit to spirit- some are more resistant than others -but smoke is the basic tool of exorcism. Monsters of all descriptions despise smoke. Poisonous plants and roots and incantations may also be employed for the more unyielding.’
‘Professor, when you speak of monsters, what exactly do you mean?’ Eliza asked.
‘Now that is a question with a most interesting answer,’ he replied, turning to his desk and rummaging through a pile of papers for something. ‘Here, have a look and see for yourself.’
In his hand he held a large brass magnifying glass which he offered to Eliza.
‘What do I do with it?’ she asked.
‘Take a look inside one of the orbs,’ he replied, ‘but do be careful not to touch.’
Eliza looked around the room at the gently glowing orbs and stepped hesitantly towards one which floated at roughly the height of her chest. Leaning in towards it, she held the magnifying glass to her eye and gazed into its depths. My heart beat several times as I wondered what she saw. Then she let out a gasp.
‘Oh, ‘tis an abomination! It’s eyes! I can’t look!’
She shrank away from the orb and handed me the magnifying glass. My heart pounded as I stepped up to it and looked inside, but what I saw didn’t have eyes at all. In fact, its face- if you could call it that -was entirely featureless. It crouched on all fours like a wild animal ready to pounce, but it had a vaguely human-like body with a pale grey hide and horns like a ram’s.
‘It has no eyes,’ I said, confused.
‘What? The thing I saw was like a shrivelled corpse with terrible bulging eyes!’ said Eliza.
Professor Goldwick chuckled. ‘You see? Truth is in the eye of the beholder. A monster may appear differently to you and me, depending on how it chooses to reveal itself. Some may even be beautiful to behold, and there are those that were once human and became monsters through misadventure, such as vampires. A monster is not one single entity. The only thing they each have in common is that they are contrary to nature as humans understand it.’
He peered over the top of his glasses and read aloud from an open book on his desk. ‘The Latin word moneo, from which our word monster is derived, means to remind, warn, instruct and foretell. That is what monsters originally did,’ he added, looking up at me and Eliza and fixing us with his gaze. ‘They were acknowledged as wise creatures, but their ways were so different to humans, and their warnings so often prophesied doom, that they came to be regarded as harbingers of death and destruction until finally their prophetic powers were forgotten altogether, and they were known only as creatures of evil to be feared and shunned. Of course, some are very wicked indeed, which is why I contain them when I encounter them, but not all are, and that is an important distinction.’
‘But you think a monster did kill the Watchmaker and the other magicians?’ said Eliza.
‘I cannot be certain until I know more, but my instincts warn me that it may be so.’
‘Father, should we not also consider the possibility that this is a deliberate attack?’ said Claribel. She had remained silent up until that point so that I had almost forgotten she was there. ‘There are many who make no secret of their disdain for magic and would be thrilled to see it wiped out,’ she added.
‘Ahh, yes,’ said Professor Goldwick, taking his spectacles from his nose and wiping them with his handkerchief. ‘You touch upon a sore subject, daughter. We cannot ignore what is happening before our eyes. A revolution is taking place, my friends. The old order of things is passing away, and a new force is at play. They call it science. Science indeed!’ He scoffed as he spoke the word. ‘’Tis an insult. I hear the young fellows speak of it with such excitement. They say it will change life as we know it, that machines will one day do the job of a man. In their arrogance they dare to compare their gauche and savage practices with the subtleties of magic refined over thousands of years and more! They are fools. Yet, my friends, I am fearful. I fear for the future. This new science sweeps all else aside wherever it takes hold. It demands proof of everything, and where proof cannot be had it sows doubt in men’s minds. The invisible forces of magic will be denied until they are forgotten, and very soon men will only admit the existence of that which their science has proven.’
He sank into his chair, just an old man burdened with cares, his life’s work all around him and seemingly as fragile as himself.
‘That will never happen, Father,’ said Claribel quietly.
‘I hope not, dear daughter, but we magicians are like boats on the open ocean, assailed from all sides. These are hostile times for magic. The time will come when there will be but two choices to ensure the survival of magic: convert to its study those hostile to it- or destroy them. Still, nothing is yet certain. I must consult with my books before I can make any conclusions, and it would be useful indeed to learn more of the circumstances of the victims’ deaths. Tom and Eliza, if you are willing, it would help me greatly if you could be my eyes and ears and gather what information you are able to from the victims’ families and associates once you return to London.’
‘Certainly,’ I replied. ‘We wil
l find out all we can.’
‘That will indeed be a great help and comfort. Well, I have kept you from your beds quite long enough. ‘Tis late, and you have ridden far. I will bid you a good night.’
We took our leave of the Professor and left him at his books. Claribel led us back to our rooms before wishing us good night also.
‘Do not be afraid,’ she said. ‘If anyone can put a stop to this wickedness, it is my father. Sleep now, and do not be troubled.’
Chapter 8
Outside the window, the young moon shone weakly and made trembling shadows of the tree branches nodding in the breeze. I had dosed for a while until the familiar nightmares had crept up on me, but it was the sound of scuffling outside my door that woke me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and listened. There it was again. Peggy growled.
I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it. Something was scratching at the door, trying to get in. I opened it a crack to peep outside, careful not to let it creak. At once, an enormous ginger cat shot into the room and leapt upon the bed where it settled down into the warm patch where I had lain.
‘I’m sorry, has Marmalade woken you?’
I turned to find Claribel standing in the passageway outside the door carrying a candle and a steaming jug.
‘I heard scratching at the door,’ I replied.
‘He’s used to sleeping on the guest bed. Let me take him.’
‘No, let him stay,’ I replied. ‘I can’t sleep anyway.’
Claribel smiled. ‘Would you like some warm milk with Father and me? It might help.’
‘Yes, that would be nice.’
I followed her along the passageway and up the stairs to Professor Goldwick’s study. The warm glow of lamplight streamed out from under the door. Claribel knocked softly then opened it at the Professor’s muffled reply. Inside, he sat at his desk reading from a book of immense size. The glowing orbs spun and throbbed all around him, creating an eerie and unsettling effect in the half light.
The Puppeteer: Book II of The Guild of Gatekeepers Page 4