Weapon or no, he decided to try to escape from this morgue of a house, back to the village and seek someone in authority to whom he could tell his fantastic story.
He climbed slowly to the cellar door. The great iron handle gave, and Brian inwardly cursed the noisy squeaking of the rusty hinges as he swung the door open.
The hallway outside was in darkness, but there was just enough light to make out the stairs which led up to the servants’ hall.
Holding his breath, Brian climbed the stairs and stood for a second behind the door.
The house was quiet.
Stealthily he stole down the corridor, keeping carefully to the shadows of the walls. He reached the door and opened it, and was out into a bright moonlit night. The storm clouds had been swept far out to sea, and the rain had ceased. It had left the lawn between the house and the trees carpeted with a silver sheen where the silvery moonlight was reflected against the rain-sodden grass.
Brain was halfway across the lawn when he heard a cry. Without pausing in his stride he darted a swift look over his shoulder and saw the figure of Hugo looking in his direction from the corner of the house. Then Brian was among the trees and racing through the undergrowth towards the stone walls of the estate.
A sound caused him to stop dead and froze his very heart.
From the direction of the house came the solitary howl of a hound. No sooner had it died away than came a series of yelpings and barkings. It was the sound of a hunting pack, turned loose upon its quarry.
A cold sweat began to pour from Brian as he realized that the baron had unleashed his hounds. He began to run forward blindly, uncaring as he stumbled into bushes, as branches snapped across his body and scratched at his face. The single thought in his mind was to reach the stone wall, and to this end he bent his will, jumping across muddy ditches, pushing aside restricting branches, not noticing the pricking of the gorse and the thorns which tore into the flesh of his arms and legs.
Brian began to run as he had never run before, his heart pounding madly. Sweat began to flow from his forehead, trickling into his eyes, almost blinding him. His mouth hung open and his breath came in harsh, painful gasps.
He could feel the muscles in his legs growing weaker and weaker at the exertion.
Some part of his mind registered the yappings and barkings of the dog pack as they came on behind him. He could hear them pushing through the undergrowth in his wake. Closer still and closer they came.
He could run no more.
He stumbled against the trunk of a tree and rested there, his heart thundering against his rib cage, an excruciating pain in his side.
A hound, fleeter than the rest, raced into the clearing before him, saw him and gave an excited yelp. The beast paused not a second but sprang for the man. Exerting some hidden strength, Brian stepped back and swung his foot at the animal, the toe of his boot caught it in the throat as it started its spring and there was a snap. The animal fell back without a sound, its head strangely twisted to one side.
But the others were closing in.
He turned and stumbled on. His legs were like jelly. He could go little farther. It was hopeless.
Almost weeping in frustration, he stumbled against another tree. He tried to marshal what remained of his resources, but it was useless. A kind of lethargy of despair overcame him. What was the use of struggling on? They would get him in the end. Better to have done with it all now.
A hand grasped his arm.
He turned, his heart beating twice as rapidly.
It was the woman who called herself the baroness.
“Komm, komm mit!” she cried in agitation.
“No good. No good. I’m done. Done, I tell you!”
She seized his arm and began to drag him.
“Down there,” she jerked her head towards a stream. Brian allowed himself to be dragged forward, the woman half pushed, half pulled him towards the stream. Then they splashed along it until they came to some great overhanging embankment which jutted out, forming an almost cave-like hollow.
Brian found himself pushing through an iron framed doorway in which he could see no door.
He could hear the splashing of the dogs as they drew nearer.
Then his energy deserted him. With a shuddering sigh he fell down in the tiny passageway and gave himself up for lost.
The dogs, fangs barred, had almost reached the doorway when the woman reached forward. There was a cranking of a chain, and suddenly, an old iron portcullis slid from an unseen slot, barring the entrance, and leaving the hounds angry and puzzled, snapping through its bars.
“We must not wait here to be found by Hugo, mein Herr,” whispered the baroness urgently. “We must go on.”
Brian raised his eyes and saw the hounds barking and yapping on the far side of the iron bars. He muttered a prayer of thanks. It seemed to give him new strength, and he raised himself up, half supported by the woman.
They passed several winding tunnels, and came through several iron-shod doors, which the baroness carefully secured behind them. Their route lay through a maze of waterlogged passage-ways.
“Where are we going?” gasped Brian.
“Ahead is a small room, where I often hide when he . . . the baron . . . is in a bad mood. These tunnels are part of an ancient tin mine, and the tunnels come up under the house itself. They lead into the cavern where the baron has his laboratory. From there, through the mouth of the cave which leads on to the cliff face, one can climb down and make one’s way along the edge of the cliffs to the cove below Bosbradoe. Care must be taken along the rocks which lay directly beneath the cliffs.”
Brian was incapable of further speech and allowed himself to be led through the subterranean maze until, finally, they came to a little cave-like room.
“It is my sanctum,” said the baroness as she helped Brian on to the bed. “I often hide here.”
She let him lay for a while, breathing deeply, until his wind came back and the pain was gone from his side. Then she handed him some water. It was cool, and refreshed him greatly.
‘You are his wife . . . Baroness Frankenstein?” he asked at length.
The woman nodded unhappily.
“Ah, mein Herr, did I not tell you he was evil?”
“How long have you been married to him, madam?”
“Just before he had to flee from Geneva, with the curse of the people upon him, and the evil thing which he had created. I was young then . . . young and beautiful.” She paused in reflection then continued. “I feel I have lived several lifetimes in these last few years. When I married Victor he was handsome, rich, and people said he was going to be a great scientist. Alas, they did not know what evil experiments he was conducting.
“Can you believe that I loved Victor, despite all that? I thought he had made a tragic mistake, that the people had been unfair to him.
“So it was that, when I heard from him, telling that he had escaped, that his creature was dead and that he wanted to start a new life in England, I took what money remained to us and came running, running to his side.
“We bought this house here, in Cornwall, and soon after, Victor began his experiments. It was then that I discovered that Victor, unbalanced by the awfulness of what he had done, had become mad, totally mad. There were no excuses I could make for him. He somehow believed he was God; that he could create life. But what a terrible path he trod to achieve his ends!”
She placed her hands over her face and sobbed loudly.
“The greatest evil he did was to Hugo.”
“Hugo?” asked Brian puzzled.
“Yes, Hugo.” It took some moments before the baroness would continue. “Hugo was a young man. A student of science at the Sorbonne in Paris, who was intrigued with the experiments Victor had performed at Ingolstadt. He wanted, like Victor, to find the source of life. Over the years the young man traced Victor, until he finally arrived here some five years ago. He was a young man of twenty-two, handsome, tall, aristocratic.”
/> Brian’s face shone with amazement.
“Hugo?”
The woman smiled softly.
“You don’t believe it? That the grotesque creature you see now was once a handsome young man?”
“It is not possible,” breathed Brian.
“Indeed, it is so. Victor welcomed him into the house. Hugo was a kind and sympathetic man. So sympathetic that it was natural for me, in my lonely despair and anguish, to turn to that young gallant. We fell in love, Hugo and I, and made our plans accordingly. But I didn’t realize that, although he loved me, he loved his scientific ambition more. And that ambition was to discover Victor’s secret of life. We could have escaped; we delayed and Victor grew suspicious and finally discovered us.”
Again the baroness broke out in sobs.
“One night Victor enticed Hugo into his laboratory. I heard Hugo screaming. I tried to enter but the doors were locked. I never saw the Hugo I knew again.”
Not for the first time, Brian had to fight down the feeling of horror, as the implications of what the baroness said grew clear in his mind.
The baroness was nodding.
“Yes, with his infernal skill, Victor recreated Hugo . . . recreated him as the awful monster you see today, in order to punish us both for our infidelity. In that recreation he also destroyed Hugo’s mind.”
“My God!” ejaculated the young man.
The baroness seized his hand.
“We must escape! You must help me escape! Victor must be punished for his evil, his blasphemy!”
Brian looked into the pain-stricken eyes of the woman and nodded.
“Don’t worry. We shall get away this night.”
“We shall have to go down the cliff face.”
“It will be all right,” assured Brian. “I have even climbed mountains before now.”
“You will help me?”
“I will. But tell me. Why is the baron – after what he did to Hugo – now rebuilding,” he paused over the right word, “rebuilding his body?”
“I think it is because he needs Hugo to assist him in his experiments. He knows that Hugo’s mind is gone, his very memory of me. Hugo is merely an animal. But a clever one. So Victor has decided to give him better limbs by which to carry out the terrible tasks that Victor demands of him.”
Brian stood up.
“We must go now.”
“I have been ready these past ten years.”
“You have not tried to escape on your own?”
“Escape to whom, mein Herr? Who would believe me? Victor would merely say that I am his poor deranged wife. They would send me back or, worse, lock me into an asylum.”
The baroness led the way from the small room, along the maze of passageways, and up several stone steps, pausing before a rotting wooden door. She listened intently before swinging it open.
Brian followed her into the great cavern-like cellar.
“This way, young Herr,” she called softly.
Brian followed her across to the cave entrance. Four hundred feet below, he could make out the pale rocks and the white foam where the sea crashed against them. To the left, the grey granite cliffs obscured his vision of the coast line, but to the right he could see them curving away towards a little cove, above which the lights of Bosbradoe twinkled invitingly.
At first glance, the cliffs seemed to fall precipitously, but when he looked closely he could see a series of jutting stones by which a careful climber might begin to make his way down for the first hundred feet. After that he would have to consider his route.
“I will go first,” he said, “then you must follow me. Keep close, and I will direct you as to where you must place your feet. Do not move from one hold to the next until you are sure that you have made yourself secure with your other limbs.”
The woman nodded.
Carefully Brian levered himself over the edge of the cave entrance and stood balancing precariously on the first foothold.
He was glancing down to find a firmer foothold when he heard the baroness scream.
At the foot of the cellar steps stood Baron Victor Frankenstein, and at his side the deformed and twisted figure of Hugo.
CHAPTER IX
The baron’s thin lips twisted into a sneer. His cruel, pale eyes flitted from Brian to his terrified wife. She stood trembling from head to foot, the back of her hand covering her twitching mouth.
“And this is how you repay me, my dutiful wife?” said the baron sarcastically. “Ah, ah! What am I to do with you?”
“Victor . . .” she began, a hopelessness in her voice.
“Victor!” mimicked the baron. “I could have made you great, Elizabeth. Sometime, the world will acknowledge me for my genius; glory and riches undreamed of will be mine when the world knows that God has no prerogative for the creation of man, and that I,” he thumped his chest and raised his voice, “I, Victor Frankenstein, can create life too.”
Tears stood in the baroness’ eyes.
“Victor, you are ill . . . ill,” she wailed.
“Ill? Ill, am I? You, who with your puny mind, cannot comprehend the sublety of my brain? And so, not understanding, you call me ill?”
Brian stood balanced over the lip of the cave mouth, his mind racing. If he attempted to continue downwards, he would have to leave the baroness to whatever fate awaited her. Also, it would not take a moment for the creature, Hugo, to follow and send him crashing to his death on the rocks below.
But what was the alternative? To return and admit defeat?
No, he thought grimly, he must escape. He must take his chance and bring help to rescue the baroness.
The baron had turned towards him.
“I see, Doctor Shaw, that you have made a companion in distress of my poor, deluded wife? Is it not so?”
He paused but Brian made no reply.
“My wife seems to have developed a fondness for handsome young men of science. Ah, but I too was once a handsome young man of science! You and she were running away together, eh? Perhaps to start some new life beyond my reach?”
Brian shook his head dumbly.
The man was clearly insane.
“Well,” chuckled the baron grimly, “others have tried that before now, is it not so, my Hugo? Is it not so, my ugly one? Schweinhund!”
Hugo, hearing his name, nodded his large head up and down and let forth a gibbering cry.
The baron raised his head and laughed.
“Yes, Hugo. You were once a fine young man of science, only you cannot remember now. You once tried to entice my wife away from her duties . . . just like this young man. Well, he, too, shall learn the wrath of Frankenstein!”
Brian’s eyes flickered downward to the night-shrouded cliff. The path for the first hundred feet or so was easy. Perhaps he could reach the beach before Hugo could overtake him. He must try.
The baroness looked towards Brian, and it was as if she read his thoughts.
“You must fly, young Herr! Fly for your life! Do not worry about me. I shall try to prevent a pursuit. Fly, for the love of your mother!”
With a sob she turned and grabbed an iron lantern holder, a tripod affair which she brandished before her as a defensive weapon, throwing back her shoulders in defiance.
“Put that down!” the baron snarled.
“No, Victor. Once I loved you . . . I should have tried to stop your mad designs years ago. Now perhaps it is too late, but I owe a duty to God and to the people you have made suffer by your evil.”
The baron’s lips curled back over his teeth.
“You will obey me or perish!”
“No, Victor!”
“Then perish!”
He turned to Hugo with a gesture.
Without further ado, Brian began to make his hasty descent from outhanging rock to outhanging rock.
As his head disappeared beneath the ledge, the baroness sighed and lifted up her iron lantern holder.
Hugo was looking at her in puzzlement. One tiny glinting eye shone at h
er in the gloom. He raised a massive, hairy hand and scratched his head as if trying to conjure up some long forgotten memory.
“Destroy them!” shrieked the baron. “Go, Schwein, destroy!”
The baroness gave a deep sob and, shutting her eyes, raised her weapon and brought it down with a sickening thud on the head of the creature crying: “Hugo, Hugo! Oh my God! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
The creature staggered from the blow but did not fall. He blinked his one bizarre eye and made a weird whimpering sound.
The baroness opened her eyes wide in horror and took a step back.
Hugo gave a grunt and moved forward with deceptive speed. A hairy arm shot out and twisted the metal from the woman’s hands as if she were possessed only of the strength of a baby. The creature sent the weapon clattering into a far corner of the cavern.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!” screamed the baron, beside himself with rage.
For a moment the woman and creature stood there, eyes locked.
“Hugo!” whispered the woman.
The creature drew the muscles of its face together in an attempt to frown.
Again some thought played at the back of his mind, some small thought, like a match struck in the midnight darkness of some great cathedral; struck to be immediately extinguished.
The creature shuffled forward, hands raised to grasp the baroness’ slender throat. Fear lent her the strength of many. She beat and clawed at the man-thing with her puny fists. Fought and scratched, until the creature began to whimper in pain. The two figures, locked in an embrace which would only end in death, stood swaying in the mouth of the cave.
Biting, kicking, scratching, punching, the baroness fought for her frail life, in the arms of the thing which had once been her lover. They swayed to and fro, to and fro. Then the baroness’ hand scratched down into the creature’s good eye. With a howl, still not releasing his hold, Hugo stumbled forward.
Over the edge of the cave mouth the two figures became locked in death’s embrace. The creature made no sound as he fell and only the baroness’ shrill cry marked their passage downwards.
Pausing for breath on a ledge some hundred feet below, Brian saw their bodies hurtle by, heard the sickening thud as they reached the rocks below, and then . . . then the silence, broken only by the faint roar of the surf.
The Mammoth Book of Frankenstein (Mammoth Books) Page 40