The Light Beneath the Cauldron

by European P. Douglas

  “We meet again,” a cheerful voice said and both Mary and Kate looked at the man standing in front of the stall. Kate was scared this was a former customer of hers, he was a sailor after all, but his eyes were on Mary and she smiled at him warmly.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  “I see you have someone to help you lock up the cart today,” he said nodding to Kate.

  “Yes, thankfully,” Mary said. She was aware that Kate was looking at her now and she turned and caught herself. “Sorry, Kate, this is Lenny, he helped me out one evening when I couldn't get the cart into the shed on my own. Lenny, this is Kate.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Lenny said with a slight bow of his head.

  “How was your voyage?” Mary asked, she couldn’t quite recall where he’d gone but she knew it was somewhere very far away. “I see you’re back in one piece anyway.”

  “Just about,” he laughed, “The Caribbean is not a place I want to go to very often if I can avoid it.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Kate asked; she’d heard all sorts of stories about that part of the world.

  “Some,” he said, “But the heat is what kills me.”

  “How hot is it?” Mary asked glad to be talking to him again.

  “Twice as hot as any summer’s day I’ve ever had here,” he answered with that smile again.

  “Did you bring back any news from across the world?” Mary asked him keen to keep him talking.

  “Not from across the world but some big news from much closer to home.”

  “What is it?” Kate asked when Lenny let a long silence fall. He laughed teasingly,

  “Do you really want to know?” he asked playing with them.

  “Of course we do!” Mary said laughing now too.

  “Well alright, I’ll tell you,” he said looking around conspiratorially. “We made port in Bristol before coming on here to Dublin. It seems a very famous man has been captured and arrested there.”

  “Who?” Kate asked but Mary was sure she already knew.

  “None other than Gaspard Delacroix,” he said.

  “No!” Kate exclaimed.

  “Thank God for that,” Mary said.

  “How did they catch him?” Kate asked.

  “From what I hear, he was in his bed when they raided the room and he didn’t stand a chance of escape.”

  “How did they know he was there?”

  “I’m not sure, there’s a few stories going around about that. The most likely I heard was that the landlord was a keen follower of gruesome news and had heard all about Gaspard and knew him by his description in the news sheets. He told the soldiers who was staying under his roof and they came and got him while he slept.”

  “What will happen to him now?” Mary asked; she hated the idea that he might be brought back to Ireland to be hanged. She was terribly worried he would get away again if that was the case.

  “I don’t know,” Lenny said, “I suppose they’ll carry out his sentence over there soon enough. No point in going through the trouble and expense of shipping him back over here is there.”

  “That would the best thing they could do,” Kate said.

  “Sounds to me like they would have been better not taking him alive at all. Seems like he is a very dangerous fellow, and not one I’d like to be guarding, I can tell you,” Lenny said.

  “Hopefully he will be executed very soon and that will be the end of it all,” Mary said softly.

  “So what else has been going on around here?” Lenny asked to change the subject, “It must be very quiet without a crazed killer running about the place?” Kate and Mary looked at one another at this, “What?” Lenny asked on seeing their faces.

  “We still have a killer going around,” Mary said.

  “The Sheriff was killed and then the Alderman only a few days later,” Kate added.

  “What?” Lenny said in disbelief, “I might have been safer with the cannibals in the Caribbean!” his smile was a light one and infectious and both girls smiled at this.

  “How long will you be in Dublin this time?” Mary asked and she blushed as she saw Kate’s smiling face gaze on hers. She must be able to tell I like him, she thought.

  “I don’t honestly know,” he said, “I was thinking of making this place my home port. Start looking for a place to stay here.”

  “I think Mary would be very happy if you did that,” Kate said laughing and Lenny smiled as the heat of happy embarrassment filled in Mary’s cheeks.

  Chapter 41

  Mayor Wallace sat at his desk looking over some reports on some men suspected in the bombing of Newgate Prison. It had been too long since that event and someone needed to be punished if only to show the population that this kind of thing would not be tolerated. At least the attack on the prison had been some distraction from the Gaspard fiasco, if only for a few hours. It was a pity he no longer had the power to send people off on the convict ships to Sydney Cove.

  Glancing at his papers, he caught sight of a letter from the newly reinstated Alderman James. Wallace was sure it was only a thank you letter for giving him his job back so he had not read it yet. There was nothing to thank him for as it was going to be a short-lived reversal. As soon as this case was brought to a head, James would be out on his ear once more.

  “Ripley!” he called out to his Secretary in the next room, “Make sure you don’t forget to give me a new shortlist for the Alderman position by the end of the week!”

  A few moments passed before Wallace noticed Ripley was not at his door taking note of what he’d been ordered. Wallace looked at the door like it might make the man appear. What could he be doing that he didn’t hear me, he wondered.

  “Ripley, did you hear what I said?” he shouted even louder and when no answer came this time anger flooded into Wallace's face. He slammed his quill down on the table and bounded out of his seat. He meant to tear a few strips from his Secretary if he was either not at his post or else otherwise engaged.

  Bursting through the door, Wallace was surprised to see that Ripley was not at his desk. He had not asked for permission to leave; this was most unlike him. Just as Wallace’s temper began to fade into wonder, he sensed movement behind him and he turned to the side of the room that looked out onto the street. A well-dressed man he did not recognise stood there looking down onto the street.

  “Who are you, Sir?” Wallace said. The man turned and looked at Wallace and smiled briefly before looking back down onto the street.

  “Did you not hear me man!” Wallace thundered at this affront, “I asked you who you were! What are you doing in my office?”

  The man did not seem perturbed at all by Wallace’s shouting but only pointed down out through the window without saying a word.

  At that moment, Wallace wondered if perhaps this man was some imbecile who’d gotten lost and wandered in off the streets. This made him think of Ripley again, he was supposed to make sure things like this didn’t happen. Where the Devil was he? Then taking a softer tone he said,

  “I’m afraid it’s time for you run along, good man there.” The man looked at him and shook his head slowly.

  “You need to come and look,” he said beckoning Wallace with his finger.

  “Look at what?”

  “What’s going on over in that building across the road.” The man’s face lit up in an even larger smile that looked this time like genuine amusement and Wallace stepped forward to see what he was looking at. The man stepped back a little to give him a better view.

  At first, Wallace didn’t know which window he should be looking through but as he scanned the building, his eyes landed on something that made his blood run cold.

  There in a well-lit room above one that seemed to contain a soiree of some kind, was the bloody and ragged body of a man. The clothes of the man registered then and Wallace understood it was Ripley!

  “What on earth!” he said turning with a pale face and trembling lip to the man beside him. For his part, the other man
just continued looking across the road.

  “I hear Gaspard has been arrested in Bristol,” he said tutting and then nodding across the road, “Who could have done this, then?”

  “Who are you?” Wallace said feeling the warmth of urine run down his leg. “What do you want?” he stammered.

  “What do I want?” the man repeated as though it were something he’d never been asked before. “Revenge for one thing,” he said and then turning to Wallace and smiling, “Not on you my good man, you’ve never done anything to me.”

  Though he was still terrified this gave Wallace some cause for hope.

  “On who then?” he asked softly knowing his voice would come out like a shrill squeak if he tried to say it aloud. The man shrugged his shoulders.

  “Sometimes I’m not even sure myself,” he said.

  They were silent for what felt to Wallace like an eternity. The man looked outside the whole time, never once looking at Wallace standing beside him. Wallace wondered what to do. He could hear nothing in the building and he knew any shouts for help could have him dead before anyone made it to the room. Though he didn’t look back over, he could see the state Ripley was in within his mind's eye. This man was powerful and it would not do to upset him.

  “What will you do with me?” he finally plucked up the courage to ask. Now the man did look at him and in those eyes were black pits of soullessness. It was the most terrifying thing Wallace had ever seen in his life.

  “Kill you,” the man said the smile dropping from his face for the first time. Wallace backed away and found himself against what had once been Ripley’s desk.

  “Please no,” he said, “I can give you anything you want, name it and it’s yours!” Tears began to spread, down his face.

  “You’re already giving me all you have,” the man said drawing a knife from his pocket.

  Chapter 42

  When Mullins opened the door, he was at first surprised to see no one there. Sticking his head out, however, he saw the limping form of Muc walking away,

  “Come on up to the house!” Muc called without turning around. Mullins hesitated a moment but the curiosity got the better of him and he turned to Kate and Mary,

  “I’m just popping up to Muc’s for a few minutes, lock the door and I’ll be as quick as I can.” He caught up with Muc at the corner and looked the man over from the side a moment before speaking. Muc looked angry and his clothes were covered in dirt and what looked like small bits of wood. His head was bleeding a little and his arm was covered in dark blood that had begun to dry into his clothes.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Mullins asked.

  “We’ll get a drink in our hands first and then I’ll tell you all about it,” Muc said in a solemn voice Mullins had never heard before. As he spoke his eyes were fixed dead ahead. Mullins decided not to say anything more until Muc was ready to speak.

  They went to Muc’s house and inside the large kitchen Muc took out a large bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. He poured two drinks carelessly almost to the brim and then pushed one to Mullins, some of the drink spilling in the movement.

  “You’re not going to be happy with what I'm going to tell you now,” Muc said. This was an unexpected sentence and Mullins felt the pit of his stomach fall. What could it be about?

  “Spit it out, Muc,” he said, his voice betraying his worry.

  “Your old apprentice, Scally,” Muc said.

  “What about him?” Mullins asked.

  “I know where he’s been since he left and what he’s been up to.”

  “Oh?” Mullins was easing a little now, thinking this news could not be all that bad.

  “When he left you he was brought to me, for training.”

  “Training?”

  “Fighting, like little Larry,” Muc said.

  “Brought by who?” Mullins asked, this wasn’t making any sense to him so far.

  “Edwards,” Muc said and he looked at Mullins face. At the mention of the name, the blacksmiths expression darkened.

  “What did he have to do with Scally?” he asked glowering at Muc now and sensing some deep betrayal.

  “Nothing at the time,” Muc said, “But he knew who Scally really was and he wanted to make use of that.”

  “What do you mean, he knew who he was?”

  “You didn’t know his real name, hell the boy didn’t even know his own real name until Edwards told him.”

  “How would he know?”

  “Same as I did; he saw the resemblance to his father as he grew.”

  “Who was his father?” Here Muc paused a moment and looked out the window as he took a deep drink.

  “Thomas Olocher,” he said at last.

  “What!” This was astounding news and Mullins didn’t believe it. “Where did you get such a ridiculous idea?”

  “It’s true, Mullins, despite what you might want to believe.”

  “Why did Edwards want him to be trained in fighting?” Mullins felt a dark truth nearby but he could not come to it on his own, it was as if his fondness for the boy was making him incapable of seeing beyond this.

  “He never said, but I have since come to believe it was to carry on his father's work.”

  “Murders!” Mullins exclaimed, “Is that what you’re talking about?” Muc nodded slowly.

  “I think Gaspard only did half of what he was accused of. I think young Olocher was doing the rest,” he said.

  “You think he actually killed people?” Mullins still didn’t want to believe this could be the case.

  “I know he did, and he tried to kill me while he was at it.” Mullins looked now at the gash on Muc’s arm and asked,

  “Did you kill him?” His own anger was rising now and he polished off the last of his drink as Muc answered,

  “Unfortunately not,” he said, “He got away when all this shite came tumbling down on top of me.” He patted wood and muck from himself as he said this. A new thought came to Mullins as the truth of what Muc was saying seeped into his brain.

  “Who was it who attacked Kate that night you chased him?”

  “That was Gaspard,” Muc said, “His acrobatic skills that night were part of the reason I was able to find out who he was. Olocher’s not capable of any of that stuff.”

  “How long has all this been going on?” Mullins asked.

  “Since he left your smithy.”

  “You never thought to tell me or anyone about this?” Mullins' anger rose again and he turned to face Muc full on. His fists clenched and his arms ached to lash out.

  “To be fair, we weren't exactly bosom buddies at the time, Mullins,” Muc smiled. This was the last straw and now his hand did shoot out and he connected hard on the underside of Muc’s jaw. His tumbler went flying as he reeled back as his injured leg couldn't support him and he crashed down hard to the stone floor.

  “This doesn’t count as our fight,” Muc said from the floor as he stroked his jaw.

  “Get up!” Mullins shouted at him.

  “Fine,” Muc said, “But it still doesn’t count, I just want you to know that.” He pulled himself up using the sturdy oak table and faced Mullins.

  “Why are you just standing there?” Mullins asked, his own hands raised for a fight.

  “Do what you need to,” Muc said, “Get it off your chest, but my enemies are Edwards and Olocher, that’s who I’m saving my fury for.” Mullins was about to strike again but at the last moment he thought better of it. Muc made no attempt to stop him and it felt odd to be hitting a man who just stood there.

  “How many murders do you have on your hands now, Muc,” he said bitterly before turning to leave.

  “Keep yourself and the two women at home, until you hear Edwards and Olocher are dead,” Muc warned as Mullins left, but Mullins made no reply. He walked off back to those same two women, wishing he could go instead to the whiskey cabin, drink his fill and then fight heartily. He couldn't believe what he’d just heard and he didn’t know what he was going to say t
o Kate when he got home. The name of Edwards was not welcome in his house, but there was no way to tell her the truth without him coming up. They had to get out of this city and the terrible memories it held for them. If only the money would come in faster, he’d be gone on a pittance. It was still only a dream for now.

  Chapter 43

  Mr Edwards had been second and third guessing himself for days now. Still he didn’t know who his enemy was and his plan was becoming rushed as a result. He wasn’t getting to savour the rush of the work he was doing; to watch the chaos and fear grow steadily. Alderman James had his job back, but that was slim joy to him now. Olocher was getting restless too, despite the decrease in time between his kills. He wouldn’t be able to contain the boy much longer, that was becoming clear. Even tonight, when Olocher had left he didn’t say anything to Edwards, leaving him to wonder what he was going to do while he was out. The sound of the slamming back door announced both Olocher’s return, and his current mood.

  Edwards got up from the chair and went to the drinks cabinet to pour himself something. The door burst open and Olocher came in, covered in dirt and panting. His eyes were wild and for a moment, Edwards felt someone must be in pursuit of him.

  “What's wrong? Is someone after you?”

  “Someone is after me alright!” Olocher shouted, “You too!”

  “What are you talking about?” Edwards said unflappable, “Calm yourself and tell me what happened.”

  “Muc happened!” the loud voice once more, “He came after me and tried to kill me!”

  “Muc?” Edwards said gravely. He hadn’t heard Muc was back on his feet yet. It was not so much a surprise all the same.

  “Is he dead?” he asked Olocher.

  “No, I don’t think so anyway.”