by Shamus Young
You asked if the book by Friedrich Kappel might be a good starting place. I would say that in your case, it is not. The book is primarily linguistic in nature, and can often become quite dense and tedious. Moreover, the subject of Black Latin occupies only a small part of its pages. This is, I’m sure, the only reason the book has escaped the notice of the church. I have a copy of the book myself, but I turn to it only at great need, when all other resources have failed.
Rather than send you after yet another volume, allow me to give you the kernel of knowledge that I obtained when I began my studies. From there, the choice of study materials will become far more obvious.
The language was most likely named by the ignorant (possibly even illiterate) witch-hunters of the 15th or 16th century. To them, Latin was the “mystery” language of the church. It was a tongue they could not understand in either the spoken or the written form. When they encountered a new, unknown language in the manuscripts of captured sorcerers, they concluded it was a language in opposition to the (to them) holy language of Latin. So it was called Black Latin, although at the time nobody could read it.
In the middle of the 17th century, a man named Aleksander Nowicki somehow found himself in possession of a number of books of sorcery. In secret, he undertook the task of unraveling Black Latin, possibly on his own but possibly in connection with Jagiellonian University, where it is believed he was a man of some position. What he discovered was that Black Latin wasn’t a new mystery language at all. It was simply Greek, disguised under an alternate alphabet. He managed to translate a number of pages of sorcery notes and a small number of circle diagrams. He shared his findings with his colleagues, was accused of witchcraft, stood trial, and was executed, along with his wife. His name was blotted out of the record at the University and his work was destroyed. The knowledge he gained would have been lost entirely, if not for the fact that he outlined his findings in a letter to a friend in Salzburg, and that letter survived.
While using an alternate alphabet obscures the meaning of the text to outsiders, this was not its original purpose. The alphabet arose sometime during the early days of the Byzantine Empire, when the cultural and legal tolerance of sorcery allowed the practice to flourish. The alphabet was probably invented simply because it was more convenient than the standard Greek alphabet. The minimalistic characters were made from straight lines. This made it easier to carve them into stone, as was common in those days. The regular width of the characters made it easier for the sorcerer to plan the lettering so that each line or stanza formed a complete circle.
This system began as a basic alphabet substitution, but grew in complexity over the years. Most notably, new characters were invented to stand in for common letter groups. For example, the Greek letters “αίμ” are used often in spells involving blood, and so a replacement character was invented that could represent all three letters combined. This character does not appear in all cases, and was most likely only used when the careless writer found himself running out of room in his circle. This system of unpredictable letter substitution had the unintended effect of making it much harder for us to decipher their work, a task which has consumed a great deal of my attention over the last few years. (I would write a book explaining these findings myself, were it not so politically dangerous in my current situation. Hopefully that task will be undertaken by another.)
After a few generations, the proliferation of undead, madness, mind slaves, and destruction throughout the Byzantine Empire led to the outlawing of sorcery, and once again it became taboo. However, the great number of active sorcerers and the overabundance of texts made it difficult to stamp out the practice. It wasn’t until centuries later that the church rose up and became the primary protection against sorcery. Once this took place, sorcerers saw Black Latin (which was just an encrypted form of Greek to them) as a way of protecting their secrets.
I have enclosed a small diagram showing the mapping of Black Latin characters to their original Greek counterparts, along with the few group characters I’ve identified. I hope you will find it useful in your studies, and I urge you to be careful with this knowledge. We are caught between foes who should not be allowed to read these things. On one side are aspiring sorcerers who would use this knowledge to hurt others. On the other side is the church, which would use this knowledge as a justification for hurting us. Seldom does the road to understanding pass through a more narrow or more perilous way.
In friendship,
Sir Donovan White
Director, Ministry of Ethereal Affairs
February 24, 1877
Callisto
V
“The ship leaves in the morning,” Simon reported.
“Blast it,” Gilbert said. “And how much is it to buy passage?”
They were standing along the docks, amongst the shadows. They had spent the day in Liverpool, looking for signs of Headmaster Graves. Their only glimmer of hope came from a woman who owned a boarding house. She claimed to have given a bed to someone matching his description the previous night. He’d had two traveling companions with him. They had arrived late, said little, and departed early. Beyond that, she could tell nothing more.
“The price of a ticket is many times what we have,” Simon replied sadly. “And that’s just for one. In steerage.”
Gilbert cursed and turned to face the sea. It was now night. In the distance they could see warm light shining from the portholes of the SS Callisto, a venerable steam vessel. Against the dark sky they could see skeletons of her four masts. Her sides were painted black. Her superstructure stood several decks above the main one, and was painted white. A great smokestack rose from her center like the trunk of a mighty tree.
“Can we even be sure he’s on the ship?” Simon asked.
“I can’t imagine any other reason to come all the way to Liverpool and board this close to the docks. I suppose it’s possible he’s bound for some other ship on another errand. And I would feel better if he would poke his ragged head out for a moment where we could see him. But I don’t doubt that he’s on the Callisto.”
“But what can we do? A ticket is more than we can afford.”
“I might go myself. I hate to end our partnership the day after its forging, but it might be the only way to save Mother. I might swim out to the ship and... I don’t know. Maybe I can cling to the bottom? I don’t need to breathe. I could just ride the ship along with the barnacles, then swim ashore when we arrive.”
“And what would you hold onto?” came a nearby voice. “You’ll find nothing on the belly of the ship but smooth iron and rivets. The only places you might grasp are near the propeller, where you would be smashed to pieces.”
“Alice!” Gilbert said with alarm. Simon stammered a fragment of a greeting and blushed.
“And what if your grip failed during the journey?” she asked. “What would you do then? You’re dry skin and bone, now. You would sink right to the bottom, lost to the hopeless depths.”
“How did you find us?” Gilbert asked indignantly.
“Do not distract me, I was making a point.” She crossed her arms and looked out to the boat thoughtfully, “Perhaps if you sunk you might walk along the bottom of the ocean and arrive in America sometime in the next century. Assuming you knew which way to go in the dark, and you never lost your way. And assuming no marine life took an interest in you as food. And assuming the pounding salt water and crushing pressure didn’t ruin your body.”
“Maybe we could sneak aboard?” Simon blurted out.
“That plan is twice as deadly as the previous one. The bulk of the cargo is already loaded. Of what remains, nothing looks large enough to conceal you, much less Gilbert. And when you are discovered, Gilbert will be thrown overboard and you will be put to death for owning an abomination.”
“We don’t actually need to go anywhere on the ship,” Gilbert said as he looked longingly towards the Callisto. “We just need some way on board long enough for me to slay the Headmaster. And
his followers.”
“So he is not alone?” Alice said, raising an eyebrow.
“Rumors suggest he’s with two other men.”
“I think that committing a murder on a crowded ship would be supremely difficult. Three murders will be more-so. I doubt you could catch them all unaware. And even if you did kill them, getting away from the murders would be more impossible still. You would need more than swift legs to escape that level of justice. And again, getting caught would doom Sophie.”
“If you are trying to convince me to abandon my mother to her death then you are wasting everyone's time,” Gilbert said with irritation.
Alice was dressed as a proper Englishwoman today. She was wearing a white dress and a wide hat. The only thing that gave her away as an eccentric was the device she wore on her arm and the rather bulky belt around her waist. Gilbert saw she was also carrying a man’s cane, which he’d mistaken for an umbrella in the dark. He felt ashamed that she had been able to get close enough to hear their conversation without his noticing. He’d heard the footsteps on the boardwalk, but assumed it was a stranger without bothering to look.
“Don’t be silly. Of course I’m not trying to entice you to abandon your mother,” she replied. “But throwing yourself to the bottom of the ocean would not help her. Or Sophie.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“I suggest that Simon take my bag, and the three of us purchase proper, legal passage on this ship.”
“We don’t-” Simon began to say.
“I have coin,” she said firmly.
“Thank you!” Simon said with joy. “I’ve never been on a ship before. This is going to be grand!”
“I thought you couldn’t leave?” Gilbert remarked.
“That has changed, obviously. For now, I’m all that remains of the Ministry of Ethereal Affairs, and my only duty is to save Sophie. If I come with you it will reduce the chances of you winding up in the ocean.”
“Now that you’re here, couldn’t you just go and arrest them?” Simon asked timidly.
“Alas, no. If I were to attempt an arrest, I would be laughed at for my trouble. Would you submit to arrest at the hands of a young woman?”
“It depends on what the charge was, and what she had in mind by way of punishment,” Gilbert mused.
“And on you not being dead,” Alice reminded him.
“Of course,” Gilbert said, remembering himself. “So it’s settled. We’ll go on the ship. I’ll get your bag.” He took a step towards the imposing luggage sack lurking behind her.
Alice grabbed his sleeve and stopped him short. “I would not dream of having my ancient grandfather carry my heavy luggage,” she said as she pressed her cane into his hand. “He is deaf as a post, and never speaks. Also, he’s nearly blind.” She pushed his head forward so that he was looking downward. “There. We’re going to be in close quarters for the next few days, and the less attention you attract, the better we will fare. Leave the luggage to your grandson.”
Simon stood still for a moment until he realized she was talking about him. He hurried over and took up the bag.
“This is a sudden change,” Gilbert said as they walked to the ship. “A few days ago you were adamant that you couldn’t come with us.”
“I’m glad I did, since you were so intent on taking Sophie’s vigor with you to the bottom of the ocean. And I’m only doing so on the condition that you keep your word and rescue Sophie once your mother is safe.”
Gilbert stopped and turned to her. “Miss,” he said with sudden seriousness, “We can’t tell what will happen during the course of this endeavor. Maybe Sophie will die before we can save her. Maybe I’ll be destroyed. Maybe His Lordship will devise some new way to frustrate our purpose. Rather than make a rash promise and then be obliged to break it when circumstances change, let me replace my earlier defunct promise with a better one...”
Alice cocked her head to one side in curiosity. His tone seemed to have surprised her.
He drew in a deep, hissing breath, “On my honor as an Englishman and a soldier.”
“Former,” she corrected him.
“Very well. On whatever honor I might have left as a man who was once an Englishman and a loyal soldier, I promise that once my family is safe, I will aid the Witch Watch in setting things right with the time I have left. Whether by rescuing Sophie, or avenging her death, or whatever else needs to be done to protect Queen and country.” Gilbert ended with a modest bow.
Alice smiled and gave a curtsy. “You military men and your oaths!”
“How long will the journey take?” Simon asked as he walked behind them.
“It took about three weeks to cross the Atlantic when my family moved here,” Gilbert said.
“That must have been some years ago,” Alice replied. “These newer ships can make the journey in ten days, weather permitting. It won’t be a long journey, but long enough for us to get some proper rest.”
“Good!” said Simon, who seemed uncharacteristically subdued. “I’m feeling very tired.”
Gilbert yawned. He’d been moved to the afternoon watch again, and his sleep was still sorting itself out. He could have gotten a stretch of sleep this morning, but he preferred to finish whitewashing the barracks. These hours spent standing watch were taking their toll on his legs, reminding him that he was no longer twenty-two.
A visitor came up the path and the men straightened up. Everyone besides Gilbert was prone to slouching and leaning when they thought nobody was looking. Gilbert knew from his military days that behaving well when you incorrectly thought you weren’t under supervision was the best way to distinguish yourself. He stifled another yawn and put his eyes forward.
Nothing amused the on-duty men more than surprising visitors. People would walk up the path without noticing the guards. Once they had passed, the guards would deliberately make noise or move in order to see how badly they could startle the newcomer. They had all been startled themselves when they arrived. None of them really questioned it. It didn’t matter. This was simply how this path worked.
This fellow looked to be easy prey. He was looking down, very much absorbed in his thoughts. He was a narrow man of perhaps 40 or 50, with a thin mustache and a quick step. He was wearing a grey suit and a matching coachman hat.
The men held their breath. The secret to alarming people was to wait until they were in the middle of the circle of guards before making any sound.
The man stopped and looked up. He furrowed his brow, as if something was bothering him. Then he looked directly at one of the guards. “Ah!” he said suddenly. “How fascinating!”
His cry had startled the guards, and they all flinched with the sudden noise.
The man looked again at the house, and then back down at the guards. He could very plainly see them and did not mistake them for statues as people normally did. He walked into the circle and poked at some of the flagstones with his shoe. He walked around, and examined the guards from different angles.
“How very curious,” he muttered to himself as he proceeded up the steps to the manor.
“A state-room! How magnificent!” Simon said.
“Are you sure the two of you are willing to share a room with a corpse?” Gilbert asked as he poked around their new room. “The journey will take us over a week -- a long time in such close quarters.”
“I don’t see why that should present any difficulty,” Alice said. “Only two of us need to sleep and for that we have a bed and a generous couch. There is space enough for privacy when we need it. And besides, my supply of money is not endless. We don’t know what other expenses we might encounter on this journey. We don’t want to waste coin on comfort when we might need it later for more serious concerns.”
The room was lavishly furnished. Wood had been put down to hide the metal deck and bulkheads. Curtains had been put up to create the illusion of additional windows on the inside wall. The furniture was crafted from rich, dark wood and the chairs were finely
upholstered. It was as if someone had plucked the drawing room and bedroom from an English manor, and set them on board the ship.
“Feel the wall!” Simon said as he brushed his fingertips over the red and gold wallpaper. “It’s bumpy!”
“Perhaps later,” Alice said politely. Turning to Gilbert she said, “So now we’re on the way to America, as you wished. What will you do if our Headmaster is not headed the same way?”
“I’m sure he’s here. Did you see the bald fellow with the open shirt on the way to our room?”
“He was hard to miss,” Alice admitted.
“That was Ivar the Scotsman. He and I were guards for Lord Mordaunt together. I’m betting he’s one of the Headmaster’s traveling companions.”
“So our course is correct,” Alice said with satisfaction.
“I hired you as a guard, not a governess,” Headmaster Graves said, his thin, pale lips pulled into a sneer.
“I signed on with that understanding. But then you saddled me with wayward children.” Gilbert said this with the practiced, respectful insolence that he saved for fools of superior rank. He was standing at attention. Headmaster had no rank, but it was easier for Gilbert to understand his place in Ravenstead if he thought of him as an officer.
“You’ve made quite a mess of the stables,” Graves said. “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”
“If you ignore the men, the place is cleaner now than it has been at any time since it was built.”