The other nodded. “The worst pain of my life.” His look turned to Alice. “Miss Milner, I had hoped that you would have had sense enough to remain at the manor, after the recent events there. I hope you will now return to your fiancй’s side.”
Alice stared back at him coldly. “I will—if Dr. Darwin will accompany me.”
Ledyard hesitated, then shook his head. “Dr. Darwin came here at my invitation to examine the flint pit and the ancient monuments, not to become involved in local medicine.” His manner was embarrassed and uneasy.
“But you are the one, a week ago, who told me that he is unmatched in the medical field,” said Alice. She was beginning to look angry, and her jaw was jutting forward. “If that is true, I would expect you to welcome his help, even if you deem it bold to ask for it.”
Ledyard’s embarrassment seemed to grow. “Of course, I would welcome his help, although it would indeed be an imposition to request it. But there are reasons…” He paused, clearly uncomfortable. “I will compromise,” he said at last. “If you will go now to the manor, we will—with Dr. Darwin’s approval—follow you later.”
Darwin had caught something in Ledyard’s look. “That is perfectly agreeable to me and to Colonel Pole,” he said quickly. He turned to the door, where the innkeeper was standing holding a tray of coddled eggs, unashamedly following the whole conversation. “Landlord, if you will bring those over here, we are ready to consume them. And is there a table out behind the inn, where we can eat in the open air?”
“I suppose so,” said the fat innkeeper grudgingly. “There’ll still be damp on that bench, though. Straight out the back door, on past the trough.” He put down the laden tray and left reluctantly.
“You need food too, my dear,” said Darwin to Alice. “Why not carve something now from the loin, to eat on the way back to the manor? Help yourself also to bread and eggs.”
Alice gave them a puzzled look, as though she was not sure how she had been made to follow Ledyard’s suggestions. There was a hint of future reprisals in her expression, until she picked up the carver and savagely began to cut thick slices of pork.
“I assume that Philip Alderton’s condition has improved,” said Darwin, “since you are not afraid to leave him without physician.”
“I think his situation is stable.” Ledyard picked up a slice of pork that Alice had cut and began to chew on it thoughtfully. “He lost a lot of blood, but most of the wounds are not as deep as I feared. And he has a remarkable constitution.”
“But he lost enough blood to make him lose consciousness?”
Ledyard hesitated again. “I am not sure of that. I would have said no, but I could find no head blow or other wound that could account for it, and loss of blood is the obvious explanation.”
He paused and looked at Alice.
“Miss Milner, you have now cut enough pork to feed the Tribes of Israel. Not an ideal choice of metaphor, I suppose.” He smiled to himself, and suddenly appeared a younger and more attractive man. “At any event, are you now ready to return to the manor? I wish to have a private conversation with the doctor.” Alice gave him a poisoned look. She seemed ready to argue, but Jacob Pole had stood up and walked across to the table.
“I may as well go with you,” he said. “I know from experience that we ordinary mortals get nothing from the conversation when a few bloodletters get together.”
He began to place pork and bread in a square of yellow cheesecloth. He winked at James Ledyard, who was looking at him gratefully, and turned back to Alice.
“I remember a conversation between three witch doctors, when I was looking for fire opals in Malagasy.” He began trying to ease Alice toward the door. “I had just been stung by the Great Madagascar Hornet, in an uncomfortable place that I prefer not to mention. Those potion-peddlers were jabbering away in their cuclapi dialect, discussing ways of removing the sting that would leave me enough to sit on. I lay there on my belly, warding off mosquitoes the size of bumble-bees…”
“Colonel Pole,” interrupted Alice. “We have no Great Madagascar Hornet in these parts, but”—she smiled—“if our local fishermen are to be believed, we have pike in our streams big enough to swallow a swan in one mouthful. You should get along well with them. I will come with you, but from choice, not from subterfuge.”
Darwin’s eyes remained on James Ledyard as the latter watched Alice leave the room with Jacob Pole. “A remarkable young lady,” he remarked.
“Very much so,” replied Ledyard fervently. He picked up the tray of pork and bread and gestured to Darwin to bring the eggs and beer. The two men went outside and settled themselves at a ramshackle table out of earshot of the inn kitchen.
Darwin began to attack the food with gusto. “I assume that there are aspects of Philip Alderton’s attack that are too unpleasant to mention in front of his fiancйe,” he said, through a mouthful of warm bread and goose-egg yolk. “What were his injuries?”
“As I described them,” replied Ledyard. “That was not the main reason for my reticence.” He was looking on with some surprise at the energy with which Darwin was demolishing the contents of the tray.
“Come on, man, eat up,” said Darwin, catching the look. “It’s the law of the world, you know. Eat or be eaten. Try some of these eggs. You can’t beat a goose egg for flavor.”
Ledyard shook his head. “Let me talk while you eat.” He settled back in the sun and put his knitted cap back on his head. “I was over in Moston last night, delivering a child. Stillborn, sad to say. I came back to Lambeth late, and was just settling into my bed when I was roused to go over to the manor and look to Philip Alderton. On my way, I went past the flint pit. Did Alice mention to you that Alderton and Barton were found actually in the pit?”
Darwin nodded.
“Then you may know that there is a particular story about it in the village. The pit is old—that’s why we were both interested in it. I estimate it was there thousands of years before the Romans, and as I told you in my letters it must be from the very dawn of our civilization. Now, did you ever hear of Black Shuck?”
Darwin leaned back and stopped chewing. His eyes were thoughtful. “Aye, I’ve read of it, but not recently. And not near Lambeth, either. It’s a legend by Cromer, forty miles along the coast. The black hound, big as a calf, that runs down travellers. What of it?”
“I’ll come to it. Lambeth has its own legend of a monster. The Lambeth Immortal. It has been here, the word goes, for hundreds of years, and it lives in the Alderton Pit. You’ll not get a villager there at night, and it’s hard enough during the day.”
“And the monster resembles Black Shuck?”
“In effect, if not in appearance. It rends its victim, as Barton and Philip Alderton were savaged.”
“But not Charles Alderton. Alice said he died of a seizure.”
“Of a stroke of some kind, an attack of apoplexy. Great excitement—or great fear— would produce that effect. Charles’ health in his final years was not good. But he had no wounds on his body.”
James Ledyard blinked his dark eyes in the bright sun. There was a restless and secretive air to him when he spoke of the Aldertons. Although Alice Milner had been raised in the West Country, it was Ledyard, with his broad, dark skull, who looked the Celt. He rubbed his unshaven chin and pulled his cap lower over his eyes.
“There is more,” he said. “Even Black Shuck could not account for last night’s attacks. Alice does not know it yet, but Barton had taken two of the hounds from the manor with them to the pit last night. Cambyses and Berengaria, each over five stone in weight, each of them young and strong. Their bodies were also found in the Pit. When I add that Tom Barton is a hefty young man, and that Philip Alderton has perhaps the strongest build of anyone I have ever examined, you will begin to see the problem. There is something in the flint pit that could kill two powerful and well-trained dogs and a strong man, and very nearly kill another with the muscles and build of a Hercules. Do you now see my dilemma? I am
loath to add to village mutterings about the return of a monster, but I can offer no rational explanation of my own. It is a mystery.”
Darwin was sitting hunched on the bench, his double chin cupped in his hands, his elbows on the table in front of him. His grey eyes were thoughtful, alight with their usual burning curiosity.
“No,” he said at last. “It is not a mystery. It is three mysteries. What was it that killed Charles Alderton, that induced his apoplexy? What was it that killed the hounds and Tom Barton, and nearly killed Philip Alderton? And the final question: why were they all in the flint pit, at night? There must be a single answer that will explain all these things.”
He placed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. “I do not think we will find answers here. With your permission, I would like to examine Philip Alderton, and inspect his wounds for myself. Also, I would like to see the body of Tom Barton. I too do not care for superstition. We must give the airy nothing of the Lambeth Immortal a local habitation and a name, and our efforts to do that must begin at Alderton Manor.”
* * *
“Why were we in the flint pit? I must say that was my doing entirely.” Philip Alderton’s bedroom was in the north wing of the manor, facing out to the distant sea. Alderton, weak but fully awake, lay propped up on pillows in the ornate four-poster bed. Darwin was seated by the bedside, and Jacob Pole stood by the window, watching the clouds sail up like great galleons over the northern horizon.
“Three days ago,” went on Alderton, his chest and arms bare, “I was going through some of Uncle Charles’ possessions in the old study in the west wing. As you can see from the style of this building, the manor is well over two hundred years old, and I wanted to find the master plan with an eye to a few changes to the buildings. There were old books and papers scattered everywhere, in odd chests and bookcases. I found all sorts of things, but not the plans I wanted. Late in the afternoon, I found the book that is over there on the mantelpiece. Colonel Pole, would you bring it over here and show it to Dr. Darwin.”
While Alderton was speaking, Darwin had been gently inspecting his wounds and his general physique. There were deep lacerations on the chest and arms, and one on Alderton’s cheek near his left eye. Ledyard’s description of him as a Hercules had been no exaggeration, although it occurred to Darwin that the likeness was drawn from the wrong mythology. With his pale blue eyes, straw-colored hair, great muscled arms, and huge rib cage, Alderton was a Norse god, a Thor who would have no trouble swinging a hundred pounds of double-bladed war axe at the enemy.
“You are fortunate,” said Darwin. “Your constitution is remarkable. Most men with these wounds would be too weak to talk. I assume that you have always been unusually strong physically? No sickness as a child?”
“None to speak of.” Alderton sounded casual. “I could always perform the usual fairground tricks—straighten horseshoes, or bend six-inch nails. At the moment I feel as weak as a primrose.” He nodded at Pole, who was looking curiously at the book he was holding. “Colonel, would you please open that and give the parchment in it to Dr. Darwin. I found it in Uncle Charles’ daily work-book, just as you now see it.”
Darwin took the yellowed page. It was singly folded and about five inches square. The writing was crabbed and spidery, and the ink had aged to a rusty red-brown, much faded. Darwin carried it over to the window to get a better light.
“Aloud, if you would,” said Philip Alderton. “Then let me explain it to you.”
Pole thought there was a condescending tone in Alderton’s voice, and looked quickly over at Darwin. The latter didn’t seem to have noticed, as he frowned at the paper in his hand.
“Moon full on the Hill,” he read, “Wind strong on the Mill, No cloud to the East. Pit send forth the Beast.”
He paused, frowning. “Go on,” said Alderton.
“Howl through the tombed brain,” Darwin continued. “God-Mercy on my Pain.”
“That was in Uncle Charles’ daybook, on the page two days before his death,” said Alderton. “The last entry in that book declared his intention to ‘resolve the mystery in the Pit’ as soon as the weather conditions were right. On the night of his death the moon was full, and the weather was clear and windy.”
Darwin was still peering closely at the yellowed paper. “This is old, well over a hundred years. See the texture of the sheet, and the writing style. Has the mill stood in its present position for such a time?”
“And longer. It is one of the oldest post mills in East Anglia. The Aldertons ground corn there for the Plantagenets. Now, if you will, take a look at my uncle’s diary. You will find it describes the origin of the note you are holding. Uncle Charles found it in the lockbox of another of my ancestors, Gerald Alderton. He quit the manor in 1655, and devoted his life to religious works. After his death, his belongings were returned here. They were meager enough, just the lockbox and a Bible.”
“But that means the monster has been in the Pit for at least a hundred and thirty years,” said Pole. “No creature lives that long. Am I not right, Erasmus?”
Darwin did not answer. He had walked to the window and was looking out across the land, north to the distant salt flats. Flowering sea-lavender, pink and purple, extended from the nearer shore to the long spit of sand that was still building to remove Lambeth further from the sea. He looked again at the paper he was holding.
“But Gerald Alderton survived the monster,” he said, ignoring Pole’s question. “And you have survived. What is your interpretation of this message?”
“Part of it is clear enough.” Alderton moved his great shoulders on the pillows. “When the moon is close to full, and there is a strong wind and a cloudless night, a Beast appears in the flint pit. That much, I decided when I first saw the paper. The rest of it, even after my experience there, remains a mystery to me. Last night the conditions were fitting. I had offered Barton a guinea to go to the mill with me and work it at night. When I saw the weather was suitable, I decided to go to the pit also. I offered Barton another guinea to go there with me, and see what we could find. He would not agree at first, but his greed drove him.”
“And he paid for that greed with his life,” said Darwin quietly.
Philip Alderton shrugged. “He was paid for his work, and I had no reason to think there would be real danger to him in the pit. Legends are not facts. It was unfortunate that he died, but my own conscience is clear.”
“Aye.” Darwin caught Pole’s look, and shook his head a fraction. “For Tom Barton, it was indeed unfortunate. But you insist that you thought there was no danger, despite the village superstitions?”
“I believed there was something in the pit, that I admit. The legend of the Lambeth Immortal is too clearly established for me to dismiss it entirely as a folk tale. I will go no further than that. Surely that is your view also, as a rational man.”
“I prefer to defer judgment,” said Darwin quietly, “until I have had the chance to examine the body of Tom Barton, and those of the two hounds.”
Philip Alderton showed his first sign of emotion. “The hounds are a loss; they were fine beasts, and valuable ones.”
“What I do not understand,” replied Darwin, “is your own position. You were in the pit, you were attacked by the Beast, and presumably you defended yourself against it. But you have said nothing of this. Did you see the Beast? What was its size, its shape, its method of attack. Have you no recollection?”
“Nothing. I remember that Barton and I were looking about us when we got to the bottom of the pit. I had just remarked that I could see nothing unusual. The moon had risen enough to give us a good view of the walls of the pit, and just to the east of us we could see the mill. It had been left free to turn at sunset, and with the strong east wind the sweeps were moving at a fine pace. I was thinking again about the waste of money in failing to operate the mill at night. After that I recall nothing until I woke here in this bed. I saw no Beast, nor do I know how or when it came to the Pit.”
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br /> “I doubt you will be operating the mill at night, after last night’s events,” said Darwin. “I think the best thing for you to do now is rest. I want to see the bodies. Then, I think that a walk over to the mill may be in order.”
Alderton leaned back. “It irritates me to lie idle like this. I wish that I felt strong enough to come with you.”
Darwin picked up his broad-brimmed hat from the foot of the bed. “Not yet. You’ll be back on your feet in a few days, but give it time. One encounter with the Lambeth Immortal is more than enough. Let Colonel Pole and me make the visit.”
“Here, Erasmus,” said Pole, as soon as they had left the room and were out of earshot of Alderton. “I’ll face danger as well as the next man, you know that. But I’m not sure I like this at all. What do you hope to see in the Pit, anyway, in broad daylight?”
Darwin’s mind seemed far away. “Daylight?” he said absently. “Did I mention daylight? We’ll be going there tonight, when the moon is up—and we must hope for a clear sky, and another strong wind. The Immortal is a finicky beast, it seems, when it comes to a personal appearance.”
* * *
“And the Pyramids,” said Jacob Pole. He put down his glass. “There’s nothing in the world the least bit like them. Armies of slaves, generations of effort—they were the burial place for kings, with all their gold and their jewels.” He shook his head. “Picked clean long ago,” he added regretfully.
“But just to see them and study them.” Alice Milner had been hanging on Pole’s words as though they were a new gospel. “I’d give half my life to visit the places you have been talking about tonight.”
“Well, I gave half mine, and there’s little enough to show for it. Some unlucky devils have given a good deal more than that. You know, they put a pretty trap in some of the Pyramids, just to discourage thievery. They placed a stone at the entrance to the inner tomb. As soon as it was moved, the stones above it fell in all along the tunnel. I’ve seen crushed skeletons that must have been two thousand years old.”
The Amazing Dr. Darwin Page 17