The Bestiarum Vocabulum (TRES LIBRORUM PROHIBITUM)

by Dean M. Drinkel

  “That must be Jakisenhelm,” said Jules. Confirming it, the town sign was a large stone cross, the name embossed on a brass plate. “Do you think it’s German?”

  “It could be, it doesn’t sound English.”

  “Maybe its Olde English,” smiled Jules.

  Just after the cross was a narrow, cobbled ford. The water was only a couple of inches deep, coming through a culvert set into the verge. Ahead were a dozen houses, a post office with its box attached to a telegraph pole and a pub.

  “If it says The Slaughtered Lamb, keep driving,” Jules said and it surprised a laugh out of him. “I mean it,” she stated and turned to him, smiling.

  The stone-built pub took up two frontages, with narrow windows to the first floor, a red slate roof and several chimneys. The sign, hanging off several pieces of metalwork, identified it as the Jack-O-Green and showed a man, in ratty clothes, standing in the middle of a field, an angry expression on his face. Several cars were parked in front of the building and two sandwich boards detailed what food and beer was available.

  “Let’s eat here,” said Jules.

  Alex pulled in next to an old brown Saab that had seen better days. He got out and stretched, hearing his back creak as he moved slowly from side-to-side. He watched as Jules got out, did a quick stretch and walked around the back of the car to stand next to him. She slid her arm around his waist and kissed him quickly on the lips.

  “After you,” he gestured towards the opened front door. She gave a mock curtsy and went in, with Alex close behind.

  The interior was narrow but the windows let in a lot of light and it didn’t take Alex’s eyes long to adjust. A combination of round and square tables hugged the street-side wall and there was a narrow walkway to the bar. More tables on the left were squeezed into a space formed by the side and back walls and the bar itself. A few were occupied by people eating from food laden plates that smelled wonderful. A handful of people stood at the bar nursing pints, most of them dressed for farm labour and whilst they stopped talking to take in the new arrivals, they quickly resumed their conversations after a quick, friendly nod.

  The low ceiling was whitewashed and beamed with dark wood. There were several large pictures on the walls - depictions of the pub, old cigarette card collections, vivid paintings of the moors and a couple featuring what appeared to be the same man from the pub sign. A dart-board hung between two of the street-side windows but nobody was playing.

  “The food smells great,” said Jules.

  Alex felt his stomach growl. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

  They made their way to the bar, stood by the corner and Jules started to read the menu. The nearest of the farm hands, who looked younger than their twenty-two year old, looked up and nodded. “Evening,” he said.

  “Evening,” replied Alex, “it’s been a lovely day.”

  The man shook his head. “Too ‘ot for work.”

  Alex smiled. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Hello my loves,” the barmaid came bustling over to them. She was tall and slim, with grey hair that was scooped up on top of her head in a bun. Her face was lined but Alex couldn’t place her age - she might have been his peer or somewhere in her sixties. “What can I get for you?”

  Jules leaned forward on her elbows. “Are you still serving food?”

  “Yes we are. It’s good honest grub, nothing fancy but we’ve won awards.”

  “That’s great,” said Jules.

  “Are you just passing through?” The barmaid looked from Alex to Jules.

  “We are,” he replied, “we’re heading back to York.”

  “So where are you visiting us from?”

  “Gaffney, in the Midlands.”

  “The Midlands, you say? That’s a long way to come.”

  “Well,” Alex added, “we’re in the middle of a second honeymoon.”

  The barmaid pressed her hands together and smiled broadly. Her teeth were very even and very white. “Oh that’s lovely, good for you. How about I get your drinks order sorted, then you can find a seat and decide on your food. Cooking times are pretty quick, since it’s still early evening.”

  Alex ordered a pint of bitter he’d never heard of before, Jules had a white wine and soda and they went to sit beside the old fireplace, whose hearth was decorated with dried grass shaped like a badger.

  “To us,” Jules, raised her glass.

  “Cheers,” said Alex and took a sip of his beer. It was very good. He leaned back in his chair as the barmaid came over, moving quickly between the tables with practised ease. Away from the bar, Alex could see that she was painfully thin, that her outfit was almost hanging off her. She smiled broadly at both of them and put the menus on the table.

  “No rush,” she stated, “but we start to get busy in about half an hour.”

  “Thank you,” said Jules, watching her go. She looked back towards Alex and raised her eyebrows. “Wow, she looks ill.”

  He nodded, picked up his menu and decided on the steak. Jules opted for the steak and ale pie. He went to order it at the bar, the barmaid writing the instructions with quick simplicity.

  When Alex rejoined Jules at the table they sat in comfortable silence, taking in the knick-knacks and decorations. The angry man in tattered clothes from the sign appeared in a series of four prints, each indicating a season, that hung behind Jules over the fireplace. In each one, starting with winter, he appeared closer and closer until Autumn where his head almost filled the frame, a scowl and derision clear in his face. Alex had no idea what it meant, but the man was clearly not happy.

  Next to these was a block of pictures showing people standing at the bar. Some were recent images but others, the emulsion fading, stretched back decades.

  The barmaid came back carrying two big plates. She set them down - “careful, they’ll be hot…” - and took two sets of cutlery, wrapped in serviettes, from her apron pocket.

  “Thank you,” said Jules.

  “Thanks,” Alex added. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who’s the man on the pub sign? He’s in a few of the pictures in here too.”

  The barmaid didn’t need to look up. “That’s Jack, he’s a local legend.” She stood straight and linked her fingers, resting them in front of her belly. “Jack In Irons his name is, a giant who haunts lonely roads around here and takes away unwary travellers.”

  “What does he do with them?” asked Jules, as she unwrapped her serviette and put it on her lap.

  The barmaid smiled, as if pleased her fairy tale had got some attention. “Who knows? But he carries a large spiked club to make sure he gets his way.”

  “Wow, that’s some story,” said Alex.

  “All true,” agreed the barmaid, “or so my folks told me.”

  “Vera! Another ale up here.”

  The waitress turned and waved a hand at the young man who was holding his pint glass up. “Hold your water, Gary, I’ll be there in a minute.” She turned back to Alex and Jules. “Enjoy your meal.”

  ***

  The food was as good as Vera had promised and the bill was very reasonable.

  Jules leaned back, puffing her cheeks out as she exhaled. “Wow, I know I’ve eaten that.”

  Alex put his elbows on the table, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands and watching the way Jules’ t-shirt pulled tight across her chest. “It was nice, wasn’t it? Like you.”

  His wife smiled lazily. “You’re comparing me to a Sirloin and a slice of cheesecake?”

  “Not quite, though you’re as beautiful as any cheesecake pin-up.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “Will it get me anywhere?”

  She smiled, her eyes bright. “It might. Why don’t you take me back to the hotel and find out?”

  Alex quickly got to his feet. “I wish we weren’t so far away now.”

  Jules laughed as she stood up. “You’ve been with me for a quarter of a century, I’m sure an hour i
n the car won’t be too much of a hassle.”

  Alex smiled. “But things are developing, meaning that hour is going to last a lifetime.”

  He watched Jules’ eyes flick to his crotch then back to his face. “Maybe I can tease you more as you drive?”

  “Are you off then?” called Vera from behind the bar.

  Alex turned and raised his hand. “Yes, lovely meal, thanks very much.”

  “You’re very welcome, come back soon.”

  “We’ll try,” said Alex.

  The young man at the bar, Gary, raised his pint in acknowledgement. “Goodnight.”

  ***

  Although it was only early evening, twilight was gathering outside as the sun sank behind the crest of the hill. Its light cast the few clouds in the sky as pink fingers and the temperature had dropped slightly.

  They walked to the car, hand in hand and got in.

  “If we keep on this road, I reckon we’ll get back to York.”

  He did up his seat belt, switched on the engine and backed into the road. It was clear of traffic but, a hundred yards away, a family was crossing. Two men, a teenage girl and a small boy, all of them dressed in dark tweed. The small boy stopped to watch them pass and raised a hand as if in greeting. Jules returned the wave.

  The road curved to the left and low stone cottages clung to the small lip of pavement. There was a small wooden fence built into the verge that had a sign on it which read ‘thank you for driving carefully through our village’. After this, they were back onto the moors. Jules watched the countryside go by, her feet on the dashboard and Alex was content to leave her like that as he concentrated on the winding road.

  “What’s that?”

  He’d already seen it and started braking before Jules spoke. The road ahead was blocked by a series of large universal barriers, alternating red and white. In front of them was a row of cones and an easel, holding a large sign that read ‘Road Closed Ahead’.

  Alex brought the car to a stop and looked at Jules wistfully - this was going to add another hour, at least, to the journey.

  She pursed her lips. “Back to Jakisenhelm then?”

  “I think so, but I haven’t seen any side roads so we might have to cut back across the moors to the A169.”

  “Well that’s pretty shitty.”

  “Yeah, that’s another hour off love-making.” He turned the car. The road was narrow enough that a three-point-turn was impossible, but he managed it in five.

  He drove back to the village. Across from the pub, sitting on the wall, was the small boy who’d waved at Jules before. He watched them go by, a big smile on his face. Jules waved but this time, he ignored her.

  The car climbed out of the village, the light fading. Alex clicked on the headlights.

  “It must be up here somewhere,” he stated.

  “It feels like we’ve gone too far up, but I didn’t see the turn-off, did you?”

  “No.” He pressed on, taking the corners slowly and speeding up on the straights.

  They rounded another corner. “There!” Jules exclaimed.

  The sign was on the offside verge, a tall white post and two pointers. “Jakisenhelm 2” was on the one closest to them, “York 20” was on the other. There was no junction.

  “But that’s not right,” said Alex, “where’s the turn to take us back to Goathland? Anyway, York has to be behind us.”

  “The sign we saw before was broken.”

  “So how did we miss it?”

  “I’m pretty sure we didn’t,” explained Jules.

  They passed the sign which had clearly been there for a while, the paint was weather beaten and peeling and the pointers were topped with lumpy bird deposits.

  “So where’s our road then? We turned left to head for Jakisenhelm, which would have followed the direction for York. Surely we’re heading back towards the coast now.”

  “But we can’t be, the sign said York.”

  “I know,” he muttered, “I know.”

  They drove on. Every now and again the road would dip down and with the retaining walls and bushes blocking out the remains of the light, the car would be in deep gloom. Alex knew he shouldn’t be worried, knew they weren’t that far from civilisation whichever road they took but something was nagging at him. It pressed at his shoulders, caressed the back of his head.

  The road took them over a narrow stone bridge under which trickled a thin ribbon of water. A field filled with long wild grass led into a stand of trees. As the road climbed, Alex could see that it was more than a stand, it was the edge of a forest.

  “There’s another sign,” said Jules.

  It was on the verge opposite a turning and the pointer read ‘York 15’.

  “There we go,” she pointed, “turn left for York.”

  “But that’s doubling back,” explained Alex.

  “Right, we go back and therefore head for York.”

  Alex indicated and turned. The road was narrower than the previous one and bordered by a stone wall that stood to mid-door height, cutting through the middle of the forest. It wasn’t dark but he kept the full beam on. After a few hundred yards the stone wall stopped and the road widened slightly, a narrow gulley on either side marking the territory between tarmac and dirt. The last of the sun shone through the canopy, lighting up the edges of the forest.

  The silence in the car grew heavy. Jules fidgeted in her seat and put her shoes back on. “I’ll bet this place looks nice in the daylight,” she said.

  Alex knew what she was doing, it was the same thing she always did - trying to make the best of a situation. “Yeah, maybe we’ll come back one day.”

  She snorted with derisive laughter. “I think I’m done with the moors after this unexpected mystery tour.”

  That made him laugh and he could feel the tension pull away from him a little.

  The road rose, the forest staying level with it. “I wonder,” he mused, “if we’re going up the hill we could see from the village?”

  “I don’t know, I’d just like to see another car.”

  “Are you scared?”

  She turned to look at him. “No, scared is not the right word because we’re in England and this isn’t some horror movie.”

  “But?”

  She paused. “But something doesn’t feel right and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s almost…oh shit!”

  “What?”

  “There, in the trees.”

  “What?” Alex slowed down, looking to where Jules was pointing.

  “Someone was in there, running parallel to the road.”

  “Was it a jogger, what?”

  “I don’t know but they were fucking huge.”

  Alex decided not to stop completely and kept the car moving forward, his eyes flicking between the road and the gloom of the forest. “What do you mean?”

  “I could just see these two big legs pumping between the trees.”

  Alex bit his lip, not sure of what to say.

  “I know it sounds crazy but that’s what I…watch out!”

  Alex caught the barest glimpse of a kid standing in the middle of the road before he swung the wheel sharply to the left. The car hit the gulley with a terrible thud and bounced onto the grass. He slammed his foot on the brake but the vehicle slid forward and clattered into a tree. Alex felt the seatbelt dig painfully into his shoulder and his elbows jolted. From the corner of his eye he saw Jules head whip forward and back, her brace position keeping her otherwise in place.

  The crash happened in a matter of seconds and it took twice as long for him to start moving. He rubbed his neck and shoulder and unclipped his belt.

  “Jules, are you okay?”

  “Yes, are you? Check the child.”

  Alex got out, leaning on the car until his legs stopped shaking. He couldn’t see anything on the road at all. He staggered down the gulley and onto the tarmac, crossing to the other side and checking the gulley there.

  “Hello? Is there anyone there? Are yo
u hurt?”

  He heard a door open and turned to see Jules get out. She walked around the back of the car rubbing her neck. The front of the car had crumpled and steam was escaping up the tree. Water was puddling underneath.

  “Are you okay?” he called.

  “Yes, can you see anyone?”

  “No. Did you see who was in the road?”

  “A child,” she said, “a young boy. It can’t have been, but I think it was the one we saw by the pub.”

  “If this hill does look down on the pub, it could have been him.” He crossed back to Jules who had her phone out and was turning slowly in a circle.

  “No fucking reception,” she spat.

  Alex looked up at the sky. “Hey kid,” he yelled, “you’re not in trouble, just let us know you’re okay.”

  “Hello!” yelled Jules, “is there anybody there?”

  There was no reply but Alex could hear a noise that sounded like metal being struck rhythmically. He turned in a complete circle but apart from Jules and the hissing car, there was nothing.

  A flash of something, way beyond the car and Alex tried to follow the two large objects, upright and dark, that were moving between the trees at speed. They were gone in a matter of seconds. Had he just dreamed them, suggested by what Jules said she’d seen?

  The metallic sound was getting closer and he realised what it was. “I can hear chains,” he said.

  “That’s what it is,” replied Jules. “Why would anyone have chains in a forest at this time of night?”

  “I don’t know, but they’re not shouting back at us.” He looked at the dying car and made a decision. “I think if we cut through the trees here we should find ourselves above the pub. We can ring the AA from there and get stuff sorted.” Alex looked at his watch. “It’s a little after eight, so we’ve got at least three hours to make it down.”

  “But what about the child?”

  “Nowhere to be seen Jules, and staying here after dark won’t help him or us. We can call for help when we get to the pub.”

  “Okay,” she bit her lip and clearly not completely happy with the plan.