Ancient Appetites

by Oisin McGann

  He finished washing his hands and, picking up the basin with one hand, came over to his battered victim. He threw the bloody water into the man's face. There was no reaction. Grabbing him by his greying hair, Slattery lifted the limp head and stared into the unresponsive face.

  'We are despised, my lads and I,' the bailiff declared softly, letting the man's head drop back onto his chest. 'It's not how we would like things – we're not evil men. We'd like to be treated with the consideration, respect and diffidence that normal people expect, but it's us as has to do the hard things that need to be done to keep order. The unpopular things.

  'Information, Mr Wildenstern, is the key to control,' he continued. 'Your father – if you don't mind me sayin' so – is a great believer in it. Know what's going on, know who's doing what and, above all, know who knows what you don't.' He indicated his senseless prisoner. 'This man's name is Eoin Duffy. He's a moneylender and a trader in stolen goods. A few days ago we received a tip-off that an engimal – one of those known as "bright-eyes" – that belonged to the company building the railway tunnel for the Wildensterns had been bought by a local collector. We retrieved the engimal from the collector and persuaded him to tell us where he had bought the creature. He gave us Mr Duffy's name.'

  McHugh tossed Slattery a rag and he dried his hands. Nathaniel was torn between being riveted and repulsed by the sight of the tortured man.

  'Mr Duffy here has been very helpful,' Slattery went on, taking down his shirt from a coathanger that hung from a hook on the stone wall. 'He gave us a name: Séamus Noonan. Noonan is a known associate of the late James McCord, the former owner of the deafened horse. Again, he's not known to be a rebel sympathizer, but Duffy here is, aren't you, Mr Duffy?' The unconscious man did not reply. Slattery grinned. 'Noonan gave him the engimal to pay off the money he owed Duffy and make a little more on top – they're worth a lot of ochre, these things.'

  Pulling on his shirt, he did up his tie and donned his waistcoat and jacket.

  'So we can put McCord and Noonan at the site of the explosion and connect them to the Fenians through our friend here. Duffy says their relationship was just business, but we're not swallowin' that. We still don't know who the spy in the house is, or who's runnin' the show. Chances are, he doesn't know; it would make sense for the boss to keep his lackeys in the dark. Duffy's not a strong man and he's probably told us all he can. We'll give him some time to pull himself together and then we'll work on him some more – just to see what else he can give us.'

  Nate gulped down a lump in his throat. He had grown up in an environment that had prepared him for violence. And this was not the first time he had witnessed grievous injuries; he had even seen men killed on the hunts in Africa. But what he saw here turned his stomach.

  'That's enough,' he said hoarsely. 'I want you to clean this man up, treat his injuries and take him down to the police office. This is a matter for the magistrate now'

  Slattery's expression went flat for a moment and Nate felt a chill go down his spine.

  'People of… tender years, like yourself, sir, are often disturbed by these harsh realities, sir,' Slattery began. 'But your father-'

  'My father put me in charge of this matter,' Nate interrupted him, 'despite my "tender years" – and you will do as I bloody tell you! Take this man to the magistrate! He will be tried properly and given the sentence he deserves. Do you understand me?'

  Slattery gazed at him with dead eyes. His two henchmen were on either side of Nathaniel and he felt his skin crawl as they looked to their boss for his reaction. The moment seemed to last an age. Then Slattery smiled and held his hands up in a friendly gesture.

  'As you like, Mr Wildenstern, sir,' he said at last. 'After all, we should have involved the police in our investigation from the start. I suppose my enthusiasm for being an amateur sleuth got the better of me. My apologies, sir. Mr Duffy will be delivered to the magistrate as you've instructed. If you don't mind, we'll follow up on the information we've received thus far and keep you – and the police, of course – informed of developments. Thank you, sir.'

  And then Slattery said no more. The three men stood staring at Nate, none of them moving. He looked from one to the next and eventually just nodded and walked out of the room. Stumbling along the dark corridor, he had reached the door before he realized he didn't have the key. With a start, he turned to find McHugh standing behind him, without his candle. The man hadn't made a sound. Reaching past Nathaniel, he unlocked the door.

  'Yeh'll be wantin' to get out, I expect, sir,' McHugh said to him, and then added in a softer voice, 'Not to worry. This is a messy business and not to everyone's taste – least of all a gentleman like y'self. But these toerags'll get their comeuppance, you can count on that. They'll regret the day they crossed the Wildensterns.'

  Nate nodded to him and stepped through the door. It was a bright day outside and he was taken aback by the sunshine. For some reason he had been expecting it to be late evening.

  'Take care, sir,' McHugh muttered, and then closed the door.

  Nathaniel climbed the steps and hurried away, trembling.

  Hugo and his sisters continued their recovery. It took little more than a day before they were able to eat solid food, which they put away with appetites that Gerald said must surely defy the laws of physics. They became insatiable, eating until they were fit to burst and then stopping only long enough to sleep for an hour or two and let their meals settle. When they finally started using the toilet – needing help at first, but soon walking down the corridor on their own – there was little about them that resembled the bodies that had been blown from the ground not so long ago. The women were talking now too, but only to their brother.

  Hugo had the appearance of a man in his fifties; he was still weak and sickly, but growing steadily stronger. His hair was black at the roots and he was cultivating a moustache and triangular goatee. The two women looked even younger, but in different ways. Brunhilde was a nervous, twitching mass of energy; her shrewish face constantly twisted into various aggressive expressions. She often appeared confused or suspicious of those around her. Elizabeth was more placid and far easier on the eye. She moved around with demure grace, seeming to find so many things that interested and amused her. Unlike her defensive sister, her fragility gave her the appearance of a delicate flower. But there was an air of calculation about her too, and as with Hugo, there was a keen intelligence evident behind those eyes.

  Their skin had stretched and become smooth, marred only by the pattern of wrinkles that were all that remained of their leather-like appearance, like a sheet of paper that had been crumpled and ironed out again. Proper clothes had been found for them, and books for them to read – they took a particular interest in history books and spent much time reading the King James Bible. But still, the sisters would speak to no one but Hugo, and Gerald became convinced that one of the reasons they were so shy was that none of them had woken with complete memories. They were still in a state of confusion.

  Their other brother, Brutus, continued to lie in his perpetual sleep.

  Two days after they became conscious, Edgar demanded an audience with Hugo. Nathaniel volunteered to take his ancestor upstairs. When they reached the elevator, Hugo looked suspiciously at the small room that lay past the open doors.

  'What is this?' he asked, frowning at Nate. 'You wish to imprison me?'

  'It's a mechanical lift,' Nate informed him. 'It will take us to the top floor. Cables… ropes attached to a winch and counter-weights pull this… this room up through the floors. It's very clever. You'll see.'

  He gently guided the old man inside and nodded to the boy at the lever. When the floor lifted under their feet, Hugo gave a start and stared down fearfully. He was uncomfortable for the ride up and obviously uneasy about being in a confined space. Considering the man's history, Nate thought that was entirely understandable.

  When the doors opened, Hugo gasped in shock at finding himself in a different corridor to the on
e they had just left. He lunged out of the lift to look around and then stepped back in again, gazing warily at his new surroundings.

  'What magic is this?!' he exclaimed.

  'It's-' Nate began, then stopped himself 'Hugo, there's a lot about our world you're going to find… different. We'll try and explain things as we go. But Father is waiting and he's not the most patient of men.'

  Leading the old man down to his father's study, he knocked on the door and they were summoned inside. Edgar was waiting in front of his desk. For the first time in Nate's memory, neither his father's servants nor his dogs were present. Hugo eyed the Duke with interest and then looked around at the huge room.

  'This is Edgar Wildenstern, Duke of Leinster and our Patriarch,' Nate said to him. 'Father, I give you Lord Hugo Wildenstern.'

  'Welcome to my home, sir,' Edgar told the man. 'Nathaniel, if you will excuse us. I will have someone escort our esteemed relative down when we are finished.'

  Nate nodded and stepped back through the door, closing it behind him. He was desperately disappointed at having to leave. That was going to be one hell of a conversation.

  Instead, he had another session with Silas to look forward to, learning how the accounts worked. The elevator's doors opened on the accounting floor and, with a sigh of resignation, he walked out and down to Silas's office. He was surprised to find Roberto there, talking to their cousin. Berto looked up and a look of relief came over him.

  'There you are, thank God,' he said. 'I need your help.'

  'And I need you here to go through some business,' Silas reminded Nate in an irritated voice. 'You go to America in a matter of weeks and we have too much to do as it is. Your father expects you to co-operate.'

  Nate gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to plant his fist in Silas's peevish face. He did not need reminding about his father's wishes.

  'I have to evict someone, Nate,' Berto told him in a sickened voice. 'Father said I have to go with Slattery and watch it done. They're harnessing up Trom! I don't want to do this on my own, Nate – I just can't. Why don't you come along? Wouldn't you like to take a ride in the country?'

  'What do you need me for?'

  'You're meaner than I am. You can offer moral support while I drive people out of their homes.'

  Nate took one look at Silas and then slapped his brother on the shoulder.

  'Anything for my brother! Of course I'll come. I'm sure the books can wait for another day,' he said, smiling.

  XX

  AN UNPLEASANT DUTY

  Daisy had never seen Trom up close before. It was kept in an island paddock with a moat crossed by a massive drawbridge to keep it from wandering, but unlike the engimals in the Wildensterns' zoo, she had never been tempted to go and look at it. Now she couldn't take her eyes off it.

  It was the size of a large locomotive; a broad, squat shape with a hide of grey, banded in places with zigzagging yellow and black stripes. Its skin was marked all over with scars, including the near-indestructible shovel that jutted out in front of its head like a massive metal jawbone. Like many engimals, it had wheels for feet, but Trom was one of a breed known as bull-razers; creatures that could use their shovel to ram through anything in their path. Bull-razers had thick, hinged belts that rotated round their wheels like a caterpillar, which gave them incredible traction. There was little that could stand in their path once they went on the rampage.

  'I don't know about you,' Roberto muttered beside her, 'but that thing gives me the willies.'

  The Wildensterns used Trom for evictions, and Daisy was accompanying her husband to oversee the first one under his stewardship. As she rode with Roberto in an open-topped coach behind the bull-razer, Daisy felt a sick fear at what they were about to do. It wasn't a very cold day, but there was a chill in the wind and the sun was hidden behind a ceiling of pale cloud.

  The engimal rolled ahead of them, its dull brain following commands from Slattery, who stood with a couple of his men in a sunken area on its back, holding its reins. Even sitting up in the coach, she could feel the vibrations from the ground caused by the movement of the engimal's huge mass. Berto sat beside her, gripping her hand and looking very queasy, his free hand playing with the buttons of his waistcoat. Nathaniel rode alongside them on his own beast. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face was a careful mask of indifference. It was a mask that many gentlemen wore when they ventured out into the less fortunate world. Behind them came a wagon filled with Slattery's men, in case extra muscle should be needed.

  Daisy smoothed out the folds of her peacock-blue dress as she wrestled with the conflicting emotions over what was about to happen. The tenants of three of these cottages had not paid their rent for months and so they had to be evicted. She had run a business and knew that there were times when you had to make hard decisions in order to maintain your profits. When her father had run his factories into the ground, she had been the one who had made the decision to shut some of the factories so that the rest could be spared. She had laid off loyal workers – many with families – to save a business that might still provide for many others.

  If someone was not paying their rent, then they had to make way for someone who would. You couldn't have something for nothing – not in this life. But Daisy knew it wasn't that simple. Most of the Wildensterns' tenants did not pay their rent with money; they paid with labour. These people were allowed to live on the land as long as they used it to produce enough crops or livestock for their landlords every year to cover the cost of their rent. In return, they could build a stone or turf cabin and keep a small patch of the land for themselves, on which they grew the nutritious potatoes that formed the main part of their meagre diet. If they could manage to grow enough to sell on the side, they were lucky. Then, along with the potatoes they might enjoy some milk, cabbage and sometimes butter or even a bit of bacon.

  Trom rumbled and clanked along the road, crushing the verge on either side under its rolling feet. There were few roads in the country that could accommodate its tremendous size. It snorted steam, grunting and growling with each pull on its reins. The sound of it brought people out of their houses to watch it pass. Everyone knew what it meant and everyone hoped the engimal wasn't coming for them. Slattery snapped the reins to lift the creature's head and gave the onlookers a gracious wave. Daisy looked away in distaste.

  All the food the peasants grew for their masters on the fertile land – the corn, wheat, beef, poultry and any number of other things – was sold in the cities or exported. As people grew more discontented and rebel raids on farm stores increased, armed soldiers were being used to guard goods being transported to the docks.

  The Wildensterns had been demanding more and more from their tenants, leaving them with less land and less time to grow their own food. Hungry people did not work well and many were failing to meet their landlords' demands. Evictions were increasing. People were getting angry. Daisy shook her head as she gazed out on the countryside. It was bad business – you couldn't keep squeezing your workers dry. Sooner or later, something would have to give.

  And using creatures like Trom and men like Slattery could only make things worse. The strange caravan of vehicles had travelled a few miles west from Wildenstern Hall and came to a stop near a clachan of five thatched cabins huddled together off a narrow road on a low hillside. Slattery handed the reins to McHugh and climbed down from the engimals back. Striding over to the carriage, he took off his hat and bowed his head to Roberto.

  'This won't take long, sir,' he said. 'Once their houses have been tumbled, they'll get the message.'

  He looked over and waved to McHugh, who turned the engimal off the road and urged it up the hill. The bull-razer pushed through a dry-stone wall as if it wasn't there, crushing the stones into the earth. Its treads churned up the soil as it climbed the sloping field towards the small group of houses. Slattery shook his head in disdain as people appeared from inside, shouting frantically to others, their voices high with shock and
fear.

  'There's always a few as'll put up a fight,' the bailiff told his young master, an eager smile flashing his gold teeth. 'We used to burn the roofs off the hovels. But we find this makes more of an impression. Everyone gets out sharpish when they see Trom coming.'

  The stone cabins looked like tiny, fragile constructions before the might of the huge engimal. It would be on them in seconds. It was absurd – this behemoth could smash through the legs of a railway bridge and here they were, sending it to demolish a few tiny cottages. Daisy could see some men standing in its path, waving at it to stop. McHugh paid them no attention. Slattery chuckled, shaking his head dismissively.

  'I'll thank you not to laugh, Mr Slattery' Berto said curtly.

  'Yes, sir.' Slattery's face immediately adopted an expression of utmost solemnity, which only made his men grin more widely.

  Daisy watched them sourly. Her husband rarely chose to exercise his authority and, as a result, he had not earned the respect of these hard men.

  'Roberto, somebody could be hurt,' she whispered. 'There must be another way of doing this.'

  She saw Nathaniel glance at her, but he said nothing. Berto did not take his eyes off the bull-razer. She knew he was horrified by what he was seeing. His hand was clutching hers so tightly her fingers were going numb.

  'Bugger this,' he hissed. 'They can keep the bloody houses. What do we care? We have a thousand more like them. What does it matter if we give away a few hovels and a patch of land? They can keep 'em! That'll give the old man the hump.'