Ancient Appetites

by Oisin McGann

  'Indeed,' he gasped. Then, looking up at his opponent with a grimacing smile, he added: 'So… same time tomorrow?'

  XXII

  ETIQUETTE AND THE RULES OF ASCENSION

  Daisy poured the tea under the judgemental eye of her Aunt Eunice. Elizabeth and Brunhilde sat on a sofa on the other side of the small table, one a picture of absolute stillness, the other chewing her thumbnails down to the quick, her eyes darting suspiciously around the spacious drawing room. Daisy knew that her conversation skills were about to be tested to the limit.

  'You won't have had tea before,' she said. 'Might I suggest a little sugar and milk?'

  Neither woman answered, so Daisy decided for them, handing their cups across the table before serving herself and Eunice.

  'Daisy and I have been asked to introduce you to life in the modern world,' Eunice began, pressing a hand to her ample bosom; a gesture that implied that she was the only one they need listen to. 'I was thinking we might begin by telling you about the prominent members of our family'

  Brunhilde picked up her cup of tea, sniffed it curiously and then took a large gulp.

  'Oh, mind that!' Daisy exclaimed. 'It's very ho-!'

  There was an explosion of tea across the table as Brunhilde spat out the burning liquid, spattering some of it over Eunice, who was unfortunate enough to be sitting opposite her. A maid, who had been standing unobtrusively in a corner, scurried forward to clean up the mess. Brunhilde wiped her mouth with her sleeve and glared furiously at the offending cup. Elizabeth cast a concerned glance towards her sister but did not move. Eunice let the maid finish and then waved her away. She examined her dress and checked her makeup and decided both were still in a fit state for them to carry on with the proceedings.

  'Yes, perhaps we should start instead with some simple dining etiquette…' she muttered stiffly.

  'Perhaps they could tell us about their world first,' Daisy suggested. 'We could-'

  'All in good time, dear.' Eunice put a heavily ringed hand on her niece's knee. 'All in good time.'

  And so Eunice launched into a tedious lecture about how to behave at the Modern Dinner Table. Daisy sat fuming with impatience. These two women were from another century; there was so much that could be learned from them, and yet this biddy wanted to talk about which fork to use for your salad. Any time Daisy tried to interject, Eunice either cut her off or just ignored her completely. The old bag was intolerant of anyone interrupting while she was listening to the sound of her own voice.

  '… and of course, one should never put one's elbows on the table-'

  'Is this a God-fearing house?' Elizabeth asked suddenly.

  There was complete silence for a moment as Eunice sat with her mouth open. These were the first words heard uttered by either of the ancient women. Brunhilde leaned forward and slurped some tea. She dug her fingers into the sugar bowl and added several more lumps.

  'Y-yes, of course.' Eunice gave a faltering smile. 'Why, we have helped finance the building of three churches in Ireland in the last ten years alone! We have our own chapel on the grounds of the estate.'

  Elizabeth seemed to be digesting this, looking towards the window with a distant expression. Eunice was about to expand on the family's religious credentials, but was interrupted again.

  'Do women have power in this new world?' Elizabeth enquired, turning to hold Eunice's gaze.

  The question was gentle but insistent, and Daisy noted that the woman had a smooth, sonorous voice.

  Eunice struggled to answer.

  'Well, there is Queen Victoria, of course, although she must abide by the will of the government. Women are responsible for the home, and… and… and play a great part in the culture of-'

  'Under British law, women are controlled by their husbands or fathers,' Daisy said sharply. 'We cannot own businesses or property, we cannot vote and we can play no part in government. But we're working on changing that.'

  Elizabeth nodded her thanks but said no more. Brunhilde continued to slurp her tea. Eunice struggled to find a subject on which she could lecture her uninformed ancestors.

  'There are many women's movements-' she began.

  'Are you ruled by this Queen… Victoria?' Elizabeth spoke again.

  'Edgar has a poor view of the Queen unfortunately' Eunice said apologetically. 'He knows her personally, you see, and we are distantly related… His position is that we are Irish first and British second, but above all we are Wildensterns-'

  'And the British Empire can go hang if it thinks it can tell him what to do,' Daisy finished for her.

  Elizabeth nodded approvingly.

  'And what rank will Hugo hold now, in this family?'

  Daisy hesitated. They needed to be careful here. It would be very easy to say the wrong thing.

  'Let me explain,' Eunice said, smiling. 'There has never been a situation like this… ever. So there are still a lot of matters to be worked out. You can be assured that you are welcome here… but… well, the family has a firm structure and it is governed by some very strict rules. Edgar… the Duke is the Patriarch and will be until his death. He will decide what Hugo's position shall be.'

  'And his will is never questioned?' Elizabeth asked innocently.

  'By the time one becomes Patriarch,' Eunice told her, 'one will have earned the right to govern. Of course, I'm forgetting – you didn't have the Rules of Ascension in your day, did you?'

  'Aunt Eunice…' Daisy said softly.

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and shook her head, leaning forward slightly.

  'Ah,' said Eunice. 'Then I shall enlighten you, so that you can understand our… special arrangements.'

  'Aunt Eunice…'

  'It's all right, Daisy dear. I have this well in hand,' Eunice assured her. She sat up straighter and readied herself for her recital. 'Now, Elizabeth, Brunhilde. With the intention of encouraging the qualities of aggression, strength and ambition, the family will sanction the act of assassination of one family member by another, under eight strict conditions – the Rules of Ascension. They are as follows:

  'Number One: The Act of Aggression must be committed by the Aggressor himself and not by any agent or servant.

  'Number Two: The Act must only be committed against a man over the age of sixteen who holds a superior rank in the family to the Aggressor.

  'Number Three: The Act must only be committed for the purpose of advancing one's position and not out of spite, or because of insult or offence given, or to satisfy a need for revenge for an insult or injury given to a third party.

  'Number Four: All efforts should be made to avoid the deaths of servants while committing the Act. Good servants are hard to find.

  'Number Five: The Target of the Aggression can use any and all means to defend themselves, and is under an obligation to do so for the good of the family.

  'Number Six: Retribution against the Aggressor can only be carried out after the Act has been committed. Should the Aggressor fail in his attempt, and subsequently escape to remain at large for a full day, only the Target of the Aggression and no other person will be permitted to take Retribution.

  'Number Seven: No Act of Aggression or Retribution must be witnessed or reported by any member of the public. All family matters must be kept confidential.

  'Number Eight: Any bodies resulting from the Act must be given a proper burial in a cemetery, crypt, catacomb or funeral pyre approved by the family'

  Eunice nodded and sat back, looking pleased with herself. Daisy was covering her face with her hand. Roberto had been made to recite these rules from the age of ten. This family was insane, and she had been mad to marry into it.

  'And rank in the family is decided by bloodline?' Elizabeth pressed her tutor.

  'Of course,' Eunice said. 'So Roberto is the Heir, as the Duke's eldest remaining son. Then Nathaniel and after him Gideon, as Edgar's eldest remaining brother.'

  'I'm curious to know then,' Elizabeth went on, 'why the Duke allowed Hugo to live?'

 
; 'Oh, heavens,' Eunice tittered, her bosom quivering with incredulous mirth. 'You've only just come back from the dead – we can't go sending you off again! It's not like your brother's a threat, now, is he?' Her laughter faltered. 'Is he?'

  Elizabeth gave her a demure smile.

  'My brother is just happy to be alive, as are we. We are born again, through some miracle of God, and our efforts will be devoted to praising Him, living worthwhile lives with this new time He has given us, and praying for the awakening of our brother Brutus. You have nothing to fear from us.'

  'Of course not, dear,' Eunice sighed, patting the woman's knee.

  But Daisy listened to Elizabeth's words with a faint feeling of dread. The woman had been very deliberate in her questioning for somebody who just wanted to live a 'worthwhile life'. They all lapsed into an awkward silence, and as Brunhilde started to shove sugar lumps into her mouth, Eunice suggested they have some more tea.

  *

  With everything that had been going on, Nate had neglected his investigation into Marcus's death and he had made up his mind to get to the bottom of it all. There was something about the idea of rebels killing his brother in order to attack his funeral that just didn't ring true. The rebels had never shown that kind of cunning in the past. They tended more towards near-suicidal assaults on public buildings, goods shipments or the occasional army barracks.

  The one thing that they all had in common was that they invariably failed – but they had always acted with a rough kind of honour too. There was no honour in blowing up a funeral, and it was bound to cost them much support in a country where the dead were often held in higher regard than the living. If the family really was dealing with the Fenians, then these were a new breed, and Slattery was obviously no closer to tracking down the culprits.

  Nate was certain that the answers lay in the Mourne Mountains, where Marcus was supposed to have fallen. He would go and see the spot for himself – climb the same route up the cliff if needs be – and question everyone who was there.

  But first he was determined to find out just why his brother had left the mysterious message about finding Babylon. If Marcus had wanted to leave a clue to the truth about his death, he could have provided something more helpful.

  Marcus's rooms took up a whole floor of the tower, and since Roberto and Daisy had not asked to move into them, they had not yet been disturbed. Nate had already been up here since the funeral, but if there were any clues to find, so far they had eluded him. He paused before the door into the living room and then opened it hesitantly.

  Marcus had style; everything from the carpet to the plasterwork on the ceiling was evidence of his modern but refined tastes. There were numerous artefacts from his travels too: Japanese swords and armour, Chinese fans, Russian furs and even a Mongolian saddle. There was a clutter of alien objects that Nate had always delighted in. He ran his fingers over a buffalo hide from the North American plains that hung on the wall. Marcus had bagged the animal himself – he had been a keen hunter. Nate had always been more fascinated by engimals than flesh-and-blood animals. And there was far more to be gained by capturing them alive.

  He had asked Winters to join him. The manservant was being transferred to the service of one of Nate's cousins, but Nate had pulled rank so that the man could help him in his search. There was no dust anywhere; the rooms were still immaculately clean – the servants kept them that way – and yet they felt stale without his brother's presence.

  He was surprised to find Marcus's climbing gear had been brought back and placed in its cupboard – it had not come back with the corpse and Warburton had told him it had been destroyed. It was slightly surreal to see all the ropes and bags of pitons hanging up, knowing Marcus had died using them. Nate examined everything carefully. It all looked intact, but he was struck by the fact that the crampons were still attached to the boots. In fact, he wondered why the ill-fated equipment had been brought back at all, seeing that everyone seemed so eager to brush the whole affair under the carpet.

  Over the next two hours they slowly and methodically pulled the place apart. Winters was uneasy about disturbing his master's things, but Nate was merciless. They pulled out furniture, overturned mattresses, emptied wardrobes, cupboards and drawers, lifted up rugs and pulled back the edges of the carpets. All the secret panels were opened and examined, the entrances to secret passages exposed and the passageways searched. Nate went through Marcus's papers, reading the most significant and putting the rest aside for closer analysis later. By the time they were finished, his older brother's home looked as if it had been hit by a typhoon; and they were no closer to solving the mystery of Babylon. Nate flopped into an armchair and let out a frustrated curse, rubbing his face with his hands.

  'What the hell did he mean?' he burst out. 'What the bloody hell has Babylon got to do with anything? What kind of stupid… stupid…? Oh, for God's sake!'

  He threw up his hands in exasperation and then sat in silence for a few minutes, playing with the rings on his fingers. Winters stood nearby, his face carefully neutral. Nate's gaze fell on the cupboard that held Marcus's climbing gear. He wondered about the crampons on the boots again.

  'Winters,' Nate said at last, 'when you went with Marcus to the Mournes, you said you didn't climb with him?'

  'That's correct, sir.'

  'But you prepared his gear, yes? He never let anyone else do it.'

  'Of course, sir.'

  'You're lying to me, Winters,' Nate hissed, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth, his fingers gripping the armchair. 'And I've had enough of everyone's lies. Now, you're going to tell me what Marcus was doing in the Mournes, or I promise you I will make your future a living hell.'

  'Sir! I assure you… I… I wouldn't…'

  The servant's composure was starting to crack, but whether it was out of loyalty to his dead master or fear of disobeying the Rules of Ascension, he was still holding back what he knew. Nate stood up and strode over to him.

  Overcome with a sudden anger, he grabbed the footman by his collar and shoved him back against the wall. 'Who packed up his climbing gear, Winters? There are crampons on the boots. Crampons are for climbing on ice! There's no ice in the Mournes at this time of year. Marcus wasn't climbing, so where the hell was he? What was he doing in the Mournes? Talk to me, man!'

  Winters folded visibly, his face a picture of resigned relief.

  'Master Marcus had come back to Ireland against the Duke's wishes, sir,' he said. 'The Duke felt that with the way things were with the civil unrest in the United States, it was no time to be taking a holiday. But Master Marcus was adamant; he… he was certain that the Duke's brother was formulating plans to get hold of the business and that he would have to remove Master Marcus himself, as well as yourself and Master Roberto from his path to succeed. Master Marcus decided that the Duke wasn't doing enough to stop him.'

  This did not surprise Nate in the least.

  'So if he was so concerned about an assassination attempt, why did he go gallivanting off to the mountains?' he asked again.

  'Master Marcus went to the Mournes to give himself an alibi,' Winters admitted quietly. 'He meant to come back to the house in secret, and assassinate the Duke's brother before himself, Master Roberto or you could be hurt.

  'I was to follow early the following morning in the coach and make it appear that I was travelling with Master Marcus. He would come back up to meet me on the road and arrive in the coach that morning, so it would appear as if he had been en route when Lord Wildenstern was killed.'

  Nate nodded to himself. Marcus was ranked above Gideon in the family, so the Rules of Ascension forbade him from killing his uncle in anything other than self-defence. But Marcus had not been prepared to wait for Gideon to hatch his plans and had taken matters into his own hands. And without the family's sanction, it would be straightforward murder, so he could not afford to be caught. Pretending he was out of the house would also mean that Gideon would be easier to catch off-guard.

 
; 'I reached the place where Master Marcus had told me to wait,' Winters went on. 'The coach driver and I waited for a whole day. It was terrible, sir; just waiting like that with no way of knowing what was happening. In the end I decided to continue to the house and pretend I had been sent there on an errand. Master Marcus's…'The footman's breath caught in his throat. 'Master Marcus's body had already been found… in one of the secret passageways. It was the Duke who ordered that his son's death should be covered up by saying it was a climbing accident. The witnesses were all arranged accordingly.'

  Nate released the manservant's collar and trudged back to his chair, slumping into it. So the family had done what it did so well; it had made an accident out of a killing. Gideon, possibly with the help of his sons, had beaten Marcus. Nate had known them all his life and found the idea of Marcus being outwitted by their buffoon of an uncle hard to stomach; Gideon and his sons were back-stabbing curs with no shortage of ambition, but they had little courage and more of an animal cunning than any real intelligence. They should not have been able to better Marcus. Still, anyone could get lucky.

  Nate rubbed his chin, overwhelmed by exhaustion. It seemed he had found the answer he was looking for and yet he was wholly unsatisfied. Why had Marcus spent his last words urging him to find Babylon? Nate was convinced there were still answers left to find. Then, when he was absolutely certain of Gideon's guilt, he would decide on how he would have his revenge.

  The ancestors joined the family for dinner that evening. Despite having the kind of appetite expected of someone in their late teens, Nathaniel had long ago learned not to eat everything that was put in front of him. There was a massive quantity and variety of food, and to try some of every dish would render a person obese in a matter of months. Each dish was served in a single bowl or platter placed along the middle of the enormous table and the servants then dealt out food to each diner. Apart from reasons of presentation, the shared dishes meant that it would be very difficult for any family member to poison one rival without putting half the family to death.