Ancient Appetites

by Oisin McGann

  As Roberto left the room, Nate faced the four remaining men.

  'If I did this thing, do you really think I'd carry it out with the one engimal that could identify me? I know a hundred ways of killing a man – including half a dozen that don't leave a trace – and you think I'd try and run my brother down with a velocycle? Do you think I'd leave a bloody note that linked me to some stupid bloody Fenians and risk everything I was trying to kill him for? And as for the letter… My God! Do you seriously think I'd hand on a note with that many spelling mistakes? Have you all lost your bloody minds?!'

  'Perhaps it was a rash act, perhaps you planned too hastily,' Edgar replied. 'Perhaps you hoped to make it look like an accident but when you realized you hadn't killed him, your nerve failed you and you fled back to the house. Perhaps you left the note to throw us off the trail and avoid the emotional repercussions from the family. Perhaps you faked the handwriting and spelling mistakes to make it look as if it were written by an uneducated hand. We do not know these things yet. And until we do, you will not leave this house.

  'Slattery tells me you ordered the release of the moneylender, Duffy.'

  Nate gave the bailiff a hostile look.

  'They beat the man to a pulp, Father.'

  'If they did so, then it was only because it was necessary' Edgar assured his son. He went on in a dispassionate tone, 'You see, Nathaniel, if you had simply attacked Roberto, the Rules of Ascension would apply to protect you. But when I hear that you have taken pity on a known rebel sympathizer, and then this letter is found at the scene of your brother's assault, I am forced to re-evaluate your position.' His voice was lower now, and grating with menace. 'For we know that there is a traitor in this house, and if I find out that the betrayal is yours, I promise you the most dire consequences.'

  He paused to let those words sink in.

  'That is all. You are dismissed.'

  The whole room waited in silence for Nathaniel to leave. He gritted his teeth and stood there for as long as he could bear his father's piercing stare.

  'It wasn't me,' he managed at last – but it sounded weak and insubstantial after his father's declaration.

  He spun on his heel and left the room, trying not to show his hurt. He had taken enough from the old man – from the whole family. His face burned with rage and shame, his hands were clenched into fists. The gas-lamps were turned down in the empty corridors, only every one in four glowing; he took the dimly lit stairs all the way up to his floor, savouring the darkness and quiet, letting his anger smoulder away as he worked his legs up one staircase after another. The exercise helped, and his feelings had subsided by the time he reached his rooms. He was able to think more clearly.

  There was one good thing to come out of this at least: it was unlikely that Edgar would hand his business on to a suspected traitor, so it looked like his move to America was off. Now all he had to do was plan his departure from this damned house.

  He threw off his dressing gown and climbed into bed, stacking the pillows up behind him so that he could sit up – there was no chance of him getting back to sleep. Wrapping the blankets around him, he lifted the cap on the speaking tube and asked Clancy – who he knew would still be awake – to bring him some cocoa and two slices of hot buttered toast.

  Once his late-night snack was delivered on its tray, Nate sank into a miserable mood, brooding about how unbearable his life had become. He had intended to maintain this sulk until he drifted off to sleep, but it turned out that he was to be denied even this pleasure. There was a knock on the living-room door, and he knew at once that it wasn't Clancy.

  Muttering under his breath, he set the tray aside and climbed out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown once more. He strode out into the living room and disarmed the booby traps on the hall door by pressing a series of levers on the underside of his writing desk. Then he grabbed the door handle and swung the door open, ready to unleash a string of abuse at whoever was standing on the other side.

  Instead, he found himself speechless. Hunched in a thoroughly despondent posture in the hallway was his sister-in-law, dressed in one of Roberto's old suits. Nate's mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Daisy didn't wait to be invited in. Brushing past him, she stumbled into the living room, flung herself on the sofa and burst into tears.

  Deciding that everyone in the house had gone completely off their rockers, Nathaniel sighed, closed the door and went and sat down beside her, looking at her in bemusement. Unsure of what to do to comfort her, he thought it best to get straight to the point.

  'So what's wrong?' he enquired.

  'Roberto's having an affair!' Daisy cried.

  'Ah. I see.'

  'No, you don't!' she sobbed. 'He's in love with another man! I saw them kissing!'

  Nate sighed again. He had known about Roberto's tastes for a few years now; since before the marriage. He had spent enough time in boarding school to meet boys with all sorts of strange hobbies so it didn't bother him much. Homosexuality could land you in prison, although it was unlikely anyone would try and prosecute a man of Roberto's power. But not only had he betrayed his wife; if word got out, she would face the worst kind of humiliation.

  'So who's the other man?' he asked.

  Daisy glared at him, feeling that she wasn't getting the comfort that was due to a woman in her situation.

  'Hennessy, the head groom,' she told him.

  'Hennessy? Really?' Nate gaped. 'A servant? You're sure it's love? Besides, Hennessy's a bit old, isn't he? I knew Berto like the company of older men, but I always assumed it was because Father hated him and he needed some kind of… foster father. Hennessy's a salt-of-the-earth type, but he's hardly the most handsome man in the world, is he?'

  'How should I know what he finds attractive?!' Daisy screeched at him. Pulling out a well-used handkerchief, she blew her nose. 'My husband's in love with a man! How should I know what he likes any more? I saw them kissing! It was the most awful thing. He's never kissed me like that. Never! I've tried to be a good wife – I tried so hard to do everything right. Men control every aspect of my life and now this! What can I do?'

  She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

  'How am I supposed to compete with a man for my husband's love?'

  Nate regarded her with sympathy, bunched up in her ill-fitting suit, damp dark ringlets of hair hanging from under her flat cap.

  'I don't know, Daisy. But you might well be wearing the right clothes for the job.'

  She stared at him blankly for a moment and then burst into sobs again. Not knowing what else to do, he handed her a fresh handkerchief. He felt stupid now for saying that. Clancy would never have said it. Clancy would have known what to do with this distraught woman. Nate considered calling him for advice, but thought the better of it. For Daisy's sake, the fewer people who knew about this the better.

  Instead, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. It seemed to be what she needed; she laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around his neck and stayed there until the sobs subsided. It was an extremely compromising position for a young man to be in with his sister-in-law at this time of night, but it didn't seem as if much else could go wrong, so he didn't care.

  When she had finally composed herself, she lifted her head and dabbed her eyes. There was a damp patch on his shoulder, but Nate said nothing. His mind was already on another track.

  'Where did you see them at it?' he asked, and realized too late that he was being insensitive. So be it.

  'In the forest on the south side of the hill,' she replied, heaving in a breath. 'I was following him again – that's why I'm wearing these clothes; I got the idea from Tatty.' She gave him a hard look. 'He met Hennessy on the road and gave him some money… and… and sent him on some job or other. I don't know what.'

  'Knowing Berto, he was probably sending money to help those people pay their rent and rebuild their houses,' Nate mused. 'You know, the ones Trom rolled over. Berto's been doing
that kind of thing for years – partly out of some misplaced sense of charity, but also because it's another way to have a dig at Father. I don't suppose you saw anyone else? Someone on a velocycle?'

  'No,' she said. 'Just bloody Hennessy and his bloody horse. I ran off when I saw them… saw them kiss… and came back through the hidden passageways, but I got lost. I've been wandering around in there for hours. Why?'

  'You do know Berto was attacked tonight, don't you?'

  'What?' Daisy was visibly shocked.

  'Someone ran over him with a velocycle. Everyone thinks it was me.'

  'And was it?' she asked bluntly.

  'What? No! Of course not!'

  She didn't spare him another word. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the door. As she threw it open and hurried out, Nathaniel went after her.

  'Put on a bloody dress before you go to him, for God's sake,' he called. 'He'll have a fit if he sees you like that!' He slammed the door and headed back to his bedroom, adding to himself, 'And if he doesn't, maybe you should dress like that from now on.'

  XXV

  THE WONDER OF INTELLIGENT PARTICLES

  Nate started the morning with another madcap sparring match with Hugo. The old man was growing stronger and quicker by the day, but still seemed unable to grasp even the simplest rules of modern fencing. Nate came away from the bout with a bruised arm and sore shins, but strangely elated by the sheer excitement of fighting such an unpredictable opponent. The frantic combat stopped him from thinking about his situation.

  He was supposed to go and see Silas after training, but he decided that if he was to be branded a traitor, he was no longer under any obligation to obey his father's wishes. It had been a while since he had seen Gerald, so he made for the laboratory instead. Hugo went with him to check on Brutus's progress.

  Gerald was working on his toast-maker, which was sitting quietly as he poked around inside one of its slots with a screwdriver. The ancient giant was still showing no sign of waking up. Hugo knelt by his brother's bedside and, clasping his hands, lowered his head to pray.

  'That's being very well behaved,' Nate said, nodding at the toast-maker. 'You get it trained then?'

  Gerald shook his head but didn't look round. He got like this when he was absorbed in his work – as if the outside world no longer existed for him. Lifting his head at last, he looked at Nate with a feverish excitement in his eyes. Nate noticed the weariness in his face and wondered if his cousin was sleeping at all these days.

  'I've made some incredible discoveries,' Gerald said softly, as if he didn't want Hugo to hear. 'Incredible. Look here.'

  He gestured towards a microscope and Nate looked down through the eyepiece. Through the lens, he could see some kind of blood cells.

  'What am I looking at?' he asked.

  'Some of Hugo's blood,' Gerald whispered, looking warily over at the old man kneeling by the bed on the other side of the room. 'Now watch.'

  He lifted the top slide and used a needle to deposit a drop of something on the bottom piece of glass, then he replaced the slide.

  'Bacteria,' Gerald said. 'Watch it attack the blood.'

  Nate kept looking and saw the small, spiky cells of the bacteria attach themselves to the concave blood cells. They didn't last long. A kind of haze spread out from the blood cells and coated the bacteria. Nate watched as the attacking organism was eaten up by the strange mist. In less than a minute the bacteria had been destroyed.

  'I can't see properly,' he complained. 'What's the misty stuff? Can you make the magnification stronger?'

  'It's on its strongest setting,' Gerald told him. 'That's all I've been able to see too, so far. But I've done other tests. This haze, whatever it is, reacts differently to different threats. And that's not all; it doesn't just destroy – it can rebuild. I think it may even have intelligence.'

  He checked again to see that Hugo was not listening.

  'We've never been able to observe aurea sanitas at work, other than seeing the results of the accelerated healing our family enjoys, but I think this is it. This mist in Hugo's blood is a cloud of particles that's thick enough to be seen. We don't have so many, so we've never been able to spot them before. Hugo and his brother and sisters are loaded with the little beggars.'

  'Particles smaller than cells?' Nate asked incredulously. 'Intelligent particles? Is that possible?'

  'Our ancestors rebuilt their bodies from scant remains,' Gerald replied, with something like awe in his voice. 'Something kept the seeds of life in them even after their corpses were mummified. Their brains were dead, but some part of them remembered… like drawing the plans of a machine or a building, so their physical forms could be recovered. Their own memories are not complete; but even so, the fact that Hugo and his siblings can move and speak after six hundred years… I think it was these particles. Something about the quality of gold acts as a stimulus or fuel for them, and using it, they have the power to regenerate life, almost to the point of granting immortality. But I don't think they are a part of life. I think we're looking at mathaumaturgy here – once upon a time, someone actually made these things and put them in our blood. I think this is evidence of a science beyond our understanding.

  'You see, this isn't the only place I've seen this kind of healing action,' he went on. 'We've always wondered how the engimals healed. After all, they're made of inorganic compounds – metals and other elements. They have no lymph or circulatory systems, no capacity for producing new cells because they have none to begin with. And yet they can heal. I think they use the same mathaumaturgical particles to rebuild themselves.

  'Just on a whim, I decided to see if these marvellous little mites were interchangeable; whether I could create a link with an engimal using the particles in my blood. That's the whole basis of my theory, after all – that they were created to serve. Normally it takes days or even weeks of work to bond with an engimal. I put a single drop of my blood in the toast-maker's drinking water and all of a sudden it obeyed my every word! Do you understand what I'm telling you?'

  Nate understood completely, but he wasn't sure he believed it. Gerald giggled, as if he were on the edge of hysterics.

  'Once a link is created with a master, they appear to be instantly obedient. Forget all this nonsense about breaking them in – this can override all that. And it proves once and for all that they were designed and built to serve by a race whose science was far beyond our own. I'll have to carry out experiments on some of our other engimals to get a better idea of how it all works.

  'Imagine if we could find some way to communicate with them, Nate – perhaps with mathematics or some long-lost language. Imagine that!' He ran his hand through his dark mop of lank hair. 'I must write to Charles Darwin and involve him in this. I think these particles are the key to discovering who was responsible for creating the engimals. Darwin's theories on evolution are only the tip of the iceberg; if I'm right, Hugo and the others could be proof that-'

  'We are proof of God's mercy!' Hugo's voice cut in.

  They turned to find him standing right behind them.

  'God returned us to this world to do His Work,' he announced.

  'Yeeesss, that's all very well,' Gerald said carefully. 'But I'm interested in how He pulled it off.'

  'He is the Almighty God! His Will shall be done.'

  'Hugo,' Gerald began, 'a lot of things have changed since you've been away-'

  'Gerald, I don't think this is the time,' Nate muttered.

  'Modern science has debunked many of the old superstitions,' Gerald continued, ignoring his cousin. 'And while I would not be one to deny the existence of God – I think the whole question of God is a philosophical, rather than a scientific one – our perception of the world has come a long way. Mankind has chosen to rely on reason rather than faith, and it's about time too-'

  'Gerald,' Nate hissed, his eyes fixed on Hugo's face.

  'Frankly we've developed somewhat since we came down from the trees and I'm eager that we keep going. And
to do that, we must use our brains.'

  'What do you mean, "came down from the trees"?' Hugo asked.

  'The latest theories suggest we are descended from apes,' Gerald replied.

  'Apes? What are apes?'

  'Like monkeys.'

  Hugo looked as if he had just been struck. Gerald helpfully pointed to a drawing on the wall next to him, which showed the progression of man's development from crouching ape, with his long arms and jutting brow, through his various stages to the civilized, upright posture of modern man.

  'What is this heresy?' Hugo exclaimed. 'There are no animals in my family! I was made by God in His image!'

  'Well, there lies the rub. We've no idea where God came from,' Gerald replied, looking fondly at the drawing. 'Who's to say He didn't start off as a monkey?'

  The back of Hugo's hand caught him across the face at startling speed; Gerald's head whipped to the side and he was thrown to the floor by the force of the blow. Jumping to his feet, he clenched one fist, the other hand clutching his burning cheek. He looked at Hugo with a cold rage.

  'Out of respect for your advanced years, I'm going to let that go,' he said in a tense voice. 'But if you ever touch me again-'

  'Go back to your studies, boy,' Hugo snorted. 'I don't converse with animals.'

  And with that, he left. Gerald swore softly to himself and sat down on a stool, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

  'He nearly took my bloody head off,' he said. 'The old bugger's stronger than he looks.'

  'And he's getting stronger all the time,' Nate added.

  'Intelligent particles,' Gerald observed with admiration, rubbing his swelling cheek. 'When I figure out what's making him tick, I'm going to change the world.'

  Nate hung around the laboratory for a while longer, but Gerald was too intent on his work to pay him much attention. Nathaniel had no desire to face the rest of his family in the drawing room or out on the grounds, certain that the gossipmongers would already be spreading the suspicions of his treachery to the rest of the house. So he sought out the only other person he knew would never believe the lies, and who might go some way towards cheering him up.