Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘It will have to wait until the morning, there is much to be said and important guests,’ Ebenezer Wolf went on. ‘Come back first thing and it will be done.’

  ‘If it is beyond midnight then know my tongue shall wag. By breakfast you will be out on the street and disgrace shall be a mantle on your shoulders,’ Walpole whispered in Ebenezer’s ear.

  ‘Then we shall go to the banquet together,’ Ebenezer said with a sudden and unexpected change of heart. ‘I know what shall be done. Wait a moment until I get my speech from my desk. I shall have a police escort to the banquet – that shall protect me from any foul play. I shall be like Hamlet’s father and this place shall be my Ellsinore. The law shall not be delayed and the insolence of office will soon be gone … Who would my burden bear? ’

  ‘Very well, my Lord Mayor,’ Walpole joked sarcastically, not knowing what Ebenezer Wolf had meant. ‘I shall even let you take my arm, right regal-like. Mister Grimm and Mister Grendel shall lead the way and I will introduce you to the Honourable Bardolph – he has all the papers. I’m sure you could be cajoled to sign them at the end of dinner?’ Walpole said amiably as if he spoke to a madman.

  Ebenezer Wolf cast a glance to the wardrobe and smiled as if to say goodbye. He reached to the desk and folded the parchment on which his speech was written into the shape of a long envelope. He looked up and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Turning, he looked once more towards where his old friend was hiding.

  ‘Oh juice of cursed hebenon – We have no friend but resolution and the briefest end,’ Ebenezer Wolf whispered as he walked away.

  Walpole took Ebenezer Wolf by the arm and led him from the room so he could not escape.

  Charity listened for the door to close and the treading footsteps to fade. Sliding the catch of the wardrobe, he slipped back into the world. He felt in his pocket for the slice of hexagenamite and then, when he realised that he had left it upon the desk, looked there. It had gone.

  ‘Ebenezer …’ he said, realising his friend had taken it. ‘He cannot do this …’

  Charity ran from the room to find him, but as he turned the corner of the passageway he realised he could go no further. He would be arrested – the Prince Regent would be lost. It would be his life for that of Ebenezer Wolf. All would be taken away, he thought as he gripped his hands into tight fists.

  From the great hall he heard the clanging of the dinner gong. It clattered through the empty corridors of the town hall calling all to silence. Charity ran along the corridor. He knew the

  place well. To his left would be a door that would lead to the balcony above the great hall, and there would be shadows there in which he could hide and look upon the gathering below. In the darkness, he would work out a plan. Something in his heart told him that Ebenezer Wolf would eat the hexogenamite so that he could not be blackmailed.

  Charity knew that if Walpole had the secrets of another’s heart then it would not be long before he would tell the world. As soon as Ebenezer Wolf had signed the document and was no further use, Walpole would let slip some casual words and the secret would be out.

  He remembered Ebenezer’s sudden change of heart and the words he had said: ‘I know what shall be done.’

  Charity slipped through the door and into the shadows of the balcony. The great hall was filled with cigar smoke that spiralled in wafts of choking fumes from below. The dim glow of the candles formed crescents of light that surrounded each table. They were like islands set in a dark, impenetrable sea. On each chair, like decorated seals, sat the wise and mighty of the town. Every man waited to be fed as an army of skivvies fussed to fulfil their desires.

  Charity didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could speak to Ebenezer without being seen by Walpole. The Mayor sat at the high table overlooking the hall. Below him on the table next to the door were Walpole and Bardolph. The hall was filled with a hundred men.

  Around each table the hubbub of conversation grew louder. Walpole looked about him uneasily. Grimm and Grendel sat with Bardolph in silence. Delivered to each table was a plate of goose, its long singed neck dangling over the side. One such steaming plate was processed across the dining hall and presented to Ebenezer like an offering. As each table took their goose, he nodded for all to commence the banquet.

  Every man ate hungrily. Charity knew each one by name. They were the fat officials who did more for themselves than the people they served, the bankers and politicians who thought they owned the borough. Some were the idle rich who knew not the hunger of the streets around them. Charity knew if he were to approach Ebenezer he would be seen and arrested. Though his heart was broken he knew he had to stop Ebenezer from taking the hexogenamite.

  Ebenezer in his ermine cloak ate in silence, his eyes fixed ahead as if he stared on a distant land. Every now and then he nodded as the man next to him spoke eagerly at his side. Ebenezer didn’t reply. Charity watched as his thoughts tore his heart. He knew that to do anything would cost his life.

  Suddenly Ebenezer got to his feet and banged upon the table.

  ‘This is my last speech,’ he said loudly, smiling at the surprised gathering. ‘For that I am grateful. I have lived a lie and I was to be exposed – by the Inspector of Police and his companions.’

  Not a man spoke as Walpole got to his feet. ‘The Mayor is mad,’ he shouted.

  ‘Let him speak,’ said a man in a blood-red fez hat.

  ‘And that I shall,’ said Ebenezer as he went on. ‘We are caught in a time when good men are accused of bad things and bad men prosper. I was to be blackmailed –’

  ‘Lies!’ shouted Walpole as he vaulted onto the small dais and took hold of Ebenezer and tried to force him to the ground.

  ‘Jack Charity is not dead and was framed for the murders. The killers are in your midst,’ Ebenezer said as he pulled his hand from his pocket. As Walpole strangled him Ebenezer Wolf swallowed a chunk of hexogenamite.

  ‘No!’ screamed Walpole as he pushed Ebenezer away.

  ‘If you have tears – prepare to shed them now – for death

  will have its day.’ Ebenezer clutched his stomach and gripped the walls with his stiffening fingers.

  The crowd shrank back in silence as the swirling cigar smoke wisped to the high vaulted ceiling like a blue smog.

  ‘Charity is innocent. May these be my last words,’ Ebenezer said as he started to foam as the mouth. ‘What I have done in my life should not be held against me. Walpole would have blackmailed me to say that Charity is dead when he is not – he lives!’

  ‘Mad!’ shouted Walpole as Ebenezer Wolf began to writhe on the floor. ‘Mad and a liar!’

  Without thinking, Charity leapt from the balcony to the dais below. Walpole turned. Charity pushed him from the stage to the floor and into the crowd of men. Grimm and Grendel jumped to their feet as Bardolph cowered behind them. Grendel drew a pistol from his coat and took aim.

  ‘No!’ shouted Walpole. ‘Not here!’

  ‘Will not one of you help this man?’ Charity screamed as he grabbed hold of Ebenezer and tried to prise open his mouth and stop him swallowing more of the explosive.

  ‘Too late, dear Charity,’ Ebenezer sobbed as he coughed. ‘Forgive me for this – I could not bear the shame. I know the judge of all will not condemn me as these men have in their hearts.’

  ‘No, Ebenezer … It shouldn’t be this way,’ Charity replied as he cradled the man in his arms.

  ‘Stand aside,’ Ebenezer whispered. ‘You know what is to come.’

  Ebenezer Wolf gripped his stomach as the hexagenamite bubbled in his guts. Charity dived to the floor, looking for a way of escape.

  ‘You’re mine now!’ screamed Walpole as he snatched the gun from Mister Grimm and took aim.

  It was as he was about to fire that Ebenezer Wolf exploded. There was a blinding flash of light as a purple fire instantly consumed him. Walpole was blown from his feet. A ball of silver cloud then mushroomed to the ceiling filling the room with dense smog. A shimmering grey
dust blew about the hall and fell like snow as Ebenezer’s ashes were scattered by the explosion.

  Charity seized his chance. He leapt from table to table as he ran towards the window at the far end of the room. Goose and port wine were scattered across the floor. The man in the fez reached out to stop him. Charity, seeing the shadow of the man in the mist, kicked a stuffed goose from its plate. The half-eaten bird hit the man in the face, knocking him to the floor.

  ‘Stop him!’ shouted Walpole as Grimm and Grendel set off in pursuit.

  Walpole took aim with the pistol and fired into the mayhem. The bullets shot over Charity’s head and through the window. One shot hit the stained glass figure of Alderman Periwinkle between the eyes. The crowd scattered. Grendel leapt from across the room like a demented deer as Grimm pushed through the screaming crowds of men who now clung to the tables for fear of being shot.

  Walpole fired wildly until he emptied the chamber of bullets. In desperation he threw the pistol as hard as he could. Charity sprang from the final table towards the window. Covering his head with his arms, he dived through the stained glass. The portrait of Alderman Periwinkle crumbled as Charity burst into the night.

  ‘Stop him!’ Walpole screamed hopelessly as Charity vanished.

  Landing on the sloping grass, Charity jumped to his feet. He knew he would have to run, and that nowhere would be safe. Walpole would have his men at the Golden Kipper before he could make it there.

  Jumping the railings of the town hall, he ran towards King Street. Charity knew he would be safe with Mister Quadlibett. He looked behind to the dark shadows and slowed to a walking pace. The streets were damp and empty. He pushed his hands deep inside his coat and shrugged his shoulders to shake the chill from himself. He sighed, knowing his friend was dead and he was responsible. There was much about working for the Bureau of Antiquities that he hated.

  As he turned into the long alleyway from King Street to the Market the enfolding darkness pressed in against him. He stopped for a moment and listened to see if he was being followed.

  ‘Don’t turn around,’ a calm, heavy voice said as Charity felt the tip of a sharp blade press into his back. ‘The boy for the diamonds – that is what we want. He is well – but if we don’t have the Ghost Diamonds at midnight then we’ll feed him hexogenamite and give what’s left of him to the fish.’

  ‘How do you know I have them?’ Charity asked.

  ‘Mariah Mundi – he talked. We know everything,’ the man replied as he pressed the knife deeper into Charity’s back. ‘The graveyard, midnight. Come alone. The church door will be open … You have four hours. See to it you bring the diamonds.’ His voice was a stern and urgent whisper.

  ‘If you kill him then I will track you down and take your life in return for his,’ Charity said bitterly.

  He felt the blade move from his back. He turned. The man had vanished. Darkness was all around him.

  [ 26 ]

  Skull and Bones

  CHARITY took the longest route he could find to Mister Quadlibett’s shop in the Market vaults. Walking through the wet lanes, he stopped at every corner and waited to see if he was being followed. It was a surprise that there were no Peelers out on the crowded streets. News of the explosion of the Mayor was being passed from man to man. Traders with handcarts spoke of it with every sale. The tale was augmented with every telling until it was said that half the council had died in the conflagration.

  Charity kept his face hidden with his scarf. He was covered in mud and his clothes were tattered from the tearing of the glass. He looked like a dirty, wet vagabond and was not out of place on such a dark night. He waited by the doors of the Emporium on Market Street. No one came this way, not after dark and not on such a night as this. They would stick to the East Bar with its chestnut vendors and beer carts.

  From the doorway he could see the entrance to the vaults. Charity expected it to be guarded by at least one of Walpole’s men, but from where he was he could see no one. A solitary gas lamp lighted the street. A thick, shimmering haze of rain fell constantly. Charity used his scarf to wipe the mud from his face as the water drenched him. He went several more yards and hid in the doorway of a derelict shop.

  Footsteps echoed suddenly down the street. They walked quickly and were definite in their purpose. Charity pushed himself back into the deepest recess of the shadows. He held his breath for fear of being heard. With one hand he groped for the pistol in his pocket and made ready to fire. He knew he could just shoot through the pocket.

  The footsteps got closer.

  ‘Captain Jack?’ asked a voice like that of a waiting beggar.

  ‘Titus Salt,’ replied Charity. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Seen it, seen it all … Bad things Jack, things you shouldn’t face alone,’ Titus replied.

  ‘You’ve done enough – helping me could get you hanged,’ Charity said as he stepped from the darkness and checked that Salt had not been followed.

  ‘I know what’s to come and I won’t be hanged. Never saw it all – but know enough that you need help,’ Titus said as he tried to smile.

  ‘Then whisper as we walk and tell me what you have seen,’ Charity said as he took Titus Salt by the arm and walked him down the dimly lit street to the doors of the Market Vaults.

  As they stepped inside Titus finished speaking. Soon they were at the door of Quadlibett’s Vendorium. Charity turned the handle and went in as if he was expected. Mister Quadlibett came out from behind the counter.

  ‘Am I to be wrapped in tape?’ he asked jokingly. ‘And Titus Salt, the keeper of monsters – I haven’t seen you in two years.’

  ‘Fish keep me busy, Mister Quadlibett. Finding enough for them to eat takes all my time,’ Titus replied.

  Captain Charity locked the door to the shop and pulled down the blind. Instinctively, Mister Quadlibett dimmed the light and ushered both men through the narrow doorway to the room where he lived.

  A warm fire burnt in the stove and as always the kettle rattled on the warming plate. Quadlibett nodded for them to sit by the fire as he got in his favourite chair and pulled the blanket over his knees.

  ‘For the first time in my life I know the cost of having someone close to my heart,’ Charity said with a broken voice. ‘They have Mariah, and in exchange they want the Ghost Diamonds. I have no choice. Midnight, at the old church by the castle. I should go alone.’

  ‘I insist I come with you – all I could see in my vision, Mister Quadlibett, was a creature with a metal skull that breathed fire. Consumed half the town. and I know in my heart it wanted to kill Jack …’

  ‘Then we shall all go and fight this beast together,’ Quadlibett replied excitedly.

  ‘No,’ Charity said. ‘I wouldn’t put you in danger. All I would ask you to do, Mister Quadlibett, is to meet the last train. I pray that the man I want to see will be upon it.’

  ‘And what of me?’ Titus Salt asked begrudgingly. ‘I’m not letting you go alone.’

  ‘Very well, but I cannot say you will be safe,’ Charity replied.

  ‘All will be well, all will be well,’ Titus said, the flickering of the candle casting a dark shadow across his face.

  ‘Do you have the parcel I left with you?’ Charity asked Mister Quadlibett.

  ‘Indeed,’ he said as he got from his chair and rummaged behind the casks stacked against the door to the tunnel. He returned to the fire clutching the Ghost Diamonds wrapped in the pillowcase. ‘I have to say that I did indeed look. Never have I seen such fine things – but there is something quite impious in their nature. It will be good for you to give them away, regardless of their value. The boy Mariah is worth every stone.’

  ‘If you give them to Bardolph then more men will chase the Ghost Diamonds and lives will be lost,’ Titus Salt muttered as he rubbed his hands in the heat of the flames. ‘Greed is a strange thing, it makes fools out of the wise and murderers from the faint of heart.’

  ‘That is why I thought they would be
best in the hands of the Bureau of Antiquities – at least they would never be seen again,’ Charity replied. ‘Now it is time for us to be about our business. Keep safe, Mister Quadlibett.’

  Charity wrapped his scarf around his neck and checked the bullets in the chamber of the pistol before slipping it back in his coat. He pulled up his collar and turned to leave.

  ‘One thing,’ Quadlibett said. ‘If all fails, I will look after Mariah as if he were my own.’

  Charity smiled and squeezed his hand.

  ‘We’ll see you again, Mister Quadlibett. I promise you that,’ Titus Salt whispered as they left the Vendorium.

  In the street outside the Market Vaults they heard the church clock strike eleven times. The rain had stopped, leaving the dark lanes sparkling as if crystals had been cast amongst coals. Titus Salt walked on ahead, his face to the wind that blew from the north. The town was deserted. It was eerie and silent. Titus stopped and let Charity walk ahead, each man taking his turn in checking to see if they were being followed. They turned the corner by the broken-down houses on to Rope Walk and passed by the charnel grounds.

  Charity could see the whirling arms of the windmill blades on the cliff edge. They creaked as they turned, rattling with every gust. He went ahead, keeping to the shadows, as Titus Salt followed on behind. Every ten paces he would stop and turn. Then, stepping from the shadows, he would skip three paces to make up the distance between himself and Charity.

  As they walked up the long hill the looming presence of the old church came into sight. At one end were the old ruins that stuck from the ground like the ribs of a long-dead animal. The lights of the houses on Paradise cast the shadow of bones against the walls. Facing them was the church and before it the graveyard.

  Charity and Titus slipped quietly over the wall and were quickly consumed by even darker shadows. They made their way through the tall stones and sepulchre tombs with their doors and engraved walls. The shadow of the great church made the pathway doubly dark. Around each stone were piles of damp leaves browned by death and stinking of rot.