“Anyway, Charles began to bring some of the finest artists and craftsmen to the house to do work. He spent enormous amounts getting the work done and he was very pleased when he saw the reaction of guests he had over. Everyone marvelled at the house and word spread far and wide. People began to come from all over Britain to see the famous house.
“At first Charles was delighted about this, but very soon he began to see that others were copying what he had done and the same people he’d hired were now doing similar work for anyone who could pay them.
“At this time, tiles and mosaics came very much into fashion and there were two Italian brothers, the Pozzovivo’s from Florence, who were renowned as the best in the world. Charles commissioned them to do a big job on the entrance hall of the house.
“When the job was finished it was a work of sublime beauty and Charles was very pleased with it. Things turned ugly however, when he told the brothers that they were not to make anything like it for anyone else. The brothers said they could not do this, that they had to do what their customers asked for.
“Charles grew furious with them and had his guards hold them down while he hacked off their fingers with his sword. In this way he ensured that no one would ever be able to get work of the same quality ever again.
“Monstrous!” James exclaimed. He’d never heard of such a thing being done and the very idea was barbaric to him. Fredrick laughed at the reaction of the Alderman.
“You can see the result of the brother’s labours in the main hall to this day, and even the scratches in the fireplace where his sword struck their fingers off!”
“Fredrick!” Lady Stapleton exclaimed and then looking at James said, “I’m sorry for my brother's love for storytelling about such horrible things!”
“That’s quite alright,” James said, “I’ve been through some pretty rough times myself and this is not the worst I have ever heard.” Or seen, he thought.
“I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” Fredrick protested.
“I think that's enough for one night,” Stapleton said standing up, “We don’t want to give everyone nightmares. You can tell the rest of the story tomorrow evening after dinner.”
Chapter 13
Tam Grady shuffled home along Winetavern Street after a night of drinking. His body was starting to ache again as the effects of the alcohol wore off. A few days previous, he’d been on the receiving end of one of the blacksmith’s foul moods and had spent the day after recovering in bed. That was where he longed to be right now and he wished he’d been drinking closer to home so he wouldn’t have to endure this walk. This was a feeling he had many nights on his way home. He did not like the taverns near his home all that much and found the excitement and fun much better the closer a tavern was to the river. As such, it was rare that he was not down in this area when drinking was his goal.
Crossing the road, he entered Angel Alley to take a shortcut to Back Lane. As he entered the short alley however, he felt sure he heard someone say his name. He looked around but saw no one. He backtracked a step so as to see out onto the street he’d just left but again there was no sign of life. He stood and listened a moment but nothing more greeted his ears so he started walking again.
Halfway down the lane there was no doubt of it. A rough voice whispered ‘Tam!’ He stopped again and looked up at the windows along the lane, each one shut and no face or movement in them. It hadn’t sounded like it came from above him but he wondered were the narrow alley and the walls playing tricks on him.
“Someone there?” he asked in a low voice. As Tam listened for a reply, he began to hear a kind of scratching noise, like a cat’s claws on wood. He took a few steps towards the noise scanning for the source. He wasn’t frightened, Tam was not the kind of man to back away from a fight (hence his current bodily state), but he was feeling a little wary of his surroundings.
“What’s that noise?” he said into the darkness.
“Taaammmmmm.” The low whisper was eerie in the dim alley and a nervous rush ran through Tam. Still he could not tell where the voice had come from.
“Come out and show yourself; stop this messing around,” he said.
The scratching noise started again only now he could tell he was closer to it than before. He took another couple of small steps. The noise went on and he was drawing nearer all the time. Then he saw a wooden barrel beside a pillar that stood out from the wall a little. He’d needed to be this close to see it.
Tam cocked an ear and was sure this was where the noise was coming from. The noise came to a halt but he didn’t care, he knew where it was coming from now. Who the hell could be in there, he wondered. What joker would play a trick on him like this? His mind ran through the faces of the men he’d been out with tonight and he tried to place one of them playing like this.
Creeping forward as quietly as he could, Tam got ready to pull the lid off the barrel and land a playful blow on his tormentor’s surprised head. He was so close now; one more step would do it. He looked at the ground to make sure his footing was sound and unlikely to alert the occupant of the barrel to his proximity. He took the last step. Sliding two fingers under the rim of the lid, he readied himself for the moment to pull it off.
He never got the chance.
The lid flew off and fell to the ground and a red snarling face appeared out from the depths, followed by a shapeless body all clad in black. A flicker of moonlight on the steel was all Tam saw before he felt the knife enter his throat with massive force. What he did not feel was that he was hit so hard that it came through the back of his neck as well.
Tam fell back and stumbled the last few feet to the cold brick wall behind him. The creature leaped up out of the barrel and landed silently before him. It was a movement Tam had never seen the like of before.
“Don’t be scared, Tam,” the hissing voice said and the figure approached him. “You should be honoured. You are the first of many. You will be famous after this night.”
Tam tried to say something but he found no power to speak. He could feel the life draining from him. His attacker reached up and took hold of the knife in Tam’s throat. Tam tried to resist but there was no strength going to his arms and they were batted away like swaying twigs. All he could do was look on the menacing red face and in it, he saw the Devil and it made sense to him. Who else could it be? Who else would do such a thing as this?
The Devil pulled the blade out with a quick yank and then plunged it deep into the lower abdomen of the victim. Tam doubled over, his head leaning on the Devil's shoulder. The knife was twisted sharply and then pulled across the flesh of his belly opening him up completely. Taking a step to the side, the Devil allowed Tam to fall heavily to the ground where he curled up in the viscera that was accruing around him.
With Tam’s dying moments, he looked up and saw the Devil standing there looking down on him. He wiped his blade in his cloak, sheathed it, and watched as Tam died. There was a look of fascination in his eyes, and no fear at all that someone might come along and discover what he had done. That was the last thing Tam Grady would ever fail to understand.
Chapter 14
Kate stepped through the gate and into Lord Muc’s compound. Memories flooded her of the night Tim had thrown her out and she hid in the barns here until something terrible stirred the animals and she ran away in terror.
“Hello?” she called out looking around for anyone. A couple of pigs shuffled about in their pen but that was all. She peered into one shed and then another before looking towards the house. If she could avoid going in there she would but she needed to see Muc. She was desperate.
“Lord Muc!” she called more loudly this time. Silence.
Walking up to the back door of the house Kate steeled herself to go in. She put a hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath.
“In there is no place for a lady,” the mocking voice came from behind her. Kate spun in fright and saw that Muc was sitting on the roof of one of the sheds she had already lo
oked in.
“Why didn't you answer me when I called?” Kate asked angrily.
“Why should I?” Muc laughed.
Kate looked at him but didn’t say anything; she knew she would have to be nice to him to get him to help her.
“I’m here looking for your help,” she said. At this his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“You’re afraid of this new killer?” he asked.
“What new killer?” Kate asked both surprised and suddenly fearful at once.
“You haven’t heard?” Muc smiled, “I assumed you were here looking for protection like your friend the other night.”
“Thank you for walking Mary home that night, but what is this about a killer?”
“There was a murder on Angel Alley last night,” Muc said.
“Have there been more?” Kate asked. It was not unusual for a murder to happen in a city like Dublin after all.
“Not yet, but there will be.”
“How do you know?” Kate asked, a little frightened that she was here alone with him now.
“Do you know where Angel Alley is?” was his answer to this. Kate thought for a moment and then nodded,
“Yes, it’s just off High Street, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, but what’s at the other end of the alley?” That mischievous smile was on his face again as she thought about this. She wasn’t fully sure but she answered what she thought.
“It comes out on Nicholas Street, I think?”
“Close,” Muc said shaking his head, “It comes out on Back Lane.”
Anyone from the Liberties or the surrounding areas of Dublin would be able to tell you that one of the walls to Newgate Prison—known as the Black Dog locally—ran along Back Lane. It had been the scene of one the early Dolocher murders and also one of the dumping spots for Spencer's victims a few years after that.
“You think it’s starting again?” Kate asked fearfully.
“We will know soon enough, I suppose,” Muc said, “But, in the meantime I suggest you and your friends stay off the streets after dark.”
Kate felt sick and wondered if someone really had chased Mary a few nights ago, and if so had they been the one who carried out this murder? She didn’t want to have to live in fear again and this time she wouldn't have the comfort of knowing Tim was with her to protect her. This thought reminded her of why she had come here and she did her best to put Muc’s tales out of her mind.
“I didn’t come here to talk about murder,” she said, “I want to ask you about Tim.”
“Tim who?”
“Tim Mullins,” she said vexed thinking he was joking with her.
“The Blacksmith?”
“Yes, who else?”
“I never knew his name was Tim,” Muc laughed.
“His name isn’t important,” Kate snapped.
“What is important then?”
“I want him back,” she answered.
“I can’t help you with that,” Muc said flatly.
“Why not?”
“He’s back to his old self,” Muc smiled, “He’s fighting the whole time. When I think he’s had enough under his belt I’m going to sober him up and have the fight I’ve always wanted with him.”
“You’d step in the way of a marriage so you can fight someone you think is a worthy foe?” she asked.
“Why not?” Muc smirked, “You stepped into another man’s bed; isn’t that why he threw you out?”
“I did that to save his life!” she shouted, tears coming to her eyes now.
“That seems a very odd way to save a man.”
“Edwards had him locked up and ready to be sent to the gallows; it was the only way to save him!”
“Edwards eh, he’s a scamp alright,” Muc laughed. “He set it all up did he?”
“Yes, and then he told Tim about it.” The tears flowed more readily now and Muc looked down at her.
“Now that I know the story, I can say something to him, but I don’t think he’s going to change his mind,” he said.
“I’m desperate,” she sobbed. Muc though for a moment and said,
“Keep your ears open. If this is a new killer starting up you could go to him and ask him to protect you and your friends. I think he’d have a hard time saying no to that and you can try work on him from there. That’s about the best advice I can give you.” Kate nodded,
“I suppose it would be a start,” she said, “You don’t think there’s anything else you could do?” He shook his head. “Alright, thank you anyway,” she said and she started to walk away.
As she got to the gate, he called out to her,
“Make sure you take heed of what I said about a new killer. If it’s another run on the Dolocher legend you might not be safe anywhere alone.” Kate nodded, very tired now from her sobbing. She walked away and at that moment, she didn’t care if the killer took her or not.
Chapter 15
At breakfast, James sat with the Stapleton family in the large dining room overlooking the walled garden to the rear of the house. They had spoken pleasantries and were now almost finished eating. Fredrick came late and was behind the rest and he looked a little worse for wear. Too much wine, James surmised.
“I hope my stories didn’t give you nightmares last night, Alderman?” Fredrick laughed.
“No, no,” James assured him, “I have much darker memories to draw on if I’m in need of sleepless nights.”
“I suppose you must,” Fredrick nodded.
“Who was that who called so late last night, dear?” Lady Stapleton asked her husband to change the subject.
“A rider with a letter,” Stapleton said, and then looking to James added, “A friend of yours will be coming to join us later today or tomorrow I imagine.”
“Who would that be?” James asked, already knowing it would be Edwards. He must have gotten wind of James’ coming here.
“Mr Edwards;” Stapleton said, “I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.”
“Oh,” James said, “What brings him down here?”
“He says he’d been meaning to come here for years but just hasn’t gotten around to it. He’s going to England soon and he wasn’t sure when he would get the chance to come again.”
This didn’t sound plausible to James at all, but he was heartened by the fact it was possible Edwards was going to England for some time.
“I think he will like it here,” James said smiling to the family.
When breakfast was over and James- at the insistence of Fredrick- had seen the tiled entrance and the boar head family crest, he set out with Hodges to the place where the murder had been committed.
It was a spot near the wall of the stable, somewhere that was not overlooked from any point in the house. The ground was damp and the air smelled of the horses. There were still signs of blood on the plant life and the walls around. What had been on the ground had probably seeped in or been washed away by now.
“Describe how the body lay,” James said to Hodges.
“He lay on his side along this way, his head about here,” Hodges said pointing along the bottom of the wall and then pressing his foot where the head would have been.
“You were the one who found him?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And he was already dead when you came along?”
“Sir?”
“He didn’t try to communicate anything to you as he was dying?”
“No, Sir, he was quite dead and cold when I found him.”
“Did you notice anyone else around when you found the body?”
“No, Sir, I called for help but nobody came. I had to go back to the house to raise the alarm.” Hodges sounded indignant about this. James nodded in sympathy.
“What did you think of this man, Thompson?” James asked him.
“He was a good man,” Hodges answered. “He did his work, was polite and obeyed orders. I never once had cause to reprimand him in all the years I’ve been here.”
“So you d
on’t know what could have troubled someone so much to kill him?”
“No, Sir. I am of the opinion that he came across someone doing something they shouldn’t; a poacher or someone trying to steal horses, and they killed him to get away.”
“Do you get people doing those kinds of things a lot around here?” James asked.
“Sadly so, Sir. There are always people stealing horses or livestock all over the peninsula.”
James thought on this a moment. It wasn’t too outrageous an idea; but he wasn’t sure it fitted in with the slashing of the man's throat. If he’d been stabbed and left for dead that would be more like what Hodges suspected. James had a different idea. He thought Thompson had been standing facing his killer when he was surprised by the upswing of a blade to sever his neck.
The Alderman looked to the ground and was dismayed to see a great many footprints in the soil.
“I don’t suppose you recall any footprints that were here before yours and everyone else who came to the scene subsequently?” he asked. Hodges looked to the ground and shook his head dolefully,
“I’m afraid not, Sir,” he said but then suddenly brightening said, “I can get those who were here back and measure their step against what is there however. If there is a footprint left that no one else fits that may be the one you are looking for, Sir?”
“Yes, I suppose there would be no harm in such an exercise,” James said after a moment’s silence. “Just be sure not to add any more to it, and make sure no one erases any that are already there.”
“I will see to it myself,” Hodges said standing to attention.
“Very good,” James said. Looking around he then said, “I think I’d like to ride up to the servant’s village now.” Hodges looked aghast at this.
Hunting Down the Darkness Page 5