There was a groan and a thud behind her and she turned to see Robert’s hand grasping the top rung of the ladder, the diamond in the ring on his finger catching the light.
“Claire, get behind me!” And then Zacharie leaped forward and stamped down hard, on Robert’s hand. It was ruthless. Efficient. Shocking. There was a cracking sound and a scream of rage and pain.
“See? I will do anything to keep you safe.” Zacharie was looking back at her, with an expression of such utter determination on his face, he was barely recognisable. His beautiful mouth was twisted and his eyes were dark glittering slits. But she had to trust him. He’d saved her from Robert before. And he was the rope-walker, wasn’t he?
“Now you must give me the box. Give it to me. Then I will have all the spells.” Claire could see that he had Robert’s black bag slung over his shoulder. “Quick, before he reaches you.”
“Oh Claire.” Robert, ashen-faced, had pulled himself up at last onto the platform and was standing looking at her. His dark hair, threaded with grey now, and his black jacket billowing out in the wind. Then he looked across at Zacharie and Claire could see that he’d registered the black leather bag. His bag.
Claire sensed Zacharie moving in close behind her. She reached back for his hand. Felt his strong, hard fingers close around hers and said, “Zacharie is the guardian. He’ll help me just as Christophe helped Margrat. But this time you will die!”
The ghost of a smile lit up Robert’s face, “Zacharie won’t help you. He only wants to help himself. Don’t you Zacharie? I see he has my spells already and now he wants the casket. He knows how valuable the spells and casket are to me… and he knows that I have money.”
“Don’t listen to him Claire.” Zacharie’s fingers were crushing hers tight. His head bent close to hers. She could feel his hot breath whispering in her ear.
“Well perhaps he wouldn’t sell them. But when was it that you first thought of taking the spells for yourself, Zacharie? Of opening the casket if you could? When you came to my house and saved Claire?”
Zacharie let go of her fingers, but then his arms came up around her… too tight to reassure. But not threatening. Yet. She wanted to lean back against him, feel the strength of his body flow into hers. She badly needed to trust him… because if she couldn’t, then who was there?
“But first you have to get Claire to give you the casket. Then what? Only Claire can open it with her ring. She is the key. So you would need Claire too… and what wicked things would you have to do to her, to make her open it?”
“Supposing I did sell you the spells…” Zacharie said. Claire tried desperately to twist round so she could look up at Zac’s face, but he was holding her too tight. “Then what? How would you make Claire open the casket, Robert? Could you force her to do it? She wouldn’t do it willingly for you either.”
“For her own flesh and blood?” Robert was stepping towards them, slowly but with a terrifying determination. “You look shocked Zacharie. Didn’t you know… Claire is my grandaughter ten times removed.”
Claire lifted her head. “So?”
“Claire, I must have the spells or I will die. Will you watch me die?”
“Yes, then my brother will be safe.”
Slowly, steadily, little by little, Claire could feel Zacharie pulling her back with him. Tiny incremental steps. His grip had tightened on her and she could feel him tense; ready to spring away from Robert. But suddenly the roar of the crowd made him stop. She could feel his body twist round as he looked over his shoulder towards his sister, safe on the platform now, stepping out of her harness and unclipping her safety wire. A pause. Then in one short, sinuous movement, Zacharie had seized Claire’s wrist and was pulling her across the platform, straight towards Jacalyn. For a second Claire felt relief flood through her. Three against one. Strength in numbers. They would defeat Robert together. But then Jacalyn said, her voice calm and sure, “I won’t let you do it Zacharie. You are a guardian. I won’t let you betray the trust.”
“And who’s going to stop me? Do you think he can? Look at him… he’s finished.”
Robert could barely stand now. His body swayed in the wind. His face so white, the skin looked like a mask, with black holes for his eyes and mouth.
“I will.” Jacalyn’s eyes glittered. Her hands clenched tight, her body tensed and ready.
“But you don’t have the ring. And you never will, not while there is breath in my body. This is my chance to escape…get away from you and the circus and my suffocating life. I will kill you, Jacalyn, if you try and stop me.”
“Zacharie!” Claire was tugging at his hand, trying to pull him back. “That’s a wicked thing to say. She’s your sister!”
“So? Let me see… total freedom and unbelievable power weighed against the life of just one person. Which do you think I will choose?”
Claire felt cold to the bone as she looked at his face, his beautiful mouth made ugly by the words he was saying. Was struck quite dumb as he raised his hand and brought it down hard across the side of his sister’s head, knocking her off her feet. Jacalyn crashed against the railing and blood began to trickle down her face.
Then Zacharie dragged Claire past her, until they were at the very edge of the platform. Still holding Claire’s arm tight, he held out Jacalyn’s safety harness and told her to put it on. Zacharie was impatient, angry. Watching Claire, but also watching Jacalyn and Robert. “Now!”
Claire felt the cold sweat of fear. What was he going to make her do? She looked down over the edge of the platform, at the dark water of the river and the eddying mass of people lining its bank. Talking to herself all the while, because it made the terror manageable. “You stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Margrat was right. Just because someone looks beautiful…”
But she could see that Zacharie was calculating too, trying to work out how to put on his own safety harness, without letting her go. Would there be enough time? Would Jacalyn get to them first? Or would Robert?
A fleeting moment of indecision, then he let go of her, stepped into the harness and slung the black leather bag back over his shoulder. He turned to take Claire’s hand, and at that moment, Robert made his move. He knew now that Zacharie had the 20 spells and planned to escape along the wire with them. Then the spells would be out of his grasp, and Robert knew that without them he would die. Claire watched as he gathered the last of his strength and made a desperate leap towards Zacharie, slashing his diamond ring down Zacharie’s cheek.
Zacharie cried out, stumbled and his right foot stepped back off the platform. He would have fallen then, but Robert, oblivious now to the pain in his crushed hand, reached out and held onto him by the strap of the black leather bag. Once he had firm hold on the strap, he pulled it from Zacharie’s shoulder and with his right foot pushed Zacharie backwards and watched as he fell. Felt the judder through the steel of the platform as the safety line broke Zacharie’s fall. Watched for a second as slowly, painfully, hand over hand, Zacharie began to pull himself back up.
Robert, the black bag safely strapped across his body now, turned back to Claire. He had the 20 spells and now he wanted the Emerald Casket. And Claire would have run, tried to climb back down the ladder and escape, but Jacalyn stood in her way. “You must open the Emerald Casket now,” she said, “and you must hurry.”
“But that’s what he wants me to do. And I’ve tried to open it and…”
“You must do it. The time of the prophecy has come. Thoth will speak and the wicked will be punished.”
Claire hesitated. “Now,” the voice in her head was saying. “Do it now.” She hurriedly slipped off the backpack and pulled out the casket. She fitted the ring (so tight and hot the pain was almost unbearable) into the cartouche. She could feel Jacalyn standing close, her hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. Saw Zacharie haul himself back up onto the platform.
But he was too late, for this time the box was opening. There was no scroll inside, but a silvery blue dust was spiralling up and ou
t, forming a cloud that blocked out all light. The air became ice cold and filled with a noise, a susurration like a billion locusts on the wing. Then a few pinpricks of light appeared, then more and more until the darkness was lit by great galaxies of light, swirling together until they became one single vortex of brightness. And she felt as if she was being sucked down into it. Peace. The briefest moment of total beatitude and cradling warmth. A voice softly whispering, “The time is now.” Hieroglyphics flashed across her mind’s eye like words on a reel of tickertape. Exhilaration. A feeling of immense power charging up every atom in her body until she fizzled and crackled and was on fire with it. Now she was spinning faster and faster, gathering the silvery blue dust to her, sucking it in, compressing it down inside her until it became a dark mass of pure energy. Then she breathed out. There was a shrieking, howling hurricane of noise. The blue dust that poured from her mouth forming a tornado that swirled out from her, faster and faster. She saw Zacharie’s eyes widen in fear and panic as the glittering blue tornado hit and he scrabbled to keep his hold on the railing. Then there was silence so loud, for a moment Claire was deafened by it. And empty space where Zacharie had been. And the casket was closed and locked again. And the only sound was of Jacalyn crying.
“She made a hard choice.”
Robert’s voice! She spun round and her face must have looked so shocked, he actually laughed.
“I know… I’m surprised too. Why wasn’t I swept away? To what purpose?” And he stepped towards her, his face shining and glorious as an angel.
Claire backed away from him, wrapping her arms tight around the casket. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Jacalyn was already alert to the danger. Was still crouched down near the railing, but was tensed and ready. Robert moved on towards Claire saying, “Give me the casket, Claire. Thoth means me to have it or I would surely have died with Zacharie.” His confidence was so great that he believed that if he asked, Claire would just give him the casket. It must be clear to her now that he was the chosen one.
Claire’s back was pressed into the railing. She had nowhere else to go. Robert’s hands were on the casket. He was pulling it away from her and she was struggling to hold on to it. His foot came up and pushed hard into her thigh and with one final pull, he had the casket. Was so triumphant at that moment that he did not register Jacalyn behind him or feel the loop of steel from a safety wire around his neck, until it was too late. She was much shorter than he was and so much lighter, but she pulled down with all her weight and it was enough for him to start choking… and reach up with one hand to try and loosen the wire. Even now he wouldn’t let go of the casket. Jacalyn wasn’t strong enough on her own… but with Claire’s help, they pulled and scrabbled and dragged Robert to the edge of the platform, to the gap where the high wire stretched out over the Thames.
“Get… the… casket.” Jacalyn’s grip on the safety wire was weakening and as she let go of it, Robert lost his balance and his grip on the casket loosened. And Claire was able to snatch it from him. For a split-second their eyes met and she saw herself reflected small in them. Then he was falling back through the gap, whirling round and down towards the river, his arms outstretched. And soon he had disappeared from sight into the gathering dusk.
At first Claire and Jacalyn just stood there, looking down, unable to move. And then Jacalyn’s arms were around Claire and the casket… pulling them both in. And Claire buried her head in Jacalyn’s shoulder and now she was safe, she began to cry.
“I followed you. Did you know?” Claire looked up at Jacalyn in surprise. “Everywhere that you went after we met at the circus. I didn’t have the ring to help me, but I needed to know where you lived and what was happening and that you were okay. Pah… that was exhausting! But I never trusted that Zac would help you. Never. That’s a terrible thing to say of your own flesh and blood, isn’t it?”
Claire was thinking of Robert. He was her flesh and blood wasn’t he? And she hadn’t tried to stop him falling either. She’d have to think about that later… when she was alone and the world had stopped wildly spinning.
“But my brother never really believed in the prophecy. At least not until the end. All Zac ever wanted was to get away from the circus and from me. You know, I never once thought he would die when the casket opened. I was sure that if anything bad were to happen, it would be to Robert.” Now Jacalyn was crying and it was Claire’s turn to comfort her.
“But Robert is dead too, isn’t he? He must be. So it’s over now and we’re safe. Everyone is safe and we have the casket.” She gave a sigh, thinking of her mum and Micky and her unborn baby brother. And as she breathed out, a swirl of silvery blue dust glimmered softly, just for a moment, in the dark night air.
Epilogue
They never found Robert or the black leather bag. But Zacharie’s body was found much later, downstream in the river. And he was still wearing the ring. After Jacalyn had identified him, she was allowed to take it. She slipped it on to the third finger of her right hand. And it fitted perfectly.
Papers reported ‘a freak weather event’, a tornado of swirling blue dust, occurring at dusk, over the river. And they reported the death of Zacharie. Jacalyn told them that her brother had just stepped out on the wire when the storm had blown up out of nowhere. He’d fallen and been ripped from his safety wire by the wind, like a leaf torn from a tree. But there was no mention of a Robert Benoit. He might never have existed.
As for Claire, she melted away into the crowds the moment they reached the ground.
Claire keeps Zacharie’s number on her phone. A sort of cruel memento. A reminder that nothing is ever what it seems and you must be careful who you trust, always. And she keeps Margrat’s papers and their translation, tied together with the red linen braid. She will put them somewhere safe, along with the silver necklace, a copy of the family tree and the Emerald Casket. Because, although she believes that Robert must be dead, she still feels uneasy. His body and his black bag were never found, but his face as he fell still haunts her dreams. And she knows somehow the spell is now part of her… and might one day resurface, bringing fear and wickedness in its wake.
She wears the ring, as she must, for only death can part her from it. But she knows that Jacalyn will come if she, Claire, should ever need her. For the guardian’s ring is Jacalyn’s now. And at least the epidemic of bird flu has burned itself out; the black rats disappearing as quickly as they came. And best of all, she has a new baby brother. Matthew. Proof surely that Robert’s power has failed.
Her mum and dad still live apart, but her dad was there when Matthew was born. And he calls round nearly every day and he phones now when he is away. Maybe, as Margrat believed, there is always hope. And who knows what the future will hold. But Claire is going to write her own account of what happened and put it with Margrat’s, as a true record and as a warning. For as Margrat wrote, Qua redit nescitist horam? Who can know the hour of his coming again?
Historical Note
Just like Margrat, Samuel Pepys, the famous 17th-century diarist, also went to see a mummy ‘with all its hieroglyphics’, on show at the Head and Combe in the Strand. There was a brisk trade in, and a fascination with, Egyptian artefacts during this period. Mummies, for instance, were believed to have magical power and were often ground up and used as medicine (mummia).
In the 17th century many people believed that ‘hieroglyphics’ were secret signs – a code that, once broken, would reveal the secrets of the Universe. There was also a widespread belief in a collection of texts called The Hermetica. It was said to be the teachings of Hermes Trismegistus (the merging of the Greek god Hermes and the Egyptian god Thoth) and was mostly written in Egypt between the first and fourth centuries AD. But it continued to have new text added to it, including the Emerald Tablet.
It is these texts, these magical ‘spells’ that the Doctor finds and manages to translate from the Egyptian; the Emerald Tablet becomes, in the novel, the Emerald Casket.
The t
errible powers of the Egyptian goddess Sekhmet were believed to cause epidemics and plagues. But she was also the goddess for physicians and healers, and so, was seen as being responsible for both the sickness and the cure!
The Doctor’s character shows similar ambiguity. He carries a silver-topped cane and wears a diamond ring, just as – according to the popular mythology of the time – the Devil was said to do when he was seen strolling down the Strand. But, the Doctor also smells of cassia, myrrh and aloes, which are said to have been part of a holy anointing oil used to perfume the robes of Jesus.
The streets mentioned in the Manuscript sections of the story are largely still there and the names are recognisable, and there was a grand house of the period, since demolished, recorded as being decorated with Egyptian scenes.
The poisons mentioned and their symptoms are accurate and would have been available at the time. Laudanum was invented in the early part of the 17th century and was in use then.
The name Benoit is a form of the name Benedict. So Nicholas Robert Benedict becomes Robert Benoit.
As to the rope-walker… there were French jugglers and rope-walkers in London at the time of the Great Plague. Foreigners were widely blamed for the sickness. Margrat’s descriptions of the punishments meted out to foreigners come from eye-witness accounts.
The modern-day rope-walker is, of course, very loosely based on the French wire-walkers who crossed the Thames to Jubilee Gardens, on a wire stretched between two cranes, as part of the first Festival of the Thames, in 1997. Oh, and the prophecy is a loose mix of the biblical, with a dash of Sybilline oracle!
A TEMPLAR BOOK
First published in the UK in 2011 by Templar Publishing,
Wickedness Page 17