Wormwood

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘Blake, in the name of Hermes let me in!’ he cried, the pain of the bite tinging his voice. ‘Blake, shoot the thing! Let me in, do something!’

  The dog let out a loud squeal as he kicked it against the iron railing of the house. But then three large mastiffs slowly walked into the square. They were wheezing and breathless, their mouths stained with fresh blood. They looked at Bonham, and even from such a distance they could smell his fear. Blake saw the creatures and realised that his friend was in great danger. He ran to the door, knowing he would have to move faster than the dogs if he were to save his friend. Down and down he ran, round and round, along each landing, his heart pounding in his chest.

  Outside, the mastiffs stared at Bonham for several moments and then set off, covering the ground towards him a yard at a time. They slavered and growled as they ran, baring their large stained teeth, getting closer by the second.

  Bonham screamed as he watched the dogs pounding down on him. He felt like a cornered fox about to be torn apart, ripped and eaten. ‘Quickly man, let me in!’

  Blake stumbled over his feet, fell one length of the stairs and crumpled on the landing of the first floor. He got up and ran again. ‘Bonham, look out man, I’m here!’ he shouted. He knew that he had one more flight and then the length of the hall before he got to the front door. And then panic hit him: the key, where was the key?

  Outside, Bonham watched as the mastiffs pounded the mud with their paws, racing each other, their speed increasing with the prospect of a kill. He braced himself for what was to come. He squared his back against the door and drew a small flintlock pistol from his belt, knowing he would have only one shot, knowing he could not kill all three creatures. With both hands he aimed the gun at the hounds. Relentlessly they covered the ground before him. Bonham sighted the lead animal; it was larger than the others and led by a length. He aimed the gun a yard ahead and slowly squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell and powder exploded as the shot rang out, hitting the mastiff in the chest. The animal let out an ear-splitting howl but didn’t even flinch. Bonham closed his eyes and waited. In thirty seconds he would be prey for the hounds.

  Blake got to the door, which was made of thick oak, four times bolted and twice locked. He quickly began to slide away the bolts – one, two, three, four – counting as he went. ‘The key, the key!’ he shouted, searching frantically for its hiding-place. Then, looking down, he spied the key on a small hook. He grabbed it tightly and pushed it into the top lock, turning as fast as he could, knowing he had only seconds before Bonham’s demise. He fumbled in his haste and the key dropped to the floor. He grabbed it again and quickly turned the bottom lock. It was stiff and hard to turn, but opened with a reassuring clunk. He slapped the handle and the great door swung open.

  Bonham fell backwards into the hall, and Blake was confronted with the sight of the three hounds bounding towards him.

  The wounded mastiff summoned all of its strength as it leapt from the road up the marble steps towards him. Seeing his fate, Blake quickly slammed the door and slid the bolts. There was a loud thud as the door vibrated and shook with the impact of the hound, but it held fast. He heard the dog drop to the gound.

  There was silence in the sanctuary. Isaac Bonham stared at Blake.

  ‘Never be that late again,’ Bonham panted. ‘One more second and I would have said goodbye to this life.’

  2: Pulvis Humani Cranum

  From the safety of the second-floor library with its polished floors and ochre walls, Blake and Bonham looked out on the devastation in the square. Pistol and musket shots rang out as the militia, dressed in their long red coats, white breeches and black boots, executed the last of the rampaging dogs and horses. They watched as the captain of the guard went from creature to creature. He drew his sabre over each one and with a swift blow made sure that they were dead.

  The dead lay where they had fallen and the people who had sought safety in the trees were reluctant to come down for fear of yet another onslaught from some other beast. Those who had been attacked by the dogs sat in a huddled mass by the side of the road, waiting and wailing. A fine white mist blew in from the river, clinging to the house fronts and hovering like a funeral pall. It covered the ground at head height, hiding some of the people from view, covering their agony as a crisp fall of snow covers the dirt of the road.

  Both men stared at the scene before them. It was now the third hour after midnight but the morning sun was in full blaze, casting thick black shadows on to the top of the mist. High above, a vivid blue sky obscured the sky dragon from view. Blake looked up, knowing that in a few days the secret would be out: others would be sure to see it and would claim it for their own unless he acted quickly. Blake could not allow that; it was his discovery, a lifetime’s work.

  It was Bonham who broke the silence. Trembling, still shocked from his nightmare with the dogs, he turned to Blake. ‘They weren’t as lucky as me,’ he said as he pointed to the body of a young girl being dragged away by her mother into the ever-thickening mist. ‘That could have been me, Sabian. By Hermes, I am so glad you were in.’ Bonham patted Blake on the back. ‘One more second and that thing would have had me.’

  ‘You are blessed, brother, blessed. It was not your time,’ Blake replied quietly.

  Bonham sensed that Blake was distant, his mind far away, engrossed in some other world.

  ‘But you – what of you, Sabian? Tell me, what do you think happened?’ Bonham had a deep soft voice that was warm and friendly. It was rich, like chocolate and honey. He tried to smile at Blake. ‘I could see its teeth as it ran towards me; I saw the look of hatred in its eyes. In those last few moments I thought I was staring into the depths of hell. What caused this? First the darkness and then the madness.’

  ‘It was foretold,’ Blake’s reply came swiftly. ‘As plain as the nose on your face, staring at us from the beginning of time and yet we couldn’t see it.’

  Blake knew that he had to share the finding of the comet with Bonham. They had known each other since Magdalene College; they had shared, and sometimes stolen, each other’s secrets, but they were friends and brothers in the Cabala. He grew agitated. ‘I have something to tell you, something that I have to tell the world. You must help me. My discovery will change everything.’ He took hold of Bonham by the collar of his coat, gripping it in his fists and pulling his face close to his. ‘Promise me, promise me one thing. You must –’ He paused as he stared into his friend’s eyes. ‘I must know – will you believe what I tell you? Will you keep it a secret?’

  ‘Sabian, you have known me since we were young men. Tell me, what troubles you so?’

  Bonham pulled Blake’s hands from his collar and walked him to the chair beside the fireplace. The fire had been covered with slack powder to keep it in for the night. It smouldered like a smoking volcano, drawn up and out into the London air by the strong updraft.

  Blake sat down in the chair, his mood changing from excitement to trepidation. As Bonham prodded the fire with the brass poker, jets of coal gas leapt from the flames and burnt red and blue, hissing and spluttering.

  ‘Now my friend, tell me what troubles you.’ Isaac Bonham had never seen Blake like this before. He had always been a man who was in control. Blake led an ordered life, neat and precise.

  ‘What happened tonight was no accident and certainly not an earthquake. The very foundations of the universe have been moved by some great power of which we know little.’ Blake paused and looked at Bonham eye to eye. ‘I saw something tonight that will change the way we look at the world. I found mention of it in the Nemorensis –’

  ‘But the book doesn’t exist,’ Bonham butted in, his deep voice raised in excitement. ‘It’s a legend.’

  ‘It exists and it is here, beneath this very roof. It came into my possession by chance, delivered by the gods, one could say.’ Blake spoke quickly and in a hushed voice. ‘I have read every word and finally I found it. The calculations said that last night something would happen. When t
he light vanished and just before the sun rose, I saw it: between Sirius and Aquila there is a comet, and it is coming towards us.’ Blake waited for Bonham to reply but he looked into the burning coals, his mind unable to grasp what had been said. ‘What you witnessed last night was not an earthquake or sky-storm,’ Blake continued. ‘It was time standing still … We were spectators to what it was like before creation, a black, dark, void, complete nothingness.’ Bonham looked up from the fire, taking in his words for the first time. ‘Today is the first day of a new age. Everything has begun again. As before, we have the coming of a star, a comet to light our way, and wise men always follow the star.’

  ‘So the book is here and you really have it?’ Bonham said, still not believing.

  ‘It is, and I do! In fact, Isaac, you can see it for yourself.’ Blake rose from the chair and stepped towards the fireplace. ‘You too can look on the Book of Splendour. I will show you the secret.’

  ‘And what of this comet? Why does it predict our fate?’ asked Bonham.

  ‘In four nights the whole world will be able to see it with the naked eye, in twenty-one days it will either pass the earth or strike a blow from which we may never recover. This sky dragon is Wormwood. The Nemorensis says it will poison the waters and many will die from its bitterness.’

  ‘Can you stop it? The comet could destroy the earth and everything on it!’ Bonham raised his voice as he stepped away from the fireside and walked to the large window draped in thick green curtains. ‘If one sky-quake can bring all this destruction and madness, then what will the sight of a comet do to the people of London?’ Bonham took the dandy gun from his pocket and with his powder flask filled the barrel with a charge. From his gold waistcoat he took a bright silver snuff box and then picked out a small pistol shot the size of a large pea. ‘If the madness will come again then I will be prepared; I will go immediately and arm myself with weapons capable of killing any mad hound that ventures forth.’ Bonham loaded the shot into the pistol and charged the hammer-plate. He aimed the pistol out of the window as if to shoot. ‘The next time I face a dog from hell it won’t be my leg it chews but this lead.’

  ‘Your lead won’t stop the panic and it won’t stop the comet. If my calculations are correct then it will be a very close thing indeed. If they are wrong then we will be faced with the end of the world.’ Blake walked to the window, and together they looked out over the square.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before, Sabian. Stampeding horses, mad dogs and now comets crashing to earth. And you believe you’ve the secret that will unravel all these things?’

  ‘Not I, but the book. And this secret we must keep to ourselves. There are others who would find great power in knowing what is to be known. The Nemorensis has the potential to change us all. It is far more powerful than the alchemist’s stone, and many will think it can turn their lead to gold. I know that somewhere in its pages is the secret of life itself.’

  Suddenly they both heard a low growling coming from behind the cabinet door at the far side of the room. The door was made of book spines that looked like they were part of the library that covered the wall from floor to ceiling. Halfway down was a large green leather spine with the title etched in gold: Opus Interacto. When the spine was lifted the door would click open to reveal a large cabinet where Blake kept his supply of snuff, physick powders, gin and his most treasured possession of all, Artemisia absinthium.

  Blake looked at Bonham and gestured him to be silent. The noise came again. It was the low guttural sound of a large dog with a grumbling growl that rattled through its teeth.

  Bonham took the dandy gun and aimed it nervously at the cabinet door. He looked at Blake, unsure of what to do next, then slowly pulled back the hammer of the gun, making it ready to fire.

  The snarling came again, followed by frantic scratching that sounded like a large creature trying to dig its way from captivity. The growling was then muzzled, and the dog snorted through its nose.

  Blake hesitated. He looked at Bonham, who now held the small pistol in two hands to steady his trembling. Then Blake slowly walked towards the door. On hearing the footsteps the hound growled even louder, pushing at the cabinet door in its attempt to escape. Blake reached out and took hold of the spine of the book and began to release the catch.

  The door crashed open, and Blake was pushed from his feet. Bonham froze, unable to pull the trigger. In front of him was a large black dog with its right ear torn in half and its face scarred from years of bull-baiting. It snarled through broken and jagged teeth.

  ‘Stop it, Brigand,’ said a soft voice, and a girl stepped from the shadow of the deepest part of the cabinet. ‘You’re frightening the gentleman,’ she said, holding tightly to the dog’s thick black leather collar.

  The girl stepped forward, her face etched in shadow and sunlight. She was tall and thin with long black hair that fell over her face. Over her shoulders was a black shawl; a white apron covered a thick green dress.

  ‘Who in the name of Hermes are you?’ Bonham asked in amazement, pointing the pistol towards the large mongrel dog that kept growling at him.

  ‘That is Agetta Lamian!’ Blake said, getting up from behind the heavy cabinet door. ‘She is my housemaid.’ He spoke angrily to the girl: ‘I suppose you can give an account of why you were hiding in the cabinet?’

  Agetta looked to the floor and held on even tighter to Brigand’s collar. ‘It was the earthquake, I was putting out the candles in the house, I knew you were upstairs and I always let Brigand in. He comes to meet me, protects me from the Mohocks as we walk home.’ Agetta looked up at Bonham and tried to smile. ‘I was frightened. The house started to shake, we hid in the cabinet and I held on to Brigand, he’s all I’ve got …’

  ‘Why then didn’t you come out when I came into the room?’ Blake asked icily.

  ‘I thought you would have been angry. You never liked the dog, so I thought I would hide until you’d gone and then let myself out.’ Agetta looked Blake in the eye and pushed her raven-black hair away from her face.

  ‘Did you hear what we spoke about?’ Blake asked.

  ‘Some of it. Never made much sense, so I tried to keep Brigand from snarling,’ she replied hoping the questions would stop.

  ‘The some of it you understood you are to keep to yourself. Mention it to no one.’ Blake looked at Bonham.

  ‘Will sir put the gun down now? It’s making Brigand nervous and I don’t know how long I can hold him for.’ Agetta struggled to keep hold of the collar as the dog pulled against her, hoping to grab Bonham with one bite and swing him like a captured rabbit around the room.

  Bonham took one step back, clicked the hammer down and put the dandy gun into the pocket of his frock coat. An uncomfortable silence descended on the three. He looked to the dog and then to Agetta. ‘Had it long?’ he stuttered nervously. ‘Had the dog for long? He’s so … big. Does he bite?’

  ‘Only Mohocks, and those who get too close to me. Just what I need when I leave here at midnight to walk back to Fleet Street.’ Agetta stepped into the room, keeping the dog close to her side.

  ‘And the Mohocks trouble you?’ Bonham asked.

  ‘Once they troubled me, now Brigand troubles them. They run a mile in their fancy suits. Dressed up and dangerous, that’s what they think. Gang of idiots, I say, not a brain between them. Dress up and chase old men and harlots.’ She began to fill the room with her presence. Agetta feared very little and there was something about Blake’s friend that intrigued her.

  ‘Then you’d better go forth into the day and trouble them some more.’ Blake interrupted her gazing at Bonham. ‘It’s morning, you’ll be able to see them clearly. Your hound can chase them to Hyde Park if he wants to,’ he said curtly.

  Agetta looked at the gold French clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s still night, sir, but the sun has risen.’

  ‘My dear girl,’ Blake said. ‘You hid through an earthquake of such significance that it altered time. It is morning, th
e darkness has passed, it is a new day.’ He looked at Bonham and then back to Agetta. ‘Take the day off, come back tonight,’ he said briskly. ‘But tell no one of what you heard or you will need more than your dog to save you … I know you understand.’ He looked to the room above, his voice obvious in its threat. Agetta bowed her head.

  ‘I understand, sir,’ Agetta said as she led Brigand from the room. She turned in the doorway. ‘I know you think I’ll talk about what I heard, but I won’t. I may be many things, but I will keep my promise, Doctor Blake, I assure you of that.’

  ‘I know you will, Agetta, I know you will.’ Blake smiled, unknowingly charmed again. She had worked her magic once more and he hadn’t even realised it.

  Agetta left the library, carefully closing the door behind her. She let go of Brigand and ushered him down the stairs. She herself didn’t move, but cupped her ear to the door and listened.

  ‘That was quite a fright, Sabian,’ Bonham said. ‘Almost shot her and the dog. Do you think she’ll speak of what she heard?’

  ‘Not Agetta, she knows what would happen. We can be sure of that. She knows who the master is,’ Blake replied.

  ‘We could have kept her here until –’

  ‘Her father would have been here as fast as that dog crossed the square,’ Blake butted in. ‘You would rather face the mastiff than Cadmus Lamian. If you think the Mohocks are the scourge of the city, then Cadmus Lamian would be your worst nightmare. He is a man you would never want to cross.’

  Blake walked back to the window and looked out over the mist-covered square. ‘It was old Cadmus who got me to take his daughter on. Twisted my arm and my purse strings. He said she would be useful but she costs me more than any servant I have ever had. There is something about the girl. When you look into her eyes it is as if you are staring at someone who has seen the world many times before, and knows more about life than you do. But she’s good at her job and she knows when to keep her mouth shut.’