“It begins with a letter,” he started as we fell quiet. “It was delivered on the Monday three weeks past, delivered by hand from those same Westminster corridors that Arkwright has so successfully lampooned. It was a simple note, requesting my attendance for lunch with a certain Claude Bowes-Lyon. Of course I knew the chap, knew his family history, and his reputation. I wondered what a Scottish lord from one of the old families would want with me.
“I did not have to wait long to find out. Lunch was served on the terrace, a fine breast of duck and an even finer Chablis. The lord, although he looked to be in rude good health, took none of it. But he had the good manners to wait until the meal was over before getting to the reason I had been brought here.
“ ‘There are two things in this world I love above all others,’ he said by way of preamble. ‘My castle at Glamis, and my youngest daughter. To have both under threat at the same time is almost more than I can bear.’
“I lit a pipe and waited. I knew when a proud man needs to talk, and this was one of those occasions.
“ ‘I have heard the stories of course,’ he continued. ‘All of us who live in and around the estate have lived with them all our lives; about the beast in the hidden room or the card game being played with Auld Nick for the player’s souls. I put no credence in such matters. I have seen men dead . . . and they stay that way. The dead do not come back.
“ ‘At least that is what I have always believed, and I continued to believe it right up until the birth of my youngest, Lisabet. Our troubles started on the night she came into the world.’
“He must have seen my shock, and was quick to allay any fears I might have shown.
“ ‘Oh no. You misunderstand me. There is nothing wrong with Lisabet. A more even-tempered girl you will never find. No. The problems arose within the walls of the old castle itself. At first it was merely knockings in the night, doors opening and closing, that sort of thing. I tried to write it off as merely the old stone itself settling and aging. But soon the servants began to rebel, refusing to go to the second floor, and I had a mutiny on my hands when I tried to force the issue.
“ ‘We took to ignoring the second floor completely, and that was that for several years. But we came to notice that things got worse when Lisabet was around. Matters came to a head just last month. I woke to the child’s screams, and when I got to her room she was almost hysterical. It tooks us hours to calm her down. All she could tell us was that the bogle had tried to take her.
“ ‘I have brought the girl to London in the meantime, but I need your help, Carnacki. I understand you have experience of this kind of thing, and I will not be forced from my own home. I need you to find out what this dashed thing is . . . and rid my family of it once and for all.’ ”
Carnacki paused to re-light his pipe before continuing.
“I could not with all conscience refuse,” he said. “There was the fact that he was a lord, of course. But more interesting to me than that was the opportunity it gave me. I had a chance to get to the bottom of an age-old mystery, and by Jove, I meant to take it.
“I set off the next morning, taking the Flying Scotsman as far as Edinburgh then another train on to Dundee where I had telegraphed ahead to have a carriage waiting. I needed one, you see, as I had ensured that I took a great deal of equipment with me, not knowing what might be required at the other end. A further twenty miles of rough road later and I arrived at the castle itself. It sits in a beautiful position with a wide, open aspect but, although it was still only late afternoon, a chill seemed to emanate from the very walls.
“The feeling of oppression only grew stronger as I was shown inside. The lord, or laird as they knew him here, had given me a letter of introduction to show to his housekeeper. The woman seemed to have been built from the same stuff as the castle itself, and indeed gave off a similar chill. She perused the laird’s letter twice before she deigned to allow me over the threshold. Even then she was at pains to inform me that I would be spending my nights in the servant’s quarters, being clearly, in her eyes, a mere tradesman in the laird’s employ.
“I was so enthused at the mere prospect ahead of me that I did not put up an argument. She showed me to a back room that was little bigger than a closet, and contained no more than a camp bed, a sink, and a bedside cabinet.
“ ‘I shall make you some breakfast in the morning,’ she said. “But only the once. After that you can do for yourself.’
“Again I did no more than agree. So far she had only showed me an icy coldness, but I am afraid I shattered that bastion completely with my next, and last, question.
“ ‘Can you show me to the room please?’ I asked. “The child Lisabet’s room? I need to find the bogle.’
“At the merest mention of the word she went as white as a sheet. She made a quick movement with her right hand, warding off the evil eye.
“ ‘ ’Tis on the second floor,’ she said, already leaving the room. I could see she was trying hard not to appear to be hurrying. ‘You can find your own way there I am sure, a fine gentleman such as yourself.’
“And with that I was left to my own devices. The first order of business was to inventory what I had brought with me. I had, of course, a copy of the Sigsand MS at hand, along with my defense kit. I checked the vials of holy water, the bulbs of garlic, the chalk, and the string—all were present and correct. As the castle fell quiet around me I also checked the apparatus of the electric pentacle. All the valves had remained intact despite the rattling of the carriage over the hard roads of Tayside. Satisfied that I had everything at hand if the need should arise, I headed forth into the castle proper.
“My first surprise came when I had barely gone ten yards. I walked up a staircase, intent on reaching the second floor when I realized the import of the window directly ahead of me. It was at least fifteen feet tall, and the glass glowed where moonlight hit it, like silver melted in a furnace. The leaded glass was imprinted with the finest of mosaics, and showed a figure standing on a border. On the left hand side of the window was a winter scene, a snow-covered landscape that twinkled with frost and reflected harsh moonlight in dark shadows that seemed to creep across the view.
“On the right-hand side it was summer. Children played in a field of green with lambs and foals. A glorious sun lit everything in deep gold that seemed almost warm against my face.
“The watcher himself had two faces. An old wrinkled visage watched the summer scene, while a fresh faced youth watched the snowfall in winter.”
Carnacki paused again, this time to pack fresh tobacco in his pipe. The rest of us took our cue from him and did likewise.
“Here is a fact for you chaps to ponder,” he said. “Did you know that in the eighth century, the Arab chemist Jabir ibn Hayyan described forty-six original recipes for producing colored glass in The Book of the Hidden Pearl? It is directly from him that the whole history of stained glass windows, from then to now, descends. His name was also Latinized as Geber. He wrote in a mangled verse that was so convoluted and strange that it coined a new word, gibberish. And since him, alchemists have always hidden their secrets in code.”
“Alchemy?” Jessop said, and guffawed. “Fairy tales and hokum.”
Carnacki merely smiled.
“We shall see,” was all he said.
He waited until we were settled again, then continued.
“That window had given me pause, for I had not thought to find something so arcane decorating the hallway of the staid lord I had met in London.
“The second floor of the castle intrigued me further. The floor, unlike the others I had traversed, was uncarpeted and my footsteps echoed on old wooden boards. And it did not take me long to pinpoint the young girl’s room. It was the only one on the whole floor that looked as if it had been recently occupied, and it was decorated as if the occupant wished to be a princess straight from the days of chivalry; all satin drapes and lush tapestries.
“This was where the child had apparently seen th
e bogle, and this was where my investigations must begin. I did not, in that first instance, set up any protections at all, for I was unsure as yet as to what I was dealing with, and I did not want to show my own hand until it was absolutely necessary. I sat on a chair that was several sizes too small to accommodate me comfortably, lit a pipe, and waited to see what the night might bring.
“By now, the castle had fallen completely silent around me, and the only sound was the soft whistling of the wind outside. I began to consider that I might be dealing with a bhean sidhe, a portent of doom for the clan chieftain. But the very involvement of the child had me confused, for a banshee would not make a corporeal appearance such as that reported by Lisabet.
“I was not left wondering for very long.
“The first intimation I had was a sudden lowering of temperature—not in itself an unusual occurrence of a Scottish evening, but what set this one apart was the tracing of frost that ran across the inside of the window as if laid there by some manic spider. Light footsteps came towards the room from out in the corridor. I stood, thinking myself ready for whatever would enter.
“I expected a person, but what entered was little more than a pale shadow, as insubstantial as the infamous Scotch mist. It hovered in the doorway then came forward, looming over the empty bed where the child would have lain. Then, with no sound other than more accompanying footsteps, the mist left the room and returned to the corridor, paying no heed whatsoever to my presence. I followed, several yards behind at first, then closer when I realized there was no threat to my person.
“I was led to the furthest reaches of the second floor, to a back corridor where there was only a single gas lamp flickering wanly on one wall. The mist went through a closed door as if it wasn’t there. If I wanted my answers, I had no option but to follow.
“The door handle near froze to my palm, and the cold took my breath away as I pushed my way into a small unlit room no more than eight feet square, and with only a single table for furniture. The mist hovered over the table for a second, then faded to nothingness, leaving not even a patch of dampness behind.
“There was something lying on the table, a thin journal bound in brown calfskin with raised letters on the surface. I tried to read the title but it was too dark in the room to make it out. Besides, although the spectre, if that it what it had been, had gone, yet the chill remained. I took the book with me and returned to my Spartan, but relatively warm, quarters.
“I studied the volume at my leisure over another very welcome pipe of tobacco.
“The book was no more than eight inches in length, and was a slim volume. As I have said, it was bound in dark brown calf over wooden boards, heavily ornamented and gold tooled. The frontispiece inscription read as follows:
“Ye Twelve Concordances of ye Red Serpent. In wch is succinctly and methodically handled ye stone of ye philosophers, his excellent effectes and admirable vertues; and, the better to attaine to the originall and true meanes of perfection, inriched with Figures representing the proper colours to lyfe as they successively appere in the practise of this blessed worke.
“Once again I had a reference to the Great Work. Somehow my bogle was intimately connected with a work of alchemy.
“Inside, the book was an illuminated manuscript on parchment, some thirty leaves or so. Each page contained a drawing in a high degree of precision and a commentary done in a neat tidy hand.
“The first caught my eye immediately.
“Extractio Animae Solis: or a Triall upon Sol, for the Extraction of Philosophical earth. The Author has putt doon the consequences of his Experiments therein, from the beginning to the end, by way of Journal; in the sure and sertin hope of the resurrection and the life of Our Lady, in this year of oor lord fifteen hunner an eichty seven. Putt doon here in the Castle of The Lions.
“The accompanying picture was titled MALAGMA, and showed a fiery red serpent eating the world which was depicted as a shining golden disc.
“Strictly speaking of course, this wasn’t part of the process at all, rather, this picture was a symbolic representation of the whole process. As you chaps are aware malagma is Latin, meaning amalgamation. And the whole process of alchemy, the quest if you like, is to amalgamate the soul, the microcosm, with the universe, the macrocosm.”
Carnacki paused.
“Would you like to recharge your glasses?” he said. “The tale is a long one, and we have a ways to go yet.”
As we helped ourselves to more of the fine Scotch, Jessop cornered Carnacki by the fireplace.
“I’m sorry, old chap,” he said. “You’ve lost me already. What was that about amalgamation?”
Carnacki laughed.
“I thought that might confuse matters. The symbolism was obscure even when it was written. But all we need to concern ourselves with is the larger picture. We all exist together in one huge womb that is the universe, the macrocosm, while we inhabit the lower regions, this Earth, in our daily lives, the microcosm. Alchemists were convinced that they could transcend both states, both above and below, both life and death. It came to symbolize the transformation required to reach illumination and eternal life.”
“Illumination?” Jessop asked, clearly perplexed.
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” Carnacki said smiling. “I just wanted you to get some idea what I was getting into. As I have already said, the tale has only just begun to unravel.”
He allowed us time to light fresh smokes then, settled in his chair once more, he continued his tale.
“I found another picture I recognized in the book. Solutio, the heading above the picture read. It showed a tall figure with two faces, one old, one young. The young one looked over a winter scene, the old one over summer. The bottom half of the figure seemed to be melting into a deep black pool, but both faces were smiling.
“It was the same as I had seen in the stained glass, only this time the figure looked thinner, more feminine. But I knew something of its import. This was one of the main steps in the great journey. The active principals from the microcosm are subsumed and dissolved by oil of mercury, the last vestiges of the old removed, preparing the way for the rise to the new beginning in the macrocosm.”
“The remainder of the folio was as I have already described, a series of pictures describing the steps of alchemy. I do not pretend to understand it all, but even so, I failed to see how it helped in any way with my investigation. I tossed the book aside in disgust. It hit the side of my cramped bed and fell to the floor. As it did so, the spine of the folio split, revealing a folded sheet of paper cunningly hidden inside. I removed it as carefully as I was able. It was a short note, undated and unsigned.
“I hae done whit wis requested. Something hae been brocht back. Whever it be fit fur the task will hae to be seen. She is confused and sair afflicted, but it is her. There is nae doobt o’ that. It is a great blasphemy, but it needed done, and I am content to await the accountability of God alone. It will be wurth a’ the trials if it brings the end o’ tyranny and the return o’ that which wis taken from us.
“As you can imagine, that did not enlighten me to any great extent. An examination of the paper showed it to be of a similar date to the Concordances, but more than that I could not ascertain.
“By now it was well into the reaches of the night and I had more than enough to think on. I spent the hours through until morning in fitful sleep on a bed that was scarcely worthy of the name. As soon as the sun came up I rose, made what ablutions I could, and went in search of some breakfast.
“The housekeeper was in the kitchen, and proved as irascible as before. I was unceremoniously served with a thick porridge that looked like gray paste but was surprisingly tasty, and a pair of smoked kippers that were as divine as anything ever served in any fine hotel in town.
“I thanked her profusely, but still she did not soften . . . not until I mentioned the child, Lisabet.
“ ‘I have no time for you poking around in the lady’s room,’ she said. �
��That girl is the only reason I stay in this godforsaken place. A sweeter child you will never meet.’
“And at that I do believe I saw a tear in the housekeeper’s eye. But when I looked again, the steely glint had returned. I tried to ask about the back room on the second floor, and the calf-bound journal, but she brooked no discussion of either that, or the bogle.
“ ‘It is the laird’s place to tell any stories, not mine.’
“She would say no more, and as I moved around the lower floors of the castle I realized there were no other servants there for me to question. I resolved that I would put my questions to the source, the bogle itself, that very night.
“That left me with a day to fill. I took myself off for a walk around the castle grounds. The laird kept a fine garden, full of plants drawn from all quarters of the globe, and the views across the valley were clear and bright on a fine sunny day such as this. Later I left the castle itself and wandered into the small town that butted up against the main exterior wall of the grounds. Several locals eyed me warily, but I managed to loosen tongues in the local inn when I spent a guinea buying those present some ale and whisky.
“Yet again my attempt to find information was to be foiled. All present had indeed heard of the bogle in the castle, but theories about its origins were as many as the number of flagons I had bought. There was only one statement that stayed with me as I returned to my small billet. It was something the landlord of the inn said as I left.
“ ‘ ’Tis a shame we only have the laird and the bairn,’ he said. ‘For yon castle is fit for bigger than that. ’Tis fit for royalty.’
Carnacki stopped, tapped out the pipe in the grate and refilled it.
“I wonder if any of you are beginning to understand what was ahead of me?”
Arkwright raised a hand, like a boy in a schoolroom, but Carnacki waved him down.
“No. Let us save theories and explanations until the story is done.
Weird Detectives Page 43