“She winked at me.
“That was it for me. I retreated to the relative safety of the Faraday cage, lit a pipe, and tried not to look too closely at the casket.
“Morning turned to afternoon before I heard the first whisper. Once more it started so softly as to to be almost inaudible, but all too soon it rose into the chant I was coming to hate.
“O caput mortuum impero tibi per vivium Serpentem.
I closed the cage door and switched on the voltage. The structure hummed... but not loud enough to cut out the sound of the chant.
“Kerub impero tibi per Adam
“Aquila impero tibi per alas Tauri.
“Serpens impero tibi per Angelum et Leonem.
“The walls of the chamber seemed to beat and pulse, as in time with a giant heart. Overhead I heard the sound of rapid movement, footsteps fading in the distance as the workforce downed tools and left in quite some hurry.
“The walls seemed to constrict, as if I were in the gullet of the Serpent itself, and the exterior of the cage began to strain and buckle. I turned up the voltage and the pressure lessened... but only slightly.
“I caught a movement at the corner of my eye and turned just as the dark snakes slithered from the casket and began to make their way towards me.
“I turned the voltage even higher and raised my voice to a shout.
“Ri linn dioladh na beatha, Ri linn bruchdadh na falluis, Ri linn iobar na creadha, Ri linn dortadh na fala.
“The snakes continued to come forward, a wall of them four, six, eight feet tall until they filled the whole chamber and began to writhe around the cage. Sparks flew and I was buffeted from side to side as the whole structure rocked and threatened to fall.
“The steel hinges holding the door closed squealed and buckled. I pushed the voltage to maximum.
“Damnú ort! I shouted at the top of my voice.
“A percussive blast blew through the chamber, a light so bright that I could yet see it even when I pressed my eyes tightly closed. The rocking abated, and silence fell.
“I only opened my eyes when I heard a voice call from the top of the shaft.
“You’ve gone and blown out half of bloody London, Mr. Carnacki,” Menzies shouted. “If you hold on a tic I’ll get the generator going.”
“There is no rush,” I was about to say, but at that same moment I heard another noise, the clatter as dry bones knocked together. I decided it might be better not to leave the cage just yet.
“The skeleton rose out of the coffin like a string puppet being drawn upwards by an invisible puppeteer. Shakily at first, then seemingly with more confidence it stepped across the floor of the cavern, bones cracking and knocking, that stiff smile fixed on me all the way.
“I turned the voltage knob... but nothing happened. There was no accompanying hum. No power was getting through to the cage.
“I raised my voice in the chant.
“Ri linn dioladh na beatha, Ri linn bruchdadh na falluis, Ri linn iobar na creadha, Ri linn dortadh na fala.
“The skeleton faltered, almost fell, then straightened and came forward, faster than before.
“Damnú ort! I shouted at the top of my voice.
“That caused the creature to pause, even as it reached for the cage. The sight of the bony hand reaching for the door gave me an idea. But it was going to be dangerous. And it had to be done before Menzies got the generator functioning.
“I turned the voltage control to maximum and stepped out of the cage.
“She immediately reached for me and I let her come, circling her so that she had her back to the cage door.
“Damnú ort! I shouted, one last time, and as she paused I stepped forward and pushed her, hard, sending the skeleton fully inside the cage. Avoiding her attempts to escape I pushed the door in place, knowing that it could only be opened from the inside.
“Any time you are ready Mr. Menzies,” I shouted.
“Right-ho sir,” came a distant reply.
“The cage started to hum. I stepped back sharply as my hair stood on end and a blue spark jolted from the contraption to my fingertip.
“Inside the cage the skeleton thrashed wildly for several seconds, and I began to worry that she might get the door open with a chance blow. But as the hum grew stronger and the voltage reached maximum the struggles stopped. The dry bones fell with a loud clatter to the ground, once again inert.”
* * *
Carnacki sat back in his chair and smiled.
“It works. Gentlemen, my cage works. Maybe not quite as I intended it to, but you do see? I built the thing as a defence, an area where no vibrational entity could survive. I did not manage to send the thing back to the Outer Regions. But I did better than that... I destroyed it utterly. In negating its vibrations, I negated its energy. That dark thing will never again plague either the Microcosm or the Macrocosm. It is gone completely from creation.”
“But what about the site?” Jessop asked. “Are they back at work?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Carnacki said. “It will be a fine edifice when completed. As for the offending bones and casket, I have had them sent to the British Museum, for they are quite, quite, inert.
“Now out you go,” he said, and bundled us out into the night, already eagerly anticipating his next calling card.
The Beast of Glamis
I arrived at Cheyne Walk that Friday evening in response to a very welcome card from Carnacki. It had been several weeks since our last supper together, and I knew that Carnacki had not been at home for a fortnight at least. Such an absence told of an adventure and I admit to a certain degree of anticipation as he showed me in.
“So what is it this time old chap?” I asked as he took my overcoat. “A haunt or just another gang of criminals bent on deception?”
He smiled.
“Oh, there was certainly a degree of deception involved,” he said. “But never fear... it is a fine tale that will be a whole evening in the telling. I hope you have a full pouch of tobacco at hand.”
It was not long before Carnacki, Arkwright, Jessop, Taylor and I were all seated at Carnacki’s ample dining table. As ever he brooked no discussion as to why we had been asked to supper, and we all knew from long experience that he would not say a single word until the meal was over and he was good and ready.
At the table we exchanged cordialities, and Arkwright entertained us with his tales of the goings-on in the corridors of Westminster. Carnacki kept us waiting until we retired to the parlour and charged our glasses with some of his fine Scotch.
Jessop’s palate was the first to notice a new addition to Carnacki’s drinks cabinet.
“I say old man, isn’t this The Auld Fettercairn?”
Carnacki smiled.
“Indeed it is old chap. And thirty-five years old at that, one of only twenty bottles in existence. It was part of my payment for my recent sojourn. If you will all be seated, I shall tell you the tale as to how it was procured.”
* * *
“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 know 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 ageing. 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 Lisabeth 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 took 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 relight 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 defence 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 coloured 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 uncarpetted 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 like 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 the 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 Bhienn Sidhe, a portent of doom for the clan chief. 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 on a Scottish evening, but what set this one apart was the tracing of frost that ran across the i
nside 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 is 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.’
Carnacki: Heaven and Hell Page 10