The Digger's Rest (41 page)

***

Michelle had just finished fixing her hair
and reapplying her after lunch make-up when the phone rang. “Mr.
Bramson’s office,” she answered professionally.

“
Michelle, it’s Bobby Kinsella. Is Mr.
Bramson available?”

“
Hello, Bobby,” she sparkled. “No, he’s
not here right now. Can I take a message?”

“
Sure, but make sure he gets it as soon
as possible. It’s important. You get me?” he stressed through the
phone.

“
Yes, I gotcha, Bobby,” she said
smiling and thinking,
“Not yet I haven’t
but I will. You can count on that!
as she got her pad
and pen ready. “Go ahead, I’m ready for you.”

“
Tell Mr. Bramson that I found him.
He’ll know what that means, and that he’s in England, somewhere in
the southwest called Exeter. I’ll be sending the details by
courier. Also tell him that Edgeworth is very sick. He’ll know what
that means, too. You got that?”

“
Yes, Bobby. I got it, so when are you
coming by again?” she said flirtatiously.

“
I should be by sometime in the next
week to pick up my check. Think you’ll be free for lunch?” he
asked, finally picking up on her meaning.

“
I’ll make sure of it,” she said
remembering what beautiful indigo eyes and thick black lashes he
had.

Chapter XIX

INHUMAN NATURE

Sleight of hand and twist of fate, On a bed
of nails she makes me wait, and I wait without you.

With or without you. With or without you. .
.

My hands are tied. My body bruised, She's
got me with

nothing to lose.

With or Without You

………
As performed by U2

. . . when she saw the greatness of his
corruption, became strong in her husks, and came to Adam against
his will, and became hot from him and bore him many demons and
spirits. . .

Patai 81:455f

The old man rolled the tapestry out further,
revealing another panel. The scene was of the elder Lord Revelstoke
consulting with priests, but there were other figures present,
dressed in sack cloth, some bearing arms, some bearing holly
branches and words; ‘Ilex verticillata.’ Simon looked up at the old
man.

“
Holly?”

“
Yes, ‘tis one of my peoples’ strongest
symbols. ‘Tis the symbol for ‘man.’ They are my people,” the old
man said pointing to the figures in sack cloth.

“
Who are they?”

“
My people have been on these islands
for thousands of years, longer than history. They built Stonehenge
and many other ritual sites like it, now long gone,” the old man
said, his tiny black eyes shining with life again. “Our God is not
one thou wouldst recognize, for they are many or they are one who
is faceted to appear as many, like a finely cut precious gem. We
have since come to believe that it is the same God as that of the
Hebrews who chose to show himself differently to us because we are
not desert people like the Hebrews. We are people of the green
earth, of the grass and the trees, of everything that grows and
gives us life as I have shown thee. For thousands of years we have
kept apart from the world. Some have assimilated into it,
forgetting or abandoning the old ways. We kept apart from the
Romans and survived. Later we kept apart from the Christians too,
until she came and we were forced to join with them for both our
survivals,” and he rolled out the scroll more and pointed to the
next scene.

The next scene was of men in the armor of the
time, bearing banners of the church and walking in line with the
shaggy men in sack cloth, all led towards the gates of the castle
by the elder Lord Revelstoke. In the background the she-creature
lay in her bed, swollen in her belly, the words, ‘Diabolus
gravid…pregnant devil’ sewn under her. Outside her door guarding
her, was a tremendous brown wolf, his long, sharp fangs bared with
the words ‘daemon lupu’” sewn under it, and an enormous green
serpent with two long fangs bared and the words ‘daemon
serpentis.’

The rest of the castle was littered
with dead bodies, festering and rotted with boils and sores, among
them were the Lady of the castle, the young Lord Eadwyn and his
page, Peter. Under his image was sewn the word ‘fidelis,…faithful.’
Simon’s mouth dropped open. He looked back to the old man.
“Dost thou see?”
the old man asked,
arching his eyebrows. Simon did see. He thought of Malcolm and
Deck, and understood.

“
Aye,” the old man said, nodding. “She
hath drawn them there,” and he rolled out the next panel. It was of
the men storming the castle; the wolf was attacking one of them.
The scene showed the man, in armor, running the beast through with
his sword as a man in sack cloth shoved a holly branch, long end
sharpened to a point, down the beast’s throat. As the knights went
deeper into the castle, some began to fall with boils and sores,
but as the men in sack cloth passed, they seemed to rise and
recover.

The next panel showed the men approaching the
door behind which the she-creature lay, large with child. The
serpent had wrapped itself around one man and had another in its
jaws, a knight had just severed its head and a man in sack cloth
had just speared it through the top of the head with another
sharpened holly branch while the other men were ramming the door
with a battering ram.

***

In New York, Jack kissed Alida good bye, her
eyes filling with tears. “He’s in trouble, Alida. I know it in my
heart with all that’s ever made me a man. He needs me,” he said as
he wrapped his arms around her. She nodded that she understood. In
her culture, she knew these things were real and true. The best she
could do for him was to prepare him for the journey with his
medication and the Lucero charm she’d bought at the shop in her old
neighborhood and had sewn into the lining of his jacket for
protection without him knowing it.

***

In Boston, Julian Bramson the third was
presenting his first-class ticket to London to the boarding agent
at the gate. There was no one there to see him off.

***

The next panel portrayed the she-creature in
the throes of child birth just as the men were about to break
through the door. The next showed her standing on the bed, haunches
set to spring, clutching a demon child to her breast with one of
her four arms, her wings spread, set to take flight, baring her
rows of sharp teeth at the men as they rushed through the door.

The next panel showed her hovering
above the bed and one of the sack cloth men charging her with the
longest of the holly spears, running it through the demon child in
its mother’s arms and straight through the demon herself, front to
back; the expression etched on her face by the stitching of the
tapestry making it more horrific than anything Simon could have
ever imagined. It was as if he could almost hear her screaming an
ear-shattering high pitched scream of anguish, both for the death
of her child and for her own physical pain. Simon trembled from the
emotional and physical impact of it. The old man took his hand
again.
“Steady, boy,”
he
said.
“Drink,”
and handed him
another cup of his strong smelling tea.

The next panel showed the men binding the
creature and her child in boughs of holly, carrying her to the main
hall and setting fire to the corpses along with the castle itself
as they went along back toward the tower gate. The next panel
showed the burnt ruins of the castle and men hiding in the brush
around it while a group of women, dressed in all manner of
clothing, from the highest born to the lowest, making what seemed
to be a grave stone over the burned bones of the creature and her
child, under their image was the word ‘Lamia’,…witch.

The next showed the men jumping out of the
brush and slaying the women, tossing their bodies on a pile and
setting fire to them. The final panel showed the men, again some in
armor, some in sack cloth, and some in clerical dress pulling the
large, heavy Celtic stone cross to the site and standing it upright
on the spot where the women had put the gravestone over the bodies.
The only words Simon could make out were, ‘Never rise.’

The tableau of the tapestry revealed, Simon
looked back to the old man. “Dost thou see?” the old man asked him.
Simon wasn’t sure.

“
Either she called him or he disturbed
her when he came, or maybe it is just her time to rise, almost a
thousand years since she first came to this land, but no matter. No
one could have ever known he would have brought thee,” the old man
said, shining with proud determination.

“
Me?” Simon said, drawing back in
surprise.

“
I have kept vigil over this land for
over one hundred years, as my father did before him and his father
before him and so on since she first came. Now we have
thee.”

Simon’s poor head started to swim from it
all. “What does she want?” Simon asked, deep inside afraid to know
the answer. The old man pointed to the tapestry, to the panel
showing the she creature, her belly swollen with child.

“
She wants him,” the old man said. The
color drained from Simon’s face, his pupils dilated and his lids
fluttered as he fell backwards into blackness, fainted.

***

Back in his bed at the inn, Simon woke to the
thunderous sound of stomping footsteps and screaming, horrible
terror-filled cries. It was dark and he was afraid. He felt a heavy
load land on the bed next to him and opened his eyes. It was his
mother, her gaunt face leering at him, her throat slashed open.
“Run, Simon, run and hide now!” she cried and pushed him off the
bed. He crawled under the bed, pulling himself up into a ball in
the far corner; another shrieking, shrill death cry, then silence.
Feeling four years old again, too petrified to move, unable to cry
out, he just stayed there hoping someone would come along and help
him.

He didn’t have to wait long, a few minutes
later, he saw the bed skirt move, a hand pulling it up slowly, then
a voice.

“
Simon,” it called out to him under the
bed. He pulled himself more tightly into a ball at first. “Simon,
don’t be afraid. It’s me.” The bed skirt rose higher, a face
peering under it, barely visible in the darkness. He saw the
outline of the dark clothes and the headdress. “It’s me, Simon,”
she said, reaching her hand underneath the bed to try and touch
him. He could see her face then, out of the shadows; Sister Mary
Immaculata.

“
I want to talk to you, Simon. I think
I’ve made a terrible mistake in letting you go with that Dr.
Bramson,” she whispered. “Has he touched you, Simon? In your
private places?”

“
No, never!” Simon said to her, shocked
out of his paralysis.

“
Has he ever made you touch him?” she
whispered.

“
No!”

“
But you want him to, don’t you?” she
whispered, laughing and grabbed him by the leg, pulling him out.
She drew back her head and she wasn’t Sister Mary
anymore.

She was his mother again, “I’m sorry I had to
leave you, Simon, but I’m back now and I’m going to take you home,”
she said, the sound of her voice gurgling through the slash in her
throat.

“
No!” Simon cried out, struggling to
free himself from her grip. “Let me go. Let me go!”

Her face changed. She was Sister Mary again,
tipping over the bed, pulling him out. “Dirty, filthy man touching
my Simon. It’s all my fault. I’m taking you back home,” she raged,
dragging him kicking and screaming across the floor toward the
window. “No! Please. I don’t want to go. Help! Dr. Bramson! Help
me!”

He remembered the amulet around his
neck and grabbed it with his hand, clutching it.
“Help!”
he screamed with his
soundless voice. He felt in his pocket for the little black bird.
He grabbed it and held it tight, screaming again in his soundless
voice.
“Heeeellllppppp!”

Shadows came up behind Sister Mary in the
moonlight. “Be gone, unclean thing!” the old man shouted at Sister
Mary.

From the other side; another voice; “Be gone
unclean thing!” Gayle shouted. The Sister Mary thing released
Simon’s leg and turned to them, spewing an incantation of her own
in a language Simon didn’t understand.

Amos and Gayle took each other’s hand and
reached out for Simon’s. He took them, creating a ring around the
Sister Mary thing. “What is thy true name, foul demon? Speak so
that we should know thee,” the old man shouted. The Sister Mary
thing changed again, back to Simon’s mother.

“
My name is Lydia Holly.”

“
Liar!” Gayle screamed.
“Liar!”

“
Tell me thy true name demon so that we
may know thee,” the old man commanded. The Lydia thing changed
again, back into the nun. “Sister Mary Immaculata,” she
said.

“
Liar, liar!” the old man shouted. Then
she changed again, howling as if she were in pain. She had many
arms, hair that seemed to move, and things Simon couldn’t see
growing out of her body. “Do not break the circle!” the old man
shouted.

Simon called to her. “Tell me thy true name
foul demon so that we may know thee.” The demon started cursing at
Simon in French and German, English and Russian, and languages
Simon couldn’t begin to understand. He shouted back loudly,
demanding a response “What is thy true name?”