The Eyeball Collector (11 page)

Read The Eyeball Collector Online

Authors: F. E. Higgins

BOOK: The Eyeball Collector
5.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘So, where are you two off to tonight?’ she asked.

‘To Withypitts Hall,’ said Hector.

Hector didn’t know if he had spoken particularly loudly or if perhaps he had chosen a moment when the room was particularly quiet, but as soon as the words left his mouth the entire room went silent.

‘It’s a strange sort of place for a young lad,’ remarked the old lady.

‘I hope to be employed by Lady Mandible for the Midwinter Feast,’ Hector explained. ‘But what is so strange about Withypitts Hall?’

‘Not so much the Hall,’ said Benjamin, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the bar, ‘as the inhabitants! The comings and goings from that place! Lady Mandible’s deliveries pass through the village all the time and you’ve never seen the like. A trunk fell from a cart once, split in two, and the contents scattered all over the road. Little statuettes and ornaments of hideous creatures. Stuffed animals – I couldn’t put a name to ’em – and bones, big and small. Now what would a lady want with such outlandish objects?’

All those listening murmured in agreement.

‘Off to Withypitts, eh?’ said a man, stepping out of the shadows. ‘I’ll tell you a story that’ll really make you think twice about going there.’

‘Very well,’ said Hector. ‘But I warn you, I am not easily swayed from my purpose.’

Neither, it seemed, was the man. He sat at the table and began.

‘My name is Oscar Carpue. I too hail from Urbs Umida and it was in that city I was framed, by my own father-in-law, for a murder I did not commit. I couldn’t risk waiting for the constables. I was a poor man, he was rich. What hope had I of proving my innocence? So I too fed, leaving my young son, Pin, behind, and I came to Pagus Parvus. I went back to find him as soon as I could risk it, but he was gone from our lodgings. How I miss him still.

‘As for Withypitts Hall, I hardly wish to return there either. We villagers pay little heed to the goings-on at that place. But we heard that Lord Mandible’s son married, and then soon after that old Lord Mandible himself died. More recently rumours reached us of a one-eyed man who had been taken on by Lady Mandible. When, a couple of weeks ago, a gleaming black carriage with scarlet blinds and three attendants rode into the village we knew this was the infamous Baron Bovrik de Vandolin.

‘He was seeking a carpenter and, as that is my trade, I went to Withypitts. It’s an odd place to behold, constructed from huge blocks of dark mountain rock with much decorative stonework. If you look for long enough you see that there are creatures hiding in the carvings: fierce griffins and hideous gargoyles. The porch pillars conceal lizards and snakes in their flowering capitals. It leaves you feeling that you are always observed.

‘I set to work immediately in the great dining hall, preparing it for the Midwinter Feast. My tasks were straightforward: repairing the panelled walls, securing loose floorboards, levelling the chairs. I saw hardly a soul in my time there, but above the sound of my lathe and hammer I often heard Lord Mandible and his two cats at the harpsichord.

‘One evening, just after the clock struck ten, I heard a great commotion from elsewhere in the building. I am as curious as the next man so I laid down my tools and followed the noise to the entrance hall where I saw a most peculiar sight. A party of men, huntsmen by their garb, was standing over a creature of some sort laid out on the marble floor. It was large and dark-haired with four limbs – what I would consider both legs
and
arms in the manner of an ape – and an enormous skull. Its smell was pungent, of rotting meat, as if it was already dead. But as I watched I saw its chest rise and fall. It moved suddenly and a huntsman stuck a dagger up to the hilt in its side. It moaned and turned its head and I swear it looked straight into my eyes. Even now I cannot describe to you how it made me feel.

‘I gathered from the conversation that the creature had been captured in the nearby oak forest. At first the men thought they were trailing a Hairy-Backed Hog. It was only when they shot and injured it that they realized they had something quite different. I wanted to step forward, to offer the creature some comfort, but then Bovrik and Lady Mandible suddenly appeared.

‘“It could be of scientific interest,” said one huntsman.

‘“We should keep it alive,” said another, “and send it to the City for examination.”

‘“Sell it to a freak show,” suggested a third.

‘Lady Mandible’s expression seemed to indicate that she thought little of these suggestions. “If it was captured in the forest, then it belongs to me,” she said, “so I will decide its fate.” And something about the tone of her voice and the way Bovrik’s lips curled into a sneering smile made my skin crawl. I crept away before I was discovered.

‘I finished the job as fast as I could. I desired now only to leave, and a week later I collected my money and departed. As I walked away down the hill a large cart came towards me, on the back of which was a wooden crate. The cart hit a pothole, narrowly avoiding overturning, but the crate slid sharply forward and one side few open. The driver, cursing loudly, jumped down to secure the load.

‘“For the Hall?” I asked as I went to help.

‘“Aye,” he replied. “And Lady Mandible will be right furious if it is damaged.”

‘With what I had heard and seen of the lady I was intrigued as to the crate’s contents so I pulled away the broken side to look within. Had I known what I was to see I would never have done so.

‘At first glance I saw only a chair. But I realized quickly that this was no ordinary chair.

‘It was the curious beast fashioned into a chair.

‘The arms of the chair were the beast’s arms, its hands – for they were not paws – curled over the ends. The chair legs were the beast’s forelegs and its feet – complete with toes – the chair’s feet. The creature’s skin was stretched over the seat and up the back and down again on the other side. The black fur was glossy and brushed all in the same direction. And, if I was still in any doubt, it was dispelled when I saw across the taut skin the scar of the huntsman’s dagger. Hardly able to breathe from shock and revulsion, I silently thanked the Lord there was no head, for my heaving stomach could not have borne that. I learned later that it had been mounted as a trophy.

‘I shall never forget the way that creature looked at me as he lay dying on the floor. For although it was not the face of a human I looked upon, I swear neither was its gaze that of a beast.’

 
      Part the Second      
The Hairy-Backed Forest Hog

The Hairy-Backed Forest Hog was given its name on account of the ridge of coarse black fur that runs the length of its spine. The legend goes that the Devil came up from Hell one day looking for a pig to roast. He wandered the vast oak forests that covered the land and just as night fell he came across a large hog rooting for nuts. Lacking a hunting spear the Devil threw his white-hot pitchfork at the hog in an attempt to kill it. His aim was off the mark and as the pitchfork fell a single tine grazed the hog’s back and set him on fire. The hog ran squealing to the river and immersed itself but the water was not deep enough to cover the creature fully and the hair along its back was scorched.

When the hair grew back it was thick and black from the hog’s neck to its tail and has been ever since.

The Hairy-Backed Forest Hog is found only in the ancient oak forest to the south-east of the Moiraean Mountains. These savage beasts mate for life and are fiercely protective of each other. The hog lives on a diet of acorns during the
late summer and autumn, supplementing them in winter with the fungus ‘Stipitis longi’, an underground mushroom which it sniffs out with its specially adapted nose.

It is noteworthy that the hog eats only the harmless head of the fungus, leaving the fatally poisonous stalk in the ground.’

From
Myths and Folklore, Flora and
Fauna of the Ancient Oak Forest
Various authors c.1652

 
Chapter Fourteen

      

Extract from

A Letter to Polly

Withypitts Hall

Dear Polly,

As I walk daily the maze-like corridors of Withypitts Hall, the smell of money is overpowering. The excess in which I now live, far greater than any I experienced in Urbs Umida, has to be seen to be believed.

I have always felt guilty that I left Fitch’s without saying goodbye to you or any of the others. But my urgency was spurred on by anger. I don’t know if you will ever read these letters. I address them to you, but in many ways I write them for myself. It helps to see it in black and white in front of me. It is my record, so when I look back on all of this I will know what I really felt and what drove me.

Father advised against revenge before he died. I know you would too, if you could. That is what you were counselling, that night in the kitchen. But I cannot agree. Baron Bovrik de Vandolin, under whatever guise or name, is a monster. Perhaps he did not deliver the fatal blow to my father, but I will always hold him responsible for his death. They hang at Gallows Corner for lesser crimes than his.

But enough! There is so much more to tell.

It was late by the time the carriage was fixed, so Solomon decided we would stay the night in Pagus Parvus, setting off again early the next day.

The old woman, Perigoe was her name, gave me another wink. ‘If you will go to Withypitts,’ she said, ‘then I ask a favour. I am a bookseller, you see, and I have an order of books for Lady Mandible. Young Sourdough, my delivery boy, refuses to set foot there again since he heard Oscar’s story.’

I consented readily and in return she offered me a room for the night.

For all my bravado and resolve I admit that I was unsettled by Oscar’s tale and happy to delay our departure. I followed her out on to the street. Her bookshop was not far and I was glad to get out of the cold. But as I shut the door behind me I thought I saw a movement from across the street. Was someone watching?

‘What is it?’ Perigoe asked.

I looked again but there was nothing. ‘Only a shadow,’ I said, but I wasn’t at all sure.

Perigoe’s hospitality was first rate and I would have spent a very comfortable night in her attic room if my dreams hadn’t been plagued with images of the beast.

Other books

The Drifter by Vicki Lewis Thompson
Deep Waters by Jayne Ann Krentz
My Big Fat Gay Life by Brett Kiellerop
Liberty by Stephen Coonts
The Value Of Rain by Shire, Brandon
Krewe of Hunters The Unholy by Graham, Heather
Melting Clock by Stuart M. Kaminsky
Rock Hard by LJ Vickery