BLACKDOWN (a thriller and murder mystery)

by D. M. Mitchell

  Robert Caldwell! Sarah Jones’ disappeared husband-to-be, thought Blackdown…

  With a scuffling sound the creature retreated over the straw to its corner. It sat there, only the whites of its eyes appearing to float in the blackness, caught by the light of the lamp. ‘He doesn’t like strangers, but with his handler he is as docile as a lamb.’

  His composure recovered, Blackdown stepped up to the window again. The creature gave a grunt of disapproval at the sight of his face but stayed in its place. ‘Is it a man?’ he asked.

  ‘Of sorts,’ Lansdowne returned. ‘He was discovered running wild in the forests of Kashmir. An aberration abandoned and left for dead by his mother, no doubt. He was captured by soldiers out hunting, fell into one of their traps along with a huge and vicious she-dog. One can only suppose the boy had been discovered by, and thereafter raised by, a pack of feral dogs, of which there are many in the region. Took him and his physical deformities for one of their own. I have heard many similar tales, but I have never come across such an example.

  ‘The she-dog was shot immediately, and the young man would have been similarly put down, but the hand that held the firearm was stayed with the argument that there was a profit to be made from their unholy catch. They built a cage and took him back to a local village where they paid for him to be kept, fed and watered until they decided what they should do with him. When he was first captured I am told the young man could not stand upright, but instead ran about on all fours. To this day he cannot rise properly to stand on two feet. He could not speak a word of any language, but instead growls and barks and roars like a wild animal. Sadly, in spite of attempts to get him to speak, using both reward and beatings, he cannot utter one word and never will. He was living so long with the pack that he is all but an animal himself, any humanity having been driven forever from him. He knows nothing of the civilised world. He doesn’t even understand the word God, let alone its concept. He is lost to humanity, a soulless and brutal nonentity that God abandoned from the moment of his wretched birth. I know not why I still call him a man, for he is so far removed from the likes of you and me.’

  ‘So you would have me believe. But I know of many men who are little more than animals.’

  ‘Do I detect pity in your voice for this poor unfortunate deviation from God’s plan? I should warn you that it is wasted upon him. He would rip you apart with scarce a blink. See how muscular he has become? Those limbs have torn apart bone and sinew in the wild, those teeth have ripped into raw flesh, those limbs have run tirelessly for miles through dense vegetation. A combination of the defects of his birth – the shape of his deformed body, the inordinate amount of hair, the propensity towards an inordinately muscular frame, combined with his savage upbringing, have conspired to produce a killer of savage intensity.’

  ‘Is this the creature that murdered my brother?’ Blackdown said quietly.

  ‘Need you ask? I should think that was self evident.’

  Blackdown’s jaw worked hard, but he restrained himself. He was in no position yet to seek his revenge. ‘So this is the connection to the ship Parthenope’, he said.

  ‘Well done, Thomas!’ enthused Lansdowne. ‘Yes, you are right.’

  ‘The creature somehow fell into the hands of Pettigrew’s brother, the ship’s captain, who secretly brought it over to England from India.’

  Lansdowne nodded. ‘Commodore Pettigrew, as he calls himself – though a man as far from a commodore as a cockerel from an orator – was very excited about it, from all accounts, and bought the creature for use in his travelling freak show. But it was an ill-fated venture from the start. The man is too strong, for one thing, and his short and brutal time amongst men has made him distrustful of them. To keep him under control was very difficult. Only one man, Harvey Grey, who was taken on by Pettigrew as a dog handler, could exercise even a modicum of control over him. It is a fact that he was the only person he initially responded to, and ironically a man of such base character at that.’ He shook his head. ‘But such is the world. Caldwell here displayed a natural talent for controlling the beast, and became Grey’s helper. Callisto, being the strongest amongst Pettigrew’s men, was also put in charge of helping control the freak when transporting him, and, later, in the delivery to us of… shall we call them unwilling participants?

  ‘But to his consternation, Pettigrew soon found out that he could not show the wolf-boy, as he so named him, alongside his other exhibits. He would not make him the fortune he dreamt about. The audiences, inured even as they were to the grosser deviations thrown up by travelling freaks shows, nevertheless were mightily repulsed by this debased creature. And when a handler was unfortunately mauled to death by him that might have been the end of him. There were calls for his immediate destruction. But word came to me indirectly of Pettigrew’s wolf-boy, and I knew that I had to have him for my own devices. I parted with quite a small fortune to secure him and the services of Harvey Grey for a time. Unfortunately, Harvey Grey got a little too greedy, making too many demands, and I replaced him with Robert Caldwell, a far better appointment, as it turned out. But Grey would not keep quiet, though he was paid handsomely to do so. When it looked like his tongue would flap a little too loose I had Grey silenced.’ He turned to Blackdown. ‘But you are an intelligent man, Thomas. I am sure you have worked many things out for yourself. Tell me why I needed the creature so.’

  Blackdown eyed the man, feeling his hackles rise at the man’s supreme self-confidence, but again tamped his anger down. He tightened his fists as he spoke.

  ‘Little more than to satisfy yours and your cronies’ bloodlust.’

  Lansdowne frowned. ‘Come, Thomas, it would be too dismissive and low as to call it merely bloodlust.’

  ‘It is a cockfight and no more. Dress it up as you will, your game is no nobler than that those hungry fools indulge in at Pettigrew’s, placing bets on two birds fighting it out to the death in a sanded circle. Except here you use real men who fight for their lives in the arena that is Devilbowl Wood, pitted unarmed against a creature so strong, so foul and monstrous and suited to hunting in the forest that they can never hope to win.’

  Lansdowne clapped his hands together softly. ‘Well done! You are indeed astute, as I have been informed. Yes, Devilbowl Wood has become the perfect arena, Romanesque, you might say, in its concept and grandeur. Gladiators pitted against the wild beast for the gratification of an appreciative audience.’

  ‘And in the place of gladiators you use soldiers…’

  ‘When we can get them. They do make the best opponents and prolong proceedings somewhat. And we do have a surfeit of them, over a quarter of a million ex-soldiers home from the wars.’

  He knew the other man who had been in the cell with Callisto and himself had to be another unfortunate ex-soldier from Pettigrew’s retinue. ‘Pettigrew recruits them on his travels throughout England,’ he said, ‘and then when his travelling show reaches the town of Blackdown some of them inexplicably disappear.’

  ‘Only the most able and best amongst them,’ Lansdowne cut in, ‘for I have members who do not wish to be disappointed by a bad Meet.’

  ‘Yet no one can ever be allowed to live that takes part, can they?’ Blackdown said coldly. ‘Every year you encircle the bowl of the wood with mantraps and post sentries all around its perimeter. I have already explored this so-called arena for myself, Lansdowne. I have seen the trees cut down at regular intervals on the ridge in order to afford greater visibility by those that come to place bets on proceedings. I have seen how even if a man were to escape the creature you send after them, they have to avoid both the mantraps and your armed guards, who, I suspect are instructed to kill anyone who might emerge unscathed. Whoever enters the arena will die. This is one bird that will never live to fight another day.’

  Lansdowne smiled broadly. ‘Again I am impressed by your agile mind, Blackdown. So different from those numbskulls your father looked after on your crumbling estate. They are so afraid of the legen
d of the Blackdown Beast, especially at this time of year, that no one dares enter or even come close to Devilbowl Wood. And we use this and the ludicrous burning of the effigy ceremony and its attendant fuss to cover our own sport. Of course, every now and again they need a gruesome reminder to stay clear.’

  ‘Like the murder of my brother,’ Blackdown mouthed, ‘who stumbled upon the purpose of your so-called club and had to be silenced.’

  ‘And the odd-slaughtered sheep, but a dead man, you have to admit, is a rather better deterrent.’

  ‘I’m going to kill you, Lansdowne,’ he said evenly, almost without emotion.

  ‘No you are not,’ he replied. ‘I hold all the cards. Cards which might yet fall in your favour.’ He nodded at the door. ‘You might not have to suffer the fate of your two companions if you agree to help us.’

  ‘Us? And who exactly is this us? The Lupercal Club?’

  ‘You speak of it with so little regard, Thomas, almost as if you want to roll it around your mouth and spit it out, but you do not know of its power, its potential, its future. The Meet – Devilbowl Wood – that is merely an annual distraction for some of its members. One reward among many. The promise of excitement, huge sums of money changing hands, fine wines and fine food, the lure of attractive female company willing to do anything they so desire. It is a promise of the riches to come for those who take part in the great and noble adventure that will release us from the shackles of tyranny which governs this blighted country.’

  It was Blackdown’s turn to give a chuckle, though it was devoid of humour. ‘Are you talking about revolution?’

  Lansdowne’s face was deadly serious. ‘Is that so unreasonable?’

  ‘Perhaps when the revolution in France took place we almost stumbled into it as a nation, but with Napoleon once more behind bars and the long a bloody war ended, it seems unlikely that the people have the stomach for it.’

  ‘You think so?’ said Lansdowne. ‘The country has never been more ready. The people are primed. We are led by a mad king and the repulsive Prince Regent, who squanders taxpayers’ money for his own ends. The Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool, fears revolution more than any. The policies coming out of his Government are repressive because as a whole his ministers fear just such a revolution. The wealthy landed class dominate the Houses of Parliament, bolstering their own interests above those of the common man. They are the ones who secure their own interests by passing such as the Corn Laws that starve the people of this land and throw them into a rebellious state; they are the ones who come down with a heavy hand on anyone who cares to stand up for what they believe are their moral rights, who fight for a political voice; they are the ones who dominate political power, who continue to make the inequitable laws that govern this black-hearted country.’

  ‘I fought for this country,’ said Blackdown. ‘I fought for it because I believe in it. You are talking treason and will be hanged for it.’

  ‘I made my fortune out of industry. Out of mining. Yet my fortune matters not, for I still fight to be accepted as a gentleman in a country of aristocratic squires. Industry is the future, but our progress is being blockaded by a powerful minority that has its roots in a medieval past, whose grip it is time to loosen.’

  Blackdown smiled wryly. ‘So this is about power and money – your power and your money – not the rights of the common man. You see an opportunity to make a considerable fortune, little more, replacing one set of soulless autocrats with another.’

  ‘It is true. Personally, I don’t care about the common man. In truth they are a means to an end. And do not be foolish enough to think I am alone in this affair. The Lupercal Club is made up of some of the most powerful men in the country and headed by a genius who will free us from the shackles of the current system and help us set up a new republic.’

  ‘Ravenbard,’ said Blackdown.

  Lansdowne’s brow lifted fractionally. ‘So you have heard of him. Yes, Ravenbard.’

  ‘And who exactly is this Ravenbard? A new Napoleon?’ Blackdown scoffed. ‘Look what happened to the last one. I caught sight of the Scourge of Europe in captivity on the deck of His Majesty’s ship Bellerophon, cutting a sad figure and being stared at by hoards of people who paid to be rowed out to the ship to view him like he was a wild animal.’

  ‘Napoleon bit off more than he could chew,’ Lansdowne said dismissively. ‘His Russian invasion was gross folly, for one thing. He brought about his own downfall. One can learn from another’s mistakes. We are not after European domination like our fat little Corsican. Ruling Great Britain and its colonies will be a good start. The war has resulted in the strengthening of our navy. God bless Nelson and his tribe, for we already have world domination in our hands because of it. We plan to leave Europe to its age-old squabbles and concentrate on the new wealth and power provided by our expanding empire.’ He regarded Blackdown. ‘You can be part of this, Thomas. You needn’t die tonight. We need men like you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ravenbard asked it personally.’

  ‘Ravenbard knows of me?’

  ‘He knows many things, Thomas. If you join us you will become a man wealthier and more powerful than you could ever dream of. He has such a vision, and believes in it so completely, that we all feel sure he will deliver it for us.’ Lansdowne removed a black card from his pocket. ‘The Lupercal Club – do you know from where it derives its name?’ He turned the card over, looking at the embossed image of the she-wolf.

  Blackdown nodded. ‘There is a bronze statue, believed to be the earliest representation of Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, being suckled by a wolf. It was found in the Lupercal caves, so named after its discovery.’

  Lansdowne nodded. ‘I’m impressed. You are not simply a soldier but prove to be an educated man. That is correct. This image represents that bronze statue, though you notice the two boys are missing. Ravenbard sees himself as the next great founder of a new country, a new dynasty and empire that will last thousands of years. The she-wolf is his symbol, and what better way to underline that than the Romanesque games played out in Devilbowl Wood? It may be interpreted as a Roman arena presided over by our emperor-to-be. And we find it symbolic, ironic and even amusing, that the symbol of the wolf is repeated in the beast that stalks the arena.’ He nodded at the door again as if to emphasise the point.

  Blackdown shook his head. ‘It’s madness. There can be no revolution.’

  ‘No? You underestimate our membership. We are poised any week now to strike, to overthrow the Government and begin our takeover of the country. We have weapons, men ready to rise at our signal. Ireland will be the vanguard. You can be a part of that, at the invitation of Ravenbard himself, or you can decline and face the arena. The choice is yours, but I ask you to consider this proposal most carefully. It will not be offered again.’

  Blackdown hobbled towards the corridor’s exit. ‘I don’t need time to consider. I refuse to be a part of this infamy. I would rather die first than betray my country. You may think you can blackmail and threaten people into submission, but it won’t work on me.’

  Lansdowne shrugged. ‘Why, Thomas? Why do defend your country so? A country that has so cruelly thrown you onto a rubbish heap with the rest of its used soldiers.’

  Blackdown turned. ‘It is my country.’

  ‘I know all about you, Thomas. I know, for instance, that you were dishonourably discharged from the army because you killed a fellow officer in a duel in Brussels soon after hostilities ceased. An officer who slandered your father and your family name, calling you both spies. You came home knowing full well what had been happening to your father, for you narrowly escaped prison and death because the ripples of his troubles reached out to encompass you. You may occasionally wear the uniform of a captain, but in reality you are reduced to the role of thieftaker, seeking out and bringing petty criminals to justice in order to earn a living. Did you think you could keep such a truth hidden forever, Thomas? Is this really the life expected of a gentleman of noble bir
th?’

  Blackdown’s eyes narrowed. ‘We have no choice over our destinies. I take what is given to me.’

  Lansdowne laughed. ‘How pitifully noble! But I disagree, for there you are wrong, man – so very wrong.’ He stepped closer to Blackdown, his hands held out in front of him. ‘Now is the time to grasp the opportunity presented to you. Now is the time to black the eye of the very people who dishonoured you, who caused you to sink to such low depths. It is time for your revenge.’

  ‘You forget that I am born of the very people you find so disagreeable.’

  ‘And yet with your links all but severed. Even your father has disowned you. But you would be very useful to us,’ said Lansdowne.

  ‘I’d rather die a beggar in the imperfect land we have than live as a Lord in a violent, bloody new republic after the fashion of the French.’

  Lansdowne sighed. ‘So be it, Thomas. Die you shall, if that’s what you wish.’ He signalled for the men to come back inside and take hold of Blackdown.

  ‘I’m going to get out of this, Lansdowne,’ he said, ‘and when I do I’m going to make you pay for what you have done. It has been clear to me for some time now. I know you are the one behind the false papers purporting to my father’s guilt as a French spy, accusations that would help bring about his downfall and the gradual dismantling of the Blackdown lands; lands that have since been bought up through the blackmailed Lord Tresham on behalf of your beloved Ravenbard.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right, perhaps you are not, it is a moot point now anyway,’ he replied.

  ‘And you had my brother killed. And for that fact alone I shall kill you, Lansdowne. Make no mistake.’

  He grinned in response. ‘See? I am quaking in my boots, Thomas. Take him away,’ he ordered the men, ‘and prepare him for the parade.’ He saw Blackdown’s confused expression. ‘Before you all enter the arena you must be paraded before those who will place their bets on the outcome, who will wager upon which man will make it the furthest or last the longest. Like two cocks being held up to an appreciative crowd before they are set to fight, you will be displayed before those who will witness your death and derive much pleasure from it. Time to say goodbye to our little furry friend behind these bars, Thomas, but worry not, you will be meeting him again shortly. I am afraid it will be for the last time.’