As she was speaking, the sound of the dinner gong rang through the house.
“I hope,” she continued, “that you will be able to eat something, although I know you must be conscious of the labors and excitement of the coming night.”
Erasmus Darwin regarded her with astonishment. “Something? Mrs. Thaxton, I have awaited the dinner bell for the past hour, with the liveliest anticipation. I am famished. Pray, lead the way. We can discuss our preparations further while we dine.”
* * *
“We should have brought a timepiece with us, Erasmus. I wonder what the time is. We must have been here three or four hours already.”
“A little after midnight, if the moon is keeping to her usual schedule. Are you warm enough?”
“Not too bad. Thank God for these blankets. It’s colder than a witch’s tit up here. How much longer? Suppose they don’t put in an appearance at all? Or the weather changes! It’s already beginning to cloud up a little.”
“Then we’ll have struggled up here and been half frozen for nothing. We could never track them with no moon. We’d kill ourselves, walking the fell blind.”
The two men were squatted on the hillside, facing southwest toward Heartsease.
They were swaddled in heavy woollen blankets, and their exhaled breath rose white before them. In the moonlight they could clearly see the village of Milburn, far below, etched in black and silver. The Thaxton house stood apart from the rest, lamps showing in the lower rooms but completely dark above. Between Darwin and Pole sat two shielded oil lanterns. Unless the side shutters were unhooked and opened, the lanterns were visible only from directly above.
“It’s a good thing we can see the house without needing any sort of spyglass,” said Pole, slipping his brass brandy flask back into his coat after a substantial swig. “Holding it steady for a long time when it’s as cold as this would be no joke. If there are fiends living up here, they’ll need a fair stock of Hell-fire with them, just to keep from freezing. Damn those clouds.”
He looked up again at the moon, showing now through broken streaks of cover. As he did so, he felt Darwin’s touch on his arm.
“There it is, Jacob!” he breathed. “In the bedroom. Now, watch for the signal.”
They waited, tense and alert, as the light in the window dimmed, returned, and dimmed again. After a longer absence, it came back once more, then remained bright.
“In the usual place, where Anna hoped they might be,” said Darwin. “Show our lantern, to let Thaxton know we’ve understood their signal. Then let’s be off, while the moon lights the way.”
The path skirting the tor was narrow and rocky, picked out precariously between steep screes and jagged outcroppings. Moving cautiously and quietly, they tried to watch both their footing and the fell ahead of them. Jacob Pole, leading the way, suddenly stopped.
“There they are,” he said softly.
Three hundred yards ahead, where the rolling cloud bank of the Helm dipped lower to meet the broken slope of the scarp face, four yellow torches flickered and bobbed. Close to each one, bigger and more diffuse, moved a blue-green phosphorescent glow.
The two men edged closer. The blue-green glow gradually resolved itself to squat, misshapen forms, humanoid but strangely incomplete. “Erasmus,” whispered Jacob. “They are headless!”
“I think not,” came the soft answer. “Watch closely, when the torches are close to their bodies. You can see that the torch light reflects from their heads—but there is no blue light shining there. Their bodies alone are outlined by it.” As he spoke, a despairing animal scream echoed over the fell. Jacob Pole gripped Darwin’s arm fiercely.
“Sheep,” said Darwin tersely. “Throat cut. That bubbling cry is blood in the windpipe. Keep moving toward them, Jacob. I want to get a good look at them.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Pole again began to move slowly forward. But now the lights were retreating steadily uphill, back toward the shrouding cloud bank of the Helm.
“Faster, Jacob. We’ve got to keep them in sight and be close to them before they go into the cloud. The light from their torches won’t carry more than a few yards in that.”
Darwin’s weight was beginning to take its toll. He fell behind, puffing and grunting, as Pole’s lanky figure loped rapidly ahead, around the tor and up the steep slope. He paused once and looked about him, then was off uphill again, into the moving fog at the edge of the Helm. Darwin, arriving at last at the same spot, could see no sign of him. Chest heaving, he stopped to catch his breath.
“It’s no good.” Pole’s voice came like a disembodied spirit, over from the left of the hillside. A second later he suddenly emerged from the cloud bank. “They vanished into thin air, right about here. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I can’t understand how they could have gone so fast. The cloud isn’t so thick here. Maybe they can turn to air.”
Darwin sat down heavily on a flat-topped rock. “More likely they snuffed their torches.”
“But then I’d still have seen the body-glow.”
“So let’s risk the use of the lanterns, and have a good look around here. There should be some trace of them. It’s a long way back to Heartsease, and I don’t fancy this climb again tomorrow night.”
They opened the shutters of the lanterns and moved cautiously about the hillside. Darwin knew that the Thaxtons would be watching from Heartsease, and puzzling over what they had seen. He interrupted his search long enough to send a signal: four lantern flashes—all goes well.
“Here’s the answer.” Jacob Pole had halted fifty feet away, in the very fringe of the Helm. “I ought to have guessed it, after the talk that Thaxton and I had earlier. He told me yesterday that there are old workings all over this area. Lead, this one, or maybe tin.”
The mine shaft was set almost horizontally into the hillside, a rough-walled tunnel just tall enough for a crouching man. Darwin stooped to look at the rock fragments inside the entrance.
“It’s lead,” he said, holding the lantern low. “See, this is galena, and this is blue fluorspar—the same Blue John that we find back in Derbyshire. And here is a lump of what I take to be barytes—heavy spar. Feel the weight of it. There have been lead mines up here on the fells for two thousand years, since before the Romans came to Britain, but I thought they were all in disuse now. Most of them are miles north and east of this.”
“I doubt that this one is being used for lead mining,” replied Jacob Pole. “And I doubt if the creatures that we saw are lead miners. Maybe it’s my malaria, playing up again because it’s so cold here.” He shivered all over. “But I’ve got a feeling of evil when I look in that shaft. You know the old saying: iron bars are forged on Earth, gold bars are forged in Hell. That’s the way to the treasure, in there. I know it.”
“Jacob, you’re too romantic. You see four poachers killing a sheep, and you have visions of a treasure trove. What makes you think that the Treasure of Odirex is gold?”
“It’s the natural assumption. What else would it be?”
“I could speculate. But I will wager it is not gold. That wouldn’t have served to get rid of the Romans, or any invader. Remember the Danegeld—that didn’t work, did it?”
As he spoke, he was craning forward into the tunnel, the lantern held out ahead of him.
“No sign of them in here.” He sniffed. “But this is the way they went. Smell the resin? That’s from their torches. Well, I suppose that is all for tonight. Come on, we’d best begin the descent back to the house. It is a pity we cannot go farther now.”
“Descent to the house? Of course we can follow them, Erasmus. That’s what we came for, isn’t it?”
“Surely. But on the surface of the fell, not through pit tunnels. We lack ropes and markers. But now that we know exactly where to begin, our task is easy. We can return here tomorrow with men and equipment, by daylight—perhaps we can even bring a tracking hound. All we need to do now is to leave a marker here, that can be seen easily when we c
ome here again.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Pole shrugged, and turned disconsolately for another look at the tunnel entrance. “Damn it, Erasmus, I’d like to go in there, evil or no evil. I hate to get this far and then turn tail.”
“If the Treasure of Odirex is in there, it has waited for you for fifteen hundred years. It can wait another day. Let us begin the descent.”
They retraced their steps, Jacob very reluctantly, to the downward path. In a few dozen paces they were clear of the fringes of the Helm. And there they stopped. While they had examined the entrance to the mine, the cloud cover had increased rapidly. Instead of seeing a moon shining strongly through light, broken clumps, they were limited to occasional fleeting glimpses through an almost continuous mass of clouds.
Jacob Pole shrugged, and looked slyly at Darwin. “This is bad, Erasmus. We can’t go down in this light. It would be suicide. How long is it until dawn?”
“Nearly four hours, at a guess. It’s bad luck, but we are only a week from winter solstice. There’s nothing else for it, we must settle down here and make the best of it, until dawn comes and we have enough light to make a safe descent.”
“Aye, you’re right.” Jacob Pole turned and looked thoughtfully back up the hill. “Since we’re stuck here for hours, Erasmus, wouldn’t it make sense to use the time, and take a quick look inside the entrance of the mine? After all, we do have the lanterns—and it may well be warmer inside.”
“—or drier, or any other of fifty reasons you could find for me, eh?” Darwin held his lantern up to Pole’s face, studying the eyes and the set of the mouth. He sighed. “I don’t know if you’re shivering with excitement or malaria, but you need warmth and rest. I wonder now about the wisdom of this excursion. All right. Let us go back up to the mine, on two conditions: we descend again to Heartsease at first light, and we take no risks of becoming lost in the mine.”
“I’ve been in a hundred mines, all over the world, and I have yet to get lost in one. Let me go first. I know how to spot weak places in the supports.”
“Aye. And if there’s treasure to be found—which I doubt—I’d not be the one to deprive you of the first look.”
Jacob Pole smiled. He placed one lantern on the ground, unshuttered. “Let this stay here, so Richard and Anna can see it. Remember, we promised to signal them every three hours that all is well. Now, let’s go to it—fiends or no fiends.” He turned to begin the climb back to the abandoned mine. As he did so, Darwin caught the expression on his face. He was nervous and pale, but in his eyes was the look of a small child approaching the door of a toy shop.
* * *
On a second inspection, made this time with the knowledge that they would be entering and exploring it, the mine tunnel looked much narrower and the walls less secure. Jacob, lantern partially shuttered to send a narrow beam forward, led the way. They went cautiously into the interior of the shaft. After a slight initial upward slant, the tunnel began to curve down, into the heart of the hill. The walls and roof were damp to the touch, and every few yards small rivulets of water ran steadily down the walls, glistening like a layer of ice in the light of the lantern.
Thirty paces on, they came to a branch in the tunnel. Jacob Pole bent low and studied the uneven floor.
“Left, I think,” he whispered. “What will we do if we meet the things that live here?”
“You should have asked that question before we set out,” replied Darwin softly. “As for me, that is exactly what I am here for. I am less interested in any treasure.”
Jacob Pole stopped, and turned in the narrow tunnel. “Erasmus, you never cease to amaze me. I know what drives me on, what makes me willing to come into a place like this at the devil’s dancing-hour. And I know that I’m in a cold sweat of fear and anticipation. But why aren’t you terrified? Don’t you think a meeting with the fiends would carry great danger for us?”
“Less danger than you fear. I assume that these creatures, like ourselves, are of natural origin. If I am wrong on that, my whole view of the world is wrong. Now, these fiends hide on the fell, and they come out only at night. There are no tales that say they kill people, or capture them. So I believe that they fear us—far more than we fear them.”
“Speak for yourself,” muttered Pole.
“Remember,” Darwin swept on, “when there is a struggle for living space, the stronger and fiercer animals drive out the weaker and more gentle—who then must perforce inhabit a less desirable habitat if they are to survive. For example, look at the history of the tribes that conquered Britain. In each case—”
“Sweet Christ!” Jacob Pole looked round him nervously. “Not a lecture, Erasmus. This isn’t the time or the place for it. And not so loud! I’ll take the history lesson some other time.”
He turned his back and led the way into the left branch of the tunnel. Darwin sniffed, then followed. He was almost fat enough to block the tunnel completely, and had to walk very carefully. After a few steps he stopped again and looked closely at a part of the tunnel wall that had been shored up with rough timbers.
“Jacob, bring the light back for a moment, would you? This working has been used recently—new wood in some of the braces. And look at this.”
“Sheep wool, caught on the splintered wood here. It’s still dry. We’re on the correct path all right. Keep going.”
“Aye. But what now?”
Pole pointed the beam from the lantern ahead, to where the tunnel broadened into a domed chamber with a smooth floor. They walked forward together. At the other side of the chamber was a deep crevasse. Across it, leading to a dark opening on the other side, ran a bridge of rope guides and wooden planks, secured by heavy timbers buttressed between floor and ceiling. Pole shone his lantern across the gap, into the tunnel on the other side, but there was nothing to be seen there. They walked together to the edge.
“It looks sturdy enough. What do you think, Erasmus?”
“I think we have gone far enough. It would be foolhardy to risk a crossing. What lies below?”
Pole swung the lantern to throw the beam downward. The pit was steep sided. About eight feet below the brink lay black, silent water, its surface smooth and unrippled. To right and left, the drowned chasm continued as far as the lantern beam would carry. Pole swung the light back to the bridge, inspecting the timbers and supporting ropes.
“Seems solid to me. Why don’t I take a quick look at the other side, while you hold the lantern.”
Darwin did not reply at once. He was staring down into the crevasse, a puzzled frown on his heavy face.
“Jacob, cover the lantern for a moment. I think I can see something down there, like a faint shining.”
“Like gold?” The voice was hopeful. Pole shuttered the lantern and they stared in silence into the darkness. After a few moments, it became more visible to them. An eerie, blue-green glow lit the pit below, beginning about three feet below the lip and continuing to the water beneath. As their eyes adjusted, they began to see a faint pattern to the light.
“Jacob, it’s growing there. It must be a moss, or a fungus. Or am I going blind?”
“It’s a growth. But how can a living thing glow like that?”
“Some fungi shine in the dark, and so do some animals—glowworms, and fireflies. But I never heard of anything like this growth. It’s in regular lines—as though it had been set out purposely, to provide light at the bridge. Jacob, I must have a sample of that!”
In the excited tone of voice, Pole recognized echoes of his own feelings when he thought about hunting for treasure. Darwin knelt on the rocky floor, then laboriously lowered himself at full length by the side of the chasm.
“Here, let me do that, Erasmus. You’re not built for it.”
“No. I can get it. You know, this is the same glow that we saw on the creatures on Cross Fell.”
He reached over the edge. His groping fingers were ten inches short of the highest growth. Grunting with the effort, Darwin took hold of the loose e
nd of a trailing rope from the bridge, and levered himself farther over the edge.
“Erasmus, don’t be a fool. Wait until we can come back here tomorrow, with the others.”
Darwin grunted again, this time in triumph. “Got it!”
The victory was short-lived. As he spoke the hemp of the rope, rotted by many years of damp, disintegrated in his grasp. His body, off balance, tilted over the edge. With a startled oath and a titanic splash, Darwin plunged headfirst into the dark water beneath.
“Erasmus!” Jacob Pole swung around and groped futilely in the darkness for several seconds. He at last located the shuttered lantern, opened it and swung its beam onto the surface of the pool. There was no sign of Darwin. Pole ripped off his greatcoat and shoes. He stepped to the edge, hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and jumped feet-first into the unknown depths of the black, silent pool.
* * *
“More than three hours now. They should have signalled.”
“Perhaps they did.” Richard Thaxton squinted out of the window at the dark hillside.
“No. The lantern has been steady. I’m worried, Richard. See, they set it exactly where the lights of the fiends disappeared into the Helm.” Anna shook her head unhappily. “It must be freezing up on Cross Fell tonight. I just can’t believe that they would sit there for three hours without moving or signalling, unless they were in trouble.”
“Nor can I.” Thaxton opened the window and stuck his head out. He stared at the bleak hillside. “It’s no good, Anna. Even when the moon was up I couldn’t see a thing up there except for the lantern—and I can only just see that when you tell me where to look. Let’s give it another half hour. If they don’t signal, I’ll go up after them.”
The Amazing Dr. Darwin Page 27
