Merlin ran to where he’d started his fight with the witch, frantically searching for what he knew should be there. And then he spotted something lying in the grass. With his heart thudding in his chest from the exertion, he raced over and skidded to a stop, not believing what his eyes were seeing.
“Oh my God!” he screamed, his eyes following a set of male-sized boot prints in the mud leading in the direction of the city street.
Morgana’s small umbrella lay in the grass beside Merlin’s feet.
The Holy Grail was gone.
Chapter
19
Where could someone like William Hare hope to run that he wouldn’t be found? Where could he hide? He was one of history’s most notorious criminals: the lazy husband who’d become the grave robber, who’d become a ruthless killer, who’d sold his partner’s soul to the devil to buy his own freedom. How could he possibly have taken the Grail knowing the struggle between good and evil that it represented? It was almost inconceivable that after the magical battle he’d bore witness to, he still hadn’t learned his lesson that crime didn’t pay. Was he flat out crazy or just plain stupid and filled with greed, knowing the carpenter’s cup was worth a fortune to the right bidder? Even so, there was a huge difference between something worth a mountain of money—enough to live his life in the lap of luxury—and something that was truly priceless. No dollar amount could ever be placed on the golden chalice, and no amount of wishful thinking and misguided hope could ever prevent William from eventually being caught.
Knowing Merlin would be coming after him, and having already decided he had to flee Edinburgh before a lynch mob got their hands on him, William made his way to the biggest city he knew—London, England—hoping to become lost in the vast throngs of people there. Only in a new city, in a new country where no one would know who he was or what he’d done, could he hope to become invisible. That was what he was counting on anyway, when he rented a small flat above a brothel in the seedy area of town known as Whitechapel. The poor working-class slum reminded him of Westport back in Edinburgh and he felt right at home amid the hookers and the drunks and the con artists who lived and plied their trades there.
In short, William fit right in…
* * *
For two full weeks Hare actually thought he’d made a clean getaway, holed up in his pigsty of a room, not daring to go outside for a pint at the pub or call a floozy up to join him for the night in fear someone would recognize him or worse yet, try to steal the Grail. His first clue that he’d been found was when he heard a flutter of powerful wings on the edge of sleep, and woke to find the great Snowy Owl perched on his window sill, silently watching his every move. The bird flew away before he could leap from his covers but it didn’t matter—William knew the gig was up.
Dammit all to Hell! William thought, his heart suddenly trip hammering with fear inside his ribcage, urging him to run, but he was too afraid to move. “I’ve got to get away,” he said out loud, hoping hearing the sound of his own voice would stir him into taking action. He had to at least try, right? But where could he go? Panic induced thoughts of Ireland or even America filled his head; anywhere in the world a better hiding place for him than here in—
The door to his hovel suddenly burst open, Merlin storming into the room looking far bigger and nastier than William could remember. The Magician was dressed head to toe in mud-splattered black clothing, his hair and beard a tangled mess from being on the road for so long. The wizard’s mouth was pulled tight with rage, his eyes literally burning with hellfire in the darkened room. Knowing full well he was in a dire situation, William immediately dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life, a large part of him knowing he was probably wasting his breath.
“I’m sorry, Merlin, please…forgive me. I didn’t know what I was doing. You have to believe me. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Where is it?” the wizard said, pointing an accusing finger toward William’s chest. “No more games. Lie to me now at your peril!”
William had no intention of lying.
“I have it, and it’s safe as can be. I never even thought about—”
“Where is it, thief?” Merlin screamed, his voice thunderously loud in the small enclosed space.
William scurried off his knees over to the wooden drawer beside his bed. “It’s here, sir! Right here…safe as houses just like I said.” William dug the Grail out of the drawer where he’d been storing it since arriving here in London, and handed it over to the angry wizard with a hopeful smile plastered on his filthy unshaven face.
Merlin examined the Grail for a moment, making sure it was undamaged, and then turned his burning eyes back onto William. He said one word to the thief and it was the last word he’d hear before his eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor unconscious. The Magician waved his hand and said, “Sleep!”
And so William did.
* * *
When next William woke, he found himself squeezed into a tight place that smelled of oil, earth, and wood. He was surprised to find that he was outside somewhere and that it was unusually dark and quiet for the middle of a large city. His surprise turned to fear when he realized he was lying inside a wooden box, a makeshift casket of some sort. He tried to move his arms and sit up only to find that he couldn’t move a single muscle on his entire body. He tried to scream out for help, but even his voice had been stolen from him for the time being. All he could do was lie there in this claustrophobic place, staring straight up into the smog and star-filled night sky.
And then Merlin stepped into his view.
“Ah…there you are. Nice of you to rejoin the land of the living. Thought I’d lost you there for a minute. You’ve been asleep several hours already.”
The Magician was speaking quietly and seemed to be in a much better mood than when he’d kicked down William’s door earlier tonight. There was even a hint of a smile touching the corners of the wizard’s mouth but for some reason his newfound mirth made William even more afraid of the magician than when he’d been screaming.
William tried to speak, tried to ask where he was and what Merlin was going to do to him, but no more than a tiny incoherent mumble exited his frozen lips. He had no way of knowing it, but his mate Billy had known exactly how he felt at this moment, back when he’d been standing on the gallows with a rope around his neck.
“Don’t waste your breath, William. You’re under a spell. There’s nothing you can say to save yourself, anyway. The die’s already been cast. You’re a liar and a thief and a murderer and a fool…and for your multiple crimes against man and your meddling with the Grail I condemn you to this one final act of goodness that may someday wipe away all your sins and allow your soul peace. Then again…maybe it won’t.”
William fought against the wizard’s spell, trying to break free from the magical bonds holding him still and leaving him mute. Nothing he tried worked and he was left with the horrifying fact that he was helplessly stuck in this shallow grave and at the magician’s mercy. The only things he could control were his eyes.
“If you’re curious, we’re still in Whitechapel, just off one of the main crossroads. It’s a small park but I’m not sure if it even has a name. Not that it matters. Not where you’re going.”
Merlin reached down and grabbed something down by William’s feet. When he brought it into view, it was clearly a thick rope running through some sort of wooden pulley but from where Hare was lying he couldn’t tell what the other end was tied to – until Merlin started to let out some of the slack and the box William was stuck inside began to lower deeper into the ground.
No! William screamed in his mind, his eyes opening wide with fear.
“You see, King Arthur made me promise I’d hide the Grail from the world again. Morgana’s evil plans and to a lesser extent, even your brainless treachery convinced him – and me – that the Carpenter’s Cup was too powerful to be left in the hands of mankind. It needs to disappear again, to be buried
deep where it will hopefully never be found.”
The wizard let the coffin drop another six inches but then cinched the rope off, halting its descent. From out of his baggy jacket, Merlin produced the golden chalice and took a moment to shine its smooth sides before bending down and placing the Grail on William’s heaving chest. Without any effort or thought of his own, William’s hands both crossed over his breast and cradled the carpenter’s cup to his body. Merlin also placed a silver-colored sword into the box, laying the blade along the side of William’s right leg.
“The Grail needs to be hidden but it also needs to be guarded…protected the same as it was last time. Unfortunately I don’t have any Templar Knight who’s willing to sacrifice himself for the cause, but that’s where you come in, of course. Willingly or not, your suffering will not be forgotten. Like I said…it may even one day wash your sins clean but that’s in the Lord’s blessed hands, not mine. If it were up to me, you’d stare at the top of this box forever!”
Merlin smiled coldly and slid the lid of the coffin into place, banging a dozen nails into the wood, sealing William inside. The darkness closed in on William and he would have screamed his throat raw if he’d been able to. The coffin began to descend again, Merlin lowering the box deep into the cold earth, so deep it would hopefully never be disturbed again.
“Goodbye William,” Merlin said, his voice muffled by the lid and the tunnel of dirt. “Always remember you brought this fate upon yourself. May God have mercy on your wretched soul.”
And then other than the sound of dirt raining down on the lid of the coffin to fill in the hole, William heard nothing at all. In time, perhaps he’d learn to pray for an end to his damnation but for now he could do nothing except lay there in the dark, staring up at the memory of a starry sky he’d never see again, and weep.
His hands involuntarily tightened around the Holy Grail.
Epilogue
William Hare died a slow and horrible death inside the deeply buried coffin, clutching the Carpenter’s Cup to his chest, his fingers still protectively wrapped around his golden treasure in the dark. And like the body of the Templar Knight who’d lain buried in Calton Cemetery in Edinburgh, his flesh would decay, though slowly, preserved by the Grail’s magic. Years later, the dark power of the chalice would merge with his corrupt soul and although his body was trapped within the grave, some essence of his evil rage would escape the cold earth and linger in the dingy streets of Whitechapel, searching for a new vessel to taint. The darkness would enter the malleable flesh of a newborn babe, only a few streets from where Hare was buried alive.
After the pain and the midwife’s happy sobs, seeing her healthy boy was almost too much for the young mother. She held him close, whispering his name, the name that best suited him. After all, a baby boy needed a good strong name. “Jack.”
And Jack would grow up to be quite famous in his own right…
Author’s Note
For those who don’t already know, the core story of William Burke and William Hare is sadly all too true. They really were two lazy Irish friends who lived in Edinburgh, Scotland in the late 1820s. An old man’s death in the Log’s Lodging House set them on the path to infamy, leading them to the vile acts of grave robbing, bodysnatching, and ultimately becoming the first documented serial killers in British history. When they were eventually captured, neither man could honestly remember the number of people they’d killed, but the generally agreed upon body count was sixteen or seventeen.
I’ve obviously taken a great many liberties with my version of their story so I wanted to take a moment to address some of them. First and foremost, the real murders and grave robbing took place over a much longer period of time – at least a full year and a half. I condensed that down to several short months so it would fit in with the time it took for Ambrosious Black to carve his statue for the city council. I couldn’t squeeze in all the murders and facts in that shortened timeframe, but I also didn’t feel I needed to. I think you got the gist.
Another point some might take issue with is that I’ve set things up having William Hare as the smarter, savvier leader of the two killers. That could easily be argued, especially since the Edinburgh Crown Attorney judged Burke to be the mastermind behind the murders, which is why he allowed Hare to go free if he cooperated and presented King’s evidence against his friend. My research indicated there was a chance the Crown had been duped though, with Hare only pretending to be a simpleton following Burke’s brutal commands. We’ll never know for sure, but the story worked best for me having Hare as the leader, so I went with it. In the end, both men were equally guilty, and in a perfect world both should have faced the gallows together.
Along with Burke and Hare, both of their wives were questioned in connection with the crimes. I really only introduced Hare’s wife Maggie. I made her more of a sympathetic character, totally innocent of her husband’s evil deeds, but in reality there is a lot of evidence that ties the wives into the murders as well. Perhaps not in the dirty deeds themselves, but there was a lot of money coming into the two households and the women surely must have known far more than they claimed at the eventual trial. Both wives were questioned but ultimately released, and both lived out their lives in hiding, forced to flee the city and move in with sympathetic relatives.
Dr. Robert Knox, the man who was buying the cadavers for his dissection school, obviously knew what was going on as well. He claimed total innocence, of course, and was released a free man – but the evidence shows that the only reason he wasn’t implicated in the murders was because of his affluent place in society and some well-placed “donations” he may or may not have made to certain city officials at the time. Regardless, just being associated with Burke and Hare destroyed his reputation and he was forced to close his surgical school and move to England to escape the shame and the wrath of the Scottish people.
William Burke died as I mentioned in the story, swinging from the gallows on January 28, 1829, paying the price for everyone involved. There is some conflicting data as to whether he was officially convicted of three murders, or if after the judge declared him guilty of killing Mary Docherty, the other charges against him were deemed unimportant and dropped. He’d hang the same for one murder and they could only kill him once, so why bother proceeding to the other charges? After Burke had been declared dead, his body was immediately donated to the surgeons for dissection and his skeleton was cleaned and hung in a glass case at the University of Edinburgh. You can still go there today and see his bones for yourself. There’s even a medical book on display there, bound in Burke’s skin.
Of William Hare’s fate, no one really knows. When he was released from the Jail a full week after Burke’s execution, he needed to be snuck out a side entrance to avoid the angry crowds that were waiting to get their hands on him. History tells us that somehow Hare made it out of the city and then disappeared into the sands of time. No one knows if he lived a long happy life or if he was perhaps captured by the mob and secretly killed. There are several stories of him making his way back to Ireland, or even as far as London, England, where I decided he should go. Although we will never really know, I like to think that wherever he went he was haunted by a great Snowy Owl in his dreams. And if by chance William Hare did somehow fool the lawyers and the judges during his murder trial, perhaps my ending is some small measure of fictional karmic payback. Hey, you never know.
Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my story. It was a lot of fun for me to write and I hope you enjoyed it. I urge any of you who might be interested to go online and do a little research on good ol’ Burke and Hare. Their escalating series of crimes is a fascinating story that is well worth reading.
Gord Rollo
February 9th, 2013
Great White North
GORD ROLLO was born in St. Andrews, Scotland, but now lives in Fonthill, Ontario, Canada, with his wife and three children. His short stories and novella-length works have appeared in many professional publica
tions throughout the genre and he is currently at the end of a four-book novel contract with Dorchester Publishing in New York City. His novels include: The Jigsaw Man, Crimson, Strange Magic, and Valley Of The Scarecrow, all of which are being rereleased in brand new e-book and trade paperback versions through Enemy One Press. Besides novels, Gord edited the acclaimed evolutionary horror anthology, Unnatural Selection: A Collection of Darwinian Nightmares. He also co-edited Dreaming of Angels, a horror/fantasy anthology created to increase awareness of Down’s Syndrome. He recently completed his newest book, a horror/dark fantasy novel entitled The Translators and can be reached through his website at www.gordrollo.com or www.enemyone.com or through his agent Lauren Abramo at [email protected].
East End
Girls
By
Rena Mason
JournalStone
San Francisco
Copyright © 2013 by Rena Mason
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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