The King of Shadows, page 35
“What?” Now it was Fell’s turn to sputter.
Tabor spoke past the others to Fratello, who answered back. Then Tabor waved a hand in their direction and continued his speech to what Matthew reasoned must be his counsellors.
“I mean to know what’s going on,” Matthew said to the little man. “I’m not moving an inch until I’m satisfied.”
“The king is in royal session now, can’t you see?”
“It’s what I heard that bothers me. The roar of something out beyond the farms, and spare me the nonsense of it being a monster that sprang from Tabor’s mind.”
“Am I still asleep and dreaming all this madness?” Fell asked, to no one in particular.
Fratello started to reply to Matthew, and then he drew a long breath and seemed to shrink even smaller than he already was. In a hushed tone he said, “If you’ll go out into the corridor, I will explain all.”
“After you,” Matthew said.
Three additional Golgothans came into the throne room as Matthew and the professor followed Fratello out. At a distance from the arched opening to the king’s chamber, Fell threw the first dagger: “What do you mean, there are no brigands? Then who sawed the rudder post through?”
“Shall I manage that one?” Matthew asked Fratello, and he surged on before there was a reply: “Tabor told me it was done to keep us here as ‘new blood’ for the island. It seems there’s a population problem. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“And I also understand the same was done to the crews of those other ships. But tell me this: didn’t they fight as much as we’re going to, after I spread this odious news around?”
“I don’t recall,” said Fratello.
“I find it very strange that the memories of people hereabouts are as leaky as was the Essex Triton,” Matthew said to the professor. And addressing Fratello again: “All right, let it rest for the moment, but I can warrant that these fictitious brigands will seem like sainted angels when DeKay and the others get wind of it. Now: about this so-called monster and the bell ringing that obviously called Tabor’s counsellors here … I’m eagerly awaiting an explanation.”
“You already have it, young man. The golgoth was created from the mind of King Tabor. Or … to be more exact … from his nightmares.”
“I fear I am having my own,” said Professor Fell, breaking the silence that had ensued after that last flatly delivered statement.
“You must be insane,” Matthew managed to Fratello’s blank stare. “Or Tabor is. Or I am, because I did hear some kind of bestial roar out there. But a monster from a man’s mind? That can’t be!”
Fratello said, “You fail to understand the power of our king.”
“Please enlighten me. Us,” Matthew corrected.
“King Tabor is what you might call a … the word would be … I think … magician? He has powers far beyond the understanding of ordinary men, because he is far from ordinary.” Fratello paused as two more Golgothan men strode past on their way to the throne room, both of them puffing on long curved pipes. “A magician,” he repeated when the sound of the boots on the stones had faded. “Due to the majesty of his magic we have through the years kept our island a bountiful home for our citizens. King Tabor communes with the spirits of the air, the earth and the sea. It is he who is responsible for the well-being of all, and for the protection of Golgotha.”
Matthew and the professor exchanged glances, but at the moment neither could summon a word.
“Of course you doubt it,” Fratello forged on. “Why would you not, being from a distant land? Hear me when I tell you … King Tabor is unlike any man who has ever lived, and I would follow him to the ends of the earth, as we all would. He has saved our world from destruction from the golgoth time and again. Now, it seems, he must perform that duty once more.”
“You’re talking gibberish, man!” Fell snapped. “What the hell is this golgoth?”
“You will learn the danger soon enough. Let me just say that the golgoth was born from an evil force that caused King Tabor many nights of horrible dreams … and thus, the creature was formed from the power of his nightmares.”
“What evil force?” Matthew prodded.
“One that King Tabor banished from the island, yet the golgoth remained in its lair on the other side.”
“Has no one ever seen this thing?”
“I have seen it,” said Fratello, “and I can say I never wish to see it again. The golgoth is twice the size of a man and capable of brutal strength. Its jaws are filled with fangs and it is horrible to look upon, its body covered with dense black hair. Oh yes, I’ve seen it.”
“And where did you see it?”
“In my own nightmares,” was the reply, “for I was struck with the same evil as King Tabor.”
Oh, for God’s sake! Matthew was about to respond, when his attention was caught by another figure walking past them to attend the council meeting. It was Janvier the priest, wearing his black robe trimmed with red and upon his head a black hat with a wide circular brim. “What’s the priest doing here?” he asked.
“Who?”
Perhaps the term was totally unfamiliar to the little man, so Matthew said, “Janvier, from the church.”
“Our guida spirituale is here to perform un sacramento pour le rituel. In your tongue, a sacrament for the ritual.”
“What ritual?”
“The one that will prevent the golgoth from destroying this island. Now you must hold any other questions for later, as I am part of the sacrament.”
As Fratello started to move away, Matthew reached out and caught the man’s left wrist. He held the back of the left hand up toward Professor Fell’s face. “Do you see a tattoo there?”
Before the professor could speak, Fratello wrenched his arm out of Matthew’s grip. “I told you!” he said, nearly spitting the words. “I have no tattoo!”
“The light here … is not very good,” Fell said, “but … I think … I made out an anchor … and a name.”
“Impossible!” Fratello had clamped his right hand upon the left and drawn it tightly against his chest. “I told you … nothing is there … nothing!”
“The name,” Fell went on. “I think … is Ruby.”
“No!” It had been almost a wounded shriek. Fratello backed away, his face distorted with a fear that shook Matthew to the very bones. “Nothing there! Rien ici! Nothing, do you hear?”
“What are you hiding?” Matthew asked from a frozen throat.
“Leave me alone! Curse you! Curse you to your grave!” And with that shouted malediction echoing along the corridor like its own alarm bell, Fratello turned and staggered away as if under the influence of the most potent and dangerous liquor. Matthew thought he heard the little man give a heart-rending sob before he was out of ear shot, and then Fratello was gone.
“Ruby,” said Professor Fell. “Beneath an anchor. That’s what I saw.” He looked at Matthew, his eyes behind the spectacles wide, his next blink heavy and slow. “What does it mean?”
And Matthew had to respond, in all the frightening truth: “I don’t know.”
Thirty
“I can’t see it,” said Matthew, “but the professor could. Either Fratello can’t see it, or he has wished himself not to, and the power of his denial—incredible as that may sound—is preventing me from seeing it. Now all this about King Tabor being a magician, and this creature called a golgoth formed from his nightmares, and some ritual they’re getting ready to perform to keep the monster from destroying the island. What do you make of it?”
Maccabeus DeKay took another sip from the glass of wine he had poured from a decanter on the table next to his chair, which was the same wicker construction as the chair in Matthew’s room. The sip had to be done through a small glass tube he’d brought out from his belongings, but ever so carefully so as not to spill any upon his fine white silk sleeping gown. The golden eye with the scarlet center in DeKay’s mask glinted in the lamplight. “I have a question for you,” he replied when he lowered the glass. “Why come to me with this and not to Greathouse? After all, aren’t you associates in your problem-solving?”
“We are. But lately … Hudson is not the same as before.”
“Before what?”
“Before a few days ago. I worry for his senses. You’ve seen him going out on that boat. He seems to have very eagerly—and strangely—grasped the concept of making a life for himself on this island.” Matthew was standing before DeKay, and had come here soon after leaving Professor Fell in the old man’s quarters. “I have to say that at the moment I depend on your intellect rather than Hudson’s.”
“Hm,” was DeKay’s response. He shook his head in disbelief. “Never would I have believed I’d be in this position, giving advice to a member of the Herrald Agency. That’s what you’re wanting, isn’t it? Advice on how to proceed?”
“For now I’m simply asking your opinion.”
“On what, exactly? A mystery of a tattoo you say you can’t see but Fell can? What am I to suggest, that you haul Fratello up here and have me look at his left hand?”
“I would have you look at it when you have the opportunity. And to add to the mystery, as you term it, why would the professor be able to see it and I cannot? As to the other things—the so-called golgoth and this ritual they’re preparing—I’ll have to wait and see for myself how things proceed.”
“You’re all wound up,” DeKay said, and sipped again through the glass tube.
“Why wouldn’t I be? And you should be as well!”
“I am content to let time take care of itself. We are strangers here and of course we don’t understand their beliefs and customs. But I’m not going to let what I don’t understand drive me to mental disarray.”
Matthew thought it was odd hearing this from DeKay, who had not so long ago fervently lashed out against being stranded on this island. Let time take care of itself? The wine must be getting to him! Matthew reasoned that now was the moment to throw the big harpoon. “And I have discovered what you wished me to learn,” he said. “You can bring your men in now.”
DeKay’s half-masked face tilted to one side. “What men?”
Matthew stood very still. He felt his heartbeat quicken. “I’m listening,” said DeKay.
“The men aboard the Nemesis,” Matthew replied, and thought his voice sounded hollow, as if it was spoken by someone outside himself. “The guards you set forth. King Tabor admitted to me that there are no brigands. The rudder post was sawed through on his command.”
“The rudder post,” DeKay echoed, with no inflection whatsoever of either anger or alarm.
“No brigands,” Matthew repeated. “It was a lie.” He waited for a reaction that did not arrive. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”
“No brigands,” said DeKay, in that same deadened tone. Then he seemed to abruptly emerge from wherever he’d mentally journeyed. He leaned forward in his chair. “What was the reason for a lie?”
“Tabor says the island needs more population, therefore I gather they grab hold of any able-bodied man who happens here and they’re not letting go. The intent is to bring us into the culture and make us permanent citizens.”
DeKay leaned back once more. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I can understand the situation.”
“Just a moment,” Matthew replied, aghast at this suddenly cavalier attitude. “Tabor ordered your ship immobilized and us to become stranded here, with perhaps only a slim chance of ever getting off. Aren’t you in the least troubled by this? If I were you, I’d be enraged.”
After a brief hesitation of thought, DeKay said, “You are correct in that we may never leave here. Then again, a ship may come to our rescue tomorrow, and—”
“Find itself immobilized and its complement in the same state as ourselves,” Matthew interrupted.
DeKay waved away the statement. “The reality, Matthew, is that we may have to consider Golgotha our new home, for however long … and possibly for years. I’m just wondering … with Tabor being obviously aged and infirm … who might the next king be?”
“Please don’t go any further with that line of thinking.”
“And why not?” Again the half-masked face tilted, and the unmasked portion of the mouth wore a slight smile. “Time is what we seem to have. Why not entertain thoughts of what might be in the future? Oh, I don’t mean next year or the year after that, but … in time, might it be that a future king comes from a distant land?”
Matthew simply could not believe what he was hearing, therefore he was unable to adequately respond.
“And you, as well,” DeKay went on. “I could see you having a position of importance here. Use your imagination! After we learned the language and the customs, we might consider this a paradise on earth. And there is Jenny to think about.”
“Who?”
DeKay suddenly felt as if he’d been walking close to the edge of a cliff and had nearly taken a fatal step into an abyss. The genuine eye blinked. “What did I just say?”
“Nonsense about becoming a king and someone named Jenny.”
DeKay was silent for a long while. Matthew watched him take another drink through the tube, draining the glass. “My mind,” said DeKay, “is drifting. Jenny … was someone I knew, long ago. No matter. What I said about our future here … I meant. If we are to be on this island for years— and who can say how long?—we should begin to accept our condition. Don’t you see?”
“No,” Matthew said, with some heat in it. “And I fear for our condition. Whatever is causing it, our willpower—our energy—is being sapped. I’m seeing Hudson believe that the life of a fishing boat captain on Golgotha is just what he’s always desired, and now you—instead of wanting that damned mirror, you’re thinking of becoming king of the island! My God, can’t you see what’s happening?”
“I do not. Tell me.”
“The island,” said Matthew, “is changing us. Turning us into … I don’t know … mindless sheep, and I’ll wager the same thing happened to the crews of those abandoned ships!”
“Mindless sheep?” DeKay asked. “Young man, don’t you recognize happiness?”
Matthew took that question like a cannonball to the gut. He said, “I’m sure the sailor who went swimming with the mermaids was happy too, until he drowned.”
“That was an unfortunate incident of a man whose mind was already stressed. I hold that of no account.”
“The count is what frightens me, when all of us are consumed by this place.”
“You should go get some sleep,” DeKay said, and motioned toward the door. “Either that, or go get yourself a bottle of wine and medicate yourself.”
“No, thank you, I want to be aware when I begin to think my greatest goal in life is to barter seashells at the market.” And to the wine, positively not, for Matthew had stayed off the stuff since the first night at the feast, as it had given him a throbbing headache. He realized he had nothing more to say, and DeKay’s lackluster attitude toward their predicament was simply another problem to be solved in what seemed a thorny thicket of them. He turned away and went out, to DeKay’s last offering of “Goodnight.”
Matthew started for his own room, but as he approached the door it seemed he would be entering a prison, and who could say that when he awakened he might actually wish to go shell-hunting in that cove Tabor had mentioned. He needed air, and plenty of it.
Outside the palace, Matthew stood looking down upon the town. A few lamps showed here and there, but the hour was late. If the council meeting was still in progress, it had quietened because he’d heard no further voices as he’d descended the stairs. He had to know more about this golgoth and whatever ritual was planned. Hudson was not going to help him, and neither would DeKay. Possibly the only one with remaining sense was Professor Fell, and why might that be? Why had Fell been able to see the tattoo, and why had Fratello reacted nearly violently? It occurred to Matthew that Fratello was fighting against seeing the image, and for whatever reason his strength of will in preventing that sight had infected Matthew’s own perception.
But how could such a thing be?
He drew in a long lungful of air. In the draught he smelled that charred odor, similar to that of leaves burning in autumn.
Suddenly he was aware of a figure emerging from the palace and starting down the road. He thought at first it might be one of the counsellors, but then he realized the person had a knapsack of some kind thrown back over one shoulder … and in another moment, as the figure came nearer, he recognized Captain Brand.
“Hello, there,” Matthew said.
Brand stopped a few feet away. “Oh. Matthew. I didn’t see you.”
“Not ready for sleep just yet,” Matthew told him. He looked up at the sky full of stars. “A beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes. I heard bells a while ago.”
Matthew nodded, but he was too drained to go into any of that. “I needed some air,” he said. “The same for you?”
“Air? Well … I thought I might go ahead and get home.”
Matthew felt the prickle of a spike at the back of his neck. “Pardon?”
“Home,” Brand repeated. “My Louisa’s waiting for me. She must think me tarrying over here, and it’s time I set out.”
Matthew measured his next words very carefully. “Where is your home?”
“Just across the lake,” said the captain. “Not far.”
“I see.” Matthew motioned toward the harbor and the sea below, aware that his hand trembled. “Across that lake?”
“We live on the point. I’ve got to be going. Our two boys are a handful for her.”
“But … do you have a boat?”
“Of course! I went down and inspected it only a short time ago. That’s when I heard the bells. That sound … reminded me so much of the church in the village. Yes, of course I have a boat!” Brand gave a crooked grin that further increased Matthew’s terror. “How in the world could I get across the lake without a boat?”
