The Curse of Salamander Street (10 page)

‘I’m frightened,’ whispered Beadle as he shuffled closer to his friend. ‘What will become of us?’

‘They’re pigs, Beadle, not monsters from hell,’ Raphah joked.

‘What of the madman? We have to get from the carriage and walk. What if he attacks?’ he asked, his voice quaking with fear.

‘Then the bugler will use the blunderbuss and the hounds will see him off. Fear not,’ Raphah said.

‘But we are on the outside,’ he protested.

‘So will Barghast and the others be – we will walk together.’

The carriage slowed to a crawl as the sun set and the shadows grew longer and darker. The wind worked through the spindle rocks and moaned and called across the moor. It wailed like a woman giving birth as it called to the night. The evening was lit by a burning red that edged the rushing clouds with a scarlet hem. The horses’ pace slowed even further as they pulled the carriage higher towards the peak.

Beadle could see the road vanishing into the gloom. The glow of the carriage lamp lit the thick strands of spartina grass that grew in coarse lumps from the bog at the roadside. Tufts, like the spikes of a strange creature, shadowed themselves in dark patches across the moor, warning the traveller of the mire beneath.

Then it came – first as a distant sound like the call of a buzzard, then again like the screaming of a child. The bugler slipped the blunderbuss from its case and rested it across his knees as the horses twitched and danced nervously. They clattered their hooves upon the metalled toll road as they passed another milestone.

‘Peveril within the hour,’ said the driver hopefully.

‘When do we walk?’ Beadle asked as the wailing came again from the high tor.

‘As soon as we’ve gone through Galilee Rocks,’ the bugler, pulling the hammer upon the gun.

‘Why Galilee?’ Raphah asked as he pushed the oilskin from his knees and looked towards the craggy outcrop that appeared from the gloom.

‘In the morrow you’ll see the lake. A man once said it was like the Holy Land. Built his house up there. Nothing but ruins now. Crusader, they said he was. A knight of knights. Carsington’s his name. He brought the sickness. Every generation a
Carsington goes mad and ends up living in these rocks. As soon as he has a son it strikes him down. It’s been amongst the people here ever since. The last one was the keeper of the coaching inn.’

‘Cursed as a misguided fool,’ Raphah muttered quietly to himself. ‘A war for God and the murder of innocents.’

‘Does no one seek to help him?’ Beadle asked as the coach reached the top of the road.

‘It carries on from generation to generation,’ the bugler said. ‘Every descendant of the man has one of his kin to take his place. The madness strikes within the hour. One moment they are about their business, the next they are ranting and eating grass. They leave Peveril and come and live amongst the rocks. They can look upon their town but never return.’

‘Enough of your legends,’ said the driver as he pushed the braking handle. ‘Time to walk.’

Beadle looked nervously at Raphah. The sound of screeching and clattering of iron fetters came again from beyond the marsh grass. ‘He’s out there – the madman.’

‘And that’s all he is, nothing more,’ Raphah said as they stepped to the road.

‘If only it were true, my friend,’ said the bugler as he gathered the hounds about him, feeding them with dried meat. ‘If he were just a madman then we wouldn’t need the hounds. Some say the madness makes him change into a beast. Saw him once upon the rocks and it was no man that I saw.’

It was then that the screams came again. They echoed from all around as if a legion of creatures joined in the baiting of the travellers.

J
ACOB Crane dragged Pallium from the house. His friend was desperately trying to hold on to the doorknocker as if he were a rogue seeking sanctuary. Kate and Thomas stood and watched as Pallium wrestled with the doorknocker. He double-locked the door and wrapped the keys in his hankersniff, muttering all the while that he would be robbed and laid bare of all he had.

‘It must be locked and bolted,’ Pallium protested as he was pulled from his feet towards the Salamander Inn. ‘Who knows what would happen if I were to leave it open?’

‘It would be still here when you got back,’ Crane said. He thought that his friend looked like a starved chicken and that under his drooping clothes was a bag of bones. ‘This is the first time in the year you have left the place and it shall not be your last. You need to eat and eat you will.’

‘I need to eat,’ said Thomas. ‘Beef, bread and gravy.’

Crane pulled Pallium across the muddy street to a patch of cobbles that stood like a dry and deserted island in the froth of the sewer. He protested loudly that a venture into the street would dirty his shoes and that they were not to be sullied. He
jumped from toe to toe as he tried to keep his precious shoes from the mud.

Thomas tried to hold back his laughter as Crane lifted Mister Pallium from the cobbles and carried his meagre frame along the street, tucking him neatly under his arm like a roll of French carpet. With every step Pallium would kick and protest and shout so loudly that his words echoed far into the distance.

There was no one to hear. All was as night. The street was empty. The clock of a far church chimed the hour. In Salamander Street the only light to penetrate the darkness was that of the tallow lamps that hung next to each door. They burnt brightly, each freshly trimmed by an unseen hand. It was as if the place were the seat of some vast cavern and they were setting out to explore its depths.

As they journeyed on, Salamander Street began to change. Although darker by the yard it grew cleaner and more polished. The closer they got to the inn the more respectable the road became. Walls were newly painted, timbers oiled and doors garlanded with wreaths of holly and mistletoe. The sound of music came from behind several of the doors. High above, the roofs of the tall houses met to form a continuous arch that blocked out the sky. From each window, lamps like tiny stars flickered and lit the street below.

Still there was no one to be seen. Ahead, the door of the Salamander Inn stood open. From inside came chattering, it was as if the night had come for some great event to be celebrated.

‘Do they spend all their time drunk?’ Crane asked as he carried his friend along the street.

As they walked on, Kate could only think of what she wanted to eat. She was sure that she could smell the faint aroma of milk pudding, melted cheese and roast apple. It hung about her like a garland and rumbled her guts with longing.

Pallium did not reply. He moaned as with one leg he tried to hang on to his captor and keep himself from falling.

‘You’re a
Mackem
, Jacob Crane, and may you be eaten by magpies …’

‘As long as they serve me with breakfast I shall not complain,’ Crane said as he dumped Pallium on his feet upon the brushed cobbles.

‘Is it safe?’ Kate asked as if she sensed something sinister. ‘Won’t we be asked who we are?’ The image of the ghost stuck in her mind, bold as the portrait and haunting as the apparition.

‘Tell ’em nowt,’ Crane said as he brushed the dust from his coat. ‘Let me speak –
if
there is any speaking to be done. We shall eat, drink and then carry Mister Pallium back to his abode so he doesn’t dirty his prize shoes. Tonight will be a good time to decide how to get the
Magenta
back and find the crew. But first, breakfast.’

‘And you’re paying?’ Thomas asked.

‘Payment for your sailing, boy. Your life belongs to me,’ Crane replied with a smile and a wink, the light from the door reflecting from his face. ‘Onward – the Salamander awaits. I shall have two herrings and a boiled egg.’

Kate stumbled into the bar of the Salamander Inn. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the lamps that lit every corner and dark place. Blinking several times, her eyes slowly became accustomed to the light and she saw what was before her. The inn was a place of warmth and light. Music played loudly, people sang and danced on the polished wooden floors, and like the rest of the street the inn was incredibly clean, with not a speck of dirt to be seen. It was packed with tables and at each sat four or five people. She was aware of Crane, Pallium and Thomas following on, but her mind was taken up by something more incredible. For the first time that she could ever
remember Kate suddenly felt totally happy. It was as if every care in her life had gone, forgotten in the bewitchment of the Salamander Inn.

A gigantic fireplace warmed the room and everywhere she looked there were happy, shining faces. People of all sizes and ages talked merrily. She could not make out what they said, all was babble, but that did not matter. This was not the discord of the gin-house but the open conversation of friendliness. It was not like the dirty drinking houses that lined the quayside at Whitby. No one seemed to notice them as they stumbled in. All appeared lost in the chatter with their companions. The hosteller looked over the crowded, noisy room and gave his welcome, nodding his whiskered face to four seats in the corner by the fire.

Kate looked upon the walls that glimmered with gold and silver paint all edged in bright blue. The wooden floors were polished, scrubbed and dowsed in sawdust that smelt strangely of lavender.

Pallium led them on, shrugging his shoulders as he looked back to the door. ‘Shouldn’t be here,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Should be at home with the money.’

‘Nonsense,’ came a loud voice from a table by the lighted window. ‘This is the place you should be, Mister Pallium. See, I have saved you a table and a seat for each of your guests.’

Mister Pallium suddenly changed. He quickly stood upright and puffed out what chest he had left. His hand speedily smoothed his hair and rubbed his cheeks, and then spinning on his fine shoes he turned in the direction of the voice. ‘MISTER GALPHUS!’ he exclaimed as he threw open his arms as if to welcome a long-lost friend. ‘It is you …’

‘Of course, dear Pallium, it is me … What a pleasure to see you again.’ The man stopped speaking for a moment and stared at Jacob Crane and then at Thomas.

‘Jacob, Kate, Thomas, come and be seated and we shall drink together,’ Galphus said. He raised his hand to signal to the hosteller, who immediately arrived at the table, followed in turn by two servants who carried large trays with silver warming tops.

Kate looked at Galphus sitting serenely in a high-backed oak chair by the window. He wore a small green felt cap upon a bed of neatly cropped hair. Galphus wore the suit of a trader with a thick green tweed coat that came to his knees. At the elbows and the cuffs it was sewn with leather patches.

It was then that she saw his hands. Upon each he had five fingers and a long thumb.
Boggle
, she thought quickly to herself, hoping that Thomas would see it too – She remembered Rueben Wayfoot at Boggle Mill and the morning they had taken breakfast together. He had the same hands, and in so many ways looked just like Galphus it was as if they could be brothers.

‘Kate,’ Galphus said softly as he noticed her staring at his extra fingers. ‘A quirk of nature and a cruel joke upon me,’ he mocked, changing his face to a sad expression. ‘Tell me – what brings you to Salamander Street?’

‘Our mutual friend, Mister Pallium,’ Crane interrupted. ‘I have known him a while and he said that should I be in London then I was to call.’ He looked at Galphus. ‘Then again, from what he has said to us, you already knew we were on our way.’

‘Another cruel joke of a cruel creator,’ Galphus laughed. ‘I have been dogged with seeing what is to come. I dream. Practically live in the sleeping world, and whilst there I experience what is to come. That, and a device which helps me to focus my dreams so that everyone I choose can see them also.’

‘How can you do that?’ Kate asked, forgetting that Crane had told them to be silent.

‘Kate, it is a great mystery. Mankind can travel to the farthest out places of the world and discover whole continents. Yet
within us all there is a galaxy just waiting to be explored. It is an inner universe. But I feel as if it is not just within but without.’ He looked at the food that had been placed upon the table under the silver warmers. ‘If I am correct in my assumptions then what is on each of your plates is what you all really desire to eat at this very moment.’

‘Then you would not be a man to gamble with,’ Crane said as he lifted the silver lid from his dish. There on a white china plate were two perfect fried herring. By the side of each had been placed a fresh, soft boiled egg that had been meticulously peeled.

Kate gasped as she lifted the lid upon her breakfast. There was a bowl of steaming milk, curdling cheese and roast apple. The smell of nutmeg swelled from within and brought to her the memory of her mother and the coming of Christmas.

Thomas laughed as the eyes of the gathering fell upon him. There was great expectation, as if he were the last piece of a puzzle about to be placed. ‘You could never guess what I desire,’ Thomas said as he slowly lifted the lid, his eyes widening in disbelief.

‘Beef slices upon crusted bread and smothered in gravy?’ Galphus asked.

‘’Tis true,’ Thomas replied as he cut the meat with his knife and then ate it with dramatic celerity.

‘Very good, dear Galphus,’ Crane said, looking at Pallium as if he had somehow informed upon them. ‘Not only did you herald our arrival but you know what we would eat. Is there any point in conversation? For you will know what we are to say before the words appear upon our lips.’

‘Party tricks, Jacob, party tricks. I know nothing of your thoughts and am but shown portions of the future. I dreamt of the ship coming and of your food. What good is that in telling the future? That in itself will not change the course of history.’

‘No food for you, Pallium,’ Crane said. ‘Galphus must know you have lost your appetite.’

‘But I do know where the
Magenta
is berthed,’ Galphus said quietly.

‘By another dream?’ Crane asked.

‘By street gossips,’ Galphus replied. ‘It will be taken to Dog Island, the rigging chained and a charge of gunpowder placed in its belly. It is the news of London. A plague ship full of rats– that’s what they say. It is also said that two children were stolen from their master in Whitby.’ Galphus spoke quickly. He looked directly at Crane. ‘If you were to be caught they would hang you for kidnap, Captain Jacob Crane. Think on that as you swallow your herring.’

‘Then you’ll turn us in?’ Crane asked.

‘Luckily for you it was made very clear in my dream that you were to be protected at all costs. Whatever you are running from is coming to find you. At least in Salamander Street you will be safe.’

‘Even with a price on our heads?’ Thomas said.

‘There would not be enough money in the world to make me give you up.’ He spoke quietly, his words stern. ‘This is not by chance that you are here, not by chance.’ Galphus smiled as he picked a fishbone from Crane’s plate and began to clean his teeth. ‘I would betray a friendship. Someone whom you have met. I too have the acquaintance of Abram Rickards. I believe he was known to you in Whitby and helped in your escape.’

‘You’re well connected, Galphus. News travels fast,’ Crane said. He rubbed the fish oil from his chin with the back of his hand. Kate and Thomas could not contain their exhilaration.

‘Have you heard from Abram?’ Kate whispered as the raucousness went on around.

‘Not in a long while. I hear he is in London. He was seen some nights ago by London Bridge just before the sky-quake.’
Galphus became sullen and drew them close as he leaned towards them and hushed his voice. ‘I have known him many, many years and I know he will be very surprised to see me again.’

‘So, Galphus,’ Crane said. ‘You say we are safe. I say I’ll wake up and find a Militia man standing at the end of my bed if I stay here.’

‘Still don’t trust me?’ he replied. ‘Look about you, Jacob. Everyone here is just like you. They have run from their past, left families and fortunes so they can be free. Yet to a man they all trust and believe in Mister Galphus.’

‘Never trust anyone until they prove it.’

‘Perhaps I can do just that,’ Galphus said as he picked a long thin silver cane from the side of the chair and twizzled it in his hands. ‘I have a party trick, a way of entertaining my guests,’ he said jokingly. ‘Gather round and see what is to come.’ With that, Galphus took the cane and held it before them all. It looked to be made of solid silver and was tipped with a round glass globe that shone milky-white.

Galphus pulled up his chair and stared into the crystal ball. He mused for a while, his thick eyebrows twitching up and down, then coughed slightly to clear his throat. He looked solemnly at each one of them before he spoke.