The Light Beneath the Cauldron Read online

  “During the row, one of the men got up and stormed out into the forest. The others followed him out and shouted after him until he disappeared under into the treeline where they could no longer see him. As they turned to go back inside, they suddenly heard the most agonizing screams coming from not far away. They knew it was their friend and they ran to the sound.

  “When they got closer, however, just beyond the treeline they stopped. There was no noise anymore and all was silent. Each man would tell the next day of the feeling that ran through their bodies at that moment. Both said it was a sense of pure evil and the most powerful thing either had ever felt.

  “Peering into the trees they made out something moving away from where they would find their friend’s mauled body the next morning. Neither were in doubt to what they had seen,” here Deek looked around and let a long silence fall before saying, “The Krampus.”

  The men in the room smiled, some nervously, and general talk was just about to resume when Deek said,

  “That is where the Devil first came into this story.” This gathered everyone’s attention once more and no one said a word as they waited for the Prussian to go on.

  “The next day, after finding their friends body the two men ran terrified into town to tell everyone what had happened. And what do you think? No one believed them. They were both still stinking of drink, their eyes wild and they had even told about the argument during their nonstop description of the night!

  “Of course they were both arrested at once for the murder of their friend. Some men went up to the cabin and saw the body and found common tools by the cabin that could easily have been the implements that inflicted the wounds on the dead man.

  “The two men cried out that they were innocent but they were sentenced to hang. How could anyone believe such a story as theirs?” Deek looked around as though actually asking this question of the men in the cabin.

  “The night before their execution came and the two men wept in the dungeon cell they shared, each manacled to the wall on either side of the room. There was nothing they could do to avoid their fate.

  “They spat insults at one another for a time, each blaming the other for their predicament, but soon they cooled and talked of fond memories. Finally, they prayed together. It was the closest these two men ever were in their lives. It was at this moment the misted breath of the Krampus appeared outside the cell and the cloven-hoofed footsteps as it approached.

  “In the morning both men were found torn to shreds their lifeless arms still attached to the chains on the walls but the rest of their bodies strewn about the room. Now everyone believed what they had said and that very day every man, woman and child left the town, never to return.

  “I found this town having been told of its legend and when I got there I can tell you without a trace of doubt that there was no Krampus in Valken; it was something much worse than that. It was the Devil himself who punished those three men for playing at his likeness in jest.

  “The town still stands idle, and only the rare foolish traveller dares to stay there more than a few minutes. It’s said many people who travelled in the direction of the town were never seen again. If you ever visit the Alps, make sure to stay away from there.”

  Chapter 14

  Though outwardly the world saw Edwards as usual, his inner life was in turmoil. Something was terribly wrong, and as things stood, he didn’t know what it was. Central to it was Gaspard. James had thought the Frenchman was winking at him just before he escaped but Edwards knew this had been directed towards himself. It was part of the game Gaspard has been playing, but it was a game Edwards did not understand and therein lay the heart of the matter.

  Olocher was looking into Madame Mel at the moment but had so far found nothing out of the ordinary. Edwards had been moving about talking to his own contacts but he too had come up with nothing so far. If Madame Mel was involved somehow, Edwards had no idea how or for what reason she might be involved. She was a clever woman, however, and he wasn’t about to underestimate her. He did his best to think back on any arguments he may have had with her over the years but no memory of such a thing came back to him. Was it possible he’d managed to invoke her ire while drunk and he didn’t recall the incident? It didn’t seem likely; she had always been quick to tell a man off if he overstepped in her house and she never displayed any animosity to him there.

  The only person Edwards could think of, who had murder in his past and might hold a grudge against him was Adams. While asking his questions of Gaspard it had emerged that he had been in London on a few occasions in the last couple of years. Could they have joined forces somehow, to get revenge for Edwards’ running Adams out of Ireland? How would they have met? Adams had been a customer of Madame Mel’s house, perhaps that was the connection?

  It made some sense to him but still didn’t feel like it fit well. Edwards had sent a letter to Halter, his man in London, to check in on Adams—something he did frequently—and was awaiting a reply. So far, Adams hadn’t been up to anything, but this time Edwards had asked Halter about possible visits in the past by Gaspard.

  No matter what had happened, it was clear that Gaspard had targeted Olocher’s work and this in turn led him no doubt to find out the young killer lived with Edwards. How much he actually knew about what was going on was hard to say, but even at the minimum it was much more than Edwards would like.

  What was the end of the plan? Was he himself in danger? He thought so but wasn’t sure. He cursed Daniel Deek. Ever since the Prussian had come into his life there had been a sense of foreboding that Edwards just couldn't escape.

  Images of the night Edwards felt he was being pursued came to mind and he saw himself entering the Church and kneeling down in terror at what came up on him. It had been Deek who came to him that night but Edwards never did know for sure if he had been followed or not. The Prussian’s talk of the Devil had gotten into his head back then and clouded everything.

  Now, standing in the clubhouse on Francis Street and looking down in the rainswept road he wondered what was the best course of action for him to take. Was it best to go on and keep an eye out for the next move of his opponent, or was it better to wait. Find out who the enemy really was and deal with them before moving on to the real work?

  After a long time thinking this, he settled on momentum. It was best to keep going and try flush them out that way. Who knew what might happen if he waited any longer to get the plan in proper motion. James might get lucky and figure it all out before long, or some other mishap could spoil the whole thing.

  In his mind, he was leaning towards Adams being the one responsible for Gaspard's knowledge and interference in the plan, but another idea was forming at the same time. Perhaps Madame Mel really did have nothing to do with the whole thing, but getting rid of her wouldn't do any harm and it might drag Gaspard back into the fold. His anger and longing for revenge might cloud him and give Edwards and Olocher the advantage. What was the worst case scenario? Mel would be dead, and Gaspard wouldn't give a damn. It would be a shame to see a woman as beautiful as she was gone, but it wouldn't affect anything else at all.

  It was certainly something to consider.

  Chapter 15

  Mary and Sarah darted in the door to the building on Skipper’s Lane, laughing hysterically. They had been caught in a freakish downpour of rain just as they came onto the road and they ran to the house. Sarah had the key and she couldn’t open the door as both got soaked to the skin. They stood panting in the hallway still giggling and started to go up the stairs to get the fire going. Mary was ahead when Sarah stepped onto the stairs before stopping suddenly,

  “I better lock that door again,” she said turning to do so. Mary watched her and the giddiness in her subsided a little, that had been too close. She hated it when other people left the door open, but it would have been worse if they had done it themselves in a moment of forgetfulness.

  In the room, Mary set to work on the fire while Sarah chopped the ve
getables for their dinner. They both felt it was more important to get these things started before getting out of the wet clothes. The quicker the fire was on the quicker they would be warm and fed

  It had been a good day at the market, and they were both in high spirits as they sat in their dry bedclothes before the fire eating the soup.

  “That must be the most we’ve sold in one day this year,” Sarah said smiling contently.

  “It was busy alright,” Mary said. She’d sold eight baskets full today, a full two more than her previous best day. “I wonder what the surge was about?” she said.

  “Who knows,” Sarah said and then laughing added, “And who cares, so long as it continues!” Mary laughed too, but the idea had turned her mind to money.

  They had been doing well of late, the market was trading busily and they had lived in Edwards’ apartment with Kate rent fee for almost a year. Then while they lived with Mullins and Kate, he wouldn’t take anything but a token ‘rent’ from them. It had been a very low cost year and a half with money coming in the whole time.

  “Do you think it’s time to start looking for someone else to help us with the rent here?” she asked Sarah. Sarah smiled at her,

  “Forever worrying, aren’t you?” she said. Mary smiled,

  “Just thinking of the future.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Sarah said nodding. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “No. How about you?” Sarah shook her head. “Well, if we know we’re looking now someone will come to mind soon,” Mary said.

  Just then, the familiar singing drunken voice of Flaherty downstairs came to them.

  “He’s off out to the tavern,” Sarah said.

  “He must be the only man who goes to the tavern drunk instead of coming home from it!” Mary said and they both laughed as they rushed to the window to look down.

  Sure enough, Flaherty was swaying all over as he crossed the rainy road and set off for his evening out. Then they heard the door below bang in the wind.

  “He’s left the bloody door open again!” Sarah said.

  “I’ll get it,” Mary said making for the door but Sarah stopped her,

  “You’ve not got anything on your feet,” she said pointing to Mary’s bare toes. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll get some tea brewing, then,” Mary said and Sarah went downstairs to lock the front door.

  Mary had the water on and was instantly worried when Sarah wasn’t already back in the room. Their door was ajar but no noise came from the landing or stairs. Mary stepped nervously to the door and listened again. There was no noise at all; there should have been something—the door latch, Sarah’s footsteps on her way back; voices if she had stopped to talk to someone—but there wasn’t. Noth—

  Now she heard a low scraping noise, not something she recognised. Mary wanted to call Sarah’s name but she was too frightened. For the same reason she couldn't bring herself to lean around the partly open door and peer out.

  “Sarah?” she whispered. No answer came.

  The sound continued and in Mary’s mind she could think only to call it a slathering noise. Was it getting closer? It was hard to tell.

  “Sarah?” Mary said a little louder this time. Still no answer.

  Summoning all her courage by deciding it was more fearful not to know what she was hearing; Mary gripped the side of the door and peered out to the stairway. Her eyes widened in horror at the most grisly scene she had ever seen in her life. She screamed with such force her own ears were ringing long afterwards.

  Outside, at the top of the stairs, the pallid white face of Sarah stared at her helplessly. Blood covered her chest and arms from the horrific slash to her throat. She tried to say something to Mary, one hand out for help, but no sound could emit from her throat save a sighing bubblish gurgle. Sarah’s legs trailed on the stairs behind her and it looked like she had been trying to pull herself home with what little strength she had left.

  Tears streamed down Mary’s cheeks as she rushed outside to her friend, forgetting any danger that might still lurk in the landing. She tried to take Sarah’s hand, but even in her dying moments Sarah was trying to save Mary. She wouldn't let her hand be taken and she waved it away as though telling Mary to get home.

  Mary didn’t understand this and she grasped her friends arm and kneeled before her.

  “What can I do?” Mary asked frantically, but in her heart she knew that there was nothing she could do. She felt Sarah’s hand grip her and their eyes met for the last time before Sarah drifted off, her head slumping down into Mary’s lap.

  Mary’s initial scream had drawn out her neighbours and there were many witnesses to this last moment of Sarah’s life. Mary wailed for a long, long time stroking Sarah’s hair as she cradled her head on her thighs.

  Chapter 16

  Word spread like lightening about the murder of Sarah Reilly on Skippers Lane. The general agreement was that Gaspard has once more been responsible; that he was still in the city carrying on with his grim work. In other quarters, some spoke in hushed voices of the Dolocher. Sarah was a very strong link to that case in that she lived with Mary Sommers—one of the chief victims of the Dolocher—and had done so for many years now. How could one not think of it?

  The market at Temple Bar was a sombre place the day after the murder. Some of the other traders opened and worked the vegetable stall as a mark of respect for Sarah and out of kindness to Mary. It would be a bumper day for sales, not that it would count for much of a consolation to her.

  Alderman James had come to the scene and seen the bloody trail up the stairs where Sarah had dragged herself. The soldiers did the rounds asking questions and once again, no one saw or heard anything after the drunk Flaherty going out.

  James spoke to Mary as she sat by the window of the small room where she was now the sole occupant. The hysterical screaming was long over when James saw her but he didn’t feel she was really there at all. Her answers were short and simple but she never looked at him. She knew nothing of any use and he supposed she was lucky to be still alive. If the killer had wanted, she would be dead now as well. He didn’t think it the time to mention this to her, to get her take on this fact, but it was something he would have to ask at some point over the next few days.

  Before James left, Kate—Mary’s friend—arrived and sobbingly took Mary in her arms. Kate was also a good friend of Sarah’s and the three women had lived together on and off over the previous years. He would have to talk to her too, but again today didn’t seem like the time to do it. Sense and grief don’t often mix well, James thought.

  Over the next couple of days, it began to become very clear that there was a cohort of Irish Nationalists who did not appreciate the increase in soldier patrols since the escape of Gaspard and the resumption of the murders. It seemed it was inadvertently hampering their operations at the same time.

  Crude painted slogans began to appear calling for rebellion and mocking the commanders of the army and even Alderman James himself. It made no sense to him that these people would rather a killer run around free murdering their own people than for soldiers to be out trying to protect them.

  An increase of the vile assault known as ‘houghing’ was noted and many soldiers were crippled for life as a result. It all pointed towards civil unrest of the worst kind. The rebels were angry, the soldiers were angry and the general populace was getting sick and tired of living in fear. The whole city was a powder keg waiting for a stray ember to set it alight. Alderman James' worst fears looked like they were sitting just over the near horizon.

  He knew it was time to go to Edwards. James needed the connections and information routes he had. It was the only way he was going to find out anything at all.

  Chapter 17

  It was late the morning after Sarah’s death when Kate first heard about it from a gossiping neighbour. Tim was already gone to work so Kate locked the house at once and ran towards Skippers Lane. She had only rounded the corner when she bumpe
d right into Tim. His eyes were wide and full of sympathy for her and Kate couldn’t stop the real sobs from coming now. She knew he had also heard what had happened and was rushing home to comfort her.

  “I’m so sorry, Kitty,” he said taking her in his arms where she sobbed against his huge chest.

  “Is Mary alright?” Kate asked when she was able and Tim nodded,

  “I hear she’s fine,” he said, “I think the Alderman is with her now.”

  “Poor, poor Sarah,” Kate said shaking her head, and then with some anger added, “In her own home!”

  “I know,” Tim said nodding sadly.

  “I better go see Mary,” Kate said stepping out the embrace, “She’ll be distraught.”

  “I’ll walk down there with you,” he said and they turned to walk that way. Tim put her arm around her shoulder as they walked and hugged her close to him. She was glad of it.

  When they came close to the house, Kate felt herself slow down though she had no part to play in it as far as she was concerned.

  “Kate?” Tim asked looking down to her face.

  “I’m taking Mary back to ours later?” she said forcing herself to walk on again.

  “Of course,” Tim said, “As long as she likes.”

  “Thanks, Tim,” she said and then she stepped out from under his arm, “I’ll be alright from here. You better go back to work. Larry’s in the shop alone?” Tim nodded to this last question,

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

  “No, really, I think it will be better if I go to her alone.” Tim took her hand and kissed it softly,