‘After some weeks it came to my attention that the local physician was deliberately poisoning his patients and stealing their money and belongings. After he died the locals rewarded me quite handsomely with a share of his stolen wealth. And then I moved on.’
‘But how did he die?’
‘Not by my hand, I swear it.’
‘Then how? More poisoned pie?’
Joe laughed. ‘No, it was an accident, I promise. But let’s not dwell on that. There’s more important business to attend to. Follow me.’
Joe picked up his satchel and crossed the cave to the opposite wall, where I noticed for the first time the entrance to a tunnel. I hesitated at the opening, it was narrow and dark, but Joe had already stepped through, so I took a torch from the wall and ran after him.
Chapter Forty-One
Fragment from
The Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
As we made our way down the rocky tunnel it became narrower and narrower. Joe could no longer stand up straight and I could not walk beside him. Further down, the air became heavy and thick as if it had not moved for many years. The torch dimmed to an amber glow and I feared it might go out altogether. I felt and heard living things fly past me, bats perhaps, but I never saw them, just sensed something brushing against my cheeks and catching at my hair.
‘Don’t worry, Ludlow,’ called Joe over his shoulder. ‘You will come to no harm.’
Now we were descending. The slope was gentle at first, but quickly became steeper and I had to hold on to the sides of the tunnel to stay upright. The air pressure was increasing all the time and there was a dull ache in my ears. Finally, when I thought I could bear it no longer, the ground levelled off and the tunnel widened again and the roof lifted enough for us both to stand erect. Up ahead I could see Joe framed in an archway, his slim figure silhouetted in the yellow light. As soon as I reached him he put his hands over my eyes and guided me the last few feet. I knew when we stepped out of the tunnel because the atmosphere changed and was immediately fresher and cooler. The air was filled with high-pitched moans and wails, and low booms and rumbles that seemed to come and go. My own heartbeat filled my ears.
‘Let me see,’ I whispered. ‘Let me see.’
When Joe took his hands from my eyes I thought that I must be in a dream, that I had stepped from reality into a world that existed only in the imagination, for how else could this be? We stood like tiny insects in an endless hall with an arched roof that was maybe a hundred feet above us. Huge grooved pillars, thicker than ancient tree trunks, reached up to hold aloft the copper ceiling. Light came from shallow dishes of flaming oil that sat upon slender white marble plinths shot through with silver. The walls were dark, made not of rock but from some other material, the nature of which I couldn’t determine; and the floor, surely a masterpiece of craftsmanship in itself, was decorated with tiny pieces of coloured stone set into the earth.
I stared and stared. I think my mouth was wide open. As I looked around the magnificent chamber I felt as if I was seeing for the first time. I couldn’t take it all in. My eyes flicked from side to side and with every blink I saw something else. The pillars, at first glance smooth, were actually intricately carved. Tiny vines snaked around and upwards, and from between the leaves pairs of eyes peeped out. They were so lifelike I almost expected them to blink. The floor, when examined closely, was actually a myriad of pictures, each a self-contained scene of rare beauty. Within these I saw monsters and angels, fairies and small folk, scaled creatures of the sea and the air, some hideous, some alluring, all spectacular.
My gaze was drawn in to the area at my feet, just in front of the entrance to the palatial hall. I stood on the edge of a pale mosaic and depicted within were three figures: one sat at a spinning wheel, a second held a measuring rod to the thread and the third stood over her with a pair of gleaming shears. Their faces were haggard and they seemed to be in dispute.
‘Who are these hags?’ I asked, for they were truly ugly, and my words echoed around the walls. ‘Whoooo . . .’
‘The three sister Fates,’ said Joe. ‘One spins the thread of life, the other measures it and the third cuts it off with her shears. They argue constantly as to which sister is the most important of the three.’
‘The one with the shears?’ I ventured.
Joe smiled. ‘Certainly she is considered the most menacing, but there is no answer, for without one the other two could not exist.’
‘The three Fates,’ I murmured. ‘Why should they be here?’
I stepped a little further into the hall and realized with a shock that the black walls were not walls at all but the unmarked spines of books crammed together on shelves that rose to the ceiling.
‘Take one,’ said Joe.
So I ran over and pulled one, with difficulty, so tightly was it held by its neighbours, from the shelf. As soon as I had it in my hands I knew what it was. There were those same golden words on the cover:
Verba Volant Scripta Manent
‘O, Lord,’ I gasped in complete amazement. ‘Is this a Book of Secrets?’
Joe nodded. I opened it carefully, for it was ancient and the leaves were crumbling into dust. I struggled to read the unfamiliar handwriting. Every page was filled top to bottom, each recording the precious stories of long-dead strangers. I closed it and stood back from the shelves. Joe was watching me closely. Could it be possible . . . ?
‘Are they all books of secrets?’
‘Yes. Every one. From every corner of the globe.’
There must have been thousands. And within each book maybe fifty, a hundred secrets or more. I couldn’t begin to understand what this meant. It was a few moments before I could speak again. ‘Who put them here?’
‘I did,’ said Joe. ‘And others, of course. You are looking at centuries of confessions, Ludlow. My life’s work and that of every other Secret Pawnbroker who ever existed.’
‘But I thought . . . you mean you’re not the only one?’
Joe smiled. ‘I hope you are not disappointed,’ he said, ‘but there have been many of us, and there will be many more. For now the honour goes to me. But I cannot go on forever. Whatever you may think of me, I am still human. I too will return to dust one day.’
Suddenly I grew nervous. My voice shook, my knees trembled, but I had to ask. ‘This is where you came, isn’t it? When you went away.’
Joe nodded. ‘It is something I have to do. I am responsible in part for this place. In a way this hall is my only home.’
‘So why have you brought me here?’
‘Because it could be your home too. Soon you will have to make a choice and then, if you do as I think you will do, you need to know all this. Come with me, there is someone I want you to meet.’
I followed him, all the time turning my head left and right, up and down, to see more, to take it all in and keep it there. We walked between the pillars to the far end of the hall until we came to a large dark wooden desk with thick ornately carved legs. It was stacked high with uneven piles of books. As we approached I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back. A man, hidden when seated, stood up and came forward with both arms extended. He wore a long velvet cloak the colour of which changed with every movement he made. His face was concealed beneath a hood, but he pushed it back and I looked into a pair of eyes I had thought never to see again.
‘Mr Jellico!’ I managed to gasp just before he gave me a hug so tight I feared it would break my bones.
When he finally released me he patted me on the back and shook my hand over and over. ‘I’m so pleased to see you again, Ludlow,’ he said and there was a tear in his eye. ‘I had no idea what to think. I went away for a few days and when I came back you no longer visited. I thought the worst, of course, that you had met some terrible fate at the hands of your parents, but thank the heavens I was wrong. I could not have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you. You can’t know how relieved I am to see it has all worked out in the end. Thanks in part, I’m sure,
to my good friend here, Mr Zabbidou.’
I looked from one to the other completely dumbfounded.
‘You do know each other!’ I exclaimed. ‘Joe, why didn’t you say?’ I couldn’t stop shaking my head in disbelief. ‘But I thought there was only one Secret Pawnbroker.’
Mr Jellico laughed. ‘I am not a Secret Pawnbroker, nothing so exalted as that. No, I merely look after this place, in a fashion. They call me Custos, the Keeper, and this is my realm, Atrium Arcanorum, the Hall of Secrets.’
‘But your shop, in the City?’
‘Hmm, yes,’ he mused, stroking his close-shaven chin. I noticed for once his nails were clean and polished. Even his skin glowed. ‘It is not easy being in two places at once. I’m sorry I couldn’t always be there for you but, as you can see, I have other obligations.’
While I reeled from one revelation after another, Joe and Mr Jellico stepped aside and wandered away down the hall, deep in conversation. I stood by the desk, dizzy with thinking and seeing. I turned in slow circles and tried to understand. A thousand ‘What ifs’ ran through my head. What if I had never come to Pagus Parvus? What if I had chosen another carriage other than Jeremiah Ratchet’s? What if Ma and Pa . . .
I made myself stop. I had to. I could have gone on forever.
It was all supposed to happen exactly as it did, I decided. It wasn’t luck, it was meant to be.
Further down the hall I saw Mr Jellico take the Black Book of Secrets from Joe – the very book in which I had recorded the confessions of Pagus Parvus – and push it on to a shelf. When I looked again I could not tell you where it was. Joe beckoned me over.
‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think this is the most incredible place I have ever seen,’ I whispered. ‘It . . . it almost scares me.’
‘That’s what I thought when I first came here,’ said Mr Jellico wistfully, ‘but that was a very long time ago.’
‘Lembart does a fine job keeping it in order,’ said Joe.
‘I do my best,’ he said modestly and moved away, leaving us alone.
Joe turned to face me and now his expression was sombre. ‘I have something to give you, Ludlow, if you want it,’ he said.
He reached under his cloak and handed me a black book, leather bound with a red ribbon to mark the page, as yet blank inside, but on the cover in the bottom right-hand corner I saw the gold letters:
LF
‘A Black Book? Of my own?’ I was more than a little dazed.
‘It’s not an easy life,’ said Joe thoughtfully. ‘I think you know that, but it has its own rewards. If you do not wish to pursue it, now is the time to say so.’
I couldn’t speak, I could only stare with my mouth agape and my eyes fixed. What did all this mean?
‘You wouldn’t start right now, of course,’ he continued, ‘but one day in the future, and I will be here to help until then.’
At last I managed to whisper, ‘Are you asking me to be a Secret Pawnbroker?’
‘Not just “a” but “the” Secret Pawnbroker,’ he replied. ‘Have I chosen well, Ludlow? Do you think you can do it?’
Now I was finding it difficult to breathe. My tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of my mouth. This was the most important moment in my life and my body was letting me down. I mustered all my energy and inhaled deeply and tried to calm the hammering against my ribs. ‘But . . . but how can I?’ I stammered. ‘I am not ready. What do I know of all this?’
‘Enough,’ he smiled. ‘As for being ready, well, no one can tell what the three sisters will spin for us but, when the time is right, you’ll know.’
The three sisters, I thought, and slowly I began to understand why their picture was in the mosaic. This room was not just about secrets, it was about Fate. And Joe, this tall wild-haired man, was an instrument of Destiny. He was the key to my future. His voice cut into my thoughts.
‘As long as you believe you are able,’ he said, ‘then there is no reason for it not to happen.’
‘I believe I am able,’ I said at last with a little more strength.
Joe patted me on the shoulder. ‘That is all I wanted to hear,’ he said. ‘Now I will ask just one more thing of you.’
We walked back to the desk and I could sense between the two of us an invisible connection that wasn’t there before. It gave me confidence and made me hold my head high and my back straight. He sat on one chair and I sat on another. From his satchel he took out the brandy and two glasses. He poured an equal measure into each and handed one to me.
‘Drink.’
I had to laugh. ‘Once I thought it might be poisoned,’ I confessed.
Joe looked at me with great amusement as I sipped from the glass. The burning liquid warmed the back of my throat and made me cough. Joe delved into the bag again and pulled out the ink and the quill. Automatically I reached for them but he held them back.
‘I will write,’ he said.
I was confused. ‘But who down here shall tell his secret to us?’
Still holding my book he opened it on the first page.
‘You will, Ludlow,’ he said. ‘The first story in your first Black Book will be your own.’ He looked straight into my eyes and my head filled with singing like angels and, because I thought I might suddenly float away, I wanted to tell him everything.
‘It is time for you to give up your secret.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Extract from
The Black Book of Secrets
Ludlow’s Confession
My name is Ludlow Fitch and I have a shameful confession. I have carried it with me to Pagus Parvus and now to this deep under– ground library of secrets. Though I am fearful that you will think less of me, I wish to reveal it for I can bear it no longer.
You know whence I come, you know what sort of life I led in the City. I am not proud of my past but neither will I deny it. I did what I had to do to survive.
As the drink took hold of Ma and Pa I realized they would stop at very little in their pursuit of gin. I had never expected, however, that I should become a mere pawn in their selfish games. You can imagine my surprise then when I arrived back one evening to find them lying in wait. As soon as I stepped foot inside the attic room we called home, Ma brought down a chair leg on my skull and I crashed to the floor. I was hardly alive as they dragged me down the stairs feet first, my head bouncing off every step, and when Pa flung me over his shoulder my skull throbbed even more. I don’t know how long we walked; I lost track of the turns and corners, and I couldn’t read the street names on account of my blurred vision. I knew we were still near the Foedus, her smell was strong in my nostrils, and perhaps I have her to thank for the fact that I remained awake as long as I did. Eventually, however, I succumbed to the terrible throbbing in my brain and I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was in the basement lair of Barton Gumbroot.
I still hate to think of what he tried to do to me. When I man– aged to escape on to the street I knew that my life was never going to be the same. The three of them chased me all the way to the river. I could see the Bridge up ahead and I thought if I could just get there, maybe I could find help in one of the taverns. But I was slow– ing, I couldn’t see properly and I was running out of breath. Then, to my utter horror, Pa caught me.
He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. We both fell in the dirty slush and he jumped on me and clasped his hands around my throat. His strength was superhuman. His desire for money, for gin, made it so, but my desire to live was greater. I reached up and burst his arms apart and at the same time I kneed him in the stomach. He fell sideways and rolled on his back and then the tables were turned. I sat upon his chest and held his arms down over his head.
I looked into his cruel face and saw nothing to stop me. I closed my hands around his scrawny neck and squeezed until he was blue in the face and his eyeballs began to bulge. He writhed and kicked and tried to wrest my hands away. He was unable to speak, but his eyes were begging
for mercy and I couldn’t ignore their plea. What– ever else he might be he was still my father. With a shout I let go and stood over him as he wheezed and coughed for breath.
‘Why did you do it?’ I gasped.
‘I’m sorry, son,’ he croaked in a voice full of remorse and, like a fool, I thought he meant it. Ma and Barton were coming, I could hear them. I turned for no longer than a second and Pa was up again and had his arms tight as a noose around my neck. I elbowed him sharply to make him let go and then I shoved him as hard as I could and he stumbled backwards down the steep bank.
‘No,’ he cried, ‘Noooo,’ before landing on his back in the dark waters of the Foedus. I watched in disbelief as she sucked him under in a matter of seconds. I could see his white face, his mouth wide open and bubbling, just below the surface and then he was gone. ‘Pa,’ I whispered and for a second I was rigid with shock. Then I came to my senses and stumbled on to the Bridge where I saw Jeremiah’s carriage just pulling away. With a supreme effort I managed to climb on to the back. As we gathered speed I could still see Ma. She was crying and screaming and Barton was shaking his fist at me and cursing.
I murdered my own father, Joe. Whatever he had done to me, surely he didn’t deserve that. I could have saved him. I could have gone down and dragged him out. I cannot forgive myself. I have dreamed of it every night and always I see his face looking up at me from the water.
Joe put down his quill, laid a sheet of blotting paper between the pages and closed the book. Tears streamed down Ludlow’s cheeks.
‘I’m just a filthy murderer,’ he sobbed. ‘Why would you want me with you?’
‘Ludlow,’ said Joe softly, ‘it was never your intention to kill your father. If you were going to, you would have strangled him when you had the chance; instead you pitied him. You don’t even know for sure that he’s dead.’