Spook's Curse (7 page)

‘No, lad, not yet. I told you before, I’ve got unfinished business in this town.’

My heart sank and I looked towards the alley entrance uneasily. People were still scurrying past, going about their business, and I could hear some stallholders calling out the price of their wares. But although there was a lot of noise and bustle, we were thankfully out of sight. Despite that, I still felt uneasy. We were supposed to be keeping our distance from each other. The priest outside the cathedral had known the Spook. The housekeeper knew me. What if someone else walked down the alley and recognized us and we were both arrested? Many priests from County parishes would be in town and they’d know the Spook by sight. The only good news was that at the moment they were probably all still in the churchyard.

‘That priest you were talking to before, who was he? He seemed to know you so won’t he tell the Quisitor you’re here?’ I asked, wondering if anywhere was really safe. For all I knew that red-faced priest outside the cathedral could even direct the Quisitor to Chipenden. ‘Oh, and there’s something else.

Your brother’s housekeeper recognized me at the funeral. She was really angry. She might tell somebody that we’re here.’

It seemed to me that we were taking a serious risk in staying in Priestown while the Quisitor was in the area.

‘Calm yourself, lad. The housekeeper won’t tell a soul. She and my brother weren’t exactly without sin themselves. And as for that priest,’ said the Spook with a faint smile, ‘that’s Father Cairns. He’s family, my cousin. A cousin who meddles and gets a bit excited at times but he means well all the same.

He’s always trying to save me from myself and get me on the path of “righteousness”. But he’s wasting his breath. I’ve chosen my path - and right or wrong it’s the one I tread.’

At that moment I heard footsteps and my heart lurched into my mouth. Someone had turned into the alley and was walking directly towards us!

‘Anyway, talking of family,’ the Spook said, totally unconcerned, ‘here comes another member. This is my brother Andrew.’

A tall man with a thin body and sad, bony face was approaching us across the cobbles. He looked even older than the Spook and reminded me of a well-dressed scarecrow, for although he was wearing good quality boots and clean clothes, his garments flapped in the wind. He looked more in need of a good breakfast than I did.

Without bothering to brush away the beads of water, he sat on the wall on the other side of the Spook.

‘I thought I’d find you here. A sad business, brother,’ he said gloomily.

‘Aye,’ said the Spook. ‘There’s just the two of us left now. Five brothers dead and gone.’

‘John, I must tell you, the Quis—’

‘Yes, I know,’ said the Spook, an edge of impatience in his voice.

‘Then you must be going. It’s not safe for either of you here,’ said his brother, acknowledging me with a nod.

‘No, Andrew, we’re not going anywhere until I’ve done what needs to be done. So I’d like you to make me a special key again,’ the Spook told him. ‘For the gate.’

Andrew started. ‘Nay, John, don’t be a fool,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known you wanted that. Have you forgotten the curse?’

‘Hush,’ said the Spook. ‘Not in front of the boy. Keep your silly superstitious nonsense to yourself.’

‘Curse?’ I asked, suddenly curious.

‘See what you’ve done?’ my master hissed angrily to his brother. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said, turning to me.

‘I don’t believe in such rubbish and neither should you.’

‘Well, I’ve buried one brother today,’ said Andrew. ‘Get yourself home now, before I find myself burying another. The Quisitor would love to get his hands on the County Spook. Get back to Chipenden while you still can.’

‘I’m not leaving, Andrew, and that’s final. I’ve got a job to do here, Quisitor or no Quisitor,’ the Spook said firmly. ‘So are you going to help or not?’

‘That’ss not the point, and you know it!’ Andrew insisted. ‘I’ve always helped you before, haven’t I?

When have I ever let you down? But this is madness. You risk burning just by being here. This isn’t the time to meddle with that thing again,’ he said, gesturing towards the alley entrance and raising his eyes towards the steeple. ‘And think of the boy - you can’t drag him into this. Not now. Come back again in the spring when the Quisitor’s gone and we’ll talk again. You’d be a fool to attempt anything now. You can’t take on the Bane 
and
 the Quisitor - you’re not a young man, nor a well one by the looks of you.’

As they spoke, I looked up at the steeple myself. I suspected that it could be seen from almost anywhere in the town and that the whole town was also visible from the steeple. There were four small windows right near the top, just below the cross. From there you’d be able to see every rooftop in Priestown, most of the streets and a lot of the people, including us.

The Spook had told me that the Bane could use people, get inside their heads and peer out through their eyes. I shivered, wondering if one of the priests was up there now, the Bane using him to watch us from the darkness inside the spire.

But the Spook wasn’t for changing his mind. ‘Come on, Andrew, think on! How many times have you told me that the dark’s getting stronger in this town? That the priests are becoming more corrupt, that people are afraid? And think about the double tithes and the Quisitor stealing land, and burning innocent women and girls. What’s turned the priests and corrupted them so much? What terrible force makes good men inflict such atrocities or stand by and let them happen?

Why, this very day the lad here has seen his friend carted off to certain death. Aye, the Bane is to blame, and the Bane must be stopped now. Do you really think I can let this go on for half a year more?

How many more innocent people will have been burned by then, or will perish this winter through poverty, hunger and cold if I don’t do something? The town is rife with rumours of sightings down in the catacombs. If they’re true then the Bane is growing in strength and power, turning from a spirit into a creature clothed in flesh. Soon it could return to its original form, a manifestation of the evil spirit that tyrannized the Little People. And then where will we all be? How easy will it be then for it to terrify or trick someone into opening that gate? No, it’s as plain as the nose on your face. I’ve got to act now to rid Priestown of the dark, before the Bane’s power grows any stronger. So I’ll ask you again, one more time. Will you make me a key?’

For a moment the Spook’s brother buried his face in his hands just like one of the old women saying her prayers in church. Finally he looked up and nodded. ‘I still have the mould from last time. I’ll have the key ready first thing tomorrow morning. I must be dafter than you,’ he said.

‘Good man,’ replied the Spook. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I’ll call for it at first light.’

‘This time I hope you know what you’re doing when you get down there!’

The Spook’s face reddened with anger. Tou do your job, brother, and I’ll do mine!’ he said.

With that, Andrew stood up, gave a world-weary sigh and walked off without even a backward glance.

‘Right, lad,’ said the Spook, ‘you leave first. Go back to your room and stay there till tomorrow.

Andrew’s shop is down Friargate. I’ll have collected the key and will be ready to meet you about twenty minutes after dawn. There shouldn’t be many people about that early. Remember where you were standing earlier when the Quisitor rode by?’

I nodded.

‘Be on the nearest corner, lad. Don’t be late. And remember, we must continue to fast. Oh, and one more thing: don’t forget my bag. I think we might be needing it.’

My mind whirled on the way back to the inn. What should I fear most: a powerful man who would hunt me down and burn me at the stake? Or a fearsome creature that had beaten my master in his prime and, through the eyes of a priest, might be watching me at this very moment from the windows high in the steeple?

As I glanced up at the cathedral my eye caught the blackness of a priest’s cassock nearby. I averted my gaze but not before I’d noted the priest: Father Cairns. Luckily the pavement was busy and he was staring straight ahead and didn’t even glance in my direction. I was relieved, for had he seen me here, so close to my inn, it wouldn’t have taken much for him to work out where I might be staying. The Spook had said he was harmless but I couldn’t help thinking the fewer people who knew who we were and where we were staying, the better. But my relief was short-lived for when I got back to my room there was a note pinned to the door.

Thomas,

If you would save your masters life, come to my confessional this evening
 
at seven. After that it will be too late.

Father Cairns

I felt a sickening unease. How had Father Cairns found out where I was staying? Had someone been following me? Father Gregory’s housekeeper? Or the innkeeper? I hadn’t liked the look of him at all.

Had he sent a message to the cathedral? Or the Bane? Did that creature know my every movement?

Had it told Father Cairns where to find me? Whatever had happened, the priests knew where I was staying and if they told the Quisitor he could come for me at any moment.

I hurriedly opened my bedroom door and locked it behind me. Then I closed the shutters, hoping desperately to keep out the prying eyes of Priestown. I checked that the Spook’s bag was where I’d left it then sat on my bed, not knowing what to do. The Spook had told me to stay in my room until morning.

I knew he wouldn’t really want me to go and see his cousin. He’d said he was a priest who meddled.

Was he just going to meddle again? On the other hand he’d told me that Father Cairns meant well. But what if the priest really did know something that threatened the Spook? If I stayed, my master might end up in the hands of the Quisitor. Yet if I went to the cathedral, I was walking right into the lair of the Quisitor and the Bane! The funeral had been dangerous enough. Could I really push my luck again?

What I really should have done was tell the Spook about the message. But I couldn’t. For one thing he hadn’t told me where he was staying.

‘Trust your instincts,’ the Spook had always taught me, so at last I made up my mind. I decided to go and speak to Father Cairns.

G
iving myself plenty of time, I walked slowly through the damp, cobbled streets. My palms were clammy with nerves and my feet seemed reluctant to move towards the cathedral. It was as if they were wiser than I was and I had to keep forcing one foot in front of the other. But the evening was chilly, and luckily there weren’t many people about. I didn’t pass even one priest.

I arrived at the cathedral at about ten minutes to seven and as I walked through the gate into the big flagged forecourt, I couldn’t help glancing up at the gargoyle over the main door. The ugly head seemed bigger than ever and the eyes still seemed wick with life; they followed me as I walked towards the door.

The long chin curved upwards so much that it almost met the nose, making it unlike any creature I’d ever seen. As well as the dog-like ears and a long tongue protruding from its mouth, two short horns curved upwards from its skull and it suddenly reminded me of a goat.

I looked away and entered the cathedral, shivering at the sheer strangeness of the creature. Inside the building it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, and to my relief I saw that the place was almost empty.

I was afraid though for two reasons. Firstly I didn’t like being in the cathedral, where priests could appear at any moment. If Father Cairns was tricking me then I had just walked straight into his trap.

Secondly I was now in the Bane’s territory. Soon the day would draw in, and once the sun went down the Bane, like all creatures of the dark, would be at its most dangerous. Perhaps then its mind might reach up from the catacombs and seek me out. I had to get this business over with as quickly as possible.

Where was the confessional? There were just a couple of old ladies at the back of the cathedral, but an old man was kneeling near the front, close to the small door of a wooden box that stood with its back to the stone wall.

That told me what I wanted to know. There was an identical box a bit further along. The confessional boxes. Each had a candle fixed above it set within a blue glass holder. But only the one near the kneeling man was lit.

I walked down the right-hand aisle and knelt in the pew behind him. After a few moments the door to the confessional box opened and a woman wearing a black veil came out. She crossed the aisle and knelt in a pew further back while the old man went inside.

After a few moments I could hear him muttering. I’d never been to confession in my life but I had a pretty good idea of what went on. One of Dad’s brothers had become very religious before he’d died.

Dad always called him ‘Holy Joe’ but his real name was Matthew. He went to confession twice a week and after hearing his sins the priest gave him a big penance. That meant that afterwards he had to say lots of prayers over and over again. I supposed the old man was telling the priest about his sins.

The door stayed closed for what seemed an age and I started to grow impatient. Another thought struck me: what if it wasn’t Father Cairns inside but some other priest? I really would have to make a confession then or it would seem very suspicious. I tried to think of a few sins that might sound convincing. Was greed a sin? Or did you call it gluttony? Well, I certainly liked my food but I’d had nothing to eat all day and my belly was starting to rumble. Suddenly it seemed madness to be doing this.

In moments I could end up a prisoner.

I panicked and stood up to leave. It was only then that I noticed with relief a small card slotted into a holder on the door. A name was written on it: Father CAIRNS.

At that moment the door opened and the old man came out, so I took his place in the confessional and closed the door behind me. It was small and gloomy inside, and when I knelt down, my face was very close to a metal grille. Behind the grille was a brown curtain and, somewhere beyond that, a flickering candle. I couldn’t see a face through the grille, just the shadowy outline of a head.

‘Would you like me to hear your confession?’ The priest’s voice had a strong County accent and he breathed loudly.

I just shrugged. Then I realized that he couldn’t see me properly through the grille. ‘No, Father,’ I said, ‘but thank you for asking. I’m Tom, Mr Gregory’s apprentice. You wanted to see me.’

There was a slight pause before Father Cairns spoke. ‘Ah, Thomas, I’m glad you came. I asked you here because I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something very important, so I want you to stay here until I’ve finished. Will you promise me that you won’t leave until I’ve said what I have to say?’

‘I’ll listen,’ I replied doubtfully. I was wary of making promises now. In the spring I’d made a promise to Alice and it had got me in a whole lot of trouble.

‘That’s a good lad,’ he said. ‘We’ve made a good start to an important task. And do you know what that task is?’

I wondered whether he was talking about the Bane but thought it best not to mention that creature so close to the catacombs, so I said, ‘No, Father.’

‘Well, Thomas, we have to put together a plan. We have to work out how we can save your immortal soul. But you know what you have to do to begin the process, don’t you? You must walk away from John Gregory. You must cease practising that vile trade. Will you do that for me?’

‘I thought you wanted to see me about helping Mr Gregory,’ I said, starting to feel angry. ‘I thought he was in danger.’

‘He is, Thomas. We are here to help John Gregory but we must begin by helping you. So will you do what I ask?’

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘My dad paid good money for my apprenticeship and my mam would be even more disappointed. She says I’ve a gift and I have to use it to help people. That’s what spooks do. We go round helping people when they’re in danger from things that come out of the dark.’

There was a long silence. All I could hear was the priest’s breathing. Then I thought of something else.

‘I helped Father Gregory, you know,’ I blurted out. ‘He died later, it’s true, but I saved him from a worse death. At least he died in bed, in the warmth. He tried to get rid of a boggart,’ I explained, raising my voice a little. ‘That’s what got him into trouble in the first place. Mr Gregory could have sorted it out for him. He can do things that a priest can’t. Priests can’t get rid of boggarts because they don’t know how. It takes more than just a few prayers.’

I knew that I shouldn’t have said that about prayers and I expected him to get very angry. He didn’t.

He kept calm and that made it seem a whole lot worse.

‘Oh, yes, it takes much more,’ Father Cairns answered quietly, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

‘Much, much more. Do you know what John Gregory’s secret is, Thomas? Do you know the source of his power?’

‘Yes,’ I said, my own voice suddenly much calmer. ‘He’s studied for years, for the whole of his working life. He’s got a whole library full of books and he did an apprenticeship like me and he listened carefully to what his master said and wrote it down in notebooks, just like I do now.’

‘Don’t you think that we do the same? It takes long, long years to train for the priesthood. And priests are clever men being trained by even cleverer men. So how did you accomplish what Father Gregory couldn’t, despite the fact that he read from God’s holy book? How do you explain the fact that your master routinely does what his brother could not?’

‘It’s because priests have the wrong kind of training,’ I said. ‘And it’s because my master and I are both seventh sons of seventh sons.’

The priest made a strange noise behind the grille. At first I thought he was choking; then I realized I could hear laughter. He was laughing at me.

I thought that was very rude. My dad always says that you should respect other people’s opinions even if they sometimes seem daft.

‘That’s just superstition, Thomas,’ Father Cairns said at last. ‘Being the seventh son of a seventh son means nothing. It’s just an old wives’ tale. The true explanation for John Gregory’s power is something so terrible that it makes me shudder just to think about it. You see, John Gregory has made a pact with Hell. He’s sold his soul to the Devil.’

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. When I opened my mouth, no words came out so I just kept shaking my head.

‘It’s true, Thomas. All his power comes from the Devil. What you and other County folk call boggarts are just lesser devils who only yield because their master bids them do that. It’s worth it to the Devil because, in return, one day he’ll get hold of John Gregory’s soul. And a soul is precious to God, a thing of brightness and splendour, and the Devil will do anything to dirty it with sin and drag it down into the eternal flames of Hell.’

‘What about me?’ I said, getting angry again. ‘I’ve not sold my soul. But I saved Father Gregory.’

“That’s easy, Thomas. You’re a servant of the Spook, as you call him, who, in turn, is a servant of the Devil. So the power of evil is on loan to you while you serve. But of course, if you were to complete your training in evil and prepare to practise your vile trade as master rather than apprentice, then it would be your turn. You too would have to sign away your soul. John Gregory hasn’t yet told you this because you’re too young, but he would certainly do so one day. And when that day arrived, it would come as no surprise because you’d remember my words to you now. John Gregory has made many serious mistakes in his life and has fallen a long, long way from grace. Do you know that he was once a priest?’

I nodded. ‘I know that already.’

‘And do you know how, just fresh from ordination as a priest, he came to leave his calling? Do you know of his shame?’

I didn’t reply. I knew that Father Cairns was going to tell me anyway.

‘Some theologians have argued that a woman does not have a soul. That debate continues, but of one thing we can be certain - a priest cannot take a wife, because it would distract him from his devotion to God. John Gregory’s failing was doubly bad: not only was he distracted by a woman but that woman was already betrothed to one of his own brothers. It tore the family apart. Brother turned against brother over a woman called Emily Burns.’

By now I didn’t like Father Cairns one little bit and knew that if he’d talked to my mam about women not having souls, she’d have flayed him with her tongue to within an inch of his life. But I was curious about the Spook. Firstly I’d heard about Meg and now I was being told that, even earlier, he’d been involved with this Emily Burns. I was astonished and wanted to know more.

‘Did Mr Gregory marry Emily Burns?’ I asked, spitting my question right out.

‘Never in the eyes of God,’ answered the priest. ‘She came from Blackrod, where our family has its roots, and lives there alone to this day. Some say they quarrelled, but whatever the case John Gregory eventually took another woman, whom he met in the far north of the County and brought south. Her name was Margery Skelton, a notorious witch. The locals knew her as Meg, and in time she became feared and loathed across the breadth of Anglezarke Moor and the towns and villages to the south of the County.’

I said nothing. I know that he expected me to be shocked. I was, at everything he’d said, but reading the Spook’s diary back in Chipenden had prepared me for the worst.

Father Cairns gave another deep sniff then coughed deep in his throat. ‘Do you know which of his six brothers John Gregory wronged?’

I’d already guessed. ‘Father Gregory,’ I answered.

‘In devout families such as the Gregorys, it is the tradition that one son takes Holy Orders. When John threw away his vocation, another brother took his place and began training for the priesthood. Yes, Thomas, it was Father Gregory, the brother we buried today. He lost his betrothed and he lost his brother. What else could he do but turn to God?’

When I’d arrived, the church had been almost empty, but as we’d talked I’d become aware of sounds outside the confessional box. There’d been footsteps and the increasing murmur of voices. Now, suddenly, a choir began to sing. It would be well after seven by now and the sun would already have set.

I decided to make an excuse and leave but just as I opened my mouth I heard Father Cairns come to his feet.

‘Come with me, Thomas,’ he said. ‘I want to show you something.’

I heard him open his door and go out into the church, so I followed.

He beckoned me towards the altar where, led by another priest, neatly arranged in three rows of ten, a choir of altar boys was standing on the steps. Each wore a black cassock and white surplice.

Father Cairns halted and put his bandaged hand on my right shoulder.

‘Listen to them, Thomas. Don’t they sound like holy angels?’

I’d never heard an angel sing so I couldn’t answer, but they certainly made a better noise than my dad, who used to start singing as we got near to the end of the milking. His voice was bad enough to turn the milk sour.

‘You could have been a member of that choir, Thomas. But you’ve left it too late. Your voice is already beginning to deepen and a chance to serve has been lost.’

He was right about that. Most of the boys were younger than me and their voices were more like girls’

than lads’. In any case, my singing wasn’t much better than my dad’s.

‘Still, there are other things you can do. Let me show you...’