The Curious Quests of Brigadier Ffellowes (5 page)

             
"I was not very close to the foundation, but no more than several yards, and suddenly out of a hole I had not even seen in the rocks, a little to my right, a man's head popped out, making me start back. We stared at each other for a second in silence, and then the man whisked down into the cavity from which he had emerged so silently. Now, I could hear movement below, and the dark visage of the person whom I sought appeared. Lord Lionel climbed out easily, and I now noticed the very tip of a ladder protruding from the black hole behind him. Two other men followed
him, and the three stood watching me attentively for a moment
.

             
"Lord Lionel was the first to break the chilly atmosphere, though he did not sound
particularly friendly.

             
" 'Ffellowes, eh? Come to look over the dig? Didn't know you chaps at the War Office ever got outdoors these days, let alone took an interest in archaeology.'

             
"Now this was a bad mistake, and if I were right in my gathering suspicion, the first the man had made. That I was attached to the War Office and not doing regular duty in my own branch of service was not all that well-known a fact
.
James knew it because he had asked very high up indeed. That much I had checked. But this meant that Lord Lionel had also been asking questions about me. I let none of this show in my face but looked casually about, while very conscious of his intent gaze. And I managed to get my first good look at his two helpers. They were interesting, too.

             
"They might have been brothers and perhaps were. Both were short massive men, very swarthy, unshaven and dirty
-
looking in soiled work clothes. They had high cheekbones and narrow black eyes, eyes in which I read contempt and dislike as they watched me impassively.

             
"Lionel must have noticed something, since he suddenly spoke harshly to them in a language I had never before heard, a tongue both lilting and harsh at the same time. I suppose it might have been Cornish, as James thought, but these two looked like nothing I had ever seen in Cornwall, or anywhere in the British Isles, for that matter.

             
"Both men ducked back down the ladder, and as they vanished into the depths, something stirred in my memory. Men like these and piles of black stones somehow went together, as if belonging! No, what was that memory?

             
" 'Not much to see, I'm afraid, Ffellowes. I'm still trying to clear a lower passage. There have been a number of rock falls. It's a bad place and only for experts. Can't ask you down, I fear, since the risk is mine should you happen to be hurt
.
'

             
Under this show of concern lay an almost open sneer. I was not to be allowed down, whatever the pretext, that was plain.

             
" 'Shouldn't dream of troubling you,' I answered, keeping my face as blank as I could. 'I'm sure you and these chaps of yours know how to work in safety. Never cared for scrambling about in holes, myself.' I dared not be too much the silly ass, but I could hint at it 'What was that jabber you were giving them? Some
Wog
or Gyppo language?'

             
"His dark eyes narrowed as he studied me. I hoped I had not overdone the Pukka Sahib image. The wind soughed and wailed around us as he answered slowly.

             
" 'Yes, it's an Arab dialect
.
My helpers were trained in the field by my own methods, in the Near East
.
This way they don't gossip. I don't like gossip, Ffellowes, or prying either.' He took a step closer to me. 'Now,
M
y dear captain, I have work to do. I suggest you finish your Cook's tour elsewhere. Perhaps,' he added, 'you can go back and hold my brother's hand. He seems to need it, now that he's taken to believing in bogey men.' The malice was naked and so was something else. James had told me that his brother held him in contempt
.
But this was not contempt that I saw, but
pure hatred, a very different thing.

             
" 'I say, that's a bit raw,' I mumbled. 'Still, if you have things to do, I'll push on.' What I should have liked to do was push in his nasty face, or have a good stab at it
.
I had determined not to lose my control, and I turned away still mumbling inaudibly.

             
"I thought that was to be the end of the encounter, but I was wrong. I had underestimated the depths of Lord Lionel's anger. His temper, always evil under the surface, now flared up. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I was spun around to find him glaring at me from a foot away, his face bone-white with passion.

             
" 'You can tell my brother to stay out of my hair!' he hissed at me, his voice actually shaking. 'Tell him to stay away from here and keep his damned house pets out of my
business, too, or, by heaven, I'll give him something to really moan about! Now, get out!'

             
"This was too much, even for my role of chartered idiot I chopped his hand aside with the edge of mine, a blow that really hurt, and had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. 'I think, sir,' I said coldly, 'that you have been in too many primitive places recently. You forget yourself. This is England, you know.'

             
"I meant to infuriate him further, in the hope of learning more, but I was only partly successful. His face contorted in fresh rage, but suddenly changed. Over it instead, stole a most malignant and evil smile.

             
" 'Yes,' he said in quiet tones. 'Now how could I have forgot that? We are in Merry Old England.' And he began to laugh! Still chuckling, he stalked over to the gap in his ruin and lowered himself down, without giving me the benefit of another glance.

             
"I walked back toward the house over the main track, having no reason to conceal myself any longer. As I walked I tried to puzzle out all the mixed and convoluted things and impressions that swam about my mind. One of them was the realization that whatever tongue his lordship had used to his men, it was nothing out of the Near East
.
I knew something of those languages even as a young man, and the inflections were totally different
.
So, why had he lied? Because the real truth would have meant something, would have given some clue as to what he was doing? I concentrated. James thought the language to be Cornish or something like it
.
It was not Gaelic or even Welsh. I did not speak either, but had heard both often enough. Could it be the soft Celtic of Ireland (though that was a rare speech even back then). No, the consonants were far too harsh and clipped, and those two stunted giants looked like no Sons of Erin in my experience. The answer lay elsewhere, and as I thought, the vision of those two and the great black stones came unbidden to my mind, and with the vision came the
solution. There was another Gaelic, or rather Celtic tongue still in use in Europe! I saw in my mind the great
menhirs
and dolmens of Brittany, the stones of mist-shrouded Carnac, lost in antiquity, about which dark legends still circulated among the peasants. Those two were Bretons!

             
"Now why should the employment of Bretons be a secret? I racked my brain as I strode along past the cliff cottage, paying the place no heed, since I knew it to be empty. I think I later
paid for this piece of
egregrious
stupidity, since I might possibly have had a very useful look around. But, meanwhile, I was turning over in my mind what I knew of Brittany, ancient and modern, which was damned little, actually. I knew, and don't ask me why, that they had a dismal separatist movement from France and even a 'national anthem
'
, whose name
sounded like 'Bro
Goz
Ma
Zadou
'
.
This meant nothing. I surmised that it was the past of Brittany, the last Celtic stronghold on the continent, that was important
.
And of that I knew little. No one seemed to know who had built Carnac. The whole peninsula had always been a hotbed of legends and folktales, even before medieval times. Among other things, King John, Richard the Lion Heart's most unpleasant brother, had murdered his nephew, Duke Arthur of Brittany, who had a better claim to the Plantagenet throne that he. And what else? Something was just out of reach in my mind! Legends, cults, Carnac, Prince Arthur (why that name?), Celtic mysticism, black stones, west winds, apples, all of this mishmash meant something, if only I could think of what!

             
"By this time, I was at the house and I hurried in to tell James what I had seen. We sat
in the old drawing room, and I related my afternoon to both of them. Isobel, after pouring tea, told me that none of it, save for one thing, conveyed anything much to her.

             
" 'You've seen what he's like, Donald,' she said. 'You have no idea, really, what poor James has had to put up with, even going back to childhood. Many of the stories are
family secrets. No, James, I simply won't be silent any longer, not to Donald. Why was he asked here, if not to help?' James subsided into a chair, muttering 'dirty linen' into his tea cup.

             
" 'I think you are quite correct,' she went on to me, 'about this hatred, I mean. Yes, he has pretended to find James silly and stupid, but I have seen him look at James when he thought no one else was watching. He hates you, darling, and always has.' She turned back to me, her tired face still glowing with love.

             
" 'When they were still little, Donald, still in the nursery, Lionel tried to kill James. They are only two years apart in age. He packed a fruit cake, or rather James' portion, with ground glass! I don't think he could have been eight years old!'

             
"My friend looked at me after she had spoken. 'I'm afraid it's true, you know. Had a good old nanny, who didn't take to Lionel, and she saw him do it
.
Told Dad, and we were sent off to separate schools. If it hadn't been for an open scandal and mother's weeping, I think it might have come out in the open. As it was, Dad made him see some alienist or something: they were just coming in then. I've seen the medical reports. Chap said he could do nothing with Lionel, nothing at all, and would be afraid to try. Fact is, I've never felt quite safe while he was nearby. Sounds silly, but Isobel and I have no kids, which makes him heir. Rotten thing to suspect your own brother, but he's been such an all
-
round bloody piece of work
...
' His voice trailed off.

             
" 'That's the oldest of all crimes,' I said in a tight voice, 'murder for a throne or title. If you get away with it, it's called rebellion. One thing is clear to me, and that is that all your present troubles have started since your brother came on the scene. To my knowledge, and I'd like this confirmed, there has never been any trouble of any even vaguely supernatural nature in this house, or around it, until recently?'

             
"Isobel looked at James. After all, it was his house. He shook his head, finally. 'No,' he said, 'I can think of nothing. I expect I would have heard, too. I used to be awfully put down about it as a kid at school, come to think of it
.
All the others had places with Anne Boleyn or someone walking, and Cavaliers on the battlements. When they asked me, I had nothing to tell them, not even a monk or headless serf, or whatever. No, Donald, there has never been anything of the kind here.'

             
"I could only take refuge in silence. Poor devil, if my slowly coalescing ideas were correct, he was about to get an overabundance of all the things he had treated so lightly!

             
"We dined early. There was little conversation, and that was of a nature which omitted any discussion of what we were awaiting. Traheal came up the stairs with me, and I knew that, on his part, it was no accident
.
'Well, sir,' he said hoarsely, 'have you got some idea now of what we are going through?'

             
"I stared at him, not out of any class consciousness, I assure you, but simply because my thoughts were elsewhere. Then, I realized that a good man was asking for information.