Time of the Beast Page 7

  ‘You have eaten bad bread!’ I turned abruptly to see a second figure inside the gloom of my dwelling. A young man, fair-haired and handsome in the way of the Angles. He wore a green tunic and to his back were strapped a travelling-bag and a spear. I saw then that he held the sack which had contained my bread loaves, and in his hand he raised the last loaf, now black with mould, and went on: ‘It is the growth upon your bread which has affected you. You must take care in these Fenlands, for they are not like any place you have known before. The air here is sometimes a cause of strange effects.’

  At once I understood him, and with his words my mind flooded back into vivid memories of my visions in the night. I knew it was the practice of pagan shamans and wonderworkers to use certain natural growths, plants and fungi, to create altered states of mind. They claimed this was a passage into the world of spirits. But the Church condemned the use of these substances, dismissing their effects as mere hallucination and temporary insanity. Once more I began to pray that all the things I had seemingly witnessed had been only illusions and febrile dreams. But as I lay wrapped just in my cloak and saw my soiled robe discarded on the floor, I felt deep within me a horrible doubt that this could be so, and I wondered again what parts of my terrifying remembrances might be real.

  ‘Forgive our intrusion, Brother,’ said the young man with a friendly smile. ‘Our path has led us here, where we came upon you sleeping and feverish. We are on a mission of great urgency and importance, by command of Ecbehrt, lord of the Gyrwas people, and we are charged as we go to make sure of the safety of inhabitants of these lands.’

  ‘And to question them.’ Now the monk spoke, and his voice was deep and resonant, and carried a strange accent that sounded lilting and almost musical. ‘To determine if they have knowledge of any recent disturbances.’ He laid emphasis on this last word as he raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  ‘Last night,’ I gasped out, finding my voice at last. Even as I spoke the words it seemed to me clearly a thing beyond coincidence that these strangers should have arrived here at this time – that their presence was somehow related to my nighttime experiences. ‘I went out onto the fen… and I saw…’ I shook my head, for I could not tell truly what I had seen ‘…I fear… I fear it was something terrible!’ I concluded miserably.

  At once the monk strode to my side, flint-faced as he stared down at me.

  ‘What did you see? Tell me now.’

  ‘Monsters!’ I groaned. ‘To my eyes they looked like… monsters. They attacked me. But then something else attacked them. Something worse… more horrible and monstrous still. But I had eaten the bread… the bad bread. I understand now that I saw nothing clearly or truly, that my wits were unbalanced and my sight distorted.’

  The monk turned from me and spoke to the other man.

  ‘You must trace his path out into the marshes. We must learn the truth of this.’

  Together they departed from my dwelling, with no further words to me. Hurriedly I pulled on my spare robe, intent on going with them, for I too must know the truth of these things. But first, with a sudden sense of fear and foreboding at the prospect of venturing back out onto the fen, I felt a need to carry with me a thing for my comfort of mind and my protection. And I went to my chapel to take down from the wall my small cross, and held it to my breast as I hurried out after them.

  Already they had crossed over the bridge, and in the dull morning light the younger man was searching the ground for signs of my tracks. Almost at once he was moving forward, darting to and fro among the trees, and as I approached them he called back to me without looking around.

  ‘A twisted path, but see – your wanderings are easy to follow. You blundered like a lame boar. Much dangerous in these marshlands.’

  ‘My name is Brother Athwold,’ I said, looking at the monk as I came to walk at his side. ‘Please tell me what is your mission. What are you doing here?’

  He turned his head to look at me, his gaze at once hard and intense, but we had left the cover of the trees and were moving out into the marshes before he spoke.

  ‘I might ask you the same question. What is it that would induce a young monk to abandon his home and his brothers in Christ to seek exile in such a place?’

  ‘I came here to find God… and myself,’ I answered cautiously, for I felt I detected in his voice a note of disapproval, and at once he firmly reminded me of Abbot Adelard.

  ‘Then you look for God in a land that is godforsaken,’ he muttered. ‘For all that there are now Christian settlements upon the larger Fenland islands, most of the native fen-men still cling obstinately to the old ways. Do not doubt it is the Devil who rules here.’

  ‘Then you are a missionary?’ I said.

  ‘I am Brother Cadroc,’ he replied – probably a British name – ‘and my companion is Aelfric, a ranger of these lands, appointed by Ealdorman Ecbehrt to be my guide here.’

  Now we fell silent while I felt a vague sense of resentment at what I perceived to be Brother Cadroc’s judgemental manner, disguising itself as Christian righteousness. It was a form of self-regard I had known in other churchmen, who deceived themselves into believing it a genuine concern for the welfare of others. But then I saw that my own attitude was unjust. The fact was that here in this place, Brother Cadroc represented the scrutiny and appraisal of the Church, from which I had lately been exempt, and to which I must now learn once more to submit myself. What I felt in truth was a growing sense of apprehension at the thought of what I might find in the marshes ahead, for while my attackers in the night had seemed wholly monstrous to my eyes, yet I hoped my eyes had been deceived, for the Church had told me such monsters did not exist, and all that was rational in my mind was intent on believing this. It felt almost as if my faith itself depended on it. But as there came to me the dreadful recollection of that huge and shadowy figure, spreading death all about it, a deep fear and uncertainty filled my heart, for it seemed to my every underlying sense that what I had seen, however deranged my perceptions, simply could not have been human.

  ‘There!’ Aelfric called out, pointing ahead. His pace quickened, and as I followed him a feeling of shock and numbness fell upon me as I saw among the reeds a corpse lying prostrate, half submerged in a pool of mud and blood. As we came to it, I observed that its head was twisted to one side, the face partly exposed, and a swelling of nausea and dread rose in me as I gazed upon it, and the worst of my fears was realised. For it was surely the face of nothing human, but a vile and disfigured thing of the utmost horror, its black misshapen features grotesquely swollen about a giant gaping maw filled with blood and shattered teeth.

  ‘There are others!’ Cadroc said, moving onward. A short distance beyond lay four more bodies, scattered about the burnt-out remains of a fire, over which hung the charred carcass of an animal, and I knew beyond doubt that this was the place I had chanced upon in the night. But as I began to study the carnage some part of me felt almost a sense of relief, for it soon became clear to me that these corpses, beneath all their horrible mutilations, were those of men – if one might call such savages men. My tormentors had been common outlaws – filthy and debased creatures, certainly, but undeniably human. Then I understood that the first corpse we had discovered had been likewise only a man, whose face had been simply ripped apart. And as I looked about me at these others, their lifeless expressions stricken with terror, their flesh slashed and mangled by great raking wounds; then glanced with a shudder at the body of the woman who had mocked me, lying face-down with the flesh on her back torn into shreds, it seemed to me almost as if the injuries inflicted here had not been done by any weapon of man, but appeared more like the crazed ravages of giant claws.

  ‘We are still upon the trail,’ Cadroc said to Aelfric at last, ‘and our task grows ever more desperate.’ I began to stumble away, feeling sick and unable to bear the distressing scene any longer. But Cadroc came after me saying: ‘You must tell us what it was you saw. What do you recall? I must inform you that you a
re so far the only witness to the terror who has survived it.’

  ‘I told you I remember only confusion!’ I cried out, growing frantic with alarm to have seen the dreadful fate I had so narrowly escaped. ‘It is you who must tell me what it is I have witnessed. Tell me what has happened here!’

  ‘I have no time,’ Cadroc said, turning away. ‘My path calls me onward and I cannot delay.’

  ‘Look!’ Aelfric called out, standing nearby and pointing to the ground. I went with Cadroc to his side and felt a shudder ripple through me as I saw there in the watery sludge what looked to be the faint outline of a footprint, yet one that seemed to be of truly enormous size, surely bigger than that of any man I had ever seen. And yet, I sought to reassure myself, the print was too vague to be certain of this. But then I noticed that I held my cross in both hands, and had come to grip it so tightly that it hurt my fingers. Slowly I slipped it into the pouch inside my robe.

  ‘We go on!’ Cadroc declared firmly. With this, both men simply began to walk away from me. But I hurried after them, calling out:

  ‘Brother! Wait! After what I have suffered you cannot leave me like this, without explanation.’

  Cadroc gave me a glance filled with impatience, but then something in him seemed to change, and his look became milder as he turned to me and said:

  ‘Forgive my discourtesy, Brother Athwold, but I fear my task consumes me to the detriment of all other considerations. Walk with us if you will, and I will tell you what I know. It may be my words will help to stir your memories.’

  So we set off, Aelfric going in front to guide us along the winding pathways through the marshes. I had never ventured far from my hermitage before and feared that my journey back home through these wild swamps might be difficult. Yet I must know the things this man Cadroc had to impart. I must learn the truth of this awful matter to which by misfortune I had been a witness.

  ‘You have seen,’ Cadroc began, ‘that a thing of great evil haunts these Fenlands. It began with the whispers that men went missing on the marshes – far more than is usual – and relentlessly the rumours grew, until the true horror became manifest. Now the assailant grows bolder. It comes with the dark and in the mists to bring terror and death, moving with great stealth to attack the villages and farms, to prey upon the unsuspecting, invading and murdering while the people sleep, bringing swift and terrible destruction. Then it is gone, vanished without trace into the night. It is no mere thief or raider, for it seems its only purpose is to kill with hideous brutality. The native men say it is not human. They claim it is a shadow walker – a thyrs. Perhaps you have heard of these horrors? Dark monstrous spirits that dwell in the depths of the swamps and are always thirsty for human blood. Belief in them is strong in these lands, and they are greatly dreaded.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, feeling again with a shiver the full impact of my horrible experiences. ‘I fear you are right that the fenmen remain pagans at heart. I have personally found cause to reprimand them for their crude superstitions.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He nodded and looked at me keenly as if to invite my further comment.

  ‘Men who are afraid will imagine much,’ I went on, intent on expressing my scorn for such foolish beliefs, even as I felt my sense of agitation rising. ‘These marshes are dangerous, even to the locals who know them. They will quickly swallow a man without trace. It is natural for men to give monstrous forms to the common dangers which threaten them. Also the Fenlands are populated by outlaws and renegades, those cast out from human society, made vengeful and insane by their solitude and abandonment. I have seen how in extremis mere men may appear like monsters. I have also heard it said that occasionally there are men who conceal within them an insane desire to kill for the sake of killing. This murderer is surely only a man, but one possessed by such a fearsome madness… most likely by a demon.’ I felt now a desperate need to believe in the truth of my own words, in those things which the Church had taught me, but once more my recollection of that huge, murderous and seemingly inhuman figure in the night rose into my mind to undermine all certainty and cast a chilling shadow of doubt deep within me.

  ‘In fact,’ Cadroc said, ‘you are wrong, and the fen-men nearer to the truth. I must tell you that what stalks this land is not a man but truly a monster. A hellish thing emerged into our mortal world.’

  ‘It cannot be so!’ I said with shock. ‘You are a monk of the Rule of St. Benedict. You surely do not believe in pagan tales of monsters?’

  ‘This is not an earthly creature,’ he answered, ‘but a demon in corporeal form. I am a Briton, born in the wild forestland of Elmet, and I can assure you I have good reason to know this. There are old and dreadful secrets in these lands which are known to we whose blood has dwelt here for many generations. The power of the Devil holds sway in these Fens. But I am versed in the ways of battling with the Evil One.’ Grim-faced, he reached up to clasp the cross on his breast, as his other hand delved beneath the folds of his cloak to reveal a sword in a scabbard which hung from his belt, while he grasped the hilt firmly.

  ‘You are the first monk I have known to carry a sword,’ I said.

  ‘I was not born a monk. In my youth I trained as a warrior. But now I have joined the war-band of Christ. I was raised in the kingdom of Elmet, in the tenets of the British Church. But I fled from my homeland years ago when the pagan barbarian King Penda invaded. Terrible days they were. Yes, indeed. Most terrible. It was later that I took the tonsure and converted to the Roman ways. When Lord Ecbehrt in desperation sent word to my abbot Botwulf, requesting the services of an exorcist to rid his land of this curse, my knowledge and experience ensured my appointment to the task. Ecbehrt is a Christian convert who deplores the stubbornness and backward ways of his own people. So you see that also there exists here a great opportunity for the Church against the vile sacrilege of paganism – the earthly hand of Satan. For now the people cower with fear inside their villages and pray to their devil-gods to protect them. When I overcome this monster, who will then be able to deny the supremacy of Christ over the heathen gods which have failed them?’

  ‘You are hunting this murderer alone?’ I said in disbelief. ‘But how can you ever hope to track him down in this great wilderness?’

  ‘My mission is ordained by God!’ he answered simply. ‘Yet there is more. I have followed the demon’s trail from the Isle of Elge, to the south. Always it heads northward, as it visits its wrath and destruction upon the isolated settlements. Further to the north lie the deepest and darkest regions of the Fens, the lair from which I am convinced the horror has risen, and where I am sure it will seek to return. The northern settlements are remote and few, but this dark one’s rage will not spare them, and once there I will close upon this devil and run it to ground. I will pursue it to the gates of Hell if I must.’ Once more his face grew hard as he nodded gravely. Then he said: ‘But it should not surprise us, we men of the Church, that such horrors occur at this time. Consider the year we are living in. “Let him who has comprehension reckon the number of the Beast: its number is six hundred and sixty-six.” Tempus Bestiam – the time of the Beast. It is most surely a portent, a foreshadowing of the time to come: the Last Days, when Satan himself will break free from the eternal abyss.’

  I shook my head. In my present state of mind I did not wish to discuss with him the fearful book of St. John’s Revelation.

  ‘The prophecy also reads: “It is the number of a man”,’ I observed. ‘What if I am right, and you find this demon to learn that he is only a savage madman? How will your words of exorcism protect you from a mortal murderer?’

  He frowned at me as if I were mocking him, then replied:

  ‘Do not doubt that I have knowledge in these matters.’ He reached inside his robe and produced a small hide-bound book which he opened before me, and I saw upon its pages grotesque diagrams of demonic figures and writings in a text I did not recognise – presumably some form of Celtic. ‘As I have said, knowledge and experience.’ Then he t
urned to point back in the direction from which we had come, saying: ‘I have given you the explanation you asked for. It is time for you to return safely home. No doubt our arrival has disturbed the routine of your daily devotions. Farewell.’

  So he dismissed me, and now it seemed that his words mocked me. I looked back to the remote woodland where my dwelling stood, realising suddenly how far away from it we had come. Yet the distant sight of it as it lay bleakly beneath a cluster of dark heavy clouds felt at once overwhelmingly dismal and oppressive, as I recalled for the first time since awakening the burdensome duty I owed this day to Ailisa, and gloomily anticipated my future solitude and confinement here. A kind of mad panic seemed suddenly to descend on me. I grew breathless while a cold sweat covered my body as I felt simply that I could no longer endure the misery of my situation. What Cadroc had implied seemed utterly true: of what use was I to anyone, alone and raving day after day in my cell as I slipped ever further towards madness? How could this achieve the redemption of my soul? Then, in that instant, as if with the force of divine inspiration, it seemed I understood with total clarity the meaning of it all, and I knew at once with certainty what it was I must do. With no time to consider further, I spun about and raced after the two men as they moved away.

  ‘Brother, wait!’ I called out. ‘Forgive me if I appeared to doubt you.’ Cadroc waved his hand at me as if to brush the matter aside, but I went on: ‘I have indeed remembered something more, to reconcile our opinions. Whether this marauder is a man possessed by a demon, or truly a devil in the flesh, I must accept that it is an unholy creature. When I fled the scene of slaughter I sensed its presence come after me. In terror I cried out with holy words, and when I looked back it was gone. This is surely the reason that I alone have survived such an attack?’ In fact I could not be sure of this – my feeling that I had been stalked by the killer as I fled from the massacre might simply have been born of my delirium and dread – but it seemed expedient now to say it, and indeed in that moment it felt like the truth to me. Cadroc gave a slight nod to indicate that I told him only that of which he was already certain. As he went to move on, my own purpose was becoming ever clearer, and as I continued to speak I reached out to grip his arm and detain him. ‘Brother Cadroc, your fortitude and zeal have inspired me. There is more I must tell you. In the night I had a dream. And in this dream the evil thing from the fen came to me and we fought a great battle. It all seemed vivid and real and most terrifying, but I see now it was a sign and an injunction I dare not ignore. I awoke from this dream to find you at my bedside, then discovered that you are a godly man set upon a quest to fight with darkness itself.’ I paused for a moment as I gathered courage to say now what I knew I must. ‘I would go with you to confront the darkness. To do battle with the Devil. I see now it is what God demands of me.’