Humpty's Bones (7 page)

13. Friday: Noon

Eden Page worked on arranging the bones. Heather had already laid out the rest of the skeleton on the table - collarbone, ribs, pelvis, thigh bones, shin, the tiny pebble shaped bones of the ankle. Most were charred, which left a black scale. The stink of burning still pricked her nostrils. What occupied Eden now were the shards of skull. She retrieved the canine remains from the bowl marked ‘Miscellaneous’, then carefully, painstakingly, with a furrowed brow, she assembled the skull fragments - the dog-like jaw complete with incisors, the thick brow ridge, the smoother, broader plates of the crown of the head.

As she worked, she murmured a nursery rhyme to herself :
‘Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses, And all the king’s men, Couldn’t put Humpty’s
bones
together again.’

Heather entered with the bright announcement, ‘Coffee.’ Then she saw Eden’s handiwork. ‘Damn you, Eden! I told you not to do that. Are you really intent on pulling some kind of stunt to scare Curtis away? This is our home. I won’t let you drive us out, you bloody monster!’ She slammed the cups down on the desk hard enough to splash half the contents out. Then she advanced on her niece as if ready to punch her. ‘Get away from that!’

‘No, hear me out.’

‘I’m warning you. Bloody werewolves? You think I’m stupid?’

‘You’ve had trouble before, haven’t you?’

‘I’m not discussing that with you. Put those skull fragments back in the bowl.’ Heather bunched her fist.

Eden stood her ground. ‘I won’t. And you are going to listen to me. I’ve been working it out. I’m starting to understand.’

‘Eden! Get the damn train back to wherever you came from.’

‘Heather.’ Eden spoke with utter conviction. ‘You didn’t read your mother’s notes properly. General Gallus described the First Man as the Theopolis. That the city of gods was
inside
of him. The General also stated that he was the living embodiment of the pantheon. Do you see what he was driving at?’

‘Take the skull bones away, then we’ll talk.’ Despite her anger Heather was intrigued. ‘You might have thought doing that was a joke. Let me tell you, it’s - ’

‘Heather, listen. You’ve had trouble here before, haven’t you?’

‘Yes... ’
It pained Heather to admit it. Even then she quickly dismissed its importance. ‘Just Hezzle’s farm dogs. They were running amok. Making a hell of a mess in the garden. Scratching. Gnawing the car, for heaven sakes.’

‘You saw Mr Hezzle’s dogs?’

‘We didn’t have to. It was obvious they were his. Savage things they are.’

‘So you never actually saw them attacking the garden?’

‘Does it matter? Please, Eden. Before Curtis gets home put the skull fragments back in the bowl, and whatever happens don’t mention the word “werewolf”.’

‘I won’t even breathe the word “werewolf”.’ Eden spoke with confidence. ‘Besides, this skull has nothing to do with dogs or werewolves.’

‘Amen to that.’ Heather’s relief was heartfelt. ‘Another mention of werewolves and I’d scream, God help me, I would.’

‘Look, just bear with me for moment.’ Eden picked up her grandmother’s file. ‘First, the sketch of the congregation. Back in 1968 they are genuinely angry. They have just been told that my grandma - your mother - is translating that odious religious zealot’s book. Mr Hezzle and the rest knew about the Hermit’s life-hating, woman-hating mission. They also know full well that this bigot petitioned the local Bishop to conduct rites of exorcism on the land in 1488. Some bones were dug up by the Bishop’s priests, burnt, then reburied. He also had the Bishop come to the parish church here in Dog Lands to tell the congregation that the First Man was evil, ungodly, the worst kind of pagan. In fact, he went through the First Man’s teachings point by point in order to rubbish them. But then the Bishop finished his speech to the locals with what he believed would be the clincher. The killer blow that would make everyone despise the First Man.’

‘And that was?’

‘See for yourself. It’s here before you.’ Eden nodded at the table.

Heather’s eyes widened. ‘You’re saying the skeleton really is complete?’

By way of reply Eden read from the file. ‘“The Bishop struck the lectern as he cried out in a fierce voice:
How can any right thinking person of this Kingdom believe the words of a man that wears the head of an ape?
”‘

‘This is the skeleton of the First Man?’

‘And it’s his skull. Only it’s not a dog’s skull. It’s superficially dog-like maybe. But then apparently baboons have heads that resemble a dog’s.’

‘Poor devil. Then he was deformed?’

Eden leaned forward to gaze into the eye sockets of the broken skull. ‘A deformed man, who a Roman general identified as having the city of the gods inside of him? Something that excited the Emperor so much that nineteen hundred years ago he declared this “poor devil”,
as you put it, be worshipped?’

‘That must be it.’

‘No, it’s not the whole story.’

‘You found this out from my mother’s notes? They were just random jottings. Nothing coherent.’

‘I found this at the back of the file.’ Eden unfolded a sheet of paper covered with fierce handwriting. There was so much ink it seemed to obliterate every square inch of white. ‘It’s a letter from Albert Hezzle, dated 4
th
October, 1968: two days after the same harvest festival where your mother sketched the congregation’s anger, when the vicar told them about the translation of the zealot’s book. The villagers hated the Hermit. They loved the First Man.’

Heather stared at the letter as if it smouldered in Eden’s fingers, just about to burst into flame and consume them all. ‘My mother received that letter, then stopped work on the translation?’

Eden nodded.

Heather turned back to the skeleton. ‘It seems as if Humpty, or more correctly the First Man, still wields influence.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘They’re a superstitious lot round here. A perceived bad omen can put the wind up them.’

‘No, as I told you, it’s not fear that the First Man inspires... it is Love.’

Her aunt shrugged. ‘So? He’s dead. Long, long dead.’

‘But something lives on.’

‘What? His wandering spirit?’

Eden shook her head. ‘His teachings.’

‘They’ll be of academic interest to historians. That’s all.’

‘According to Mr Hezzle’s letter the First Man’s knowledge is very much alive - albeit locally - and is something of a village secret. What’s more, the Hezzle family hoped that one day all of humanity will receive what they term “the Gift”.’

‘“And as soon as we receive this marvellous Gift, humanity will be saved”,’ concluded Heather with sigh. ‘If we had a golden nugget for every religion that’s promised salvation of our eternal souls... ’

‘It’s not about souls and the after-life. The First Man’s Gift would apparently improve the quality of life here on Earth.’

‘That’s very laudable. But undoubtedly delusional.’

‘According to grandma’s notes and Mr Hezzle’s letter, which is incredibly detailed, I’ve worked out the jist of... ’ Eden nodded at the bones on the table, ‘... the nature of his Gift.’

‘And?’

‘The First Man would father the children of local women. By the hundred, or even the thousand.’

They both looked up as thunder rumbled in the distance. A sound suggestive of prowling menace.

‘Ah, sex.’ Heather gave a knowing smile. ‘I should have known that the Gift of any self-proclaimed male hero would involve a stonking, great harem, so he could enjoy unfettered shagging rights.’

Thunder growled again. It grew darker inside the room as storm clouds loomed above the dreary expanse of fields. A car took the bend in the highway just a little too quickly. Its tyres squealed in protest. A moment later it accelerated safely away from the evil crook in the road.

Eden shook her head. ‘You might be a cynic, Heather, but local people, just like the Romans, believed in the First Man’s Gift.’

She turned back to the skeletal puzzle on the table and completed the brow ridge above one eye with a fingernail-sized fragment of bone that fitted perfectly. The face didn’t seem to resemble a dog so much now. Instead, something else emerged.

Eden spoke fluently, confidently: ‘The followers of the First Man realised this important fact: that the children he fathered with local women grew up to be superior to other children. They were stronger, more intelligent, more resistant to illness, and enjoyed a much longer life-span.’

‘So why did the Roman general describe the First Man as the Theopolis?’

‘Because General Gallus talked to him. Gallus possessed an enquiring mind. He knew that each Roman god and goddess had their own special talents: Mars, the god of war; Juno presided over marriage and children; Saturn, the god of agriculture. As you know, the Romans believed there was a whole bunch of deities in heaven. Gallus figured out that these godlike talents, or more accurately “fields of expertise”, had become fused into individuals known as the First Men. Hence, the title. The First Man would become the first in a long line of super-intelligent individuals with increased longevity. In turn, these would then sire more children.’

Heather gave a long, low whistle. ‘So a race of supermen would be born. And, in turn, the eventual extinction of
Homo Sapiens
.’

In the growing gloom, shards of ancient Roman pottery stood out as splinters of orange, as they caught the failing light. Eden noticed fragments of faces gazing from yet more remnants of bowls and jars that once contained spices, wine, and scented oils from Persia, and, perhaps, funerary unguents borne from mysterious realms along the Great Silk Road that linked the Orient with Imperial Rome. Once more thunder growled; this time with enough force to make a window pane shiver.

Heather shuddered. ‘We’re in for storm. Out here they can be a real nightmare. I hope Curtis comes home soon.’ Then she looked directly at Eden. ‘You know. I thought at first you were like your mother. I admit I was wrong. You are intelligent. You’ve examined all the facts you could find, then you worked out the truth. You’d have made a first class detective. I mean that sincerely, Eden. I’m impressed.’

‘I can also deduce that you don’t like my mother. That you think she’s silly.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘No, but I can piece your opinion together... just like these bones. Look at this,’ she moved to the table and gently touched the cheek of the skull. ‘The First Man didn’t have the head of a dog, or an ape. He was a man... but a man from a difference species.’

14. Friday Evening: 7.30

Thunder. Still no rain.

Curtis detested his day. He prowled; he snarled. Four times he made telephone calls. Complaints, expressions of frustration. With Curtis’s angry mutterings came more thunder. Plenty of thunder, a hollow sounding boom in the distance; the sound of massive barrier walls collapsing. When he poured himself a huge glass of merlot, the colour of blood in this half-light filtering through grim slabs of cloud, he made his fifth call.

‘Raj? Raj! You were going to get those damn court papers organised. No, that’s not good enough. I want Wayne’s ugly face in court. I want to see him go through hell after what he did to me.’ He touched his bruised eye. ‘Get it done Monday. Okay? That’s all well and good... yes... if the papers aren’t served next week you’ll be losing a valuable client. Goodbye.’ He glowered through the window. ‘Bloody weather.’ He emptied the wine down his throat then went for a refill.

Curtis jabbed a glance at Eden as she brought him a plate of sandwiches. He chose to interpret her expression the wrong way. ‘I can drink whenever I want. It’s my blasted house.’ He glared at his wife. ‘Even if my name isn’t on the deed, it’s still my home.’

‘Have you chosen a replacement for Wayne?’

‘I’ve been too busy dashing round sorting out all his cock-ups. Did you know he hasn’t bothered to confirm bookings for Thursday and Friday next week? The studio will be lying idle for two full days. At this rate we might as well rent it out to a farmer to store his spuds. We’d earn more.’ He drained his glass and refilled it again, reaching the end of the bottle. ‘Is it me,’ he muttered with no trace of humour, ‘or are wine bottles getting smaller? This didn’t last two minutes.’ He headed for the kitchen like he dearly wished he could find some underling there to thrash within an inch of their life.

More thunder broke across the horizon. Still no visible lightning; no rain either. The daylight took on a greenish tinge as it seeped through thick cloud.

Eden and Heather sat and looked at each other in silence. Each lost in their own thoughts.

Heather had taken several bites of her sandwich, and was chewing listlessly when she swallowed, frowned and stiffened. ‘He’s been a long time.’ She called out in the direction of the living room door. ‘Curtis? Everything all right through there?’ She stood up, ‘Curtis?’

Eden listened. ‘I think he’s gone through to your lab.’

On the word ‘lab’ Curtis punched open the door. His face seemed to pulsate with rage. ‘What the hell are you playing at with this?’ He brandished the fragments of skull that Eden had glued together. ‘Is it meant to be a joke? Is it?’

‘Curtis,’ Heather began. ‘I planned to tell you later. We’ve made a real breakthrough about this site. Did you know that nearly two thousand years - ’

‘I’m not interested. I’ve got real problems! I’ve got trouble with cash flow, with staff, with yawning great bloody gaps in studio bookings. All you do is make freaks out of old bones.’ He turned on Eden. ‘Idiot girl! I warned you about this ridiculous idea about werewolves and dog men. This is our home! Not a venue for your moronic, make-believe games.’

‘Curtis!’ Eden fired back with equal vigour. ‘It’s not make-believe. It’s not werewolves. Heather and I have found out about this place. It was sacred ground to the Romans.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. My business rates are overdue. I get assaulted by my own staff. And you babble about sacred ground. Listen, this is our home, an ordinary house built on ordinary dirt. And I’ve got to earn money to pay for its upkeep.’

‘But it is important. We found out that Heather’s mother was warned off from researching its history. The locals want to keep what happened here a secret.’

He brandished the section of rebuilt skull, with the thick eye ridge above vast eye sockets. ‘I’m warning you both. No more of this. Okay? Eden, there’s a train at eight in the morning. You’re going to be on it.’ He ripped the glued pieces of bone in two with his bare hands, his eyes blazed. At the same time, thunder smacked against the house like a bomb. ‘Now I’m throwing this in the bin. The rest of the blasted bones are joining it.’

He pounded out of the house. Heather ran after him, pleading that he calm down. Eden followed. A sense that events were running out of control gripped her now.
The brakes have gone
, she told herself.
We’re falling over the edge. Curtis can’t control himself. He’s going to hurt someone... he’s going to hurt us!

Outside, the crash of thunder became even more violent. A cacophony that made Heather clutch the side of her head. They pursued Curtis across the garden to where he flung back the lid of the wheelie-bin.

‘You might as well watch this!’ Fury as well as drink flushed his face crimson. ‘I’m not taking any more!’

Before he could hurl the bones into the bin full of discarded cartons, pizza crusts, and potato peelings he stopped. His eyes looked past the women, locking onto something behind them.

Eden spun round to see what it was, only whatever it was moved far too swiftly. An impression of a flitting shadow; nothing more.

Curtis stared, his eyes bulging. Even he wasn’t sure what he’d seen. Only it had been enough to stop him dead. He’d gone from rage to silence in one second flat.

Heather had been the last to notice. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Something came across the lawn,’ Eden breathed.

‘What?’

Curtis recovered from his surprise. ‘Eden, did you see that?’

‘Not clearly.’

His anger flared. ‘Some idiot ran through those bushes. What on Earth are they playing at?’ He’d forgotten all about the pieces of skull in his hand now. Instead, he advanced toward the shrubbery. Almost to himself he said, ‘But did you see how fast he ran? Like a hare!’

Heather caught her husband by the arm to prevent him plunging headlong into the vegetation. ‘Curtis, hold on. Did you see who it was?’

He shook his head. ‘I only half saw. Nothing properly. A shape... just a hell of a fast one.’

‘I’m glad I found you.’ A figure bustled through the garden gate.

Curtis groaned. ‘Hezzle. I should have known. If it’s one of your blasted mutts... ’

Mr Hezzle’s eyes were huge in his head. Even the weak one that had barely opened when Eden first met him seemed to poke right out from the socket, a veined orb with a fierce black pupil. ‘Back to the house... inside... quick!’

‘What?’ Curtis had no intention of moving.

‘Get into the house. Straight away... go on, get inside. Lock all the doors.’ Despite his advanced years, he ran past Heather’s excavation pit. ‘Inside, quick! Lock the doors!’

There was something about his manner. An utter conviction that somehow sent them back through the door into the kitchen. Mr Hezzle didn’t so much as follow as push them indoors. Once they were safely in he slammed the door shut behind them.

‘Lock it!’ He shouted so loud that the thunder seemed tame in comparison. Eden moved fastest, she shot the bolts across top and bottom.

Mr Hezzle sucked air through his large nose, his chest heaved. ‘Are all the other doors locked? Windows, too?’

‘What is this?’ Curtis spat the words. ‘This is
my
hou - ’

‘Lock them.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Eden flew round the ground floor. Fortunately all were locked. A moment later she was back in the kitchen to find Mr Hezzle drawing the blinds.

‘Hezzle. Tell us what on Earth is going on!’ Curtis was on the verge of committing violence.

‘He’s out!’ Mr Hezzle slammed his hand down on the kitchen table. ‘He knows you took the bones from the mausoleum!’

Curtis snarled. ‘Mausoleum? What the hell are you talking about?’

The old man turned to Eden, ‘The lass knows. She told me he came here this week. He sniffed at the doors. He could tell the bones were inside. She said he tried to break in.’

The eyes of her uncle and aunt flicked to the smashed security glass in the door.

‘It was just some local drunk,’ Curtis snapped. ‘Pay no attention to Eden here; she’s away with the fairies... as stupid as her scatter-brained mother.’ Both wine and emotion freed his tongue. ‘And you can get off my property, Hezzle. You outstayed your welcome a long time ago.’

Eden squared up. ‘Curtis, you’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. You think you know everything; in reality you’re as narrow-minded and as prejudiced as they come.’

‘That does it. Eden, I’ll drive you to the station.’

‘In that state? You’re drunk.’

‘Drunk? You little bitch.’

Heather squealed. ‘Something ran by the window.’

Curtis glared at the man. ‘His dog I suppose.’

‘No... ’ Heather turned to Mr Hezzle, her eyes huge with fear. ‘Mr Hezzle, what was it?’

But Eden answered first, ‘The First Man. That’s right isn’t it, Mr Hezzle?’

Heather gave a pained grunt. Her eyes stayed locked on Eden’s face as if she’d just screamed a blasphemy.

Curtis shook his head. ‘Here we go... ’ He grabbed the bottle from the table and poured himself another massive glass of red wine while muttering, ‘Welcome to the mad house.’

Eden approached the window. The garden lay empty beneath violent skies. Thunder bellowed again, fists of sound against her ears. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Mr Hezzle?’ She spoke with a new self-assurance. ‘The First Man is out there. Does he bring the Gift?’

Her Aunt’s voice rose. ‘We identified those bones as
Homo Prima
, the First Man. The deformed skull.’ She gave an odd-sounding laugh. ‘How can that be the First Man out there. He’d have to be nearly two thousand years old?’

‘The girl’s an idiot.’ Curtis’ attention was on his wine glass and he took a large gulp of the merlot.

Mr Hezzle’s wise eyes regarded Curtis with nothing less than pity. ‘You should listen to your niece, Mr Laird. She is intelligent.’ He sighed. ‘More intelligent than the pair of you put together.’

A huge crash of thunder rattled the house. On the shelf the crockery trembled. Curtis chuckled and gestured with his glass. ‘Take her to live with you, then. But be careful who she brings home for a one night stand. Her lovers have a reputation for starting fires. She’ll bed the - ’

He didn’t finish the sentence. Eden snatched the glass from his hand then dashed its contents at his head. Blood red wine streamed down his face and dripped from his nose.

‘Good work, Miss.’ Mr Hezzle nodded with approval. ‘It might wake him up enough to open his eyes properly for the first time.’

‘I’ve never hit a woman before - ’ Curtis began ominously.

‘Why don’t you make the effort to see yourself as other people do?’ Eden told him in contempt. ‘No wonder Wayne slapped you.’

‘I’m warning you!’
He screamed the words. ‘You and Hezzle have gone too far.’

Eden paused as she realised a vital truth. ‘I know what’s got into you. You aren’t angry, Curtis. You’re scared.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘You’re frightened of what’s out there.’

‘No.’

‘Listen to your niece,’ Mr Hezzle said in a low voice. ‘Like I said, she’s intelligent. She knows.’

‘Ridiculous... I’m not frightened. She knows nothing.’

Eden’s confidence grew. ‘Curtis you are frightened. Because you’ve got a secret, haven’t you?’

He looked at her, his mouth opening and closing as if he was lost for what to say next.

‘There have been times at night,’ Eden continued, ‘when the moon is shining... you’ve seen a figure moving through the fields. You watched and not told a living soul. But you saw a man. You noticed the shape of his head... it didn’t look right to you... only you didn’t tell anyone, did you?’

Curtis’s appearance was that of a hunted man. His eyes became shifty as if he searched for an escape route.

Heather stiffened, ‘Curtis, is this true?’

Eden said, ‘That’s why he doesn’t like the house; he rationalises it as Dog Lands being too far from the studio in York. And that’s why he drinks too much. He wants to sleep so soundly that he never gets up during the night to look out of the window to see what might be out there.’

Curtis swallowed and rubbed his face with his hand, smearing away the wine.

‘Listen to your niece, Mrs Laird. What she says is true.’

‘Of course it’s true,’ Eden lifted her voice above another rumble of thunder. ‘What’s made it all worse for Curtis is that I’ve given a name to the figure he’s glimpsed in the fields. The First Man. What’s more, he now has a history. He was revered by the Romans. He had a mission. Now he’s returned to complete that mission. To offer humankind the Gift. Heather, it might seem contradictory, but the fact of the matter is the bones of the First Man are in the lab, yet the First Man is out there in the garden; he’s searching for a way into the house.’

Curtis flinched, and his eyes shot to the bolted door.

Eden leaned forward to peer through the kitchen window. Winds tugged garden bushes. The gazebo that covered the pit had toppled. The storm was almost here. Another huge crash of thunder echoed around.

Heather gripped Eden’s elbow. ‘But how can this thing both be in the house as bones, and outside as a living creature?’