Manly Wade Wellman - Judge Pursuivant 01 (10 page)

           
 
''We are here at his mercy."

 
          
 
We followed Judge Pursuivant, Susan and I,
without much of a thought beyond an understandable dislike for being left alone
on the brink of the timber. It was a slight struggle to get through the
close-set cedar hedge, especially for Susan, but beyond it we soon caught up
with the judge. He strode heavily and confidently among the trees, his lantern
held high to shed light upon broad, polished leaves and thick, wet stems. The
moist warmth of the grove's interior made itself felt again, and the judge
explained again and at greater length the
hot springs
that made possible this surprising
condition. All the while he kept going. He seemed to know his way in that
forbidden fastness - indeed, he must have explored it many times to go straight
to his destination.

 
          
 
That destination was a clearing, in some
degree like the one where I had met and fought with my hairy pursuer on the
night before. This place had, however, a great tree in its center, with
branches that shot out in all directions to hide away the sky completely. By
straining the ears one could catch a faint murmur of water - my scalding
stream, no doubt. Around us were the thick-set trunks of the forest, filled in
between with brush and vines, and underfoot grew velvety moss.

 
          
 
"This will be our headquarters
position," said the judge. "Wills, help me gather wood for a fire.
Break dead branches from the standing trees - never mind picking up wood from
the ground, it will be too damp."

 
          
 
Together we collected a considerable heap and,
crumpling a bit of paper in its midst, he kindled it.

 
          
 
"Now, then," he went on, "I’m
heading for town. You two will stay here and keep each other company."

 
          
 
He took our lanterns, blew them out and ran
his left arm through the loops of their handles.

 
          
 
"I'm sure that nothing will attack you in
the light of the fire. You're bound to attract whatever skulks hereabouts,
however. When I come back, we ought to be prepared to go into the final act of
our little melodrama."

 
          
 
He touched my hand, bowed to Susan, and went
tramping away into the timber. The thick leafage blotted his lantern-light from
our view before his back had been turned twenty seconds.

 
          
 
Susan and I gazed at each other, and smiled
rather uneasily.

 
          
 
"It's warm," she breathed, and took
off her cloak. Dropping it upon one of the humped roots of the great central
tree, she sat down on it with her back to the trunk. "What kind of a tree
is this?"

 
          
 
I gazed up at the gnarled stem, or as much of
it as I could see in the firelight. Finally I shook my head.

 
          
 
"I don't know - I'm no expert," I
admitted. "At least it's very
big,
and
undoubtedly very old - the sort of tree that used to mark a place of
sacrifice."

 
          
 
At the word "sacrifice," Susan
lifted her shoulders as if in distaste. "You're right, Talbot. It would be
something grim and Druid-like." She began to recite, half to herself:

 
          
 
That tree in whose dark shadow
The
ghastly priest doth reign. The priest who slew the
slayer
And
shall himself be slain

 
          
 
"Macaulay," I said at once. Then, to
get her mind off of morbid things, "I had to recite The Lays of Ancient
Rome in school, when I was a boy. I wish you hadn't mentioned it."

 
          
 
"You mean, because it's an evil
omen?" She shook her head, and contrived a smile that lighted up her pale
face. "It's not that, if you analyze it
. '
Shall
himself be slain' - it sounds as if the enemy's fate is sealed."

 
          
 
I nodded,
then
spun
around sharply, for I fancied I heard a dull crashing at the edge of the
clearing. Then I went here and there, gathering wood enough to keep our fire
burning for some time. One branch, a thick, straight one, I chose from the heap
and leaned against the big tree, within easy reach of my hand.

 
          
 
"That's for a club," I told Susan,
and she half shrunk, half stiffened at the implication.

 
          
 
We fell to talking about Judge Pursuivant, the
charm and the enigma that invested him. Both of us felt gratitude that he had
immediately clarified our own innocence in the grisly slayings, but to both
came
a sudden inspiration, distasteful and disquieting. I spoke
first:

 
          
 
"Susan! Why did the judge bring us
here?"

 
          
 
"He said
,
to
help face and defeat the monster. But - but
- "

 
          
 
"Who is that monster?" I demanded.
"What human being puts on a semibestial appearance, to rend and
kill?"

 
          
 
"Y -
you
don't
mean the judge?"

 
          
 
As I say, it had been in both our minds. We
were silent, and felt shame and embarrassment.

 
          
 
"Look here," I went on earnestly
after a moment; "perhaps we're being ungrateful, but we mustn't be
unprepared. Think, Susan; nobody knows where Judge Pursuivant was at the time
of your father's death, or at the time I saw the thing in these woods." I
broke off, remembering how I had met the judge for the first time, so shortly
after my desperate struggle with the point-eared demon. "Nobody knows
where he was when the constable's brother was attacked and mortally wounded."

 
          
 
She gazed about fearfully. "Nobody,"
she added breathlessly, "knows where he is now."

 
          
 
I was remembering a conversation with him; he
had spoken of books, mentioning a rare, a suppossedly non-existent volume. What
was it? . . .
the
Wicked Bible. And what was it I had
once heard about that work?

 
          
 
It came back to me now, out of the
sub-conscious brain-chamber where, apparently, one stores everything he hears
or reads in idleness, and from which such items creep on occasion. It had been
in Lewis Spence's Encyclopedia of Occultism, now on the shelf in my New York
apartment.

 
          
 
The Wicked Bible, scripture for witches and
wizards, from which magic-mongers of the Dark Ages drew their inspiration and
their knowledge! And Judge Pursuivant had admitted to having one!

 
          
 
What had he learned from it? How had he been
so glib about the science - yes, and the psychology - of being a werewolf?

 
          
 
"If what we suspect is true," I said
to Susan, "we are here at his mercy. Nobody is going to come in here, not
if horses dragged them. At his leisure he will fall upon us and tear us to
pieces."

 
          
 
But, even as I spoke, I despised myself for my
weak fears in her presence. I picked up my club and was comforted by its weight
and thickness.

 
          
 
"I met that devil once," I said,
studying cheer and confidence into my voice this time. "I don't think it
relished the meeting any too much. Next time won't be any more profitable for
it."

 
          
 
She smiled at me, as if in comradely
encouragement; then we both started and fell silent. There had risen, somewhere
among the thickets, a long low whining.

 
          
 
I put out a foot, stealthily, as though
fearful of being caught in motion. A quick kick Bung more wood on the fire. I
blinked in the light and felt the heat. Standing there, as a primitive man
might have stood in his flame-guarded camp to face the horrors of the ancient
world, I tried to judge by ear the direction of that whine.

 
          
 
It died, and I heard, perhaps in my
imagination, a stealthy padding. Then the whining began again, from a new
quarter and nearer.

 
          
 
I made myself step toward it. My shadow,
leaping grotesquely among the tree trunks, almost frightened me out of my wits.
The whine had changed into a crooning wail, such as that with which dogs salute
the full moon. It seemed to plead, to promise; and it was coming closer to the
clearing.

 
          
 
Once before I had challenged
and taunted the thing with scornful words.
Now I could not make my lips
form a single syllable. Probably it was just as well, for I thought and watched
the more. Something black and cautious was moving among the branches, just
beyond the shrubbery that screened it from our fire-light. I knew, without need
of a clear view, what that black something was. I lifted my club to the ready.

 
          
 
The sound it made had become in some fashion
articulate, though not human in any quality. There were no words to it, but it
spoke to the heart. The note of plea and promise had become one of command -
and not directed to me.

 
          
 
I found my own voice.

 
          
 
"Get out of here, you devil!" I
roared at it, and threw my club. Even as I let go of it, I wished I had not.
The bushes foiled my aim, and the missile crashed among them and dropped to the
mossy ground. The creature fell craftily silent. Then I felt sudden panic and
regret at being left weaponless, and I retreated toward the fire.

 
          
 
"Susan," I said huskily, "
give
me another stick.
Hurry!"

 
          
 
She did not move or stir, and I rummaged
frantically among the heaped dry branches for myself. Catching up the first
piece of wood that would serve, I turned to her with worried curiosity.

 
          
 
She was still seated upon the cloak-draped
root, but she had drawn herself tense, like a cat before a mouse-hole. Her head
was thrust forward, so far that her neck extended almost horizontally. Her
dilated eyes were turned in the direction from which the whining and crooning
had come. They had a strange clarity in them, as if they could pierce the twigs
and leaves and meet there an answering, understanding gaze.

 
          
 
"Susan!" I cried.

 
          
 
Still she gave no sign that she heard me, if
hear me she did. She leaned farther forward, as if ready to spring up and run.
Once more the unbeastly wail rose from the place where our watcher was lurking.

 
          
 
Susan's lips trembled. From them came slowly
and softly, then louder, a long-drawn answering howl.

 
          
 
""AooooooooooooooAooooooooooooooooooooV^

 
          
 
The stick almost fell from my hands. She rose,
slowly but confidently. Her shoulders hunched high, her arms hung forward as
though they wanted to reach to the ground. Again she howled:

 
          
 
''Aoooooooooooooooooooo!”

 
          
 
I saw that she was going to move across the
clearing, toward the trees - through the trees. My heart seemed to twist into a
knot inside me, but I could not let her do such a thing. I made a quick stride
and planted myself before her.