Deryn Lake: Death and the Black Pyramid

‘Yes, if I breathe in.’

He felt terrible about asking her to do it but what harm could possibly come to her in an empty house? Nonetheless his heart plummeted as she squeezed herself through the small gap and vanished from his sight. Straining his ears he could hear her feet scampering away — then came silence. John stood anguished as the moments went past. He drew his watch from his pocket and realized that he had been standing outside the kitchen door for almost twenty minutes. Then, distantly, he heard the sound of approaching voices. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that the keeper’s boy was coming back with a tall, burly individual wearing a surly expression. So far they had not seen him but it would only be a matter of minutes before they did. John did the only thing possible and dived down behind a bush, and it was at that precise moment that the kitchen door opened and Rose stood there, red in the face with excitement. The Apothecary took a flying leap across the space, praying as he did so that Michael and his father would be looking in the opposite direction.

His daughter was staring at him. ‘What’s the matter, Pa?’

He put an urgent finger to his lips. ‘Not so loud. Michael and the gamekeeper are coming.’

Rose looked troubled. ‘Did they see you?’

‘No, I don’t think so. What took you so long to open the door? Couldn’t you find it?’

She gave him her wonderful smile. ‘Oh yes, that part was easy. But I’ve been talking.’

A thrill of unease chilled John to the bone. ‘Talking? To whom?’

‘A black man.’

‘What black man? The house is empty.’

‘No, it isn’t. There is a black man here. I came through the window and went into the hall by mistake and there he was, sitting in the grand saloon.’

‘Is he there now?’

‘Yes, as far as I know. I’ll take you to him.’

She thrust her small hand into John’s and led him through the glorious interior of that fine and delicate house. But he was not in the mood for admiring its lovely lines, full of a strange foreboding. They reached the hall and turned into a large and beautiful room that led off it. It was completely empty.

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Rose, stopping dead in her tracks. ‘He’s gone. What a shame.’

John squatted down so that their eyes were on a level. ‘Did you really see someone here, sweetheart?’

‘Yes, I did.’ Her face screwed up as if she were about to weep. ‘Don’t you believe me?’

John straightened his back. ‘Yes, I believe you. But the question is, where has the man gone?’

A tear trickled down Rose’s cheek. ‘I don’t know, Papa. It seems that he must have vanished.’

‘Yes,’ answered the Apothecary thoughtfully, ‘it seems as if he must.’

They left by the kitchen door, John’s plan of examining the house totally thwarted by the arrival of the grim-faced gamekeeper. As they crept outside he could hear the man’s voice.

‘Well, where they gone then? Michael, I’ll tan your arse if you be telling me one of your stories.’

‘I’m not, Da’. They was here. The man and a little girl called Rose.’

‘Well they ain’t here now, are they.’

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

The boy began to snivel. ‘But I spoke to them, Da’. They must have got into the house somehow.’

‘Then we’d best go and look for them.’

John turned to Rose. ‘Come along, darling. Let me give you a piggyback.’

And scooping her up in the air and onto his shoulders, he started to run. Behind him he heard shouting and then shots were fired, more in warning than attempting to injure, he thought. Nonetheless he increased his speed as best he could carrying the extra burden of the child. The gates came into view and he hastened through them and had never been more relieved in his life than to see his coach drawn up, Irish Tom on the box and Sir Gabriel’s face peering anxiously through the window. Gasping, John covered the last few paces, bundled Rose within, then stepped inside himself.

‘My dearest child, did I hear shots?’ asked Sir Gabriel, pretending nonchalance but clearly worried.

‘You did indeed, Sir. It was the gamekeeper who mistook me for a hare, I don’t doubt.’

‘Foolish fellow,’ answered Sir Gabriel, and took a pinch of snuff. John noticed with tremendous tenderness that the old man’s hands were shaking.

‘I suggest that we repair to The White Hart and have a small libation,’ he said.

‘What an excellent plan,’ answered his father. He patted Rose’s cheek. ‘And how did you enjoy your adventure, my love?’

‘It was splendid, thank you Sir.’

‘Which part did you like best?’

‘I enjoyed chatting to the black man. He was so interesting.’

John leant forward. ‘Tell us about him. What was he like?’

‘He was very tall and massive, and he had a nice voice.’

The Apothecary had a sudden mental picture of the Black Pyramid. ‘Did he tell you his name?’ he said.

‘He said it was Jack,’ she answered guilessly.

Over her head John and Sir Gabriel looked at one another and exchanged a silent message.

Later that night, after the child was in bed, the two men strolled out briefly. It was a cold evening and they did not stay outside long. A wind had got up and was whipping through that small and ancient town clinging to the side of a hill. But though Sir Gabriel strode out bravely John could not help but notice that he was now taking far longer to walk. He felt glad when they got inside The White Hart and he was able to settle his father down with a cognac.

‘Father I must talk to you in earnest. I saw nothing of that house today, my entire attention having been seized by Rose thinking she saw a black man within, yet, as you know, the house is totally uninhabited except for a handful of servants.’

‘Perhaps he was one of them.’

‘I suppose it is possible. But two things bother me. Rose described the physique of the negro perfectly and it matched that of the Black Pyramid. Furthermore she told me that the man said his name was Jack. Which is the Pyramid’s real name. Sir, I have the strangest feeling that he was there, present in that empty house.’

‘Well, there’s only one thing for it,’ answered Sir Gabriel.

‘And that is?’

‘To ask him.’

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow when we go to see him fight. That will be your time, John.’

‘Yes, I suppose it will. Father, I am getting the strangest idea about the murder of William Gorringe.’

‘Which is?’

John Rawlings lowered his voice and whispered something so odd that Sir Gabriel just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief.

The next day they set out to see the Black Pyramid fight. As usual the crowd had gathered in a field nearby and John took Rose, not to see the scrap but to sample the delights of the fair that always seemed to accompany such events. But he had another reason for taking her. He wanted her to identify the man she had seen in the house, to say whether it was the Black Pyramid or not.

Irish Tom strode ahead of the group, looking a little like a bare-knuckle fighter himself. Behind him walked Sir Gabriel and John, with Emily and Rose following on. They made quite an interesting set of people as they cut a swathe through the crowd and several persons turned their head to get another look at them.

The fight had been arranged in a meadow beside a river that wound its way placidly through the countryside. In the distance, high up, towered the ruined castle and in a hastily erected box, which consisted of a faded awning over a few planks put down so that the chairs would not sink into the grass, sat two important people, that John thought must be the Earl and Countess of Arundel.