Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (7 page)

“Egad, Woman, there is no Need for that Carry-on,” I said. “What about a Mouse?”

Eventually, one of the Maids agreed to search the Traps, and so after about half an Houre I had secured my Specimen, and hurried with it to my Study to begin its Evisceration.

My Subject was an house-Mouse, round eared and grey furred. I laid it out carefully on the sheer Surface of my Desk, and examined it closely. I had never before looked so intently at the Body of any Animal, even one with which I was familiar, and I was at once surprized. An immediate Change seemed to have been wrought upon the Creature by my mere Observation. This Mouse was, I am sure, almost identical to every Mouse I had previously seen, scuttling beside the skirting Board or atop my highest book-Shelf, but it seemed to me as if its Mouseness had become more exact—its Skeleton more precise in its Proportions, its Eyes more truly black, its minute Teeth more specific in their Shape and Number. I realised of Course that the Mouse had not been altered in any Way by my Looking at it, but that the Change had been in my Perceptions. From this Moment, I perceived, with a marvelling Jolt, that all living things, whatever their Species, would appear to me as Wonders of Ordinary Nature.

I pinned the Mouse Belly up on my Dissecting Board, opened mine Etui and took out my sharpest Scalpel. Then I paused, for I was not at
all sure how to continue. I wanted to explore the Body, but I also wanted to preserve the Skeleton as the first of what I intended to become a varied Collection. The Neck of the Creature having been crushed by the Trap, I pondered whether to conduct mine Investigation from the Chest downward, and open the Body at the Throat, but at last I gave up this Idea as too likely to damage the Ribcage, and instead my first Incision into animal Matter was made at the Anus.

Immediately, Blood spurted out, along with a small Quantity of faecal Material. Caught by Surprize, I looked around for a Rag, but had none, and in the Event was forced to mop up the Mess with my Sleeve, which Act I found so repulsive that I almost abandoned my Dissection then and there. My Curiosity, however, soon reasserted itself, and I continued to cut more carefully, my Sleeve always at the ready in Case of a Recurrence. I worked on the little Corpse all Afternoon, taking detailed Notes as I progressed, and tho’ I made something of a pig’s Ear of the Dissection, I was pleased with it none the less, and attempted to clean the bloody Bones in a Cup filled with Vinegar.

To my great Astonishment, when I returned to this four Nights later, I discovered that the tiny Skeleton had turned as pliable as Glue. I could do nothing with the Bones in that State, so I disposed of them in a flower Bed. I repeated this unintentional Experiment on Purpose with different Kinds and Sizes of Bone, and always achieved a similar Result, but I never discovered precisely what it is about Vinegar and Bone that causeth the one to undergo so peculiar an Alteration in the Presence of the other.

From then on, I took Care to clean all skeletal Remains with a small Brush, and a Solution of white Salt in clear Water. I kept my finished Skeletons on Top of my Bookcase, until after a Twelvemonth the Collection grew too numerous, and I was forced to move it.

April, 1750, had proved a dismal Month beset by steady Clouds and Showers of heavy Rain. But it had not been a freezing Dampe. The Thermometer upon the window-Sill of my Bedchamber told me daily that at last the Temperature had begun to rise; the long cruel Winter that had stoppt the Clocks and frozen the River had ended. Now the Effects of this new Mildness were becoming visible in the budding, twittering Hedgerows all around Shirelands Hall. In my Study, I had kept the Fire piled high and fiercely hot, and I had stood within my Walls and watched the Rain pour out across the Valley of the Horse.

My Laboratory had developed somewhat since its first
Establishment. My long Table sate yet before the south Window, but it was flanked now by two large wire fronted Cages, in which I kept my living Specimens until I could make Use of them. Each of these Cages being sub-divided, I had thereby Housing for forty small Animals, and consequently the Room had often the Smell of an Aviary or a game-Keeper’s Hut. This Arrangement taking up the whole Length of that Wall, I had been forced to move my Desk into the Centre, for I had had more Bookcases and Cabinets built upon the other Walls from Floor to Ceiling, and there was not a spare Inch of Space anywhere. From behind Glass peered down the Skulls of Foxes, Otters, Badgers, and a Roebuck, and the mounted Skeletons of Cats and Mice danced along the Shelves in between Jars housing their pickled Viscera. For my Comfort when Reading, I had installed a small Sofa before the Fire, and I had spent a Deal of Time upon it over the preceding Months, wrappt in a Blanket.

I had turned nineteen in January, and I wanted to go up to the University in Oxford, but that was impossible. My Father, when presst, gave the poor Excuse of my still fragile Mind. This appeared unfair to me; in the three and an half Yeares since I had taken up Possession of my Laboratory, I had not fallen more than twice into the melancholy Sea. The Mania that had brought about my Deliverance from the last of my Tutors seemed an half forgotten Nightmare. Mine Unhappiness was compounded by the Fact that on Christmas Eve, Nathaniel, whilst visiting my Chambers and extreamly drunk, had told me that he was to attend the Theological College from September in Accordance with his Father’s Wish that he take Orders. Seeing that I was put severely out of Sorts by these Newes, he had pleaded with me to return with him to the Rectory and restore our good Humour in Company with several of the
local Maids—one of whom, he hinted, was particularly taken with me—but I had refused. I kept to My Self how much I would miss him.

*   *   *

At nine of the Clock, on the thirtieth Daye of April, I was painstakingly involved in the Dissection of a large gravid Rat when someone rapped unexpectedly upon my study Door. I startled wildly, and sliced intirely thro’ one of the delicate Amnions, which I had intended to preserve intact, cutting off the Head and dextral fore-Limb of the Foetus in the Process.

“Damnation!” Clutching my Scalpel still in my Hand, I strode across to the Door, turned the Key and threw the Room open. “What the Hell is it?”

“Is that any Way to greet your oldest Friend?” Nathaniel said.

“Oh, ’tis you! I thought it had been the under-Footman.”

“It would have been,” Nathaniel said. “But I perswaded him otherwise. Do you know that your Hands are covered with Blood? And here I am come to steal you away to a Night’s Revellry.”

“Revellry? What? The Blood is from that Rat you sent me. A beautifull Specimen, Nat; but I am running out of pickling Vinegar.”

“I do not take your Meaning.”

“I can’t preserve the Rat in toto; ’tis too big. So I have decided to excise the Uterus and embryo Pups only. And I was managing the Operation exceeding well, before your bloody loud Knock interrupted me. Come and see what you have made me do.”

I crosst over to the long Table and placed my Scalpel carefully upon the thickly felted wooden Board, positioned at the mid-Point of a three-quarter Circle of tall wax Candles, where I had pinned the Rat. Nathaniel peered into the Corpse with a perplext Expression.

“Here, Nat, for God’s sake,” I said.

“Which is the Uterus?” Nathaniel asked.

“That.” I presst the Organ lightly with my smallest Fingertip.

“I see it now, I think. Little Questions, peremptorily dismisst. If her Pregnancy had occurred to me I might not have offered her to you.”

“’Tis but a Rat,” I said. “And I must practise upon something. You know not what Human Suffering may yet be relieved because I have just spent three Houres on this Rat. Though I should have preferred it had been a Monkey.”

“I did not have a Monkey. And as for alleviating human Suffering, I should say ’tis barely worth the Effort. If you were to ease a Man’s Pain by a full Half, he would only curse you for failing to remove the Whole. Now you must wash your Hands and Face, for you have a broad Smear of Rat above your left Eyebrow; change your Attire and come with me. I have tonight called in a Favour of the Landlord of the Bull, and he hath agreed to let me have the upper Room for a private Ridotto.”

This Information was so unexpected that I was forced to look away from my Work and stare at Nathaniel. For the first Time I took in the delicate Embroidery upon his green velvet Frock, the smart Cut of his silken Breeches. His natural Hair lay in perfect Rolls about his slender Neck, and he wore his new Hat. He was not carrying a Cane; instead, he wore a small, silver Sword upon his Hip. The ornate, complicated Hilt gleamed like wrought Sunnelight atop its finely tooled Scabbard. On his opposite Thigh, beneath the Folds of his Coat, he seemed to be carrying something that resembled an hunting Horn. Under his left Arm was tucked the small skin Drum he had traded from the Gypsies.

“What the Devil?” I said. “Did you say Ridotto or Court?” I began
to be intrigued, despite mine Intention not to be. “The Landlord will not bill you for this? I imagine he is not well pleased.”

“Indeed; he is a miserly old Fart. But he was somewhat relieved.”

“How so?”

“Because he had placed himself in an invidious Position, my dear Tris; he had agreed to owe me a Favour without first stipulating what Form that Favour should take.”

I frowned. “A Favour? Why should that worry him?”

“Because I could have asked him for anything, Tristan. Anything.”

“He could still have refused, if ’twas unreasonable. What did you do to get the Cully in your Debt, anyway?”

“He would never have dared to refuse,” Nathaniel said with a Laugh. “But what I did for him is a Secret betwixt us; ’twould be against the Rules for me to tell it.”

“Then you are too damned secretive,” I said. “And most of the Time speak Gibberish. Tell me, why should I attend this Assembly of yours when I could be dissecting my Rat?”

“Because Margaret Haynes will be there.”

Margaret Haynes was the Innkeeper’s oldest Daughter. Dark Haired, bright Eyed, and a considerable Beauty, she was the prime Envy of all our local Belles. She was also the Woman who had initiated me, two Months previously, into the Mystery of intimate Intercourse, and she had lately begun to drill me in the Procedure’s Methods. “It ent enow,” she had said, “that you knows how to fuck. Every Fool knows how to fuck. You needs to learn how to make my Cunny glow.”

I did not imagine myself in love with Margaret; indeed, I knew that I was not. But I appreciated the Affection she shewed me when her Father was not nearby, and I did my best to reciprocate it as far as Propriety and mine own lack of Confidence would allow. I
also knew that she was not in Love with me. I was a Gentleman’s Son and a Greenhorn, and Margaret Haynes had too much Wit to dally for long with either.

When Nathaniel said that she would be in Attendance at his private Party, he did not, naturally, mean to imply that she would be present as a Guest. Margaret would be there in her Capacity of serving Wench, to ensure that the Wine and Merriment kept flowing.

“You both could slip away to a quiet Closet at some Point during the Evening’s Festivities.” Nathaniel said. “Margaret Haynes on May Eve, and almost under the very Nose of her demented Da, to boot.”

It was a delightful Image; and yet, not intirely compelling. I did not know precisely why. But I did know, silently, within My Self, that as fond as I was of Margaret Haynes, there was something missing from our Intercourse; and I suspected just as silently that no matter how brightly I made her Cunny glow, I would not find it. I did not even understand what it was. It was a distant, unformed, nameless Thing.

Yet, I thought, what kind of Man would that make me, if I were truly to prefer the Idea of pickling twelve rat Foetuses to fucking Margaret Haynes?

“I shall change my Cloathes,” I said.

*   *   *

The Bull was a Coaching Inn situated at the Crossroads two Miles westward of the Village, slightly less than that Distance from Shirelands. It was popular with our Tenants, and with People from the outlying Hamlets for whom two Miles’ drunken Stagger home from the village Inn was not an acceptable Prospect. It was a dark, brooding Building constructed out of foreign Stone and black Oak
sometime during the fourteenth Century. Beside the heavy Door swung a single brass Lanthorn, its low Candle casting a guttering Glow upon the Latch. Tiny leaded Windows squinted at the Road from the Bedchambers above the Tavern, while at the back lay the Kitchen, and above this, the larger Room Nathaniel had borrowed for the Evening. The Stables lay to the rear, beyond the flagged and slippery Yard.

I climbed down carefully from the Rector’s Chaise, of which Nathaniel had also the Use for the Time, and tip-toed around the Shit and Puddles to the back Door. Nathaniel handed the Pony to the stable Lad and promised him an extra Coin if he saw to it that the Animal received a Rub down and a Feed of warm Oats.

“He hath a long Night’s Work ahead of him later,” Nathaniel said. “Let the poor Bugger rest well while he may.” He stroaked the Pony’s white Muzzle and the Creature pricked up its Ears, as if it could comprehend him.

Nathaniel released the Pony and leapt across the Yard with such sure Footsteps it seemed he were flying. “No,” he said, taking mine Arm. “No sneaking in thro’ the back Door for us tonight.”

He led me around the Mud to the front Door of the Bull. The Clouds above us parted momentarily, and some weird Instinct impelled me to look around, tho’ I could hear no Traffick. The Roads extending away on every Side of us seemed thick, black Ribbands betwixt the open Fields that glowed near grey in the weak Illumination of the Moon, which had just entered on its final Quarter. On the opposite Side of the Crossroads I could just distinguish the white Arch of the Way-Stone, yellowing faintly in the Lanthorn light, its Script invisible. I glanced back to Nathaniel. For one Second—and it cannot have been longer—his Eyes made a sharp, glittering Connexion with mine, and the intire World about
us both fell as silent as Starlight. The Cold sparkled upon my Skin.

Nathaniel was a clock Spring, wound too tight; every Muscle in his beautifull Face screamed desperate Release. I thought I recognised his Expression. I thought it had, three Yeares ago, been mine. Thro’ the Silence, I could hear the frantick Ticking of his Heartbeat, Seconds drumming past like fleeting Cavalry.