carry on cthulhu 3

 

Count Godley, as it turned out, had an imposing manner as well as an imposing manor. He was waiting for me outside its splendid 18th century facade.

"So you're the young man come to rummage about in my archive, are you?"

"Yes, your excellency, that would be me."

"Well, its been a long time since somebody came to do that. I hope it's not too dusty in there. By the way, I hope you understand if Lady Godley doesn't join us, she's out shooting peasants .. er, I mean pheasants."

"No, you're excellency thats quite alright."

"And drop the excellency pleaaasse, that's only for public functions. Out here in the grounds of my palladian estate I like to believe we're all sons of adam."

"Of course y .. of course. The grounds are delightful by the way, and the building of course."

"Ah yes, built by one my illustrious ancestors the Reverend Godley, to replace the old medieval hall after the fire. Burnt down by some over zealous witch finders would you believe? The reverend made them pay of course .. in the courts I mean .. nothing gruesome or horrible happened to them whatsoever.. but why are we chattering out here, let me show you around."

So I spent a pleasant morning being shown around the manor. I was fascinated by the portraits of his recent ancestors, made by a series of well regarded and not so well regarded artists, and their attempts to capture the 'Godley sneer'. I stopped at one in particular.

"Ah yes, that's the good reverend, painted by the Dutch master Jan Van Glockenmeister."

"Its remarkable. Almost as though he's sneering at me personally. No earlier portraits survived the blaze I suppose."

"All that survived the blaze were the contents of the reverends study. You can count yourself fortunate that these included the kernel of the library - documents and manuscripts going back centuries."

"And how did the study come to escape the flames, exactly?"

"Ah well, thats interesting. The reverend had moved the study to a temporary location on the edge of the grounds - an old hunting lodge - so as not to disturb the household. He was involved in some .. alchemical experiments .. and was known to produce some noxious fumes. Speaking of which .. here is my manservant Grimes, he can show you to the library, isn't that right Grimes?"

"Yes m'lud."

"And if you'll excuse me I have some matters to attend to. Did we manage to catch those poachers Grimes?"

"Oh yes m'lud."

"Ah well then, I suppose I better report them to the proper authorities. On a completely unrelated matter, have you seen my branding iron and pruning shears?"

It sounded like the Count had a busy afternoon planned and I was keen to start my researches, so I let Grimes, who really wasn't quite as squalid as his name would suggest, take me to the library.

The collection was impressive - a small number of modern works, mostly esoteric in nature, then alchemists tracts dating from the 16th to the 19th century: among them I was shocked to see the forbidden Kulten Ghoulies by Comte de Bidet and Rottenkultens by the mad priest Helmut Grosse. All that was missing was a copy of the Woblinoblicon, and I thanked the stars that one of the very few surviving copies was safely ensconced at the Ginantonic university. I had suffered the misfortune to read some of that dreadful text (I imagine you empathise gentle reader) and wonder where it's compiler, the heretical arab Sheik Yabuti had uncovered such forbidden lore. You could say, that it almost sent me on the wrongs tracts!

I turned with relief to more sound historical matter, the Chronich Saxons and a good collection of supporting material, then folios of medieval manuscripts, and lastly the Roman record, on carefully preserved and bound papyrus.

Although these tried to maintain an official tone, between the lines it was apparent that Bran Flakius was a cause of much dread and loathing. Referred to as the great All Bran by his kinsfolk, it was obvious, that although lacking moral fibre, he was effective in clearing out the Romans. Enough so that the regional Leggit had done much to earn his title. Even more dreaded were the Seven Maidens, where it was said, druidesses would lure legionnaires to their grisly end, at the hand .. no, tendrils .. tendrils, of the white bubbly things that crawled out of the ravine. My translation is weak here, my apologies. Which brings us to the resting place of Bran Flakius. for the saxon legends say, that after his fatal wounding at the battle of Upsen Downs, he was not buried but taken down into the ravine and hidden by his blasphemous accomplices.

My work was interrupted by a knock at the door from Grimes and I was suprised to see that many hours had passed and the light was beginning to dim.

"His excellency was worried sir, he thought maybe I should prepare one of the guest rooms, He has a spare set of jim jams and a toothbrush if you failed to anticipate an overnight stay sir."

I looked out of the window. It was getting dark and I fancied not trying to negotiate the tortuous lanes that led back to the camp in darkness.

"Tell his excellency I would be most grateful, thank you Grimes," I said, wondering what other experiences might await me on my visit to the manor house.