Read Online Doctor Illuminatus by Martin Booth - Free Book Online
Authors: Martin Booth
Tags: JUV001000
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I am able to acquire knowledge whilst I am asleep, for then I am able to exist in a parallel universe.”
“Run that one by me again,” Tim said. “According to some scientific thought,” Sebastian began, “there exist other worlds — other universes — which connect with or relate to our own. These are called parallel universes, which are similar and may even be duplicates of our own, occupied by human beings who are duplicates of ourselves. It is said that we can visit these parallel universes in our sleep and that, when we dream, we are in fact entering one of these other worlds that mimic our own.”
“So when you are hibernating, you can go into one of these places?” Pip suggested.
“Yes,” Sebastian replied, “and, once there, I can learn, bringing the knowledge with me whither I go.”
“Presumably,” Tim observed, “de Loudéac can do the same thing.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said, nodding soberly, “he can.” The ground began to rise slowly. Ahead, half covered in brambles and hawthorn, was a single line of rusty barbed wire strung loosely between fence posts that had rotted through and were either leaning over or held upright only by the wire and the tenacity of the tangle of briars and branches. Behind, on a rise, was a dense clump of trees. Sebastian headed for an almost in-discernible path, holding the barbed wire up for Pip and Tim to duck under.
“This copse is called the Garden of Eden,” Sebastian announced, striding past them, pushing the under-growth aside as he went. “Follow me.”
“Isn’t this the place the headmaster mentioned?” Tim said under his breath as Pip passed him.
She nodded and set off after Sebastian, Tim a few paces behind her.
After some twenty meters or so, they came upon a clearing in which a large number of different plants was growing, separated by narrow strips of grass.
“It looks like a herb garden gone wild,” Pip remarked.
“Which, in a way, is what it is,” Sebastian said. “Every plant was originally sown or placed in the ground here by my father. My family have tended them down through the centuries, cultivating them and, where necessary, sowing fresh seed or setting new cuttings. My uncle was the last to honor the responsibility but now, as you can see, it has been abandoned and is in much need of attention.”
“I’ll do that,” Pip offered eagerly. “I like gardening.” Sebastian smiled and said, “That would please me, for I shall have little time for such matters. Furthermore,” he added, “you will be safe here, for de Loudéac cannot enter this place to do his mischief.”
“Why not?” Tim asked.
“There is much here that can harm him,” Sebastian declared, “much that can sap his alchemic strength.” He turned to a low plant growing on his right. “Do you know of this?”
Pip squatted next to it. The plant had long, broad leaves that were dark green and deeply ribbed, each of them fanning out from a single point. Three small blue bell-shaped flowers protruded from the center. She rubbed one of the leaves between her fingers and sniffed at them. The smell was awful.
“It is mandragora,” Sebastian said, “which protects from evil and demons. This,” he pointed to a taller plant whose small mauve flowers were being visited by at least half a dozen wasps, “is figwort, which also protects. And the others here — wormwood, cowbane, selago, oregano, valerian, monkshood . . .”
Setting off around the clearing, Sebastian started to collect a leaf here, a bud or flower there; two plants he uprooted, nipping off tubers, pieces of root or rhizomes before firming them back in the soil with his heel. Each part he collected he pushed into the bottle of vodka, thrusting it down with a green twig snapped from a turkey oak that grew at the edge of the clearing. All the while, he muttered to himself as if casting a spell or reciting a recipe so as not to miss a single ingredient.
When he was done, Sebastian screwed down
“Run that one by me again,” Tim said. “According to some scientific thought,” Sebastian began, “there exist other worlds — other universes — which connect with or relate to our own. These are called parallel universes, which are similar and may even be duplicates of our own, occupied by human beings who are duplicates of ourselves. It is said that we can visit these parallel universes in our sleep and that, when we dream, we are in fact entering one of these other worlds that mimic our own.”
“So when you are hibernating, you can go into one of these places?” Pip suggested.
“Yes,” Sebastian replied, “and, once there, I can learn, bringing the knowledge with me whither I go.”
“Presumably,” Tim observed, “de Loudéac can do the same thing.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said, nodding soberly, “he can.” The ground began to rise slowly. Ahead, half covered in brambles and hawthorn, was a single line of rusty barbed wire strung loosely between fence posts that had rotted through and were either leaning over or held upright only by the wire and the tenacity of the tangle of briars and branches. Behind, on a rise, was a dense clump of trees. Sebastian headed for an almost in-discernible path, holding the barbed wire up for Pip and Tim to duck under.
“This copse is called the Garden of Eden,” Sebastian announced, striding past them, pushing the under-growth aside as he went. “Follow me.”
“Isn’t this the place the headmaster mentioned?” Tim said under his breath as Pip passed him.
She nodded and set off after Sebastian, Tim a few paces behind her.
After some twenty meters or so, they came upon a clearing in which a large number of different plants was growing, separated by narrow strips of grass.
“It looks like a herb garden gone wild,” Pip remarked.
“Which, in a way, is what it is,” Sebastian said. “Every plant was originally sown or placed in the ground here by my father. My family have tended them down through the centuries, cultivating them and, where necessary, sowing fresh seed or setting new cuttings. My uncle was the last to honor the responsibility but now, as you can see, it has been abandoned and is in much need of attention.”
“I’ll do that,” Pip offered eagerly. “I like gardening.” Sebastian smiled and said, “That would please me, for I shall have little time for such matters. Furthermore,” he added, “you will be safe here, for de Loudéac cannot enter this place to do his mischief.”
“Why not?” Tim asked.
“There is much here that can harm him,” Sebastian declared, “much that can sap his alchemic strength.” He turned to a low plant growing on his right. “Do you know of this?”
Pip squatted next to it. The plant had long, broad leaves that were dark green and deeply ribbed, each of them fanning out from a single point. Three small blue bell-shaped flowers protruded from the center. She rubbed one of the leaves between her fingers and sniffed at them. The smell was awful.
“It is mandragora,” Sebastian said, “which protects from evil and demons. This,” he pointed to a taller plant whose small mauve flowers were being visited by at least half a dozen wasps, “is figwort, which also protects. And the others here — wormwood, cowbane, selago, oregano, valerian, monkshood . . .”
Setting off around the clearing, Sebastian started to collect a leaf here, a bud or flower there; two plants he uprooted, nipping off tubers, pieces of root or rhizomes before firming them back in the soil with his heel. Each part he collected he pushed into the bottle of vodka, thrusting it down with a green twig snapped from a turkey oak that grew at the edge of the clearing. All the while, he muttered to himself as if casting a spell or reciting a recipe so as not to miss a single ingredient.
When he was done, Sebastian screwed down
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