now the boat was nowhere
to be seen. Cadmus didn’t care. He suspected that the ferryman was in cahoots with the escapees; after all, hadn’t he just rowed him to town even though he must have thought he was a
lunatic? He would arrange for the man to be arrested along with anyone else who had escaped and could be found.
Cadmus still couldn’t believe what had happened. And it was made all the worse by events from the past. For ten years he had been in charge of the asylum with no complaints from
anyone. Well, no one who mattered. He had taken the job when the previous superintendent had gone soft and allowed a dangerous murderer to escape. Ten years without a hitch and now this! At least he
had been spared his life; the other murderous escapee, apparently unreformed, had killed his foolhardy predecessor.
Cadmus gritted his teeth. As for those treacherous cowards, the warders! If he ever got his hands on them they would pay, each and every one, for subjecting him to this humiliation. It was the
head warder who was responsible for the whole mess! As far as he could work out, the escape was all his fault. Somehow one of the lunatics had got hold of his keys.
Cadmus tried to gather his thoughts. He knew what to do: he would go to Acantha’s. She would help him. And she would have food. He needed to get his strength back. She must be wondering
what had happened to him; he had missed the last meal and had been unable to send an explanation.
Cadmus stood up and shuddered. He could still feel their hands on him, grabbing him, trying to kill him! He had shaken them off; after all they were half starved and hardly strong enough to
stand up, let alone hold him down. But the smell and the feel of their scabious hands and the sight of their weeping sores and the look of their running eyes . . . Ugh! It was too much to bear.
His clothes were torn and his face was scratched, and in this state of disarray he began to make his slow, painful way up the shingle until he reached the road. The lights of the town were
beacons of hope and he began to feel as if he could actually be back to normal before too long. As he stumbled along he heard the sound of hoofs from behind.
‘Oh, thank the Lord,’ he rejoiced. His ordeal was almost over. He turned to see a small cart and horse approaching. The driver drew up beside him.
‘I need a ride into town, my good man,’ said Chapelizod in his usual authoritative tone. ‘I have had some bad luck.’
The driver looked doubtful. ‘That’s what they all say. You look like a beggar to me. We don’t like beggars in Opum Oppidulum.’
Cadmus sighed. ‘I will pay you as soon as we get back to my house.’
‘Where is your house?’
‘Er, well, actually I come from the asylum on the island.’ Chapelizod realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.
The driver smiled. ‘So you are a lunatic and a beggar?’
‘No, no,’ said Chapelizod. This wasn’t going at all the way he had hoped.
The man jumped down from the cart and Chapelizod took a step back. A feeling of unease replaced his relief. There was something odd about this fellow’s demeanour. Chapelizod had been
around enough madmen to know the signs.
‘I’ll help you,’ said the driver in a low voice now laced with menace. ‘I’ll put you out of your misery.’ In an instant he swung his unnaturally long arm
round and hit Chapelizod over the head. He fell to the ground and he looked up to see a haze of glittering stars. He put his hand up to his mouth and felt his gold tooth. It has come loose, he
thought angrily. ‘Hey,’ he protested but then the stars went out.
12
Article from
A T RIBUTE TO A MBROSE O SWALD
G RAMMATICUS
by
Cecil Notwithstanding
It is with great regret that I announce the premature death of Mr Ambrose Oswald Grammaticus last week. He was a friend of mine and a gifted man.
A native of Opum Oppidulum, Mr Grammaticus was considered by many to be one of the finest engineers and
to be seen. Cadmus didn’t care. He suspected that the ferryman was in cahoots with the escapees; after all, hadn’t he just rowed him to town even though he must have thought he was a
lunatic? He would arrange for the man to be arrested along with anyone else who had escaped and could be found.
Cadmus still couldn’t believe what had happened. And it was made all the worse by events from the past. For ten years he had been in charge of the asylum with no complaints from
anyone. Well, no one who mattered. He had taken the job when the previous superintendent had gone soft and allowed a dangerous murderer to escape. Ten years without a hitch and now this! At least he
had been spared his life; the other murderous escapee, apparently unreformed, had killed his foolhardy predecessor.
Cadmus gritted his teeth. As for those treacherous cowards, the warders! If he ever got his hands on them they would pay, each and every one, for subjecting him to this humiliation. It was the
head warder who was responsible for the whole mess! As far as he could work out, the escape was all his fault. Somehow one of the lunatics had got hold of his keys.
Cadmus tried to gather his thoughts. He knew what to do: he would go to Acantha’s. She would help him. And she would have food. He needed to get his strength back. She must be wondering
what had happened to him; he had missed the last meal and had been unable to send an explanation.
Cadmus stood up and shuddered. He could still feel their hands on him, grabbing him, trying to kill him! He had shaken them off; after all they were half starved and hardly strong enough to
stand up, let alone hold him down. But the smell and the feel of their scabious hands and the sight of their weeping sores and the look of their running eyes . . . Ugh! It was too much to bear.
His clothes were torn and his face was scratched, and in this state of disarray he began to make his slow, painful way up the shingle until he reached the road. The lights of the town were
beacons of hope and he began to feel as if he could actually be back to normal before too long. As he stumbled along he heard the sound of hoofs from behind.
‘Oh, thank the Lord,’ he rejoiced. His ordeal was almost over. He turned to see a small cart and horse approaching. The driver drew up beside him.
‘I need a ride into town, my good man,’ said Chapelizod in his usual authoritative tone. ‘I have had some bad luck.’
The driver looked doubtful. ‘That’s what they all say. You look like a beggar to me. We don’t like beggars in Opum Oppidulum.’
Cadmus sighed. ‘I will pay you as soon as we get back to my house.’
‘Where is your house?’
‘Er, well, actually I come from the asylum on the island.’ Chapelizod realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.
The driver smiled. ‘So you are a lunatic and a beggar?’
‘No, no,’ said Chapelizod. This wasn’t going at all the way he had hoped.
The man jumped down from the cart and Chapelizod took a step back. A feeling of unease replaced his relief. There was something odd about this fellow’s demeanour. Chapelizod had been
around enough madmen to know the signs.
‘I’ll help you,’ said the driver in a low voice now laced with menace. ‘I’ll put you out of your misery.’ In an instant he swung his unnaturally long arm
round and hit Chapelizod over the head. He fell to the ground and he looked up to see a haze of glittering stars. He put his hand up to his mouth and felt his gold tooth. It has come loose, he
thought angrily. ‘Hey,’ he protested but then the stars went out.
12
Article from
A T RIBUTE TO A MBROSE O SWALD
G RAMMATICUS
by
Cecil Notwithstanding
It is with great regret that I announce the premature death of Mr Ambrose Oswald Grammaticus last week. He was a friend of mine and a gifted man.
A native of Opum Oppidulum, Mr Grammaticus was considered by many to be one of the finest engineers and
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