The Jellicle's Creed
IV
Family Ties
Extracts from the journal of Munkustrap Grayhame
Sequence 01
Memory 02: The Hill to the East
17 May 2011
1
I feel invisible. Like I am stuck in limbo. I still cannot believe he is gone. Along with my house and everything I have ever owned. Thankfully a brick house with scant little wood was hard to burn, it could be rebuilt. But when I do not know. Around me in St Andrews Square is a mess of people wanting answers, wanting to know what happened to their leader and primary benefactor. Their faces drawn and the ladies weeping.
What possessions we managed to save my brother took to his own place across the street, he had covered his windows to keep the view from seeing the burnt out husk of our old home. Smart idea. I had helped design the room, clean it up, rebuild it, but it was him that wanted to at least never have to worry of seeing father's rumored shame.
That was two days ago, after dinner.
My brother and I were at a loss of what to do. I fled the area. But my brother remained. He would not leave. But he did not try to stop me. No, he instead tried to reason with me before I left. With father gone, my studies were for me to take his place. But I am not ready, not yet. Nor will I be.
There are other things on my mind right now. Like funerals, a lot of them. Ellen today. The soldiers tomorrow, Dad and Gus... the day after tomorrow. With little else to do but write this I do not know entirely if I can go through today. I left during the fire while the firemen were trying to put out the flames, I could not bear to hear my fathers screaming, his torment. For all I know it was my fault.
I left them then. I chose not to stay, because I was unable to bear being around the memories. So I left, and within this dinky room I manages to procure for myself I will continue my story...
2
A few days after I had spoke to Tim Baringtons eyeball, what he had said played on my mind. So I wondered. Since I could read at the time quite well I went to my fathers library. He was not there, so I began looking through the history books he possessed. Not finding anything I went to find one of the servants. Or even mother, Muriel.
Muriel. My mother. At least what I was told. Muriel joined our lettle family when I was a kitten, barely a day or so old. When father moved into the mansion the first time all those years ago. We had as much in common as the guy that brought the coal for the furnace. Less probably, if I thought about it, I thought simply that the man and I did share a laugh every now and again, but Muriel, I never saw her smile, much less laugh unless it was something my baby brother had done to make it so.
Mother had long black hair. She was rather pretty. She was tall and strong too. Something about her my father really liked and so married her apparently after I was born. I never was told of my real mother though. I never thought about it. Not once, but now I do. Nevertheless I sought Muriel to ask her some questions.
Though she was not me, or near my age, she never played with me. Ellen did. And for so many years of being turned away or lied to from Muriel I gave up on asking if she wanted to be with me. Neverless I found her in the front room. She was doing some needlework. Amazing stuff too at the time. Though she scowled a lot. That pretty stern smile her friends said she had, I called it scowling. I never saw her smile.
Ever.
The thing was, even though we were practially guests in each others lives, like ships traveling in the same harbor, but never making contact, We had the same man in our lives. My father, her husband. And since she was married to my father, I figured to ask her as much as I could. I knew she'd know more then I did about my father. That was what drew her to him in the first place.
Though I knew, being ten, I was either too young, or too stupid to understand, or in some cases, too short to understand, but that meant nothing. She did not see me as I saw my father. I always ytried to engage her in conversation, though each time I came away none the wiser. To annoy her perhaps. But this time I was determined. Only a few days after I spoke with Tims Eyeball, it was because I wanted to know what he had meant. After all, Tim was my friend.
So I asked her "What do people say about us ?"
She sighed theatrically and looked up from her needlework. "What do you mean squirt ?" She asked me
"Just that" I replied, "What do people say about us".
"Are you talking about gossip ?" She asked
"If you like." I replied
"And what do you care about gossip ? Aren't you a bit too..."
"I care." I replied, cutting her off before she could say I was too young, or too stupid, or too short.
"Do you ? Why ?" She asked me, clearly surprised was her tone.
"Somebody said something, that's all." I said, as truthful as I could be at the time.
She put aside her work, turning to me she asked "Who ? Who said it, and what did they say ?"
"A boy down along the fence in the back gardens." I replied. "He said our family was strange and that father was a..." I stopped.
"What ?" She pressed.
"I never found out." I said.
She smiled and once more picked up her needlework, "So that is what set you thinking is it ?" She asked.
"Well, wouldn't it you ?" I asked her.
"I already know everything I need to know." She replied. "Besides, I couldn't give two shits about what they say about us next door."
"Well, tell me then. What did father do before I was born ?" I pressed for answers.
Muriel did smile, sometimes. And when she did it was normally to exert a little power over someone, normally me. "You will find out" Was all she said.
"When ?"
"All in good time." She replied "After all, you are his First male heir."
There was a long pause. "How do you mean 'first male heir' ? What is the difference between that and my little brother ?" I asked her.
She sighed. "Well, at the moment. Not much. Though you have studies, and tyytour brother does not."
That got me wondering what father was planning for our futures. "He does not ?" But on recollection I already knew that, Tugger was still a baby, barely five years old, and a mammas boy to boot.
"No Munk, he does not have leadership studies. No child has leader studies, Munkus, not in Bloomsbury, or any of London for that matter. Nobody but you. Haven't you been told why ?"
"Told what ?"
"Not to say anything ?"
"Yes, but..."
"Well didn't you ever wonder why you were not supposed to say anything ?" Maybe I had, maybe I hadn't. Maybe I knew all along without knowing it. I said nothing in reply. Muriel continued. "you will soon find out what is in store for you." She said, "We all will find out. Our lives have been preset, we just follow the path laid out before us."
"Well, then. What is in store for him ?" I asked her, him meaning my little brother Tugger.
She gazed at me somewhat tersely. "What is in store for him is the wrong question," She replied. "Who is in store is more accurate" She said, I looked at her, what the hell did she mean ? But I knew better then to ask due to the look in her eyes, and the needles she used. She knew how to whip with them when needed to. So rather then try and get further information from her. I instead put the book I had been trying to read down on the sofa side table and left the room.
I left that room knowing something that I had not known before, something that was never told to me, yet something I knew had ot be going on. Something that I had to speak to my father about later that day when my studies began, tuesdays were when Mr Tuttlewood was off. So my father himself taught me directly on those days when Mr Tuttlewood went to Madrid to see family.
I stepped into the grand hallway of the mansion my father rebuild, brick by brick, nail by nail. I stood for a long moment in front of the massive thick oak study door. For long momentts I stood there thinking over what mother told me. Told me about my being fathers first male heir, and Tugger his second. With no meaning behind it, Tugger getting no studies, but me burdened with them daily. Morning, noon and evening. With so little time to be on my own.
3
About a month after my birthday father took me and mother along with Tugger to breakfast in London. He drove the car. A large van he liked very much. Said he got it shortly after returning from the war and shortly before I was born. Father made sure that I was fed and happy most of the time, And each time I spotted Muriel she had a sneer that disappeared when father was looking towards her, it was like a sixth sense the woman possessed. She was not a Jellicle, I was never able to see through the glamour if she was. Whatever control she had over me, while eating breakfast with my father, any thoughts of it was set by the wayside.
Later that day after a day traveling across London getting items for fathers study, some of the items quite old. We returned home. As we did so I imaged the Dawns or the Barringtons seeing us return. Seeing us and think "Here come the Grayhame Family, home from a day out."
But then, being a child at the time, I naturally thought that.
4
The area around Chesterfield was crowded with people of all sorts as we arrived. The market street was filled with vendors. There was no place for father to park the van until he made it to his normal customary space. We soon as father parked our door was iopened and we were helped inside quite quickly, possible too quickly.
Even so, during that short walk from the van to the shopping establishment, a pawnshop of some sort. I looked quickly to my left and right. I saw a little of London: the body of a dog lying in a street gutter, a poor human sod vomiting against a building at the mouth of an alley, flower sellers, beggars, drunkards, stret urchins that splashed in the mud that seethed like rivers on the street.
And then we were inside.
The inside of the store was filled with shelves upon shelves of stuff. Old stuff. Stuff that was in use well before I was born. My father let us wander. Find one item we really liked, and we could buy it. I'd been there before, a strange gray haired man whom I could see the cat inside of him, oversaw the store. When he saw father the two seemed like old friends and began talking. Father went with the strange gray haired man behind the counter to the office. Mother took Tugger upstairs to look at infants items. Which left me to look over stuff that I knew father would want me to look at in the first place. Since I was too old for infant stuff, iWasn't Tug ?/i I wondered. I shook my head, It did not matter.
As I wandered through the variuous shelves I got curious and went to the counter and started sorting through the stuff recently arrived at the shop. Apparently Goldman shop was very popular with sellers of junk. But some of the items I actually was confused about.
Crystal cubes.
Of course, as a child I called them glass blocks. Father and Mr Goldman called them crystal cubes. Data carriers, apparently. I paid no heed. I found something else in the box. A book.
Not just any book, but a history book. iThe History of the Crusades, the Templar Order, and the Brotherhood/i I read to myself quietly. I was not learned enough to read the book since most of it was written in Itlian. I had yet to learn it myself. But I was able to understand a lot of it, it was written in our native langauge known as Siamese.
As I sifted through the pages of the book my eyes caught on one page. A tantalizing fragment of some form or another, ancient in its writing, yet looking brand new. My mother thtought me crazy that I found a book I wanted to read. Yet said nothing. Any thoughts of her lack of control over me was dashed to the wayside as I sifted through the pages. And focused on that tantalizing fragment that read...
I have been with the artefact for days, or has it been weeks ? Months ? Years ? The others come from time to time to offer distractions of food, drink and travels outside the city. Yet I cannot seem to pull myself away from these dark studies. I know in my heart that I must leave for times needed of breaks. To separate myself from this device. This Apple of Eden must be understood, and if not by me, then who ? Talak has been supportive, but even now that old edge has returned to his voice. Like an old friend. Still, my work must continue. This device is simple, its functions easy to understand. Elementary, even: dominion. Control. But its methods to exploit these things. The means to do it. It is this that makes it so facinating! It is temptation incarnate. Those subjected to its glow are promised all that they desire. It asks only one thing, complete and total obedience. And who can truly refuse ? I remember my own moment of weakness when confronted by Whitefoot Gladesmere, my mentor, and my confidence was shaken to its core by his words. He, who had been like a father to me, was now revealed to be my greatest enemy. Just the briefist flicker of doubt was all he needed to creep into my mind and take hold. But I vanquished his phantoms—restored my self confidence—and sent him from this world. I freed myself from his control. But now I wonder, is this true ? For here I sit—desperate to understand that which I intended to destroy. I sense it is more then just a weapon, a tool to ensare men and Jellicle minds alike. Or is it ? Perhaps it is simply following in it's design: showing me what it was that I sought. Knowledge... Always hovering, just out of reach. Beckoning. Promising. Tempting...
I closed the book as I heard voices break in on my thoughts. My father was speaking with the owner of the shop. I set the book on the counter next to the stuff my father wished to purchase. Though by the time I got to the door to listen in. Their voices had quieted, I'd never find out until later when I was older what they were talking about, if that.
5
At last we returned home. My father took me into his study when he saw the book, and we both read it a bit. He knew the itlian better then I, and seeing how I was having troubles reading the book because of the strange itlian writing he spoke up after a few minutes of my struggles. He could read it easily. So he said "Munkustrap. You enjoyed today did you not ?"
"I did." I replied truthfully. "I enjoyed it very much"
"What did you think of Mr Goldman ?" Father asked me.
"I thought him very well assured. A man of thinking I should say." I replied
Father smiled and nodded "Goldman is a good man indeed. A man of integrity, honor, and a bit of micheif. He sets great store by appearance, by manner and proper honor where it is due. Unlike some, who wear honor and manners like a badge when it suits them. He is a good man. A proud man of honor" He said
I merely nodded "Yes, sir" I replied softly. My eys once more drawn to the book we had purchased that sat on his desk.
Father smiled, his eyes shining, "Ah, you are thinking of the book, and what it speaks!" He said.
I couldn't lie to my father, so I replied simply and truthfully, "Yes, sir"
Father beckoned me closer to the desk and opened the book. Once again the mixed words of Itlian—which as a child I reffered to as human gibberish I could not undeerstand—it was mixed with Siamese, which I could read easily, and also English and some Chinese both of which I was in the proccess of learning daily. "So what about it son ?" He asked me.
I was transfixed again on the page in Siamese talking about that device, that Apple of Eden. Whatever it was. I wanted to find out more. So instead I asked, "What were you and Mr Goldman talking about ? When I found the book I wanted to show it to you, but you were deep in conversation with him. What was it about ?" I could not help but see glances, sidelong, and otherwise, towards me as my father and Mr Goldman spoke between each other. It had to be about me.
"Goldman saw how you were engrossed in the book, which was why he gave it to us freely, 'You need not pay for items that your son finds so facinating', he said to me, he pointed at you as well a few times, speaking of how focused on the book you were at the counter. He saw too that you struggled with some of the words. He made an offer I sould mention." Father explained. I looked up at him curious, what form of an offer I was about to ask when father answered my unasked question.
"Mr Goldman offered to teach you the humans words that you cannot understand, Itlian it is called." Father explained, "Mr Goldman offered to teach you for a small fee. I said I would think about it tonight and get back to him in the morning." I just nodded, it sounded like a plan to me. My father smiled at me, "For now I think it best we both get some sleep. Go on now. Get to bed." he said, he then stood from the desk and hoped I was gone by the time he put the book away. I wasn't, and I saw exactly where he put it.
M. G.
Flawless Cowboy
Munkus relaxed on the rooftop deck of the Mansion. For a long time he stared at the clouds. Relaxing like he always did, as was his way in fact. Everything was calm and peaceful. It was one of those few times he had to himself recently. He just sat on the rooftop deck. Looking towards the darkinging skies to the east as the sun set behind him. For a moment he thought he saw something, someone, moving towards St Andrews Square. Where he called his home. It was not unusual for cars to be going to and from the town, that much he knew.
He cracked open the book he had with him, now nearly fifteen years he'd had the book. He remembered buying it from that pawnbroker guy at that shop, long since closed up and gone. He flicked to the page he had all but memorised, and read the tantalizing fragment of something else entirely. Either written in Itlian, or not, he never found any more mention of it in the book. Nor when he looked on the internet for information as well. Sadly he was not finding much, if at all. On any of the topics he sought when online. That meant local libraries could have what he sought.
But it was not history he was looking for, but information, knowledge, the apple of eden, what was it ? Why could he not find anything about it in any online search ? Going to the local library was helpful only so far. But he'd long since taken those books back, his notes scattered throughout the house. His father refused to talk, much, if at all on what the Apple of Eden even was. Sadly, Deuteronomy did not know anything about the Apple to save his own skin. Such would lead to his undoing.
Munkus read the tantalizing fragment again. Each time he tried to envision what the artefact looked like it came out differently. Nothing like he expected or thought it'd look like at all. He went through the book carefully, he found notes and drawings on weapons of some kind, arm mounted weapons. Most of it human designed hands as far as Munkus could tell. They'd fit him, if he could figure out how to make those devices.
He turned to a page that showed a tomahawk, a unique sigle was the blade shape, it was hollow, silverbright steel. With a black longwood handle. Perfect for throwing, defending oneself, and also chopping up enemies. Munkus smiled seeing the item. But why was he thinking this way ? He wondered, Why was he thinking like a killer ? What could come of it ? Did it matter ? What was the point of all these unique arm mounted weapons if not to deal death by just touching another ? It made little sense for him to think like a killer.
He was not a killer, he was the son of a war hero. Heck if Munkus could help it, he kept himself calm and good natured as best he could, he studied constantly to take his fathers place in socity. Yeah, that was why he studied, to be a gentleman like his father, the son of a war hero and good man.
At least, that was his hope. Munkus smiled as he heard voices from downstairs, Tugger had returned with Old Gus. About time. Dinner was to be served shortly!
Grayhame Manor
Dining Room
Dinner was served promptly at six, like the night before, and the night before that, hell dinner was served each night at six exactly. Ellen made sure of that. Munkus himself noticed how Ellen seemed slightly distracted at times recently due to the sudden arrival of soldiers from London's Police Station. Armed me ready to defend our home. The valet was not the least bit worried, since he rarely came into the home himself, but Munkus wondered what it had meant. His father had said that he had come across information that could harm them, so the soldiers were there to provide a means of security that some systems could not even dream to give.
So Munkus let the matter drop at the time. Dinner passed in silence. The book set next to him on the table. Gus was there. Periodically during dinner the older man eyed the book with measured curious glances. Finally when the plates were removed from the table, Munkus once more was going through the book. Part of his studies included reading it, mostly for the languages within it. Mr Goldman was a good teacher. The old man however passed on soon after Munkus finished his studies with the man.
The shop was then willed to the old mans brother, whom people reffered to constantly as that Davenport Crazyman. Who in turn Munkus never was able ot meet because shortly after the new owner took over the shop, his father started going to another junk dealer. Somehow though Munkus knew he'd be going back to it when the time came. That shop held answers, answers to the questions that filled his mind, those glass cubes for instance. He was unable to find them in the other shops he and his father went to. Nor were they able to find any more information about them either.
It was after Ellen left to do her kitchen duties when Gus spoke up. "I see you two have been reading that book end to end lately" He said
"Yes" Munkus replied, he had picked up a pair of chopsticks from the table center. They always had some form of chinese food from the other side of town delivered, and when it arrived they'd use the chopsticks. Mr Tuttlewood made it clear on how to use them properly. He was tapping the end of one of the red sticks against the page in the book. It was opene to a hidden blade device of some form. "I am trying to think of how I can make one of these. If at all." He said
Gus looked over, "May I ?" He asked, Munkus nodded, Gus leaned over carefully, looking at everything. Taking in all the information he could, finally he asked Munkus. "Do you by chance have a pen and some paper ? There are things we must write down if you still wish to make one of these. If you are able that is." Old Ironfoot was a good man, a Jellicle as far as Munkus and Tugger could see, like their father, very old too.
Munkus nodded and went to get the items. Within five minutes Gus had used up ten sheets of paper labeled in Siamese as numbers. Writing, diagrams, and images were expertly copied over. As Gus wrote and drew pages every few minutes Munkus found a binder and placed the new pages into it in the order that Gus was drawing and writing them. He was speaking as he worked.
"This is a rare find, why I was not told of it eariler I will never know. Now I am glad those art classes and speed drawing classes paid off. You see this item here, you need a certain kind of steel for it, I am sure most autoshops and small antique stores carry it. But you wont find it easy, its not something you can walk into a bank for either. Metal like this, that does not rust, but can easily be beaten and etched, you will have to look to loccal swordshops mostly I think
"This one here, a steel alloy, primarily sharped with a nail file or similar item to keep the edge keen and ready for use. The tips are likeiwse, sharpened with a nail file or similar. Not something I'd recommend at all time uses, but similar. For now however I think we need to figure some things out. Here, more paper lad there is still more book to translate." Gus said, he was translating the entire book for Munkus on the spot. He needed more paper. The writing was in Siamese. The drawings and diagrams also in Siamese so no humans could try to steal them and make them work. Munkus retrieved the paper and also got some more pens and pencils for Gus.
Deuteronomy smiled, this was the first time in recent years that he saw his elder son so engrossed in a project. But when Gus started talking of making those hidden blades and similar items it meant more then anything, that there was going to be trouble coming. And quickly too. So he said "Now, should you make these items in this book, son. I want your promise that you wont go out and try to cause trouble for the police department and local governments." He said
"Why would I do that father ? I'd only defend our home. I'd only hunt those that have wronged us in any manner as well. I wont do it actively and in public though either." Munkus replied, Tugger looked up from his dt coke. Clealy surprised at the crazy talk his brother was spewing out.
"Seriously Old Bean you gotta be joking!" Tugger said around a piece of chicken "You, killing in secret ? Ha! The day you manage to kill a human or Pollicle I will personally see hell freeze over." He snickerd loudly at that thought. Munkus said nothing.
Two hours later and Gus was finally done. He gave Munkus both books after making sure the binding of the new translation was strong enough. "Put both of these somewhere safe from harm of the elements, you never know what might occur." He said.
Munkus nodded, he knew just the place. His pickup truck had a gunsafe in its rearseat compartment with a digital comibnation lock/scanner. Without a word he took his leave and left out the back door to the detatched garage where the family cars were kept. He unlocked his pickup truck, a massive Ford F450 SuperDuty. And opened the compartment under the backseat of the supercrew cab. Opening the gunsafe he also had back there, but never used. He slid both books in there and made sure they fit snugly. Then he resealed the safe, locked it, then closed the compartment and lowered the backseat.
Grayhame Manor
Three hours later
A few hours later, after Munkus took a walk, and Tugger went back home across the street. The doorbell rang at the Grayhame Mansion, Ellen answered it, "Can I help you gentlemen ?" She asked, she saw three large, broad shouldered, strong men. Standing under the overhang to get away from the snow that began to fall rather heavy.
"Yes, is Mr Grayhame home ? It is rather urgent we see him presently." One of the men said, One of the men was dressed in a dark coat and hat to cover what dark red hair Ellen saw. His hawklike nose and narrow gaunt face made him look like a older man of sorts.
The woman stood to the side and let the three men enter. "Wont you come in ?" She said, When they had done so she spoke again as she closed the door "I shall inform the Master that you have arrived, do take a seat in the drawing room." She left the front hall then, leaving the three men alone
The man in the dark coat removed his hat, his shock of dark red hair fell around his face and down his shoulders. He spoke quietly to his two fellows in a strange langauge. "iSearch the grounds, Tasu, you take the upstairs, try not to be seen, if found mention you seek the washroom, Masui, you take the ground floor. If you find anything that mentions of why we've come here, even a map. Grab it. Once you each search a room, slicken it for firing. Go/i" The two men nodded, one went up the stairs like a shadow, the other went to the kitchen at the back of the house.
"Ah sir, if you could wait but a moment, the master is busy at the present in confernce with someone, I do not know who. But perhaps the young master could be of help to you ?" Ellen said, without a word the trenchcoated man stepped up to her and smiled, it was the last thing Ellen ever saw. She sank to the floor, dead as the hidden blade passed into her neck without a sound.
The man then shouldered his way into the study. "Good, you are home Mr Grayhame. And I see your fellow is with you as well. What happened, no molre ladies to court ?" The man, a Mr Marcus Darvine of Cardiff had taken the libery to allow himself into the Grayhame Mansion. Macavitys orange eyes took in his father. "No matter."
"What do you want Darvine ?" Dueteronomy asked. His arms crossed across his chest. He'd taken the precaution to put on his hidden blades on both his arms.
"Simple Mr Grayhame. I merely wish to ask you a rather... personal... question." Macavity replied. In his guise of Marcus Darvine his dark red hair framed a well kept face with a neatly trimmed beard. Though he could see the Jellicle behind those he faces, and they could see the ginger furred mancat before them.
"A personal question can wait until after dinner Mr Darvine. Why come now ?" Gus asked, the elder retired actor was known to play good parts, like a doctor in a staged medical drama not too long before.
"This question, Mr ..." Marcus looked to Gus
"Ironfoot." Gus replied, "Gus Ironfoot. Retired actor and vietnam veteran." He said with a small bow.
"Well, either way, the question is this. Do you know how Brazil was conqoured by the Portougese ?" Deuteronomy traded looks with Gus, then looked back at Marcus, "Five hundred years ago, The Spainards came to Brazil, guns blazing. The natives killed every last Spainard. But the Portougese, they came bearing gifts, mirrors, trinkets, things the natives could not make on their own. Of course, to get those items the natives then worked for the Portougese. And over time, the natives were soon no different then those that brought them gifts, Give them things, and they will give anything to keep them coming."
"So what does this have to do with your showing up here at my home ?" Deuteronomy asked.
Marcus smiled, "I thought you'd never ask" He stepped up to Deuteronomy and Gus, they were within reach of the large ginger tom. "It is because of one fact." Fast as a snake his arms were up, and the hidden blades sprang forth from his sleeves. Stabbing both toms in the hearts.
They both sank to the ground in a heap. "Mother sends her regards. Pity she was not here herself to give them to you directly. Now if you two gentletoms will excuse me I have a bank to rob." With that the trench coated man picked up his hat from the desk and left the study.
As his fellows returned he asked one of them who had just arrived "Is Mother settled in ?" He made sure to get a house not far away for his mother. It worked, for the nonce.
The man nodded. "Yes sir, Madam awaits you now. Says it is urgent that you are present." The man replied.
"Good." Marcus said, he then called out to the others. "Torch it when we have what we need. Move." With that, Macaivty took his leave of his fathers home. A smile on his face.
As he started to leave, another man spoke, "And if we cannot find what we see ?"
"Tear the place apart until you find it, I want that key! Now do it." With that Macaivty left the Grayhame mansion.