Eclipsis

Chapter 5

          Out on the wall-walk of Tutbury Castle, William, Franzi, Hank and Aalina squint at the sky where they witness the end of a total solar eclipse. The first rays of the sun emerge behind the moon's shadow and, for a breathtaking few seconds, cause a Diamond Ring effect. William shouts: "Don't look into the sun!", and his confused companions comply. They look at each other, not knowing what to say or even think. They are dripping wet, but otherwise there's no proof it ever rained out here. The wall-walk is bone dry, not to mention it seems to look newly built. Ignoring the outlandish circumstances for the moment, Aalina and William kneel down in synchronicity. Will picks up the locket and slips it into his pocket. The girl meanwhile reaches for the mysterious device. Both, while kneeling, pause for a heartbeat and gaze at each other. 'By God, she is beautiful,' he muses. Then he looks at the apparatus cradled in her lap. The instrument is a mostly cylindric object, in width and length just a little bit larger than a man's hand. Four thin electrum bars build a rectangular frame, bisected by a rod. Ten alternating gold and silver plates are stacked onto that middle rod, which serves as an axis. Each beautifully ornate disk is a little over half an inch thick and has an edge with ten ridges in it, numbered from zero to nine.

          Franzi drops her book and takes the device out of the girl's hands. Aalina doesn't protest. In awe, Franzi reads the inscription on the top bar of the frame: ECLIPSIBUS * Siste, viator * Sine sole sileo * Quam terribilis est haec hora. The words are interrupted by a symbol of a black circle with a golden ring around it, and then continue: In hoc signo vinces * Mihi cura futuri * Ab hinc * In saecvla saecvlorvm * Aude sapere * Fugit hora. "Eclipsibus...", Franzi muses with a whisper. Then she turns the Eclipsibus around to read the bottom bar of the frame. It is identical to the top with one exception: * Mihi cura futuri * is replaced by * Laudatores temporis acti *. She studies it from all sides and attempts to turn the disks, but they won't budge. Then she notices how the top bar is lodged securely into the ridges of the disks, holding a certain number combination in place: 0006198454. Franzi reads the number out loud. "What is this thing?" She looks at Aalina but doesn't receive an answer.

          By now the solar eclipse has ended its cycle and the Eclipsibus has started to emanate a quiet hum. Franzi puts her ear to it. Hank has no mind for strange humming devices at the moment. "Where the hell are we?" He looks around. The castle seems brand-new. Faint shouts from a crowd outside the gates become louder. The voices of two men are particularly prominent: "I told ye, this is the work of the devil and his witches!" "Oh will you stop it, Odo! Don't listen to the old fool, good people. There are no witches here." "How else do you explain this witchcraft we just witnessed, Sander?" Alarmed yet undeniably intrigued by the curious argument William clutches his doctor case in front of his chest like a shield and ventures to the edge of the wall-walk. He looks down and his eyes grow wide at what he sees: a medieval marketplace crowded with men, women and children. "They are all in costumes...", he mumbles.   "Why are they all in costumes?" He turns to Hank. "And where did they all come from?" Hank has heard enough. "Something isn't right. We have to get back down the tower. Now!"

          He leaps toward the tower and down the stairs, but Franzi is still occupied with the Eclipsibus and doesn't pay attention. Aalina watches her in silence. William's eyes cloud with worry. "We should go after Mr. Donovan." The next moment Hank returns from the tower with his hands held up in the air. "Not a good idea...", he says dead-pan, as four men follow him onto the wall-walk: a muscular man in his 40s flanked by two armed guards and tailed by a young monk. "Seize them!", the muscular man orders his guards. The guards point their swords at William and Hank. Franzi eyes dart from Will to Hank and back. She whispers: "Should we dare make a run for it?" None of them replies, but Aalina whispers back: "The big one is Hugh Castellan. He's the castellan of Tutbury. Don't anger him." The monk's eyes fixate on Franzi. "There it is", he cries out, and steps in front of the shaken girl to pry the Eclipsibus from her hands. Cradling it against his stomach he shakes his head at Aalina. "How could you?" Aalina looks at her feet. "I beg your forgiveness, Brother Erasmus... I... I..." Tears well up in her eyes and she falls silent. Hugh Castellan inspects his rain-wet captives. "Did you take a swim in the mote?" He turns to Aalina. "Speak, girl. Do you know these men?" Aalina, too scared to answer, just shakes her head. The castellan turns his attention to Hank. "Who let you into the castle?" "We are guests of Lady Amelia. What the bloody hell is this madness?" 

***

          The dungeon is barely lit by the few torches here and there. All cells are empty except the one where our three travelers, with Franzi in the middle, hang shackled in a row against the wall alongside the shackled skeletal remains of a previous occupant to Hank's left. Their feet barely touch the ground, which is covered with molding straw. Franzi buries her nose into her arm to take refuge from the dungeon stink. William is without his eye glasses. Franzi mumbles into her arm: "0006198454." William wonders: "Huh?", albeit not very interested, since he has other worries on his mind. For example how to not breathe in too deeply. Franzi says: "I don't know... Never mind." Then she eyes Hank next to her, who leans against the wall, staring madly at nothing in particular. He has a fresh shiner and his upper lip is bleeding. "Are you alright?" Hank only grunts. Franzi turns back to William. "I'm sorry about your glasses." "I don't exactly need glasses." "Then why did you wear them?" "Oh, I thought they'd make me look-" Hank has enough of their smalltalk and interrupts: "Will you shut up, you two?" He continues with a mocking British accent: "Oh, don't my glasses make me look fantastically smart?", and then in a German accent: "Ja, you look vonderfully scientific." Franzi, feeling slightly insulted, looks at the heavy iron bars. Near the gate is a pile of rotten meaty leftovers, crawling with fat maggots. A few green bottle flies are buzzing around it. Finally she says: "I know this is not the perfect situation we're in, but there's no need to be a jerk. I'm sure if we can assess our situation logically and make the best out of it, then-" Hank is still in an interrupting mood. "Absolutely. Let me assess our situation logically." He takes a deep whiff with exaggeratedly flared nostrils. "It stinks! But I have my arms stretched unnaturally and painfully in a way that doesn't permit me to cover my nose, so I might as well make the best out of it and enjoy. Because there's oh so plenty!" He takes another deep, joyful whiff and Franzi and William look at each other, wondering if Hank has gone mad. Then they look at Hank who grins back at them. Slowly they start grinning as well, and grins become chuckles, and chuckles become laughter, until all three of them laugh and laugh and laugh.

          Their laughter travels through the castle...

***

          Hugh sits at a table with Robert I de Ferrers, the 70-year-old formidable Lord of the Castle. His experience shows in his eyes, and his scars tell the tales of many battles. They are bent over the items they confiscated, William's glasses, the contents of his doctor case, and Franzi's books, when the prisoner's laughter echoes through the chamber. "Is that coming from the dungeon?", Sir Robert wonders. The castellan looks up and muses: "It seems the prisoners have gone mad, my lord." "You've begun the tortures then, Hugh?" "No, Sir. Not yet." Sir Robert points at the strange objects in front of him. "Do you suppose they'll volunteer an explanation for this? Get the tortures started right away." 

          A knock on the door interrupts them, and Hugh opens it to Prior Forwin, the superior of the Tutbury Priory. A shrewd man in his early 30s, remarkable for his open, handsome features at odds with the furtiveness in his eyes, he bows and steps toward Robert I. "Sir Robert de Ferrers, in my capacity as God's servant I request an opportunity to interrogate your prisoners. A priceless treasure has been stolen from our priory, and as result the sun has vanished. It was God's will that Brother Erasmus would retrieve the relic and return it safely into our custody." Forwin bows toward Hugh and adds:  "With the support of Hugh Castellan of course..." Robert barely conceals his impatience and distaste for the prior's interruption, and perhaps for the prior himself. "You have your trophy back, Prior Forwin. What need do you have for my prisoners?" "The people are frightened, Sir." Forwin glances at the instruments and medicines on the table. "And there is talk. Very soon they will know in all of England that the sorcery started here at Tutbury. King Henry will want to know why you, Sir Robert de F-" The lord pounds his fist on the table at this hardly veiled insinuation. "If it's sorcery, Forwin, then no other but you are accountable! Didn't you say it started with that relic of yours?" The prior looks upset: "Stolen because your men can't be troubled to protect my priory!", then adds obligingly: "A friar, long dead now, brought the artifact with him from the ruins of a burned down priory in Hampshire. We call it the Eclipsibus for its inscription. Yet nobody knows what it is. Nobody knows how it works." He picks up William's statoscope and casually looks it. "Maybe these strangers do?" Hugh Castellan won't have any of this. "What about that maidservant, Forwin? She was with them. ... Isn't she cleaning for your mother, who lives right by the priory? She could've snatched the Eclipsi-what and brought it to the castle. She comes here as scullery maid twice a week. The guards let her pass." The prior thinks about this for a moment. "Aalina? Hmm... I will take care of her. Still, I need to see the prisoners. Please, don't force me to waste time sending word to the bishop." Sir Robert I scrutinizes the prior with deep dislike. Forwin smiles, anticipating a decision in his favor.