recall.”
John launched into a highly simplified rendition of the structure of the atom and the way particle colliders work, watching Wisdom closely for signs of comprehension, but the man was impassive. At the same time, Dirk’s mind had clearly wandered off somewhere far away, for when the young man finished his drink he let his eyes close and his chin fall to his chest. John carried on, explaining the Hercules program and the experiment that had gone bad. He talked about Emily, about Woodbourne.
At the mention of Brandon Woodbourne, Dirk’s eyes opened wide. It seemed he’d been listening after all.
“That sod’s gone off to Earth, then? Bloody ’ell! Well you can ’ave ’im. Nasty piece of business, that one.”
“He lives in your village?” John asked.
“Well, I’d say ’e roams about the shire, only a short ways better than a rover, thieving, doing ’is worst to fowks. ’E takes a considerable pleasure in choking and stabbing. I’ve asked me soldier acquaintances to deal with ’im but ’e’s a slippery one.”
John kept going but he’d need to ask about these rovers at some point. He talked about the theory of how a bridge between the two worlds had formed and about the experiment that had brought him to the place that Dirk called Down.
At that, Wisdom finally nodded and smiled.
“Quaint name, Down. I know the simple folk like to call it that. The name Hell does tend to make one shudder. So fraught with connotation, so biblical.”
John hardly noticed another presence in the room until he heard her clearing her throat. A fat, elderly woman, her face awash in moles, a scarf tied around her white hair, stood by the door, waiting to be acknowledged.
Wisdom looked up.
“Would you be wanting me to bring in some supper?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” Wisdom replied, impatiently. “Just get on with it.” He turned back to John. “I’m quite lucky to have a female, even though she’s quite repugnant. But at least she can cook which makes one’s existence the more tolerable.”
“I’m awful hungry,” Dirk said, childlike. “Do I get to eat as well?”
“Yes, Dirk, I suppose I’ll let you have some of my food. Now, I’m being rude, John. There’s an outhouse. Go down the hall and outside behind the house. You’ll find a trough of water for a wash if you like. We’ll eat, drink some more and talk until we are quite blue in the face.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” John said, rising.
When he’d left, Dirk timidly inquired if he was allowed to ask a question of his own.
“What do you want?”
“Are you going to be telling ‘im that I brung the lady ’ere too?”
Wisdom delivered a withering look.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“’Course not! You told me if I ever opened me mouth ’bout that you’d cut off me tongue.”
“Your tongue, your hands, your cock, and by God, your head! He’s never to know. No one must know, do you understand?”
Dirk nodded vigorously, as if the harder he worked his neck, the more believable he was.
“You was right clever not saying nothing ’bout all the Earth business when the lady sang you much the same song.”
Wisdom sneered, “Yes, I suppose I might aspire to be a player at Drury Lane if there were a Drury Lane in Hell, Dirk, my cretinous fool. Now shut your mouth. He’s returning.”
John settled himself back down and the old woman returned carrying a large platter of food and steel utensils.
“It’s mutton and boiled turnips,” Wisdom said rather proudly. “I shall be switching to wine. How about you, John? It’s quite good, from Francia.”
“France?”
“Yes, of course. The old names tend to stick here.”
“Sure. I’ll have some wine. What’s England called?”
“We are Brittania.”
John hadn’t realized how hungry the horseback ride had left him. He ignored the gaminess of the meat and shoveled down the food. One hard bite did a number on his most vulnerable tooth and he fished a piece of it
John launched into a highly simplified rendition of the structure of the atom and the way particle colliders work, watching Wisdom closely for signs of comprehension, but the man was impassive. At the same time, Dirk’s mind had clearly wandered off somewhere far away, for when the young man finished his drink he let his eyes close and his chin fall to his chest. John carried on, explaining the Hercules program and the experiment that had gone bad. He talked about Emily, about Woodbourne.
At the mention of Brandon Woodbourne, Dirk’s eyes opened wide. It seemed he’d been listening after all.
“That sod’s gone off to Earth, then? Bloody ’ell! Well you can ’ave ’im. Nasty piece of business, that one.”
“He lives in your village?” John asked.
“Well, I’d say ’e roams about the shire, only a short ways better than a rover, thieving, doing ’is worst to fowks. ’E takes a considerable pleasure in choking and stabbing. I’ve asked me soldier acquaintances to deal with ’im but ’e’s a slippery one.”
John kept going but he’d need to ask about these rovers at some point. He talked about the theory of how a bridge between the two worlds had formed and about the experiment that had brought him to the place that Dirk called Down.
At that, Wisdom finally nodded and smiled.
“Quaint name, Down. I know the simple folk like to call it that. The name Hell does tend to make one shudder. So fraught with connotation, so biblical.”
John hardly noticed another presence in the room until he heard her clearing her throat. A fat, elderly woman, her face awash in moles, a scarf tied around her white hair, stood by the door, waiting to be acknowledged.
Wisdom looked up.
“Would you be wanting me to bring in some supper?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” Wisdom replied, impatiently. “Just get on with it.” He turned back to John. “I’m quite lucky to have a female, even though she’s quite repugnant. But at least she can cook which makes one’s existence the more tolerable.”
“I’m awful hungry,” Dirk said, childlike. “Do I get to eat as well?”
“Yes, Dirk, I suppose I’ll let you have some of my food. Now, I’m being rude, John. There’s an outhouse. Go down the hall and outside behind the house. You’ll find a trough of water for a wash if you like. We’ll eat, drink some more and talk until we are quite blue in the face.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” John said, rising.
When he’d left, Dirk timidly inquired if he was allowed to ask a question of his own.
“What do you want?”
“Are you going to be telling ‘im that I brung the lady ’ere too?”
Wisdom delivered a withering look.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“’Course not! You told me if I ever opened me mouth ’bout that you’d cut off me tongue.”
“Your tongue, your hands, your cock, and by God, your head! He’s never to know. No one must know, do you understand?”
Dirk nodded vigorously, as if the harder he worked his neck, the more believable he was.
“You was right clever not saying nothing ’bout all the Earth business when the lady sang you much the same song.”
Wisdom sneered, “Yes, I suppose I might aspire to be a player at Drury Lane if there were a Drury Lane in Hell, Dirk, my cretinous fool. Now shut your mouth. He’s returning.”
John settled himself back down and the old woman returned carrying a large platter of food and steel utensils.
“It’s mutton and boiled turnips,” Wisdom said rather proudly. “I shall be switching to wine. How about you, John? It’s quite good, from Francia.”
“France?”
“Yes, of course. The old names tend to stick here.”
“Sure. I’ll have some wine. What’s England called?”
“We are Brittania.”
John hadn’t realized how hungry the horseback ride had left him. He ignored the gaminess of the meat and shoveled down the food. One hard bite did a number on his most vulnerable tooth and he fished a piece of it
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