said. ‘I shall explain.’
He led us out of the room and down a narrow corridor with closed doors to left and right. Striding ahead, he held up a torch to light the way. Reaching the end of the corridor, we descended a narrow spiral stairwell. Shadows flickered against the walls, human outlines exaggerated by the torch’s dancing flame. Our footfalls echoed on the stone stairs. We must have taken a dozen turns down them before Agrippa drew to a halt before a heavy wooden door. ‘Do not be afraid of what you see behind this,’ he said, his face illuminated by shifting patterns of light. ‘For I am master here.’
The room stank – a horrid animal stench. I could not at first understand where the smell was coming from, and Sebastian looked equally bemused. But then, gradually, our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and, at the same moment, I heard a low rumbling sound and the scrabbling of claws on stone. A bear, at least seven feet tall, clambered to its feet, flattening a pile of turds. It was shackled by chains at each ankle and had a thick steel collar about its neck joined to a sturdy chain that ran to a bracket on the wall. Shocked, Sebastian and I both jumped back. The bear was dark brown, with a strip of lighter fur running the length of its torso. Its eyes were darker than the fur, watery and pained. The beast was muzzled, but I could just see a red tongue lolling between broken teeth. It was a dreadful sight, and I was filled with a confusion of emotions. Fear lay uppermost, but pity and puzzlement were there also.
Agrippa stood perfectly still, torch held at head height, silently contemplating the pitiable animal.
‘Fear not,’ the alchemist said. ‘The beast is terrified of fire, and he knows I can wound him mortally before he could possibly harm us.’
‘What is this all about?’ I exclaimed, eyeing the bear warily. ‘Why is this noble creature kept here in the dark, festering in its own filth?’
‘You will soon understand,’ Agrippa said. Before I could tell what he was doing, he’d stepped forward, lifting with his free hand a slender wooden pipe and blowing hard down it. Something flew from the end, catching the light from the torch as it sailed through the air. Then the bear growled. Some sort of dart, akin to the ones I used at play in my youth, was protruding from the beast’s hairy belly. It looked down at it, puzzled. Slowly, the poor creature rocked to and fro before stumbling forward. It snarled and swung one huge paw directly towards me. I fell back just in time, the massive paw slicing the air an inch from my face. The chains binding the creature took the strain and he was yanked back, crashing against the wall, his eyes ablaze. It was then that the animal let out a horrible, agonised wail, a sound of fury and defeat. It shuddered and slid down the wall, legs splayed, eyes vacant.
I stood paralysed, simply staring at the poor beast as Agrippa stepped towards it. From under his cloak he produced a small glass vial.
The creature was shaking uncontrollably. Its eyes were rolling, the whites almost iridescent in the flickering torch flame. Agrippa showed no fear. He grabbed the bear’s head by the fur and yanked it back. The poor thing’s unfocused eyes rolled around in their sockets. The magus ran the vial across the dribbling lips of the beast, catching foam and saliva in the glass receptacle which he stoppered and returned to its place under his cloak.
‘We are done,’ he said, without the slightest visible sign of emotion, and made for the door. Terrified we might be locked in, Sebastian and I swiftly followed him out and watched as he slammed shut the door. Then, barely able to order our racing thoughts, we followed him up the stairs and back to the laboratory.
‘What in the name of the Father did you do down there?’ Sebastian exclaimed. His face was wet from his exertions and he was shaking.
‘I have set you on your way, young man. That is what I have
He led us out of the room and down a narrow corridor with closed doors to left and right. Striding ahead, he held up a torch to light the way. Reaching the end of the corridor, we descended a narrow spiral stairwell. Shadows flickered against the walls, human outlines exaggerated by the torch’s dancing flame. Our footfalls echoed on the stone stairs. We must have taken a dozen turns down them before Agrippa drew to a halt before a heavy wooden door. ‘Do not be afraid of what you see behind this,’ he said, his face illuminated by shifting patterns of light. ‘For I am master here.’
The room stank – a horrid animal stench. I could not at first understand where the smell was coming from, and Sebastian looked equally bemused. But then, gradually, our eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and, at the same moment, I heard a low rumbling sound and the scrabbling of claws on stone. A bear, at least seven feet tall, clambered to its feet, flattening a pile of turds. It was shackled by chains at each ankle and had a thick steel collar about its neck joined to a sturdy chain that ran to a bracket on the wall. Shocked, Sebastian and I both jumped back. The bear was dark brown, with a strip of lighter fur running the length of its torso. Its eyes were darker than the fur, watery and pained. The beast was muzzled, but I could just see a red tongue lolling between broken teeth. It was a dreadful sight, and I was filled with a confusion of emotions. Fear lay uppermost, but pity and puzzlement were there also.
Agrippa stood perfectly still, torch held at head height, silently contemplating the pitiable animal.
‘Fear not,’ the alchemist said. ‘The beast is terrified of fire, and he knows I can wound him mortally before he could possibly harm us.’
‘What is this all about?’ I exclaimed, eyeing the bear warily. ‘Why is this noble creature kept here in the dark, festering in its own filth?’
‘You will soon understand,’ Agrippa said. Before I could tell what he was doing, he’d stepped forward, lifting with his free hand a slender wooden pipe and blowing hard down it. Something flew from the end, catching the light from the torch as it sailed through the air. Then the bear growled. Some sort of dart, akin to the ones I used at play in my youth, was protruding from the beast’s hairy belly. It looked down at it, puzzled. Slowly, the poor creature rocked to and fro before stumbling forward. It snarled and swung one huge paw directly towards me. I fell back just in time, the massive paw slicing the air an inch from my face. The chains binding the creature took the strain and he was yanked back, crashing against the wall, his eyes ablaze. It was then that the animal let out a horrible, agonised wail, a sound of fury and defeat. It shuddered and slid down the wall, legs splayed, eyes vacant.
I stood paralysed, simply staring at the poor beast as Agrippa stepped towards it. From under his cloak he produced a small glass vial.
The creature was shaking uncontrollably. Its eyes were rolling, the whites almost iridescent in the flickering torch flame. Agrippa showed no fear. He grabbed the bear’s head by the fur and yanked it back. The poor thing’s unfocused eyes rolled around in their sockets. The magus ran the vial across the dribbling lips of the beast, catching foam and saliva in the glass receptacle which he stoppered and returned to its place under his cloak.
‘We are done,’ he said, without the slightest visible sign of emotion, and made for the door. Terrified we might be locked in, Sebastian and I swiftly followed him out and watched as he slammed shut the door. Then, barely able to order our racing thoughts, we followed him up the stairs and back to the laboratory.
‘What in the name of the Father did you do down there?’ Sebastian exclaimed. His face was wet from his exertions and he was shaking.
‘I have set you on your way, young man. That is what I have
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