20
Thursday, April 26, 1792 – 11:20 a.m.
Fairhurst Castle, England
The sunshine grew brighter and brighter as the morning progressed. The warmth of the day was beginning to manifest itself upon Ailsa as she lay sleeping in her bed. Opening her eyes, it took her a few minutes to recognize what was going on. As the fog in her head slowly cleared, she began to remember the events of that morning. Her breakfast, the walk to the lighthouse, her nightmare on the walkway and her subsequent walk back home. Judging from the light outside, Ailsa figured she must have slept at least an hour after having laid down to rest. Staring up at the ceiling, she thought about the events that had unfolded earlier. She replayed the horrifying scene in her head of her fall from the lighthouse walkway and shivers ran down her spine. She felt much better now, but the images in her head were still as real as ever. As she thought about her descent down the lighthouse stairs and back to the castle, her mind tripped on the one thing that had perplexed her earlier. The drain at the bottom of the castle. Why had it been loose? She tried to tell herself that it had been the lighthouse keeper, but that just didn’t make any sense. Something didn’t feel right about it. She decided to check things out to satisfy her own burning curiosity.
Leaving her bedroom and descending the winding stairway all the way to the bottom of the tower, Ailsa set out to find the lighthouse keeper. Not only was he the lighthouse keeper, he also did various other chores around the grounds. She wasn’t sure where he’d be at, but she could make some accurate guesses.
Leaving the great hall and wandering out into the bright spring morning, Ailsa walked across the bailey in search of Cuthbert. Crossing a drain in the courtyard of the bailey, Ailsa’s mind jumped back to the odd sensation that something was amiss with the drain in the lighthouse. Reaching the other side of the bailey, Ailsa found Cuthbert working on repairing some loose stones in the castles inner wall. Not only did Cuthbert take care of the maintenance on the lighthouse, he also did a lot of maintenance around the castle itself. As far as Ailsa was concerned, if it weren’t for Cuthbert, the castle might have fallen into disarray years ago.
“Cuthbert.”
Cuthbert turned around, his peppered gray hair matted against his sweaty face, dirt smudges present on his forehead and cheeks. His full beard and tattered hat made him look even more weathered as he looked curiously into Ailsa’s eyes. Straightening up, a trowel in his hand and stone dust on his clothes, he spoke.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Please, Cuthbert, I’ve told you a million times, just call me Ailsa.”
“Yes Ailsa?” His slow, methodic, drawn-out speech made one feel they were talking to someone with wisdom beyond compare. With every word he spoke, it felt as if he were drawing up words of wisdom and understanding from the wells of knowledge that he had collected over many decades.
“Have you been out to the lighthouse lately?”
“Not today. I usually don’t go out until the evening, just before dusk to make sure everything’s working, as it should. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the loss of life should some ship crash into those dastardly rocks below that lighthouse.” Cuthbert’s slow, methodical answer gave Ailsa the impression she was listening in slow motion.
“Is there some problem ma’am?” Cuthbert straightened just a little more, although it didn’t seem possible that he could. His concerned look told Ailsa that he was worried something was wrong and that he was responsible.
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong Cuthbert. I was out there this morning and when I left, I noticed the drain was a little loose. I thought maybe you had been working on it or something.” Ailsa’s speech seemed so much faster than Cuthbert’s that she thought she was going to confuse him. He had no problem taking in her words however, and replied in a molasses voice.
“I haven’t been working on the drain at all. Matter of fact, I’ve done no maintenance on the lighthouse in some time. Hasn’t needed any. If you want, I’ll go out right now and check things out.”
“No, that’s fine. It’s not a problem. I was just wondering.”
“Are you sure ma’am, I’m sorry, Ailsa? It’s not a problem.”
His voice dripped with concern and interest as he spoke to Ailsa.
“Really Cuthbert, it’s no problem. I just wondered. I’ll let you get back to your work. And thanks for being so conscientious about taking care of things around here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s my job,” Cuthbert said in a thick, syrupy voice. “I enjoy having something to do. Enjoy the beautiful sun today Ailsa.”
“I will. And you do the same.”
Cuthbert tipped his stained and worn hat to Ailsa and turned back to his work at hand. Ailsa turned and walked across the bailey headed for the lighthouse.
Ailsa’s mind was wandering as she absent-mindedly sauntered along the well-worn path that led out to the sea and the lighthouse. The air was beginning to warm and the pleasant smell of grass and new spring growth invigorated her. That, mixed with the alluring scent of the salt sea, caused waves of calm to wash over her. This was why she had never moved away. It was so peaceful, so beautiful and so soothing to the soul. If Ailsa was stressed, ill or depressed, this was the kind of day that would pull her from the depths of her pain. Without even realizing it, Ailsa looked up just in time to see the lighthouse door not more than 20 feet away. She’d been in such a state of relaxation and meditation that she hadn’t even been paying attention to where she was going. Stopping to listen to the ocean below and to take in a lungful of fresh air, Ailsa re-focused her mind on the reason she had come out here. The drain. The loose lid on the drain.
Opening the door, Ailsa stepped inside. The gloominess of the interior and the musty smell of stone, mortar and age assaulted her senses. She stopped momentarily to allow her eyes to readjust to the semi-darkness. Once adjusted, she could see much better. Looking down at the drain, she studied it carefully for a few moments before bending down on her knees. Running her fingers lightly along the edge of the drain, Ailsa could tell that the dirt had been disturbed recently. It wasn’t compacted into the outer groove, but lay rather loosely along the edge. A few scrape marks indicated that the lid to the drain had not just been out of place, but had actually been completely removed and slid to the side. The scrape marks were still fresh, indicating that someone or something had opened the cover that very day, probably that morning. A cold shiver ran down Ailsa’s spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She realized that very possibly, she had not been alone when she’d descended the stairs earlier that morning. Slowly looking up and behind her, Ailsa’s heart was racing. Was someone still here? Where are they hiding? Who are they? Standing up slowly to minimize her noise, Ailsa looked around the entire base of the lighthouse. The only real hiding place would be behind the stairs. Although no one was there now, someone may have been earlier. She walked around the stairs to see. In the dirt under the stairs were scuffmarks made by someone trying to hide. Dirt was pushed this way and that and there was no particular pattern to the disturbance. Again, a cold shiver ran the length of her spine.
Looking up, Ailsa could see all the way to the top of the lighthouse through the rungs of the stairs. No one was hiding on them. The little bit of light that shone through the top along with the windows placed at various intervals along the length of the lighthouse were enough to brighten the stairs overhead. This enabled Ailsa to ascertain the non-existence of any human or other being. Looking back toward the door through which she’d just come in, light spilling in from the outside, Ailsa could see tiny dust particles drifting lazily through the shaft of light that entered. She again knelt down on her knees.
Reaching down, Ailsa put her fingers through the opening on the drain cover. Pulling upward, she attempted to remove the cover and look inside. The cover however, was heavier than she expected and had seated itself back in place when she had stepped on it that morning. Trying again, Ailsa pulled with all her might. The cover began to move. With a twinge of excitement and a renewed sense of vigor, Ailsa pulled harder. The cover moved again. Ailsa pulled once more and the cover slid up and out of place. Walking backwards as she pulled, Ailsa was able to pull the cover off to the side. Since it was round, there was no worry about it falling inside the drain itself. Ailsa continued to pull until the entire drain was exposed. Stopping to rest for a minute, she caught her breath. After a short respite, Ailsa got down on her knees and looked into the dark abyss.
Picking up a small rock, Ailsa dropped it into the chasm. Apparently, it wasn’t very deep since Ailsa heard it hit within a split second. Another two seconds later, she heard it hit again. Odd she thought. She dropped another. Again, it hit once, waited a couple of seconds and then hit again. There must be a ledge or something down there, she thought. Straining as hard as she could, Ailsa attempted to see the bottom of the shaft. She could barely make out what she thought was a floor, but it was hard to tell. I need something to light up this tunnel. Pondering her predicament, Ailsa suddenly remembered the extra candles that were stored in the lighthouse for emergencies. Climbing the stairs to the top of the lighthouse, Ailsa located the storage box the candles were in and pulled out three of them. Descending the stairs, Ailsa, somewhat winded, but nonetheless excited, reached the bottom and prepared to enter the drain.
Placing two candles into the pocket of her dress, Ailsa lit the third and waited until a good flame flickered on top. Carefully leaning over the edge, Ailsa put her arm down inside the tunnel allowing the light from the flickering flame to illuminate the shaft. Misshapen shadows danced along the walls like imprisoned butterflies and candlelight stretched and shrank as if pulled by some mysterious force from the dark. Ailsa could now clearly see the bottom of the drain. Approximately eight feet below the surface of the lighthouse floor was the ledge that the rock had hit when Ailsa had dropped it. To the right of that ledge was another dark chasm but Ailsa couldn’t see the bottom of it.
Curiosity tugged at Ailsa like some invisible hand from the pit below. Being inquisitive by nature, Ailsa couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass her up. Slipping her feet over the edge of the drain, Ailsa carefully placed the candle into her mouth in such a way that she would not be burned and would not light her hair on fire. Then, carefully turning over onto her stomach, she slowly lowered herself down into the hole. Once her arms were fully extended, it was a short drop and Ailsa landed on the ledge. The candle flickered furiously trying to break free of the wick that held it in place. Taking the candle from her mouth, Ailsa turned and faced the chasm. Directly across from her was a ladder firmly secured to the opposite wall. Leaning over the edge, Ailsa was able to see the bottom wherein another drain was present. The bottom of this shaft was another twenty-one feet below her with another tunnel approximately three feet above the floor that disappeared into darkness. Again, Ailsa grasped the candle with her teeth, leaned across the opening, grabbed the ladder and began to climb down. Reaching the last rung, Ailsa dropped her feet off the ladder and lowered herself hand over hand until she was hanging over the floor below.
Realizing the pain and damage she might inflict on herself should she drop the additional six feet or so to the floor below, Ailsa twisted her body sideways and placed her feet against one wall. Reaching behind her, she found the opposite wall and by letting go of the ladder with her right hand, she was able to push her back against this wall while still holding on with her left hand. Once positioned, Ailsa slowly let go of the ladder and began to shimmy down the tunnel walls a little at a time using her feet and back for leverage. Upon reaching the bottom, she dropped her feet to the floor and taking the candle out of her mouth, turned and peered down the side tunnel. The candlepower of the flickering flame was not enough to illuminate any space around her more than twenty feet or so, thus, Ailsa was unable to determine the length of this tunnel she was now facing. All she knew was that it disappeared into a dark, forbidding blackness ahead.
Carefully climbing up onto the three-foot high ledge, Ailsa prepared to enter the black void. Unconsciously looking up before she ventured forward, Ailsa could see light from the open door of the lighthouse spilling into the shaft through which she had just come. With a touch of apprehension and a load of curiosity, Ailsa began her trek into the tunnel. As she walked, Ailsa held her hand in front of the candle to prevent it from blowing out. The flame flickered and jumped, shrank and grew and sucked up oxygen as it illuminated Ailsa’s way into the unknown. She could smell the age in this enclosure, the smell of old stones, the scent of moist earth, the damp odor of stale water, the occasional whiff of something dead, a rat, a mouse or something else. Ailsa thought about where she was in conjunction with the ground overhead. It appeared, from the direction she was going, that she was headed back toward the castle. The possibility that this might connect to her home gave her a renewed feeling of excitement. Finding something new in a place she had lived for years was exhilarating. Where would it exit? What would it connect to? Did anyone else know about this? As she pondered these questions, the sudden realization of why she had come down here in the first place flooded her mind. The drain cover had been loose. Someone or something had loosened it. Were they here too? Did they walk this same path? If so, who was it? Human? Animal? Thing? Where was it now?
Walking for what seemed like hours, Ailsa began to wonder if she had made a wise choice. Perhaps this didn’t lead anywhere. Maybe it led to a trap of some kind. Maybe it was a maze and she’d never find her way out. She’d already climbed one set of stairs and now, she was facing another. Climbing to the top of this second set, Ailsa still could not see anything ahead except a dark void. As she walked, she found herself stepping around and sometimes through wet areas on the floor. The strong smell of decay would occasionally waft past her. Then, she heard something. She stopped, frozen in her tracks. She strained to hear the sound again. It was faint, distant, but audible. The flame continued to flicker creating ghostly shapes on the walls around her. Standing perfectly still for several minutes, Ailsa heard it again. It was like the distant clatter of metal or glass breaking. The sound was very minute, so small that it barely moved the membrane of her eardrum. Nevertheless, it was there. She could detect that it was ahead of her in the direction in which she was traveling. Peering ahead, she tried to make out any shape, any form that might be responsible for the strange sounds. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end and her skin was covered with gooseflesh. Determined not to give up and tugged forward by the pull of curiosity, Ailsa began to move.
Walking another 100 feet or so, Ailsa could finally see the end of the tunnel. When she stopped, she found herself facing a blank, cold, hard stone wall. Looking around with eyes that would be the envy of any detective, Ailsa noticed that the wall opened, but she wasn’t sure how. She could see scuff marks on the floor in an arc-like pattern indicating that this piece of wall moved toward her when it opened. Carefully, she examined the fours sides of the apparent door. A small crack surrounded the opening indicating that it was not solid. Then the sound again. This time louder, just ahead and behind the door. Because of the thickness of the door, the sound was muffled, but still perceptible. Ailsa’s curiosity was piqued. What was behind this door? Shivers of excitement raced through her body slowed only by the warning signs of caution and fear.
Ailsa reached up and slowly ran her fingers around the perimeter of the suspected opening. There was no latch or other mechanism that would allow her to open it. Looking to her left, she began to examine carefully the wall and stones. Pushing on stone after stone, Ailsa hoped to find something that would trigger the door to open. Everything she tried was solid. Stepping back to examine the whole picture, Ailsa’s eyes slowly perused and dissected every nook and cranny. Then she saw it.
On the left side of the door about two feet higher than she stood, an area of stone was covered with damp, mossy growth. Reaching up, Ailsa touched it softly. In so doing, she found that it was not resting against the solid face of another stone, but rather was covering a small opening between two stones. Reaching inside, unsure of what she would find, Ailsa’s fingers touched something soft and furry. Jerking her hand out, Ailsa jumped and gave a short, startled scream. Looking down at her hand, she saw nothing on it except moisture from the moss. Looking around her, she found a small twig on the floor. Ailsa reached back up and parted the moss with the twig fully inserting it into the hole. After disappearing only five to six inches, it hit a solid wall. Ailsa moved the stick around and around and then pulled it out. Fully expecting to find it covered with animal entrails and fur, Ailsa was surprised to find nothing. Reassuring herself with confidence and strength, she once again reached inside. Again, her hand touched something furry, but instead of jerking it out, she continued to push her hand in. She then realized that she was touching some kind of lever that had been covered with animal skin to alleviate the cold from the metal handle and to make pulling on it easy on the hand. Ailsa pulled. A subtle “click” resounded off the walls and the slow, deep rumble of stone grating across stone began to fill the tunnel. Quickly stepping backwards, Ailsa moved out of the path of the opening door.
As the inner edge of the door reached the outer edge of the stone wall where Ailsa stood, a bright light suddenly burst through the crack and poured into the tunnel. Ailsa squinted, shielding her eyes from the sudden intrusion on her eyes. Allowing herself a few seconds to adjust to the light, Ailsa’s first though was that this passage was opening to the outside. With a thump, the door came to rest against the right side of the tunnel. Slowly lowering her hand, Ailsa stood dumbfounded in front of some strange room. Walking forward slowly, Ailsa peeked inside the bright room. An array of machines and strange devices filled her eyes. She had never seen most of these items before. The glass tubes and chemistry-related items she’d seen a few times, but the other machines were foreign to her. Quickly scanning the room for another life form, whether human, animal or alien, Ailsa determined that no one was there. Entering, she noticed a pile of broken glass just inside the doorway and a metal rod of some type lying next to it. These were the source of the sounds she had heard from the tunnel. Ailsa’s sense of curiosity was clawing at her to be set free to explore this unknown territory. Caution dictated otherwise.
Moving slowly around the room, Ailsa could see no other way in or out. Only the tunnel through which she’d come. She wondered to herself when and how someone had brought all this equipment down the tunnel and how long it had taken. She also wondered why. Stepping around crates, containers and strange rope-like lines that snaked around the floor and terminated at the bright miniature suns held on metal poles, Ailsa’s mind raced with questions of wonder and intrigue. Ailsa examined everything. Strange colored fluids ran through mazes of glassware, fire flickered underneath containers of boiling liquid, strange devices hummed and colorful lights blinked and changed on screens made of materials Ailsa had never seen before. Some machines were warm to the touch, others ice-cold. Rows of books and folders lined a bookcase and other notes had been scribbled onto paper unlike any Ailsa had seen before. Strange writing instruments also lay scattered on the bench where the notes were found. While Ailsa was trying to comprehend all that she was seeing, a bright pinpoint of light began to emerge out of nothing in the corner by the tunnel. Ailsa’s heart stopped. Fear coursed through her veins at the possibility of being caught and perhaps killed. Looking around the room like a terrified cat, Ailsa noticed some crates piled close by the tunnel where she’d come in. Running toward them as the light in the corner grew, Ailsa was able to get behind them before a large seven-foot bubble came into view. Ailsa watched through the gap between two crates as the bubble changed colors and then a man suddenly appeared out of thin air. The bubble quickly disappeared and the man stood frozen staring at the open door. Pulling a strange device from his pocket, he slowly walked to the door and peered down the tunnel. Pushing a button, the tunnel illuminated with brilliance equal to hundreds of Ailsa’s candles. The man then quickly turned around slowly scanning the room. Making a quick circuit of the perimeter, he arrived back at his starting point and then disappeared into the tunnel for a few seconds. Upon returning, he locked his eyes on the stack of crates behind which Ailsa was hiding. Fearing she’d been spotted, Ailsa’s body broke out in a cold sweat. The man began walking toward her. Ailsa knew she’d be found.
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