The Return of Fursey by Mervyn Wall

Author:Mervyn Wall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2017-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VI

Notwithstanding Cuthbert’s apparent enthusiasm on the night of Fursey’s arrival, he manifested no inclination on the morrow to commence the instruction of his apprentice in the sinuous mysteries of witchcraft. A great lethargy possessed him, and during the ensuing weeks he lazed about the cave, sometimes drinking moodily, at other times sitting for long hours with a twisted smile on his face as if his mind was busy with curious and serpentine designs. He roused himself from time to time to deal with customers, besotted peasants who came with offerings of rough wooden bowls or ill-made pottery, requesting him to cure warts or whooping cough. Except for these folk cures he did no magic; and Fursey, secretly glad of the respite, performed the menial tasks of the cave, drew water from a nearby brook and brought in sticks and gorse to burn, for it was already winter. The only other duty laid upon him was the collection of herbs and venomous plants, which he soon learnt to identify. Besides their use in the making of drugs and medicines, Cuthbert spoke constantly of the necessity for building up a large stock of magical armament in keeping with his position as a major sorcerer. Fursey was a docile and assiduous servant, and came back from each excursion bowed beneath a load of poisonous fungi, foxgloves, hemlock or the dreaded deadly nightshade. He even went beyond his instructions and brought in plants that looked to him tolerably venomous. Some of these Cuthbert discarded, other he put aside to try by way of experiment on the next peasant who should call seeking his assistance. Fursey was kept busy. Some herbs had to be gathered at certain phases of the moon, and he spent a week hunting for a stone which it was indispensable to find in a peewit’s nest. A brisk trade developed with the other warlocks scattered throughout the hills. On Cuthbert’s instructions, Fursey carried loads of dogwood, hawkweed and henbane to their caverns and bargained with them for elf-shots, murderers’ knucklebones and the fingers of unbaptised babes. Cuthbert spoke vaguely of making magic brews and performing ritual but his lassitude was such that he never made a start.

At first Fursey was nigh overcome by the demoniacal character of his surroundings. The weather was of a very irregular character. Patches of druidical fog floated against the wind, and the neighbourhood was subject to sudden storms and hail. One heard strange voices on the breeze, and at times the air would be filled with a kind of twittering or chirping, which Fursey knew to be the voices of spirits. It was not unusual to meet some initiate toiling up the track with a load of assorted stones collected from four parishes, or to see a wizard coursing back and forward on the hillside in the form of a greyhound. The night was often hideous with tumults and strange bawlings, and from the mouth of the cave wandering fires were visible. At first Fursey

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