Dark Waters by Robin Blake

Author:Robin Blake
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter Sixteen

SO WE SMOKED, and Fidelis narrated. He had arrived at the outer gate of Hoghton Tower, still without knowing the name of the stricken person he was summoned to attend. Ralph Randall, when he came out to admit him, was silent on the subject. With the horse entrusted to a groom, the steward conducted Fidelis across the outer court, through the second gate and into the inner court, which they crossed to the door of the tower itself. He again asked Randall the name of his patient, but received no reply, except to be urged to quicken his step.

Passing through the hall, Randall led the way up the stair and along a corridor, well windowed with leaded panes on one side and panelled in oak on the other. He opened the door at the end, stood aside, and gestured Fidelis to pass through. He then shut the door, without following the doctor inside.

Sir Henry Hoghton was lying beneath the covers of the great canopied bed, wearing a nightcap and gown. But far from enjoying a peaceful rest, he was writhing in agony, groaning and continually licking his lips. At sixty years old, he had a face with a purple-tinged complexion, and a certain pop to the eyes that gave him an air of permanent grievance. On this occasion, at least, there was an easily seen reason for the grievance. His nose was swollen and his lower lip was split.

There was no one else in the room, so Fidelis presented himself at the bedside and asked Hoghton how he was.

Sir Henry muttered something inaudible and when Fidelis asked again, the stricken man impatiently roared, ‘See for yourself, and damn your eyes!’

He threw back the sheet and blanket. Through the linen of his gown Fidelis could see the full extent of the problem: the parliamentary candidate’s membrum virilis stood in a condition of gigantic and pulsating erection.

‘The bugger won’t go soft,’ stuttered Hoghton. ‘Been like that for twelve hours! It’s got harder if anything. And it burns, man; it burns like some damnable fire’s got into it. I can’t piss. I can’t do anything, not with my tool like that. It’s intolerable. It’s hell. It doesn’t feel like mine any more. You must do something.’

Fidelis raised the nightgown to examine the engorged member. Gingerly poking it, he asked if this had ever happened before.

‘Course it hasn’t. Always been perfectly normal in every way. Never a cause for complaint.’

Fidelis observed that there must therefore have been something different, some new influence, in this instance. Had he been stung by an insect or plant, eaten or drunk anything unusual, or done some other activity immediately before it happened – dancing, riding, bathing – or boxing, perhaps?

‘Boxing?’ Hoghton roared. ‘Don’t be bloody absurd. And I wasn’t playing ring-a-roses either. Use your wits, if you have any. What do you think I was doing?’

‘You were … with a lady, then?’

At which Hoghton writhed around again and, without answering, demanded again that the doctor do something.

‘So what did you do?’ I asked my friend, between laughter and suspense.

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