Varney the Vampyre 139A Scene in Winchester Cathedral.—the Cathedral Robbers.—a Storm.—the Vaults Beneath the Aisle.—the Flight of the Robbers, and the Resuscitated Corpse
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 139
A Scene in Winchester Cathedral.—the Cathedral Robbers.—a Storm.—the Vaults Beneath the Aisle.—the Flight of the Robbers, and the Resuscitated Corpse
RymerEnglish
The sun had long deserted the horizon, and the good city of Winchester had been buried in darkness many hours; while the moon, though high in her course, was obscured by the hazy clouds that drifted from the south-west. The gusty winds whistled round the walls of the cathedral church, producing an unpleasant sensation, with a foreboding of a coming storm.
The inhabitants of the quiet, orderly town, were steeped in repose, and a stranger who might by chance have wandered at such an untoward hour abroad, would not have found one single ray from any window; save, perhaps, at one or two hotels, which merely keep open till the London mail passed through, lest any passengers should make their stay at Winchester.
Save at these places, all were reposing peaceably in their beds; and the tower of the cathedral frowned majestically upon the tombstones below, and upon the surrounding buildings, which appeared to peep upon the limits of the grave-yard; while the fir trees that were yet standing bent beneath the blast, as it swept across the low walls, by which the cathedral on one side is bounded.
But the solitary churchyard was not without its occupants, living or dead; for its sanctity is invaded by the presence of three men, who emerge from the narrow streets and courts situated between it and the cross, and then crossing beneath the shade of some object, they stood beneath the low wall which surrounded the churchyard.
They paused for several moments, and gazed around them in every direction, and up at the houses that were nearest to them; but there was no sign of light or anything stirring in any of the houses adjacent.
“I think all is right to-night,” said one of the men to his companions.
“Ay, right enough; there will be nobody near us to-night.”
“No,” replied a third; “and if the signs of the weather are good for anything, why, we shall have a rough night; and though that is unpleasant, yet it makes interruptions less likely, and success more certain.”
“You are right, Josh; we shall have a good job this time.”
“There, then, that will do until we are safe; it’s no use talking here; if the old watchman comes round, we may have to book it, and then we may not have a chance.”
“Ha, ha, ha! as for the old watchman, he is not the fool you take him to be, if you imagine him at all likely to disturb himself on such a night as this; he’ll sleep in his box till he wakes and finds it is fine.”
“Well, be that as it may,” said the other, impatiently, “it is all right now.”
“Yes, all right.”
“Then just help me over, and I’ll get down on the other side, while one of you can get up on the wall and hand the tools down to me.”
“Can’t you throw them over?”
“I could, but it is not worth while to make any noise, even though we felt sure that it will not be heard. There have been most strange things done in our time, you know, and there is no telling what may happen.”
“Ah, the dead may come to life, Josh.”
“So they might; and a pig might fly, but, as they say, it is a very unlikely bird.”
“Well, then, up with you.”
As he spoke, one of the men gave one of his companions a lift up, and with this aid he got on the wall, and then quietly slipping down into the burial-ground, he awaited his companions, one of whom immediately mounted the wall in the same manner, and who received a bag, which he handed down to his comrade, who was in the graveyard belonging to the cathedral.
“Well, is all right?” he said.
“Yes, all right; don’t stay up there like a cat on a wall; come down, or you may by chance be seen.”
The other two men immediately came over the wall, and they all three collected round a monument that stood up, and here a short consultation took place.
“Now, how shall we proceed?”
“We must get into the vaults somehow or other, if we dig our way in, which I think is much the most easily done.”
“What! undermine the building?”
“Scarcely so much as that.”
“Well, but we can get into the body of the cathedral, and then into the vaults that way. There is a door.”
“Yes, there is a door, but it is so close to the verger’s door, that you are sure to awake him.”
“I have opened more than one door in my time, and yet I never awoke anybody in doing so; he must sleep wonderfully light.”
“Ay, so he may; but in this case the door is so strong that there is no chance of breaking it open, without great inconvenience and noise; there is no room to work in, and, moreover, the verger keeps a little cur always sleeping on the mat close to his door, so that no one can approach without his giving alarm.”
“What a brute!”
“Yes; but there is a means of entering besides that.”
“Where—and how?”
“In the back of the cathedral there is a large marble slab, on which is carved some letters, that I never could make out; but I’m told it says that somebody lies buried underneath that stone, but I know immediately below are the vaults.”
“Well, but the marble you speak of would weigh fourteen or fifteen hundred weight, which would be no joke.”
“No, by Jove,” said his companion; “we had better by far dig our way in, since we shall have so much difficulty in getting in; we can soon dig out soil enough to let us get down into the vaults.”
“Well, we had better set to work at once, lest we lose all chance. If we have a long job, we had better set to work early, as well as stop here, for if we are surprised we shall have to run.”
“And the yard will be watched ever afterwards, as sure as we shall have a storm presently.”
“So we shall. Work away, Josh; where are the tools?”
“Here they are,” said the man, throwing the bag down and opening it; and then he pulled out some tools, consisting of pickaxe and shovels, and a crowbar or two, and several other little materials, which were useful upon such occasions.
“Well, now, where shall we commence?”
“Just at the side here; we are safe to get in somewhere where the wall is weakest, for I believe the vaults are all walled in.”
“They must be, to have a secure foundation for such a weight as there must be about it; and, to my mind, we have got a decent job. It’s very much like a fortress, and if it was easy to get in this way, we should hear of such things being done much oftener than they are, that is my opinion.”
“And a very good opinion it is, too, until another is heard; but it is no use being faint-hearted; the harder the job, the harder we ought to set at it, that’s all; but there are some few things not thought of by others, you know, and it is sometimes the hardest thing in the world to think of the most simple.”
“There’s some truth in that.”
The men having found the spot they most desired, they set about digging and picking it up in good earnest; but it was difficult work, and the soil about the cathedral was very hard, owing to the quantity of rubbish that had been driven or trodden into the earth for centuries, either through accident or design, to harden and secure the permanency of the work around. There were many heavy and large stones, as well as small broken stones; also, flint in no small quantity, that every now and then resisted the blows of the pick.
“Well, I’m thinking we have all three worked half an hour, and have not got a foot deep yet.”
“We have not got much deeper, certainly.”
“Do you think we shall get in to-night?”
“To-night or never,” said the third man.
“You are right, comrade; shoulder your picks and then we shall see what way we can make in another half hour. Who can tell? we may come to a softer soil below; this is only the filling up.”
The men again set to work heartily, but they seemed to have no success—they could not make anything of it; it appeared to resist all their efforts; and the sparks often flew from the blows they made with their tools.
The perspiration ran down their faces, and as they paused to wipe their foreheads, they gazed upwards at the clouds. It was heavy, and the wind was blowing fresh, and now and then a heavy spot of rain.
“By St. Peter,” said one of them, “I expect we shall have a storm presently. I already feel the heavy drops that fall occasionally; and if one may judge by them of what we may expect, we shall have it heavily.”
“So much the better; we shall have less interruption.”
“Well, I don’t know what you call interruption, but this is a complete stopper; I can’t make any impression with the pick, it is as hard as rock; and then comes some of those old walls that are rather harder than granite—you may as well pick at a cart-load of pig iron.”
As this was said, the clouds suddenly appeared to open, and such a deluge of rain descended, that the earth seemed to smoke. The drops appeared to be continuous small spouts of water—a shower is too mild a word—it was a deluging, as if some waterspout had burst.
The men stood a moment or two, but it was useless to work; they could not do it, and they rushed to a part of the wall which sheltered them from the fury of the storm that was raging.
“Well, I never saw anything like this before.”
“Nor I. Hark at the thunder! There’s a flash! Who would have expected that at this season of the year?”
“Not I.”
“Nor any one else; but it seems to me as if we were to be defeated to-night. I am sorry we made the attempt, since we are sure to find the yard watched after this, for they will see what we have been up to.”
“Yes, it is vexing, but we cannot help this; it is quite impossible to do anything in such weather as this. I do not care about a wet jacket, but I cannot see, and hardly breathe, with so much falling water about me.”
“Nor I; but yet I am loth to give it up; consider the jewellery and money he had about him—it will pay us handsomely.”
“Well, it was a strange start of him, at all events. I wonder how he came to be buried in such a manner—how was it?”
“I don’t know. All I know is, that the thing was kept secret because it was considered that it would be a temptation to disturb any grave when it was known that he was buried in his clothes and jewellery, and that his money was buried also with him. It was certainly a temptation I could not resist.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes; I will tell you, another time, how I came to know all about it; indeed, I saw him screwed down, and the consequence is, I know that he has the money and valuables about him.”
“Then I am sure we had better get into the church itself; we can do more with your slab of marble than on the outside of the wall. And besides that, I do not think that this rain will give over; the hole we have already made is fast filling up with water, and we shall find it impossible to work.”
“So we shall. What do you say to getting inside the cathedral?”
“Agreed, my lads; as quickly as you like; for, if we stay here much longer, we shall certainly be drowned. I’m wet through as it is.”
“So am I; but never mind, my boys, bright gold and jewels will warm your hearts, and that will keep your outsides dry, or at least you will not feel it. I am sure that I should not if I can but get it.”
“Ay, that is all I care about; but, if you get foiled, you may depend upon it you don’t feel any the better—you are rather worse, and feel everything more; but what do you say to yon window?”
“That will do if we can reach it; that is my only difficulty.”
“That is one that is easily overcome,” said his companion, “for I know where the ladder is, and that is just over our heads; all you have to do is to put the point of the crow-bar under the staple to which the chain is fastened that secures it, and then you have the means at once of entering.”
“But if we get in and are detected, how shall we get out again?”
“Are we not three to one? If the old verger should come, I think we could make a dead body of him in a very short while; and I cannot tell where you will be if you can’t get the better of the old man.”
“Well, say no more about it; up with the ladder, and we will get in and chance it. Such a night as this, it would be strange, indeed, if anybody heard us; but, as there is much to be got, why, we can’t grumble at the risk.”
The three men set to work about wrenching the staple out to which was attached a chain which secured the ladder. That was soon effected, and the ladder placed against one of the lowermost windows, and then one of the men went up, and forcing the window open said, after he had looked in,—
“All right—come up. We have got to a right place.”
They all three came up one after another, when the first up crept in at the open aperture, and by means of ornamental work, and a monument that there projected from the wall in a manner that enabled them to descend with ease, and in a few moments more the whole three stood in the old cathedral of Winchester.
At that moment the bell tolled heavily the hour of twelve. The sound was solemn, and it made a deep impression upon the robbers.
“What a dismal, hollow sound that has, to be sure,” said one.
“Yea; it sounded like tolling.”
“Pshaw!” said one of them; “’tis no matter—if it be tolling, it is not for us, nor for the man we come to visit, so no more old women’s fears; if you don’t like stopping in this place, you had better set to work and be quick, when we shall have no further need of staying. Of what use is it for you to stare and gape about with white faces, and swelled eyeballs, like so many cats; be men—be active, and use your arms.”
“Well, where are we to use them? What are we to do? You brought us here, and yet you do not tell us what we are to do. You know all about this matter, and you cannot, or do not point out where we are to commence.”
“Here, then; on the very stone you are standing; set to work to raise this, and then we shall soon find our way into the vaults below, and we shall then satisfy ourselves for our trouble, and be well paid too, I hope.”
“I hope so, too, Josh; for, to tell you the truth, I don’t ever recollect so uncomfortable a job as that which I am in to-night.”
“Well, you ain’t got paid all, I’ll warrant.”
“I haven’t got paid at all, yet; but we waste time; lend me a pick. I don’t see how I am to get a tool in here. The chinks are all so small, that you can hardly put in the blade of a penknife.”
“There is a hole somewhere near the head. There is a small piece of black marble.”
“Yes; here it is.”
“Well, chip that out, and then you may insert a crow-bar, or pick, beneath the stone, when you will find that it will lift up, and then, by main strength, lift it back, and we may go down.”
These instructions were followed out. The black marble was discovered, and then knocked out, when a large crevice was discovered, into which a powerful crow-bar was immediately thrust; and then, by one united effort, they contrived to lift the marble slab up out of its place, though not above a foot, which required a great effort, when it is considered that it was imbedded in cement.
“Well, we shall be able to get it up now, I think.”
“Don’t be too sure, for we have not got it far—it is enormously heavy, and the lever has done all as yet.”
“Well, then, are you all ready? A long pull, you know, comrades, and a strong pull, does the business. Now, then, altogether.”
“Heave, ho!” whispered another, and they all three made a prodigious effort. It was not only a strong pull, but a very long pull, for the stone was so heavy, it came slowly and unwillingly upwards, and it was nearly three minutes before the enormous mass stood upright in the aisle.
“Well, I didn’t think it would have been done. That’s the hardest job that ever I had a hand in, and don’t desire to have such another, but yet, hard as it is, it is easier than what we had to do outside.”
“Yes, much, and you will soon find it is so. Lend a hand to clear away the rubbish that lies here; there’s a trap-door underneath that leads into the vaults; it belonged to the monks of old, of whom it is said it served either for the same purpose of burial, or for a cellar for wine.”
“Well, well, there are some things better than wine, I trow, in the cellar, now, if we can find the coffin; there has been no other burial in the vaults since he was buried, so we shall not have much trouble.”
“But what are we to do with the stone? If we let it down again, we shall do some mischief.”
“We must turn it corner by corner until we get it against the pillars, and there leave it; for if we let it down, it will go down like the report of a gun, and smash all that comes in the way.”
This was agreed to, and it was not long before they propped the heavy mass of stone against one of the pillars, and then returned to the place whence it had been raised, and began to clear away the rubbish, when a trap-door was plainly observable; and after much labour and force, they contrived to open the door, when there appeared a dark aperture, into which they could not look without some misgivings, for nothing could be seen.
“Well, who’s to go down?”
This was a question that no one liked to answer. And certainly no one would volunteer to go below. It was too dark to be inviting, and the men looked at one another as well as they could, for it was total darkness, or nearly so, in the aisle; and below, it was so utterly dark, that it was impossible to make out anything.
“What is to be done now? Have you got the lantern?”
“I have, and matches, but did not think we ought to use them before, lest we attract attention; however, we will have a light now, and should anybody look down, they will think there is a general meeting among the dead.”
So saying, he lit the lantern, which threw a light into the vault, and rendered visible a flight of steps that ran up to the opening, but which were invisible in the darkness that had reigned in the place.
“Now, then, jump down, and see where the last coffin is placed; it is easily known from all the others, for I don’t think there has been a burial here for many months—the old cathedral is not often disturbed for the reception of the dead, and only when some rich man dies and fancies he may lie more comfortable here.”
“Ay, rich men can afford to be buried in a good suit of clothes, and money in their pocket, to bribe St. Peter to open the gate.”
“Ha! ha! ha! well said; Peter has the keys.”
“Yes, and here we have the coffin.”
“Have we? Is this it?”
“Yes; don’t you see that it has all the signs of newness about it? There is hardly any dust collected upon it; here we shall find our treasure; the coffin is a strong one, and will, I think, take some trouble to break open.”
“Indeed! We shall be choked with the horrible stench which we have below. I can’t stand it another minute—I shall be sick.”
“Ay, and I too.”
“Here, then, I have the lantern. Lay hold of the coffin and bring it up stairs; we can carry it amongst us.”
“Ay, anything but remain here—that I cannot do.”
“Be quick, for confound me, but such a mass of putrid flesh as there must be here, is horribly sickly. I would sooner be hanged than pass an hour here.”
“I’m not so afraid of death as all that. I could manage to live through a night.”
“You might, but you would soon find out the ill effects, and die of some fever or other; and that is what we shall have, if we remain here much longer.”
The three men then shifted the coffin from its place, and then on to their shoulders, one at either end, and one under the centre.
The coffin was heavy—very heavy, and the men were tottering under their burden. They were strong men, but hardly equal to the task of carrying so dead a weight; but yet they never shrank from it, but, with slow and unsteady steps, they gradually neared the stairs that led upwards. They paused. If it was a task before, it was worse now. What more exertion could they make?
“Do you think the steps will hold us?” said one.
“I’m sure I cannot say; and perhaps not.”
“I think they are rotten, or partially so; what do you say? How shall we get the body up?”
“There is a rope, is there not?”
“Yes.”
“That will do then. I will get that; by its means we may hoist the coffin up to the stone pavement above. I’m almost sick.”
“And I too. This place is enough to breed a pestilence in a town.”
The smell in the vaults was certainly very strong and very pernicious. The fœtid odour that rose from the vaults was especially disagreeable; the smell that comes from the accumulated and putrefying remains of human bodies, is of all odours the most noisome, and, to our tastes, the worst.
Right glad were the men, who had propped the coffin up against the ladder, to get up into the aisle above, to breathe a less impure atmosphere. They gasped again; and one of them climbed up the monument, to get to the open window, at which they had entered, to inhale some of the pure moistened air; and then, after a few inspirations, he returned, at the call of his comrades to aid them.
The rope was procured and secured round the coffin, and one man remained below to guide it, while the two others remained above to haul up the rope, which would bring the body, coffin and all, to the top.
“Well, Josh, how goes the storm?”
“It is blowing over, I think; it does not rain, and it is breaking. I shouldn’t wonder if we don’t have moonlight after all, and, if we should, we shall have a trouble to get away unperceived.”
“You forget what hour it is.”
“Hark! there are the chimes.”
The four quarters now chimed from the great clock, and sounded solemnly and mournfully in the dead of the night. The iron tongue struck one, and the last sounds of the clock died away before any of the men moved or spoke.
“Well, we have been here an hour, and nearly two hours since our first commencement. It’s nearly time, I’m thinking.”
“Yes; haul tight at the rope—push up at the bottom there. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” said the man below.
“Heave ho!” called out the leader of the gang, in a low voice.
The two men at the top hauled at the rope, while he below pushed the coffin up with all his strength, and after a time they succeeded in causing it to rise about a foot, or something less, at each haul, and as it got higher, the man below could the better apply his strength to it, and at length it came up to the top.
Here, however, they experienced another difficulty. It was hard to pull up so high as to enable them to throw its weight on the pavement, and the rope was almost useless as a means of pulling it up higher, and the only one who had it in his power effectually to apply his strength, was the man below. However, after a while, to their great relief, the coffin lay fairly upon the stone pavement.
“A good job done!”
“So say I, Josh; and such another would completely finish me for the night. I might lie down and defy the world.”
“How about the coffin—there is no time to rest. I have a small flask of rum in my pocket, which we will discuss as soon as we have broken open the coffin, which I expect is the last hard job we shall have.”
“And a hard job it would have been, had I not come provided with a screwdriver—one that is used by undertakers in such work.”
“Set to work—good luck to you. I am quite dry, and quite tired too, and the sooner this is over the better. There, the screws come out easily enough, though they are long and hold firm.”
“Yes, they go deep; but they have a wide worm, that carries them down or brings them up so quickly.”
In a few minutes more the whole of the screws were drawn, and the lid of the coffin was thrown on one side, and the corpse was at once discovered to them. It lay calm and quiet; but yet it was terrible to look at. The living man had been tall—remarkably tall, as well as remarkable-looking.
He was dressed as if for walking. It was strange, the corpse was apparelled as if were in life; and this, perhaps, caused the extreme paleness—even extreme for a corpse—to be so apparent that they spoke not, but gazed in silence upon it, until at length one of them said,—
“Put out the light. We have the moon’s rays—at least there is enough to enable us to see what we want, and the light is dangerous.”
The light was put out, and the subdued light of the moon rendered all apparent enough to the robbers.
The storm had lulled and altogether ceased, while they had been busy in the vaults and getting up the body, and now it was a perfect calm. The moon, though obscured at the moment, promised to shed her rays upon the earth; and as it was at the full, and the clouds clearing off, the probability was that the town would become as light as day.
“There he is,” said one of the men.
“Yes; and about as ugly a chap as ever I saw.”
“He is no beauty; but he’s been a fine man.”
“If you mean tall, I dare say you are right; but he’s not fine as I take it. He’s not quite full enough about the chest and shoulders.”
“He’s got some fine rings, and a gold watch and chain. Well, there is a good ten or fifteen pounds each, and if his pockets are well lined, why, he will afford us a tolerable good booty.”
“Yes; we must not complain. Shall we replace all?”
“It is not possible to do so, either in time to enable us to escape, or to do it so as to escape detection. Besides, there would be no use in it. See how bright the moon is getting. We shall have as much to do as we shall get through to escape being seen. I am sure we shall run a great risk.”
“I think so too.”
“Well, then, commence proceedings. Ha!”
The moonbeams had fallen upon the corpse just as he was speaking, and he thought he observed a motion in the body.
“What is the matter, Josh?”
“Didn’t you think he moved.”
“Ha! ha! ha! dead! ha! ha! ha! dead moved—buried moved—ha! ha! ha! Eh? why—oh—it’s all fancy; you’ll see me believe it, presently. I do declare—well, a man dead and buried—I suppose a week.”
“No.”
“I think so——”
“Well, it does not matter much how long he has been buried; but he can’t move unless you move him. D——n!”
As he spoke he started to his feet, and his hair began to straighten, and his limbs quiver, and yet he appeared to think he might be mistaken; for he endeavoured to speak to his companions; pointing to the corpse, he contrived to say,
“I—’l—’l take the j—j—jewels; he—he—he moves.”
“Eh? Well, I told you I thought so, but you said no, and only laughed at me for doing so; but stand on one side, and let the moonlight come upon him, we can tell better then if he really does move; though, notwithstanding all I saw, I am inclined to believe it is quite an impossibility; but the more light we have the better we shall be able to tell how the mistake arose.”
“I thought I saw his eyes move.”
As he spoke he moved on the side, as he had been standing between the corpse and the moon’s rays, and for the most part intercepted them; but the moment that he did move away, and the rays came full upon the corpse, a shivering motion appeared to pervade it, to the intense horror of the robbers, who could not believe what they saw, but believed they were yet mistaken, though they were too much terrified to speak or even move. They stood gazing upon the body with bursting eyes and gaping mouth, as if they had suddenly become spell-bound by the wand of some magician.
Presently the corpse opened his eyes and glared full at them. Oh, such glistening, lead-like orbs, that froze the very current of their blood; they knew not what to think, but when the body turned on one side, towards the moon’s rays, all doubt vanished and the spell was broken.
“The devil, by —!” exclaimed Josh.
Not another word was uttered by either of the other two; but they sprang like emancipated madmen up the slippery sides of the monument, and out at the windows, as easily as a fly can run up a wall. It did not occupy more than a few seconds to enable them to clear the place. Half a minute had not elapsed before they stood shivering by the beautiful old cross, at Winchester.
The corpse in the cathedral, which mysteriously became animated when exposed to the moonlight, turned towards the moon’s rays and gazed upon the flying and terrified robbers, who had just exhumed him.
No word passed his lips, and he looked around him for some time in silence, upon the scene before him.
The moon came in at the tall windows of the cathedral, throwing long streams of silvery light upon the stone flooring, and upon some of the monuments that were erected by the pillars, or columns that rise to the roof.
All was silent, all was still—no movement was discernible, save in the form that now sat up, and leaned on his elbow in his coffin; and he but turned his head slowly from side to side, as though he were meditating upon the lovely and solemn beauty of the place.
At length he arose, but he appeared to move with extreme difficulty, and once or twice he placed his hand in the region of the heart, as if he felt something there that pained him, and tottered about; but seemed to recover himself a little after a time, and muttered to himself, in low but distinct tones,—
“I must have been another victim; I am weak, the vital action is languid, and my veins are empty; I must satisfy the instinct of my nature, and another victim must restore me to life and the world for a season.”
He looked up towards the window, gave one look around him and on the coffin, while a shudder passed though him; and then, gazing on himself and feeling for his valuables, he slowly clambered up the monument, and carefully got through the window, and thence into the open air, and he finally disappeared from Winchester churchyard.
