Maddy didn’t have the energy to explain, so she just smiled at her friends as they picked up their bags and walked out through the front door. They kissed and hugged while the taxi driver put their luggage into the boot. Ben and Madison stood on the front steps, waving until the car was out of sight.
She felt a mixture of relief and loneliness. It was lovely to have the place back to themselves, but her friends had livened the place up and now it all felt a bit empty.
The house was more or less tidy again. The damage minimal - a few broken panes of glass, some stains on the carpets, a broken coffee table, the kitchen TV had been nicked and the front lawn was wrecked. But Maddy thought they’d got off lightly. Tomorrow she’d get the windows and orangery fixed, but tonight she just wanted to curl up on the sofa and watch some rubbishy movie on the TV.
Ben wasn’t saying a lot today. He’d puked this morning and had sworn he’d never again let alcohol pass his lips. Maddy had said she was never going to let alcohol pass his lips again either.
‘You’re twelve years old, Ben. What did you think you were doing, drinking alcohol?’
‘You’re under age too,’ Ben huffed.
‘Yeah you’re right, mate. Let’s make a pact. No more getting wasted, okay?’
He scowled.
‘Oh dear, someone’s hung over,’ Maddy said, pretending to throw up.
‘Shut up, Maddy,’ he said, trying to be annoyed with her, but laughing at the same time.
‘And they called him ‘Puke Boy’!’
‘Maddy, shut up.’
*
If Esther and Morris thought anything about Madison’s party, or the state of the place, they kept it to themselves, for which Maddy was grateful. She’d never liked explaining herself and was relieved she didn’t have to actually have any of the conversations she’d practiced in her head.
Travis paid her a visit on the Thursday after the party and they wandered across to the deer park together. Maddy got the feeling Travis had a bit of a crush on her.
‘Your parents still away then?’
She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to tell him she had no parents. That it was just her and Ben living in the house.
‘Mmm,’ she answered. ‘Did you have a good time on Saturday?’
‘Definitely. Everyone’s talking about it.’
‘Well, it was your tunes that got the place going.’
‘I was alright wasn’t I?’
‘Yeah and modest too.’
‘No. I just meant ...’ He blushed.
‘Relax, I’m taking the Michael.’
‘It’s just, I mean, I haven’t played in front of a crowd before and I’m glad I didn’t corpse or anything. I didn’t see much of you though.’
‘Yeah well, I was too busy being the hostess with the mostess wasn’t I,’ she lied. Too busy freaking out, more like.
‘If you want to make it a regular thing, I could DJ for you any time.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Thought about it – answer’s no.
Travis stayed for supper and then played a few games of pool with her and Ben. When it got to ten o’clock, with Travis showing no signs of leaving, Maddy stretched and yawned.
‘Right then. I’m gonna go to bed now, so ...’ She felt mean, kicking him out, but she could do without any complications in her life right now. She was still adjusting to everything and although Travis seemed like a sweet guy, she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
‘Cool, cool,’ he said. ‘Cheers for the food. I’ll come and see you again. Maybe we could go out sometime?’
‘Yeah, that would be nice. It’s good to have made a friend already.’
‘A friend, yeah.’
She stepped outside with him. He hopped up into his yellow transit and waved.
‘Travis, wait!’ Maddy called out to him over the rumbling engine, before he drove away. ‘Are you around tomorrow?’
Travis gave her a big smile. ‘I can be.’
‘I’ve just had an idea. But I need your help. It might take all day if that’s okay?’
‘Shall I come round about nine?’
‘Ten?’
‘Ten’s cool. See you tomorrow, Maddy.’
‘See you tomorrow, Travis.’ Maddy hugged herself in excitement. She’d just had a brilliant brainwave and didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.
Chapter Ten
1881
*
Havva Sahin stared at Alexandre and chuckled, a wheezing sound that broke down into a wracking cough.
‘Are you alright, Great Grandmother?’ Asil Rais asked.
She managed to stop coughing and carried on speaking to Alexandre, ignoring her great grandson’s concern.
‘You are not merely passing through our village.’ She smiled at him in a most unnerving manner, gazing into his eyes as if challenging him to disagree. It felt to Alexandre as though she could see through to the very essence of him. Finally she spoke again.
‘Aah, you are a good man. But alas you are mistaken in your beliefs, or should I say your non-beliefs. Ha!’ She broke down into more wheezing laughter at this last statement.
Alexandre looked back at the woman, at her clear, bright eyes, not rheumy and clouded like an old person’s. Could this well-to-do great grandmother be the old woman in the village they were searching for? He had expected to find a wizened old crone in a stone shack. Had they stumbled across the right person so quickly? What luck if they had.
She seemed to know why he had come and it amused her. Maybe word had already reached her of the archaeologists and their discoveries. He looked sideways at Isik and the guard shrugged.
‘Great Grandmother?’ Asil Rais asked with worry in his voice. Everybody looked from her to Alexandre, with puzzlement. ‘Are you well? Do you know this man? Do you know Monsieur Chevalier?’ She batted away his questions with her wrinkled hand. He turned to Alexandre. ‘Does she know you?’ he asked sharply.
‘Why is Great Grandmother laughing like that?’ asked Aysun. ‘Did she make a joke?’
‘Hush, Aysun,’ her mother chided.
Alexandre started to feel uncomfortable. These people were now looking at him with suspicion.
‘I repeat,’ said Asil Rais to Alexandre. ‘Do you know my Great Grandmother?’
‘No, Sir. We have never met before.’
‘Then I must apologise to you. She must be unwell. Would you like to rest, Great Grandmother?’ He turned to his eldest daughter. ‘Take her to her room, Ayla.’
Havva Sahin stopped laughing abruptly and looked again at Alexandre. She spoke to him in a chilling tone.
‘I will warn you once again. Do not ask me your questions, for it will be your greatest misfortune that I will answer every one of them.’
‘Grandmother? Grandmother, what are you speaking about?’ Asil Rais looked more and more alarmed. ‘Are you ill?’
‘I am perfectly fine,’ the old lady snapped at him. She appeared to have shaken herself out of her trance-like state and had stopped staring at Alexandre. Instead, she had transferred her gaze to the large plate of mezze on the table. ‘Let us eat, I am hungry.’
*
Alexandre was unable to believe his good fortune. Havva Sahin knew the ancient legends as if she had lived them herself.
‘It is an old tale. Passed down through generation after generation as a warning not to undo what has been done.’
Her eyes glazed and she smiled as if remembering something good.
‘There was a glorious time in our ancient history where peace reigned for centuries. Our people lived in harmony. All beliefs were tolerated, embraced even, and our culture flourished and bloomed. Art, science, philosophy … we could revel in these pursuits for there were no invaders and no warfare. We accepted life would be like this for eternity, for what could happen to disrupt such a paradise? Who would want to destroy perfection?
‘But it is just when such acceptance occurs, that things begin to
go wrong. We must never assume. We must be merely be grateful and give thanks for the minutes we are allowed.
‘And so the corruption of our lands began. A group of weary travellers came by night to our region, to the small village of Zelmat - a half day’s ride from here. They were beautiful but strange and the local people feared they carried a plague. But they begged for shelter and it was offered – a small cave with a well spring in the valley, just south of the village. It was a quiet place with five stone columns ranged around its entrance like guardians.
‘A local physician heard of their arrival and wondered about the condition that ailed them and so he paid them a visit. They said that the light hurt their eyes and the heat of the day was uncomfortable. That they preferred to make their appearances by night. The physician did not recognise such a disease and was unable to treat them.
‘They told him they came with disturbing news of a planned invasion from a warfaring tribe who lived across the sea. That these foreigners were arming and preparing to come, for they coveted our land for themselves. The village elders dismissed the travellers’ claims, but many of the villagers grew uneasy and word soon spread of the impending invasion.
‘What could they do? The art of warfare had been lost to them, for there had been no need to take up arms for centuries. They would all be slaughtered or enslaved or worse. Our people began to feel fear.
‘The travellers settled in well to the community, apart from their odd habit of sleeping by day and waking by night. In response to the panic at the threat of invasion, they came to see the village elders and put forward an ingenious suggestion. Why not build hidden underground shelters for everybody to hide in? Shelters which could not be seen from above ground. They could fill them with enough provisions to see them through any raid that might occur.
‘This suggestion took root and the idea grew and grew until plans were drawn up for the construction of a vast underground city that would support every one indefinitely. There would be stables and kitchens, churches, a well spring. In short, everything vital to life.
‘Work commenced in earnest. It was as if a line had been drawn on their old contented ways. Everybody ceased their idyllic pursuits and began, instead, to chip away at the rock - tunnelling, burrowing, hacking and scraping. It was exhausting, back-breaking work, but vital to their survival and they toiled as if the devil himself was whipping their aching bent bodies.’
‘Where did they build the entrance to this underground city?’ Isik interrupted.
‘Many people have asked this question over the years. The answer has been lost in history.’
‘What about the cave with the well spring?’ Alexandre asked. ‘In the village where the strangers were housed?’
‘There is no trace of such a place near Zelmat. People have searched but have never found the cave with its pillars.’ Havva shrugged her shoulders. ‘It is a lost city. And once you have heard the tale in its entirety, perhaps you will agree that it is a good thing.’
Alexandre tried to hide his dismay at this news. His father would be sorely disappointed. ‘I apologise for the interruption. Please do continue with the story. It is a fascinating tale.’
The other diners were also transfixed.
‘I never tire of hearing the legends,’ Asil Rais said. ‘Grandmother has been telling us these tales since we were children. She has a wonderful memory for stories. It is a gift she has.’
‘Flatterer,’ she laughed. ‘So, I will continue.
‘The city took years to build. Nobody thought it odd that they had not seen one single invader in all that time. They were too consumed with their task of building, tunnelling and scooping out the earth and rock.
‘The city was vast with many levels and stretched for miles but, best of all, there was no trace of it above ground and no invader would imagine there was such a world beneath their marauding feet. The local people stockpiled supplies. They carried down mountains of grains, pulses, animal feed, dried fruit, herbs and spices. Barrels of wine, strong liquor and olive oil were rolled into the underground storehouses. They mined copper ore to take down for melting and linseed was to be used for lamp oil.
‘They rounded up the livestock and herded it down into dark rock-hewn stables. Lastly, the villagers harvested all the fresh produce they could, in preparation for moving every trace of their lives below ground. They did not even sow seeds for the coming seasons for they did not want to give any clue of the civilisation who once lived there.
‘And so, late one night, under cover of darkness, the inhabitants from Zelmat and from the other villages in the region gathered in front of the five white pillars at the cave entrance to their new city, to make their way below ground. They did not know how long they would have to live there, but as long as the threat from invasion remained, they would be safe, hidden away from the world.
‘In all, over twenty thousand men, women and children descended into the bowels of the earth. And so, the exodus from above ground was complete.’
‘What a tale,’ Alexandre said. ‘Imagine moving lock stock and barrel under the ground, away from the light of day. Thank you for retelling it. I am grateful.’
‘That is only half of the story,’ said Asil Rais. ‘Children, it is late. You must go to your beds now.’
‘But, Father,’ Yunue said. ‘I do not know the ending.’
‘The end of this story is not for young children,’ Asil Rais said to him. ‘When you are grown, you may hear the ending.’
‘I know the ending already,’ Yusue taunted him. ‘And there is lots of blood!’
‘Yusue!’ his father said. ‘Bed. Now.’
The children reluctantly said goodnight and left the room with their mother, who also bid the guests goodnight.
‘We should very much like to hear the second part of the legend,’ Alexandre said. ‘But if you are tired and wish to retire, of course we would not presume to keep you. Maybe you would continue tomorrow?’
‘That is thoughtful,’ Havva replied. ‘But I do not sleep much these days. Three or four hours a night is usually enough for me and so if you really want to hear the rest of the tale, then now is as good a time as any. As long as you do not suffer from nightmares.’ At this she laughed her wheezy laugh. ‘But let us have tea, I am thirsty and another of your baklava would be good.’
They retired to a comfortable sitting room. The lamps were lit, casting a hazy latticed glow across the room and a large water pipe was set up on the floor, its crystal bottle glinting in the lamplight. Servants brought in tea and pastries and the three men smoked and drank tea whilst listening to the rest of Havva’s tale.
‘Those unfortunate people were not alone below the ground. The night they descended into the earth, they were accompanied by others.’
‘Others?’ Isik asked.
‘Yes,’ Havva continued. ‘The strangers who had arrived all those months ago were not as they seemed. They had spoken the truth when they talked of an invasion, but it was an invasion of their making. For you see, they had carefully planned the whole thing. When the city was finally complete, they sent word to others of their kind and they all descended into the earth together, along with the villagers.’
‘I do not understand,’ Isik said.
‘Demons, my friend,’ Asil Rais said. ‘Demons.’
‘Thank you, Asil,’ his Grandmother snapped. ‘Whose story is this?’
‘I am sorry, Great Grandmother. I am spoiling your tale.’
‘You most certainly are. But my impatient grandson is right. They were indeed foul demons. Demons who could not stand the light of day, for the sun’s rays would kill them. Demons who lived on blood alone.
‘Before the city was built, they had led solitary existences, coming out at night and feeding quickly, when and where they could. They killed with no mercy, taking human blood as we take bread or water. But their lives had always been lived in secret. They were never able to live freely, but forced to roam singly or in pairs for
they could not draw too much attention to themselves for fear of persecution.
‘Until one day, one of their kind devised a plan to give them everything they desired with no need to hide in the shadows anymore. It was a plan to signify the death of thousands of innocent humans; the humans who would follow them down into their underground lair and give them access to what they needed.’
‘So the travellers were the demons?’ Alexandre asked.
‘Yes. The villagers did not know it but they had built their own prison, their own hell. They had been duped into building a trap for themselves. Once down there, away from the sun’s protection, no one could help them, God rest their souls.
‘They were slaughtered with abandon, but even worse, many more were kept alive to breed and ensure an eternity of blood to satisfy the thirst of the evil ones. There is no happy ending. This is our terrible history and we ignore it at our peril.’
‘But forgive me,’ Alexandre said. ‘You said this is your ‘history’. Surely you cannot believe this is true?’
‘We ignore it at our peril,’ she repeated.
That night, Alexandre and Isik slept in the guest quarters, above the stables. Long after Isik was snoring, Alexandre lay thinking of the chilling tale. He could hear Havva’s rasping voice in his head, recounting the ancient words and he shivered despite himself. He laughed inwardly at his fears. She has unnerved me, he thought. That lady and her tales of underground demons.
*
The following morning, after a lavish breakfast of fried eggs, sausages and fresh-baked bread, Alexandre and Isik prepared to take their leave of the Sahin family. Alexandre was sorry to say goodbye, for in the short time he had been there, he had already grown fond of them.
Yusue reminded Alexandre of his earlier promise to show them his weapons.
‘Another time, Yusue,’ his father said, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. ‘Monsieur Chevalier is a busy man.’
‘I am not too busy to keep my word,’ Alexandre replied. ‘If your father agrees, we shall have a quick weapons training school in the garden.’
Three small faces swivelled round to look at their father, eyes wide, waiting for his consent.
‘If it is not too much of an imposition on your time.’
‘Come, children,’ Alexandre held Aysun’s hand and the two boys followed behind as they walked out through the front door. ‘But remember your father’s warning,’ Alexandre said. ‘If you touch any of these weapons without permission, you will turn instantly into black beetles and be forced to live under a rock for the rest of your days.’