Story by Mark Hayes
The book came into my procession three weeks ago, after a great storm washed another wreck upon to the beaches west of the lighthouse. The book was old, bound in tattered leather and damaged by the salt of the sea. I have every reason to believe the latter was true even before the wreck.
I did not discover the book, that was my second cousin Incongruity Jones, but he passed the book on to me, as I am of the scholarly type, And also the from of the book was embronzed by the words ‘Fungus Fatisque Vocantia Te*’. Incongruity recognised the Latin word for Mushroom, so thought the contents of the book might be of interest to my main field of study.
*the spore of the mushroom beckons you
Most of the pages of ‘The book’ were damaged beyond repair. Some clearly had detailed lithographs of various fungi, and long descriptions which would have been of great interest, yet most were now indecipherable. But at the back of the book, spread across some thirty pages was the modern translation of a medieval ballad, which seemed somewhat incongruous to the other contents of ‘the book’. This too was damaged so that only fragments could be read. Fragments that meant little but hinted at much.
What is most strange, and thus worthy of note, are the passages that refer to our own island and events upon it. This being a medieval ballad, originally written in Middle English, then translated, and published according to the notes in the front in London in 1886. Yet it speaks of Hopeless, which implies someone from here took the tale out to the world centuries ago, or else some in the world had a way of knowing of events on the island centuries back….
The title of the poem was also Latin ‘Domino Galoglass layci et grail’ which translates roughly as ‘The lays of Sir Gallowglass and the Holy Grail’ possibly. My Latin is less than perfect. The poem, what fragments remain’ however is in English.
Additionally, poetry is not my string point. I study fungi as a rule, but the latest research orphan is a bit of a moody sod given to reading the kind of poetry than depresses the spirit while wearing black. He writes a little as well and says the structure of the poem is, to quote him, ‘garbage, it’s like it’s just made up by someone.’
I pointed out ‘all poetry is ‘just made up by someone’. And gave him a clip round the ear.
He said ‘a two line rhyme followed by a discontented line and a hook is a bloody odd way to structure poetry’.
I threatened to dig out the birch switch if he didn’t bugger off and leave me to it.
He left. I don’t think he will last long, too gobby for one thing. I think we will have to do another study of the effects of Deaths Nightcap in tea before long. He may as well prove useful…
In any regard, after some rather lurid passages about Sir Gallowglass, a maiden in a tower, unrequited longings and his death at the hands of a dragon or some other mythical creature, its hard to be sure as most of these sections are lost to us we arrive at a passage where the knight, apparently dead and a ghost, but not letting that keep him down, arrived at a strange shore…
Sir Gallowglass to isle most Hopeless came
Through mist and fog and sleet and rain
When gibbous moon rises high
Then haunt doth seek the haunts cup
Mort brings no rest in hallowed halls
He seeks he cure to the woes of all
The ghost of that the lamb’s lips touched
Then haunt doth seek the haunts cup
The grail, the grail, he seeks it still
Death brings not rest beneath honours hill
Whence luna’s light doth shine
Then haunt doth seek the haunts cup
There are then several passages that follow along the same lines, something about frogs ‘In thine wisdom listen to them not’ Several obscured fragmented pages. None of which would seem to speak about Hopeless, but then a passage relates to things indigenous to the island more directly.
Lick not the cat of dust beseech
Nor in the night potato patch reach
Whence night is dark stay home, stay home
Then haunt doth seek the haunts cup
One day the sun will shine again
And Sir Gallowglass know tis not in vain
If he but lay his hand upon the chalice, and so.
Then haunt doth seek the haunts cup
This section seems to speak of future events, of a redemption of some kind. Of a sunlit island which seems impossible to me. Then of course most of the work is obscured and illegible thanks to the salt water, there is a passage that I think reads ‘beware the trousers of ill content’ and another that has something to do with ducks, there is only one complete stanza left which is the one below.
By pond of frogs in multitude
And towers of toads that shall not be stewed
Hide from the knight who seeks the grail
The haunt doth seek the haunts cup
It’s all a bit bizarre and I would dismiss it entirely, old though the book is some of it seems handwritten rather than printed. Transcribed carefully to look like print. It crossed my mind this may be a prank being played upon me by one of the research orphans. But this seems as inconceivable, as it is far too complex to be such a thing. But if it is genuine then some story of the island has clearly made it off the island centuries ago and then come back to us. The implications are worrying…
Also, there is a pond, well known for its frogs, in the middle of the island in some woods that according to local legend the ghost of a knight hunts there under a full moon seeking something long lost to man. Which sounds very strange so is probably true. I find myself wondering what the hell any of this has to do with mushrooms however.
(Note from Nimue – this was written after it was pointed out to Mark that he seemed to have visited the same Frog Chapel as Dr Abbey – posted in in this tale long before Mark got involved. I’m pretty sure Mark doesn’t know about trousers of ill content but that’s trouser magic for you.)