While haunting the attics of The Squid and Teapot, the ghost of Granny Bucket had discovered the vertical passageway leading to The Underland, and the nebulous dangers of the Crystal Cave. Her granddaughter, Philomena, had previously sealed the way, however, following the disappearance of young Marigold Burleigh. While mere mortals seemingly had no access to the cavern, this proved no barrier to Granny’s wraith, who was determined to contact her old friend, the Elizabethan alchemist, Doctor John Dee. To Granny’s surprise, when she reached Dee’s study it was not the learned doctor whom she encountered; instead she found herself staring into the eyes of Durosimi O’Stoat.
“Is your granddaughter so arrogant,” drawled Durosimi, “that she believes herself to know the only way into the Crystal Cave?”
Granny ignored the question.
“The last that I heard,” she said, “was that you were enslaving young men in an attempt to clear the passageway. The Lost Boys, we called them, and to my knowledge, they all escaped.”
“Enslaving?” Durosimi raised a single eyebrow. “A foul calumny, I assure you. I simply engaged a few youngsters to do a job of work for me… besides, there are plenty of others who were willing to help after that first unfortunate mutiny.”
‘So you found a way to get here. Congratulations,” said Granny, unenthusiastically, then added, “and what have you done with John Dee?”
“Done with him? Why, nothing.” said Durosimi. “It appears that we have arrived here in the year 1583, and, if my research into Dee’s life is correct, he is currently in Poland with his friend, the charlatan, Edward Kelley.”
“Typical!” exclaimed Granny. “So what are you doing still hanging around?”
“I have other business here,” said Durosimi.
He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “Did you know that Dee was aware of the existence of The Underland long before that Buck… before your granddaughter came here?”
Granny didn’t know that, but she kept quiet. Durosimi seemed to want to share, and she had no intention of stopping him.
“Through his knowledge of The Underland, Dee often travels to… who knows where?. These journals of his are not only full of his adventures, but give detailed information of how he achieves this.”
“And you intend to learn how to do the same,” said Granny.
Durosimi nodded. “At the moment I have to satisfy myself with being able to wander through Tudor London… which is something of a mixed blessing. Sometimes I wonder how anyone ever survived the squalor, filth and barbarity of the age. However, it has a few advantages.”
“Such as?”
“As an Elizabethan gentleman I have access to books of learning, not to mention a reasonable diet, passably good wine, excellent brandy…”
Durosimi strutted from behind the desk, displaying the somewhat flamboyant attire of a well-heeled Elizabethan-about-town.
“Nice codpiece,” observed Granny.
Durosimi ignored the remark, instead saying,
“I know that you and I have had a few differences of opinion in the past…”
“Differences of opinion!” spluttered Granny.”That’s an understatement.”
“But that aside, I think, deep down, we respect each other’s abilities.”
“So what are you getting at? No, don’t tell me. You want me to keep quiet about your little escapades in Merrie England.”
“I would be grateful.”
“And if I don’t?” said Granny, defiantly. “After all, you can hardly kill me.”
Durosimi was silent for a moment, then said,
“I was wondering if we could have some sort of quid pro quo arrangement. It means…”
“I know exactly what it means,” broke in Granny. “I’ll scratch yours if you scratch mine.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,” replied Durosimi. “But yes, in essence that is correct.”
“You might not have noticed,” said Granny, “but I have nothing to scratch. I am pure ectoplasm.”
“But your silence could ensure my bringing back from Merrie England, as you so inaccurately call it, the occasional luxury for your granddaughter.”
“She’s not one for luxuries,” replied Granny.
“Very well. How about better food for that inn? Something that doesn’t involve fish heads and bits of dead cephalopods.”
“What could you get?”
“Oh… cheese, butter, decent flour, spices, sweetmeats… I could arrange for something to be found at Scilly Point, or some other agreed location, now and then, as though it was no more than a random bit of
flotsam and jetsam thrown up by the sea. Philomena need never know the truth.”
“You want me to lie to my granddaughter?” Granny sounded offended.
“That’s about the size of it,” said Durosimi, casually.
Granny looked pensive for a moment, then said,
“Quid pro quo it is then.”