intend to be. And when I am, then I will find the fabled Lost City of Begrem and I will recover the riches. To distribute amongst the poor. Of course.’
‘Of course,’ I agreed. ‘Riches?’ I queried.
‘The Sumerian Kynges, boy – their treasure. Would you like to hear all about it?’
And I agreed that I would.
‘The Cradle of Civilisation,’ said the captain, settling back in the visitors’ chair and making an all- inclusive gesture with his biccy. ‘From the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve never walked far. They never had to because all was in abundance back then. When the World was young and Man was younger still, the tribes increased and learning increased and great were the cities that were built. Thus it is written of Babel ’s tower and of those twin evil cities on the plain. But also it is written that a great city called Begrem [4] existed. And this city was under the dominion of one of the Sumerian Kynges – Georgius, his name was.’
I chewed upon a custard creme. And I nodded as I chewed.
‘In those early times,’ Captain Lynch continued, ‘those first times, before there were clocks to tick the world away, Man knew God as he knew his fellow Man. For God walked upon the face of the Earth and did come unto Man and speak unto him thusly:
‘ “Hello, Man, there,” ’ saith God.
‘ “And hello, God, sir,” ’ saith Man, in return.
‘But strange as it is, and I do find this exceedingly strange, even though Man knew God as he knew his fellow Man, there were those Men who fell from the Grace of God, who moved away from His presence. Who even plotted against Him.’
‘Why?’ I asked, though I probably should not have.
‘I’ll tell you why,’ said the captain. ‘The power of Evil. The power of the Devil. The Fallen One. Old Clootie. He That Doth Backwards Walk. The Horned. The King of the Shadow World. Man will never know the true nature of the Evil One, just as Man can never truly know the true nature of God. But he exists as God exists and he led the Kynge of Begrem astray.
‘He appealed, so they say, to the vanity of the Kynge and to his longing for power, more power. He offered the Kynge of Begrem the wealth of all the ages if he would perform a task for him.’
As I had finished the biscuit of my choice, I helped myself to another one.
‘He besought the Kynge to create a Homunculus,’ said Captain Lynch. And I had no choice but to ask what one of those was. And I did spit some crumbs onto the captain as I asked.
The captain dusted these lightly from his sleeve. ‘The Devil’s children, born of Man. ’
‘Conceived by witches?’ I said, quite glad to be back on a subject I really liked. Although still eager for more talk of explorers.
‘Allow me to explain,’ said Captain Lynch. ‘The Devil can tempt. The Devil can lie and cheat. But the Devil cannot have congress with a woman, be she witch or otherwise, that will lead to the birth of the Devil’s child. This cannot be done. God decreed that this shall not be done and cannot be done. And it cannot.’
‘Hence the Homunculus?’ said I.
‘Precisely,’ said the captain.
And I felt quite pleased with myself.
‘It is now understood by clerics and physicians alike,’ the captain continued, ‘that the soul of a new human being does not enter the body of the foetus until the third month of gestation. Before that, the unborn baby is by all accounts soulless. This is the real reason why it is acceptable to abort a child during this period. The child has no soul.’
I said nothing in response to this remark. Although it made me feel somewhat uncomfortable.
‘And it is during this period that the unborn child is in the greatest danger.’
‘From abortionists?’ I asked.
‘From alchemists,’ said Captain Lynch. ‘From the Devil’s alchemists. At the behest of their master they attempt to inflict upon the unborn child an alternative soul, to invest it with a soul of an ungodly alchemist’s creation. One that he has conjured with the Devil’s magic.’
‘To what purpose?’ I enquired.
‘To be a vessel of Satan. To be as near to the Devil’s child as the Devil can make him (or her) without transgressing God’s law concerning that kind of behaviour. It is a great feat of magic to perform this operation. One of the greatest, in fact. So great, indeed, that it can only be performed once every hundred years.’
I just nodded to all of this. I felt that we had lost the plot somewhere along the line. Because the plot had originally been to do with the Sumerian Kynges, riches and explorers. I wasn’t altogether certain where all this talk of Homunculi was leading. (You will note that I used the plural correctly. This would be because I had encountered the word a week earlier in a copy of Alchemist Today, at the dentist’s.)
‘About the Sumerian Kynges and the riches and the exploring-’ I said.
‘The Sumerian Kynge Georgius, Kynge of Begrem, performed the conjuration and the Homunculus was created. And God was very angry as to this, as He was in those early days. He was roused to anger sometimes even through the slightest things back then. But the creation of the Homunculus really got His holy dander up.’
Captain Lynch made a facial expression that I knew not the meaning of.
‘And so,’ said he, ‘there was mighty trouble. The Devil was delighted by the evil progeny that was created. And upon this one occasion – the first, and the last – he honoured his side of the bargain and rewarded Georgius with massive wealth. Tons of gold and jewels and precious stones. A Kynge’s ransom, if you will.’
‘And all this wealth appeared in Begrem?’ I asked.
‘All. In fact, the Devil turned the entire city into gold.’
‘The Golden City of Begrem,’ I said. With wonder in my voice.
‘Only for a moment. And then God’s wrath fell upon it. And it was swallowed into the sand.’
I paused here. Just for a moment. Because I had one of those feelings that you sometimes have. One of those feelings that something is coming. Something pertinent. Something important.
‘You wouldn’t…’ I said. Hesitatingly. ‘Have a map of where Begrem once was. I suppose.’
And Captain Lynch nodded.
‘I would,’ said he. ‘I would.’
4
Captain Lynch didn’t show me his map. But I have no doubt whatsoever that he did possess it. In fact, I know absolutely that he did. Because, as it is now in my possession, I can speak of this particular matter with some degree of authority.
Upon that particular day, our conversation continued just a little longer. The captain had a few final remarks to make upon the subject of the Homunculus.
‘Since the creation of the first, each century a powerful magician, aided in his dark magic by the Evil One himself, attempts the conjuration. And throughout history, one has been born each century, the product of pure, unadulterated Evil.’
And he continued. And he finished with, ‘The Victorian era bore one who came of age in the twentieth century – Adolf Hitler was his name. And the twentieth century has yielded up his successor.’
‘And his name?’ I asked.
‘Elvis Presley,’ said the captain.
5
I recall that, at the time, I found the captain’s remark rather unimaginative. He could have said anyone. He could have said George Formby. But he didn’t. He said Elvis Presley.
