Free Humpty's Bones by Simon Clark Page B

through the notes reading at random. ‘“Chapter 21: The importance of avoiding women. The scourge of carnal affection. Chapter 25: An explanation on the reasons why desire of the world and of womankind is to be detested. Tears which are turned into music.” Ah ha. “Women for kitchen hearth and birthing”... ’ Heather smiled. ‘It’s fairly obvious what the dear old Hermit thought about our sex.’
    Eden spoke with utter conviction. ‘But your mother - my grandmother - learned something from the Hermit’s book, which had a profound effect on her. She stopped all work on the translation.’
    ‘You might be right, Eden. But if it’s here I don’t see it.’ Heather turned the pages. ‘Although take a look at that. My mother was doodling in church.’
    Here was a sketch on one page devoted to translating a hymn that ran Make my flesh free of earthly love. The drawing of people, sitting in pews before a priest pointing skyward, had been titled Our Happy Congregation, Harvest Festival, 2 nd October 1968.
    ‘We always used to go to church on Sundays,’ Heather sighed. ‘I never saw Mum sketch this, though. “Happy Congregation” is meant to be a joke of course, just look at these lines above the people. She drew steam coming out of their heads to show how angry they are.’ She studied the doodle more closely. ‘Good heavens, she’s drawn the villagers like gargoyles.’
    ‘No, these aren’t caricatures. Look at the size of their noses. She’s drawn Mr Hezzle’s family.’
    ‘Goodness, I think you’re right. I’d bet good money that the chap at the end shaking his fist is Albert Hezzle, the man you met a couple of days ago. A lot younger here, of course. This sketch was done over forty years ago. And he’s still as grumpy. My Mother wasn’t a bad artist. She’s caught the mood all right. They’re not happy about what the Vicar’s telling them.’
    ‘Go right to the end of the file. See what the last notes are before she stopped.’ Eden surged on with an additional, ‘Or before she was stopped.’
    Heather gave Eden a curious sideways glance but said nothing. ‘It’s still chapter headings and fragments of the Hermit’s verse.’
    ‘Which prove he was a life-hating, world-hating misogynist.’
    ‘Absolutely... ’ Heather worked her way to the last page. ‘Ah, here’s something.’ Her voice rose in surprise. ‘Dog Star House! It’s about this place. My God.’
    ‘But the house wouldn’t have been built in the middle ages.’
    ‘No. It’s about what stood here before.’
    ‘Then this must be important. Your mother was preparing to do a lot of detailed work on the translation. Only for some reason she didn’t get any further.’
    ‘Like I said. Morning sickness. In spades.’
    ‘No, I don’t believe that. Your mother was onto something. Mr Hezzle warned me about digging holes in the garden.’
    ‘Mr Hezzle’s a - ’
    ‘No, this is important.’ With Heather’s no doubt derogatory assessment of the old farmer brushed aside, she added, ‘Look at all these words here. Your mother was searching for the right translation of a particular phrase. This must have been key to what was happening here. She took pains to get it right. See: Homo Prima . Then there’s different attempts at turning the phrase into English.’ She quickly read the list as a tingle of excitement ran through her. ‘“ Homo Prima. First Man. Original Man. Premier Man.” Look: “First Man” is underlined twice.’
    ‘“First Man”? That’s probably a title for the male head of a family or a tribe.’
    Eden tilted her head to see something scrawled in a margin. ‘The First Man is connected with the site of this house. Here’s some notes: “H demands Bishop conduct exorcism on Dog Star Hook. Bishop accedes.”‘ Eden mouthed the cryptic sentence again to herself, ‘H? H for Hermit I suppose. Dog Star Hook?’
    ‘That’s what locals call the bend in the road. The one that makes it curl half-way