Beeches and Bluebells : 無料・フリー素材/写真
Beeches and Bluebells / Giles Watson's poetry and prose
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| 説明 | Badbury Clump, near Faringdon, Oxfordshire.HINGEFINKLE'S LOGBOOK (Eleventh Instalment)The Attack of the AmphisbenaIt is most lamentable that the class of cold-blooded, crawling creatures whose hearts possess a single ventricle - by which I mean that plethora of species which includes the swamp-inhabiting Eft (known in the vulgar tongue as the “Newt”), the Frog, Toad, Axolotl, and most likely the Hydra, as well as those creatures more (though not exclusively) fond of dry land, such as the legged and legless Lizards and Serpents, and those of hybrid natures such as Cockatrices and Basilisks - should be regarded, even in our enlightened times, with the utmost odium and distrust. Witness, for example, what a certain supposedly distinguished authority says in his Systema about these maligned and unfortunate creatures:Amphibia pleraque horrent, Corpore frigido, Colore livido, Cute Foeda, Facie torva, Obtutu meditabundo, Odore tetro, Sono rauco, Loco squalido, Veneo horrendo; non itaque in horum numerum sese jactavit eorum Auctor.- which, if I may venture a loose translation, means something like:Abhorrent are amphibians:Their bodies corpse-cold;Pale is their pigment;And squalid their skin!Abhorrent are amphibians:Their skeletons gristle,Malign are their eyes,And offensive their stench!Abhorrent are amphibians:Vile is their venom,Horrendous their habitats,Vulgar their voice.Abhorrent are amphibians,Grovelling on the ground.The Demiurge disdainedManufacturing too many.I need hardly say that the author of that diatribe had never visited the Rancid Swamp, or he would have realised that, contrary to his assumption, the Demiurge clearly delights in the amphibians, and indeed, encourages them to multiply and to evolve into an infinite and perplexing variety. He has committed, I fear, the unforgivable error of allowing his revulsion to affect his powers of observation, for he proceeds to classify among the Amphibia the Slow-worms, Lizards, Serpents and other creatures bearing scales and shedding their skins, applying to all and sundry further strings of libellous and mischievous epithets. This author, whose name I intend to withold, is supposedly an expert in his field; yet he has merely achieved the dubious distinction of gathering together a conglomeration of popular misconceptions under the guise of learned discourse. It is all pure fiddlesticks; would that he could have met with an Amphisbena and had his prejudices confirmed!*Once you have visited the Spodleian Library, my dear little Alias, it is well worth exploring its environs. Some five miles to the north, following the River Churnwell, you will find a little village of stone cottages, running up the hillside from the river-valley. Here, the river splits in two, and its tributary, named after a far more distinguished naturalist than the one I have been quoting, splits again and again, forming the fen which, in the times of the Great Goblin Hegemony, came to be known by the disparaging and misleading title of Snot Moor. The town itself did not have a name when I passed through it with Gladys Sparkbright - but it does now: it is called I-slip, for reasons which will soon become evident. It is a picturesque sort of a place, and the inn provides very respectable lodgings. I was keen to explore the “Moor” if Gladys would let me, so I persuaded her, with some difficulty, that we had travelled far enough for one day, and with our packs hung on the ends of our bunks, we sat and listened to the conversation of the locals as they guzzled ale from pewter mugs.“Bloomin’ ‘eck!” said the Tinker, a wizened little man with three teeth, who had long since hammered off all his fingernails. “If all this ‘ere trouble keeps up loike it ‘as been, I think I’ll be saddlin’ up me ‘oss an gettin’ outer ‘ere!”“Aye, yer cud ‘ardly be blamed fer that,” replied the Cobbler, wiping froth from his moustache with the back of his hand. “Not after wot ‘appened last noight!”“Oi can remember whan this ‘ere village used ter be as quoiet as a dead newt,” put in the Landlord, passing around more mugs of ale. “But this ‘ere mystery o’ th’ ‘Orrible ‘Oop ‘as got th’ ‘ole place all aeriated, loike a bottler ale wit’ too much primin’ sugar. Reckon we’re all goin’ ter explode wit’ anxoiety soon!”“Then why are we all sittin’ around witterin’ about it?” grumbled the Landlady, nudging her husband in the ribs, and gathering up the empty pickled-egg jars. “Let’s just get outer ‘ere, afore we end up loike Joe th’ Miller, pushin’ up daisies!”“Hum,” I said, exchanging intrigued glances with Gladys, “Perhaps we could be of some assistance. What precisely is the Horrible Hoop, and what happened to Joe the Miller?”“Ere! Wot ‘appened to Joe th’ Miller, ‘e wants t’know!” the Tinker laughed ruefully. “As if it ain’t all over these parts already!”“Joe th’ Miller dropped dead, just loike that,” explained the Landlady helpfully, “with an ‘orrible look o’ fear on ‘is face, as if ‘e’d kicked th’ bucket from sheer terror. Ee stumbled through that thare door -” here she pointed a gnarled finger at the front door of the ale-house “- muttered summat in a choked-up sort o’ way ‘bout t’ ‘Orrible ‘Oop, an’ keeled over on the spot. Stone dead, ee were!”“Aye, an’ ee worn’t the first, noither,” said the Cobbler, draining another pint. “Thar was th’ Parson too, found all laid out loike a Yuletide pig i’front o’ th’ altar in th’ chapel, wit’ th’ same ‘spression on ‘is face, not two noights ‘afore!”“Oi reckon we’ll be ‘ard pressed to get another Parson i’these parts now,” added the Landlord, reserving a mug for himself. “That’ll be th’ end o’ that strange religion of ‘is in this village, mark my words!”“How absolutely fascinating!” I said. “When one combines the night-time attacks, the terrified expressions, and the reference to a Horrible Hoop - there is good reason to suppose that the mystery may be cleared up on those lines. I only wish Agrimony were here, but perhaps I can apply his methods. Let me see. Were there marks of any kind on the bodies?”“Aye! Joe th’ Miller came in clutchin’ ‘is leg, an when we tore ‘is britches open, thar were two pairs o’ puncture marks i’th’ skin,” the Landlady ventured helpfully. “Oi don’t roightly know ‘bout th’ Parson, but yer cud ask Sid th’ Undertaker. Sid?”It was only then that I noticed a very short, gloomy-looking fellow sitting in the corner of the room, eyeing his glass of spirits as if it was poison. At the landlady’s words he turned towards us, revealing a black-bearded face and sullen grey eyes. “Aye. Depressin’, it were,” he said with a sigh, “Two pairs o’ holes, just loike th’ Lan’lady said. Th’ parson were a roight good partner i’th’ bizniss - roight good. ‘Ee were th’ first person Oi ever regretted buryin’.” He turned dismally back to his glass, and could not be persuaded to divulge any further information.“Hum. I should say that without a doubt, you people have had the privilege of being visited by an Amphisbena,” I said excitedly. “Yes. Yes! This really is fascinating!”“An Amphiswot?” grimaced the Cobbler, glancing regretfully into his empty pint-pot.“An Amphisbena,” I repeated. “The paired puncture holes would seem to be irrefutable evidence, since the Amphisbena is the only serpent with two heads - and the dying allusion to a Horrible Hoop is clearly a reference to its typical means of locomotion.”“Come again?” said the Landlord. “Its locerwot?”“Eee, by gum!” replied Gladys suddenly. “Old ‘Ingefinkle is raht, thar’s no doubt abaht it! Wot ee means is - th’ Amphisbena rolls from place ter place lahk a hoop - wit’ th’ ‘ead on its tail ‘oldin’ on ter th’ ‘ead on its ‘ead.”Gladys’s explanation - admirable, so I thought, in its simplicity - seemed to leave the villagers more flummoxed than ever, and indeed, I am not at all sure that any of them really understood what an Amphisbena was until they had seen it with their own eyes. But you, my dear little Alias, have seen a very accurate depiction of one in the bestiary owned by Agrimony, and are therefore well aware of the morphological difficulties which make it impossible to decide whether to classify it as a reptile or as an amphibian. It certainly leads an amphibious lifestyle, sleeping in the marshes, and doing all of its hunting on dry land (and it hears through its lungs, too - a sure sign of a more primitive stage of development), but it also has scales, and the larval form has yet to be discovered. In any case, the most remarkable thing about it is, as Gladys had implied, that it invariably possesses two heads, the second cranium being located at the end of the tail. When the creature curls itself into a circle and the two pairs of jaws interlock, it is able to bowl along the ground like a hoop, thus overcoming the obstacles which normal serpents experience as a result of having their bellies always in contact with the ground. In addition to this astounding and useful adaptation, the Amphisbena is also, without a shadow of a doubt, the most venomous creature in the world. When I told the villagers this, I am sorry to say that they demonstrated their lack of interest in the morphology of the Amphisbena by leaping from their seats, sending pewter mugs flying in every direction. They grabbed their packs and made for the door, vowing never to return to these god-forsaken parts ever again.“Oh, don’t be such a daft bunch o’ namby-pambies,” Gladys shouted at their receding backs, “Thar’s nowt ter be worritin’ abaht! All yer need is a few gallons o’ drippin’!”“Fiddlesticks!” I said. “Now I know you’re clever with astrolabes and explosives, Gladys, but I cannot see how a few gallons of dripping can provide any protection whatsover against the venom of an Amphisbena. Perhaps you are not aware that an Amphisbena can fell a fully grown specimen of Draco terribilis pyromanicus with just one bite?”“Now you mark mah words,” said Gladys sternly, raising her finger and appraising me over the frame of her spectacles, “drippin’ will do th’ trick, raht as rain - same principle as th’ sprockets in me pocket watch! Now just let’s go an’ fahnd t’Butcher!”*The Butcher was not at all pleased when the other villagers required him to relinquish all his stocks of dripping free of charge for the benefit of the community, but at last he grudgingly obliged. Gladys had the villagers scrape the great barrelsful of fat into cauldrons, and set them on a bonfire until it had all turned into a clear, viscous liquid.“Raht!” she said, knitting needles akimbo, “Now smear t’drippin’ all arahnd t’outskirts o’ th’ village!”“Hum. You can’t be serious, surely, Gladys? What good will that do?” I cried, but the villagers seemed to have taken courage from her superabundant confidence, and they set about pouring the steaming dripping on the grass from one end of the village to the other.“Aye! It’ll work lahk a charm!” chuckled Gladys. “Which way is Snotmoor from ‘ere?”“Hum. That way,” I said, pointing east towards the river.“Good! Slap it dahn extra thick over there!” she shouted, and the villagers rushed to do her bidding, until the long grass lay flat and glistening in the moonlight, and the smell of dripping hung thickly in the wind.And then we stood and waited, looking out towards the east until Rigel rose on the horizon before us, and the Tinker cried, “Over there! Revolvin’ lights!”Sure enough, as we looked out towards Snotmoor, the four baleful eyes of the Amphisbena approached, spinning like perverse pyrotechnics, and soon I could make out the glistening scales on the graceful arc of its belly. As it drew nearer, I observed with some surprise that both heads were mumbling in unison through gritted teeth - something about the superiority of canaliculate fangs, if I remember rightly. Gladys handed me a little telescope, and with its aid I was able to make out two long, flickering tongues, dripping with saliva - or, I suppose on reflection, more probably with poison.“A reptile!” I whispered hoarsely, “Quite definitely a reptile! This is - this is extraordinary!” And then suddenly the beautiful Amphisbena hit Gladys Sparkbright’s swathe of dripping.“I slip! I slip! Confound it!” cried the Amphisbena, quite forgetting to retain a grip on itself, and with those words it described a graceful arc through the air, made a loud snap like the cracking of a whip, and dropped with a plop into the River Churnwell.“Oh, fiddlesticks!” I grumbled, stamping my feet with disappointment. “Amphisbenas cannot swim against a current! Now we’ll never get a chance to examine it!” The poor Amphisbena doubtless survived its ordeal, but I doubt very much whether it would have reached the banks of the river before it had passed the Spodleian Library five miles downstream - so at least I could take consolation in the fact that it would be unlikely to find anyone else to poison once it was a castaway in the wilds beyond.“Eeee, by gum!” said Gladys with satisfaction. “Well, wotjer think o’ that, ladies an’ gentlemen?” But as she turned about expecting the villagers’ grateful applause, we discovered to our very great surprise that all of them had disappeared. “Now where ‘ave those daft buggers got to?” asked Gladys haughtily.“Hum,” I said. “Methinks they ran away. In which case, they should be hitting the line of dripping at the other end of the village just about - now!” And not a moment later, the air was filled with the stricken cries of the Landlord, Landlady, Tinker, Cobbler, Undertaker and Butcher as they floundered in a strip of the Butcher’s best dripping three ells wide.“I must confess, Gladys, you have left me completely flummoxed,” I said early the next morning, as we waved goodbye to the bruised but grateful villagers of I-slip and went on our way.“Don’t be daft,” said Gladys, “There were nowt to it.”“Hum, yes,” I admitted. “But what on earth does forty gallons of the Butcher’s best dripping have to do with your pocket watch?”Gladys chuckled softly to herself, rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan, and winked mischievously at me over the frame of her spectacles.“Eee, it’s perfectly simple,” she replied. “No friction, Mr. ‘Ingefinkle, no friction!” |
| 撮影日 | 2009-05-02 12:34:32 |
| 撮影者 | Giles Watson's poetry and prose , Oxfordshire, England |
| タグ | |
| 撮影地 | |
| カメラ | E8700 , NIKON |
| 露出 | 0.014 sec (1/69) |
| 開放F値 | f/5.0 |