Spirited Away - The Game

Edward proceeds to make the necessary preparations to change lodgings, being careful with the house staff not to mention that they will stay in the area. He wants to impress on casual observers that they are leaving for good.

After beating a tactical retreat and securing a bottle of Mrs. Coleman's best homemade sloe gin (and receiving only a moderate amount of teasing from the spirited landlady who seems convinced that the two gentlemen have encountered some horrid apparition at the Tubbs house and are now too frightened to spend another night there), Maximilian and Edward arrive at the lock-keeper's cottage. Here too the deepening Autumn has painted a picture of melancholy and desolation - the muddy towpath, the bare trees, the dead grasses bending over the canal - but upon a more careful inspection, the accommodation seems more than adequate. The low building is sturdy stone, even the roof is slate, the window shutters although sagging have been painted recently. There is a low fence surrounding what looks to be a muddy pit, but the wilting remnants of cabbages, pumpkins and beans suggest that until recently there had been a small garden. A pile of firewood is stacked neatly under the eave in expectation of the coming winter. And most importantly - there is smoke coming from the chimney. Mr. Peglar is at home.

"It sounds like this Mr Peglar is in friendly terms with both Dr Amberly and Henry the footman... As well as receiving visits from Starhouse himself, " he says quietly to Maximilian, as they approach.

"I'm hoping we can get him on friendly terms with ourselves as well," Maximilian replies. "You're in good standing with this Henry, aren't you? I feel the good doctor and I are getting along as well. So perhaps, we will be able to spin this in our favor." He knocks heartily at the door. "What was our pretense for coming to see the man again?" he asks only then.

"What? What!" the knocking is answered by a vigorous holler, followed by the unmistakable sounds of a person of advanced age struggling to get up from a low easy chair. "I'm coming, ain't I!"

He lowers his voice. "How about you are writing a book on the folklore of these lands, and we have heard of the legends linked to the canal, Sir? Both your friend Amberly and my friend Henry then mentioned the lock-keeper as a person who would be very knowledgeable on the matter, and suggested we pay him a visit."

"I do have the looks of an author," Maximilian says with a playful smile. "Like a Lord Byron type, wouldn't you agree? Let's go with that version for now."

"A most distinguished author," he adds smiling, then turns his attention to the door.

The door is opened by a man who might have been considered ancient even when Noah was first consulting shipwrights on how best to construct his famous Ark. Peglar must have been tall once, but now is shriveled and bent in two. His clothes are ill-fitting, probably handed to him by a charitable soul. He is turning his ill-shaven face upwards at the newcomers and blinks at them several times, which in combination with his bushy eyebrows makes him look a little something like a quizzical owl. After surveying them to his satisfaction, the man steps away from the door and shuffles inside; with one hand he props himself on the various pieces of furniture to help himself along the way, with the other he waves Edward and Maximilian to come in.

"You must be Mr Peglar, the lock-keeper... Thank you. Henry, the footman at the Tubbs' house, sends his regards, and recommended we pay you a visit. Here: we brought you some gin we hope you'll like.
My name is Edward Broadhurst.
You see, my master here, Mr Calstock, is a writer interested in this region... In its history, and... Legends. We heard there are some interesting stories, about this very canal? Dr Amberly, a friend of my master, also thinks you might know some of them... "

Edward seems to be doing a good job with the talking, so Maximilian just makes sure to look important as he enters, looking around the house and taking it in.

"A writer, is it? I don't know much about writing. Sit and listen to the old folks, that's how we've always done it. Sometimes a traveler. Seems proper this way. Then again..." by the time Edward mentions the bottle of gin, the old man has already sat back into his easy chair - another relic that had probably belonged to the Tubbs house at some point and still sturdy, but begrimed by time and use. The man eyes the bottle greedily but getting up again seems beyond his limits, so he waves at Edward to distribute the drinks. "Those old bones are not long for this world and then who'd be there to tell the stories? Might as well put them in your book. Thirsty work this, talking. The pipes need some grease; there's tumblers over there, on the counter. Now, let's see..."

Old Peglar begins spinning a yarn about a king of a Faerie court with greed for music. He would send his servant to walk from inn to inn, look for travelling minstrels, fiddlers and bards, and then confuse the roads so they would end up in his castle, where he would make them play the same ancient tune over and over. The old man is good at his craft and tells the story with passion (encouraged by the gin), but his tale doesn't appear to hold any useful clues. Nothing Maximilian and Edward have found out so far suggests that Mr. Tubbs has any skill with the fiddle or that his beautiful voice would cause a fairy king to covet his company.

There doesn't seem to be anything exceptional about the house that Maximilian notices. It is exceedingly poor and moderately dirty - someone must be coming to sweep from time to time, probably the same someone who has painted the shutters and had tended the garden. Peglar himself doesn't look to be capable of much, as evident from his laborious journey from his chair to the door and back. Why would Tubbs employ such a man to keep the heavy canal lock? Charity is the most obvious answer. Charity and... And a little something Mr. Tubbs has added to his estate, along with his "Faerie forest", to make it more mystical. Peglar is a Hermit, a profession that had been waning in popularity at the time of Maximilian's early childhood, but the young man has still heard tell of it. Rich families would employ a man to live in some hovel in an out-of-the-way courner of their estate, donating necessities and scraps from their tables; and from time to time they'd bring their guests to see him. The hermit would entertain by reciting poetry, telling fortunes or displaying wisdom in some other way, which would make the visiting ladies and gentlemen feel enriched and enlightened.

"So what do you make of it? Did you remember it all or should I tell it again?" Old Peglar asks somewhat smugly, after the young drummer boy had defeated the king after several displays of courage and cleverness.

"No, no, I remember it all," Maximilian replies. The story has been a good a one, but also a very long one, and he's not sure he wants to be stuck listening to the whole thing all over again. "I did particularly like the part about the beautiful fairy dancers," he adds. Then he leans back and takes a sip from his gin before asking, "Those confused roads, were those just any roads, or some in particular? We have heard rumors about this river..."

The old man chuckles in a way which implies that he has added the beautiful fairy dancers into the story himself and is pleased with their effect on his audience.

"The canal you mean? Oh, yes. Well, when England still had magic and Fairies walked among Christians, any road could be a Faerie road. You could be going down the same path you take every day to fetch water and end up on some haunted battlefield, or a dark castle with clouds of crows circling above it. Or if you have better luck - a glen where a revelry is held, with beautiful dancers and enchanted wine. Very few of those roads remain now. The canal was built upon one of them, the old stones are even used to reinforce it in places. And I tell you, I know better than to go about when there's lights dancing on the water, or when the whispers in the grasses are not just the wind!" He laughs again, a husky "heh heh heh" the elderly often employ to signify they possess more knowledge than the listener could fathom. He looks from under his bushy eyebrows first at Maximilian, then at Edward, and then empties his glass.

"You are here to look for old Tubbs, aren't you? Writer my eye! I know what's afoot. You've come to ask whether I've seen young Jack Starhouse on a Faerie barge passing by, with Tubbs in tow. Who put that idea into your heads? Mrs. Coleman at the inn?" Peglar waves his empty glass to show how he has divined the Irish lady's involvement. "Good woman. I'd be damned if she ain't half a witch herself, but she makes some mighty fine gin."

"We heard of Jack Starhouse... People think he is a fairy himself! The staff at the house, folks at the bakers' in the village... Do you agree? I believe he'd often come and visit you. Surely you'd have seen something strange about him, if there's any truth in those rumours... "

The question earns Edward an eruption of wheezing laughter.

"Every child knows not to accept gifts from a fairy, especially food. And Jack used to bring me scraps from the house all the time! Do you think I'd be allowing that if I thought him to be a fairy? No, no." The old man shakes his head. "Jack is a good boy and I am going to miss him, but I am glad he got away. This entire situation was doing a number on his nerves. Pity Tubbs had to go and get himself disappeared at this very time, but I bet you another bottle of this here excellent gin that Jack had nothing to do with it."

"So you think Mr. Starhouse had reason to want to get away from here?" Maximilian asks. "Just because of all these rumors about him, or is there more?" He tries to make himself sound just curious, like he's looking for another good story.

"Think? I don't think! I know!" and Peglar gives his visitors a very knowing smile indeed. He adjusts himself in his chair and rests his crooked hands in his lap, making himself comfortable to begin another story.

This one is not filled with wondrous adventures and travels to mythical lands, but is no less interesting due to the fact that it is connected to the investigation. Starhouse and Peglar had formed a friendship it seems, the younger man bringing gifts and helping around the little cabin and in return the lock keeper would listen to his troubles and offer wisdom (although rarely give advice). The old man confirms that Starhouse had been deeply unhappy by the constant attention from his employer, well-meaning as it might have been. He had been thinking of leaving for some time, but one does not abandon a secure, reasonably paid position so easily.

The straw to break the camel's back had fallen the day before Tubbs's disappearence. They had been returning - Mr. Tubbs and Starhouse - from Sowerby, or Halifax, or some other place to the east, and on the road they had happened upon a strange man who had begged them for a ride. A mild man that he was, Mr. Tubbs had agreed and Jack Starhouse had just been making space for the vagrant upon the box next to himself, when the man had introduced himself as "a powerful magician" and "a wizard of the highest degree". Excited, Tubbs had invited him inside the carriage instead, and there the man had ridden for several miles, conversing with Mr. Tubbs about God knows what; and when he finally disembarked, he'd given Starhouse a "very significant look" and a "roguish wink". Later, before leaving Starhouse to unhitch the horses and continue with his duties, Mr. Tubbs had said "Well, Jack, my lad, we shall see what we shall see."

"Jack came that night to say goodbye. He told me all about it, and that he suspected the two men had concocted some mischief and that he'd be damned if he stayed to find out."

"Now that is an interesting revelation," Maximilian said, leaning forward excitedly. "Mr. Starhouse did not, by any chance, offer a description of the man claiming to be a magician?"

He raises an eyebrow at the tale. "Quite drastic decisions for both Starhouse and Mr Tubbs, following a simple chance encounter like that..." he comments.

"Did Mr Starhouse ever talk of whereabouts he would go, once he left these parts, Mr Peglar?"