The Eyeball Collector Read Free Page B

Augustus Fitzbaudly’s study glass cases lined every wall, each case holding a butterfly: dark brown Hairstreaks, ragged-winged Fritillaries, elegant Swallowtails and Painted Ladies. Hector prided himself on knowing all their common and Latin names. Augustus’s fascination with lepidoptery, the study of butterflies and moths, started after Hector’s mother died. As his father spent more and more time on his collection, Hector realized that to have his attention he too would have to develop an interest in these insects. At first he had been squeamish about some of the practices, but by now he anticipated eagerly the brown-paper wrapped packages stamped in large black letters ‘ Urbs Umida Lepidopterist Supplies ’ containing cocoons, butterfly eggs or caterpillars.
    ‘Here it is,’ said Augustus, and he held out a glass case twice the size of all the others. Within, its huge wings spread in the still symmetry of death, was the largest butterfly Hector had ever seen, its colours a myriad vibrant blues and greens and sparking purple.
    ‘ Papilio ingenspennatus ,’ said Augustus. ‘Its wingspan can measure up to a foot. Like the Blackwing, it is capable of surviving in the cocoon in very low temperatures, developing fully but not emerging until it is warm enough.’
    Hector looked on in awe. He had never seen anything like it. Even in such still repose it seemed to shimmer.
    ‘Did you go over the Bridge today?’ asked his father suddenly, catching him off guard. ‘I saw you come in earlier. You looked a little dishevelled to say the least.’
    There was no point denying it. Besides, was that a twinkle in his father’s eye? ‘I wanted to see what it was like on the other side, that’s all,’ said Hector lightly, still staring at the butterfly before him.
    ‘An adventure then. And what did you think? Ugly, filthy, smelly?’ Augustus was watching him keenly.
    Hector knew that was the answer his father expected. And it was true. How could he forget the ugliness, the grime and the stench? But the very thought sent a thrill of excitement through him too. ‘Over here everyone is so polite,’ he explained. ‘Or at least they pretend to be. The ladies twirl their parasols and show off their new gowns. The men bow and smile and make boring conversation. But it’s all a show. They don’t mean a word of it.’
    ‘There is probably some truth in that,’ murmured his father.
    ‘But over the river,’ Hector enthused, ‘it’s not just that the people look different, it’s how the place feels: alive, sort of scary but exciting too. Sometimes life seems half dead this side of the Foedus.’
    Now Augustus looked alarmed. He lowered his voice and spoke sternly.
    ‘Hector, don’t be drawn in by it. It might feel alluring, exciting, different, but it is vile, vile . Every vice known to man is come alive on those streets. The place is rotten to the core, peopled with bibacious gin-swilling wretches and reprobates. In fact, I forbid you to go there again.’
    Hector felt his face fall and his father immediately softened. ‘Your future is this side, son. I have a place for you in the business.’
    ‘As a wine merchant?’ said Hector ruefully. ‘But I don’t want . . .’
    Augustus placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. ‘Don’t forget, the wine business has served us well. It provides all we have. If you do not take over the business, then who will?’
    The long silence between the two, each disappointed in his own way, was broken by the chimes of the study clock. Hector considered his father for a moment more and, doubting his escapades over the river were the only cause of his father’s anger and anxiety, he changed the subject entirely.
    ‘Have you a riddle for me before I go to bed?’ he asked. It was a game they played nightly. ‘It is your turn.’
    Augustus relaxed his furrowed brow. ‘I have indeed, and it is a hard one. E.’
    ‘E?’ queried Hector with a frown.
    ‘E, plain and simple,’