Professor ran his glass to and fro across the page, raising his eye occasionally to take in both bean and illustration. Then, sitting back in his chair with a sigh, he said, “You’ve certainly pulled off the big one this time, Jim.”
Pooley, uncertain whether or not this was meant as a compliment, remained silent.
“Phaseolus Satanicus,” the Professor said, “Phaseolus being in general the genus of the ever popular and edible bean, Satanicus being quite another matter. Now this book” – he tapped at the vellum page with his exquisite fingertip – “this book is the work of one James Murrell, known as the Hadleigh Seer, who enumerated and copied the masterworks, astrological charts and almanacs of previous and largely forgotten mages and minor wizards. Little remains of his work, but I have through means that I care not to divulge come into the possession of this one volume. It is a book entirely dedicated to the detailed study of what you might term magical herbs, spices, seeds and beans. It lists the pharmaceutical, thaumaturgical and metaphysical uses of these and includes within its skin bindings certain notes upon plants and seedlings which the ancients referred to as sacred. Either because of their mindbending qualities when distilled or because they possessed certain characteristics which were outside the scope of normal explanation.”
“So there are magical properties adherent to this particular bean then?” said Pooley.
“I should not care to call them magical,” said the Professor, “but let me tell you that this bean of yours pays allegiance to the powers of darkness to a point that it is better not thought of, let alone mentioned in the public bar of the Flying Swan.”
“I prefer to patronize the saloon bar actually,” said Pooley, “but pray continue, I find your monologue fascinating.”
“I shall read to you directly from the book,” said the Professor, “then when I have finished we shall see if you still find my monologue fascinating.”
Pooley poured himself yet another sherry and wondered whether he might interest the Professor in a home-brew lager kit.
“‘Phaseolus Satanicus’,” the Professor read once more. “This first passage is a loose translation from the Greek. ‘And when the casket was opened and when the evil one set his burning hoof upon the plains of earth, then did Pandora weep those five bitter tears. And where those tears fell on the fields of men there did they take root and flourish withal. And Ephimetheus seeing the ill work that his wife had performed snatched forth those five dark saplings and cast them into the places of absolute night from whence should man go onward to seek them then surely he should never more return.’”
“That’s all very well,” said Jim Pooley.
“The next quotation comes from Jean-Francois Champollion, 1790-1832, the man who originally deciphered the Egyptian hieroglyphic system. ‘Anubis stared upon the manchild that had come before him and questioned him over his possessions and the pharaoh did answer saying I bear seventeen oxen, fifteen caskets of gold and precious stones. Carvings and set tableaus of rich embellishment and the five that dwell within the sacred house where none may tread. And Anubis took fright, even he that stands guardian over the realms of the beyond was afeared and he turned back the manchild that stood before the sacred river saying never shall you cross until your weight is above the holy balance. Which never can it be for the five set the scales heavily against you.’”
Pooley reached for the sherry decanter but found to his dismay that it was empty. “This five whatever they are sound somewhat sinister,” said he, “but the threat seems also a trifle nebulous.”
The Professor looked up from his antique tome. “This book was handwritten some three centuries ago,” said he, “not by some casual dilettante of the occult but by a mage of the first order. I have given you two
Pooley, uncertain whether or not this was meant as a compliment, remained silent.
“Phaseolus Satanicus,” the Professor said, “Phaseolus being in general the genus of the ever popular and edible bean, Satanicus being quite another matter. Now this book” – he tapped at the vellum page with his exquisite fingertip – “this book is the work of one James Murrell, known as the Hadleigh Seer, who enumerated and copied the masterworks, astrological charts and almanacs of previous and largely forgotten mages and minor wizards. Little remains of his work, but I have through means that I care not to divulge come into the possession of this one volume. It is a book entirely dedicated to the detailed study of what you might term magical herbs, spices, seeds and beans. It lists the pharmaceutical, thaumaturgical and metaphysical uses of these and includes within its skin bindings certain notes upon plants and seedlings which the ancients referred to as sacred. Either because of their mindbending qualities when distilled or because they possessed certain characteristics which were outside the scope of normal explanation.”
“So there are magical properties adherent to this particular bean then?” said Pooley.
“I should not care to call them magical,” said the Professor, “but let me tell you that this bean of yours pays allegiance to the powers of darkness to a point that it is better not thought of, let alone mentioned in the public bar of the Flying Swan.”
“I prefer to patronize the saloon bar actually,” said Pooley, “but pray continue, I find your monologue fascinating.”
“I shall read to you directly from the book,” said the Professor, “then when I have finished we shall see if you still find my monologue fascinating.”
Pooley poured himself yet another sherry and wondered whether he might interest the Professor in a home-brew lager kit.
“‘Phaseolus Satanicus’,” the Professor read once more. “This first passage is a loose translation from the Greek. ‘And when the casket was opened and when the evil one set his burning hoof upon the plains of earth, then did Pandora weep those five bitter tears. And where those tears fell on the fields of men there did they take root and flourish withal. And Ephimetheus seeing the ill work that his wife had performed snatched forth those five dark saplings and cast them into the places of absolute night from whence should man go onward to seek them then surely he should never more return.’”
“That’s all very well,” said Jim Pooley.
“The next quotation comes from Jean-Francois Champollion, 1790-1832, the man who originally deciphered the Egyptian hieroglyphic system. ‘Anubis stared upon the manchild that had come before him and questioned him over his possessions and the pharaoh did answer saying I bear seventeen oxen, fifteen caskets of gold and precious stones. Carvings and set tableaus of rich embellishment and the five that dwell within the sacred house where none may tread. And Anubis took fright, even he that stands guardian over the realms of the beyond was afeared and he turned back the manchild that stood before the sacred river saying never shall you cross until your weight is above the holy balance. Which never can it be for the five set the scales heavily against you.’”
Pooley reached for the sherry decanter but found to his dismay that it was empty. “This five whatever they are sound somewhat sinister,” said he, “but the threat seems also a trifle nebulous.”
The Professor looked up from his antique tome. “This book was handwritten some three centuries ago,” said he, “not by some casual dilettante of the occult but by a mage of the first order. I have given you two
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