The Frankenstein Testament
Chapter 5

The Wicklow Hills (near Dublin, Ireland), the same night

The stately Georgian mansion stood wreathed in darkness. Astorm cloud stroked a velvet-black finger across the moon, threatening rain. Aflicker of lightening licked soundlessly over the sky and with it came thenoise that Lady Catherine de Lacy was dreading.

A long, keening wail sliced through the quiet darkness likea cavalry sabre. The cry spoke of indescribable loss and untold sorrow. It hadan unearthly pitch and rose to a terrifying crescendo then descended to anuncanny growl.

Lady de Lacy clasped the bedclothes to her.

"The Banshee!" she moaned.

She turned to her husband who lay beside her in the hugefour poster bed. Lord Arthur de Lacy, his corpulent body stuffed full ofafter-dinner port and Stilton, lay sound asleep. His breath wheezed in and outin little snores. The strange wail reached into his slumber and to her dreadhis wife saw his face twitch with the first stirrings of awakening.

"Mmph?! Wassat?" the Lord mumbled.

A new terror gripped Lady Catherine. The doctor had issued astark warning about the perilous state of her husband's heart. She dreaded tothink what effect this ghastly visitation could have on him.

"Shush, dear." Lady Catherine stroked thesilver-grey hair on her husband's temple, soothing him back into deep repose.

The terrible phenomenon had first occurred a week before,one night after the doctor's worrying pronouncement on the state of herhusband's health. The awful keening began shortly after midnight and Lady deLacy had known straight away what it was and just what it meant. Though born inDorset, England, for the last thirty-five years since her marriage to Lord deLacy she had lived in Ireland, and the servants had ensured she was well versedin the lore of the land. She knew all about the little people, the Pooka, the Dullahan and especially the Banshee, the ghastly female spiritwhose wailing heralded imminent death for whatever noble family she haunted.

The morning after that first strange visitation, Lady deLacy spoke of her experience to her husband as they sat at breakfast.Maria-their eighteen year old niece and ward-gasped in delighted teenagehorror. Mrs Doran, the redoubtable old housekeeper who had just arrived withsome fresh toast, crossed herself and muttered "Saints preserve us!"

With characteristic brusqueness, Lord de Lacy poo-pooed theidea.

"My dear," de Lacy set down the marmalade andpeered across the breakfast table with a condescending smile, "The Bansheeis nothing but superstitious nonsense popular among the natives here."

Mrs Doran tutted loudly. "I hope his Lordship doesn'thave to learn the hard way to respect tradition," she said. "TheBanshee's howl is a warning. Them for whom she calls had best make their peacewith their Maker, for they will soon meet him!"

Lady de Lacy and Maria both let out little involuntarycries, but Lord de Lacy merely sighed and shook his head. "Even if thereis such thing as the Banshee, I have no fear of it. The de Lacy family havelived here in this Castle for six-hundred years. We have our own messenger ofimpending doom. You know the history of my family, dear. From time immemorial,the traditional herald of the death of a de Lacy is the arrival of a blackcoach outside the door of the Castle at midnight."

The next night Lady de Lacy had lain awake long into the weesmall hours, dreading the return of the awful screeching. Mercifully thehowling had not come. Neither did it the following night and she began tosuspect that her weird experience had been nothing more than a bad dream,invoked by too much cheese after dinner. On the third night she fell quicklyinto an exhausted sleep.

Shortly after midnight she had been torn from her slumber bythe same horrific screech: A sound like a cross between a woman wailing and ababy crying. It rose and fell on the wind, somehow expressing a terrible senseof the utter desolation of bereavement and the loneliness that it brought forthose left behind.

This time, to her terror, the sound was followed by theunmistakable sound of horses' hooves and the crunching rumble of carriagewheels coming up the gravel of the driveway to the castle.

Lady de Lacy had lain, petrified, listening in the darkness.Fear seized her throat and paralyzed her vocal chords. The sound of thecarriage wheels could be heard turning around in front of the castle and to herrelief began retreating once more back down the long, tree-lined driveway.

Emboldened, Lady de Lacy had got up and ran to the window.The scene outside was bathed in moonlight, but she could see no sign of acarriage or horses; Only the tree-lined driveway and the wide, expansive gardenthat lay before the house and stretched through trees and bushes into theextensive parkland that surrounded the Castle. A faint mist hugged the neatlycoiffured Lawn. There was nothing else there. Lady de Lacy sighed with relief.

Then the sigh caught in her throat.

Below the window, walking across the garden, she could seethe unmistakable figure of a woman. She wore a long, white gown and was walkingaway from the castle, her face concealed by a large, loose hood that was pulledup over her head. The sight sent a chill through Catherine de Lacy and somehow,instinctively, she knew that this was the being who had created the awfulwailing. She was actually watching a Banshee, her message of doom delivered,crossing the lawn.

Frozen with dread, Lady de Lacy looked on as the figure inwhite drifted through the mist until it reached a gap between two hedges thatled out into the parkland.

Then the figure simply vanished.

Lady de Lacy gasped. She blinked, but the woman was simplynot there any more. One moment she had been, the next she was gone.

With a little shriek, Lady de Lacy fled back to thefour-poster bed, pulled the curtains and ducked under the covers.

The next morning when she related the story her husband wasless sceptical. This time Lord de Lacy visibly paled, though he still mutteredabout it all being a load of rubbish.

"I saw her Patrick! I saw the Banshee!" Lady deLacy wailed. "She disappeared into thin air in the garden!"

Her husband looked vexed, but nevertheless he retorted"Now, Catherine. You must stop all this nonsense. This is nothing morethan the conjurations of your nerves, combined with too rich a supper beforebed."

His denials, however, lacked his customary certainty. Lordde Lacy seemed distracted through the rest of breakfast and soon afterwardsannounced suddenly that he had to go into Dublin.

Lady de Lacy spent a nervous day, on the one hand longingfor the evening and her husband's return but on the other dreading the darknessand any further uncanny terrors it might bring.

Just before dark, Lord de Lacy returned. They ate a quietdinner during which her husband pointedly avoided her questions as to what hisbusiness had been in the city. She watched in growing trepidation as herhusband drank more claret than usual and after dinner sank most of the decanterof port. Finally, after a strained evening the moment she had been tk dreadingarrived and they retired to bed.

Aided by what he had imbibed, her husband dropped off tosleep immediately. For Lady de Lacy sleep was impossible. She passed severalwoebegone hours; first reading, then-as the candle guttered out and the waitingdarkness conquered the room, she simply lay in silent, expectant terror.

Now the sound she dreaded had returned. The Banshee's wailtore the night's stillness again and Lady de Lacy thought her heart would seizein her chest. She could bear it no more. Her terror overcame her desperate fearfor her husband's weak heart and she gave him a hefty kick.

"Patrick! It's back. Listen!"

Lord de Lacy woke with a confused "Mwah?" and satbolt upright. For a second he stared at his wife in a mixture of annoyance andanger, then he swung his considerable bulk, still clad in his linen nightshirt,out of bed. He was about to say something when the weird wail came a third time.This time, however, also came the unmistakable sound of horses' hooves,accompanied by the rattle of iron-rimmed wheels on gravel, echoing up thedriveway outside.

A carriage was approaching the castle.

"Bloody Hell....." Lord de Lacy breathed.

"Patrick darling." Lady de Lacy whined. "it'sthe Banshee!"

From what she could see in the silver moonlight, Lord deLacy looked genuinely worried. Then his usual character re-asserted itself anda look of annoyed resolve came over his face.

"Right," he said. "Let's sort this out onceand for all."

With that, still wearing his nightgown and cap, he strodeout of the bedroom.

Lady de Lacy ran after him, wringing her hands in worriedterror.

"What are you going to do?" she squeaked.

"I'm going to replace out what the hell is going on!"Lord de Lacy said.

"Oh please be careful dear. This is not good for yourheart!" his wife begged as they swept down the darkened staircase and intothe moonlit hall. Without hesitation, Lord de Lacy unlocked the heavy woodenfront door of the castle and swung it open.

He stopped. A little gasp escaped the lips of his wife.

Outside the front door of the Castle stood a black coach.Four coal-black horses stood in its traces, impatiently stamping their feet.The windows of the coach seemed to be made of smoked glass, making itimpossible to see inside. There was no sign of any driver. As they watched, thedoor of the carriage opened slowly and swung wide, as if in invitation for Lordde Lacy to enter. The interior of the carriage was black as pitch. Nothingcould be discerned inside. An strange white fog rolled out from inside thecoach and spilt into a pool onto the ground.

Lord de Lacy made as if to walk forward.

"No! Don't go in there," his wife implored, tearsnow streaking down her face.

Lord de Lacy stopped and clutched a hand to his chest, awince of sudden pain creasing his face.

Almostimmediately the awful cry of the banshee split the night air again.