Speaker 1: Hello you. This is just a quick intro for this episode.
We don't need to go into great detail because it's
pretty simple really. We're back on Henry Verlaine's Gulf Stream
jet in the company of Underwood and Flinch, and we're
picking up the story pretty much where we left it
off last time, So let's just get straight into it.
The Underwood and Flinch Saga written and performed for podcast
by Mike Bennett. Season seven, The Devil of Claverton, Episode three.
This podcast is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion
is advised. It was approximately an hour later when David,
having showered and changed into a fresh outfit, resumed his
seat opposite Underwood. He had chosen a pair of Bermuda shorts,
Wiran shirt, and a pair of new trainers minus socks.
Everything fitted him comfortably, since there had been plenty of
clothes and sizes to choose from. As the steward Tim
had explained, there were more frequent flyers on Verlaine's planes
than just the Master himself. Underwood had fallen asleep with
his head set on his tiny TV, threw a flickering
light unto his face. David leaned across and turned the
TV around to see what he had been watching. On screen,
old colored footage of President Nixon cut away to troops
fighting in the Vietnam War. He found the power button
on the side of the TV and switched it off immediately.
Underwood awoke. Ah flinch, he said, removing his headset. Then,
realizing what David was wearing, remarked, Hello, going to Carnival
are we? I thought was probably a good call given
a climate we're heading too. David stretched his lily white
legs out into the aisle and crossed them at the ankles.
Underwood raised his eyebrows. Where are your socks? David looked
at his ankles as if wandering the same thing, then replied,
people don't wear socks with shorts anymore. It's not cool,
isn't it. Indeed? Is it comfortable? Sure? As comfortable as
with socks. Well, yeah, when it's hot, it's more comfortable.
I find that hard to believe. Well, perhaps you should
try it sometime. I don't think so. Underwood snorted. Deck shoes, yes,
but not those what have they even called? They're not climsels?
Are they trainers? They're sports shoes. They're very colorful Yeah,
David admired his trainers. They are aren't they? They're Nikes.
I'd never buy anything like these myself. Too expensive. I'm
more of a prim Mark kind of guy, you know.
Underwood did not know. He had no idea what either
Nikes or prime Mark were, nor was he interested. He
turned up his nose. David smiled, you don't like him now,
too gaudy for my taste. Spoken like a true undertaker.
David sat back and perused Underwood's new outfit. He wore
a double breasted navy blue blazer with gilt buttons over
a blue and white Gingham checked shirt, a pair of
cream cotton trousers with a black leather belt, and a
pair of light brown loafers with socks beige ones. Speaking
of which, I've never seen you looking so unfewnereal. Did
you pick that out yourself? Yes, with a little help
from Tim. As you know, I'm somewhat out of touch
with currant fashions, but I am told this is quite
ala mode. I take it you didn't ask for his advice. No,
I didn't need it, Underwood chuckle, bless you flinch. You
really have no sartorial instinct whatsoever. Do you Well, I
think that's a matter of opinion, my lord. All I
know for sure is when we reach our destination, I
will be nice and cool, Yes, nice and cool and blistered.
You should put some socks on. Those things will chave.
I'll be all right, And they look as if they'll
smell too. Sweaty feet, plastic shoes not a good combination.
They're not plastic. Look, they're breathable, all right. Modern shoe
technology you wouldn't understand, and you clearly don't understand that
where we're going, the last thing you'll want is blistered feet.
David frowned. What why? Well, it's possible you may need
to run, run as him run away. Possibly, I don't know.
But like I told you, Verlaine's team aren't My team
doesn't pay to be too relaxed to completely lower your guard.
But going by the call you had with him earlier,
you two seem pretty pally seemed. Yes, we also seem
human to the casual observer, but we're not. She and
I are not so much pals as we are. What's
one of the Mitford sisters? Whilst termed frenemies, do you
know the word, Yeah, people still say it I suppose
it's also a good word to describe me and Lydia.
Saying her name summoned the memory of Lydia frolicking on
Verlaine's yacht. Jesus, that was weird, wasn't it seeing her
alive on that boat? Were you surprised to see her alive? Now?
Lydia's will to live, to be the creature she so
desperately wanted to become, so much so that she almost
killed me in order to become it is considerably greater
than mine. And I got off that roof alive, so
it stands to reason and she would have done the same.
But I was surprised to see her with Verlaine. I'm
not sure what's going on there. She certainly seemed to
be friendly with him, even if he wasn't quite so
friendly with her. Yes, well, I dare say we'll find
out soon enough. David nodded thoughtfully, then, after a moment, said,
I was shocked to see her alive. I honestly thought
she was dead. Oh how do you feel about it now?
I don't know. I haven't really had time to process
it yet. I mean, if I'm honest, I was sort
of glad she was dead. After what she'd done to us,
to dame O, to Michelle and her daughter, she went
full psycho and it was a relief not to have
to worry about her anymore, especially since she's become a vampire.
But he scratched his head. I don't know. She's my sister,
isn't she We haven't been close for years, but she's
still He was going to say family, but found he couldn't.
Your friendemy said under with a smile. Yeah, though more
enemy than friend, especially since that business in Spain. So
her death wouldn't bother you. Her death what do you mean? Well,
as you know, Verlaine wants me to judge her for
what she did to me, indeed to both of us.
If it were anyone else who tried to kill me,
it would be an easy decision. But she is a flinch.
So what are you saying that you want me to
decide if she lives or dies. No, I'm asking for
your opinion on the matter. The ultimate choice will be mine.
But what about the whole no flinch shall bleed thing? Ah,
that's only a promise that I won't literally feed on
a member of your family, not that I won't kill
one should they ever turn against me as she has done.
Lydia has broken our code. She tried to kill me,
and very nearly did. Therefore it falls to me to
judge whether she lives or dies. Yeah, but she didn't
know about the code, did she? I mean, how could
she have done? Murder is a crime in any society. Flinch.
I think it's fair to say she didn't give a
damn or right? Yeah, but does the sentence have to
be death? I mean, can't you just send us there's
some kind of I don't know, jail time. Oh, I
can't imagine vampires have prisons. Do they show me the
cage that can hold a creature capable of becoming missed?
And it'll be the first I've ever seen. If there's
a way for air to get in, there's a way
for a vampire to get out. So no, there are
no vampire prisons. So it has to be life or death.
Then Underwood nodded gravely. David closed his eyes and shook
his head, pressing a hand to it as if he
were suddenly developing a headache. I don't know, I can't,
I can't do that. I'm against the death penalty. Just
as any compassionate human being would be. The idea is
abhorrent to me. But but part of David wanted to
say what he felt, what his sense of self preservation
was shouting behind a closed door in his mind. Fuck,
compassion killed the bitch. He personally wouldn't have to do it.
Someone else would, and it was bound to be humane.
But still, hypothetically, if he were the one who had
to do it, if it were his finger on the
button that would terminate Lydia's life, could he really do it?
Could he kill his own sister? I don't know, he said,
turning his face aside. It's your call, whatever you decide.
Very well, David immediately turned back to him. Really, what
are you going to do? I don't know. I think
I should hear her defense before I make that decision.
What defense? You know what she did and why she
did it. Yes, but it's normal in civilized societies to
at least give the accused a chance to make their case,
isn't it. Surely you, a compassionate human being that you are,
would agree. Well, yeah, yeah, of course, but Underwood smiled archly. Yes, Well,
she can be very persuasive, can't she? A flash? Of
memory he and Lydia teenagers at Cassa Underward, her hand
on his thigh, closing her eyes as she leaned close
to him, her lips parting as he pushed it away,
but in its place another memory, Lydia crawling towards him
across the floor of Sergey's office, her mouth and chin
dark with blood. I know you want me, David. You
never stopped wanting me, did you, he shuddered. You know
that as well as anybody. I do, indeed, But fear not, Flinch.
I didn't get where I am today without being able
to turn off my emotions, when as a harry it
makes killing so much easier. All right, then, well let's
just both of us give it some thought, as you say,
jolly good. Underwood leaned out into the aisle and raised
the hands of the cabin staff. A moment later, Gabriella
appeared at this side another sangua vita for me, please, Gabriella,
And for you, Flinch, just a glass of water, please, Gabriella.
Gabriella left, and Underwood turned back to David, still sticking
with the abstinence as good for you. Yeah, well that's
what I was doing before I had the shock of
you enter in my life. Now that you're a part
of it, and that I'm acclimatized, so to speak, I
reckon I can manage without it. Again, Underwood chuckled, I
had hardly described the manner in which you handled the
job of guardian while drunk managing, but I take your point.
I'm happy to hear that I'm no longer a cause
for such management techniques. Gabriella returned with their drinks. They
waited until she had left before Underwood, after a sip
of sangue, Vita, said, so you say that when you
finished slistening to Arthur's tape recordings, Matthias and I were
off the coast of Virginia. Correct. Yeah, Vlaine's ship was
sunk and you left them to the sharks, and Matthias
was pissed off with you because he thought you'd become
possessed by a Maru's god spirit thing vampire yees. Underwood amused, Yes,
he did, poor lad, but still he had his reasons.
I'd been away from England for the better part of
a year by then, and by God, what a journey
had had been to not just a voyage from London
to Virginia. But the journey from human to vampire. While
the first of those was nearly over, the second was
really only just beginning. Matthias was, as you say, afraid
of what I had become, But so was I, not
in the way Matthias was. Obviously, I knew I hadn't
been possessed by umpire. I was still very much my
own man and fully in control of my actions. It
was me who'd made the decision to leave Verlaine and
his cutthroats to the sharks, not some who dun spirit,
and I'd done it for the most practical reason. There
was survival. I mean, if we'd taken them aboard, they
would have tried to overpower and kill us, simple as that.
We'd already incurred Verlaine's wrath by killing Rudge and his
mates after we'd escaped from the Fortuna, but now we'd
gone and blown the same ship the Kingdom come those
survivors would have been absolutely mad for revenge, and there
was no way that Catesby's crew were cut out for
a scrap like that. Neither was Matthias. And whilst I
might perhaps have been able to defeat them using all
my vampiric powers. I couldn't stay awake and watch them
twenty four hours a day, could I? No, of course not.
Now there was no other choice. It would have made
as much sense to take a pack of ravening wolves
on board. You see that, don't you flinch? He looked
to David for agreement. Oh, yeah, definitely, I would have
done the same thing in your situation. Underwood raised his eyebrows,
would you, David shrugged, Yeah, absolutely, Like you said, They'd
almost certainly have tried to kill you. Damn right they would.
Katsby knew Verlaine he regularly surrounded to him anytime they
crossed paths, So had Veline even so much as blinked
the evil eye at him, and the rotten nosed cur
would have filled his breches and released him in an instant,
as would any of his crew. David nodded, Yeah, you
don't have to convince me, my lord. I'm with you
one hundred percent. David spoke without thinking about it too Philosophically.
He'd already had to imagine himself into the position of
being Lydia's executioner. He didn't want to have to do
it again over a matter settled three hundred years ago.
So what did you do? You were off the coast
of America. Underwood smiled and took a sip of his drink. Yes,
the chess Peak Bay. What a sight for sore eyes.
That was Matthias was avoiding me like a whip dog.
So I sought out the company of Maroon and Catesby.
I asked the latter where ships bearing cargoes of convicts
tended to make port. He said it could be any
number of places, but the nearest was Norfolk, so that
was where we headed. He asked me if I was
in the market for a convict myself, and I told
him no, I was trying to locate one that had
already been sold. I asked him where I'd go about
doing such a thing, Sleeve Auction said, he sounded simple enough,
But then Maru reminded me that Ktesby had said ships
put in a number of ports, more than one port,
more than one market place, and he should know he'd
been sold in one. Katesby confirmed as much, and added
that these sort of auctions didn't take place every day either.
They weren't like Woolworth's open Monday as Saturday from nine
to five. If there was no one to be sold,
there was no market. This complicated things. It meant that
we'd have to track down the slave merchants in each
area and question them individually, somewhere that wasn't their place
of work, with access to whatever records they might have had.
I was now realizing that a significant task lay ahead,
one that could go on for potentially months before I
even found the person responsible for Martha's sale, and even
then there was no guarantee that he'd remember who she
was or to whom he'd sold her. Underwood shook his
head and smiled ruefully. You know, as silly as it sounds,
I hadn't realized till then that finding Martha could actually
be difficult. I thought there'd be one major port servicing
the whole colony, with one slave market, and in it
only one or two merchants who would tell me everything
I needed to know, and then off I'd go to
get her, he chuckled. But don't judge me too harshly.
This was the year seventeen nineteen. There was no means
of researching anything, at least not for the likes of me.
Back then, there were no public libraries full of maps
and books with color photos. There were no films or
television documentaries you could just call up like magic on
machines like this. It tapped the small fold away TV
monitor before him, and there were certainly no internets Internet corrected,
David what. Sorry to interrupt, my lord, but it's a
mistake you make regularly. I wanted to mention it before
you go on. I forget to correct you again. It's
Internet singular. There's only one of them, no, so not nets,
no ibe. You don't mind me pointing it out. If
it were a trivial thing, you know, i'd let it go.
But I think it's important that you don't make that
mistake in front of the Lane or any of his mates.
You know, they might think that I'm thick. David shrugged,
let's say uninformed. Quite so well down flinch. That's precisely
the sort of thing I pay you for, so to speak.
But yes, so long as it's just the two of us,
do feel free to correct the other mistakes I might make.
Anyway back to my story, So as I was saying,
we the English peasantry, and I dare say a good
deal of the toffs too, didn't have a bull's notion
of what America was actually like. All we had was
hearsay stories, and prior to leaving England i'd heard plenty
of those. Broadly speaking, they boiled down to two basic varieties.
The first told of a wonderful place, a promised land
of milk and honey, very much like England, only better,
where even a pauper who'd owned hundreds of acres of
fertile farmland, provided of course, that he sign up for
a period of indentured servitude beforehand, while the second told
a very different story on that prominently featured a hell
on earth shithole called Jamestown, a place surrounded by jungle
that teemed with head hunting savages, where disease was rife
and the life expectancy was a fraction of even the
worst slum in England. Now, the fact that England had
been forcibly sending there since Elizabethan times, few of whom
ever returned, had led me to believe the latter account
was more likely the case, and that the former was
just a myth peddled by the Virginia Company to entice
mugs into servitude. So I had been braced for the
worst However, over the course of my voyage, I'd learned
that these hair raising accounts of Jamestown were based on
the early Elizabethan settlement rather than the later one. But
even that was past relevance now, since it had been
burnt to the ground some forty years or so earlier,
and the capital of the colony moved to a place
called Williamsburg. Now it turned out that it was true
that one could secure acres of land provided that one
volunteered for indentured servitude. Not hundreds of acres, mind you,
I think it was more like five. But still it
was a pretty good deal if you could survive your
period of bondage, which a lot didn't because they weren't
able to cope with the work and climate. And that's why, incidentally,
some bright spark hit upon the idea of using Africans
as slaves, not only with their accustomed to hot weather,
but you didn't have to give them any land the
end of their service, because their service had no end.
But anyway, I digress back to my predicament. I had
retired to my cabin to think about how I a
creature of the night, utterly combustible in sunlight, was going
to seek out slave merchants and chase up any leads
to Martha in a world where practically all commerce took
place in the hours of daylight. Matthias hated me, so
I couldn't count on his support, and Marou, a runaway
slave whom most people would assume as exactly that unless
he was in the company of a white master, was
as well as free to go around asking questions about
indentured white women as he was to purchase one, marry her,
and settle down on a nice little farm somewhere underwood side.
I was considering the possibility of pressing a couple of
Catesby's rogues into my service, which was a truly rubbish
IDEA Dear, when there came a knocking at my door.
It was Matthias, and as I had anticipated, he wasn't
there to offer a hand. I wished to part ways.
He said he'd been drinking, and I think that gave
him the pluck to come in and see me. But
he wouldn't look me in the eye. You always said,
if I ever wanted to go my own way, you'd
give me a share of the monster's treasure. And so
I'm here to ask for it. I didn't need to
ask why, but I did, And then he did look
at me, his face incredulous. Why the deful do you think,
he pointed back to the cabin door. You just left
men to an unbelievably horrific death. Men you knew that
you once called shipmate. I never called any of them shipmate,
said I. They were my jailers, just as they were yours. No,
only Verlaine kept us there. The majority of the men
in the water were well, some of them were just
like us. No, they weren't, Matthias, I said, keeping my
voice and manner as reasonable as I could, for I
knew he was fearful of me. They chose to be there,
They liked the life, and they were loyal to Verlaine.
If we'd pick them up, they would have got free
and strung us up by our thumbs. You think Ktesby
or any of his dogs would have dared defy an
order from Velaine. At least they'd have had free will,
to which is more than they've got with you. Look, John,
it doesn't bloody matter anymore. They're dead. What's done is done,
But what's going to be done? That's what scares me.
And I don't want any part of it, so I'll
be going my ways when we make port, whether you're
true to your word about divvying up the treasure or not.
I was hurt by this, of course, but as I say,
not surprised. I said. I thought we were friends, that
you were going to help me with this, this affliction
that has befallen me. I expected a modicum of sympathy here,
perhaps even contrition, But I didn't get it. We, he exclaimed,
Who's we, John, or should I say vampire? Who am
I even talking to right now? Eh? Oh, for God's sake,
I shouted angry at him. Now, I am not bloody vampire.
I only told the man that when we came back
from wrecking the Fortuna to scare them into lowering their weapons,
they were ready to shoot us. Boy, what was I
supposed to say? I had a split second to decide
how to stop them, and so I'd used the only
weapon that I had. Fear all right, but what about
leaving Vilene and his crew to the sharks back there?
There's such a thing as the law of the sea,
you know. Oh the hell with the law of the sea.
I'd just blown up their ship, just as you and
your Royal Navy pals would have done given half the chance.
But you'd have done it with cannons and at a
considerably safer distance. The Navy wouldn't have left survivors in
the water, No, it would have picked them up, clapped
them in irons, and stowed them in a formidable brig
before bringing them into port, trying them for piracy and
hanging every man jack of them in the town square.
Is that your law of the sea, Matthias, to rescue
only to kill later in some masquerade of civility. I
hadn't known how angry I actually was with him until
that moment. I mean, how bloody dare he? I was
Underwood stopped and took a steadying breath before continuing, If
I'm honest, I was wounded by the accusation that I
was not my own self, that what I had done
in order to save both our lives was so heinous
that only a demon could have done it. He shook
his head, his emotions clearly rekindled by the memories. So
I said to him, rising from my chair back on
the island, the creature that snatched me from the beach
and did this to me. He didn't choose me because
I in some way deserved it, not anymore than it
had done the men it snatched before me. It was
a predator feeding on us, work its way through us
one by one. On that night it took me, But
it could just as easily have been you, Matthias. And
don't you know that if I hadn't killed it the
very next night, it would have been you. I let
that sink in before adding. But I did kill it,
and so you got to live, not to cursed like
I now am, but free to pass your damn judgment
on me, to call me a monster, a demon, when
all I've done, all I've ever done, is to keep
you safe. But fine, I'd gone to where I kept
my treasure chair secreted and brought it back to the table,
where I now flipped it open. I pulled out a
handful of gold and jewels and flung them at him. There,
take your share of what I have in place of
my immortal soul, and fuck off. Underwood took a drink.
Then he shook his head. It's no use. I'm going
to need something stronger if I'm going to relive all this.
He put down the sanguevita and called down the aisle,
anyone bring me a bottle of brandy and a glass.
In the adjacent section of the plane, Claire Redmond, who
had been listening to Underwood's account whilst feigning sleep, opened
her eyes as if Underwood's shout had awoken her. Underwood
met her eyes and looked away. His emotions still turbulent,
David waited, saying nothing until after the brandy had been
delivered and Underwood had taken a drink. Then he ventured,
so what did Matthias do? Then Underwood seemed to weigh
his words for a moment, then said what else could
he do? He apologized It was quite upsetting for him.
You know. You have to remember he was just a
lad fourteen or maybe by then fifteen. He thought he'd
lost his friend to some evil demon, and now well
he realized he hadn't. I hadn't meant to be quite
so harsh with him, but dash it all, I'm human too,
you know, sort of. Anyway, he thanked me for all
I'd done, and apologized too for what I'd lost, and
then we shook hands. He pledged to remain at my
side and do all he could to help me find Martha.
Underwood took a sip of his drink. I didn't show it,
but I was mightily relieved. I can tell you. The
only thing he asked of me in return was an
assurance that I'd seek the help of a priest in
order to rid myself of what I begrudgingly acknowledged could
be a case of demonic possession. I agreed I would,
but only once I'd found Martha. We shook on it
and then drank to our renewed purpose with a few
glasses of Catesby's personal bottle of rum. Why, Waite asked David,
why not just go to a priest as soon as
you reach Port, Because it was a completely mad idea.
Of course, Really turn up at some church and announce
that I was possessed by a demon. All that would
have achieved would have me being burnt at the stake,
or at least them having a jolly good go at it. Again,
you must remember the era we're in, Flinch. This was
the early eighteenth century. Witchcraft and satanic possession were as
real to people then as this plane is to us now.
The Salem witch Trials had only taken place twenty five
years earlier, the embers of the bonfires were barely cold. Blimey, yes, blimey,
and so no, I couldn't afford to risk stirring up
that kind of hornet's nest, having an angry swarm of
Bible waving fanatics chasing me around the country, torches blazing
and screaming. Demon. Demon. And I made that clear to Matthias.
But I said, once I'd found Martha and delivered her
from bondage, then yes I would see a priest, but
on my own terms and in such a way that
he wouldn't be a risk to me or Martha or
anyone else. And did you all in good time? Flinch
Underwood with a smile, All in good time? And so
Underwood's resumption of his origin tale has begun. How did
he and his friends locate Martha? How did Verlaine become
a vampire? And did Underwood ever see a priest about
his condition? Stay tuned, my friends to the ongoing saga
of Underwood and Flinch. So yes, there it was listeners,
season seven, episode three, And I hope you enjoyed it.
I don't have a tremendous amount of news, you know.
I'm still working on the pilot and all that sort
of thing. Nothing's really going to happen until the new
year with that, So that's about it. Really, nothing else
going on. Thank you for listening. And if you want
to continue this Underwood and Flinch adventure free of ads,
why not head on over to my Patreon and continue
it there. It's still after all these years, only three
dollars a month or the equivalent currency in your country.
Oh what a good idea. You're so clever and so strong.
Thank you so much. Yes, I have been known to
do a push up every now and again, and well
it pays dividends. Less is more, that's what I say. Right,
So time to go. Thank you for listening, and don't
forget to share Underwood and Flinch with any other podcast
listeners you know, And if they resist, simply tell them
that it's one awards. Tell them that it was optioned
for five years by Village Roadshow. Don't necessarily mention the
fact that nothing came of it, but do tell them,
you know, yes, it was, it was option for five years.
Tell them there's well over one hundred episodes. Tell them, oh,
just tell them it's fab and I like it. Do
you like it. I like it. So isn't that good enough?
Damn it right? Good? Shut up, Mike, Time to go.
As always, my friends, it has been a pleasure, but
from me for now, until the moon rises again over
Underwood and Flinch, take care and farewell.