Weirder Shadows Over Innsmouth

Now certain of the monks, hoping to draw greater quantities of the sweet water to be found in the well, had descended into its depths to dig deeper and uncover new springs. But in so doing they had awakened the demons who had lain dormant in caverns beneath the well for many centuries. They had troubled their unholy sleep and awakened their anger. And these demons had arisen from the well to bring destruction on the monks and the people of Morchester. The monks were tormented by ill dreams and by odours as of fish putrefying. Women of the town began to give birth to all manner of abominations: infants with two heads, and mouths in their fundaments, horns upon their head, many arms but without hands; and one had the face of a great serpent. Such was their consternation that the whole people cried out to Anselm to deliver them from terrors by night and abominations by day.

Then did the Blessed Anselm pronounce absolution for the sins of the whole people. Having done so, the Archbishop, taking his staff of office which contained a reliquary holding a fragment of the true cross and a thumbnail of St. Paul, ordered the monks to let him down into the depths of the well. There Blessed Anselm remained for seven days and seven nights alone wrestling with the spawn of Hell and in particularly the chief of these demons whose name was—[Here the manuscript has been corrected, scratched out and altered several times so that the name is unclear. My best guess is Dagonus.]

After seven days and seven nights Blessed Anselm commanded that he be lifted out of the well for he had vanquished the demons therein. Thereupon he commanded that a lid of oak bound with iron be placed over the well and that no person should thereafter remove it, and that new wells be dug to the north of the Abbey. And moreover, Anselm blessed the waters of the Orr [the river that flows past Morchester] so that water might be drawn from it in safety. And he commanded that a great cathedral be erected in place of the Abbey Church for all the people, and that this cathedral be consecrated to St. Michael the Archangel, the vanquisher of demons, and St. George, the slayer of dragons.

It was only after Anselm’s official canonisation in 1494 that the Cathedral was rededicated to him. This was not such a radical act as it might seem because it was simply sanctioning local practice. The building had long been known by the inhabitants of Morchester as “Anselm’s Cathedral”.

I suspect that there is a tiny core of truth in this absurd fable: namely that the well is very old indeed, which the presence of Roman brickwork confirms. It is just possible also that, as the text suggests, the well had at some stage become contaminated by seawater from an underground source. Hence also the stench of rotting fish?

I cannot help being intrigued by the coincidence—and it is only a coincidence!—that Cutbirth’s little sect is called the Order of Dagon, and Anselm’s main adversary in the well was Dagonus.

SEPTEMBER 15TH

I have given the Dean a précis of my findings and he has agreed that the well should be opened up and surveyed. Bertie is in a state of high excitement and jumping up and down at the prospect of what he insists on calling “an archaeological dig”. I remind him that no digging will be involved, just the descent into a well which may, after all, be filled with rubbish, but nothing dampens Bertie. He clamours to be part of the “adventure”.

A strange thing happened today. While I was in the cloister discussing the opening of the well with the Clerk of Works, a boy came up to me and handed me a letter. It was one of the town boys, I think, certainly very scruffy, and before I could speak to him he had run off.

Inside the envelope was a piece of stiff card, like an invitation. It had been expensively engraved with the heading: ORDO TEMPLI DAGONIS (Order of the Temple of Dagon). Below this was an elaborate design, rather well executed but curiously unpleasant. Within a fancy baroque cartouche was a drawing of a figure crouched on a throne. I say figure because it was not wholly human nor wholly bestial, but something in-between. It seemed to be in an attitude of deep and trancelike thought, but its outward appearance was savage. Curious tentacles drooped over its mouth-parts. It reminded me somewhat of the Dean’s knocker, but I did not study it long. Below it in capitals was written:

DO NOT MEDDLE WITH THE ANCIENT AND INFINITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The sender can only be Cutbirth.

SEPTEMBER 21ST