Chapter 3

The years passed and Virgil continued to write in his journals, although now they dealt with day to day life. Vian and Ilona’s studies expanded into areas that interested them. Vian became a scholar of languages and history while Ilona studied medicine. She could have gone to medical school but chose instead to get some experience with a local doctor, Peter Alcott, to see what aspect of the profession she liked best. He was a helper of long-standing with the other community, and Harry introduced her as his niece. She became an apprentice nurse under his guidance.

Harry continued to ensure Irena and Virgil lacked for nothing, but they asked for little. Irena had learned to knit and crochet, and in exchange for the remnant balls of wool and old pullovers which she unravelled, she gave some of her work to Harry for Vincent’s community. It gave her comfort to know that something from her hands was near Vincent, perhaps even worn by him.

When she learned Vincent went Above often, risking detection, she made a dark, long hooded cloak with wide roll-up sleeves from pieces of scrap leather and wool. She poured all the love she had into each stitch, willed it to protect its wearer. She made another for her son Vian, who was also curious about the world he could never see in daylight.

Irena learned from Harry that the cloak had become Vincent’s second skin. He wore it even on trips around the tunnels – in fact any time he left his own chamber. She made a more feminine one for Ilona from dark leather scraps and an old black velvet dress Harry gave her one day. In these enclosing garments, her two children did go above together, but never far away or for very long. Vian liked to visit a man who was watchman at a library and who let him borrow books. He had an interesting story, she learned. The man had lived in the distant tunnel community, but had been injured during a collapse and could not bear to be below ground anymore. Irena wondered about that collapse. Could that have been the one they felt and sought out?

Vian and Ilona had been told of their brother, but understood the necessity of their separation. Like his father, Vian was not overly curious about the world above, nor inclined to roam far. He preferred to live that life in books. The two of them spent hours discussing what they read.

…

Irena gradually became aware that Virgil was no longer feeling as energetic as he had been. True, they were both getting older, but something else seemed to be at work. He was often in pain and that pain was getting worse. Soon, it became obvious his joints were becoming arthritic. His hair began to grow in grey.

Then came the day that Irena was forced turn inwards and push any thoughts of the other community from her mind. When Vian was in his early 30s and his father not yet 60, Virgil became bedridden for long periods. Even Ilona, now a new doctor in her own right, thanks to Peter’s sponsorship, could not determine what was wrong. He had little appetite and slept a great deal.

Over the next several months he lost a lot of weight and his hair turned to white. Irena knew he was in pain and his breathing was sometimes very laboured. She could feel his exhaustion and held him through the long nights, sending her love and strength to him along their bond. One night she feared he would breathe his last.

That galvanized her. She asked Ilona to bring Dr Alcott. Perhaps he had some insight or there was some medication that could help. Since he was a helper to the other community, he would be trustworthy. They could no longer maintain their isolation.

Peter, when he visited the family in their chamber hideout, could not contain his astonishment. He heard their history, in brief, with amazement. Why had Ilona not told him? Irena explained, gently, that they had thought it best in light of the dangers presented by Paracelsus.

Peter then told them that particular danger was over. Almost a year ago, Vincent, driven to distraction by the man’s lies and more than once a victim of his malicious intent, had killed him as they fought in Father’s chamber. Paracelsus had been disguised as Father while Jacob was tied up in an apartment Above, left to die. He had been found by Catherine, a woman Vincent had saved.

But Vincent himself had not come out unscarred and had nearly died of madness until Catherine had saved him in turn. He had recovered and was now living with his Catherine in a converted brownstone she had bought for them. They had a young child.

Irena was pleased to hear the news. Virgil’s illness had prevented her from even thinking about Vincent. She had not even tried to feel him through their bond. Now she wished she had – and that she had kept better informed of the other community.

Peter treated Virgil as best he could with vitamins and medication for arthritis, then took a blood sample. Virgil began to put on weight and gained strength, although he was a shadow of his former self and still tired easily. Peter quietly had a lab examine the blood, and swore them to secrecy. With Ilona’s help he told them what had been discovered - that Virgil’s illness was not one which could be cured. He was suffering from premature ageing.

Peter felt strongly that it was time for the family to be re-united and in this he was supported by Irena. It would be a shock to the tunnel community, but Peter offered to act as liaison. A few days later, he told Irena that Vincent and Catherine had extended an invitation. The family discussed it and decided that Irena should go alone for this first meeting.

Leaving Virgil that day, and seeing the hope in his eyes, Irena gave him a deep kiss. Her throat was tight and she was near to tears as Peter escorted her to the brownstone’s tunnel entrance. She got herself under control as they went upstairs to where Vincent and Catherine waited in a room cozy with books and a roaring fireplace. Peter made the introductions.

Irena looked at her son and had to hold onto herself to keep from running to him. He had grown into a man like his father and brother. Peter had not told revealed much, other than that there was a special family who wanted to meet them.

Vincent seemed to sense the turmoil in Irena and rose to hug her. She melted into his chest and began to cry. She pulled herself away reluctantly, unable to trust her voice.

Catherine then took her hand and led her to a couch where she could hold her hand and calm her. Vincent didn’t seem to know what to do next. He stood in the centre of the room looking puzzled, sensing something about this woman he could not put into words.

Irena looked from one face to the other, finally resting on Vincent.

"I’m sorry, Vincent, Catherine. I … I don’t know where to begin. Perhaps I should just say it. Vincent, you are my son, a twin to my son Vian and brother to my daughter Ilona. My husband Virgil Gilchrist is your father. I came here because Virgil is ill and dying a slow death of old age. He isn’t yet 60. I wanted our family to be re-united before it’s too late."

Vincent was stunned and stared at Irena. Catherine could sense confusion vying with elation. She got up and put her arm around him.

"How," he managed to whisper over Catherine’s head. "How did you avoid us all these years?"

"We did meet once, Vincent, when you were a boy."

Vincent started and looked at Irena closely. She had a long scar on her cheek and suddenly that old incident came back to him.

"The kitten," he said. "I gave you the kitten that Devin and I had found. You’re Irena."

"Yes Vincent."

"But where have you and your family been living, Irena? And why?"

Peter broke in at this point.

"Vincent, one of our helpers, Harry, kept them informed and helped them considerably – still does. They’ve been living in a chamber far from here since just after you and your brother were born. When they learned of Paracelsus, they decided it was best they remain isolated, for their own protection. I told them a few days ago that the danger is now over."

"But why was I abandoned," Vincent asked quietly, unable to prevent himself from asking the question which most haunted him.

Irene dropped her head and spoke softly.

"I was desperate, Vincent. I had just given birth and I had to travel across New York to join Virgil. My life was in danger from a religious group I had joined. I knew I could carry one child under my coat, but not two. I wrapped you well and left you where the tunnel scavengers would find you. They were close by. I’ve felt you through the years. I have an empathic connection with all my children – but strongest with Virgil. I knew you were well and happy – but oh, I did want to see you. That’s why you met me so long ago."

"I remember feeling unusual when I looked at you," Vincent said quietly. "Many years later, Father showed me the blanket he had kept – the thick one you wrapped me in first. I knew then that you had loved me. It gave me great solace to know that, but I also sensed fear. Now I understand."

Vincent made a decision. He was uncharacteristically impatient – but there was no reason to wait.

"May I see my father now, today, Irena? I feel it’s already been too long and I … well, I won’t be able to think of anything else until I’ve seen him."

Irena smiled at this big son of hers.

"Of course you may Vincent. Vian is with him now and Ilona can probably be spared from Peter’s clinic for a little while."

"I’ll bring her," Peter offered, then to Vincent’s amazed and almost accusing look, continued in a hurt voice.

"Vincent, I’ve only known about them a very short time. Ilona never mentioned her family. Harry said she was his niece. I was as shocked as you."

Catherine looked at Vincent and decided he should go alone for this first meeting. She had baby Jacob to feed soon, and she was sure there would be other opportunities to meet this new family. She could wait.

"Vincent, you must go now. I’ll see them all another time."

Vincent gave Catherine a kiss before giving Irena his arm. Peter left to bring Ilona.

To Vincent, the walk to the far side of the tunnel network was tortuously long. Irena, although healthy and fit, did not have his stride. He made himself take note of the tunnels as they entered less familiar territory. It was amazing that he had not known about this family. He thought he had seen every tunnel.

But then they rounded a corner to face a blank brick wall and Vincent at last understood. Irena touched a brick and the wall rotated quietly on a centre pivot. She looked up at him.

"Virgil did this. It’s one of the many safeguards he created. He was a very strong man once. I wish you could have seen him then – but you are very like him, Vincent. He will be thrilled to see you. And his mind is unimpaired. He’s a remarkable man – the only man I have ever loved."

Irena and Vincent entered a section of tunnels that had been well-cared for and were lit by small beams of natural light. Vincent guessed the effect was done with mirrors, but the work involved humbled him. Kanin’s jaw would drop if he saw this!

They rounded large stone outcrop and Irena led the way down a set of narrow steps. The chamber Vincent entered took his breath away. It was exquisite, there was no better word. It had been smoothly excavated and lovingly paneled with woods of every kind. The light, again, was indirect and reflected. Candles sat on nearby ledges, awaiting darkness in the world Above.

But all this, Vincent took in at a glance. What riveted his attention was a large bed, and the man who lay in it, propped up on pillows, his eyes closed. His white hair flowed over the pillow and around his unique face. A man sitting next to the bed on a chair stood up as they came in and smiled at them both. Vincent had to stop and take a deep breath. It was like looking at himself!

He got his muscles moving and approached his brother and father for the first time. His heart was racing. Without preamble, Vian moved to gather Vincent into a tight hug. Irena took a chair on the other side of the bed and watched quietly, her mouth turned up in a gentle smile. Vian spoke first.

"Brother. I’m so glad you could come." He spoke a little louder. "Father, look. We have a special visitor."

The man on the bed opened his eyes and they widened as he saw the two brothers side by side.

Vincent immediately approached him and took a hand, noting with amazement that it was even larger than his own, although the knuckles were swollen with arthritis.

Virgil looked at him and smiled.

"You must be my son Vincent."

His voice was a soft rasp and his words were carefully pronounced. Vincent’s own, when he finally got his tongue to work, was almost as quiet.

‘Yes. You are someone I had never thought to meet. I can hardly believe it, even now. I had always thought myself unique, alone in my difference. And then to find that I have a twin brother and a sister as well – to say nothing of a mother and father … I’m … I don’t know what to say."

Virgil dropped his eyes, his face sad. "I’m afraid we are at fault for not allowing you that knowledge before now. We had become set in our isolation. Irena wanted to meet you, but we decided the risks were too high, given what Harry told us. Perhaps we were over-cautious."

Vincent’s face became stiff as he remembered.

"I understand – better than you may think. My life has been one of limitations and risks, balanced against love and duty. Father – Jacob – did his best to keep me safe and hidden. But if I had paid attention, I would not have found Catherine and my life would have been very different. May I call you Virgil?" His father nodded.

"You were right to be afraid, Virgil. Paracelsus almost killed me twice and caused untold suffering to others. He killed without remorse when it suited his purpose. He was a brilliant man, but completely unscrupulous. If Father…um…Jacob, had not won out in those early days, our community would now be a place of hate and fear. That’s how he wished to rule us.

"He was obsessed with domination of our community – and myself. He wanted me to be his violent right hand. He cared for nothing but accumulating gold. He kidnapped Catherine once to draw me to him, threatened to harm her if I did not cooperate. One of his thugs nearly killed me. If he had known of you, he would have done all in his power to steal Vian and turn him into a weapon."

Virgil sighed. "So I understood, when at last we knew of your existence. Harry never met you apparently, or we might have found a way to meet you sooner, my son, and thereby saved Irena and yourself much grief. I am sorry to meet you like this, an old man waiting for death."

Vincent sensed that Virgil was suffering pain that wore him down and made life miserable. Old age, Irene had said, which was a puzzle he did not want to unravel just then. Its implication to himself and his siblings was worrying.

Vincent stroked the hand he held, fascinated by it, having never seen another like his own. It was warm and the palm strangely smooth. Was this what Catherine felt when she held his hand? He didn’t know if he could help, but he sent strength and love down the thin bond he felt with his father.

There was a sound of footsteps behind him and Peter came into the chamber with Ilona. Vincent found himself again at a loss. His sister was tall and golden-haired, but bore none of the facial characteristics of himself and Vian. In that sense, she was like Vincent’s son, Jacob. But differences likely existed in her blood, as they did with Jacob. They should all have blood tests for comparison’s sake, he thought.

Ilona approached the bed and Vincent rose to greet her. She smiled at him and Vian, gave them both a quick hug, then went to Virgil.

"How are you, Father? Would you like some tea? Peter has given me a special preparation made by William, the cook in Vincent’s community. It will help ease your arthritis."

Virgil smiled and nodded. He already looked a little better, Vincent thought as he sat down again, taking up the large hand. He re-doubled his efforts to strengthen the older man. Virgil looked at him with respect.

"I thank you for what you are trying to do, Vincent, but it won’t cure me. I know my days are numbered. But you are helping to ease the pain, just by your presence.

"And now I have to ask? What do you think we should do? I find myself wanting to move forward, to leave my family in good hands."

Vincent stood up, still holding Virgil’s hand, and looked around at everyone.

"You’re welcome to move into our tunnel community, all of you. We have some empty chambers, though none as beautiful as this. I can bring a work party to help you move your belongings, whenever you wish."

Vincent paused, overcome by emotion.

"I’d like you to be part of us. We are like family and have the best cook Above or Below. Peter can confirm that. But you might find it a bit chaotic and noisy, so we can give you chambers on the outer circle if you wish. We all eat together, but William will be happy to provide you with trays if you’d prefer. There will be some adjustments. We have a lot of children and a busy work roster, but Catherine and I will be happy to help you settle in. With a baby of our own now, and her work for the Foundation, I’m not called upon to do the back-breaking work any more. We’ll be at your disposal.

"And Virgil, we have a hot steam room, which might give you some relief – perhaps more than William’s famous tea. Father has an arthritic hip and finds it helpful. And we have a wonderful library."

Virgil nodded, his relief. He looked at Irena, who nodded, and at his other children. They smiled their willingness.

"Well then," he said. "It seems everyone is only too happy to leave this home of ours. I confess I wish to see this library of yours. Books are my main passion these days."

"Then I will make the arrangements," Vincent promised. "I think I should leave now and let you all have some peace. When would you like me to bring a moving crew?"

Irena looked at Virgil and replied. "Vincent, I think it should be soon. As you see, we do not have a great deal, but we will want to take all possible. We do not want to be a burden to your community. If you can give us two days to pack and get organized, we can move on the morning of the third. Would that be convenient?"

"I’m sure it will be," Vincent declared. "And I will personally bring a wheelchair for Virgil. It’s a long walk and there is no need for him to tire himself out. I know it will be difficult for you to leave this place, but be assured it will not be abandoned completely. If you are willing, we will find a use for it, despite its distance from us. It seems very well hidden. But that can be decided at a future date.

"I’ll return in three days, about mid-morning, with a crew of helpers and some trolleys."

With that, Vincent said his goodbyes and left. Peter followed him. Once in the tunnels again, Peter called Vincent to halt. He was striding along as if in a race against time. Vincent paused and apologized. Peter looked at him and smiled.

"It’s understandable, Vincent, but before we return to Cathy, I wanted you to know what I’ve discovered about Virgil. I took a blood sample some days ago, when I gave him some medication for his arthritis. I’m sure his deterioration worries you, but it need not. His blood is quite unlike yours, incompatible in fact. I suspect that the abominable process which created him used cloned cells. If that is so, his premature aging is explained. Experiments with animals have had the same results. He might be able to tell us whether this is so, if his guardian told him. Irena told me he has written it all down."

Vincent looked a little shocked and then curious, but had a more important concern.

"How long does he have to live, Peter? Can you make a guess."

"He did rally for awhile, after I brought some medication, but he’s becoming weaker again, and in more pain by the day. Even medication will soon cease to work. This kind of disease tends to advance more quickly towards the end. I can’t risk giving him stronger painkillers because of his unusual physiognomy. He is worn out, Vincent. I would guess he has only a month or so to live."

Vincent hung his head and leaned against the tunnel wall. Was there a Fate called Irony? He couldn’t remember. There should be, he thought wryly. When he stood straight again, it was with new determination.

"I understand, Peter. Thank you for telling me this. I must make sure his last days are as happy as I can make them."

"Vincent, seeing you has made him very happy. I think his family is more important to him than anything else."

They continued on to the brownstone and found Catherine waiting in the kitchen with little Jacob on her lap. It was almost lunch time.

She grinned at them both.

"Your timing is excellent, gentlemen. I’ve reserved seats in the dining room Below for us all. I hope you can join us Peter. I believe William has cooked up something extraordinary, even for him. He seems to think we all need some serious shoring up after the excitement of today – and in preparation for the days to come. News has preceded you – in its usual mysterious fashion. Of course, everyone is waiting to hear the latest, so you will have to satisfy their curiosity. But this way, it need only be said once."

"Excellent plan, Cathy," Peter exclaimed. "But what’s this special meal?"

"I’m sworn to silence," Catherine declared. "You’ll just have to come and see for yourself."

"Well, I’ll do more than just look at it, you can be sure," Peter quipped.

Vincent laughed and capturing Catherine, took Jacob from her and led them down into the tunnels and to the dining hall. Some time before they reached it, a delicious smell wafted to them.

"I really should talk to William about secrecy," Vincent remarked. "These aromas tell everyone within miles of the kitchen that there is more than meets the eye down here. One day we’re going to be discovered because of these odours are wafting Above and into some curious nostril."

Peter laughed. "Well, if you put Mouse onto it, I’m sure he’ll devise an innovative solution."

"Oh, yes," Catherine agreed. "But would we survive it, I wonder?"

They were still chuckling as they entered the dining hall. Although the final lunch signal had not yet sounded, it seemed as if everyone was already seated. An air of anticipation seemed to pervade the hall. Three seats and a highchair for the baby, were waiting for them next to Father and they quickly took possession of them.

Father stood up and there was immediate silence.

"Friends, Vincent and Peter have a tale to tell, I am assured. However, food must come first or William will feed me nothing but dry toast and gristle for the next month.

"Let’s eat!"

William brought out a huge platter piled high with something. The smell was one Catherine remembered from a favourite British pub – steak and kidney pie! William, of course, had put his own stamp on this basic fare and the result was exquisite. Huge tureens of mashed potato and mushy peas also made the rounds. The whole was washed down with, what else, William’s special ale.

The three guests ate quietly, savouring every bite. The work that must have gone into these pies, Catherine thought, amazed. All that pastry! She fed Jacob some of this fine fare, but soon realized he was not impressed. She managed to get him to eat enough vegetables to keep him quiet though. Vincent, eyeing the portion left, raised an eyebrow and quietly shifted it to his own plate. It was gone seconds later. He looked at Catherine with a feral grin. She rolled her eyes. Peter, who had caught this exchange, laughed.

Keeping to the British food theme, William had prepared an enormous bread pudding, the taste of which garnered many expressions of delight before each bowl was scraped clean. Little Jacob almost inhaled his, meaning Vincent had to be content with his own portion. He tried not to look disappointed, but Catherine wasn’t fooled.

"Perhaps I should learn to make one of these," Catherine mused. "I’m sure William will be happy to teach me."

Vincent looked at her. "Do that Catherine. I think our new family might want to enjoy this as well. We must have a reunion party soon."

While everyone was drinking their tea and coffee, Vincent stood up to immediate and absolute silence. He related what he knew of his new-found family to a sea of amazed faces. Then everyone started talking at once. Father stood up and called for order.

"Friends, I know this is incredible news, but we must be patient and show some restraint. This family has been isolated for over 35 years. They will be moving here in a few days, but we must not overwhelm them at first. Vincent’s father is ill, dying in fact, so we must give the family time to be alone and offer our support only when it is requested.

"I suggest that anyone one who wants to visit the new arrivals, does so individually, after making a formal request through Vincent. No rushing into their chamber like headless chickens. Their privacy will be very important to them. We must respect that."

Father looked at Mouse when he said this. Mouse hung his head.

"Mouse never wants to upset anyone," he mumbled. "Especially Vincent’s family."

"Good," Father exclaimed. "Then it’s settled. Vincent will call for volunteers in three days time to help his family move, but there’s some work to be done to prepare the empty chambers. Vincent will decide which ones are suitable and I’ll add that to the work roster."