Weird Tales/Volume 8/Issue 3/The Marmoset
The Marmoset
By Marc R. Schorer and August W. Derleth
The dark figure of a man slunk silently through the byways and alleys of Florence. He kept to the clutching shadows, avoiding the moonlight as much as possible. Once, when he unwittingly stepped into a bright patch of light, the rays of the moon gleamed brightly on something visible below the belt of his doublet. But he hastily drew back into the shadows and the gleam vanished. Once he halted and listened attentively because he thought he had heard a sound, but it was only a cat. Again, a bat swept by him in the darkness, and he shuddered, but it flew out in the moonlight and wheeled about in the calm summer air, casting a grotesque shadow upon the paving stones in the patch of light. He watched it, fascinated. A moth whirred out of its retreat into the moonlight, and, before he quite grasped the rapidity of the thing, the man saw the bat sweep downward, and the moth was no longer there.
He smiled in secret admiration of the feat. Like a bat he would accomplish his object under the sheltering robe of night. He glanced eagerly down the street. A single, feebly illuminated window greeted his gaze; but it was a window in the house to which he was directed. He fumed impatiently and glanced up at the moon, which was already starting on its descent to the westward.
For quite some time he stood there in the shadows. Messer Marri was late in retiring. But no matter, the watching man would attain his object, if wait he must until morning. The window was dark now, but he must bide his time and give the magician a space in which to fall into slumber. There was no doubt that it was Messer Marri who had bewitched his daughter. And now she was gone! His hand wandered to the hilt of his dagger and he grasped the weapon to make certain that it was still firmly in its place.
What was it he saw about the door of the magician's squat residence? He gazed intently at it. It was naught else but the figure of the wizard leaving the house and starting down the street.
Messer Como watched the magician silently and wondered where he could be going. Suddenly he was seized with the idea of entering the house and secreting himself therein in Messer Marri's absence. He slunk forward again and soon he was pushing at the door of the house. It yielded to his touch, and Messer Como entered.
There was a patch of moonlight on the floor, and Messer Como searched for a hiding place. He noticed glowing embers in the grate and wondered for what Messer Marri had needed a fire on such a warm night. Something shot across the patch of moonlight, and a second later Messer Como felt it brushing against his legs. A cat, perhaps. He reached downward and struck the furry mass. At his action the injured creature started to gibber demoniacally. It was gone now and sat in the moonlight shaking a tiny fist at Messer Como. It was a marmoset, and its big eyes caught and reflected the moonlight as it blinked them furiously at Messer Como.
Messer Como went over to it and attempted to pacify it, but his efforts only served to increase the fury of the little beast. It gibbered incessantly, and Messer Como apprehensively wondered how quickly Messer Marri would return. For a minute he considered dispatching the animal, but then he thought better of it and drew back into the shadows, leaving the marmoset to itself.
For a short space the creature remained silent, and Messer Como was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when it again started to chatter, more vehemently than before, and at the same time Messer Como heard a step resound in the court without. He half unloosed his dagger and felt his other weapon in the bosom of his doublet. The marmoset gibbered shrilly and jumped up and down on the stone floor in its anger.
The door opened and Messer Marri entered. He halted at the threshold and stared at his pet.
"Aha," said he, "something has disturbed my little pet. Is it not so, Chero?" He walked over to the candles in the bracket. "Perhaps," he continued, "perhaps we have a visitor." He removed a candle and walked over to the fireplace. "We shall see, Chero. In a space."
He lit the candle at the embers, and, without glancing about him, walked to the sconce and ignited the remaining flambeaux. He turned, and his eyes fell upon Messer Como standing quietly near the entrance, his hand guiltily clutching the hilt of the dagger. The magician glanced at the marmoset.
"You see, Chero, I was correct. We have a visitor."
The animal blinked solemnly back at him and at intervals it gibbered excitedly. Messer Marri continued.
"Sit down, Messer Como, sit down. I am sure that your intentions are of the best, even though your hand rests upon your dagger. Possibly a habit, Messer Como, most possibly a habit." He turned to the animal on the floor again. "It is most fortunate that he has come, eh, Chero?"
The creature moved forward and caught at Messer Marri's robe and in a few seconds it was perched upon his shoulder. In a monotone Messer Marri spoke a few words to his pet. The monkey jumped to the floor and raced over to Messer Como, and, almost before Messer Como was aware of it, the marmoset was running off with his dagger. But he contented himself with the thought that he still had another dagger in the form of a stiletto in the bosom of his doublet. The wizard addressed Messer Como.
"Yes, Messer Como, it is so fortunate that yon have come. I am so in need of someone to aid me. It is kind of you." He smiled sardonically.
Messer Como strove to answer but he was totally unnerved by the calm of his would-be victim.
"Ah, yes, Messer Como. Today have I compounded two liquids, both poison. One should kill within the quarter-hour; the other not for two months. I am very much in need of someone to test these for me, Messer Como."
He smiled, but the glint in his eyes belied the smile. He continued.
"First, I think, we shall try the more deadly of the two." He moved over to a shelf near the fireplace, from which he removed two phials.
Meanwhile Messer Como sat. He uttered not a sound, but stared at the magician, fascinated. All his plans of vengeance had dissolved into thin air, and his one thought was escape from this fiend who threatened his existence. He was seated near the open door, but Messer Marri's marmoset, which was between him and the door, was fingering the dagger it had stolen, and, once in a space, it glared evilly at Messer Como. Undoubtedly the animal could not kill, but even a scratch from the weapon would suffice to dispatch one, for Messer Como had taken the precaution to dip the end of the blade into a deadly compound. The window as a means of escape was too far distant. Dully he watched the wizard at his task of removing the phials. Messer Marri walked over and stood before him. He held aloft a phial and spoke.
"This, Messer Como, is the more deadly." The liquid was as colorless as the glass that contained it. "A drop, Messer, or two drops, will plunge yon into the most excruciating pains you can experience. While you will not be conscious of any exterior pain, you will nevertheless suffer most horribly." He uncorked the phial as he spoke. * 'First, Messer Como, there will be a terrible burning feeling as the liquid travels down the gullet. But that, Messer, is nought compared to the gnawing pain in the vitals. A thousand times you will wish yourself dead; a thousand times you will regret that you had ever been born. Then, Messer, it will attack your brain in a most subtle manner. All you see will appear a bright glaring red and suddenly you will go blind."
He looked at Messer Como suggestively. Messer Como's forehead was covered with a cold sweat of terror.
"But," continued the wizard, "if I should see that the poison is beginning to take effect, I shall possibly give you a few drops of a mixture which I have concocted to counteract its effect. Possibly, Messer." The ominous accent on the word "possibly" did not escape Messer Como's notice. "And, Messer, if you but taste the other liquid" (here he removed the stopper of the remaining phial) "you will wish to be back in the tortures of the first poison. The first poison is merciful, in comparison with the latter. For two whole months, Messer, you will live upon a rack. Everything you touch will seem like hot coal; everything you eat will taste like putrefied flesh—but enough of my inadequate description. You shall see for yourself."
Messer Como seemed to have shrunk in his clothes; for he sat immobile, staring at the marmoset that had defeated his purpose.
The magician was advancing toward him, the phials containing the fatal poisons grasped firmly in his hands. But at that moment the wizard's pet leapt away from the door. With a hoarse cry Messer Como flung himself into the court without.
Calmly the magician poured the water in the phials out upon the flagstones at the threshold. He stood in the doorway and chuckled exultantly to himself, the marmoset clinging to his doublet, as he watched Messer Como run swiftly down the street. It was simple, he reflected, so simple to play upon this man's imagination. He had come to murder him, had he? The wizard laughed. Poison! He had none in his residence, for that very day the Duke di Medici had purchased his entire stock. He laughed again and stared after Messer Como, almost out of sight down the long street.
But the fury of Messer Como was too much for him to contain; so he halted, half turned, and saw the magician standing in the doorway. In the space of a second Messer Como had formulated a plan. He left the center of the street and melted into the shadows on the side. He grasped the stiletto in his bosom. The blade of this tool had been poisoned. So Messer Marri would poison him, eh? Well, he would show him; he would give him a generous taste of his own medicine. Hidden by the shadows he crept toward the magician's house.
He was close enough now; he could easily reach the wizard with his weapon from where he stood. He drew his stiletto from his doublet, and, raising his arm, threw it with all his strength; then turned and fled fleetly down the street. There was a brilliant flash in the moonlight, a shrill, piercing scream, and the magician crumpled to the flagstones before his house.
For days afterward people wondered at the significance of the cold body of the magician with the stiff marmoset impaled to his breast by the long-bladed stiletto.
