Interview with the Devil: Professor Moriarity...Part Three By John Pirillo

Interview with the Devil: Professor Moriarity...Part Three By John Pirillo

"The abyss of terror is never greater than that of the unknown which stands before you." Professor Moriarity

I flicked through some documents that the good Professor had dug up from his bedroom closet above the shop. I suppose you're interested in our meal, but only lightly so, so I'll brush over that and say only that it was pleasant and gave me more reason than ever to both fear and respect this master villain of the past. I say past, because he is not the same man today, he was in Victorian England...on that other world of which this interview mostly dwells, though parts have emerged into ours, but not so clearly, which I hope to explain as the interview continues.

What interests me the most is the eagerness of this man to expound upon issues of which I'd never expect a criminal mind of such vast proportions to dwell upon, so I will skip my own ponderances and leap to the rest of the interview.

The interview continues now:

"It was on August 1st, the year of our Queen Margaret, in the realm of Glacscony, that my father was born. A poor man of humble habits, but of brilliant mind and character. He was beloved by all, especially the poor to whom he administered. He was as you'll see a doctor, though not the one you find trained in the finer places like London, but one of hard necessity." Professor Moriarity explained, cradling a cup of steaming tea between his massive fingers, while Morina flitted about the kitchen, pretending to be straightening up things, while actually listening to every word.

I'm sure the young girl, who was not so young, had every reason to be as curious about her father's history as I was. I'm also certain that she was not what she seemed to be. For one in what appeared to be in their mid twenties, she gave off the air of someone of much greater control and intellectual development. I frowned inwardly, shaming myself for missing the words the good Professor spoke, but thank God I kept my cell phone on and never missed a moment.

"But that period of time was not friendly to the common folk. While the lords and ladies frolicked in their expensive castles and indulged themselves with fine imported wines and expensive foods, our people were just barely surviving, learning to live off their own sweat and blood and then having more than three quarters of that stolen by the Queen's tax collectors in the name of fairness."

He set down his cup, and I'm sure the next words were from an actual experience. "One day they came to my father's home, and pounded on his door, demanding to be heard. He opened it. He usually spent the Sundays of each week going over his potions and equipment, so he'd know what he needed to repair, or find yet again in the abundant forest nearby."

"Your father used homeopathic medicines then?" I asked, curious what he would say.

"Aye. And that's long before your hippies discovered the blessings of land and water in your own home country." He replied with a touch of amusement on his lips. Smooth shaven, his every expression was lit by a ruddy face, free of wrinkles or scowls, of which I had assumed he might have many, but was proven totally wrong over the course of the interview, except such times as he found something distasteful to reveal.

"You see, my father was part of a lineage that dated back to the great Paracelsus."

My eyes lit up. "That man is remembered in our world for many great things."

"And rightly so. His name came from the word meaning, 'next.' Which I later found out meant, next to God."

"Amazing." I uttered. I hadn't known that, even though I knew he was renowned during the fifteen hundreds for his knowledge of toxicology, medicine, philosophy, alchemy and botany. He was also considered an occultist, and believed to be part of a larger group of enlightened society, called the "Golden Brotherhood," who were famous for such men as Lord Byron, Bram Stoker, Blake, 

Shakespeare and many other notables I haven't the time or space to reveal here.

"Yes. He was close to God, as all such men tend to be. And he was also mentored by the great master of the occult, Merlin."

"You're kidding!" I  exclaimed.

"Not one tiny bit." He said, his eyes narrowing with amusement. I found that a peculiar thing, as most people's eyes widen.

"As you know from your own writing and research, Merlin, still alive in your Baker Street Universe, is a man of great talent and wisdom."

"Yes, I've always admired him for the great work he did in this country with the young King Arthur."

"Yes. Him." Moriarity softly said, then no more. He looked up. "My father answered the door and found himself confronted by the Queen's Men and the Tax Solicitor. It was demanded that he come immediately to the court."

"Why him?"

"He had a reputation that was growing and expanding beyond our tiny town. The Queen's child, her only child, King Edward was ailing. She was desperate and seized upon any and all rumors of those who might help." He laughed. "I suppose she would even have used Merlin had he been available."

"And was he?"

"No, he had other...work to do." He said in a hint of mystery in his tone.

"Interesting. So I suspect this turn of events led to your father becoming famous."

"More than."

"In what way?"

"He became the Queen's Personal Doctor, which unsettled the Royal Court of Medicine no little bit. I dare say if it wasn't for his intervention, in her wrath at their clumsiness in serving her so, she would have had their heads taken off, but he intervened begging mercy for them. But that didn't stop them from being banished from the country."

"But wouldn't that have hurt the people needing their service?"

He gave me that strange laugh again. "Son, your world is a miraculous place, but your people, even with all their modern medicines and devices are dying a slow death from all the chemicals these fools are pouring into you with the backing of the gigantic pharmaceuticals."

"Not all doctors are bad."

"No, but they ignore so much that is good, and the corporations of your country are despoiling the world far faster than any war might."

I considered that solemnly for a moment, stunned at the ferocity of his reply, then trying to get back on track, said. "So what happened next?"

"I was brought into the court and given the education my father never could. But alas, my education fell far short of what I had gained in my poor town. It was about etiquette and proper ways of speaking and eating at our plates. I despised the formality of it all and set about undermining such occasions in any way I could."

I gave him a surprised look.

"Look, son, the world is too short in our lives to waste it upon nonsense. The rich have their place, I'm sure, as do the poor so we can all learn to get along and learn from each other, but I do not now, nor ever have thought that foolishness was wisdom. The folly of Queen Margaret's Court was unbearable to me." He almost spit out.

He tensed, as if about to say more, and then decided against it. I felt a presence to my left and saw Morina watching him closely now, a look of fear on her face. I didn't know why at that time, though later in another interview, she did explain.

He finally sighed, and relaxed again. He leaned towards me. "It was in the midst of all that waste and folly that I decided to turn my hand to a more productive direction. You have heard of the legend of Robin Hood?"

"I have."

"That legend was started by me."

I was stunned.

"You see." He paused for dramatic effect. "I began the League of the Black Hand!"

And with that revelation I shall let my reading audience pause to consider all that's been revealed so far, and all that has likely been hidden. How could such an intelligent man, and seemingly kind as well, have gained such a terrible reputation in the world of Holmes. In my world there is a dichotomy of Moriarity's, but this man defied them both...the good and the bad. And you shall see how so in the next portion of this interview. I must retire now as my hand grows weary from the putting down of all these words and editing that which is not essential and frivolous, or perhaps dangerous for you to know.

Sincerely,

The Author and Interviewer

John Pirillo