The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings

LT Meade
Seven Kings

by L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace
1899
INTRODUCTION.
THAT a secret society, based upon the lines of similar institutions so
notorious on the Continent during the last century, could ever have
existed in the London of our day may seem impossible. Such a society,
however, not only did exist, but through the instrumentality of a
woman of unparalleled capacity and genius, obtained a firm footing. A
century ago the Brotherhood of the Seven Kings was a name hardly
whispered without horror and fear in Italy, and now, by the fascinations
and influence of one woman, it began to accomplish fresh deeds of
unparalleled daring and subtlety in London. By the wide extent of its
scientific resources, and the impregnable secrecy of its organisations, it
threatened to become, a formidable menace to society, as well as a
source of serious anxiety to the authorities of the law. It is to the
courtesy of Mr. Norman Head that we are indebted for the
subject-matter of the following hitherto unpublished revelations.
THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SEVEN KINGS.
I.
AT THE EDGE OF THE CRATER.
TOLD BY NORMAN HEAD.
IT was in the year 1894 that the first of the remarkable events which I

am about to give to the world occurred. They found me something of a
philosopher and a recluse, having, as I thought, lived my life and done
with the active part of existence. It is true that I was young, not more
than thirty-five years of age, but in the ghastly past I had committed a
supreme error, and because of that paralyzing experience I had left the
bustling world and found my solace in the scientist's laboratory and the
philosopher's study.
Ten years before these stories begin, when in Naples studying biology,
I fell a victim to the wiles and fascinations of a beautiful Italian. A
scientist of no mean attainments herself, with beauty beyond that of
ordinary mortals, she had appealed not only to my head, but also to my
heart. Dazzled by her beauty and intellect, she led me where she would.
Her aims and ambitions, which in the false glamour she threw over
them I thought the loftiest in the world, became also mine. She
introduced me to the men of her set Ñ I was quickly in the toils, and on
a night never to be forgotten, I took part in a grotesque and horrible
ceremony, and became a member of her Brotherhood.
It was called the Brotherhood of the Seven Kings, and dated its origin
from one of the secret societies of the Middle Ages. In my first
enthusiasm it seemed to me to embrace all the principles of true liberty.
Katherine was its chief and queen. Almost immediately after my
initiation, however, I made an appalling discovery. Suspicion pointed
to the beautiful Italian as the instigator, if not the author, of a most
terrible crime. None of the details could be brought home to her, but
there was little, doubt that she was its moving spring. Loving her
passionately as I then did, I tried to close my intellect against the all too
conclusive evidence of her guilt. For a time I succeeded, but when I
was ordered myself to take part in a transaction both dishonourable and
treacherous, my eyes were opened. Horror seized me, and I fled to
England to place myself under the protection of its laws.
Ten years went by, and the past was beginning to fade. It was destined
to be recalled to me with startling vividness.
When a young man at Cambridge I had studied physiology, but never
qualified myself as a doctor, having independent means ; but in my

laboratory in the vicinity of Regent's Park I worked at biology and
physiology for the pure love of these absorbing sciences.
I was busily engaged on the afternoon of the 3rd of August, 1894, when
Mrs. Kenyon, an old friend, called to see me. She was shown into my
study, and I went to her there. Mrs. Kenyon was a widow, but her son,
a lad of about twelve years of age, had, owing to the unexpected death
of a relative, just come in for a large fortune and a title. She took the
seat I offered her.
"It is too bad of you, Norman," she said; "it is months since you have
been near me. Do you intend to forget your old friends?"
"I hope you will forgive me," I answered; "you know how busy I
always am."
"You work too hard," she replied. "Why a man with your brains and
opportunities for enjoying life wishes to shut himself up in the way you
do, I cannot imagine."
"I am quite happy as I am, Mrs. Kenyon," I replied; "why, therefore,
should I change? By
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