Deadly Worm

Next to a good reliable ghost, a Family Curse is one of the most hallowed appurtenances of British nobility. Last week a fine old Family Curse made a fine news story. Twenty-year-old Viscount Lambton, son and heir of the 5th Earl of Durham, lay dead by "suicide while of unsound mind," according to a coroner's jury. The folk of Northumberland knew that the Curse of the Worm had struck again.

The Worm of Lambton was fished out of the River Wear at the time of the Crusades by Sir John Lambton, angling godlessly on Sunday. Uncommonly ugly and uncommonly strong, the Worm escaped from the well into which he threw it and grew so huge that it would wrap itself many times around a nearby hill. It devastated the countryside and when cut into pieces reunited and slew its attackers. A local witch told Sir John he could kill it if he would fix razor blades to his armor and vow to kill the first living thing he saw after vanquishing the Worm. If he broke the vow, the beldame said, for nine generations no Lambton would die in his bed.

Making his vow and donning his razor blades, Sir John challenged the Worm. They fought on a rock in the river, and after the Worm had wounded itself on the blades Sir John hacked it in two with his sword. One half floated down the river and, unable to rejoin, the Worm died. But Sir John did not kill the next living creature he saw. It was his father. The next nine generations of Lambtons died violent deaths.

Dormant for centuries, the Curse of the Worm is apparently regaining power. The suicidal Viscount's uncle was killed in World War I. One cousin disappeared from a liner, another died in a car smash. Two years ago his grandmother was killed by a fall. When he was ten, young Lambton himself disappeared mysteriously for several days. One night last week servants heard the Viscount in the kitchen cooking his usual midnight snack of ham & eggs. Next morning they found him sprawled in a fountain on the castle lawn, his brains blown out by a charge from his own gun.

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