by Gill Jepson
“Really! Then I hope you know how to get out of here!” he added.
“That I do! If ye can follow me… we will be out in a trice.”
He helped Nate stand up and supported him while he got the feeling back in his legs. Tom led Nate to the back of the cavern and located the exit as he had done with Dolly. They made their way down the narrow tunnel towards the breeze and the light. Nate stumbled after Tom and hoped that he truly knew where he was going. Here and there they had to climb over fallen rocks and soil, and roots from above reached their thorny fingers down, clutching and scratching at them as they passed. It was more difficult and uneven than Tom remembered, but then it was nearly three hundred years since he had travelled through with Dolly.
They finally emerged at the other end, digging their way through the obscured entrance. It was very dark and snow was gusting across the coastline. They crept out and looked around to gain their bearings. Tom looked hesitant. Much had changed, of course, and in the dark it looked even more unfamiliar to him. Nate could see the lights from the Gas Terminal and the town at Barrow, so it was easy for him to orientate his position.
“Where can we go? We haven’t got the sword and we need to make sure that the skull is still safe,” whispered Nate.
“Methinks we must go to where the sword was last seen – knowest thou where it is?” replied Tom.
“Dixon left it at Mote Farm, before he brought me here.”
“Then this is where we must go first!” declared Tom with authority.
It was a couple of miles along the coast, but they would have to travel quickly and unseen. They trudged along the path towards the church, bracing themselves against the snow and wind. Nate went over the day’s events in his head. He knew they might be missing him at home but he also knew that he had to retrieve the sword as quickly as he could. Somehow, all their existences were tied up with the sword and the skull… he knew instinctively that it was hugely important to save these relics.
As they climbed over the fence at the church a familiar car screeched along the road towards them. It was Rob. Oh no! What would they tell him this time?
His brakes squealed as he stopped the car. Before Nate could speak he leaned over and opened the door.
“Get in! Both of you!” he ordered.
Without argument they did as they were told.
Something was different about Rob. He had an air of wisdom about him – not his usual image at all.
“Where is the sword?” he asked bluntly.
Tom and Nate looked at each other in astonishment. It was no good trying to hoodwink him – he obviously knew something.
“How do you know…” began Nate.
“The monk… he sent me,” he replied baldly.
“How…?”
“Don’t ask… you’re not the only one with secrets… and stuff… well you wouldn’t believe it!”
Nate smirked. I think I would actually, he thought to himself.
“Tis good that thou art with us, lad!” interjected Tom happily.
“Well, I’m still not sure about you – got up in all that weird gear… what’s your story anyway?” Rob asked rudely.
“Hey, leave it out Rob! You wouldn’t believe it… or who…” Nate trailed off.
“To be honest… after today I would believe anything you told me! That… that bloody monk! What’s that all about? I know you’re up to your neck in something -and he’s in it with you… whoever he is and wherever he’s from! Now I’m in it too – and I’m not sure I really wanna be!”
The three fell silent and it was Tom who spoke first.
“Well, lad, we needs must make haste and repair to Mote Farm once more! We can hold discourse upon these events at some later date!”
“Huh! In common parlance please… what is he on about, Nate? Can’t he speak in English?” retorted Rob impatiently.
“He said, let’s get going to the farm and talk later!” laughed Nate.
They sped off at a rate of knots along the wet road towards Aldingham. They drove past the farm and parked precariously on the grass verge.
“Where do we go from here then?” asked Rob.
“Into the farm… but we’ll have to be careful in case any of those thugs are about – don’t fancy running into them again!” said Nate.
“Thou must stay here until we return and be ready to move this horseless cart rapidly on our return… can’st thou manage that?” requested Tom.
“He is beginning to wind me up, Nate! Does he think I’m a numpty or summat?” spat Rob irritably.
“I meant thee no offence lad…”
“And don’t keep calling me lad… I bet you’re not much older than me!”
“Shut up! We have to get the sword…though where we go from there I haven’t a clue!” interjected Nate.
Nate and Tom ran across the road and down through the back of the farm. They crept along the outside wall. A light was on in the kitchen but there was no movement. Nate scuttled along to the door like a commando; he shuffled along to the small window next to it and signalled Tom to move closer to the door. Nate slowly leaned over and took a quick look through the window and into the kitchen. The lad who had been in the car with him earlier was sitting at the table playing on his iPod.
Nate scurried back to Tom and they had a rapid discussion. Nate moved to beneath the window again and hid in the shadows; Tom fixed his hat right down over his face, pulled his collar up and took out a small pistol from under his cloak.
All of a sudden he flung open the door of the farmhouse and stood, an imposing figure in the doorway, yelling fiercely, “Thy money or thy life, churl!”
A horrified scream disturbed the quiet of the night and was followed swiftly by the terrified youth crashing past Tom and out into the night. He ran as though the devil was after him and swiftly disappeared from sight. The two companions fell into peals of laughter, releasing the tension of the last few hours. Nate quickly ran into the kitchen and retrieved the sword, which was still where Dixon had placed it. They hurriedly closed the door and ran back the way they had come, meeting Rob and jumping into the car.
“God! I thought you were never coming! What took you so long?”
“Drive… just drive! Look, there’s a car coming… it could be them!”
Without another word Rob revved the engine and set off towards the lane to Scales. He cut the corner and swerved into the narrow lane. The two boys grabbed on to their seats to stay upright.
“You don’t need to go that fast, you idiot!” yelled Nate.
“Er… I think you’ll find I do! That car is following us!”
Tom and Nate looked behind them and to their dismay saw the car making its way up the lane behind them. Rob put his foot down and the little Fiesta roared off like a Formula One car. He was an erratic driver normally, but something took hold of Rob and he calmly manoeuvred the car like a rally driver. They were placing distance between them and the other car, and as they rattled through the sleepy village of Gleaston. Nate had a twinge of melancholy… Five minutes and they would be at the dig field… if only Chris was still there!
They stormed along, passing the houses and up the hill towards the Copper Dog. They narrowly missed a car pulling out of the pub car park, but pressed on regardless. The car held up their pursuers and they were able to fly through Leece and down to Stone Dyke.
“Where now?” demanded Rob urgently. “We can’t go home with it…”
Panic set in. Where could they go? Where was safe? Who could help them?
“I dunno… er… what about the abbey?”
“THE ABBEY!” bawled Rob, “How is that safe? There’s nobody there to help!”
“’Tis where the sword must lie… and yet thou must retrieve the skull!” interrupted Tom.
“THE SKULL! That thing you brought from Chris?
“Yeah… we’ll have to go home… it’s there!” sighed Nate.
“Home it is then… but what you’re gonna tell mum I can’t im
agine.”
“Oh, I knew it would be my problem!”
They slewed into the drive and screeched to a halt. As they did so the curtains twitched and someone looked out.
“Get that flaming’ hat and cloak off, Tom! Try and look a bit normal! We’ll get you in but keep yer gob shut or they’ll know summat’s wrong with you!” instructed Rob taking charge of the situation.
The three unlikely companions got out of the car, and as they walked towards the front door two magpies flew down from the roof and clipped their heads as the flew past.
“What the?” exclaimed Rob.
Before anyone could say more, Nate gestured towards the end of the road. A sleek black car drew into the street silently and parked, turning off its headlights.
“In… now! It’s them,” ordered Nate.
CHAPTER 21
THE FINAL RESTING PLACE
They somehow got away with introducing Tom to the family. Nate supposed they didn’t guess he was an eighteenth century Revenue man mainly because you would never in a million years expect to see one in your house! He couldn’t help thinking how stoked Mum would be to know she’d met her own ancestor – weird! They distracted her by saying they were all hungry and as she disappeared into the kitchen, disgruntled at having to cook at such a late hour, they went upstairs to Nate’s room.
Soon they heard the microwave ping and very soon were eating lasagne and micro chips – quite a good effort for Mum! Tom was again mystified by what passed as food in this century, but he was becoming unconcerned about the strange things he had seen. He was baffled by the twenty-first century paraphernalia in Nate’s room – not least the electric lights, which he insisted on switching on and off, and the TV which Nate had put on to obscure their conversation.
Rob looked out of his bedroom window, which faced the street where the car was still parked. They were in a quandary about what to do next. Finally Nate suggested they ask Mum if Tom could sleep over; then at least they could formulate a plan.
Permission was granted, reluctantly it had to be said, but by 11 o’ clock they had gone to bed, Tom on the put-me-up in a sleeping bag. He had been horrified by the shower, which Nate had insisted he use, but soon got over it once he had given it a try. Rob had lent him boxers and a T-shirt and the transformation was amazing, he looked like any other teenage boy.
They slept fitfully and woke early. Again Tom was kitted out in Rob’s clothing and after much protesting even agreed to relinquish the leather top-boots, which they deemed just too odd to wear in the present. His gear was packed up into a carrier bag to be retrieved later. They breakfasted on bacon and eggs with bread – at least more familiar fare than Tom had thus far been offered.
Mum and Dad were going shopping and Rebecca was off with her friends again to Dalton Castle this time, so the coast would be clear. Nate was worried that once Mum and Dad had left the house Silas and his heavies would try and get in. So they decided to make a break for it before everyone left. Rob was on watch while Nate and Tom moved the bird bath to reclaim Jeffrey. One… two… three magpies flew onto the fence… watching, sinister in their silence. Nate carried on, because he knew they must recover the skull to return with the sword. A flash of black feathers shot across the garden to the fence, disturbing the malevolent magpies and scattering them to the four winds. Their raucous cries could be heard across the close. Finally the finds box was out and the bird bath back in place.
They knew they could not risk going up the lane to the abbey. They would have to pass the car. Nate came up with an idea which solved the problem. He led them to the bottom of the garden and began to climb over the fence into the field below. It was a sharp drop of about four metres, but the shored-up banking had huge wooden struts which they could easily climb down. They proceeded carefully down the banking and into the field. Once in the field they raced along the old railway track which had once led to the iron ore mines, last harvested in the nineteenth century, then through the fields to Park House Farm and then on to Bow Bridge. The sword and skull were hidden in the backpack on Nate’s back, but to him it shone like a beacon to all who could see.
As they reached the railway crossing by the cottage a lone raven swooped past them and landed on the gate, as though it was urging them onwards. They ran down the pathway past the Abbey Mill and on to the road. As they reached the car park they abruptly came to a halt. In front of them the scene altered, the railing dissolved and the abbey walls changed. Suddenly, the buildings appeared very different; some melted away, others sprang up, trees shot out of the ground and the abbey transformed into a much smaller and simpler version of the one they knew.
The three of them were fixed to the spot and were fascinated with the scene before them. Before anyone could comment, movement came from the trees along the track. A group of monks, clothed in black habits and carrying a simple wooden box, appeared from the trees. They walked slowly and deliberately, muttering prayers as they went, passing close by the friends but without acknowledging them.
“They can’t see us,” hissed Rob.
“Yeah, I know… let’s follow them… ” answered Nate.
The three companions followed at a respectable distance. The monks continued at this pace until they reached the gatehouse. The elder monk at the front knocked at the heavy oak door. They were granted admittance and the little procession disappeared into the abbey.
The boys ran speedily to the door, slipping inside just as the porter closed the heavy wooden door. They all gasped as they entered the abbey building, it was incredible… Nate had always imagined what the abbey would look like, but he could never have envisaged this.
Although it had been daylight outside, the interior was dark and gloomy, lit by rushlights. They passed through a small refectory with a long, roughly hewn table and benches, and a rush-strewn floor. On they went to the nave of the church, again sparsely furnished and lit by beeswax candles; a faint aroma of incense hung in the air and the sweet sound of plainsong drifted through from a body of monks in the chancel. The effect was spine tingling, the eerie sound of the chanting setting every hair on end. The monks came to rest in the chapel at the side of the sanctuary; the coffin was placed on a bier ready prepared by the monks of Furness Abbey. They all fell to their knees in prayer and this continued for some time.
An elderly monk, followed by two others, dressed in white habits entered the chapel from the presbytery and knelt at the coffin too. They arose after some minutes and the abbot spoke quietly to the leader of the black monks, unusually breaking the silence required in the church.
“You have brought the sacred relic with thee?” enquired the abbot.
“We have, Father, as arranged,” came the reply.
“That is good, we have prepared the chest to contain the sacred relic.”
The monks stood and filed out of the church. The abbot, the black monk and the other two white monks said a quiet prayer and moved to the coffin. A young monk appeared carrying a studded chest; he stood close to the abbot and opened the chest, which was lined with luxurious velvet. The Benedictine raised the lid of the coffin and revealed within it the body of a bishop… and a saint… St Cuthbert no less. Nate remembered that St Cuthbert’s coffin had been taken by monks on a seven-year pilgrimage in the north to preserve it from Viking raiders. The body was miraculously preserved, looking more asleep than dead. He reached into the box and lifted from it a white skull. He gave it to the abbot who carefully and reverently placed the skull into the box and closed the lid. He then disappeared into the chancel out of sight.
The pageant of ghostly figures showed them that they were in the right place at last. As soon as they had witnessed the scene, the surroundings began to fade and gradually all returned to normality.
They felt disorientated and dizzy, but before they could catch their breath a loud squawking cry severed the silence, revealing a dozen malicious magpies. The birds swooped from the snow-laden sky, homing in on their targets. The boys split up and ran thr
ough the church towards the bell tower. Their progress was arrested by the appearance of Silas Dixon and his cohorts. They seized Nate and Rob easily but Tom managed to pull free momentarily. He grabbed at the knapsack which Nate had taken off and thrown to him and ran as though his life depended upon it.
A frantic pursuit ensued, the young man running through the cloister as fast as he could. The youth who was with Dixon launched, rugby tackling him to the floor. The bag shot from his hands and landed in the snow. Meanwhile Nate and Rob had managed to break free and were racing to his assistance. Nate managed to wrestle the bag away from the youth. He slipped and skidded across the wet grass, running headlong into the Chapter House. He cursed his stupidity as soon as he realised that he was trapped by the walls on all sides; there was nothing for it but to try and climb up to the window and jump down to the other side. Before he had chance to try Dixon pulled him down and wrested the bag from him, knocking him to the ground.
Rob and Tom were apprehended and were powerless to help. Silas opened the bag and removed the skull and then the sword. He was overcome with glee and he laughed manically. Nate thought he would be sick, he couldn’t believe they had been so stupid.
As Silas looked at the sword with admiration he inspected the skull, matching the single-sided blade to the indentation at the base of the skull. He grinned, his white skin pulled tightly across his face, his eyes sunken and dark in their sockets, looking like a mirror image of the skull he held in his hand. Suddenly his mirth vanished as quickly as it had begun and he lost every vestige of colour, looking more grey than white.
In the centre of the Chapter House a black raven appeared, sleek wings beating slowly, disturbing the air and causing ripples of energy which they could almost touch. The air was static with electrical charge, blue zigzags of light crackling and hissing around the objects. The raven continued to flap its wings; a great blue light, swelling and surging, surrounded it. Around the blue aura a brilliant white light emerged, bleaching the blue and erasing the image of the raven completely; in its place a wonderful white swan, shimmering and sparkling with divine light. The light drowned the ruins in divine light and suffused them with a warm feeling of joy and well-being.