by Gill Jepson
At the edges of the room figures surrounded them. The monk John Stell smiled and made the sign of benediction. An older monk was standing beside a warrior king, and then Chris emerged. They stood strong and proud, powerful energy humming and vibrating the very walls of the Chapter House like a huge battery. The skull fell from Silas’s hands and he dropped the sword as though it was a red-hot poker. He let out a wild cry and ran from the place, pushing past the others, out into the cloister; his companions followed suit and the room was still.
The aftermath was strange and emotional. Nate was elated that they had saved the relics and was relieved that Silas was gone; but so many questions remained unanswered. He and Rob hugged Tom triumphantly and then turned to face the others. The older monk spoke first. He was hard to understand at first, speaking in a guttural, hard kind of English. It was difficult to follow, with only a few words recognisable, but as they listened his speech transformed into a more familiar form.
“My children ye have saved my most sacred of treasures and for this I thank thee all,” the elderly man smiled, “Yet ye cannot relax your efforts, for there are more tasks to fulfil, before the treasure is vouched safe. Help will be given, but ’tis your fate to resolve these toils and return the abbey to safe keeping. This is a great gift and yet ‘tis a great burden too…”
He made the sign of the cross and stepped back. The warrior king held out his hands for the treasures, uttering not a word. Tom picked up the skull and sword and placed it into his ghostly hands. The king bowed and he too stepped back. John Stell nodded in approval and he fell back in line with his unearthly companions. The air around them wavered and shifted, the images dimming and faltering in a haze. A loud crack of blue energy snapped and they were gone.
Only Chris was left. He looked at Nate with sadness in his eyes and smiled.
“You proved your worth lad I taught you well! But don’t think this is over, you’ve more to do… and more to discover… and your brother. Beware of those who are false, you won’t always know them but be on your guard…”
“Will I see you again?” gulped Nate.
“One day… you will, but I have borrowed time to set a wrong right; there will be others who can be relied upon.”
He smiled and turned around to walk away. As he did so a white mist shrouded his thin frame and only a faint outline could be seen. Nate took a deep breath and as he turned to face Tom, he knew that he too would soon go. His eyes filled with salty tears and he shivered.
He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“What about your stuff… your clothes… at our house?” he asked practically.
Tom smiled.
“I think thou canst keep them as a remembrance… and I have these garments of yours. A fair exchange is no robbery!” he chuckled.
A tear spilled down Nate’s cheek.
“Nay, friend, thou must not weep. Thou can be sure that if thou art in peril I shall be not far away… I must return to my time… and Dolly… for the bairn must soon be born…”
They hugged again and Rob shook him by the hand. Tom reflected for a moment and smiled affectionately at his future grandsons. The mist grew and spread, silently surrounding him. He was barely visible and as he ebbed like the grey tide, Nate could not help himself. He shouted, desperately, “Your baby… it will be a boy…” Tom turned sharply, speaking… but without sound, he was diminishing and fading.
“A boy!” yelled Nate, “And he’s my ancestor… so are you and Dolly… we’re family!” he called, emphasising his words.
Tom looked puzzled and could not make himself heard. Nate could not tell if he had heard what he had said and watched as his image slowly fractured and fragmented into millions of tiny points of light and then was gone.
CHAPTER 22
AFTERMATH
The two brothers stood entranced, staring into space for some moments. The whole episode had been totally mind blowing and shocking. Nate was sure he had aged ten years and promised himself to check for grey hairs when he got home. He wondered whether Rob was confused, entering into this weird adventure without the same knowledge that he had gained from his strange adventures. How much would he be able to tell him? How much would he believe?
“What did you mean, family?” Rob questioned.
Nate paused thoughtfully.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you…”
“Er… I think would!” contradicted Rob haughtily. “There are things that have happened to me recently, that you would not believe – seriously crazy stuff… people… well, I half don’t believe it myself!”
Nate’s attention was piqued.
“What you on about? Go on – tell us?”
“It would take too long… I’ll tell you on the way home… and our Rebecca… she’s something to do with all this too.”
Nate raised his eyebrows in surprise.
They walked silently from the abbey, having to climb over the fence… which they had not had to do when entering. Back then, of course, the fence had not existed. They wondered what had happened to Silas Dixon and his cohorts. He had vanished very quickly but they didn’t see where he went. They wondered whether he would re-emerge at some time in the future and whether they would see him again. Surely, everything was settled now the treasures were safe… but the monk had told them they were not yet finished, so who knew what would happen next.
As they walked slowly across the field at Bow Bridge a small branch flew from the other bank, hitting Nate on the shoulder. Both boys looked at where the stick had come from and there, across the river, was a boy. It was a boy in a school cap, coat and short pants… and clogs. His face was red with the cold and he stood feet apart with his hands on his waist, grinning from ear to ear, looking like a strange Peter Pan.
“It’s George! It’s…” Nate looked quickly at his brother, hesitating, not knowing whether to reveal the true identity of George.
“I know… it’s Granddad… like I said, it’s all been a bit weird recently!” he shrugged.
They looked over the river; a white mist was emerging from the banking.
“Oh no… don’t go yet… ”cried Nate desperately.
Rob grabbed his arm.
The boy waved sadly.
“I’ll see you again… I promise!” The mist wrapped itself around him and he was obscured momentarily. It cleared and in the boy’s place was the old man they knew as Granddad. He leaned on a gnarled old stick, dressed in his beige jacket and trilby hat. He smiled his infectious smile and waved at them again. He stood for some seconds watching them, his old eyes shining with tears. They caught a brief glimpse of the cheeky, skinny little boy who was his alter ego, and who had probably been the key part of his personality all his life. He had reached the grand age of eighty-one, but had never seemed old to them.
Abruptly, another familiar figure appeared behind him. It was John Stell. He beckoned George onwards into the haze and then both vanished from view, leaving only a single white, vibrant butterfly in their place.
The two boys walked home quietly, each immersed in their own private thoughts. Ahead of them they could see Rebecca and her friends; instinctively they knew that she had seen Granddad too and that they all had much to discuss. This business with the abbey treasure included her as well and those pesky kids… and seemingly, Rob too.
“So,” asked Nate at last, “what has been happening to you, Rob?”
“Well, it all began last summer… do you remember, when the garden was trashed?”
Of course he remembered… that was when it all began…
Silently, a black feather fluttered down from one of the trees along the lane unnoticed. As they walked along and discussed their adventures, neither of them saw the glossy shape of a magpie quietly rest on a branch above them. They were unaware of a second ebony magpie, with a flash of blue and white, alighting upon a fence post in the next field. They were oblivious of a third predatory bird perched upon a hawthorn bush.
&n
bsp; In the far field, behind some bushes, a figure stood, silently watching. He observed them unseen, cursing under his breath and swearing to himself that they would not overcome him again. This was not the end… it was the beginning.
AFTERWORD
Raven’s Hoard is the second in the Out of Time series of stories. The Furness peninsula features heavily again and where possible I have used real historical facts and information. The Cuthbert legends have been extended to include the story of St Oswald, and locating Viking raids around the north-west coast is derived from historical and archaeological evidence. The “hoard” mentioned is imaginary and as far as I am aware no such discovery has been made at Goadsbarrow. The mound exists in the topography of the area but Godi’s story is fictional, as is the Battle of Crivelton. However, the two swords discovered at Rampside did exist and the “Rampside” sword found by Jacob Helm and his son lies in the Dock Museum to this day – although its authenticity is not in question as suggested in the book.
The characters of Tom and Dolly are a confection of ideas prompted by family history and the real Tom was in fact a Customs Officer for Furness. Dolly was his second wife, but apparently came from the Concle Inn which was known for being on the periphery of the smuggling trade. Smuggling was greatly reduced by the late 1700s and I like to imagine that my ancestor was partly responsible for this.
Crispin Salter is loosely based around a local archaeologist who was very inspirational and charismatic. He sadly died but will always be remembered. I have taken certain liberties with the local archaeological community, the “sinister” characters are purely fiction, and bear no resemblance to any real “diggers” living or dead.
I must thank certain people for their assistance in research, access to artefacts and information for the book. The amazing staff at Barrow Archives, the Dock Museum, Barrow Borough Council, Furness Abbey all contributed. Once again I am indebted to the research acquired from the work of Alice Leach, Bill Rollinson, and Fred Barnes among others, who provided historical authenticity and information.
The places once again are identifiable and easy to visit, and I would urge anyone reading the book to do so. Rampside church is another lovely local church and worth a visit, as is the majestic Gleaston Castle and its earlier counterpart, Aldingham Motte. We are extremely lucky in Furness to have access to some amazing historical buildings, and I hope that my writing may inspire people to visit and treasure them as I do.
I must mention the two antiquarians, Harper Gaythorpe and W.B. Kendall who are mentioned in the book. They did exist and were at the forefront of early archaeology in the town. They were intended to have a walk on part originally, but strange things happened to dovetail their real stories with this fictional one. Their significance has therefore increased. The Helms existed and I used the actual report by Harper Gaythorpe and the local newspaper reports to glean as much detail as I could about the Rampside sword. This prompted a visit to see the actual sword (courtesy of K. Johnson and E. Critchley) which was a defining factor in the inclusion of the first Viking sword discovered in the same churchyard some years earlier.
Some of the words I use are distinctly northern and might sound unusual to readers not acquainted with them. However, I hope this better illustrates the flavour of the area in which the book is set.
I hope that you enjoy the story and that it will inspire and interest you to find out more about our rich history. The third book in the series is already begun, so the story does not end here.
Gill Jepson
www.gilljepson.co.uk
