by Gill Jepson
“What are you two doin’ haven’t we got some work to do? You know…” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “the chalice… we have to find it!”
Rob laughed out loud.
“It’s not funny… we need to find it before something bad happens.”
“Too late for that! Bad things have happened… not that you two sleeping beauties were any use!”
“What do you mean?” asked Rebecca.
He related the strange tale and both of them stared incredulously at him.
“That is a bit spooky,” said Nate, “I was dreaming all night last night and I kept seeing Tom and Dolly and you… and Silas… oh and George… but he was out for the count –he was ill…”
“I don’t think it was a dream. I think it was for real and you two somehow were able to witness it.”
“How come?” asked Nate.
“I dunno… but maybe because we’re family? And we are all connected to these treasures. Don’t you remember being ill? Both of you were so fast asleep I thought you’d never wake up… and if I hadn’t found the chalice I don’t think you would have done. We must take care to return it to the abbey, John Stell must have it, but how we will get there unseen I don’t know. One thing I do know, we mustn’t go near the old quarry – there’s something magic about that place and those monks are still up there, waiting to be freed. Well, I for one don’t want to be anywhere near if they get their wish…”
CHAPTER 22
DIVERSION
They put their worries behind them and raced downstairs to have breakfast. Nothing could be achieved on an empty stomach – so Nate said. They were all feeling more positive about this final task, after all they had vanquished the dark ones so many times, this could not be too difficult. Even so, Rob was nervous and insisted on checking on the chalice every few minutes, even though they had not left the house.
“We have to think of a way to return the chalice without being noticed. I’m sure if we reach the abbey safely we will be able to summon John Stell,” said Nate.
“But how will we get there? Those horrible magpies are perched everywhere,” remarked Rebecca. She had been watching them land silently, one by one on branches and fences around the house.
“Hmm. That’s a point. They do seem to be able to contact Silas… even in the eighteenth century added Rob ruefully.
*
They fell quiet and retreated into their own thoughts. It was a knotty problem. They decided that whatever happened, the chalice must not be left alone again. It must be carried with them. Rob suggested they stuck together, “after all they say there’s safety in numbers!”
“I know!” yelled Nate, “What if we each take a bag, they wouldn’t know who had the chalice and if we are split up we have more chance of fooling them! You know, like a decoy!” He was quite excited at the thought.
They each took a back-pack. Rob wrapped the chalice carefully in a towel and pushed it into his. Nate found a vase of a similar size and did the same, while Rebecca wrapped up a brass candlestick and placed it into her bag. They were satisfied that their ruse would work, or at least buy them time. The only other problem to solve was how to reach the abbey without being followed or stopped. By chance Dad was going to town and Rob suggested they hitch a lift.
“But town’s miles from the abbey, we’ll have to walk!” moaned Rebecca.
“Look we don’t want them to think we’re going to the abbey, do we? We have to pretend and distract them,” explained Rob.
“Ok but I don’t know how it’s gonna work…”
“Well, it’s our only chance, we have to try!” said Nate.
They told Dad they were going to the pictures. He was happy to drop them off at the Apollo cinema at Hollywood Park. They watched as he left and walked towards the cinema. The plan was for them to go to the cinema and then for Rob, to slip out and make his way to the abbey on foot or by taxi. Hopefully, they would not be detected, but it was not a totally convincing plan.
They had to make it look convincing and spent a lot of time arguing about which film to see. They bought popcorn and a drink and made their way to Screen Two. The theatre was fairly empty, so they were able to choose their seats. While they were waiting for the lights to go down Rob nudged them to listen.
“When the film starts I’ll nip down the stairs and go to the emergency exit. But you’ll have to stay till the end of the film!” he whispered.
“Too right we will,” said Nate stretching his legs carelessly over the empty seat in front. “I’m not paying for a film and then missing it.”
Rob raised his eyebrows. Rebecca giggled.
“Well at least it’s a decent film… Nanny McPhee!” she said, “It’s only been out since January!”
“Huh! So you say!” retorted Nate.
“Never mind the film! This is to put them off the scent! But keep your eyes open – you don’t know who’s around… and if anyone follows me you’ll have to distract them or something. You’ve got your bags if we take three different directions they won’t know who to follow.”
Nate chuckled, “It’s not an episode of Spooks y’know,” referring to Rob’s favourite TV programme about spies.
“It feels like it is. I don’t trust anyone now. Look!” he nodded towards an elderly lady eating ice cream, “She could be one of them.”
The old lady, rosy cheeked, plump and unconcerned did not look suspicious to Nate. He snorted contemptuously. He was used to his brother’s sense of drama.
The film got into full swing and was quite noisy. As soon as the audience was absorbed he slipped quickly down the steps and through the Emergency exit as he had planned. The adrenalin was racing through is veins and he smirked to himself as he began humming the theme tune to Spooks; at least it released the tension.
He emerged from the rear of the cinema and looked carefully before he ran towards the town. He ran through back streets and changed direction frequently, pausing now and then in doorways to check there were no magpies or other acolytes of Silas Dixon following him. He dodged the traffic on Abbey Road and sped into the park. He wanted to avoid a direct route and this would take him towards Newbarns and then he could double back to the abbey. He ran along the path, which led to the Cenotaph on top of the hill. It was a sacred place commemorating the dead from two World Wars. He had always been fascinated with it and had watched the Remembrance parades and even taken part in some as a boy scout.
The air ahead was hazy, like in a heat wave, but today was not warm. He knew what was about to happen and instead of trying to avoid it he let the temporal waves wash over him gently. He witnessed the Cenotaph disappear and the park receded. In its place was a barren grass covered hill. It was a massive earthwork, with ditches and ramparts. Stationed around were fierce looking tribesmen, wild and rugged, daubed with blue paint. They carried primitive spears and others herded cattle towards the pasture below. Smoke from wood fires rose from the enclosure and he could see squat round houses scattered around the base of the fortification. The park to the east was covered with trees as far as the eye could see and the countryside was as yet wild and untamed, with only small incursions from agriculture. He could only guess ‘when’ he was, but he had read somewhere that there had been an Iron Age settlement and hill fort at the site of the park. It looked primitive enough to be the ‘Black Castle’ of legend. He was rooted to the spot, unsure why he had been taken so far back in time. He was terrified the tribesmen would see him, they were fierce and he would not care to risk bumping into them.
He moved stealthily into the trees and tried to gain his bearings, his pulse was racing. He would have to attempt to travel to the location of the abbey. If this time frame continued he would have no real points of reference. Even the abbey would not yet be built. It was strange; a great power surged through the trees almost knocking him from his feet. Time was out of control; there were no constraints or boundaries any longer. He wondered if the recent events had fractured the natural order and this was why
he was ricocheting through different ages. The atmosphere wobbled and shook again; he witnessed colours, shapes and mysterious ghostly figures pass before his eyes. It was a surreal parade, intangible and ethereal. If you could ‘fast forward’ history this is what it would be like, he thought.
When the movement finally ceased he was amongst a crowd of people. Much to his relief he had been brought forward in time to more familiar surroundings. He was still in the Park and he could see a Cenotaph rising ahead, draped in two Union Jack flags. Military bands were playing and men, women and children stood respectfully as the mayor, Walker Fairbairn spoke. The time was the early twentieth century judging by the clothes and uniforms people wore.
Rob knew exactly where he was now. It had to be Armistice Day, 11 November. The year was 1921 when Barrow officially mourned and honoured their war dead of the Great War. He had read about this in history and was interested in this period. He had discovered information about his great, great uncles who had perished in the conflict and he was overawed to be witnessing such a moving episode in the town’s history. He knew that everyone around him would have known someone lost in the terrible war.
The sound of a buzzer split the silence… just as it had a Granddad’s funeral, a chill ran down his spine. This was followed by the loud boom of a field gun from the front; rolling like thunder and making the air around them vibrate. Silence prevailed at the eleventh hour and Field Marshal Sir William Robertson pressed a lever, which cut the cords attached to the flags. They fell smoothly to the ground revealing the pure white obelisk, piercing the blue sky and gleaming in the brilliant sunshine. A gasp went up from the crowd and people stared, some dabbing eyes with handkerchiefs, others choking back the tears and many straining to see their loved one’s name inscribed on the panels around the memorial. The Bishop of Carlisle presided over prayers and expressed a collective gratitude for the ultimate sacrifice that the men of the town had made. Rob stood stock-still. He felt tears prickling his eyes and began to understand the enormity of the loss to the town of over six hundred men. He shivered with emotion and realised how dreadful an impact this war must have had, not just on his own little town, but on the rest of the country too.
A hand grabbed his sleeve and tugged at it. He looked around and saw a young man, dressed in a railway man’s uniform. He looked strangely familiar. He was short and stocky, with a straight nose and clear blue eyes, which saw into his very soul. His sand coloured hair was already receding and was swept off his forehead. He smiled, eyes twinkling and spoke with a broad Cumberland accent.
“Tha needs t’ folla me lad! Yon li’le fella over there towld me that thou needs a lift up t’ abbey!” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. He caught sight of a scrawny kid in cap and clogs with rather large ears. It was George… but he faded as he watched and vanished without trace. Suddenly, Rob knew who he was speaking to. It was George’s father. Obviously, he had no knowledge of who the boy was. He had not been born yet. This grew stranger by the minute. George must still be trapped in his dream state… he must still be ill. Rob had assumed that he too would be released from the illness as his own brother and sister had been.
He looked at the young man – his own great-grandfather. He was going to be more familiar with his ancestors than his immediate family at this rate!
“C’mon then, we ’avn’t got all day! Get crackin’! Oh and I’m Ben by the way” As he walked away he lit his pipe and Rob followed the smell of the tobacco through the crowd. They walked down the hill to Abbey Road where Ben had left his horse and delivery wagon. He got up and beckoned Rob to join him. They set off with a jolt, but the ride was smoother than with John Jackson, at least this road was less pitted and better made. They trundled along the tree-lined road, it was less busy than in his own time, but had the addition of trams instead of cars zooming up and down. Rob turned around to see one as it rattled past.
“Hast tha not seen one of those afore lad?” Ben chuckled. “Is tha from up country?”
Rob grinned and nodded.
“’Was a moving service up at yon cenotaph right enough!” Ben continued, “I lost two brothers on the Somme so it’s nice t’ see all the lads who died remembered.”
Ben fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. He sucked on the pipe steadily and as they reached Manor Farm Rob began to feel apprehensive. He looked anxiously around him and was relieved not to see any magpies around. Ben noticed his nervousness and the fact that he jumped at every loud noise. They stopped near the old cottage, just as Jackson had done. Rob was having a real déjà vu sensation… but at least he knew that it was not just his imagination. He expected to see a magpie or two, but there were none. He got down from the delivery cart and turned to see Ben doing the same.
“Er thanks for the lift Ben…”
“I’ll be with thee fer a bit… ya seem all of a jitter,” he re-lit the pipe, “I have an idea tha might need help?” He examined Rob closely staring straight at him.
“That’s ok… honest!”
“Nay, I said I’d tag along… where ya headed?” he asked.
Silence. Where indeed? He hadn’t a clue where to start. Everywhere seemed sterile and peaceful. Perhaps this was a good thing. There was no indication of anyone watching them, but he was uncomfortable somehow and was secretly pleased that Ben was staying.
“Er… I have to return something, but I have to find the right person.”
Ben nodded impassively. He took off his jacket and laid it on the seat, he presented a formidable figure. Powerfully built he reminded Rob of a thick-set terrier they had once had. He suddenly felt safer; it would be a brave man who would confront this young man. Rob realised that he had probably seen more conflict and danger than he would ever see. He wondered how tough this man must be to survive the trenches and to come home and take up a normal life. Many failed – he knew, but somehow Ben had inner steel and was evidently a fighter.
They walked towards the abbey and approached the gate. A surprise greeted him. Mr Mason was there, dressed smartly in his Ministry of Works uniform and cap. He winked at him as they approached. Rob wasn’t sure if this meant he knew him from the future or was just being friendly. Rebecca had told him that Mason was from George’s time and could move between the different timelines-so it was hard to tell.
“Alright Ben?”
“Aye not bad Robert, we just want a little wander if that’s alright?”
The two men knew each other.
“How’s the missus? How’s your lad? When was he born?” asked Mason.
“July. He’s champion! We called him Bill after our kid…” Ben’s face crumpled a little at the memory of his brother.
Rob pricked his ears up. He reckoned that the baby must be George’s older brother. George was not due to arrive for another two years. How surprised Ben would be if he knew that another son and two daughters would follow at regular two-year intervals. He yearned to tell him who he really was. Mason pre-empted any attempt he might make by sending them on their way.
They wandered aimlessly around the abbey. Rob hoped that the monk would make an appearance. There must be some way to summon him. They walked across the cloister and towards the Chapter House. This was a significant place and had been where the sword had been claimed. They walked through the arch and there was nothing. No crackling energy, no feeling of dizziness… nothing! It was very disappointing and frustrating.
“So who is it tha’s looking for lad?” asked Ben.
“Er…”
“Go on…”
“Er… a monk,” he was almost embarrassed to admit to it.
“John Stell tha means?”
Rob tripped over his own feet he was so shocked.
“You know?”
“Course I do! It’s a family thing,” he laughed. “Way back we have summat t’ do with the family he came from… and we’re all part of the Brotherhood, y’know to protect the abbey and its treasures.”
“I wish you’d said…”
&nbs
p; “I have… now!” he laughed again, “Well we’d better get crackin’.”
He strode off towards the abbot’s house. Rob ran to keep up and as they reached the building. Ben disappeared through the remnants of a doorway and disappeared out of sight. He followed and caught sight of him vanishing into the tunnel, which ran beneath the abbot’s lodgings. He crouched down and followed him through the low passage. It wasn’t very long and they could see the other end easily. Rob wondered what the point was of travelling through such a small tunnel and then he remembered that this was the way he had originally entered James Ramsden’s time.
They emerged at the other end and immediately Rob could see immediately that they had found their way back to earlier times. The abbey was fully built, new and bright, the sandstone radiated a warm pink colour, which in the twenty-first century was obscured by lichens and damaged by acid rain and pollution. The bright sunlight enhanced the building and the carvings were sharp and as clear as the day they had been made. The stained glass windows caught the light and sparkled like a million prisms, refracting light beams into tiny rainbows that played across the grass. Ben continued on, undeterred by the current state of the building. As they approached the door into the transept they could hear the pure voices of the Quire monks. There was a service, judging by the time of day it was Nones the afternoon office. Ben concealed himself behind one of the huge pillars along from the presbytery. Rob followed suit. The service was over and the monks dispersed to the refectory to have their ale, to refresh them before their work. Ben slipped into the church and past the choir stalls. They walked into the cloister, which was empty.
Rob gasped. The cloister was an enclosed quadrangle, with a covered walkway. Here and there were small writing desks and wooden stools, the floors were covered with green glazed tiles, which reflected the light. On the north side light flooded in providing excellent working conditions for the abbey scribes. The cloister was used in summer as a scriptorium but in winter they retreated to the undercroft, beneath the dormitory. He and Ben stood in the shadows beside a huge cupboard, fashioned from one of the Norman arches along the east wall. A large wooden door was ajar, revealing shelves holding parchment, books, inks and goose feather quills. Rob was fascinated and had often wondered what the strange arches had held. Soon an elderly monk came along the cloister range towards them. It was John Stell.
