A House Out of Time

by Bruce Macfarlane

  Mr Batalia looked at the night sky and after a few minutes in which he and James referred to their notes he said, "No obvious change in the star fields. Shame about your house, Mrs Urquhart. Right, let's try another hundred years."

  We continued on our travels, stopping every hundred years for observation, until about 1060 when the woodland cleared and the even the house’s wooden frames vanished leaving just a small stone building. It reminded me of the small Saxon church recently discovered wedged between some buildings in Bradford-upon-Avon near Bath and in my time was being restored to its original state.

  Suddenly James shouted "Stop! Marco. Look at this."

  Mr Batalia stopped the time machine and came over to us.

  “This house is old. Those pillars in the porch must be Roman but look at the window mullions - they seem to be machine tooled."

  "Good God! You're right. That didn’t happen ‘till the Victorian period. Shall we have a look?"

  James immediately replied, “Not yet, Marco. Let's finish the job we came to do."

  "You’re right. Let's look at the stars."

  Betelgeuse and Rigel had disappeared. Only the Dog Star still shone alone low in the sky. The sky was almost totally black save for a few bright stars which must have been our near neighbours. We were getting close to the edge of time.

  ---------------------------

  J.

  We had reached 600 AD. The countryside had been transformed from fields of corn to a devastated landscape covered with swathes of broken and fallen trees. It was as though a great tidal wave had swept across the land destroying all in its path. Not a soul was to be seen and the night sky was now almost empty save for Sirius and Procyon. But in the midst of this destruction, Elizabeth’s house stood alone and untouched. We slowed down to one year a minute. When we reached 558 AD Procyon disappeared. There was just the Dog Star shining bright above the horizon. Then at 544 AD it vanished. Marco immediately stopped the machine.

  “OK, everyone we’ve got no guidance now. Call me a coward if you like but I’m going to reduce the steps to a day at a time.”

  We totally agreed.

  After about half an hour when we reached 540 AD I noticed a light on the horizon.

  I said, “What’s that, Marco?”

  “I don’t know,. Let’s take it slowly.”

  Unfortunately, as he said that he accidently moved us back a month.

  “My God, what's that?”

  We looked out. At first it seemed a black curtain had descended on the world and someone had drawn a pencil of light across it. Then I realised what it was. A mighty comet rising in the eastern sky. It was frighteningly large and seemed to hang stationary in the air. From the ball of the comet two long wispy tails stretched down below the horizon. I had only ever seen paintings or drawings of comets before or through a telescope which normally just showed a blurry smudge of light but this was different. This was really different! This was a thing that frightened the life out of you. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to people used to living in a fixed small universe.

  I said, “Do you think this is the cause of the time edge?”

  Elizabeth said, “I do not know, James, but seeing such an apparition suddenly appear in the sky, even with the knowledge I have now, would make me think my time had come.”

  I replied, "Well, I think this thing is telling us we are now very close to where the end of time is. Move forward into the day time, Marco. Let's see what we've got”.

  The wreckage of trees now covered an almost barren landscape, peppered with small clumps of couch grass but the house or building seemed untouched.

  As we surveyed the desolate countryside Marco said, "Ok. I think this is the time to have a closer look at this building. It’s just not the stonework that worries me. It's survived almost un-weathered up to the sixteenth century and occupies exactly the spot where Elizabeth's house will stand. Is that a coincidence? There's something strange about it.”

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  E.

  I must admit I was not too willing to leave the comfort of our machine but I could see if we needed to understand this adventure we had to do as he said.

  We moved the machine as close to the house as we could. The sky was wild with ragged clouds racing across a weak midday sun. In the west, dark clouds were gathering lit here and there by hidden bolts of lightning. As James opened the door and we alighted on to the ground we were greeted by a blast of dusty cold air. I was glad I had changed into my Victorian clothes. Between the two Roman pillars of what seemed to be the entrance was the familiar recessed arch and wooden studded door, or so I thought, for when James touched it he said it felt like the texture of metal. At that point, expecting some unknown trickery, I hastily looked behind me and was reassured to see our time carriage was still there.

  Marco said, “Shall I knock?”

  We both nodded though not without some considerable nervousness on my part for my mind now held an image of a savage creature from the Dark Ages with a large axe waiting inside to murder us or worse. A moment later the door opened and we were confronted by a blank wall like that in my home of the future. But before we could say or do anything my father’s head and then his body emerged like a corpse floating to the surface of a pond. I now understood why Jill screamed when she had seen James’ head unexpectedly appear through the front door of my house for mine was of a similar volume.

  When I has recovered I said, “Father! What are you doing here?”

  “Ah! You have arrived, Lizzy. Well done. Please come in. Mr Wells is waiting for you.”

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  Chapter 8

  J.

  We followed Elizabeth’s father through to what I took to be the parlour. Expecting some Dark Age open fire and straw-strewn floor I was astonished to find it had all the modern trappings of a late Victorian house complete with a stove range and a welsh dresser displaying the latest willow patterned plates. Hyatt was sitting on a battered upholstered rocking chair which looked like it had been banished from the drawing room years ago for the crime of being too comfortable and was drinking what smelt deliciously like cocoa. Wells was on a three-cornered stool by the open grate holding a thick slice of bread over the smouldering embers. Oh, and I nearly forgot, perched on the sideboard inside one of those upturned glass jars normally reserved for dead endangered species was a winged Martian. It was certainly playing the part of a stuffed creature for it was motionless. However, what was more disconcerting were its eyes which were open and looking straight at me!

  I blinked. When I opened my eyes again to my surprise I found it was still there. Usually when I tried to look at them on Earth directly they vanished.

  When Wells saw me he said. “Ah, Mr Urquhart. Welcome. I see you have noticed our little friend. Oh, and your good wife too. And my favourite loose cannon Mr Batalia. What year is it out there?”

  I said we thought it was 540 AD.

  “Then you stopped just in time, if you’ll excuse the play on words. How did you know?”

  I told him how we used the distance of the visible stars to calculate the edge of time.

  “Ah, the wonders of science. What would we do without it? But you must be hungry. Would you like some tea and toast? I have some nice strawberry jam fresh from my garden.”

  I’d forgotten how good the taste and smell of lightly toasted fresh bread were.

  When we had finished, I said. “Ok. You know why we are here. What are you doing here? And what’s the Martian doing in the corner?”

  Wells looked at us and said, “So many questions. Please come into the drawing room. It is more comfortable for a story there although Mr Hyatt prefers this room because of that armchair.”

  Hyatt pretended to be hurt and replied, “But Wells it is such a comfortable chair. I’m sure it could be tolerated in the drawing room.”

  To which Wells, resting his hand on Hyatt’s shoulder, replied, rather sympathetically, “Mr Hyatt
, you know, that would upset the symmetry.”

  And then we followed Wells down a corridor lined with pictures and etchings of what seemed to be very undressed reclining winged nymphs and shepherds with background landscapes of snow-capped mountains. I thought they didn’t seem to mind the cold.

  --------------

  E.

  I helped James along the corridor suggesting as we went that this was not the time to stop and examine the finer points of eighteenth century brush strokes and pencil lines.

  When we arrived at the end of the hall I was greeted to my complete surprise with almost an exact copy of my drawing room at Hamgreen.

  “Do you like it, Lizzy?” said my father. I was about to reply with a hundred questions when I noticed on the side board an exact replica of the jar with the Martian we had seen in the parlour. I wondered whether it was the same one.

  “Now, please sit down,” said Wells, ignoring the obvious direction of my gaze, “Are you sitting comfortably?"

  We arranged ourselves as well as we could. James and I sat on a dark green sofa embroidered with game birds. Mr Batalia decided to stand by the fireplace. He did not seem relaxed in the presence of the Martian.

  "Very well then," said Mr Wells. "Let me begin and try to explain what I think I have understood from our little friends. You remember the great catastrophe on Mars when the third moon crashed to the surface and destroyed the seas? Good. Unfortunately, it was not only Mars that suffered. Due to the vagaries of gravity, the orbit and pull of Jupiter, etcetera, which I could not begin to calculate, the great comet of Mr. Halley came close to Mars and interacted with the third moon. This affected the comet’s orbit resulting in it coming dangerously close to our world. You may have noticed it in the sky when you arrived?”

  Seeing that we all nodded though slightly open-mouthed, he continued, “When the comet first appeared in the sky, it caused the usual commotion from crackpots and charlatans heralding the end of the world. However, this time their predictions almost came true.”

  James said, rather too flippantly, I thought, "The firework display must have been spectacular."

  "Yes, they were, Mr Urquhart. And well documented," said Wells and continued: "The consequences of this dreadful event did not occur immediately. There were many weeks during which the unfortunate souls on Earth could observe their impending doom. And when it fell to Earth it was catastrophic although luckily not as severe as that on Mars. This was of course no compensation to those who experienced it. The destruction caused sufficient damage in this part of the world to destroy the embryos of a new civilisation that was emerging.”

  James said, “Was this around 536 AD by any chance?”

  “Exactly,” said Mr Wells, “It was not the best time for such an event to occur. The Romans had left Britain over a hundred years before and due to changes in sea levels the Saxons were arriving here looking for a new home causing much conflict with the Britons. They were a rather primitive race in the eyes of the those who had lived with, or remembered, the Roman world but although they did not use stone they were fine carpenters and metalworkers. I’m sure you have seen their handiwork in museums. There had been some effort for the two races to accommodate each other but the arrival of the fragments from Mars, which are recorded in the literature as fiery comets, destroyed any hope of unity.”

  “And so the real Dark Ages in Britain began,” said Mr Batalia.

  “Yes.” said Mr Wells.

  I had listened to this with great interest as I understood this was the time of King Arthur who had become very fashionable in my father's time. He had taken me as a child to the House of Lords and the Queen's Chamber where displayed on the walls were illustrations of tales of King Arthur from Mallory's book. I must admit I didn't completely share his enthusiasm. I had read Lord Tennyson's great poem on the Idylls of a King but found it a little too dull and flowery. James had great enthusiasm for all Victorian Arthuriana but possibly because I had grown up surrounded by it, like all generations, I preferred a fashion of a more distant past. For me the baroque was the place and time of choice.

  However, when I mentioned King Arthur to Mr Wells he was quite adamant that he did not exist. He had met a certain Ambrosius Aurelius less than a year before here in the sixth century who, when he discovered his exploits had been attributed to Arthur, who according to Mr Wells was an invention of a certain Geoffrey Arthur of Monmouth in the twelfth century, was apparently very much upset.

  --------------------

  J.

  Although Wells’ story filled in a few holes he had not answered the real question. I thanked him for the information then said, “So why does time stop at this catastrophe which I understand was only about four years ago from now."

  He said, “I'm not sure, Mr Urquhart. I was waiting for you to find out."

  "Oh thanks. No pressure then," I said and wondering whether I was carrying a large cone on my head inscribed with a big letter ‘D’. "But first can you tell me how you got here and what is this place?"

  "This place is a kind of stasis in time. If you could go back far enough to the Bronze Age you would find this was a burial mound with a portal to Mars. It was one of the first places on Earth the Martians visited. It is rather special because it allows movement through time but as a consequence it generated eddies or whirlpools of time. You inadvertently discovered one at the Cricket Club which led to you to your future wife."

  "You didn't plan that, did you, Wells?"

  "No. That was all your own work."

  In this current situation I wasn’t quite sure whether to be gratified or not.

  "So what is this place?"

  "It is my house. It survives and remains untouched because it stretches through time from its construction in the fourth century. And before you ask why it was constructed, the local Romans built it to hide the pagan burial mound."

  Elizabeth said, "Then if this is your house how did my family arrive here?"

  At this point her father joined the conversation.

  “You remember I said my good friend Mr William Dawes had given me a map of the canals of Mars, James?”

  I remembered it well and the three or four glasses of whiskey that went with it. “Yes, it was a pleasant evening."

  "And you also remember that sometimes late at night William and I, on our walks back from the Lammastide, had seen the Martians?"

  At this point Elizabeth interrupted. "Father! You used to tell me that you and Mr Dawes were at Chilbury at a Bridge Club. Instead while I was looking after Flory I discover you were out supping ale!"

  "But, Lizzy, you were such a good baby sitter and I so enjoyed your hot chocolate when I returned."

  I squeezed Elizabeth 's hand because we needed to get his story.

  He noticed and giving her a father's sympathetic smile continued. "What I hadn’t said was how long we had been seeing them. They had been around us, Lizzy, for a long time. So long in fact they were known to your grandfather. They are the reason why we live at Hamgreen."

  Little by little, questions unanswered and questions unasked began to fall into place.

  “Your grandfather, Lizzy, was quite a lively character. I wish you had met him. Unfortunately, he died before you were born. You would have liked him. He was a gentle and tolerant man who had managed, despite a rather varied life style, to reach the grand old age of eighty. However, in his younger years, just after the turn of the century, he was well known in Bath Society which I’m sure you can imagine required a certain expenditure. Unfortunately, it was not an expenditure commensurate with his incomes despite his success in investing in some of the grander squares and crescents. But I digress again. One day while walking home from a rather late soiree at his Club across the Pulteney Bridge he noticed strange lights in one of the shops. Hs curiosity took the better of him.”

  He stopped and turned to Elizabeth and said with a grin. “You see, Lizzy, it runs in the family.”

  He then continued. “He opened the shop do
or which rang a bell. At first he saw no one for he found he was distracted by a most peculiar room full of what he thought were strange nautical devices. But then he noticed behind a bench a gentleman in unusual costume studying a map. On seeing my father, he stood and shaking his hand said, ‘Good Evening Mr Bicester, I hoped you would drop in. My father assures me they were the exact words!”

  I looked at Wells who was feigning complete disinterest with his feet up on a cushion looking at the Martian. I said to him, “And I presume that was you, Wells. You do get around, don’t you? How many shops have you got?” for I remembered I’d met him in such a shop in Charing Cross the year before I met Elizabeth.

  Wells pretended to ignore my remark and continued to look at the Martian while Elizabeth’s father continued: “He said he had a proposition for him. My father who at that time was a little concerned with the direction in which his money was flowing and possibly had taken more drink than was sensible for a young man listened with interest.

  “It was a simple proposition. The gentleman wished my father to have a house in Sussex where he and his family could live gratuitously for as long as they wished providing they would accommodate certain visitors from time to time. My father, possibly aided by the evening's wine and port, saw this as an opportunity not to be missed and agreed, on the provision that he saw the place first. A week later he was safely ensconced here and found as a consequence the river on which his monies was sailing away had come to halt. So there you are.”

  “And I presume these visitors included creatures like the one in that jar over there?” I said.

  “Exactly, Mr Urquhart. They have been no trouble at all. They just come and go.”

  “Except now and again you experience inexplicable time shifts.”

  “Of course. My father and I have seen many places and times.”