by Emma Snow
Who were they? Why were they in the castle grounds after dark and where were they going in such a hurry? He ran for his car, hoping to catch up with them before they vanished into the night.
FIFTY-NINE
Timothy explained while Ben drove. “He wants a sacred space to do it, he needs one.”
“So what was wrong with the altar?”
“It wasn’t enough. A little chapel in a castle. He needs something purer. The abbey was one of the most important Christian sites in the country. Still is. There’s nowhere else like it round here until you get to York Minster and he’d never be able to get in there. Plus he might not make it in time. But the abbey, hop over the wall and you’re in. No one would be any the wiser.”
“You’re sure?”
“Trust me.”
The car skidded to a halt, Timothy looked up. “What’s that?”
“A sodding tree.”
Ben climbed out. An enormous oak had been blown down by the storm, completely blocking the road.
“What do we do now?” Timothy asked.
“We run,” Ben replied.
Timothy followed him to the edge of the road where Ben was already clambering through the branches of the tree, getting over the trunk and down onto the verge on the other side. He held out a hand to Timothy who managed to get over with some difficulty. He had barely got his feet down before Ben was running, the light of the torch swinging in front of him as he continued up the hill.
“How far is it?” Timothy asked, wincing as his heart lanced pain into his chest again.
“About three miles,” Ben called back over his shoulder. “You can wait here if you want.”
“Never,” Timothy said through gritted teeth, rubbing his chest as he spurred himself forwards.
SIXTY
D.C.I Gregg found their car with the doors open and the lights still on. The key was in the ignition. They’d clearly been stopped by the fallen tree from driving any further. He climbed through the branches and squinted, looking down the road. There was a light in the distance ahead of him. He followed it on foot, keeping his own torch in his pocket, not wanting to alert them to his presence. Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t good.
He had thought about calling in the number plate but had decided time was not on his side. He called in help for the tree before the signal died. He could turn back but he refused to stop. More important to keep them in view, the light was already vanishing down the side of the hill.
He didn’t know the area as well as Ben. He didn’t know about the shortcut through the woods to get to the abbey. At that point, he didn’t even know they were headed towards the abbey. He followed along the road, turning off onto a single track lane, the wind howling around him as he did his best to keep the light in view. He hoped his message got through. There had been no acknowledgement, the storm playing merry hell with his phone signal.
SIXTY-ONE
The candles in the lanterns kept going out. They weren’t solidly constructed enough to keep out the wind. It was a little calmer in the valley but the storm was still making itself known.
Martha was soaking wet. She had come to in the driving rain, no idea where she was. Looking up, she saw him at the altar. He was tying Jenny down to it, ignoring her muffled cries, muttering something in Latin.
“You’re dead,” she said, trying and failing to get to her feet. She looked down, seeing the ropes holding her in place. For some reason her first thought was, ropes, not zipties, how old fashioned.
A hysterical giggle almost bubbled up but the sight of the knife in his hand was enough to quash it completely. She thought she was dreaming, it couldn’t be real. He was dead. He couldn’t be standing there in front of her.
“Purity from the past and purity from the present,” he said as he turned away from Jenny to look at Martha. “Thy will be done.”
“Please,” she said, shuffling backwards in her bonds, feeling them loosen around her wrists. In his excitement, he hadn’t tied her tightly enough. Either that or the journey to the abbey had shaken them loose. How had he gotten her there? She couldn't remember. “Don’t.” She wanted him to talk to her, not to notice her trying to force her wrists free.
“I have to,” he replied and for a moment he looked upset, as if he was being forced to do this. “I’m saving us all. You will be honoured up there. You will thank me when you see the truth.”
He pointed at the sky, blinking as the rain fell into his eyes.
“They love you, Martha.” He turned his eyes down to her, running the edge of the knife between his fingers, a drop of blood falling, mingling with the rain. “It’s time to put away our childish games and carry out the job for which we special ones were chosen.”
SIXTY-TWO
Ben whispered into Timothy’s ear. “Ready?”
Timothy nodded.
Ben moved deeper into the darkness.
It had taken too long to get to the abbey but they'd finally made it. He’d had to slow to a jog for a spell near the end, his lungs unable to keep up with the pace he wanted to maintain. Slowing had allowed Timothy to catch up with him and together they reached the abbey grounds a few minutes later, seeing the lantern light, knowing he was there. They tiptoed towards him, moving as quietly as they dared.
He could see the flickering lights on the altar but they were extinguished a moment later. By the time they were relit he’d moved forwards, getting ready, Timothy beside him. They whispered the plan to each other before waiting for the right moment. When the candles went out again, they both began to move. He had seen the man holding the knife. He’d seen the girl tied to the altar. He couldn’t see Martha but the man was looking down. She was presumably on the ground near him, hidden by the pillar that soared up to the remains of the ceiling. He needed to time it right. He couldn’t risk running forwards. By the time he got to the altar, the knife could be in the girl or Martha.
SIXTY-THREE
Samuel had not been there long. He had no idea anyone was coming for him. He felt shielded by his Gods, by his mother, who he knew was watching, proud of him for the first time. His excitement had given him strength but it had still been an arduous journey. It hadn’t been easy to carry Martha’s unconscious body and force Jenny to walk the three miles from Helmsley to Rievaulx but he’d done it in the end.
Getting Jenny to cry had been easy, reeling in Martha like a fish on a hook. The girl might have screamed a warning at the last minute but it was too late by then. He had them both right where he wanted them. Then all he had to do was get to Rievaulx, to the sacred spot, the high altar. He could feel a buzz in the air, the comet was getting closer. Would he be taken up with them? Would they be made his wives? He grinned at the thought, looking down at Jenny and thinking how good she would look in his bed. On the cusp of womanhood. He would induct her into his world just like he'd done with Martha. She would love him for it. Sure, she might fear him at first, but she would eventually thank him. He was doing her a favour. She should be grateful.
He carried Martha in a fireman's lift. He never once thought she would come to on the journey, it was too close to the moment, the end of the game, the start of reality, his new reality. It would all change once he made the offering. The Gods would protect him.
Somehow it was all the more satisfying to have walked. They had made the pilgrimage together. The idea to do so had come to him during Martha’s talk to the tour group. The abbey high altar would be much more suitable for a task as important as his. Making a pilgrimage to it made things even more perfect. The weather didn’t concern him. He knew that the skies would clear eventually. The Gods favoured him. They wouldn't let him down and he wouldn't let them down.
When he got to Rievaulx, he climbed over the wall, shoving Jenny on and up the hill to the church. He watched as she climbed onto the altar, still crying. The pure tears of terror, they made him smile.
He had tied Jenny down to the altar using the ropes he'd hidden. He set Martha down on the ground besid
e him. Now all he had to do was wait for the comet to reveal itself to him. Then he would finish the game. He would make the offering. He would become a God among men. Her body would be his plaything and it would be glorious.
SIXTY-FOUR
The Gamesman was looking at the sky when Martha got her hands loose. He was smiling. The clouds had separated in a tiny spot, just enough to reveal the night sky behind. He lifted the knife above his head, still looking up, poised over Jenny’s squirming body. "I offer her up to you, my Gods," he shouted over the wind.
Martha got slowly to her feet. When she’d first woken up and seen him, the child in her had screamed, wanting nothing but to run and hide. But she had seen Jenny looking at her and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave the innocent little girl to her fate. She pushed aside her own terror, becoming strangely calm as she undid the rope around her ankles.
Still he hadn’t looked at her. He was continuing his speech, his attention on the sky. She leapt up and ran at him, her hands clenched, the fury of her ruined childhood contained within them.
He noticed her at the last second. She landed one punch but it wasn’t enough, her second fist sliced through empty air. He pushed her backwards. She tripped over a loose stone in the grass and fell onto her back. “Patience,” he said, putting his foot on the centre of her chest. “Your turn next.” He pressed down and she felt her ribs on the verge of cracking.
She was sure he was going to break her in two but he stopped, wrenching her upright and then throwing her against the altar. Her head caught the corner of the stone and she bit her lip to avoiding screaming, falling limp onto the grass, keeping still as the sound of a man shouting came down from above the nave. Someone was out there on the grass, calling Samuel’s name. Her head hurt more than it ever had before.
“Mother?” Samuel said.
The distraction was enough. Martha slid one hand slowly upwards to the ropes holding Jenny in place. Samuel was moving towards the shouting voice, giving her time to get up and work Jenny loose.
She felt dizzy as she fiddled with the knot but at last she got Jenny out of the bonds and together they moved into the darkness, away from the light of the lanterns. They ran to the end of the nave and through a gap in the stonework. As she leapt through, a hand grabbed her and she screamed.
SIXTY-FIVE
Ben couldn’t believe it had worked. Timothy was still shouting and Samuel had disappeared towards him, into the darkness. He hoped Timothy would realise and move further away. He noticed that he still had hold of Martha and slowly loosened his grip on her chest. He shushed her as he did so, pulling her down with Jenny beside her, putting a finger to his lips.
They sat together in silence, the only noise other than the wind was that of Timothy's shouting. Ben was about to move when the tip of a knife appeared through the gap in the nave wall. It was barely visible in the gloom but with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the lightness against the wall behind it. The knife moved slowly forwards, fingers gripped tightly around the handle. He bristled, getting ready to jump up.
Samuel was already coming for them. The figure moved silently through the gap in the wall and stopped, eyes fixed on Martha. He didn't even acknowledge Ben.
"Time to finish the game," he snarled, lunging down to grab her. Jenny screamed, scuttling backwards as Ben leapt up. Samuel batted him away with his free hand, sending him thudding into the wall. As Ben scrambled to his feet, Samuel leaned down once more, reaching out to grab Martha's arm.
She still had the stone she’d picked up in her hand. As Samuel took hold of her, all of the fear within her turned to rage and she swung her arm upwards, slammed the stone against the top of his head before he even knew what was happening. He looked surprised by the blow, his eyes widening as he dropped the knife, his fingers running through the blood that began gushing down his face.
“I-” was all he said as he staggered backwards, falling to the ground a second later. He tried to turn over as Martha ran over to him. She stood over him and roared as she struck another blow to his head. She would have hit him again but Ben caught her arm, turning her away, wrapping her up in an embrace. “It’s over,” he said, looking down at the shadowy form of the Gamesman's corpse, the bloody stone on the ground next to him. “It’s all over.”
SIXTY-SIX
D.C.I Gregg had followed the light of the lanterns into the abbey grounds. It seemed to take forever to descend the hill into the valley where the abbey lay hidden. He maintained light discipline throughout, ever wary of being spotted. Halfway down the hill, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He listened to two voicemails that came through at once, just before the signal died again. The locals were on the way to block off the road and to follow on down to the valley as soon as they could. A farmer had been woken up to bring his tractor out and shove the tree trunk off the road to let the cars through once more.
When he lost the light of the torch, he put on a burst of speed but that only made him trip over the roadside verges as he almost fell into the river beside him. He paused, squinting as he looked ahead through the rain. In the distance there was a twinkling light and he honed in on that, marching as quickly as he dared.
By the time he got there, it was all over. He found two adults and a child standing next to the body at the end of the nave. There was no one by the altar, just two lanterns with candles ablaze inside. It didn’t take long to work out what had happened. He led the group out of the abbey and into the car park, sitting them down under the shelter by the visitor centre, keeping the worst of the rain off them. He told them that back up was coming. They would to answer some questions but he’d do his best to keep them for as little time as possible. Then Timothy appeared out of nowhere.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Timothy found them under the shelter. He had held out in place for as long as he could, shouting ridiculous threats at Samuel, hoping to tempt him away from the altar. At first it seemed to work. From his hiding place on the hillside, he'd seen Jenny and Martha escape, Samuel heading towards him. But then he'd turned away, as if coming out of a trance. He'd walked to the end of the nave and then through the gap.
For a long time Timothy had stayed there. He'd heard noises but hadn't dared to move, his heart stabbing him in the chest and making him pray for the first time in many years. Just let me last a few more minutes.
When the pain finally subsided, he saw torch light down the near the visitor centre. He made his way towards it, stepping out into the car park and seeing his granddaughter safe in Martha's arms. The detective who'd interviewed him what felt like a lifetime ago was there too, he was the one holding the torch.
"Granddad!" Jenny shouted, jumping up when she saw him.
Timothy caught D.C.I Gregg's eye. The detective nodded slightly at him before turning away. Jenny leapt into his arms and he held her for a long time, his tears soaking into her hair. It was hard to believe she was safe. That it was over. But that was what Gregg was saying into the phone. One body. Presumed to be Samuel Lyons. Believed to have tripped and fallen onto a loose stone, died instantly.
Ben and Martha sat together on the seat in the shelter, holding hands. The detective stood apart, watching the four of them, talking into his phone. Above them all, the clouds slid back together, the clear section of sky vanishing. The comet came and went. Up on the altar, the candles went out one last time. This time no one relit them.
EPILOGUE
It was an unusually warm week. It was half term and the castle was filled with visiting families. A few of them stood for a spell to watch the two old men playing chess. They didn't watch for long, the kids would get bored and wander off, parents in tow.
Timothy sat on one side of the table. Peter sat on the other. Timothy had just moved his knight and was putting Peter’s Queen under pressure. Neither of them minded who won. They were just glad to be playing. Peter moved his pieces slowly, concentrating on the motion of his fingers. The game was helping his recovery. It was helping Timothy�
��s too. His heart was still giving him pain but it was nothing like as bad as it had been. He hoped never to need to run like that again. He wasn't sure he would survive it.
Timothy looked up when his daughter appeared next to him. “Good afternoon Cathy,” he said. “How are you?”
"I brought her. She wouldn't stop going on about it."
"I asked how you are. How are you, Cathy?"
"How do you think I am? You nearly get your Granddaughter killed and now you act like nothing happened. I can't believe she still wants to see you."
"I think she likes it here. So do I. You might like it up here too."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
He turned from his daughter to Peter. "I'll be back in a minute."
The conversation lasted a long time. Timothy was patient. Cathy shouted, then cried, then sat and listened. Then they hugged for the first time in years. After the talk was over, Jenny came up to her Granddad. “Mum says she asks you to look after me and this happens. She wants to know why I’d want to come back here so soon. She tried to get me to stay at home.”
“Why did you come back?” Timothy asked.
“Because I want to spend time with you.”
“Tell her that,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “And tell her that’s the power of family. Then ask her if she wants to stay for the picnic.”
Once the game was finished, which Peter won, against expectations, the picnic was retrieved and laid out on the grass. To the visiting families, it looked like just any other picnic. But they didn’t know the story behind it. Or how hard it had been to bring all these people together.
Timothy and Peter sat in camping chairs. Jenny sat with her mother on the red and green striped blanket. Beside them was Martha, Ben serving out the sandwiches next to her.
