by carl ashmore
‘Why, the Lady Marian, of course…’
*
A few minutes later, deep in the forest, Becky and Joe were standing on a wooden platform at the base of an oak tree. Thick with age, its huge, gnarled roots clung to the ground like giant fingers. Becky looked up and marvelled at the structure, the size of a small bungalow, lodged between the tree’s branches. Will stood beside her, clasping a lever attached to a series of wheels, pulleys and ropes that scaled the trunk like vines.
‘Ready?’ Will asked.
Upon Becky’s nod, the platform took to the air. Climbing higher, she grew breathless as the Hall, the lake, the maze and even the distant village of Addlebury unfolded before her. She followed Joe off the platform onto a spacious veranda, her eyes soaked up every bit of detail.
‘So where’s Marian?’ Joe asked impatiently.
‘I’ll get her.’ Will whistled loudly and looked over the blanket of treetops that lined the horizon. A treetop stirred and, to Becky’s surprise, a giant bird rose into the air.
‘This -’ Will said, ‘- this is Marian.’
Hiding her initial disappointment, Becky watched as the bird soared towards them. Extending its claws, it landed on the balcony rim and gave a triumphant yelp. Becky stepped backwards, stiff with fear.
‘Do not be alarmed,’ Will responded, as Marian pecked affectionately at his fingers. ‘She will not harm you.’
‘What kind of bird is she?’ Joe asked.
‘A Golden Eagle. Stroke her. She will approve.’
Becky and Joe gathered their courage and inched towards her, their hands outstretched, until they touched the eagle’s neck.
‘She’s beautiful.’ Becky said.
‘Methinks she knows,’ Will whispered.
Becky and Joe coddled Marian for a few minutes and then watched as she flew off deep into the forest. Will brought a jug of apple juice and three goblets and together, they settled back to enjoy the view.
‘Do you ever miss your own time?’ Becky asked.
Will thought for a second. ’I miss my friends, the untouched countryside, the purity of the air. It was a simpler time. Things have changed a great deal in eight hundred years, much of it for the worse.’
Becky drew a breath. ‘So was there a Maid Marian? I mean one without a beak...’
Will paused. ‘There was another Marian, yes.’
‘And were you two, well, you know?’
‘We were but acquaintances. That is all.’
‘But the legend says that Robin Hood falls in love with -’
‘I am not Robin Hood. Furthermore, Marian was betrothed to another …’ His gaze shifted to Becky’s neck. ‘Perhaps, if I’d have been a wealthy man and could have presented her with such gifts -’ he nodded at the pendant, ‘- then our fate would have been very different…’
Becky teased it between her fingers. ‘It’s my lucky pendant,’ she said proudly. ‘My dad gave it to me before he died. I’ve never taken it off since.’
‘Tis a most beautiful trinket.’
She looked down at the stone and her smile faded. But then a thought struck her. A wonderful thought! ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said abruptly. ‘Joe, you stay here!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Joe said.
‘Just stay here!’
Moments later, a bewildered Will lowered Becky to the ground. Before the platform reached the bottom, she had leapt off and disappeared into the forest. Bursting out of a gap in the trees, she sprinted over the archery field, over the lawn, and into the kitchens, hurtling past a baffled Jacob.
‘Did you find your brother, Miss?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Is everything well?’
‘Couldn’t be better,’ Becky replied. ‘Where’s Uncle Percy?’
‘The library,’ Jacob replied. ‘I believe, he’s - ’
But Becky had gone. She scaled the stairs in record time, and was soon standing at the library door. She hurled it open to see Uncle Percy surrounded by books and an unfurled scroll of brown parchment. He looked up.
‘What’s the matter, Becky?’
Becky marched over. ‘I want you to take me back in time.’
‘I am taking you back in time. In fact, I’ve got a -’
‘No,’ Becky interjected. The widest of smiles crossed her lips. ‘I only want to go back six years. I want us to stop my dad going on that boat trip. We can stop my dad from dying...’
*
Uncle Percy exhaled a very deep sigh. ‘Becky, please sit down,’ he said solemnly.
Becky sat down, her feet tapping the floor. Why wasn’t he as excited as her?
Uncle Percy rolled up the parchment slowly. ‘You must listen to me, carefully. I did venture back to try and save your father…I did try to stop his boat setting out to sea. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. No matter what I did, no matter how far I went back, your father set sail, a terrible storm set in and he never came back.’
Becky’s face dropped. A dull silence clouded the room.
Uncle Percy continued, his face growing wearier with each word. ‘What I’m about to tell you is the single most inexplicable occurrence in time travel. Furthermore, I have no answers that will make this any easier for you. All I can say is that sometimes things that have happened can be changed, and sometimes they can’t.’
‘You tried to save him?’ Becky whispered.
Uncle Percy nodded miserably. ‘Many times. You see, I thought the world of your father, and ever since your grandfather died, I felt a paternal responsibility for him. I looked on him as my son. Yes, we had our disagreements, but I never once stopped loving him. So when I was informed of the boat accident, the first thing I did was travel back in the hope of preventing it. But I failed …’
Becky’s bottom lip started to quiver.
‘So I kept travelling back to different points in that day to see if that made any difference. It didn’t. I even sent Bernard Preston to try. He failed too. No matter what I did, I could not change the outcome.’ He sounded defeated. ‘Some would argue it was fate, that he was meant to take that boat trip. All I know is, again and again, I travelled back to stop him but the Omega Effect prevented it.’
‘The what?’
‘The Omega Effect. It’s what travellers call a very common phenomenon in time exploration; essentially, where events can’t be changed, even with a traveller’s interference. To put it simply, fate insists some things happen and others do not. It’s a very strange feeling when it occurs, like you’re there but not there. It’s quite bizarre and really does suggest that fate really does have a most inflexible design.’
‘B-but -’ Becky spluttered, ‘you saved Will, and Maria, and Jacob. You saved their lives. Why couldn’t you just -’
‘- But I didn’t have to travel back in time specifically to help them,’ Uncle Percy said softly. ‘They hadn’t already died. I just happened to be there to assist.’ He heaved another sigh. ‘I know this must be soul-destroying for you. I’m afraid, for some reason, your father was destined to go on that journey and not return. And there is nothing that I, or any traveller, can do to prevent it. I am sorry. I’m truly sorry.’
A tear spilled down Becky’s cheek. Uncle Percy stood up and held her tightly.
‘What’re you blartin’ for, Becky?’ Joe had entered the room.
Uncle Percy released his niece. Becky mopped her eyes and gave a weak smile, all the time thinking that Joe had the sensitivity of a scab.
Joe surveyed the cluttered table. ‘So what year are we travelling to?’
‘We will be travelling to the year 1634 BC,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Saturday, July 12th 1634 BC, at 2.00pm to be exact - so I don’t want anyone skimping on the sun cream.’
‘Great,’ Joe said. When are we going?’
‘Tomorrow morning. So, it’s an early night for everyone. It’s not every day you travel back almost four thousand years in the quest for a legendary relic, is it?’
Joe grinned. He turned expectantly to his sister.
&nb
sp; Becky forced another smile. For a few perfect minutes she had been convinced she would see her dad again. And to have the one thing she desired most snatched away seemed too cruel for words.
*
The following morning, Uncle Percy changed into his outfit while Becky and Joe finished breakfast. He wore a black hooded cloak, brown tunic with leather belt, sturdy brown sandals and held a crooked wooden staff.
As Uncle Percy gave them a twirl, Becky noticed a series of peculiar bumps and bulges beneath his tunic (although when questioned about them, he seemed surprisingly evasive.) He then escorted Becky, Joe and Will to the morning room where he presented them with their costumes.
Becky’s outfit consisted of a white linen tunic that draped over her right shoulder and was pinned together with a bronze broach in the form of a dolphin. Although hardly flattering, she felt it an improvement on the silly meringue thing she wore to Victorian Oxford. Joe’s outfit was similar to Uncle Percy’s, although in grey, and even Will appeared more at ease with his costume than on their previous trip - a short brown, woollen tunic, bronze breast plate, a leather kilt and long black cape. He also carried a selection of weapons, including a bronze short sword and a circular shield.
A tense air surrounded them as they said their goodbyes to Jacob and Maria (who proceeded to burst in to an uncontrollable fit of drool and tears,) and made their way to the Time Room. Uncle Percy, carrying a backpack of provisions, led the way, followed by Joe, Becky, and finally Will, who had added a bow and quiver of arrows to his arsenal.
The Time Room seemed livelier and more boisterous than usual with the sounds of bleeps and buzzes and hums at full volume. Becky saw a freshly polished Bertha standing in the centre of the room. Then something occurred to her. ‘Uncle Percy, how’re we going to talk to anyone?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Obviously, people in Ancient Crete didn’t speak English. We won’t understand a word they’re saying and they won’t understand us.’
‘An excellent point, Becky,’ Uncle Percy agreed. ‘And one that for many years caused severe headaches for the travelling community.’ He opened a drawer and pulled out an oblong box that resembled a pencil case. ‘Take a look at these …’ He opened the box.
Becky leant over and saw a series of shiny metal nodules, each one no bigger than the head of a small drawing pin.
‘These are transvocalisors,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I invented the prototypes over twenty five years ago. Now, I’m proud to say, they’re an essential part of the traveller’s kit. Let me put them on for you.’
He placed one on Becky’s throat and one behind her left ear. He repeated the process for Joe.
‘What’s a transvocalingy?’ Joe asked.
Uncle Percy passed a pair to Will, and then put a pair on himself. ‘A transvocalisor, Joe, well, inside each device is a very powerful microchip that, with regards to the one on your ear, will translate any language, ancient or modern, into English for you; and the one on your throat will automatically convert anything you say into whatever language you need. In short, you will both understand, and be understood wherever and whenever you are.’
A flabbergasted Becky immediately decided to secretly borrow a set for her French oral exams the following year.
‘Right then, shall we make a move?’ Uncle Percy took a wedge of Gerathnium and inserted it in to the campervan. Becky and Joe clambered aboard.
‘Are you going to register the trip?’ Becky said, sounding slightly anxious.
Opening the driver’s door, Uncle Percy tossed the bag and staff into the back. ‘Not this time, Becky. I’m aware it’s not an ideal situation, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to break a few rules.’ Will joined him up front.
‘But what if something happens to us?’ Becky asked.
Joe shot Becky a disparaging look. ‘Like what? You losing a scrunchie?’
‘I don’t know, an emergency,’ Becky snapped. ‘What if the van packs up? What if we need to get back in a hurry? What if something bites your fat ugly head off?’
‘Charlie at HQ knows where and when we’re going - off the record, of course,’ Uncle Percy said, entering the coordinates. ‘I’ve also left the details with Jacob. He knows what to do if there’s a problem. Does that reassure you, Becky?’
Becky nodded but still felt anxious. After all, they weren’t the only ones searching for the Golden Fleece. Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a great power surge from beneath.
‘Okay, everyone - next stop: Crete, 1643 BC,’ Uncle Percy shouted, his voice swelling to counteract the mounting volume.
‘And the Minotaurs,’ Joe shouted back, grinning widely.
‘You may be disappointed there, Joe,’ Uncle Percy answered. ‘There’ll be no dragons - no bogeymen - no fabulous monsters of any kind. But, with any luck, we may find some answers...’
Chapter 8
Harpy Attack
In blistering heat, Bertha materialised on a dusty path in the middle of a narrow ravine. Towering rocks, a thousand foot high, stood on either side of them.
‘Andrana’s Valley,’ Uncle Percy said, marvelling at the natural spectacle. ‘It’s an outstanding example of -’ He glanced in the wing mirror and cut short his sentence. ‘Blimey!’
Becky whipped her head round. A gangly boy was sprinting towards them, his face etched with terror. Two huge winged creatures were chasing him, taking it in turns to swoop down, claws extended. She screamed.
Instinctively, Will grabbed his bow and quiver and seized the door handle. Uncle Percy pulled him back. ‘No, Will!’ The boy veered past the campervan, too afraid and disorientated to notice the strange vehicle.
‘W-WHAT ARE THEY?’ Joe hollered.
‘Well - err -’ Uncle Percy spluttered. ‘My - err - knowledge of Greek Mythology is somewhat limited, but I believe they might be -’ He slammed his foot down and Bertha rocketed off.
‘- THEY’RE THE HARPIES …’ Becky yelled, recalling the story of the Golden Fleece.
Uncle Percy struggled to control the wheel. ‘It seems so.’
Becky glared at Uncle Percy. ‘NO MONSTERS, EH?’
Before he could reply - CRASH - the larger of the two Harpies smashed into them, momentarily knocking Bertha off her wheels. Becky’s eyes locked on the window. The Harpy had scaly wings, a leathery torso, and the face of a disfigured old woman. Two muscular arms tipped with curved claws hung down as it thrashed through the air. Becky screamed again as it grinned at her. At once, she clasped her lucky pendant, when - CRASH - the second, smaller, Harpy struck the van from the other side, throwing her to the floor. She landed hard; her skull cracked against metal, blood filled her mouth. Uncle Percy wrestled Bertha to the left. The Harpies took to the air, disappearing from sight.
Uncle Percy scanned the skies and drove towards the petrified boy. ‘Becky, open the door!’
‘ARE YOU NUTS?’ Becky yelled back, scrambling to her seat.
‘OPEN THE DOOR,’ Uncle Percy insisted. ‘GRAB THE BOY!’
Reluctantly, Becky forced her shaking hand to the door handle when she heard an almighty howl. The largest Harpy flew parallel to them, its claws embedded into the van’s side panels. The metal tore like paper.
‘UNCLE PERCY! WILL!’ Joe shouted. ‘DO SOMETHING …’
Before anyone could react, the Harpy vanished again. Seconds passed. Becky looked at Joe, confused. Was it over?
Uncle Percy weaved over to the boy. ‘Get in. You’ll be safe!’
The boy jogged alongside the van. Drenched, his eyes flitted to the empty sky and moved to the open door. SHRIEK! Talons grabbed the collar of his tunic, hoisting him into the air. He screamed. The larger Harpy had seized him.
‘Drive under the boy,’ Will urged.
Uncle Percy whipped Bertha to the right. Will scooped up his bow.
‘What’re you -?’ But before Uncle Percy could finish, Will had thrown open the door. In one acrobatic movement, he hurled himself onto the roof. Steadying himself,
he loaded two arrows onto his bowstring, and aimed at the Harpy above. He fired. The two arrows, separated in mid air, and pierced both of the Harpy’s thick arms. It screeched and dropped its haul. The boy crashed hard onto the roof.
Will knelt down. ‘Are your injuries severe?’
‘N-no, sire,’ the boy whimpered.
‘Then, forgive me.’ Will suddenly grabbed the boy’s shoulders and threw him through the open door, safely onto the seat. Then he slammed the door shut.
‘WHAT’S HE DOING?’ Becky cried.
Will turned to the circling Harpies. With a screech, the injured Harpy attacked, swooping down at him, its teeth bared. Will fixed another arrow to the bowstring. He fired again. This time, the arrow pierced the Harpy’s breastbone. It howled in agony and swerved away.
The second Harpy hung in mid air for a second. Then pounced. Will reached for another arrow, but there wasn’t time. Talons stabbed his shoulders and blood showered his face. Heaved into the air, he dropped the bow. The wounded Harpy joined his companion. Together, they let out a jubilant wail and flew off into the canyon, carrying their prize.
‘THEY’VE GOT WILL!’ Becky shouted hysterically. ‘UNCLE PERCY, DO SOMETHING!’
‘Oh, I will,’ Uncle Percy said coolly. He powered Bertha in the direction of the Harpies. ‘My staff, please.’ Joe seized the walking staff and threw it over.
‘Here, take the wheel,’ Uncle Percy said to the boy, who didn’t argue though it was clear he had no idea what to do. Keeping his foot firmly on the accelerator, Uncle Percy leaned from the open window. Holding the cane with his left hand, his right hand inched towards the grip. He aimed at the Harpy holding Will. BOOM - a scarlet laser blast erupted from the cane.
Becky and Joe stared at each other, astounded. Uncle Percy had a weapon!
The blast slammed into the cliff, hunks of rock showered down. Uncle Percy fired again, this time missing Will by a matter of inches.
‘STOP IT. YOU’LL HIT HIM!’ Becky yelled.
Uncle Percy hauled the staff inside. ‘Fair point,’ he muttered.
*
The Harpies climbed further into the air. Through blurred eyes, Will saw Bertha in the distance. The higher the Harpy carried him, the less chance he’d survive. He had to do something … and fast. Slowly, agonizingly, he inched the sword from its scabbard. Then he turned it in his grip and thrust upwards, forcing the blade deep into the beast’s underbelly. Blood smothered his hands, drenching his face. The Harpy squealed and released him. Will fell.
