Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  ‘But he was a low-born clerk,’ FitzUrse said. ‘He stood against the Young King!’

  ‘And was murdered before his altar!’ Henry roared. ‘Within the sanctuary of his cathedral!’ He slammed his fist on the table then stood, heaved up the platter of venison, and hurled it to the floor. ‘You have made a holy martyr of him!’ He swept his arm across the tabletop, scattering trenchers, meat, goblets and full flagons of wine. Tracy squeaked in protest, then fell silent at his king’s glance.

  Henry leaned both fists on the table and bowed his head, then pulled himself up to his full height, and turned to glare at his knights.

  ‘I gave Mandeville and Humez a simple task. Arrest Becket and bring him to me. I would have dealt with him. Instead you interfered. I have lost my battle with the Church over the Constitution of Clarendon and will not now be able to hold the English clergy accountable. I was even under threat of excommunication and eternal damnation! Four more troublesome knights I have never had!’ He slammed his fist on the tabletop once more. ‘I would have you all executed did I not think that would ensure my excommunication!’

  ‘Excommunication? My Liege, that would be unconscionable,’ Morville ventured.

  ‘Apparently not. The four of you were excommunicated on Holy Thursday.’

  Silence.

  ‘But that was three months ago. We have been damned for three months?’ Tracy whined.

  Henry laughed. ‘Three months is nothing, William. Your soul is damned for all time!’

  Tracy refilled his goblet and downed the wine in one. Morville, FitzUrse and Brett followed suit.

  ‘What did you expect?’ Henry shouted. ‘You had all pledged fealty to Becket, then you murdered him. In his cathedral! Did you not expect the Pope to react?’

  ‘Just as he pledged fealty to King Louis of France, then took his wife Eleanor and half of his lands,’ FitzUrse whispered to Morville.

  ‘What was that, Reginald?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Naught, My Liege,’ FitzUrse simpered. ‘I am gladdened our excommunication did not extend to you.’

  ‘Well it might have.’ Henry frowned. ‘Well it might have.’

  The men paused, each taking another drink and contemplating: What to say next?

  The King broke the silence. ‘I suggest you each commit yourselves to earn back Rome’s favour.’

  ‘How do we do that?’ Tracy asked. Henry frowned. ‘My Liege,’ he added.

  ‘I would not know, although I suggest building and improving churches would make a noble beginning. Rome responds to the chink of coin,’ Henry said, sitting down. ‘The louder the better.’

  Tracy nodded and emptied his goblet once more. He appeared close to tears.

  ‘There is also talk of the four of you serving the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon in the Holy Land for a period exceeding ten years.’

  ‘The Knights Templar, My Liege?’ FitzUrse and Morville protested together.

  ‘Fear not. It is unlikely to come to that. But the whole of Christendom wishes to see you punished. They need to believe you are contrite. Although if you do not build enough churches—’ Percy and Courcy grunted and suppressed laughter ‘—you may have to serve if you wish to save your souls,’ Henry warned.

  ‘You need to tell Pope Alexander what he wants to hear and keep the Saxons quiet,’ Hamlin Plantagenet added. ‘Do not embarrass our king any further.’

  The knights nodded, chastened.

  ‘You must present yourself to Pope Alexander at your earliest convenience. Do what you can to repair your reputation – and mine – before then,’ Henry ordered.

  ‘Yes, Sire,’ the knights said.

  ‘We shall take our leave,’ Henry said, rising once more, and the knights escorted him and his party to the bailey and their horses.

  ‘There will be a joust of peace at Riche Mont Castle in a sennight,’ Henry said, mounting. ‘Do not attend. Do your penance before you show your faces again.’ He dug his spurs into his mount’s flanks.

  Morville held his breath, but his men were paying attention and the gates to Cnaresburg Castle opened as King Henry reached them.

  Chapter 31

  25th July 2015

  Helen took a deep breath and opened the door to Spellbound.

  ‘Oh hello,’ Donna said from behind the counter. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Hi, I’m fine, thanks,’ Helen said, then hesitated. ‘Well, not really, to be honest.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You remember that spirit board I bought from you?’

  ‘You’d better come through,’ Donna said, and pulled back the curtain from the alcove behind the counter where she did her tarot readings. ‘Take a seat,’ she said, and took the far chair for herself. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘You know feva is coming up?’

  Donna nodded.

  ‘I’m with the Castle Players and we’re putting on a play about Morville and the other knights who murdered Thomas Becket then hid out at the castle here.’

  ‘I see,’ Donna said, drawing the words out.

  ‘The guys were having trouble connecting with their characters and I thought the spirit board would be a fun and different way to embrace them.’

  ‘I told you when you came in, the Ouija is not “fun” – it’s serious and you need to treat it with respect.’

  ‘I know, I know, and I did – I followed all your instructions.’

  ‘And the others, did they take it as seriously?’

  Helen said nothing.

  ‘Let me get this straight – are you telling me you used the spirit board to contact a medieval king, four of his knights and the priest they murdered, as – what – a theatre game?’

  ‘Exercise rather than game,’ Helen said. ‘And it worked, the improvement is amazing! I thought at first that they’d let go, relaxed and embraced the characters, but now . . . now I think it’s something more.’

  ‘Why?’

  Helen took a deep breath. ‘Everyone’s . . . changed.’

  ‘Changed – how?’

  ‘Well, Dan and Sarah have split after ten years and two kids – and it’s nasty. He’s become aggressive and belligerent, which he never was before, and Sarah . . . Well, Sarah’s lost her mind. She’s taken up with one of the other guys – someone she’s always been friendly with. I reckon he’s fancied her for years, but she never felt the same.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t count the number of times we’ve talked about him and she’s always thought he was sweet, but boring. He never did anything for her, and now she’s besotted.’

  ‘Is there any correlation between that and their characters?’ Donna asked.

  Helen thought for a minute. ‘I guess so. It’s hard to know for sure, the historical record’s sketchy at best, but Sarah plays Richard le Brett, who served William de Tracy, who Mike plays. They were the meekest of the four knights, so it stands to reason they were close.’

  ‘And the husband?’

  ‘Dan plays Reginald FitzUrse – a brash, vulgar bully. Which is what he’s turned into.’

  Donna nodded but remained silent awhile before asking, ‘And what of the others?’

  ‘Well, Paul and Charlie – they play King Henry and Becket – they’re acting oddly too. They were always good friends with plenty of banter, but lately it’s more – they’re so competitive it’s unreal, and Paul’s getting to be a right pain, throwing his weight around and taking everything over.’

  ‘Just like a medieval king,’ Donna said.

  ‘Exactly. Alec and Ed – to be honest, I’m not sure, with the drama of the others, I’ve not really noticed.’

  ‘So what in particular prompted you to come and see me?’ Donna asked.

  ‘Last night there was an argument over money – Charlie’s the treasurer – and Paul practically accused him of stealing. It echoed an argument between Henry and Becket and it was just one coincidence too many. I think they’re possessed.’

&
nbsp; ‘Possessed is a strong word and unlikely, but it is possible that spirits have attached themselves to your friends.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘They’re here, feeding off the energy of their “hosts” and influencing their behaviour.’

  ‘But how can that be? Henry was a Norman king, he didn’t speak English, and the English language that Becket knew bears little resemblance to the one we speak today. How can they be influencing the speech and actions of men they can’t communicate with?’

  ‘But Charlie and Paul speak English. Language is a function of our brains not our spirits. The guys are just tools for the spirits to use. One more question, did you close the spirit board?’

  Helen looked down at her hands.

  ‘You didn’t, did you?’

  ‘We couldn’t. Something happened—’ she paused and Donna waited for her to continue. ‘It was weird, it was like an explosion of – nothing. But we were sent flying. I fell off the stage and broke my wrist,’ Helen pushed back her sleeve to show her tatty pot, ‘everybody else landed on their arses, and the spirit board just vanished.’

  Donna drew in a sharp breath. ‘And you haven’t found it?’

  ‘No. To be honest, we didn’t look very hard – we were all freaked out. I was hurt, and I don’t think any of us actually wanted to see it again.’

  ‘You have to find it. That’s what is connecting the spirits to your friends.’

  ‘So if we find it, then what, destroy it?’

  ‘Yes, burn it and cleanse the place where you held the séance – was it at the theatre?’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘We’ll also cleanse each individual and hopefully it’s not too late.’

  ‘What do you mean, too late?’

  ‘It sounds like the connection is strong. It’s unusual for spirits to exert so much control unless the person is in trance. Judging by their history, the spirits have unfinished, extremely emotional, business to put right. When was the murder?’

  ‘1170.’

  Donna released a breath and seemed to shrink into herself. ‘So that’s what, eight hundred years?’

  ‘Nearly eight hundred and fifty.’

  ‘That’s a long time for unresolved issues to brew, even in the spirit world.’

  Helen didn’t know how to reply to that, so said nothing. Then, ‘How much will it cost?’

  Donna glared at her, then her expression softened. ‘Don’t worry about that at the moment – the main thing is to stop the spirits replaying their past or exacting vengeance, and make sure everybody is safe.’

  ‘Safe? You think we’re in danger?’ Helen asked, horrified.

  ‘They’ve already hurt you and broken relationships,’ Donna said. ‘God knows what else they’re capable of – it sounds like they’re gathering strength every day.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Hi Donna, thank you so much for doing this,’ Helen said as she let the Wiccan into the theatre.

  ‘No problem. How long have we got before the others get here?’

  ‘About an hour.’

  ‘That should be fine, but let’s get started. Where did you hold the séance?’

  ‘On the stage.’

  ‘Of course you did.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, there’s no need to be defensive.’ Donna laid a hand on Helen’s arm. ‘It’s just that the spirits were given centre stage – it will have given them extra energy. You know how you feel during a show – that high?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All that energy over countless shows – by everyone who’s ever performed there – leaves an energetic signature behind. Over the years that would have built up, and when the spirits were invited to join you, it would have given them a sizeable boost. That’s probably why they were able to get rid of the spirit board and attach themselves so firmly. Did you look for the board?’

  ‘Yes. Yes I did, but I couldn’t find it.’

  ‘Maybe one of your friends took it and put it “somewhere safe”.’

  ‘But why would they do that?’

  ‘They didn’t – the spirit they’re hosting did.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Not being able to deal with the board makes this much harder. Keep an eye out – especially when visiting your friends. See if you can find it.’

  ‘Okay. Will this work without it?’

  ‘That depends on how strong they are and how badly they want to see this through.’ Donna frowned, then brightened and smiled to reassure Helen. ‘Only way to find out is to try. Let’s get started. The stage first.’

  Helen took a deep breath, then followed Donna through the auditorium and up to the stage where she deposited the large bag she was carrying.

  ‘What’s all that for?’ Helen asked as Donna pulled out bundles of herbs, a lighter, dish, coloured candles, a box, and a cup ornate enough to be labelled a chalice.

  ‘I’ll cast a circle first,’ Donna said, picking up the ornate box. She opened the lid and showed Helen the contents. ‘Salt,’ she said. ‘It will start to purify the place.’ She walked around the stage area in as large a circle as she could fit, sprinkling the salt as she went.

  ‘That covers the main area of the stage,’ she said. ‘Whatever you do, don’t step out of the circle. I’ll cleanse this area first, then go around each part of the theatre, then outside.’

  ‘Okay,’ Helen said, feeling like an extra from Supernatural.

  Donna bent, picked up a compass, and checked that she was in the exact centre. ‘Will you put the green candle there, it represents earth,’ she said, pointing. ‘Left a bit, perfect,’ she added as Helen did as she was told. ‘Now the yellow candle in the east for air. Then a red candle for fire to the south and blue for water in the west. Then come to the middle and stay still.’

  Donna picked up one of the bundles of herbs and the lighter. ‘Sage,’ she said by way of explanation. She walked to the green candle and lit it, muttering under her breath, then round to light the others, ending up back at the green candle. She held the bundle of sage to the flame until it caught, then blew on it until it smoked copiously with no flame.

  ‘With earth I cleanse this place of fear, pain and anger. Henry Plantagenet, Thomas Becket, Hugh de Morville, Reginald FitzUrse, William de Tracy, Richard le Brett, thank you for your time here, please leave now. We send you home and invite light, love and peace to dwell in this place,’ she intoned, walking around the circle anticlockwise, then she came back to the centre, placed the herbs in the dish, and picked up another bundle.

  ‘Cedar,’ Helen said, recognising the smell when Donna lit it.

  Donna said nothing but repeated her chant as she walked around the circle waving the smudge stick.

  ‘Sweetgrass,’ Donna said as she lit the next bundle, this time walking clockwise.

  Helen looked nervously at the amount of smoke and made a mental note to check the smoke alarms. Surely at least one of them should have gone off by now.

  Donna blew out the candles, and Helen strained to hear what she was muttering – it appeared to be a number of thank yous.

  ‘Now for the rest of the theatre,’ Donna said with a smile, picked up the still-smoking bundle of sage and wafted the smoke into every corner and along every boundary of the stage, auditorium and the areas backstage.

  ‘Are we done?’ Helen asked, checking her watch – the others would be here soon expecting a rehearsal not a Wiccan ritual.

  ‘Not quite, I’ll go outside and do the same all around the building – everything I can get to, anyway,’ she said, referencing its semi-detached nature. ‘Then I’ll need to do each member of the cast.’

  ‘What? They’ll never agree to that, not the way they are now,’ Helen said.

  ‘Then find a way to persuade them – and do it on the stage – that has received the most intense cleanse and the spirits’ hold on them should be weakened.’ Donna recognised the distress in Helen’s face and hugged her, ca
reful to keep the burning herbs well away from their bodies. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you fix this.’

  Helen nodded and sniffed, surprised to find herself emotional. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Have a drink of water and just sit quietly and gather your thoughts,’ Donna said. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  *

  Helen jerked in surprise. The smoke alarms were finally doing their job and an ear-splitting howl transformed what had been a tranquil moment into a nightmare – at least until she realised what the noise was.

  ‘What the bloody hell’s going on here?’ Paul demanded. ‘Dan, shut that thing off will you?’

  Dan waved his script under the sensor to clear the smoke, and the alarm silenced. Until another emitted a high shriek. One by one they were silenced. One by one they screamed.

  Finally, a quiet that lasted. Until Paul broke it.

  ‘Well, Helen? Are you going to tell us what in the name of God you’ve been doing?’

  ‘Actually, that was me,’ Donna said from behind him.

  He spun around and stared at her – eyes insolently examining her from her short blonde hair, down her long pink dress, to her pointed black patent boots, then back up. ‘And who the hell are you?’

  ‘Hi, I’m Donna,’ she said brightly, holding out her hand for a shake. ‘From the Wiccan shop.’

  Paul kept his hands by his sides, then slowly turned back to Helen and arched an eyebrow in question.

  ‘Come and sit down, everyone. We need to talk,’ Helen said, indicating the circle of chairs she’d arranged at the centre of the stage.

  ‘Come on, mate,’ Charlie said, tugging at Paul’s arm. ‘Let’s see what she’s got on her mind.’

  ‘I don’t have time for this,’ Paul said.

  ‘Of course you do. Stop moaning and sit – whoa.’ Charlie dropped Paul’s arm and stepped back as Paul’s hand bundled into a fist.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Paul said after a moment and relaxing his hand. ‘Don’t know what’s got into me lately.’

  ‘That’s kind of what I need to talk to you about,’ Helen said and led the way to the circle of chairs.