Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  Chapter 33

  ‘This is Donna,’ Helen said loudly enough that everyone could hear her, ‘from Spellbound.’

  ‘A witch?’ Charlie said, his voice full of disgust.

  ‘Wiccan,’ Donna corrected. ‘Very different to what the Church portrays as a witch.’

  Charlie muttered something under his breath that sounded remarkably like, ‘Heathen’. Donna glanced at Helen but did nothing else to acknowledge the comment.

  ‘A few weeks ago, you experimented with the spirit world,’ Donna said.

  ‘Load of nonsense,’ Dan scoffed.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Helen said. ‘Since then, you’ve all been . . . different.’

  ‘Different how?’ Ed asked.

  ‘Well, for one thing you’ve become your characters on stage—’

  ‘That’s what we’re supposed to do,’ Paul said. ‘We’re actors!’

  ‘—and offstage,’ Helen continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Sarah asked, and Helen narrowed her eyes. Surely Sarah out of everyone realises what’s going on?

  ‘Well, as you said yourself, Sarah, the friendship between Paul and Charlie has changed – you’re far more competitive with each other than before.’

  Paul and Charlie looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘And you yourself, Sarah – it’s no secret that Mike has fancied you for months . . .’

  ‘Hey,’ Mike said, but Helen ignored him as well as Dan’s cursing.

  ‘But you’ve never entertained him as anything but a friend before – now you’ve moved out and are seeing him. It’s just not you!’

  ‘I bloody knew it, you cheating bitch!’

  ‘Is there any point to this?’ Paul interrupted, holding a hand up at Dan to quieten him.

  ‘Yes Paul, there is a point, you’re not in control.’

  ‘So you’re saying this . . . this mess is down to, what, ghosts?’ Dan asked.

  Helen’s heart sank at the tone of hope in his voice. Whatever the reason, what had been done had been done and there was no going back from it. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  ‘So all this, the breakup of my marriage, my kids’ heartache, mine, it’s all because you brought that, that, thing here and made us use it?’

  Helen had no answer.

  ‘No,’ Donna said. ‘Many people use spirit boards every day with no problem. Unfortunately, the spirits you contacted are angry, powerful and have no doubt waited centuries for a chance to come back and put right what was done in their lifetimes.’

  ‘So just bad luck, huh?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘What can we do about it?’ Charlie asked, his voice hesitant as if he had to force the words out.

  ‘We’ve cleansed the theatre, and now, with your permission, I’ll cleanse you. But to be honest, it may not be enough. We need to find the spirit board too – do any of you know what happened to it?’

  ‘It just . . . disappeared,’ Ed said and Donna stared at him.

  ‘Do you know where it disappeared to?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. I’d have said.’

  ‘Okay, shall we start with you for the cleansing?’

  ‘What? I-I don’t know about that, what does it involve?’

  ‘It’s nothing to be worried about – I’ll just cleanse your aura with sage and ask any spirits to leave.’

  ‘Sounds like pagan devilry to me,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Pagan yes. Devilry no. Everything I do comes from a place of light and love,’ Donna said.

  Charlie’s thoughts were clear enough on his face that he didn’t need to voice them. Donna glanced at him nervously then turned her attention back to Ed.

  ‘Okay, I want you to uncross your legs and arms, close your eyes and relax. Just concentrate on your breathing and let any thoughts drift away.’

  Ed looked relaxed enough and Donna took a smudge stick from her bag, then lit it. She wafted it around Ed, surrounding him in smoke, then placed the sage in a dish and stood behind him, hands on his shoulders and face upturned. ‘I call on my angel guardians and spirit guides to join with Ed and cleanse him of the spirit of . . .’ Donna opened her eyes and looked at Helen in question.

  ‘Hugh de Morville.’

  Donna repeated the name, then repeated the mantra twice more as she waved her hands rapidly upwards from Ed’s feet to the crown of his head, finally clapping her hands together above his head.

  She placed her palms back on Ed’s shoulders and asked him how he felt.

  ‘Okay, I guess,’ he said slowly, blinking as he refocused on the group. ‘Yeah, okay.’ He smiled up at Donna, who moved to Sarah, carried out the same ritual then went on to Mike.

  ‘You’re not touching me, witch,’ Dan said as Donna finished Mike, stood in front of him and picked up the sage.

  ‘I won’t harm you,’ Donna reassured.

  ‘I don’t care, you’re not casting your spells over me!’ He hit out, catching Donna’s hands and she dropped the smoking bundle of herbs.

  ‘Dan!’ Sarah shouted. ‘Stop it, she’s only trying to help.’

  ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do any more, whore,’ Dan sneered. ‘What you think and want is nothing to me, do you understand?’ He jumped to his feet and Sarah recoiled in her chair.

  ‘Fucking heathen bullshit,’ Dan said and kicked the bundle of herbs off the stage.

  ‘Dan!’ Helen cried and ran offstage to retrieve the bundle. ‘You’ll set the place on fire.’

  ‘Oh stop bleating, woman! It’s always melodrama with you. I’m going to the pub, anyone want to join me or would you rather chant spells and set fire to yourselves?’

  ‘Reginald’s right,’ Paul said. ‘Hold on, I’m coming too.’

  ‘And me,’ Charlie said and they both followed Dan out of the theatre.

  ‘Did Paul just call Dan Reginald?’ Sarah asked.

  Helen nodded, her face ashen.

  ‘Things have gone too far,’ Donna said. ‘This is more than I can deal with.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Helen asked.

  ‘I’ll make some calls,’ Donna said. ‘But to be honest, I think the only people who can stop this are Dan, Paul and Charlie.’

  The others stared at her, then at the exit door.

  ‘Fat chance of that happening any time soon,’ Mike said, then pulled his chair closer to Sarah’s and put his arm around her. ‘You okay, love?’

  ‘You have to find that spirit board, Helen,’ Donna said. ‘It’s probably your only chance.’

  Chapter 34

  ‘Dan! Dan, wait up! Where are you going?’ Paul shouted.

  Dan turned. ‘Harrogate. Had enough of Knaresborough for one night. I can’t stand seeing those two huddled together. I want some real pubs – and some real women – preferably ones I don’t know.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Charlie cried. ‘Wait up, we’re coming with you. Next bus in what, five or ten minutes?’

  ‘There it is,’ Paul shouted. ‘Come on!’

  They ran in front of the bus, preventing it from leaving the stop outside Sainsbury’s, and giving the driver no choice but to wait and let them board – though he clearly wished to avoid it.

  ‘Onward, Coachman, á Harrogate,’ Paul cried and the three of them creased up in laughter. The young woman sitting near them got up and made her way to the front of the bus where she felt safer, which only amused the three actors further.

  *

  Half an hour later, a relieved bus driver pulled into Harrogate bus station and opened the doors. He’d expected more trouble than raised voices and raucous laughter, but was glad to wash his hands of the three unruly men nonetheless.

  ‘Where to?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I fancy somewhere grand but cheap,’ Paul said.

  ‘Wetherspoons then,’ Dan said. Situated in the historic Royal Baths, once a place visitors flocked to in their thousands to sample the Harrogate spa waters, the pub had kept the
soaring decorated ceilings yet boasted the same prices as any other Wetherspoons in the country.

  ‘Lead on, my good man,’ Paul said, sweeping his arm expansively.

  *

  ‘So what the hell was all that crap about?’ Dan said once they all had full glasses in front of them.

  ‘Devil worship,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Women’s troubles,’ Paul said and raised his glass. The other two spluttered, clinked, then drank.

  ‘Another round, boys?’ Paul said, eyebrows raised. They had all drained their glasses.

  ‘Keep ’em coming, Sire,’ Charlie said, and they burst into laughter once again.

  *

  ‘So what’s going on with you and Sarah, Dan?’ Paul asked.

  Dan scowled and thumped his glass on the table, sloshing red wine on to the polished wood.

  ‘What’s there to say? She’s shacking up with that bastard, Mike.’

  ‘What? She’s moved in with him?’

  ‘Well, she reckons she’s staying with Helen until I move out, but she’ll be with him.’

  ‘And she’s making you move out?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Yeah. Then no doubt she’ll move lover boy in.’

  ‘And you’ve agreed to this?’ Paul asked, incredulous.

  ‘No choice.’

  ‘Why?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘If I don’t she’ll go to the police, tell them I hit her or something.’

  ‘And did you?’ Charlie asked.

  Dan looked uncomfortable then, ‘Fuck, yeah I did.’ He drained his glass. ‘We were arguing about Mike, then she ignored me to answer his call.’

  ‘Sounds like she deserved it,’ Paul said.

  ‘Damn right she did, embarrassing me like that, and with a mate. I should do it again!’

  ‘She’s making a fool of you, Dan.’

  Charlie noticed the looks of disdain from the women on the next table and felt uncomfortable for a moment, although he wasn’t quite sure why. He ignored the feeling. ‘All right, darling?’ he said and the women pointedly turned their backs. He laughed and went to the bar.

  *

  ‘Bloody hell, he’s pulled,’ Charlie told Paul, half a dozen glasses of wine later. Paul turned in his seat to see Dan at the bar talking to a group of women, two bottles of red wine on the bar beside him.

  ‘It doesn’t look like he’s bringing them over,’ Paul said.

  ‘What? The wine or the girls?’

  ‘Neither!’ Paul stood up too quickly and knocked his chair over. He left it where it was and lurched to the bar, Charlie in his wake, bowing and making apologies for his friend, though not caring if he received glares or smiles in response.

  Paul approached behind two of the women and cupped their hips as he pushed his head between them to greet Dan. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ he said, oblivious of the women recoiling from him – one of them straight into Charlie’s arms.

  ‘Forgive my manners,’ Dan said. ‘These are my good friends Henry and Thomas.’ He raised his glass to Paul with a wink and a smirk. ‘And I’m Reginald.’

  ‘You mean you’ve been hogging these lovely ladies and haven’t even introduced yourself, uh, Reg?’ Paul asked, laughing. ‘Hey, where do you think you’re going?’ he added as the woman lucky enough to avoid Charlie’s clutches almost succeeded in freeing herself from Paul – who just gripped tighter. Hard enough for her to cry out and push him away.

  ‘All right, that’s enough, leave the ladies alone.’ A short but burly man dressed in a black suit grabbed hold of Paul’s shoulder.

  ‘And who might you be?’ Paul said, his voice full of disdain.

  ‘I’m the bloke who’s kicking you out. You can go quietly, but if not my friends and I will help you on your way.’ He jerked his head towards the door but did not take his eyes off the drunken men.

  Paul pushed closer to him. ‘You do not lay a hand on me or my friends, do you have any idea who I am?’

  ‘I don’t give a shit who you are, you’re not welcome here.’

  ‘You insolent . . .’

  The doorman caught Paul’s swinging fist easily and used his momentum to spin Paul around, twist his arm behind his back, and propel him towards the doors.

  ‘Hey, you can’t do that,’ Charlie shouted, moving to come to his friend’s aid. ‘He’s King Henry!’

  ‘Yeah, he’s King Henry and I’m William the Conqueror,’ the doorman muttered, all patience evaporated – if he’d had any in the first place.

  ‘He is.’ Dan descended into giggles as two more security staff grabbed him and Charlie and marched them all out of the pub, the crowd of patrons parting before them.

  ‘You’re not welcome back,’ the first doorman said. ‘So don’t even try it.’

  ‘Why, you cretin,’ Paul said, lunging for the man and catching him on the jaw with his fist. The doorman quickly wrestled the ‘king’ to the ground, kneeling on him to keep him subdued while his two colleagues dealt with Charlie and Dan’s drunken and ineffectual attempts to free their friend. Soon all three were on the ground amidst a growing circle of concerned onlookers.

  Within minutes a police van arrived and the doormen let the three friends up. They immediately spun again, but the men were expecting a clumsy attack and stepped back to avoid it. Each actor was grabbed from behind by police officers, then thrown against the side of the van, where more officers fastened handcuffs on their wrists.

  ‘I am arresting you for being drunk and disorderly,’ one of the officers – a sergeant – said. ‘And if you don’t calm down, I’ll add assault to that. What are your names?’

  He received only verbal abuse in return and indicated that the officers should put them into the back of the van.

  When the cage door was shut and locked behind them, the sergeant tried again. ‘What are your names? It’ll be worse for you if you don’t answer.’

  ‘Reginald FitzUrse,’ Dan said and cackled with laughter. ‘And this is Thomas Becket and Henry Plantagenet.’

  ‘I see,’ the sergeant said with a sigh. ‘At least that’s more original than Mickey Mouse.’ He shut the van door and thumped on it to indicate that the driver could go, then turned to ensure the pub security staff were okay and ask what the hell was going on.

  Chapter 35

  July 1171

  The knights and their men-at-arms gathered in the outer bailey; the marshal and grooms in a flurry of activity to ensure the horses were tacked and ready to ride. One of Tracy’s men lost his battle with the frayed nerves of his mount and it bolted; scattering men, weapons and horses until it was brought up short by the curtain wall.

  Morville and FitzUrse glanced at each other in despair at the chaos.

  ‘Just as well no one attacked or laid siege,’ said FitzUrse. ‘All that training and it’s a shambles.’

  Morville shrugged. ‘No one knows what to expect, and you all have a long journey ahead – especially Tracy. Plus the men don’t know what to think – I’d be surprised if you didn’t lose a few on the road.’

  ‘When I find out who told them of the Pope’s sanction, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands,’ FitzUrse said.

  ‘You would never keep that news quiet,’ Morville said. ‘The whole kingdom is aware.’

  ‘Yes, well, this shall not be a comfortable ride.’

  ‘Think of poor Tracy. When you and Brett arrive in Somerset he still has almost a sennight’s ride to his estates in Cornwall.’

  ‘It seems an awful lot of trouble to go to – all to build a few damnable churches.’

  ‘The King wishes it. We need his favour and that of the nobles. I just hope it shall be enough to pacify Pope Alexander.’

  ‘You know Tracy is talking about building three,’ FitzUrse said.

  Morville shook his head. ‘Damned fool, can’t do anything in moderation.’

  FitzUrse shrugged. ‘He’s keen, too keen at times, but you know he’ll always do his best for you.’

  Morville stayed silent as Trac
y and Brett approached.

  ‘Are you ready, Reginald?’ Tracy asked. FitzUrse gave a curt nod. ‘Then we bid you farewell, Hugh.’

  ‘Godspeed and safe journey,’ Morville said. ‘I shall see you in a month or two.’

  ‘Yes, and all of us considerably poorer,’ FitzUrse said.

  ‘It is a small price to pay to regain the favour of all of Christendom,’ Tracy said. No one could gainsay Tracy’s piety, although FitzUrse scowled. Morville rested his hand on his fellow knight’s arm to forestall any rebuke.

  ‘Godspeed,’ he said again. ‘Build your steeples tall and your naves wide. Let these churches be a beacon to sinners and saints alike.’

  ‘Amen,’ Tracy said, crossing himself. The three knights turned to go, FitzUrse at the rear shaking his head. Morville suppressed a smile. Despite The Bear’s outward show of scorn, he had not overly protested at riding to Barham Court to raise a church dedicated to Thomas Becket as his declaration of repentance. He was as shaken by the news that Becket was to be canonised as he was by his own censure.

  *

  Once his guests and their retainers had cleared Cnaresburg, Morville set out on his own mission of penance.

  ‘What made you settle on Hampsthwaite?’ William de Stoteville asked.

  ‘It is a new parish and growing, yet has not a stone church,’ Morville replied, ‘and is close enough to also serve the new hamlet of Clint.’

  ‘Would not a church serve you better in Cnaresburg itself?’

  ‘Cnaresburg has the church of St Mary Magdalene and Nostell Priory. It needs not another place of worship and would likely be seen as a bribe by the populace.’

  ‘You may be right,’ Stoteville said, surprised that Morville had thought this through.

  ‘The population of Hampsthwaite has grown in recent years and a stone church would fulfil a true need. A much better penance do you not think?’

  ‘Yes, I do indeed.’

  ‘Although I have charged Robertson of Cnaresburg as master stone mason and given him full authority over his team of masons.’

  ‘And he is happy to carry out the work?’