George let out a low whistle.
‘Opa says it is made of solid gold.’
‘Yes.’ The old man lifted up the magnifying glass lying beside him and ran the lens across the crown’s surface. ‘And of the finest workmanship too.’
‘But that is not all. Show him the runes, Opa.’
George pulled a face. ‘Roons? What’s that in English?’
Kitty giggled. ‘It is English, silly.’
He flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Ernst Regenbogen looked up at Kitty sharply and frowned. ‘Now, Liebling. Do not speak to your friend like that.’
Kitty bit her lip and stared down at her shoes.
The old man gave George an apologetic smile. ‘I am sorry, George. Forgive my granddaughter. She is a little over-excited. Let me explain.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Runes are a type of ancient writing. They were used by the Anglo–Saxons, and the Vikings too. Whoever made this crown chose to inscribe it with letters from the runic alphabet.’ He angled the crown away from him and tracked the tip of his little finger over a line of faint marks zigzagging across the back of the crest. ‘Do you see?’ He held up the magnifying glass.
George peered through it and nodded. ‘So . . . so what do they say?’
‘We do not know yet. We thought you would like to help us find out.’
George threw him a puzzled look. ‘How?’
Ernst Regenbogen lifted up from his chair. ‘With this.’ He reached over and pulled a slim, dusty-looking book down from the shelf next to the desk. ‘My special rune translator.’ He gave George a quick wink. Clearing a space for the book on the desk, he opened it and flicked through it until he found the page he was looking for. ‘Here.’ He tapped his finger against the diagram of a large chart divided into two columns.
In the left-hand column was a list of stick-like shapes, including some George recognized from the markings on the crown. The right-hand one contained a matching list made up of ordinary letters of the alphabet and one or two strange-looking ones he’d never seen before.
‘But first we need to fortify ourselves.’ The old man turned and gestured to a tray sitting on a nearby table stacked with tea things, a plate of bread and butter and a small pot of honey.
After Ernst Regenbogen had made a fresh pot of tea and they had eaten and drunk their fill, they crowded round him at the desk again, watching as he hovered the magnifying glass over the runes and painstakingly copied them down on to a piece of paper.
‘There!’ He sat back. ‘It is difficult to be sure, but I think that is what is inscribed.’
George gazed at the line of spiky shapes and frowned. They were clearer written in ink, but they still didn’t make any sense.
‘So, George, are you ready?’ Ernst Regenbogen motioned to the book.
George swallowed and gave a quick nod. He raised his finger and ran it down the left-hand column of the rune translator until he came to what looked like the first rune. His eyes darted across to the opposite column. ‘“H”. Least I think so.’
Ernst Regenbogen peered at the page. ‘Yes, you are quite right. Well done!’ He scribbled it down on the piece of paper. ‘Now your turn, Kitty.’
She slid alongside George, took a quick breath and scanned a finger down the page.
And so they continued, taking it in turns to look up the matching letters, while the old man wrote them down.
When they’d finished, George stared down at the paper and frowned. The words they had spelt out made no sense:
he þe hæfþ me hæfþ þone cyningdom
He shook his head. ‘It looks like a load of old gobbledegook to me.’
Ernst Regenbogen chuckled. ‘Not gobbledegook. Anglo–Saxon.’
‘So what does it mean?’
‘I am a little rusty, but . . .’ The old man ran his eye over the words, muttering them to himself as he went. ‘Yes. I think I have it now. “He who has me . . .”’
‘Has the kingdom.’ Kitty’s voice chimed in excitedly as her granddad spoke the last three words. ‘Oh, Opa! It is Wayland’s charm.’
Ernst Regenbogen poked his glasses up on to his forehead and sat back speechless, shaking his head in wonder.
‘The Kingdom-Keeper!’ Kitty flung her arms round George’s neck and hugged him tight. ‘You have found it, George. You have found the dragon-headed crown!’
George felt his cheeks redden again. He pushed her off of him. ‘What’re you talking about?’
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘The legend. You must remember it? The one about the king and the dragon-slayer?’
George snorted. ‘But that’s just a fairy story.’
Ernst Regenbogen swivelled round in his chair. ‘Legends may be stories, George, but there are always grains of truth buried within them – if you know where to look. And one thing we do know’ – he slid his glasses down on to his nose again and peered back at the crown – ‘the Anglo–Saxons used runes on objects because they believed it gave them special powers. I think the person who made this crown – whoever they were – wanted to do the same.’
George was about to say that just because a bunch of dead Anglo–Saxons believed something had special powers, it didn’t make it true when he remembered the ring. He bit his lip as the ache started up in his chest again.
Kitty picked up the crown and held it out, eyes shining with wonder. ‘What are we going to do with it, Opa?’
‘We must hand it in to the authorities. It will need to be stored somewhere safe until the experts can take a proper look at it.’ The old man’s face clouded over. ‘Though with Hitler raining his bombs down on us, goodness knows when that will be. Now, Liebling’ – he lifted up out of the chair again – ‘we must go and prepare tea. It has been a long day and you need more than a honey sandwich or two to sustain you. We will leave you to stand guard, George.’ He patted him on the back and limped over to the door.
Kitty traced a fingertip along the dragon’s curling body. She gave a fluttering sigh then set it down on the desk and looked up at George. ‘The dragon-headed crown is a great treasure. Greater even than the treasures that Opa and the other archaeologists have already discovered. And you were the one who found it. When the war finishes, it will go on display at the British Museum with your name next to it. “George Penny, the boy who discovered King Redwald’s crown: the ancient and long-lost Kingdom-Keeper.”’
George blew out his cheeks. What did any of that matter when Charlie was still missing? Heart cramping, he took a deep breath and stared blurry-eyed at the floor.
Kitty hesitated for a moment, then giving his arm a quick squeeze, she turned and walked towards the door.
He waited until she’d gone before throwing a quick look back at the crown. A finger of light was sliding across its surface. As it hit the crest, the dragon’s garnet eyes pulsed with a strange red fire. The scar on his hand began to ache. He clutched it to him, nursing it against his chest until slowly the sensation faded. When he looked again the light had gone throwing the crown back into shadow.
He shivered. Then, pulling the sack over it, he turned and walked across to where Spud lay, still snoozing. But as he sank down next to him and fondled his ears, he couldn’t stop the feeling curling up inside him that the runes were a warning: a warning he mustn’t ignore.
The three of them were eating a supper of pea and carrot soup at the small table in the kitchen when a loud rat-tat-tat echoed up the stairs.
Spud sat up, ears cocked.
Kitty lowered her spoon. ‘Who could it be, Opa?’
‘I do not know.’ Ernst Regenbogen wiped his lips with his napkin and frowned. ‘We are not expecting anyone.’
The knocking came again.
A flicker of fear darted up inside George’s chest. It’d been the same thing when the coppers had come with the news about Mum and Dad. Him and Charlie, sitting down to a tea neither of them felt like eating. Then the sudden sharp rap of knuckles on wood and the twist in his stomach as
he saw the two policemen’s helmets through the glass in the front door.
The man at the airbase had said they’d phone. But if it was bad news, what if they decided to send someone instead?
He heaved a sigh. If it was, he might as well face it now. He pulled back his chair. Spud scrambled up, eager to join him.
Ernst Regenbogen put a hand on his arm. ‘It is all right, George. I will go.’
‘But—’
‘Please.’ The old man shot him a stern look. He rose to his feet and limped out on to the landing. A few moments later they heard his feet on the stairs.
George waited until he’d reached the bottom, then slipped out after him, Spud at his side. The front door rattled open and the sound of men’s voices drifted up from below. Ernst Regenbogen’s first, then another man’s, gruff and firm.
Kitty slid alongside him. ‘Who is it? Can you tell?’
He shook his head. ‘I ain’t sure.’ He peered over the banisters into the gloom.
Ernst Regenbogen’s voice echoed up the staircase, louder now. ‘But I am not a spy, Sergeant. I have lived here happily for several years. You can ask anyone—’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we have our orders.’
‘Opa! Nein!’ Kitty pushed past George and raced down the stairs two at a time. Spud gave an excited bark and made to follow.
George seized him by the collar and dragged him back into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, boy, but you’ll only make things worse.’ Pulling the door tight shut, he hurried down the stairs after Kitty. As he reached the bottom step, he jerked to a stop. Two policemen were standing in the shadows by the front door.
‘Leave my Opa alone!’ Kitty pushed past her granddad and planted herself in front of them, hands on hips, legs apart.
The shorter of the two men, who wore the stripes of a sergeant on his sleeve, took a step forward. ‘Now see here, missy.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There’s no use in making any trouble. Your granddad has to come with us. And that’s final.’
‘But it is true what he says. He is not a spy! He loves this country. He would never do anything to harm it.’
The taller copper loped past the sergeant. He stooped and shoved his thin, pale face up close to Kitty’s. ‘We can’t be too careful. There might not have been an invasion last night, but it’s coming all right. And we don’t need people like him’ – he jabbed a finger at Ernst Regenbogen – ‘giving it a helping hand.’
A spurt of anger shot through George. ‘Leave him alone!’ He curled his fingers into fists and dashed down the hallway, skidding to a stop next to Kitty.
‘Shh, sonny.’ The sergeant threw George a warning glance, then took a step towards his companion. ‘Come on now, Sidney. No need to take it out on the girl. She’s just a child – of no interest to us.’ He gripped him by the shoulder.
The tall thin copper gave a loud snort and straightened up.
The sergeant dropped his hand to his side and looked back at the old man. ‘It’s for your own good, sir. After what happened in London last night, there’s a lot of scared angry people out there. You being German, you can hardly blame ’em if—’
‘But you can’t arrest him. He ain’t done nothing wrong!’
‘And who asked you, pipsqueak?’ The tall thin copper snatched hold of George’s arm and pulled him close. ‘Hey! Wait a minute.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Blond hair. Blue eyes. Skinny build. He fits the bill for that runaway evacuee Bill Jarvis came in and reported earlier. The one who stole the money off him. George Penny, wasn’t it?’
The sergeant raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘I believe you might be right, Constable.’
George’s chest fizzed with fresh anger. ‘I ain’t no thief!’
Ernst Regenbogen cleared his throat loudly and took a step forward. ‘You are mistaken, officer. This boy is the son of a friend of mine. He has been staying with us over the weekend while his father is away on business. He is coming here shortly to collect him and . . .’ He glanced at Kitty and coughed again. ‘I am sure he will be happy to look after my granddaughter too. Now please, if you are going to arrest me, can we get it over with?’
Kitty clutched his sleeve. ‘No, Opa. You do not have to go with them.’
Ernst Regenbogen reached for her hand and gave her a sad-eyed look. ‘Yes, Kitty, Liebling. I am afraid I do.’
George leapt in front of him. ‘But she’s right, Mister Regenbogen. You don’t. Tell them, Kitty. About the crown.’
Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘The crown, yes!’ She turned back to face the sergeant. ‘My grandfather, he . . . he has found something very precious. It was stolen, but he rescued it. He was going to come to the police station after supper to hand it in.’
The sergeant grunted. ‘This is no time for joking, missy.’
‘She ain’t joking. I can prove it . . .’ Before they could stop him, George wheeled round and sprinted back along the hallway and up the stairs.
As he reached the landing, a muffled bark sounded from behind the kitchen door. ‘Sorry, boy, you’ll have to wait.’
He darted into the study. The crown was on the desk where they’d left it earlier. He snatched it up, but as his skin made contact with the metal, a spike of hot pain shot through him, forcing him to release his grip.
He winced. The cut must have opened up again. He stared down at his palm, but the scar was just the same. He licked his lips and reached for the crown with his other hand, but the pain came again, only this time it was worse. Much worse. Like a red-hot poker burning into his flesh. He cried out and yanked his hand away. Uncurling his fingers, he peered down at it, but there was no trace of a mark. He looked back at the crown, eyeing it nervously. There was nothing for it – he’d have to get the coppers to come up here instead. Gritting his teeth, he headed out on to the landing and clattered back down the stairs.
Kitty shot him a puzzled look as he approached. ‘Where is it?’
He swallowed and shook his head. ‘It . . . it wouldn’t let me pick it up.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘What?’
‘Quiet! The pair of you.’ The thin copper turned to the sergeant. ‘These kids are trying to make monkeys of us, sir. The sooner we get the old man shipped off to the internment camp, the better.’
The sergeant gave a quick nod of agreement. He turned and fixed George with a stern stare. ‘Wasting police time is an offence, young man. Now stand back the pair of you and let us do our job.’
‘No! Wait. I will fetch it.’ Kitty made to dash off, but the tall copper caught her and swung her back round.
Ernst Regenbogen put out a hand. ‘Please, officer!’ He drew himself up to his full height. ‘Let me deal with this.’
The sergeant hesitated, then gave another nod. ‘All right, Sid, do as the gentleman says.’
The other copper scowled and relaxed his grip.
Ernst Regenbogen turned and pulled Kitty to him. ‘I must do what the law asks of me, Liebling.’ He raised a wrinkled hand and smoothed it over her hair.
‘Then I am coming with you!’ She flung her arms round him, pressing her face against his chest.
He loosened her fingers and gently pushed her away from him. ‘Listen to me.’ He glanced over at the two policemen and lowered his voice so only George and Kitty could hear. ‘A camp is no fit place for a child. But you cannot stay here by yourselves. You must go to the rectory and tell Reverend Griffiths what has happened. He is a good man and will find you both somewhere to stay until I can make other arrangements. And if he needs any money for your keep, Kitty, you know where to find it.’
‘But . . .’ Kitty stared up at him, brown eyes brimming with tears.
‘Come now.’ He stroked her cheek and forced his mouth into a small smile. ‘Be brave like I know you can be. We are Regenbogens and you must never forget it.’
‘Yes, Opa.’ She drew in a breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand.
‘Good girl.’ The old man turned to George and grasped him by the shoulder. ‘Look after her,
will you, George? And make sure you both do as I say, won’t you?’
George clenched his jaw and nodded.
The sergeant stepped over to them and gave a quick clear of his throat again. ‘You can bring your granddad his things tomorrow morning. We won’t be shipping him up country until the afternoon.’ Turning on his heel, he opened the front door and stepped outside.
The tall copper shoved Ernst Regenbogen in the back. ‘Come on, old man. Let’s go!’
As he pushed him through the door, Kitty cried out and tried to follow.
George grabbed her by the arm. ‘It ain’t no use.’
‘Let me go!’ She made to twist free, but he held her fast.
A few moments later, the door banged shut and there was silence.
Kitty pulled away from him, eyes flashing. ‘It is your fault. We could have stopped them if you had just shown them the crown.’
‘I told you, I tried, but—’
‘It would not let you!’ She spat the words back at him like they were bullets. ‘I thought you were our friend, but you are as bad as the rest of them.’
‘That ain’t fair! Look, it’s true. I’ll show you. Come on.’ He reached for her hand.
‘Leave me alone!’ Batting him away, she turned and stalked back down the hallway. She’d almost reached the stairs when her legs buckled and gave way beneath her. ‘Opa! My Opa!’ She lurched sideways against the banisters and crumpled to the floor.
George dashed over and squatted down next to her. ‘It’s all right, Kitty. He’ll be all right.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘Look, if we can’t take the crown to the coppers, we’ll make them come back here and—’
She shivered and shook her head. ‘You do not understand.’
‘Understand what?’
Buried Crown Page 12
