‘Nooooo!’ The man gave the doorknob one final yank. As the door rattled open, he threw himself through it, the wolf hard on his heels. There was a stifled scream followed by a sharp ripping noise, then the sound of boots pounding off into the distance.
George dropped the axe head and raced down the hall to the open door. A four-legged shadow stood at the bottom of the steps. As he crossed the threshold, it turned its head. A pair of bright eyes winked back at him and a brown snout nosed the air.
‘Spud! Are you all right, boy?’ George clattered down the steps and pulled the dog into a hug.
‘Has he gone?’
He glanced up. Kitty stood at the top of the steps, peering out into the darkening street.
‘Quicker than a rat down a drainpipe, thanks to this fella.’ George hugged Spud tight again. The dog gave a pleased-sounding yip and dropped a ragged piece of cloth into his lap.
Kitty jumped down the steps and crouched beside them, frowning. ‘What is that?’
George picked the cloth up and examined it. ‘The seat of his trousers from the looks of it!’ He pulled a face as a whiff of manure and stale beer pricked his nose.
‘Wait! Look. He has dropped something too.’ Kitty bent over and fished a shiny object from the gutter.
As she swung the battered pocket watch in front of him, George’s heart gave a sudden lurch. ‘It’s Bill Jarvis’s.’
Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘But why would he come here? Unless . . .’ Her eyes grew wider still. ‘Maybe those policemen told him about you?’
George shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s me he was after.’
She shot him a puzzled look. ‘What then?’
He drew in a breath and puffed it out again. ‘I think . . . I think it’s the crown.’
‘But how could he know about it?’
‘Cos the poacher told him.’
Her frown deepened. ‘I do not understand.’
He let out another sigh. ‘You will when you’ve heard.’ Kitty slipped the watch into her dress pocket and sank down alongside him.
When he’d finished telling her about the meeting between Jarvis and the poacher, she shuddered and drew her arms about her. ‘So the poacher kept on following us after the army truck had gone?’
‘He must’ve.’
‘But how does he know Bill Jarvis?’
‘I saw them together a couple of days ago, near the crossroads, the first time me and Spud tried to get away from the farm.’
‘You did not say before.’
He shrugged. ‘It didn’t seem important.’
‘What were they doing?’
‘Trading.’
She looked at him blankly.
‘Jarvis was selling him some of his rotten potatoes – I spotted a few in the ashes back at the camp. The poacher must’ve worked out he was a wrong’un and thought he’d get him to do his dirty work for him.’
‘Dirty work?’
‘You know. Paying him to come and steal the crown. One thing’s for sure, he’s desperate to get his hands on it again.’
Kitty’s forehead furrowed again. ‘What does he look like?’
‘Jarvis?’
‘No. The poacher.’
‘You saw him back at the camp didn’t you?’
She shook her head. ‘I was too busy trying to get away.’
‘Tall, fair hair. A bony-looking face. But why—’
She drew in a sudden breath.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You remember we told you about Opa’s digging partner. The archaeology student who believed there was a crown?’
George’s mind flitted back to the blurred-faced man in the photograph she had shown him yesterday. He pulled back and stared at her. ‘What? You don’t think it’s him, do you?’
She frowned. ‘I . . . I do not know. But your description fits and he knows all about it – the crown I mean.’
‘But I thought your granddad said he went back to Germany before the war started?’
‘Yes, but what if he has come back to look for it?’
George jerked up his shoulders. ‘But why? I mean, if he was caught, they’d probably shoot him.’
Kitty pulled a face. ‘I suppose so, but—’
‘Look, it can’t be him. It’s more likely a crook who heard about the ship burial and thought he’d dig himself up some treasure while everyone else was busy with the war.’ A sudden thought struck him. ‘Wait! Jarvis agreed to meet the poacher at midnight.’
‘So?’
‘So if he don’t turn up, I reckon the real thief ’ll come back for the crown himself.’
She shivered. ‘We must go to the police and tell them what has happened. We can give them the watch.’ She took the scrap of cloth from him. ‘And this too.’
He shook his head. ‘They won’t believe us. You saw what those two were like earlier, wanting to pin the blame on your granddad when he ain’t done nothing wrong. They’ll probably say I stole the watch off Jarvis, same as the money.’
A sudden rushing sound filled the air. Spud yelped and leapt to his feet. George glanced up and froze. A great black bird had landed on the top step above them and was busy rearranging its feathers with its beak.
‘Husch! Geh schon!’ Kitty jumped to her feet and dashed up the steps, flapping her dress, but the bird refused to move.
‘I said, go!’ As she made to run at it again, George sprang up and blocked her.
‘Leave it.’
‘But it might go inside.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘How do you know?’
He swallowed. ‘I . . . I think it’s here because of me.’
It sounded mad, but as the bird fixed its bright black eyes on him, he knew it was true.
Kitty stared at him, mouth open, eyes round as dinner plates. ‘What are you talking about?’
Gripping hold of Spud’s collar, George threw the bird another look. It sat there on the step unmoving, head on one side, as if waiting for an answer too.
He licked his lips. ‘You remember the bird back at the poacher’s camp?’
Kitty glanced at it, eyebrows raised. ‘You mean it is the same one?’
‘Yes. And I think you were right. It was the one that dive-bombed the poacher too – yesterday, when I saw him in the woods with the sack.’
‘But why?’
He shrugged. ‘The size for one thing.’
‘No, I mean why would it want to attack the poacher?’
‘I dunno, but it was here last night as well. And up at the mounds.’
Kitty frowned. ‘So you think it is following you?’
Before George could reply, the bird hopped closer and gave a loud croak.
A sudden chill waft of dank-smelling air pricked his nostrils and for a moment he was back there under the tree, staring into the shadows at something . . . someone . . . A prickle of sweat spiked his scalp. He shivered and looked away.
Kitty tugged at his sleeve. ‘There is something else. I can tell. And what did you mean about the mounds?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘I thought we were friends?’ She had that look on her face again; like she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
He heaved a sigh. ‘All right.’ Shooting another quick glance at the bird, he sank down on the bottom step and pulled Spud to him.
Kitty dropped down beside him and tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Well?’ She looked at him expectantly.
He ran a hand across the back of his neck, cleared his throat and began.
He started off telling her about the tree; how he thought he’d seen Spud making for it, then, when he’d got beneath it and couldn’t find him, he’d panicked. ‘And that’s when I saw it . . . him.’ He shivered again as the memory of the tall dark figure rose up before him.
‘Who?’
‘The man. Least I think it was.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘No. Just pointed at me. But he was angry. Real
ly angry.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I could feel it.’ He shuddered, remembering the terrible feeling of ice-cold rage. ‘And there was something else too . . . on his finger. A ring.’
Kitty’s eyes grew wider still. ‘What did it look like?’
He swallowed. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t get close enough, but it was gold, I think.’
She drew in a breath. ‘What happened next?’
‘Nothing. He . . . he disappeared and the bird came, and then I heard Spud barking and you arrived.’ He bit his lip. ‘I thought afterwards it was a turn.’
She frowned. ‘A turn? What is that?’
He felt his cheeks redden. Should he try and explain? No – it was too embarrassing. Best keep it simple. ‘Er . . . nothing. I mean, I must have imagined it.’
A strange look crept across her face. ‘I do not think so.’
‘What?’
Her eyes glittered back at him in the gloom. ‘There is something I must tell you. I did not say before, because I thought you would mock me. But . . . well . . .’
Now it was his turn to look puzzled. ‘Go on.’
‘There is a story—’
He rolled his eyes.
‘No. Listen. Opa told me. It was before he and the others started work on the dig. The lady who lives in the big house claimed one of her guests woke one night to see a line of ghostly Anglo–Saxon warriors riding across the mound field. They were carrying flaming torches in their hands. The woman told her it looked like a funeral procession for someone important. Someone who died long ago. That was why she asked Opa and the others to come and dig there. People thought she was mad. But then’ – Kitty’s eyes shone brighter still – ‘they found the treasure.’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘That . . . well, what if it was a ghost you saw too?’
A finger of ice slid up George’s spine. Could she be right? No, it was daft to even think it.
Craak!
He started. ‘Bloomin’ crow!’ He shot the bird an angry look.
‘It is not a crow. It is a raven.’
He shrugged. ‘Crow. Raven. What does it matter?’
Kitty pursed her lips. ‘But it does matter. It matters a lot.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘The people of those times believed ravens were messengers between the gods and the world of the living and the dead.’
Another fairy story! George jumped to his feet. ‘Look, I’ve had enough of this. All I want is for them to find Charlie and . . . and for this rotten war to stop so we can go back home and be like we were before.’ He kicked angrily at the step, shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away.
Kitty leapt up beside him and pulled him back round, eyes shining. ‘I want the same for me and Opa, but this is important. I know it is!’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look. What if we are both right? What if this bird has been following you? And what if it is trying to give you a message too?’
‘A message from who?’
‘The ghost.’
He gave a loud snort. ‘The ghost? So what does it want?’
‘You said the bird attacked the poacher?’
He nodded.
‘What if . . .’ Her eyes widened. ‘What if the ghost wants the crown?’
‘The crown? But why?’
Her eyes sparked with sudden fire. ‘What if it is the king’s ghost? Redwald?’
George stared at her in disbelief. It was bad enough thinking there really was a ghost – but this?
But she hadn’t finished yet. ‘Remember what the legend says. If the crown is safe, then the kingdom will prosper. But if it falls into the wrong hands . . .’
‘So if this . . . this ghost doesn’t get the crown back, we’re going to lose the war? Is that it?’
She flushed. ‘I know it sounds impossible, but—’
He shook his head. ‘You must be off your rocker.’
A whoosh of feathers sounded above them and something sharp spiked the top of George’s scalp. ‘Ouch!’ He raised a hand to his head and looked up. The raven was circling above him, black claws extended. It gave another loud croak, then flew down and landed on the pavement in front of him, fixing him with its beady eyes.
A fresh chill rippled along his spine. He puffed out a breath. ‘All right. Say for a moment it’s all true. What d’you expect me to do about it?’
‘You have to return the crown. Before . . .’ Kitty raised her hand and curled her fingers round the star-shaped pendant at her throat. ‘Before it is too late.’
‘But why me?’
‘I do not know. The ghost must have its reasons.’
‘So tell me, how am I going to take the thing back when I can’t even pick it up?’
‘Show me!’ Turning, Kitty dashed up the steps and disappeared back inside the house. George licked his lips and eyed the raven again. It cocked its head and blinked back at him.
‘Come on, boy.’ He grabbed hold of Spud’s collar and tugged him inside.
When they got to the study, it was thick with shadows. Kitty made a beeline for the desk. George pulled up alongside her and stared at the dark shape in front of them.
She gave him a gentle nudge. ‘Go on. Try.’
He wavered for a moment, then put out his hand. As his fingers brushed the metal, he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to strike.
But nothing happened. He snapped his eyes open and drew back his hand.
Kitty peered back at him. ‘What is wrong?’
‘I-I dunno.’ He reached out and touched the crown again. Still nothing. He lifted it up gingerly and ran a finger across the dragon crest. ‘It don’t make sense. Why is it letting me touch it now?’
She frowned. ‘I do not know.’
They stared at it in silence. He was about to put it down again when she let out a sharp breath. ‘What if the crown really was made by Wayland?’
‘That’s just a story.’
‘Yes, but remember what Opa said. How all stories have a grain of truth in them?’ Her eyes flashed silver in the gloom.
‘Yes, but he didn’t mean—’
She wasn’t listening. ‘What if when you cut your hand, some of the dragon’s blood Wayland used to make the charm got into the wound?’
‘What are you trying to say? That it’s got some sort of power over me?’
‘Why not?’
George tilted the crest towards him and frowned. He didn’t know what to think any more. He glanced back at Kitty. She stood, head bowed, pressing her pendant to her lips. What if she was right after all? What if this was the crown from the legend? And what if it had been King Redwald’s ghost he’d seen beneath the tree? But how could it be? Everyone knew there was no such thing as ghosts. Well, everyone except Kitty and those two mad women she’d told him about earlier.
A bolt of hot pain shot up his arm. He cried out and dropped the crown down on the desk.
Kitty clutched at his sleeve. ‘What happened? Are you all right?’
‘I think so.’ He sucked in a breath and forced himself to look back at the crown. As his gaze fell on the crest, the dragon’s eyes seemed to pulse again with a faint red glow. He gritted his teeth and turned to face her. ‘OK. I’ll do it.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll take the bloomin’ thing up there and stick it back in the ground.’
She gripped his arm. ‘You will?’
‘I just said so, didn’t I?’
‘When?’
‘The sooner the better from the sound of it.’
A flicker of mischief lit up her eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t believe in fairy tales, George Penny?’
He flushed. ‘I don’t. Pass me my bag, will you?’ He jerked his head to where the knapsack lay next to the sofa.
Kitty picked it up and handed it to him. As George reached inside it, his hand brushed against the feather. He shoved it quickly to the bottom and pulled out his things, laying them down on the desk.
&nb
sp; ‘What is that?’ Kitty pointed at the two halves of the album.
His chest tightened. ‘It’s cigarette cards. Planes of the RAF. It was a present from Charlie, but Jarvis went and ruined it.’
She frowned. ‘I am sorry. Perhaps it can be repaired.’ He shook his head. ‘It won’t be the same.’ His chest cramped again. Nothing would be. Not if Charlie didn’t come back. Not if they lost the war either.
He turned back to the crown and jabbed it with the tip of his little finger. The metal felt cold to the touch. He heaved out a sigh. None of it made any sense, but if burying it again would make Kitty happy . . .
The clock in the hallway chimed the hour. Seven . . . eight . . . nine.
George pulled on his jersey. Then, wrapping the crown in his pyjama shirt, he slid it inside the knapsack and hoisted it on to his back. ‘Come on, boy.’ He bent down and fastened the lead to Spud’s collar.
‘Wait!’ Kitty slipped out through the door. She was back a few moments later, a red cardigan buttoned over the top of her dress, a pair of brown sandals on her feet. ‘Here.’ She thrust a small black torch and a penknife into his hands. ‘We might need these.’
‘We?’
‘I am coming with you.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She pursed her lips and jutted out her chin, and he knew then it would be hopeless to try and get her to change her mind.
They wolfed down a slice of bread each and took a quick swig of milk, then headed back downstairs.
George glanced up as they stepped out on to the pavement. The moon was already high in the darkening sky.
‘We won’t use the torch until we’re clear of town, in case the warden’s on the prowl.’ He tightened his grip on Spud’s lead. ‘Ready?’
Kitty drew in a breath and nodded.
‘Come on, then. Let’s go!’
As she pulled the door shut, there was a rustle of feathers behind them. George wheeled round just in time to see the raven jump from its perch on the window sill and lift up above them. It circled once over their heads before flying off down the street, its great wings slicing like blades through the cool night air.
Kitty’s eyes gleamed back at him. ‘Look, it is showing us the way.’
George made a huffing sound. ‘We don’t need no bloomin’ bird telling us what we already know. And make sure you keep to the shadows, in case there’s a copper about.’ He yanked the knapsack tight against his back and headed down the hill.
Buried Crown Page 14
