“Good. Let’s go to the Mother Tree before they notice us.”
Holly dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl through the bracken. Adam followed. The journey was rough and uncomfortable and they were scratched and covered with burrs and grass stains by the time they reached the edge of the Mother Tree’s thick tangle of roots.
“Stay here,” whispered Holly. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”
She disappeared into the bracken again.
Adam gazed in awe at the twisted black trunk ahead.
“Holly was right, you really are old!”
* * *
Holly crawled to the edge of the high bank and peeked over.
A sea of heads, some bald, some with flowing curls, some sporting hats, caps and head scarves, milled around on the road below. Snatches of conversations floated up.
“ . . . take it in turns to lie in front of the bulldozer.”
“ . . . I don’t agree. No chains. No vandalizing.”
“ . . . remember . . . peaceful protest.”
A police car edged its way up the road and parked behind the bulldozer. The crowd turned to watch and a scatter of boo’s were heard.
Holly withdrew and crawled back to Adam. “Everyone’s busy. Let’s climb the tree.” She stood up, clambered over the roots and swung herself up into the branches.
Adam followed.
* * *
Chantel sat with her back against one of the stones, her nose buried in her book. A shadow fell across the pages. She looked up.
“Mum found the note,” said Owen. “She’s on the cell phone to Dad.”
Chantel sighed. She moved over.
Owen flung himself down. “It was awful, Chantel. I don’t know what to do.”
“Me neither,” whispered Chantel. She knew he wasn’t referring to Holly or Adam. “Equus won’t answer. What if something’s happened to him too?”
They looked at each other with haunted eyes.
* * *
Adam and Holly straddled a large branch within the umbrella of green leaves. Adam’s eyes were wide. He pointed to the mistletoe.
Holly nodded. She leaned forward and stroked the trunk. “Hello, Tree,” she whispered. “We’ve come to help.”
“I bid you welcome, young Holly Berry.” The tree’s voice was a faint rustle. “You bring a friend?”
“My cousin, Adam.”
“Welcome, Adam.” A green leaf brushed his cheek.
“Er . . . thanks.” Adam shifted on the branch. This was getting awfully weird.
“I’ve lots to tell you,” Holly whispered, her mouth close to the tree bark, “but I don’t want anyone to hear.”
“Mindspeak,” whispered the tree.
Holly made herself comfortable. She leaned her back against the main trunk and closed her eyes, organizing her thoughts to tell the tale of the acorn, the wraith and Ava’s death.
Adam watched, torn between embarrassment and envy.
* * *
“Now, now, what’s going on ’ere then?” The policeman, accompanied by a workman in overalls, strolled down the road toward the group of protesters.
“You knows as well as I, Dan Pierce. It’s bin in all the papers,” retorted one of the protesters.
The policeman grinned. “I ’ave to ask though, don’t I, William Blythe? You might all just be passing through. Taking a walk like.”
“I’ll tell you what ain’t taking a walk. That there bull–dozer,” shouted someone from the back of the crowd.
“Is that so?” The policeman leaned casually against the offending machine. “Now, why’s that?”
“Because we’re going to stop it, that’s why!” shouted a woman waving a placard declaring TREES YES! ROADS NO! COUNTY COUNCIL GOT 2 GO!
She pushed her way to the front of the crowd and waggled the placard in the policeman’s face.
He gently moved it aside.
“Oh, give over, Daniel Pierce. You don’t like the clearing of the old trees any better than us. Your missis signed the petition,” said the man called William Blythe.
“That’s as may be, but my job’s the law.” The policeman surveyed the crowd and spoke slowly and clearly. “You all have a right to protest. Freedom of speech, we call it. But you are required to stand on the side of the road and allow other citizens to pass by.”
The protesters made a line along the road.
“And Doug Metcalfe here has a right to go to his place of work.”
The man in overalls climbed into the cab of the bulldozer accompanied by shouts of derision. He switched it on. Several people from the crowd moved to stand in front of the bulldozer’s blade. Doug switched it off, sat back and took a pack of sandwiches from his pocket.
The policeman nodded his approval. “Now that’s what I call a civilized protest. Remember, don’t block the road. I reckon there’ll be some right interesting citizens passing by.”
The crowd laughed.
“I’ll be watching from my car as requested. Call if you need me. Morning all.” The policeman strolled back up the road.
The man in the bulldozer offered a sandwich to the nearest protester.
* * *
Adam nearly fell out of the tree. “Did you see that, Holly? And the cop? Are they all like that over here? Where’s his gun?”
Holly opened her eyes. “Give me a break. He doesn’t need one. He knows everyone.” She sat upright. “What’s that?”
A series of ominous rhythmic bangs came closer and closer. Both children lay along the branch and peered through the leaves. A contingent of riot troops, rhythmically pounding their shields, marched up the road. A roar of disbelief rose from the protesters.
* * *
Deep in the forest, the wild boar stirred restlessly. His peaceful refuge was invaded. The hated human smell hung strong in the air around him. He snuffled and grunted, his tiny eyes darting angrily toward anything that moved.
A dead branch trembled in a fitful breeze.
The boar charged, trampled and gored until the branch lay in smithereens. He stood over the pieces, sniffing uneasily.
Then the banging started.
* * *
Adam clutched Holly’s arm. “Who’s declared war?” He stared down in horror at the advance of armored men. “This only happens in movies . . . Why are they here? No one’s done anything bad.”
A stunned Holly shook her head.
In perfect rhythm the riot troops marched up the road and made a line below the tree, their featureless masks facing the protesters.
There was a deadly silence.
The protesters inched back. They had no stomach for this. Protesting the cutting of an ancient forest was one thing, but facing riot troops was another.
“AT EASE,” roared a voice. The troops relaxed their stance and pushed up their helmets to show the sweaty faces of the local constabulary.
There were angry shouts from the protesters and a surge forward.
The troop captain stepped out, his hand up.
“HOLD IT,” he roared.
Everyone froze.
“Apologies if our outfits scared you. We’re on a training exercise. Not too much chance to train for crowd control in this neck of the woods.” He paused, waiting for a chuckle from the crowd.
The protesters stared stonily at him.
The troop captain cleared his throat. “So since we’re required to attend your protest, we thought we’d kill two birds with one stone and save taxpayers’ money.”
Someone snorted derisively.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! An insistent drumbeat interrupted him.
An entire brass band marched up the road.
Oh when the protesters, come marching in, everyone sang at the top of their voices. When the protesters come marching in.
Oh I want to be in their number, when the protesters come marching in.
The trombonist gave an extra twiddle on his instrument as the band marched past the police car. The policeman double-tooted th
e horn in reply. The riot troops moved over to make room.
“I tell you, everyone in England’s mad!” said Adam with conviction.
Holly laughed.
* * *
The wild boar was terrified. He could identify most forest noises, but these sounds he’d never heard before. They hurt his ears, and a strong human smell came with them. It was time to defend his home. Head down, he began to charge through the bracken toward the noise.
* * *
The delegate from the county council arrived in an official car, followed closely by the van from the local TV station. He stepped out, straightened his tie, smiled at the camera and launched into a prepared speech. “I would like to reassure you…”
“BOO! SHAME ON YOU!” shouted voices from the crowd.
“…that your county council is aware of the delicate balance between preservation of our natural areas and the need for progress…”
“THEN SAVE OUR TREES!” came the shouts while the band loudly played “We Shall Overcome.”
* * *
With a squeal of rage, the wild boar erupted from the bracken and appeared at the top of the bank. The dirt overhang gave way beneath him. In a mini landslide, the boar slithered down and landed half-dazed in the middle of the road.
The troop captain acted instinctively. “Circle enemy!” he roared.
With a single movement the riot troops pushed their visors in place, lowered their shields to the ground and made an impenetrable wall around the confused boar.
The protesters applauded and the TV cameras rolled.
With a gesture of resignation the county councillor hauled out his cell phone and requested a vet and tranquilizer darts.
Holly stuck her head through the leaves. “So, are you going to call it quits now?” she called.
Everyone looked up.
“Who the heck are you?” called the councillor.
“Holly and Adam. We’re doing a sit-in.”
Adam’s face appeared. “We’re not coming down until you promise to save the trees.”
Cheers and applause erupted.
The councillor groaned as the TV crew zoomed in. He’d been told never to compete for publicity with kids and dogs, and now he had kids and a wild boar. He was toast!
“I’ve researched a really good reason why you shouldn’t cut the trees,” called Holly. “And now there’s another.” She pointed down to the wild boar, which was trying to gore a hole in a riot shield. “That’s a rare animal and this is its natural habitat. I think it should be protected.”
“You’re a smart kid,” called out an approving voice.
A microphone was poked up toward Holly. “And what’s this research you’ve done, young lady?” asked the grinning TV reporter.
“Well,” said Holly, “my dad told me that Savernake Forest was a royal forest so I looked it up in the museum. It’s still a royal forest. The ancient laws say a man can be hanged for cutting down trees without royal assent.” Holly looked down at the councillor. “Did you ask the queen?” she inquired.
“I cannot answer that question without checking with council,” he muttered as he slid into the back of his car.
“Drive,” he exhorted his chauffeur.
Doug Metcalfe checked the brakes on his bulldozer and climbed down from the cab. “I reckon my boss will want to wait to see if I’m liable to be hanged.” He grinned and waved to the policeman. “Hey, Dan, going to give me a lift back?”
The band swung into a familiar tune.
“For she’s a jolly good fellow,” warbled the crowd.
* * *
“Blessings,” rustled the Mother Tree. “Holly, you have earned the mistletoe bough.” She bent down the branch so Holly could snap it off.
“Hold out your hand, Adam.”
Adam obeyed and an acorn dropped into his palm.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Use it against the wraith. Then bury it,” instructed the Mother Tree. “And cleanse your mind of its wickedness. Earth Magic will not fail this time.”
“And Ava and the Wise Ones?” asked Holly urgently.
“Can you do anything to help them?”
“Dark and light,” murmured the Mother Tree. “The dark is always blackest before the light shines again. Go in peace, young saplings. May your leaves be ever green.”
11.
THE DANCE OF THE STONES
The TV crew loaded the bikes in the rear of the van and drove Holly and Adam back to Avebury.
Lynne stood in the doorway, her nails tapping the doorframe. Holly and Adam exchanged a glance.
“Uh oh,” whispered Adam.
The explanations and introductions were a little tense.
“We’d like to film an interview with Holly and Adam in the museum,” the reporter explained to Lynne. “That’s where Holly found the information about royal assent.”
Lynne nodded shortly. “They’ll be along in a minute.” She watched while the TV crew left to set up its equipment, then turned and fixed a steely eye on the children. “As soon as the interview is completed, Holly, you and Adam meet with me in the kitchen. I’ll be waiting.” She turned to Owen and Chantel. “You come too.” She entered the kitchen. The door swung to with a slight bang.
“I warned you,” breathed Holly. “There’ll be a row. We’ll be grounded.” She followed the TV crew toward the museum.
Chantel looked miserable. “I hate it when people scream.”
“Oh, she won’t scream,” Holly said. “She goes all quiet and reasonable. It’s worse!”
Owen thumped the nearest wall. “None of this has anything to do with me,” he muttered.
Adam grabbed his arm. “Owen.” He looked around for Chantel and beckoned her over. “If we’re going to be grounded, you two have to do something quick. Holly and I will be with the TV crew.” He held out the new acorn. “Go to the manor gardens, say the words of power and throw this at the thing that was after Chantel,” he whispered rapidly. “When it’s an acorn again, bury it. That’s what the Mother Tree said to do.”
Owen shook his head. “Not me. Forget it.”
Chantel bit her lip. “I’m not going on my own. What if something goes wrong?”
“Hurry up, Adam,” called Holly from the open doorway.
Adam glared at Owen. “You have to! We’ve got to capture the wraith again and set the girl free. She’s already been there overnight. We don’t want more trouble.”
“All right, all right, if Mum will let us out of the house. But count me out after this.” Owen grabbed the acorn. “I’m doing nothing more. Get it? NOTHING!” He poked his head into the kitchen and tried to sound less angry. “Mum, can Chantel and I go and watch if we promise to come back with Holly and Adam?”
Lynne sighed. “Can I trust you?”
“It wasn’t us that took off!” said Owen, carefully avoiding the issue.
“I suppose.” Lynne pushed her hair back uneasily. “But come straight back.”
* * *
Owen and Chantel pushed through the turnstile and made their way toward the topiary garden.
Chantel poked Owen warningly.
A young woman and an older man, both in coveralls and green Wellington boots, were standing beside the ivy figure in the middle of the path.
The man scratched his head. “It’s a right old mystery. Lord Mayerthorpe knows nothing about it.”
“It’s very realistic,” remarked the woman. She tried to stick her hand through the ivy. “It must be on a wire frame.” She tried to waggle the sculpture. “The foundation’s strong.”
The children watched while both gardeners tried to heave the ivy figure up from the path. They had no success.
“We’re going to have to cut it down,” panted the woman. “Pity.”
The man shook his head. “There doesn’t seem much point in an elaborate joke like this. Wonder who did it.”
The woman shrugged. “We’ll need wire cutters as well as the pruning shears.” They passed the
children with barely a nod.
“Quick, let’s get this over before they come back.” Owen pulled the acorn from his pocket.
Chantel limped after him.
“Ready?” asked Owen. “I throw, you say the words. Then we grab the acorn and beat it!”
“I’m ready.” Chantel’s voice quavered.
Owen flung the acorn.
“Lhiat myr hoilloo,” shouted Chantel.
The acorn hit the ivy figure, shattered, and green light flickered and jumped from leaf to leaf like electricity. With a sigh, the ivy fell in a heap around the feet of the dazed girl. A faint smudge of mist left her mouth. The acorn fragments gathered around it and reformed. Owen shot out his hand and snatched the acorn before it could fall to the ground.
“Run, before she comes to,” he muttered and spun away.
Chantel hobbled after him. “Wow. Is that what happened to me?”
Owen ignored her. He rushed through the manor grounds and popped out of the exit like a cork from a bottle.
Grabbing the Bath chair, he jiggled impatiently until Chantel caught up with him.
They were on their way to the museum when they heard a terrified yell from the gardens.
“Help, someone! I’ve been abducted by aliens.”
* * *
The meeting with Lynne was not as bad as the children expected. It was hard for her to be angry when Holly and Adam were being hailed as heroes. However, all four children were grounded for the rest of the day, despite protests from Owen.
“Oh, Owen, stop moaning,” Holly finally snapped as they sprawled on the back lawn reading. “We’re all in this together.”
“Yes, but I’m the one who’s stuck with the stupid wraith in my pocket,” snapped back Owen.
“Oh no!” groaned Adam. “I told you to bury it.”
“And when was I supposed to do that?” said Owen sarcastically. “We couldn’t hang around in the garden, then we had to boot it back and get grounded with you two.”
“Take it out of your pocket,” said Holly sharply. “What if you sit on it and it smashes?”
“Exactly!” said Owen. He pulled out the acorn. “So, do we bury it here? The Circle would be safer.”
Dance of the Stones Page 12
