Master of the Scrolls

by Benjamin Ford

  ‘I can picture white… nothing but white… a white light I think. Perhaps The White Light – you know; the one you’re supposed to see when you die?’

  ‘Now then, Gloria, don’t get morbid. I’m sure you didn’t die! You wouldn’t be here if you had died!’

  Gloria frowned. ‘Something about a ghost! I have a memory of a ghost... Isabella!’

  ‘I was looking in your study, Gloria. You have finally started writing your new novel, and your heroine’s name is Isabella. Maybe that’s what you are thinking of?’

  Gloria looked at him, a slight smile forming on her lips. ‘Perhaps. There are a lot of thoughts and memories locked inside my mind. I can feel them struggling for release from their prison.’ Suddenly she burst into tears. ‘Allan, I’m so frightened, and I don’t know why!’

  Allan pulled her gently towards him, hugging and comforting her, stroking her hair reassuringly as he whispered in her ear that everything was going to be all right. ‘I’m here,’ he sighed into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ll take good care of you.’

  Wiping her eyes, Gloria smiled weakly. ‘I know you will. You are the one person I know I can always trust, the one person I can rely on and depend upon. We belong together, you and I!’

  ‘If you believe that, then why did you scream at me earlier?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was almost as if I saw someone else, not you. It must have been the concussion, because the sensation has gone now. All I’m left with is my confusion.’

  ‘I’m sure everything will return to you as soon as you’ve rested properly. I have something important to ask you, Gloria. I was going to do it the moment I returned, but under the circumstances, I think I should wait a day or two.’

  ‘There’s no time like the present, Allan. If strange things are happening, maybe you should take the plunge here and now!’

  Allan chuckled. ‘Take the plunge, eh? That’s an interesting turn of phrase, considering what I want to ask.’ He released her from his embrace, bent down on one knee and reached into his pocket. He produced a small ring box, opened it and withdrew the ring, and then placed it on Gloria’s wedding finger, holding onto her hand as he gazed up into her eyes. ‘I have loved you for so very long and cannot imagine life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Gloria looked from Allan to the ring on her finger. It seemed familiar, and she realised it was her grandmother’s engagement ring. ‘How did you get this ring?’ she asked, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I went to see your grandmother before I went abroad. I love Ravenscreag Hall, by the way. I had a nice long chat with Nana Turner, and told her I intended to propose, and she said I should have her engagement ring, which was once her own grandmother’s I believe. It’s exquisite, don’t you think? She said she wanted to keep it in the family.’

  Gloria admired the ring on her finger. It was a perfect fit. ‘I’ve always loved my grandmother’s jewellery. She doesn’t have a lot, but every piece has been passed down through the generations.’ She pressed her free hand to her throat, as if expecting to find a locket clasped around her neck, but there was none. Something stirred in her mind, but yet again, the memory remained hidden. ‘You must be about the only person other than Nana Turner who actually likes Ravenscreag Hall! Did you have difficulty finding it?’

  Allan shook his head. ‘No, surprisingly I didn’t get lost once, although the signposts aren’t very good. It was almost as if I had been there before. So… will you marry me?’

  Gloria removed the ring, regarding it with great sadness before passing it back to Allan with a gentle shake of her head. ‘I’m not saying yes or no at this moment in time, Allan. Please, I hope you understand, but I need to get my memory back first.’

  Allan hid his disappointment with a reassuring smile. ‘Of course I understand. As I said, I am here for you, heart and soul, body and mind. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is this ring!’ He kissed her on the lips tenderly. ‘Get some rest; I’ll be downstairs.’

  *

  After her sojourn into the woods with Allan, Louise returned to George’s cottage. Now that he had revealed the return of his own childhood nightmares, she was as concerned for her brother as she was for Gloria. How could she have forgotten the screams that had awoken her on numerous occasions as a young child? Even as Gloria endured her own nightmare at Ravenscreag Hall, she had hidden them from her conscious mind. Allan never spoke of what he witnessed in his own dreams, maintaining that dreams were private – even when those private dreams disturbed the sleep of others.

  He had last endured the dream when he was eight, and for so many years had been free of its grasp, but now, to find out it had returned – the very notion frightened Louise.

  She had thought she was going to lose her best friend forever, upon discovery of the stupid curse. She had been relieved when that scenario played itself out, resulting in the safe return of her friend, and had instantly regretted her impetuous suggestion that Gloria should do something about her sense of loss, especially when she subsequently disappeared. However, Gloria was back, with no memory of what had happened, so perhaps, finally, that would be an end to it!

  Now she feared she was going to lose Allan to his own insanity. The nightmares had almost driven him mad as a child. Their parents had taken him to see a Psychologist, who had proclaimed Allan must have endured some terrible ordeal at a very early age, the memory of which he had repressed with the salvation that is the human subconscious. He said something must have triggered the repressed memory, and suggested hypnotherapy.

  Louise was never told what happened during those sessions with the Psychologist. All she knew was that after the final visit, no more nightmares plagued her brother, and she had forgotten all about it. Her parents never mentioned that time of their lives, and Allan certainly never talked about what had happened, so Louise had forgotten everything, banished the memories as if they were no more than bad dreams themselves.

  Now the nightmares had returned once more to haunt her brother, and Louise was very afraid for him. She had pressed him to tell her about the nightmares as they walked through the woods on the edge of the village. Having seen the fear in his eyes amid the gloom of the trees, she wondered whether she really wanted to know.

  She need not have worried. Allan remained reluctant to speak of them.

  George was in the kitchen clearing away the mess he had made at lunchtime when she came through the door. He could tell something was wrong, and asked how Gloria was. ‘She’s okay. Mild concussion and amnesia, but apart from that, she’ll be fine.’

  ‘She has regained consciousness? Does she remember nothing at all? Is it total amnesia, or selected amnesia?’

  Louise whirled on him. ‘Why are you so interested in what Gloria’s been through, George? Why the constant questions about her this past week? Ever since I told you about her peculiar destiny you have been obsessed with her, and I’m sick of it! I want to know what’s going on!’

  ‘Nothing is going on, my dear,’ said George in the sweetest voice he could muster, forcing himself to stem the rising tide of anger he felt towards this irritating woman. She stood between him and his goal, and it infuriated him that he should constantly have to reign in his natural tendencies. He breathed deeply, calming himself. ‘I am merely concerned for her, nothing more. She has been a good employer to me, as she has been a friend over the years. It is concern, nothing more.’ He smiled, knowing her to be the linchpin with which he could get closer to Gloria. Was that not after all the reason he had quietly selected Louise when he had seen her vulnerable state last month? But he must be patient – patient and calm. Even though his presence was now permanent, he must not yet reveal himself. It was far too early for that.

  ‘I’m sorry, George, I didn’t mean to snap. I think the whole situation is getting to me! And now with Allan...’ Her voice trailed off as she became lost in thought.<
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  ‘What of your brother?’ asked George, intrigued. He dried his hands and came over to her. ‘Are you all right? Has something happened to Allan?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain. He used to have nightmares as a child, and now they seem to have returned.’

  George frowned. ‘What manner of nightmares?’

  A note of alarm had crept into George’s voice, which further disturbed Louise. She felt a prickle of fear creep up her spine, and kept her eyes averted, pretending to be lost in thought still. ‘He wouldn’t say. He never did as a child, either.’ Suddenly she felt as though she could not bear to be in the same place as George. She told herself that it was irrational, but that did not work. ‘I think I need to lie down for a bit,’ she said, and left the kitchen without so much as a parting glance at George.

  When she closed the door to the bedroom behind her, she sat on the end of the bed, aware that she was shaking. Why did George suddenly frighten her so much? First, there was his changed voice, and his countless questions about Gloria, and then something about his whole demeanour had changed again. When told about Gloria’s destiny, he had become possessed with some kind of desperation, as though he sensed time was running out; and now she had revealed that Allan was having nightmares he seemed to change yet again – this time he seemed frightened for some reason, like a caged animal.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she whispered to herself. She knew George was not going to tell her, and Allan was not about to break the habit of a lifetime and talk about his dreams. She knew of only one person who might hold the answers, and Mary Turner had returned to Ravenscreag Hall at the beginning of the week.

  There’s only one thing for it – I shall have to go back to that wretched house myself!

  It was a prospect Louise did not in any way relish.

  *

  As Gloria slept for most of the afternoon, Allan sat downstairs, contemplating her physical appearance. He was shocked at how much she seemed to have aged since he last saw her, her usual immaculate appearance, bandages aside, very much lacking in evidence. She looked thinner and wearier than he recalled, yet she also seemed oddly content. Louise had told him about the life Gloria had made for herself in the Sixteenth Century, and that she already had one child by the man James Trevayne, her husband from that time. Family life obviously agreed with her.

  James Trevayne.

  Odd how that name keeps appearing in my life, mused Allan pensively.

  Gloria’s great-great-grandfather.

  Gloria’s husband.

  Is he perhaps the Evil One that the dreams warn me of?

  Louise had told him about the mysterious book, written by Isabella Neville before her death and completed by a descendent, Ria Neville. She said the book held all the answers. Maybe it might unlock Gloria’s memories also… perhaps even his too!

  Allan searched the house for it from top to bottom, including Gloria’s bedroom, though he made certain not to disturb her. He could find no trace of the mysterious handwritten book, but he once more read Gloria’s notes for her new novel after he had searched her study. It made fascinating reading, as it clearly paralleled the life of Isabella Neville, but it ultimately told him none of the answers he needed. He sorely wanted to understand the nature of his dreams, and Gloria was the key to unlocking the mysteries of his mind… but they would first have to unlock the memories trapped within her mind. The book was the key to that, but it seemed to have vanished, and with it, any proof that might exist to corroborate that he was no madder than Gloria was.

  One thing was for sure, he had to unlock the secrets of the past before Samuel Wylams resurfaced, because when that happened, all hell would break loose.

  There was only one thing for it. He would have to seek the counsel of that all-powerful Seer who seemed to know everything.

  He would have to visit Mary Turner, and he would take Gloria with him.

  *

  A week after her dramatic return, Gloria’s amnesia had not improved at all, and neither had Allan’s apparent insomnia. Both were genuinely concerned about each other, and on top of this George Palmer, hammering on the front door and yelling to be let in, had awakened them on Wednesday morning. He demanded to know where Louise had disappeared to, and Allan, who seldom swore, opened the bedroom window and shouted down at him to bugger off, which made Gloria giggle like a schoolgirl.

  Neither of them knew where Louise had gone, but when Allan telephoned his mother later that morning, she informed him that his sister was fine, but would elaborate no further.

  ‘I can’t cope with all these mysteries,’ Gloria said. ‘I think it’s about time we took a trip north, to see Nana Turner!’

  Allan agreed, but was concerned that Gloria was still a bit weak, which she proclaimed was pure nonsense, and so they packed and were ready to leave on the Friday morning.

  Friday dawned rather cooler than it had been of late, and since neither Gloria nor Allan felt particularly inclined to drive all the way to Scotland, they decided to go by train. The man at Crowborough Station ticket office commented that he had never before sold so many tickets to Kingussie in such a short space of time. There had been the young Scot accompanied by the very elderly lady on Monday, the young woman yesterday afternoon, and the older man earlier that very morning – and now them. Jokingly, the man asked if there was a special function happening at Kingussie.

  ‘Our wedding!’ said Gloria without smiling, as she and Allan made their way onto the platform. She looked at Allan. ‘If we get our answers up there, then I will marry you.’

  Allan’s face lit up with happiness and he kissed her. ‘Thank you.’ He produced the ring and slipped it back onto her finger. ‘I’ve been carrying this everywhere with me, Gloria. You should have it anyway, whether we get married or not. It belongs in your family!’

  ‘Thank you, Allan!’ Gloria returned his kiss and they sat on the bench, awaiting the train that would take them as far as London. ‘Who do you suppose were the other four people travelling up to Kingussie that he mentioned?’

  ‘Well, I’d say the first couple is obviously your grandmother and that man, Phil.’

  Gloria glanced sideways at him at the mention of Phil’s name. It was not so much the name, rather the angry manner in which Allan spat it out, which caused Gloria consternation. It seemed to her that Allan knew something she could not recall, and his anger disturbed her.

  ‘I’d guess the young lady he referred to is Louise,’ he continued, oblivious to Gloria’s unease.

  ‘Lou? Why on earth would she be travelling to see Nana Turner?’

  Allan shrugged. ‘Maybe she has questions of her own that need answering. I’m sure we’ll find out when we get up there. Who do you reckon the older guy is?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. But if Lou is up there, maybe George has gone up after her.’

  The prospect of George Palmer skulking around Ravens-creag somehow made them both distinctly uneasy, though neither could reason why.

  *

  Rachel had called a council of war when Gloria told her she and Allan were going up to Ravenscreag Hall. She had telephoned Susan and Daniel and asked them to call round on Friday morning, informing them that she had important news, which Jeremy thought a huge mistake; it was information best kept within the family.

  Rachel countered that Susan and Daniel were family as far as she was concerned, a notion Jeremy was forced to concur with, so reluctantly, still convinced it was an ill-conceived idea, he sat silent and sullen on the sofa in the front drawing room as Rachel ushered the other couple in.

  They drank tea and chatted amiably for half an hour, before Susan could stand the tension in the room no longer. ‘Okay you two, are you going to tell us what’s going on, or are we to be permanently in the dark?’

  Rachel put down her cup, the saucer rattling slightly from her nerves. Susan and Daniel were perturbed, for nervous-ness was one thing that had never afflicted Rachel Schofield. ‘How long have we known each other, Susan?’


  Susan chuckled mirthlessly. ‘I wouldn’t like to say. Too long… long enough to know when something is wrong!’

  ‘Long enough to know that I’m not given to flights of fancy? Long enough to know that I am not insane? Long enough to know I’d never lie to either of you?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Rachel, what on earth is the matter?’ gasped Susan as her oldest friend burst into tears, shaking like a palm tree battered by hurricane winds. She immediately went to sit beside Rachel, wrapping an arm around her protectively. ‘Come on, out with it!’

  In a jumble of words, Rachel told the astounded pair everything, and when she finished, Susan and Daniel looked at Jeremy for confirmation. He merely shrugged. ‘You tell me – is she mad? I hope not, but then again, part of me hopes she is!’

  ‘She’s not,’ whispered Susan, hardly able to bring herself to look at her friends.

  ‘Susan, we promised Allan we’d never tell!’ warned Daniel.

  Susan turned to her husband. ‘They need to know, darling. Isn’t it clear now that Allan was no more mad back then than Gloria is now? Is our tale no less believable and no more fantastic than what Rachel has just told us? Don’t you see the connection?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Jeremy.

  Susan returned her attention her hosts. ‘Do you remember when Allan was very young, he was constantly screaming?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘Yes, we remember. It was almost enough to put us off having children. What of it?’

  Taking a deep breath, Susan began her tale. ‘That screaming went on for years, until we eventually took him to see a child psychologist, who suggested Allan had been traumatised by something when he was younger. I thought he was going to accuse us of being bad parents, but he surprised us by suggesting hypnotism. He believed Allan was suffering from flashes of past life memory and regressed Allan to his past life! It turns out that Allan was a man who lived in the Sixteenth Century.’