‘The Camp Prefect at Viroconium had lots of shiny armour and weapons. I just thought they were the sort of thing a water nymph might have taken a fancy to.’
‘Some might, but not me. I stayed right away from Romans.’
‘Did you ever go to Viroconium?’
‘Never.’
Jack sighed. He was getting nowhere. Elan put her hand on Jack’s shoulder and stepped forward.
‘Who would have been in the spring at Viroconium?’
‘How would I know? What did she look like?’
‘She looked very much like you,’ said Jack nervously.
Jennet ran her long green fingers down her cheeks before thrusting her head towards Jack.
‘Was she as beautiful?’
Jack was going to say it was dark and he hadn’t seen her too well, but Camelin interrupted before he could speak.
‘Nowhere near as beautiful as you and her hair was a lot greener than yours.’
‘Hmm, not as beautiful, darker hair, a few hundred years ago, Viroconium. Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.’
‘Do you think she knows who it was?’ asked Jack.
‘I think I know what she’s gone to fetch,’ replied Nora. ‘Jennet likes to be well informed, so she has a list of all the water nymphs. Just in case any of them might be more beautiful than she is!’
‘Here we are,’ Jennet announced as she resurfaced. ‘My list.’
She had three slates in her hand. Jack could see that the top one had strange markings scratched onto it. They were like the ones they’d seen on the standing stone earlier. Jennet coughed then began reading the names:
‘Isen, Nymet, Myryl, Kerrin, Coriss, Uriel, Lucie…’
‘How many names are on the list?’ Elan asked.
‘Too many,’ grumbled Camelin.
Nora gave him a disapproving look then smiled at Jennet.
‘Could you find out quickly for us which nymph it might have been?’
‘Don’t do information, you need a Bogie for that,’ Jennet replied, thrusting the slates into Nora’s hand before disappearing, once more, into the well.
‘It looks like we’re going to have to pay Peabody a visit. I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to see him again so soon.’
‘You didn’t ask her for my sign?’ grumbled Camelin.
‘And she didn’t ask for the…’ began Elan, just before a surge of bubbles exploded from the well.
‘My green magic…’ crooned Jennet as she stretched out her long fingers towards Elan.
‘My symbol,’ demanded Camelin.
‘A symbol? Now what would you be wanting with one of those?’
‘Camelin has a lath now,’ explained Jack.
Jennet looked surprised.
‘And in return for the symbol I can have the magic bottle?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Nora.
Jennet leant over the rim of the well and sniffed the air.
‘Here it is. Come and touch it.’
Camelin shuffled over and touched the rock with the end of his beak. There was a sudden flash. A symbol, carved deeply into the rock, began to glow. The tip of Camelin’s beak glowed too.
‘Hot, hot!’ Camelin shouted as he hopped around.
Sparks flew out of the end of Camelin’s wand. One landed on top of Jack’s head followed by the smell of burning hair.
‘I’m burning!’ yelled Jack.
Nora scooped up a handful of water and threw it over Jack’s head.
‘You said I was dangerous with my wand! Look what you’ve done with yours, you’ve singed my hair.’
‘Now, now, you two,’ chided Nora. ‘It was an accident. Your hair will grow back Jack. It’s only made a small bald patch.’
‘Can’t we grow it back with magic?’ asked Jack.
‘I haven’t got a lot of magic to spare at the moment. I’m saving what little I’ve got left for when we need it. Besides, growing hair with magic isn’t advisable, you never know what might happen. It could come back pink. It’s better to let it grow back naturally.’
Camelin chuckled. There was a strange rasping noise coming from the well as Jennet laughed too. She wriggled her fingers impatiently. As soon as Elan put the bottle in her hand she vanished.
‘Well, we seem to have a problem,’ sighed Nora. ‘I hadn’t anticipated this. I’d hoped we could remake the cauldron again this afternoon.’
Elan looked at the slates.
‘We’re going to have to find Peabody. We haven’t got time to visit all the nymphs on Jennet’s list.’
‘We’ll go,’ volunteered Jack, smiling at Camelin.
‘We will?’
‘It’d be quicker if you flew,’ said Elan.
‘We’ll take your clothes and wands. Come back to the house as soon as you’ve got the information we need from Peabody,’ said Nora. ‘With any luck you won’t have to search far, he might still be in the Gnori in Newton Gill Forest.’
Jack and Camelin transformed and flew off towards Newton Gill.
They landed on one of the Gnarles lower branches.
‘Hello,’ Jack shouted.
‘Hello to you,’ replied a sleepy voice from the tree they were perched in.
‘Have you seen Peabody?’ Jack asked. ‘He’s the Bogie you saved me from the last time I was here.’
‘I’ve got a good memory for faces, but I don’t remember speaking to any ravens lately.’
‘It’s Jack. Jack Brenin.’
The Gnarle screwed up his eyes and peered up at Jack.
‘He’s a raven boy now, like me,’ explained Camelin.
‘A raven boy, why didn’t you say? Have you come to sing to us again Jack. You did promise.’
‘We’re in a bit of a hurry at the moment. We need to see Peabody. Is he still living in the Gnori?’
‘Oh yes, he’s still there. He’s had it all done up since you were here last. Got a new front door. Lots of comings and goings. Getting busy again in the forest but no one ever gives us a second glance. It’d be nice to hear a song again, now you’re here.’
‘Well, maybe one verse, but then we really will have to go.’
‘What about the one that starts again at the end?’ said Camelin. ‘You know the one I mean, don’t you? It’s about an old man and the whiskers on his chin. I like that one, it goes on forever.’
Jack nodded. He knew the song Camelin wanted to sing.
They swooped down to the forest floor and began croaking loudly:
There once was a man named Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chinnegan,
The wind came up and blew them in ag’in,
Poor old Michael Finnegan (begin ag’in).
The Gnarle stopped them.
‘That’s quite all right; you don’t need to begin again. Didn’t you say you were in a hurry? Maybe when you’ve got a bit more time, and you’re a boy again, you could come back and sing to us?’
‘I will,’ Jack promised as he and Camelin set off towards the Gnori.
The Gnarle had been right. Instead of an open crack in the hollow trunk of the old oak, Jack could see a brand new front door. A large notice written in crooked capital letters had been pinned to it.
‘NOT AT HOME,’ read Camelin before rapping on the door with his beak.
‘Can’t you read?’ shouted an angry voice from inside. ‘I’m not at home.’
‘I can read and you obviously are at home.’
‘Not to visitors I’m not.’
‘This is important. We’ve come on an errand from Nora,’ Jack croaked.
There were a lot of hurrying footsteps followed by bolts being drawn. Finally, a key turned in the lock and the door opened slightly. A long nose appeared through the crack.
‘From the Great Seanchai, you say?’
‘Hurry up and let us in. This is important,’ grumbled Camelin.
‘She needs your help,’ explained Jack.
‘My help! Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Come in, come
in. Go straight through. Just follow the tunnel.’
The door slammed and was locked behind them.
‘Here we are,’ Peabody announced as they entered a large room.
Some of the roots from the hollow tree above were poking through the walls and an array of hats hung on them. There was a collection of coins and shiny things on the table which Peabody hurriedly covered with a cloth.
‘It reminds me of a Spriggan’s tunnel,’ said Jack as he looked at the smooth walls.
‘That’s probably because Spriggans made it. A sort of compensation for my brother getting me into so much trouble.’
Peabody stroked his long nose before speaking again.
‘Now, how can I be of service?’
‘We need to know which water nymph would have been in the spring at Viroconium,’ explained Jack.
Peabody rubbed his chin.
‘That’s a long time ago. I’m going to need my thinking hat for that one.’
‘Thinking hat? I thought most people had a thinking cap!’ said Jack trying not to laugh.
‘That’s most people. Now let me see, which one goes back a few hundred years?’
Peabody paced up and down in front of the row of hats before choosing the most battered one.
‘It used to have a beautiful feather stuck in the band. I don’t suppose either of you have got a feather to spare?’
‘No we have not,’ snapped Camelin. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, can you come up with an answer? We don’t have much time.’
Peabody put the hat on, sat down on a tree stump and closed his eyes.
‘Viroconium you say?’
‘Viroconium,’ Jack and Camelin confirmed together.
Peabody sat and muttered to himself for what seemed like a very long time. At last he stood up and replaced the hat.
‘Well?’ said Camelin expectantly.
‘I’ve gone through every water nymph I can think of. I only know of three who’ve ever lived west of here. It’s going to be Coriss, Myryl or Uriel. They’re Undines, they prefer wells and springs.’
‘Oh great!’ Camelin grumbled. ‘Three of them.’
‘Well it’s better than having to go through all the names on Jennet’s list,’ whispered Jack.
‘I hope I’ve been of help. You will tell the Great Seanchai how helpful I’ve been, won’t you?’
‘We will, but we’d better be going now. Thank you,’ said Jack.
Peabody led the way back to his new front door and let them out. As soon as the door shut behind them the key was turned and the bolts were slid noisily back.
‘You did well,’ Nora said when they told her about their meeting with Peabody. ‘Go and transform now and we’ll all give this a bit of thought.’
‘Have you met any of the nymphs before?’ Jack asked Camelin as he dressed.
‘Only Myryl, but it was a long time ago now. Come on! Race you downstairs.’
It wasn’t much of a race. Camelin flew while Jack had to take the stairs. By the time he got to the kitchen Elan and Nora were already discussing the nymphs on Peabody’s list.
‘Isn’t Myryl an expert on cauldrons?’ asked Elan.
‘You’re right. She’d be the best one to start with, she knows just about everything there is to know about cauldrons. We’ll visit her first, but not until tomorrow. It’s getting late. Jack, you ought to be getting back home. You’ve had a very busy weekend and it’s school tomorrow.’
‘But I wanted to go with you.’
‘We can’t go without you,’ replied Elan.
Nora agreed.
‘If you’ve given a water nymph something and you need it back, you have to ask for it yourself. You also need to have something ready for the exchange, and it has to something special.’
‘What will I give her for the plates? Do you think she’d like some nail varnish too?’
Nora shook her head.
‘From what I remember of Myryl she likes big things, she’s a lot more sociable than Jennet, she likes to talk…’
‘And talk and talk,’ interrupted Camelin. ‘She’s as bad as Timmery.’
‘Isn’t that good, at least she’ll tell us what she knows, won’t she?’ asked Jack.
‘It would be, if she could keep her mind on one thing at a time, but she sort of flits from one thing to another. She gets back to the reason you’ve called eventually, but it can take a long time.’
‘At least she doesn’t mind visitors,’ continued Nora.
‘I said she was like Timmery,’ Camelin grumbled to himself.
‘So what am I going to give her?’
‘It will take a bit of thought, but I’m sure we’ll come up with something.’
‘If Myryl is an expert on cauldrons we’ll need to offer her something similar,’ said Elan, thinking aloud.
‘How about one of those Hallowe’en buckets you can buy? The ones you take round for trick-or-treating to put all your sweets in,’ suggested Jack. ‘We could spray it silver.’
Camelin’s head shot up and he hopped over to Jack.
‘People give you sweets in a bucket? Have you got one of those buckets? When can we go? We can’t give it to Myryl if it’s for sweets!’
‘We certainly can’t,’ replied Nora. ‘I know the ones you mean Jack. They’re the right shape but the wrong material. They’re usually black plastic. We need something shiny and metallic. I think the paint would wear off quite quickly under water.’
‘A saucepan then, a big one with two handles like they have in the kitchen at school,’ continued Jack.
‘That’s a possibility,’ replied Nora. ‘But I still don’t think it would be big enough.’
‘How big are those buckets?’ Camelin asked Jack, ‘The ones you collect the sweets in?’
Jack made a shape with his hands.
‘About the same size as a football.’
‘That’s not very big, couldn’t we use a dustbin? We’d get a lot more sweets in one of them.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ exclaimed Nora.
Camelin’s beak fell open.
‘Do you mean it? You’re going to get a dustbin?’
‘A dustbin would be perfect,’ agreed Elan. ‘But not one of those new plastic ones, we need an old-fashioned ribbed galvanised bin.’
Jack could see what an amazing exchange a bright new shiny galvanised dustbin would be.
Camelin looked excited. He was hopping from one foot to the other.
‘When can we go and get the sweets?’
‘What sweets?’ they all asked.
‘The ones to go in my dustbin!’
‘The dustbin’s for Myryl; haven’t you been listening?’ Nora asked. ‘I’ll go down into the village first thing in the morning and buy one. Then I’ll call in and see your grandad and tell him we’re off on an outing and you’re invited to come along. We’ll pick you up straight after school and make our way over to see Myryl.’
‘Is it far?’ asked Jack.
Elan got Nora’s map down from the dresser and spread it out on the table.
‘She lives somewhere around here, in a spring above one of the lakes near the Welsh border. There used to be lots of lakes in that area. People built forts there on the mounds, but that was a long time ago. There’s not much water left now.’
Jack looked over at Camelin. He’d not been looking at the map.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
Nora laughed.
‘He’ll be fine, once he gets over the loss of a dustbin full of sweets he never had!’
From his bedroom window Jack watched the sky darken. A storm was rumbling in the distance. He’d expected Grandad to ask him about his weekend but instead he’d told Jack all about the gardening club and what he was going to enter in this year’s competition. Jack was relieved he hadn’t had to say anything about what he’d done. He couldn’t tell Grandad the truth, he couldn’t tell anyone. They’d think he was crazy, especially if he said he’d g
one back in time to Roman Britain.
By bedtime rain was lashing at the windows. Jack wished Camelin was there to talk to, he missed his company, but it was unlikely he’d leave his dry loft on a night like this. A loud clap of thunder rumbled overhead. Orin climbed up onto the windowsill to watch the storm with Jack. She jumped each time lightning flashed across the sky and shook as the thunder exploded. The rain made a deafening noise as it beat against the window.
‘Don’t worry, it can’t hurt you,’ he told her as he held his arm out so she could climb up to sit on his shoulder. ‘I hope it’s a better day tomorrow when we go to see Myryl.’
Jack was just about to get into bed when his Book of Shadows vibrated.
Elan must have sent him a message. He opened it at the first page and watched as the message appeared. When he saw what it said he smiled. It wasn’t from Elan.
I hav my own buk to writ in
we can writ tonit so I wont get wet
Jack laughed. Camelin might have learnt to read but he needed a lot of practice with his spelling. He wrote back:
I’ll see you in the morning.
He didn’t have to wait long for an answer:
how many swets do u think I cud get in a dustbin
Jack laughed and replied:
It would depend on the size of the bin.
There were no more messages. Jack lay in bed but couldn’t sleep. He wondered if Camelin was dreaming about dustbins overflowing with sweets. He’d thought it would be easy to retrieve the plates once they’d come back through the window in time. Tonight they should have been celebrating and making plans to go into Annwn. Jack couldn’t help worrying. How was he going to get through a whole day at school? He wondered what would happen when they found Myryl. She had to have the plates. Didn’t she?
MYRYL
‘Over here Jack,’ Elan shouted as she waved from the end of the road.
Jack made his way as quickly as he could towards her through the other children and parents congregated outside the school gates.
‘That was a long day. I thought it was never going to end. Have you got everything we need?’
‘We’re ready to go. Nora’s parked just around the corner.’
Jack got into the back of the car and looked over the seat. A large shiny dustbin had been laid on its side. A long, cloth-wrapped object was beside it. Jack presumed it was one of the cauldron plates.
The Jack Brenin Collection Page 24
