by Charles Todd
“He might as well be a member of my family. Sergeant-Major Simon Brandon, late of my father’s old regiment, and once his batman.” I smiled. “I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. He was sent out to India with new recruits for the regiment, and it appeared he was either going to be shot for insubordination or court-martialed for not following orders. Headstrong and willful to a fault. He’d also lied about his age, which didn’t help matters, but my father couldn’t send him back to England. And so he took Simon in hand, and in the end made a soldier of him.”
“He was in the war?”
“In a roundabout way. Both he and the Colonel Sahib served at the pleasure of the War Office. My mother and I never knew just what it was they were doing.”
“Interesting.” He started toward the kitchen, and I followed. Rachel was working on the loom, we could hear the thump-thump as it moved.
“Hugh. Why would Ellen Marshall be tearing panels off the wall of her grandfather’s cottage? Surely she doesn’t think her grandfather hid most of the money there? Or even if he did, once, it probably isn’t there now.”
“God knows. What I don’t understand is why she should be so desperate for money. There’s the motorcar—the way she still dresses. It can’t be all for show?”
But in a town like Cardiff there must be a difference between having money and having enough money.
I let it go.
Late the next afternoon, Rachel brought in one of the older ewes, worried about her, and penned her in the shed.
“She’s carrying twins, and at her age, she might be in trouble. I’ll look in on her before I go to bed.”
But when she went out to the shed, the ewe had kicked a hole in the partition and got loose.
Rachel came back to the house for a lantern and told us what had happened. “She’s a canny beast, she should be all right, but I’d hate to lose her. I’ll just have a look around and see if I can find her.”
Hugh took a lantern down from the shelf above the pantry door and lit it for her. “Shall I come out with you?”
“No, I think I’ll take one of the dogs. He can sniff her out, and she knows me.”
She found a scarf and buttoned up her coat, then took the lantern and went out the kitchen door, calling to the older dog.
Hugh stood on the threshold, watching the bobbing lantern as Rachel made her way out to the fields, then closed the door.
She was gone quite a long time, and we were both beginning to worry. Finally Hugh reached for a second lantern and said, “I think I ought to have a look. She could have run into some trouble with the ewe.”
He left, and I waited there in the kitchen, standing by the windows. It was nearly a quarter of an hour later when I heard Hugh shouting my name. I went to the door and heard him call, “Fetch your coat. Rachel needs you.”
I didn’t know what had happened—my first thought was that Rachel might have taken a fall clambering over the walls. My second was that if the ewe had had her lambs, Hugh would be hard-pressed to carry one back to the shed.
I flew up the stairs, caught up my coat and woolen hat, and reached for the last lantern. The wick refused to light. I could see Hugh’s out in the field, and so I headed for that, stumbling and tripping over unseen obstacles in the dark. When I caught him up, he said, “This way,” and led me farther into the field.
There we found Rachel playing midwife to the ewe. There was one lamb lying by her side, and the ewe was struggling to bring the second lamb into the world.
Rachel said, “Bess—thank goodness. Will you carry this one back to the shed? And rub it down with some straw? I’ll stay with the mother.”
“Yes, of course.” I bent down to pick up the lamb, all legs and bleating for its mother. She turned to nuzzle it, then ignored it as she struggled with its twin.
I got a good grip on the lamb and set off back to the shed, taking my time and making certain to keep my feet. Hugh lit my way until I was on even ground, then went back to stand by Rachel. I knew she was fearful of losing the mother, and I was glad he was with her.
I got my burden to the shed, although it kept struggling to free itself, and put it into the pen its mother had left. Finding some straw, I rubbed it down against the cold, talking to it as I worked, trying to keep it quiet. But it bleated and stumbled around the pen, looking for the ewe. When I’d finished, I blocked it in as best I could, using whatever came to hand, and shut the door. Hugh was still with Rachel. I could just see the two lanterns as I rounded the shed and started toward them.
I’d taken half a dozen steps when something moved behind me. Before I could whirl and defend myself, a hand was clapped over my mouth and an arm circled my waist, lifting me off the ground.
I kicked out with both feet, connecting with a kneecap even as I tried to bite the hand across my mouth.
Whoever it was swore, and then said in a strained whisper, “Damn it, Bess—stop.”
I went still. And he put me down, drawing me back into the deeper shadows by the shed wall. On the other side of it I could hear the lamb moving unsteadily.
Simon bent to massage his knee, but before I could speak, he held up a hand, and I waited.
He was listening. All I could hear was the lamb, but Simon had acute hearing, and I said nothing until he nodded. Even then I kept my voice to a whisper.
“What is it?”
“There was someone who came around the house. He was watching the shed. I didn’t want him to see me. You had better walk on—to where the lanterns are. I’ll keep watch.”
“But—” I began.
“Go on. I’ve camped by one of the caves. If those people come back with you, I’ll find you later. Hurry.”
I turned and made my way to where Rachel was occupied with the ewe. She had had her other lamb and was busy cleaning it, but I could see she was tired. Rachel was kneeling by her, watching her breathing.
“She’s all right. I think. But I don’t want to move her just yet.”
Rachel’s dog was lying quietly in the grass not ten feet away. But its ears were pricked up, and it was staring toward the shed. She noticed that, and said, “He must hear the other lamb. Hugh, take him back to the house. I think I can manage on my own. If Bess can carry the other lamb?”
“Yes, of course.”
But Hugh was reluctant to leave us. “I think it’s best if I stay.”
Rachel looked up at him. “We’re all right out here.”
“It’s late,” he pointed out.
The ewe was struggling to her feet, and Rachel moved away to give her room. I knelt to lift the lamb, and the ewe would have none of it. In the end, it was Rachel who carried the lamb, and the ewe followed her, while we brought up the rear with the lanterns. The dog trotted by her side.
Where had Simon gone? I was afraid the dog would start barking as soon as he picked up Simon’s scent.
But when he did catch something on the wind, head lifted, nose quivering, he started toward the house, not the shed. He began to bark, and Rachel called him back, telling him to shush, it was late.
He paid no heed, forging ahead of us and rounding the corner of the house. The barking got stronger, and I sent up a silent prayer that he hadn’t cornered Simon.
Hugh, his crutches swinging, moved ahead of us to follow the dog, and Rachel called to it again.
She couldn’t go after them, not with the lamb in her arms and the ewe prancing impatiently at her side. I moved ahead too, lifting the lantern high to light her way and then pulling open the shed door.
The ewe, responding to the noisy firstborn lamb, trotted forward, and I had just barely got the way to the pen clear for her, holding back the lamb, before she charged into the pen, sniffing it and washing it. By the time Rachel arrived with a squirming bundle and put the second lamb down, the first was already nursing. Bleating, the younger one joined its brother or sister. We hastily re-erected my barricade to hold them in the pen, then went out and shut the door.
Rachel smiled a
t me in the light from the two lanterns. “I’m glad she’s all right. I’ve grown fond of her over the years.”
“You were right to go after her.” But my mind was on the dog. It had stopped barking, and I could hear raised voices on the far side of the house.
“Who is Hugh talking to?” Rachel asked, hearing them as well.
She started in that direction, and I followed. When we rounded the corner of the house, I saw that Hugh was talking to the rector. I did my best to disguise my relief.
Mr. Wilson nodded to us. “I saw the lanterns. I thought there might be something I could do to help. But Captain Williams assures me that the ewe and her lambs are safe.”
“Yes. With the help of Bess.” Rachel hesitated. “Can I offer you a cup of tea, Rector? Against the cold?”
“Thank you, but no. I was just coming back from one of the cottages. They have a child that’s ill.”
“Not Jenny?” I put in quickly.
“No, it’s the Simpson lad. Croup.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“He’s better, I think. And able to sleep. Well, then, I shall bid you a good night.” Tipping his hat, he turned and walked on toward the road.
“What did he want?” Rachel was asking Hugh in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” Hugh answered. “It was rather odd to find him lurking here at the side of the house.”
“Maybe he thought I’d gone missing,” I said, “and you were searching for me. Not the ewe.”
Hugh shook his head. “God knows.” He turned, and we started back toward the kitchen door. I was busy trying to think of some reason to go back to the shed on my own and look for Simon. But I might easily draw the dog to him.
He’d said he was camping . . .
Why hadn’t he come to the door and asked for me?
Late as it was, Rachel put the kettle on, and I couldn’t very well excuse myself. And so I sat with them and drank my tea as we talked about the lambs and the ewe. When at last we went up to bed, I lit my lamp and then hurried to my window to look out. There was only darkness, pitch-black as far as I could see toward the end of the peninsula. The shed was out of my line of sight.
Simon had no way of knowing which room was mine. But if he was watching any of the windows, he would recognize the distinctive cap worn by a Sister. And so I moved the little table by my bed so that it faced the window, and I stood in front of it so that I was only a silhouette, apparently looking through my kit.
After a bit, I blew out the lamp and then went back to the window.
A few minutes later I saw it.
At first I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it, staring into the darkness, wishing for a sign.
But yes, I was right. There was a dim light showing from the direction of the coast guard station—well behind it on the landward side, blocking it from the houses across the road. Or even from Mr. Griffith’s cottage, where he watched the world pass by his own windows.
The light was steady for a bit, and then it began to blink in a pattern. Suddenly I recognized it. A code that my father had used on some of his night raids into hostile territory. And a code that couldn’t be broken because he had devised it from words only English officers and men would know, then given them new meanings, although they sounded like gibberish when strung together in Morse code. It had worked quite well.
Simon had taught it to me one afternoon, after we’d had an attack on the compound.
As I waited, the sequence was repeated.
Croquet. I am in position. Refectory. To the left. Lychgate. Of this place.
Starlight. Just after sunrise. Monastery. Are you free to move about? Barbican. Or under duress?
What on earth had Simon discovered, that made him ask such questions?
I considered how to answer him. Lighting my lamp again, I moved back and forth across from it to form the M of Monastery.
After a moment, a single word came back.
Thunder. Will be waiting.
I blew out my lamp, and went to bed.
I didn’t know quite how Simon had found me, but I was glad of it. Now I had to find a way to leave that wouldn’t put Rachel and Hugh in danger for letting me go.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. My toes touched the hot water bottle, and I settled myself to sleep.
It was raining in the morning, a warm drizzle that promised spring. Rachel was up early, looking in on the ewe, making certain she had enough milk for both lambs. I dealt with breakfast, and afterward, she began to sow her seeds in tidy rows in her gardens, mostly the cold-weather vegetables that needed the last touch of winter to germinate. I asked if I could help, but she shook her head. “I know how everything goes in. But thank you for asking.”
It was closer to ten than dawn when I finally set out, a borrowed umbrella in my hand, first for the overlook, where I stood for several minutes watching the waves come in. Everyone else had attended services at the church.
And then I strolled down to the coast guard station, peering in the windows and then making my way around the facility to the back. There was a terraced place toward the lower end where I thought the occupants had stood and smoked when off duty, invisible from the sea.
There was no one waiting for me there.
I felt a surge of disappointment.
Just then one of the station doors opened a little, and Simon called quietly, “This way, Bess.”
And I stepped into the dry, musty interior, in what appeared to be the kitchen, although everything useful had been taken away. Where the cooker had been there was a large pan lying upside down, with a hole in the bottom, and on the windowsill, a pitcher without a handle. In a corner were what appeared to be mice tracks through something that had spilled.
“I am very happy to see you,” I said, greeting Simon with a smile. “I don’t know how you found me, but I’m relieved that you’re here.”
“What the devil have you got yourself into, Bess?” he demanded.
Chapter 14
There was exasperation in his voice, as well as curiosity.
I shook my head. “It will probably be easier if you tell me first how you found me. Then I can fill in the rest of the story.”
From his expression, I expected him to begin with a lecture on disappearing. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if putting that aside for a later conversation.
“When Matron sent word to Somerset, worried that you hadn’t returned from your leave and asking if you were ill, your mother was able to reach me in London. She thought you might have gone to Mrs. Hennessey’s to visit one of your flatmates. But when I went to the house and spoke to her, it was clear she hadn’t seen or heard from you except for that first night you’d spent at the flat. Nor were Diana or Mary in London, and Lady Elspeth was in Scotland. Mrs. Hennessey thought it unlikely that you’d traveled there. I didn’t want to alarm your mother, and so I went on my own to the clinic. I avoided Matron and instead talked to the orderlies. One of them told me that you’ve been concerned about some of the men who’d been released to return to their homes in Wales.”
Simon moved across the room and back again. “He wasn’t certain where they’d come from, but he thought it was one of the coal valleys. I drove to Cardiff, and after some trouble found the hire firm where you’d taken a motorcar up to the valley. Fortunately, the driver remembered you and told me about the slide and how disappointed you were to have missed one of the patients you’d come to see. Still, he couldn’t recall where you’d gone next. Swansea, he thought. But he knew the name of the hotel where he’d dropped you after you got back to Cardiff. There I found a chambermaid who remembered you, and she told me you’d gone by train to Swansea.”
“Yes, I’d asked her to press my coat, and she stayed to chat.”
“It’s a good thing you make friends easily,” he said, and I realized then how worried he’d been.
“I sent a telegram to your mother from the station, knowing she’d be on her way to London at the first excuse.
I told her all was well, that you were with a patient, and all the while I hoped to God I was right. In Swansea, I found the second hire firm, and the owner brought in the driver who’d taken you out here to the peninsula. He swore you’d told him you’d decided to stay and sent him away. I had a feeling he was lying, and so I followed him home. After a little persuasion he confessed that he’d been frightened out of his wits, and he’d fled to Swansea, abandoning you.”
“I can’t think what it could have been,” I said. “Mr. Griffith is a bit strange, but he was well paid for taking in Mr. Morgan. Why should he scare him away in the middle of the night?”
“Morgan told me something had come at him out of the darkness, terrifying him so much that he barely fought it off. He claimed he had the scars to show for it. I saw them, Bess, his shoulder had been raked with what looked like claws.”
He was leaning back against one of the doorframes watching me.
“Yes, well, I think he made all that up. He fled in the middle of the night, that much is true, without even stopping to knock on Rachel’s door to see if I wanted to leave with him. I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Griffith to tell him tales of Viking raiders and a giant dragon that lay in wait for them. They don’t much care for strangers out here. Or Mr. Morgan had a nightmare and frightened himself, then was too ashamed of abandoning me to admit to it. After all, the Welsh themselves have a number of tales about dragons.”
“He believed it. I watched his face.”
“The problem was, after he’d gone, there was no way to leave here. The only horses are draft animals, no one has a motorcar, and even the post is delivered sporadically. Then a few days ago, Ellen Marshall, as she’s known locally, arrived.” I told him about Ellen and the attack on Oliver. “But when she was ready to go back to Swansea, on her way to Cardiff, the local people wouldn’t let her take me with her. They were afraid I’d talk.”
“About what? What have you got yourself into?”
“I’m not sure.” I told him about the treasure ship and the silver that sometimes washed ashore after a storm.
Frowning, he said, “The silver would have been in chests. They’d have sunk into the seabed from their own weight, when the ship broke apart. Storms might break them open, or dredge up the silver that spilled out as the chests rotted.”
