Second Night

by Gabriel J Klein

  ‘Me too,’ agreed Tristan.

  ‘But shouldn’t we cancel our holiday?’ asked Sara.

  ‘We’ll be away for three weeks and you’re going to need us,’ added Jasper.

  ‘There’s nothing that won’t wait until you get back,’ said Alan.

  ‘And I’m good in the kitchen,’ said Jemima.

  Charles looked around the table. ‘I think it is generally agreed that you keep to your plans if alternative arrangements can be made.’

  ‘What about me?’ put in Melanie. ‘I can cook and clean.’

  ‘And I can use you,’ said Daisy, who had thoroughly approved of Melanie ever since they had first been introduced. ‘Another pair of hands never goes amiss and, between young Jemima and me, we can get you trained up and handy in no time.’

  ‘Which will leave Maddie free to hold the fort in the office and Sara ready to assist me as soon as she returns,’ said Charles. ‘You should all know that the management of the estate, the horse-breeding programme and the academic research foundation was set up by Sir Saxon Pring in such a way to ensure that it may continue to operate unhindered while the interest remains, not withstanding the incapacity of any future heirs. We owe it to his grandson, Sir Jonas Pring, who has laboured all his life in this work, to continue as he would wish us to go on.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ said John.

  Jemima’s sharp ears caught on to the words ‘while the interest remains.’ And what happens if it doesn’t, she wondered.

  The grandfather clock chimed the end of the first hour of the afternoon, reminding Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury that the taxi was due to collect him in twenty-five minutes. ‘I know Sir Jonas would want me to thank you all on his behalf for everything you have done and, I am assured, will continue to do for the manor and the estate. It is very much appreciated.’ He stood up. ‘If Daisy and John, and Alan and Caz could join me in the study, I would be grateful.’

  ‘We’ve missed our best debut,’ muttered Jasper gloomily. ‘This could put my musical career on the back-burner for years.’

  ‘But don’t you think it’s weird that Freyja’s asleep and Sir Jonas is suddenly massively ill, all on the same day as Bryn died two years ago?’ whispered Jemima.

  ‘It can’t be a coincidence,’ said Sara, shaking her head.

  Jasper agreed. ‘No, it can’t be. Don’t forget to keep up the diary, Sib. We don’t want to miss out on anything while we’re away.’

  While the girls were occupied in the kitchen and the boys were in the ballroom dismantling the stage, Maddie slipped into the privacy of the office and closed the door.

  Bryony and Fig Petter were busy in the church, dusting the figures in the Nativity, when they heard Reverend Adrian taking a call in the vestry. His delight was obvious. ‘Maddie!’

  The ladies stepped tactfully out of earshot, but Fig was rather deaf and what was diplomatically dulled to her hearing remained crystal clear in Bryony’s ears.

  ‘How wonderful!’ exclaimed the vicar. ‘Oh no! I’m terribly sorry to hear that! Of course I’d be delighted. I am delighted! I’ll pick you up at five-thirty sharp in front of the gates. That will be wonderful. Perhaps we could grab a bite to eat afterwards? Yes? Look forward to that. Bye.’

  Bryony arranged the babe in the crib. It looks like Mum’s missed the boat again, she thought. So what’s new? Anyway, I couldn’t have coped with having a vicar for a stepfather. I’m not wearing dustbin rags for the rest of my life.

  ‘Have you heard the news from up the manor?’ whispered Fig. ‘They say the old man’s taken really bad. They say he could be on the way out this time. We’ll be putting another of the heathen under the church, you’ll see.’

  The archangel’s bright hair gleamed, caught in a beam of midwinter sunshine on the west window overlooking the altar. Bryony knew what he was thinking. She felt the same. We don’t want old Skinflint dead yet! She was sure she saw him nod.

  ‘We’ll get him on the prayer service for the sick,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ll come and help.’

  ‘Well now, there’s a duck!’ beamed Fig contentedly.

  CHAPTER 98

  As Guardian Executor, second only to Sir Jonas in Council, Charles Fordham-Marshall had taken the report of the intended betrayal of Caz and Kyri particularly badly.

  ‘This only confirms my long-held suspicion that the Masters have always pursued some extra, unrevealed agenda that we have yet to discover,’ he said resentfully. ‘We have all been betrayed.’

  Daisy was white-lipped, her eyes still stinging from the bitter tears she had shed when she heard the news. ‘At least they’re all home and safe. That we can be thankful for.’

  John nodded his agreement, his head bowed. He was deeply troubled.

  Charles turned to Caz, his hand on his heart. ‘Please understand that there was no malicious intention on the part of any of us here. There was no plan of betrayal and we are truly grateful for your courage and your safe and successful return.’

  Caz put an arm around Daisy whose shoulders had begun to shake again.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said briefly.

  Charles smiled. ‘Alan tells me he will be engraving the penultimate stone in the white circle in the Council Chamber.’

  ‘He will.’

  ‘Fortunately the Master was well enough to know of it before he was taken to his bed,’ said Alan.

  ‘The account for the care of the horses and the breeding programme will be transferred to the new Guardian Horsemaster by the end of the afternoon,’ said Charles. ‘I will need copies of your signature for the bank before I leave, Caz.’

  ‘The exchange of title will be noted in the records,’ said John.

  ‘So if we’re questioned, how do we explain the state the Master’s in?’ asked Alan. ‘The nurses are bound to wonder.’

  ‘That has already been taken care of,’ replied Charles. ‘We are employing an agency whose staff are very well paid to provide a high-level and discreet service for those who can afford it. Beyond their brief they ask no questions and will not discuss their client except with his appointed doctor. In this case they understand that, having spent his life researching the old Norse pantheon, Sir Jonas was in the act of embarking upon some obscure and private ritual when he was discovered by you, Alan, and rescued before the venture ended in tragedy.’

  ‘And that’s not so far off the truth,’ murmured John.

  ‘But more of the truth we must seek, and urgently,’ said Charles. ‘It is not certain that the Master will return to his former state of lucidity. Therefore the Guardians must undertake to search out any documentation that may cast light on the nature of his behaviour at World Tree. His choice of successor remains equally in doubt.’

  ‘Where do you want us to start?’ asked Alan.

  ‘Anywhere, and everywhere. Leave no loose flagstone unturned, no panel untapped. Take down every book in the library and examine all the panelling behind the shelves. Pay particular attention to the vault complex and be equally meticulous here in the study.’

  ‘I’ll do what has to be done in here,’ volunteered Caz.

  Charles nodded. ‘Can I leave it to you to search the observatory as well? Do you know where the keys are?’

  ‘I’ll find them.’

  ‘The hiding place will most probably have been constructed under the auspices of Sir Saxon and Lady Christina. Remember that, and do your best to think as they would have thought as you search. I will do the same in London.’

  The front door bell rang. Charles looked at his watch. ‘That will be the taxi, or the nurses, or both. I must take your leave, Guardians, there is much to be done.’ The black eyes twinkled for the first time that day as he turned to Caz. ‘The Winter Solstice has passed and Guardians Year 149 is already begun. The second of the Runes of the Deathless is won and we have entered a period of great change that can ultimately only be for the better. The wellbeing of the horses is left in your most capable hands, Caz, and two tutors have been engaged to
liaise with you here during the second week in January. I hope they will enable you to complete your education to a satisfactory level without the need to return to a conventional seat of learning.’

  ‘Now that’s what I needed to hear!’ exclaimed Alan.

  Caz smiled. Thank you, Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury, and may both continue to prosper in your own most capable hands. I will gladly search this place from top to bottom and entirely for my own reasons. I have already found at least one treasure. I know there will be more.

  At that moment he sensed Freyja stirring and knew she had opened her eyes. He held out his hand. Charles grasped it firmly.

  ‘You have proved yourself fearless and faithful, praiseworthy and true-souled in the most unimaginable circumstances,’ he said earnestly. ‘I am honoured to name you Brother.’

  CHAPTER 99

  Freyja left her hay when Caz came to her box. She put her forehead to his.

  ‘Yes, you’re mine now,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll always be there for you and no one will ever ride you again, except me.’

  Jemima came down the passage, carrying Nanna’s tack. Her backpack was stuffed full and the look on her face made it clear that whatever she was about to do was not open to negotiation.

  Nevertheless, Guardian Horsemaster needed to know where she was taking one of his charges on this snowbound winter afternoon. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going to Thunderslea to do a ritual for Sir Jonas to make him better,’ she said defiantly. ‘Daisy said I could have the cloak. I know what I’m doing and I’ll take full responsibility for it.’

  ‘The snow’s pretty deep. Nanna’ll be up to her hocks on some of the tracks.’

  ‘So? I can ride in snow the same as anyone else. We’ll just go round the deep bits. I must get there.’

  Caz hid a smile. She looked so determined.

  ‘Then you had better go,’ he agreed.

  She saw he was wearing his riding boots, the old ones that pinched and would be replaced. Everything he had worn to World Tree was laid out in the archive room where John would prepare the torn clothing and battered mail coat for permanent exhibition.

  ‘Are you going to watch out for us in the forest?’ she asked, hoping very much that he would.

  ‘Yes. Kyri needs a run.’

  She pointed to the spear, wrapped in the spare cloak and stood up against the partition. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Target practice.’

  Her eyes went to the jewelled hilt of the blade in the scabbard at his waist. ‘Isn’t that Lady Christina’s knife?’

  ‘No. Al made it for me.’

  ‘But I’ve got a photograph of her and Sir Saxon, and they’ve both got those knives.’

  Caz put the spear over his shoulder. He couldn’t be bothered to argue. ‘Then Al must have seen the same picture. Saddle up. We’ll go with you as far as Thunderslea.’

  They rode out of the yard and around the back of the barn, following the same route as the hound had taken into the orchard the night before. It seemed like a lifetime ago to Caz. I’m missing those old spooks already, he thought dismally. My sacrifice is one of the chosen and feasting in Valhall, and I’m stuck back here.

  Nanna kept close behind Kyri, striding out to match her steps through the snow. Caz craved the peace and silence of the forest, but Jemima needed to talk.

  ‘Sir Jonas is not going to die,’ she said fiercely. ‘I won’t let him. He’s going to get better, just like he did when he lost his eye. We’ll all look after him and everything will be just the same as before.’

  ‘He’ll die one day.’

  ‘But not yet, not for ages. We need him.’ The memory of the suddenness of their mother’s decision to leave Plymouth and Cornwall was still painful to Jemima. ‘I don’t want to have to go away again and leave everything like last time. I’ll never be able to say goodbye to the horses. I just can’t.’

  ‘You won’t have to. Remember what Charles said at lunch. The manor will go on.’

  ‘I don’t trust that man. Sara likes him and so does Ma, but I don’t. He’s too smooth. He kept looking at you and me like he was weighing us up.’

  Caz laughed outright. ‘That’s what I thought too, when I first met him. He’s not so bad when you get to know him.’

  ‘I don’t want to get to know him. He’s creepy.’

  ‘Don’t worry. The old man won’t die yet. You’ll do a good ritual and everything will be okay.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘I promise. We won’t have to leave the horses, and don’t forget, this time break the ice and use the spring water for the ritual. No more blood. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  The broad track beyond the gate bore due north before it veered away west around the copses. Caz pressed forward, eager to find any sign of the wild ride through the storm. We burned whole trees. I can’t believe nothing has changed.

  ‘Why won’t they let us see Sir Jonas?’ asked Jemima. ‘After all, we’re his family and I still could talk to him even if he is asleep. It’s good for unconscious people to have someone talking to them. It helps bring them round.’

  I should have left her to ride on her own, Caz thought wearily. ‘Just give them a couple of days to get him sorted out.’

  ‘Have you talked to him?’

  ‘No,’ he said flatly.

  Jemima picked up on the change in tone. ‘Don’t you care at all about Sir Jonas any more?’

  ‘Not much.’

  Jemima was shocked. ‘Even when he’s massively not well?’

  ‘You reap what you sow.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘He’s reaping.’

  The track turned westward. Immediately in front of them, a clear, lightly covered path continued north into the shrouded forest. Jemima frowned, looking around and trying to get her bearings. ‘I’m sure I don’t remember seeing this path before. Where does it come out?’

  ‘It goes direct to Thunderslea. It’s called the Hound Trail.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because a hound goes direct when it can.’ Caz smiled. ‘This one does.’

  All traces of the spear-burned boughs and shattered undergrowth had vanished under the snow, but the forest was stirring, already shaking off its short-lived, winter winding sheet. The first signs of the thaw were underway… the sound of running water under the snow… the occasional crash of a heavily laden bough in a copse… mini-avalanches dropping without warning along the path.

  Jemima brushed the flakes off her jacket and reached up to scoop them out of the folds of her scarf before they melted and ran down her neck. She studied the tall, silent figure in front of her sat easily astride his mare – a dark figure on a pale horse in a white and black world.

  He is different, she thought. He’s changed again. The problem is, I don’t know if I like this one as much as the one I knew yesterday.

  He didn’t encourage her to ride alongside when they came to the Beech Walk. Soon Alan must persuade bending tree and twisted foliage to disguise where the Hound Trail left the Walk and plunged without pretence straight into the heart of the woodland. She broke the silence at the bridge between the giant holly hedges.

  ‘You could come back for me later if you want. I’ll only be about half an hour.’

  ‘You’ll be okay. Let Nanna bring you home. She’ll find the way.’

  He waited until they had disappeared into the labyrinth before he unwrapped the spear and swung the cloak around his shoulders, and rode Kyri thundering towards the hills.

  A late sprinkling of snow had returned Thunderslea to the pristine white of the afternoon before. The crow settled among the upper branches of the great oak. A bright eye followed the ritual at the fire. The sky was crimson when Jemima poured the last drops of mead over the charred wood. A red sunray raced over the clearing, dipping radiant fingers into the spring and firing up the countless crystals caught glittering on the great balls of mistletoe clinging into the
gnarled bark of the old tree. She pushed back the starry hood and clapped her hands, gazing up into the sparkling branches.

  ‘Look Nanna!’ she cried triumphantly. ‘The tree’s covered in lights! The Goddess has heard me. Everything will be okay now.’

  The setting sun blooded the snowy landscape. The first gripping pangs of hunger had begun, but Caz knew there was food and shelter on the Path to the Mead Hall, and fire and rest at the Halfway House set aside and secret from the troubles of the Shadowed World. He held up the spear. The first tiny pinpoint of the light of a rich yellow star flickered into view as it rose over the woodlands to the north and east. Kyri reared. Under the expanse of the fiery sky, they were a remote figure, a horse and rider raised up on the stony plateau where the four winds meet under the wide heavens on the hills.

  ‘Seee…gr!’ he shouted.

  Sigr, sigr, sigr, whispered the hills, ice-burned under blazing snow.

  Sing our names in the Hall, my brothers. We’ll be back.

  Appendix

  Permission to reproduce the following documents has been generously

  granted by the Trustees of The Northern Pantheon Foundation for

  Academic Research

  Principal and Trustee: Sir Jonas Pring

  Treasurer and Trustee: Charles Fordham-Marshall, Esq.

  The Wylde Family Tree is reproduced courtesy of Caspar Wylde, Esq.

  The Oath of Allegiance

  As this blade brings forth my blood,

  So do I swear and dedicate my life,

  To guard and defend that which the High One,

  All-Father, All-Seeing, All-Knowing, Mightiest of Æsir,

  Has declared sacred unto Himself;

  May I be fearless and faithful,

  Praiseworthy and true-souled,

  That the Runes of the Deathless

  Shall be carved upon the heavens,

  On the day foretold of the sun devoured,

  The moon swallowed up,

  The stars fallen from the sky;

  So shall the seed of life spring forth from the fire.

  May I see and be silent,

  May life fail me and death defeated claim me,