“I admit, the story about the fairies was untrue,” Zelda replied. “But everything else is the truth.”
For a moment Margaret looked very disappointed, as if she’d really hoped to one day maybe meet a fairy in Zelda’s garden. But she quickly got over it.
She continued under her breath: “Two of the guards swear they’ve seen Ela of Salisbury’s ghost in the cloisters!”
Ella and I exchanged a quick look, but Zelda seemed not at all surprised.
“Yes, I heard something like that too,” she said.
“What? Why didn’t you tell us anything about this?” I asked breathlessly.
“Because it’s nothing but a myth, Jon Whitcroft,” Zelda replied. “Do you have any idea how easily people believe they’re seeing ghosts? Dozens have been sighted in this abbey alone, including Henry the Eighth and three of his wives, two of them, of course, carrying their own heads under their arms.”
“But maybe…” I mumbled, “maybe Ella is waiting for William!”
“Waiting?” Margaret again stared at the plastic bag with the urn. “Heavens!”
Zelda looked at her crossly.
“Maybe,” she said. “And maybe not. And maybe those guards just saw the ghost of some poor nun who died of the plague. A lot of women died in this abbey, not just Ela of Salisbury.”
“But Longspee—” I began.
Ella quickly put her hand on my arm.
“Let’s just find her grave, Jon,” she said. And of course she was right—again.
But it was just as Margaret had said: Ela Longspee didn’t have a grave. There was only a stone with her name on it in the cloisters. Ella and I stared, perplexed, at the stone-tiled floor surrounding it.
“Well!” Zelda said with a frown. “Probably can’t do it right by the stone. However,” she said with a glance at the lawn in the center of the cloisters, “Longspee might like it over there.”
Margaret looked at her in alarm.
“Don’t worry!” Zelda whispered to her. “We’ll wait with the digging until the abbey is closed. What do you think? Where’s the best place to hide so the guards won’t spot us?”
The Littlejohns were obviously all partial to having themselves locked in at public places. Cathedrals, abbeys… I wondered where next.
Margaret, however, folded her enormous arms and shook her head. “Zelda!” she began, and quickly fell silent as a group of Russian tourists filed past us. As soon as the Russians had disappeared into one of the cubicles, she hissed at Zelda, “You’re still behaving as if you could get away with doing things ten-year-olds do. You must remember what happened when you talked me into getting locked in the chemistry lab. It was I who got into all the trouble. No!”
“If that’s the case,” Zelda answered with a smile as sweet as marzipan, “then Jon will have to tell the ghost of Longspee that you were unwilling to help us. Just don’t blame us if he comes for a visit one night. You’ve never met a ghost, have you? It can be… a little unsettling, and Longspee is not the most peaceful specimen—as Jon will confirm. But I’m sure you won’t suffer much harm.”
Margaret looked positively horrified.
“Well, you know,” I muttered, “he’s got a bit of a temper. And he has a sword.”
Margaret pressed her lips tightly together. “Fine, Zelda!” she finally whispered. “But I’m only helping you because I’ve always admired Ela of Salisbury. It’s just too terrible to think she might’ve been ghosting around here for all these centuries because someone gave her the wrong heart.”
Zelda rolled her eyes over so much sentimentality. Ella really did take after her grandmother. Luckily, Margaret didn’t see Zelda’s reaction. She led us to a chamber that was barely more than a dark hole. Not even the most inquisitive of tourists would ever come in there.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t take these youngsters with me, Zelda?” she asked before she left us. “I’d die of fear in here, even without any ghosts.”
“No, thanks!” Ella answered for Zelda. “Jon and I’ve been in much worse places at night.”
Margaret’s look clearly expressed her doubts about Zelda’s qualities as a grandmother. But Zelda just put her arm around Ella’s and my shoulders and gave Margaret her broadest smile.
“Ella’s right,” she said. “These two already know much more about ghosts than I ever will!”
That statement finally sent Margaret back behind her shop counter.
As the sun set, our hiding place really did get as dark as a grave. But Lacock Abbey was ours as we crept back into the cloisters with our flashlights. No tourists, no guides, not a living soul with the exception of a few mice and birds (and spiders, as Ella would now point out; Ella’s even more afraid of spiders than dogs).
We reached the gravestone, and Zelda said, “Great. Time to get to work. I think this is something the two of you should probably do alone.” She took a trowel from her pocket and handed it to me. Littlejohns obviously always carry trowels and flashlights. “I’ll take a walk in the gardens meanwhile. I bet the only ghosts here are nuns, and those are usually quite peaceful souls.”
With that, she hobbled off. Ella and I stepped over the low wall that separates the cloisters from the grassy courtyard. The rain had softened the ground, but it still took me quite a while until I’d dug a hole that was deep enough.
“Here it is, Ella Longspee!” Ella whispered as she placed the urn into the hole. “I’m very sorry you had to wait so long for the right heart.”
We did our best to replace the turf exactly as we’d found it. Then we scooped the leftover earth into the plastic bag and finally climbed back over the wall into the cloisters. The moon hung above the abbey like a silver coin. We were back among the pillars when Ella suddenly took my hand.
A woman was standing across the courtyard. The pillars on the other side of her were clearly visible through her body, as though they were part of her.
“Jon, that’s her!” Ella whispered. “You see? She waited. She knew she had the wrong heart!”
“How do you know that’s William’s Ella?” I whispered back. “You heard what Zelda said. It could be just some nun.”
By then I’d gotten so used to seeing ghosts that the white figure was no weirder than the pigeons snoozing on the roof of the abbey.
“Of course it’s her!” Ella hissed impatiently. “Call Longspee if you don’t believe me. Go on!”
Ella can be very convincing, but I still hesitated. I didn’t want Longspee to appear only to meet some strange woman, but when the woman started moving toward where we’d just buried the heart, I squeezed my fingers against the lion mark. Then Ella and I quickly hid behind one of the columns and waited.
William appeared exactly where we’d buried the urn. His figure projected itself into the night as though the moon had brought him along. The pale figure of the woman stopped. They both just stood there, pale shadows of the humans they’d once been. Neither had been young when they died. Ella was the ghost of an old woman, but when she and William looked at each other, they became young again, the moonlight washing the centuries off their faces.
Longspee reached out, and when Ella did the same, their hands melted together.
My heart beat wildly, as if it was Longspee’s heart again, and suddenly he looked around and peered toward where we were hiding behind a column.
Ella gave me a gentle shove, and I stumbled out into the moonlight. I’ll never forget the way Longspee looked at me.
He pressed his fist to where his heart had once beaten, and I did the same. I’m sure I looked like a total idiot, but I think we all do when we’re really happy. Except for Longspee. He just looked fabulous being happy.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but Ella grabbed my arm to pull me away. I looked around once more and saw William’s whole shape melt into that of the woman, and I didn’t know whether I felt like crying or laughing.
We found Zelda on a bench in front of the abbey. She looked around when she heard our step
s behind her.
“And?” she asked.
“All’s well!” Ella said, pouring out the soil I’d dug to make space for Longspee’s heart. “It was William’s Ella, so Jon called him.”
“Well, then we might as well call this a happy ending!” Zelda said. But when she saw how longingly I still stared at the abbey, she got to her feet and put her tiny bony hand on my shoulder. I think Zelda must have been a bird in a previous life, a very small bird.
“You don’t like this ending very much, do you, Jon?” she asked quietly.
I felt so stupid.
“Well, I… you know… what happens now?” I stammered. “I mean, will he…?”
“Go with her?” Zelda completed my question. “And, if the answer’s yes, where to? Who knows? I never understood why some ghosts just disappear and others stay. Maybe I’ll find out when I become a ghost myself—which, I hope, won’t happen!” She linked her arm with Ella’s. “I’d much prefer just being dead. And now I’ve got to go to bed. This foot is still killing me. I might have to chop it off after all!”
And that was it.
Ella and I didn’t speak a word on the drive back, but it felt good to have her sitting next to me.
FRIENDS
It was past ten when Zelda dropped me off at the Popplewells’.
“See you tomorrow,” Ella said, but I just managed a tired nod. Yes, I know, I should’ve been happy, but as I climbed out of the car and looked at the cathedral, knowing that I would no longer find Longspee there, my heart weighed heavier than a lump of lead.
Zelda had offered to let me stay at her house for the night, but I felt it was time to return to Angus and Stu, and Zelda had let the Popplewells know that I would be very late—again.
Alma looked quite grumpy when she opened the door.
“Jon!” she said, leading me up the stairs. “I simply cannot let things go on like this. I’m glad you’re such good friends with the Littlejohns and all, but you’re still a boarder, and—”
“It will not happen again, Mrs. Popplewell!” I interrupted her. “Definitely not.”
I crept into my room so quietly, I could barely even hear myself, but just as I pulled the duvet up to my chin, a beam of light shone straight at my face. Stu was looking down at me over the edge of his bunk.
“And?” he asked. “Where were you this time? Angus says Ella must’ve given you one of her grandmother’s love potions. But I bet him my entire sweets stash that there’s something else going on. You have a choice: You can tell us what’s going on, or Angus will tickle it out of you. You know he’s good at that, even though he sings like an innocent angel.”
“I what?” said Angus.
But he didn’t have to prove his interrogation skills. I told them everything. About Stourton, Longspee, his heart, the dead chorister, and Lacock. I’d had no idea how much I wanted to tell my friends everything until I finally did.
While I told my story, Stu switched his flashlight on and off like a lighthouse, and Angus muttered an endless stream of wows and incredibles. But they believed me.
“There you go, Angus,” Stu said as soon as I’d finished. “Love potion, my foot! Your stuffed bird is mine!”
“What?! Your bet was that Ella’s uncle is a contract killer!”
“And? He’s a ghost hunter. Same thing.”
“No,” I said. “He’s actually a dentist, Stu.”
“Oh, really? And why did he shave his beard, then?”
Stu was not so easily defeated and was quite clear that he still thought his theory about the contract killer was much more exciting than a gang of murderous ghosts. Angus, however, stayed silent for quite a while. Finally he climbed out of his bed and picked up his pants from the floor.
“Okay, then. Let’s go to the cathedral,” he said, pulling his sweater over his head. “Maybe he’s still there. I want to see him, even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever see.”
“Angus! Longspee’s gone!” I said.
But did I mention how stubborn Angus can be?
He wouldn’t be talked out of it, neither by me nor Stu, who himself was not at all happy at the thought of traipsing around the cathedral in the dead of night.
When we found the downstairs door locked and the key not in it (something must have made the Popplewells suspicious), Angus suggested we climb through a window down on the girls’ floor. Luckily, it wasn’t too high, but just as I was crouching on the ledge, Stu of course had to tell me that Edward Popplewell slept with a loaded shotgun next to his bed and that half a year earlier he’d shot a cat off the roof, thinking it was a burglar. Angus said it was all bull, but I was still glad to see the Popplewells’ window stay dark during our descent.
We got into the cathedral without any climbing. I had to swear a solemn oath to Angus never to tell how he got us inside, and I’ll keep that promise. Being a chorister, Angus had spent many evenings in the cathedral, but neither Stu nor he had ever been there when it was dark and completely deserted except by the dead. The silence between the old walls was so complete; it seemed to come from the stones themselves. All we heard was the sound of our footsteps. The beam from Stu’s flashlight etched a narrow path of light onto the flagstones. For a short moment I thought I could see the Gray Lady between the columns.
“It’s this one, right?” Angus whispered, stopping in front of Longspee’s sarcophagus.
I nodded. I was still sure Longspee was gone. Gone with Ella, to wherever one went after having spent centuries as a ghost. And for the thousandth time, I told myself that his leaving was okay, even though I already missed him so much that my heart felt quite sore.
“So, how do you call him?” Angus asked. Stu was looking at Longspee’s stone effigy the way a rabbit might stare down the barrel of Edward Popplewell’s shotgun.
“You call his name,” I said. “And you say you need his help.” I paused. “Please,” I heard myself again. “Please, William Longspee. Help me!” It seemed years ago I’d said those words.
Angus and Stu stared down at Longspee’s marble face—and didn’t utter a word.
Then Angus mumbled, “He looks like he takes his oath quite seriously. Maybe he’ll get mad if we call him and don’t really need his help.”
“Probably,” Stu whispered. “I think we’d better go back. Alma always does her rounds before midnight. What if she sees that we’re gone?”
She’ll blame me, I thought. Who else? Whitcroft, the night crawler.
Angus looked at the other graves. “We could try calling someone else.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Stu’s right. Let’s just go back.”
But Angus ignored me. “What about that one?” he asked, pointing at Cheney’s tomb. As I said, Angus is very stubborn once he gets something stuck in that Scottish skull of his. And he’d decided he wanted to see a ghost that night.
“Bonapart told us about Cheney,” Angus said. “He was the bodyguard of Edward the Something and the standard-bearer of Henry the Seventh.”
Stu looked at me in alarm.
I tried to distract Angus. “Henry the Seventh? Wasn’t he found dead in some bush?”
“No, that was Richard,” he said, walking toward Cheney’s sarcophagus. “They called Cheney the Giant,” he mumbled reverently.
“The Giant?” Stu breathed. “Why?”
“Doctors measured the bones of his skeleton,” Angus answered. “And they found he was at least six foot six. Quite tall for back then.”
And it still is if you’re Stu’s height. “I don’t think that sounds as if I want to meet him!” he said. He tried to pull Angus away from the sarcophagus. “Come on. If you have to call a ghost, let’s find someone our size. Didn’t Bonapart tell us about some child bishop who’s buried here?”
But Angus shook him off. “No!” he said. “I don’t want just any ghost. It’s got to be a knight.” He cleared his throat and put his hands on Cheney’s marble chest. “Ahem. Hello. I mean, please, Sir Cheney…�
��
“He’ll only come if you put some coins on his forehead,” a voice behind us said.
Angus and Stu turned as white as Cheney’s stone effigy. But I recognized that voice, and I felt dizzy with happiness.
Longspee was standing next to his tomb. He was glowing as brightly as if all the candles in the cathedral had lent him their light. I’d never seen him that clearly. And he looked happy. Just happy.
“You want them to see me, Jon. Am I right?” he asked. Angus’s and Stu’s mouths were as wide as the gargoyles’ outside.
“Yes, this is great!” I muttered. I’d been so sure I’d never see him again. My heart was drowning in happiness. “Longspee! Why are you still here?”
“You may not be the last to need my help,” he answered.
“But what about Ella?”
“Now that you brought her my heart, she can call me anytime.” Longspee turned to Angus and Stu. He smiled as they drew back from him. “If you’re already afraid of me, lads, maybe you really shouldn’t call Cheney,” he said. “He can be quite rough.”
Stu opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Angus, however, handled himself quite well, considering it was the first time he’d spoken to a ghost. “Well, I haven’t got any coins with me anyway,” he muttered.
“There is another way to call this knight,” Longspee said. “Are you sure?”
Stu quickly shook his head, but Angus nodded vehemently, and Longspee went to stand by Cheney’s tomb.
We all shrank back as he drew his sword. He stabbed it deep into Cheney’s marble chest. From the tomb came a curse that would have earned us all at least a dozen weeks of detention in the school library.
“Damned be you, Longspee! You devious scoundrel of a knight!” The words echoed through the cathedral. For a moment it looked as if Cheney’s marble effigy was rising. But it was just his ghost lifting himself out of the stone. He swung his legs from the stone pedestal and stalked stiffly toward Longspee. He towered over William by at least a head.
Ghost Knight Page 13
