by Alan Early
‘Just meeting up with Cousin Maggie,’ Ash said, indicating Maggie, who was striding up the street.
‘Oh, she’s your cousin?’
‘No,’ Arthur said with a wry, knowing smile. ‘But it’s a long story.’
‘Oh. OK. Well …’ Ellie looked from Arthur to Ash and back again, waiting. ‘Well …’ she said again.
‘Hurry up, you two!’ Cousin Maggie called, already halfway towards the milk shake bar. Then she noticed Ellie and Ex. ‘Bring your two friends along if you like!’
Ellie turned back to Arthur and Ash. ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to intrude.’
Ash was about to say, ‘Then don’t,’ before Arthur cut her off.
‘You wouldn’t be intruding at all.’
With that, Ellie skipped off in the direction of Cousin Maggie and Max. Ex plodded along behind her. Arthur and Ash trailed after them in silence, Ash glaring at Arthur in quiet irritation the whole way to the milk shake bar.
‘Ow!’ cried Ellie, rubbing her temple furiously. ‘Brain freeze!’
‘Don’t drink it so quickly,’ Cousin Maggie advised, sipping at her own shake more slowly.
The milk shake bar was designed like an American diner from the 1950s, with black and white chequerboard tiles, a chrome countertop running the length of the kitchen area and comfortable booths with seats covered in bright red vinyl. Rock ’n’ roll music boomed from a jukebox in the corner and the waiters wore costumes from the period.
They were all squeezed into one of the booths, with Max opting for a tall swivel stool at the end of the table. He swung in small arcs on the seat as he drank his milk shake.
‘So, how do you all know each other?’ Maggie asked.
‘We go to school together,’ Ellie piped up before anyone else could answer. ‘We just started there – Ex and I. That’s Xander, my brother.’ Ex nodded his head at Cousin Maggie as he was name-checked.
‘Do you like it there?’
‘It’s all right. It’s a bit lonely, though. We don’t really know anyone yet.’ She bit the end of her straw and sipped, looking sideways at Arthur. He didn’t know what had prompted the look, but thought he could read some sadness in her eyes. Suddenly her expression changed and she beamed up at Maggie. ‘But the farm must be quite lonely sometimes too, right? Although I guess it’s good for painting.’
‘It can b–’
‘Hold on!’ Ash cut Cousin Maggie off. ‘How did you know she’s an artist who lives on a farm?’
‘Oh …’ Ellie blushed. ‘It’s that silly habit I have. Sorry.’
‘How did you know?’ Ash pushed once more.
‘Well, I knew she was an artist because I saw the spots of paint under the fingernails. Oil paint is notoriously difficult to clean off. I knew she lived in the country because I noticed the smudges of dirt around the hems of her trousers. We’ve had dry weather for a few weeks now in Dublin, so the dirt must have come from the countryside. When I saw the long white animal hair stuck to the back of Cousin Maggie’s coat, I realised that she must live with or near animals. So I put it all together.’ She blushed once more, looking up at Maggie. ‘Sorry. It’s just a weird thing I do.’
‘It’s kind of creepy,’ Ash murmured to no one in particular.
‘I think it’s fascinating!’ Maggie enthused. ‘So very clever. And to answer your question, the farm can be lonely at times. But that makes days like today even better.’ She looked around at the rest of them, then back to Ellie. ‘You know, I’m bringing this lot somewhere fun after this and you’re more than welcome to join us.’
Ex looked at Ellie, as if he was waiting for her to decide.
‘Sounds good,’ she said eventually. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Oh,’ said Cousin Maggie with a mischievous wink, ‘somewhere very special. Back in time!’
Cousin Maggie led them up the adjacent Kildare Street, walking too briskly as usual.
‘Hustle, hustle!’ she said. ‘You’ll love this place.’
They passed Leinster House – a grey and overwhelming building that Arthur knew was the seat of the Irish government – then went towards a smaller entrance on the right. They climbed a few short steps up to the main entryway: a couple of heavy wooden doors held open by strong chains. Beyond, they found themselves in a round entrance hall. The entire floor was covered in an intricate and beautiful mosaic showing the twelve signs of the zodiac. Arthur quickly spotted his own sign of Aquarius: a Greek figure pouring water from a jar. Around the edges of the hall were souvenir stands selling trinkets and jewellery, posters and books. And overhead was a domed ceiling with a glass centre, allowing natural light to fill the hall.
‘Welcome,’ Cousin Maggie said, stretching her arms wide, ‘to the National Museum.’
‘Wow! It’s amazing!’ Arthur said.
‘You think this is impressive? We’re just in the souvenir shop now!’ She turned on her heel and marched off once more. ‘Follow me.’
They emerged into an even greater hall. The entrance had been a sight to behold, but this room took Arthur’s breath away. The ceiling was higher in here, with glass panels running along its length. The floor below him was covered in a series of mosaic patterns running the length of the hall and huge, timeworn portraits hung on the walls themselves. There were exhibits everywhere he looked – bowls and chalices from the Bronze Age gleaming in glass enclosures, mannequins wearing the remains of costumes and jewellery from the Iron Age, jars and pottery and early examples of writing all out for display. And this was only on the ground floor. He could see a balcony running the entire way around the hall, with people examining other exhibits on the second storey.
‘Let’s explore,’ suggested Cousin Maggie.
Max didn’t need any prompting and ran off to look at a selection of Iron Age weapons. They were housed in a glass cabinet, with a little thermometer inside keeping track of the temperature in case it got too hot or too cold – the wrong temperature would damage the fragile artefacts.
‘Look at that one!’ he cried, pointing to a rusty Celtic dagger, complete with a shining bronze hilt inlaid with gold filigree and bright-blue detailing. The colours in some of the Celtic jewellery really surprised Arthur. He couldn’t imagine how the ancient craftsmen could have created such lively and vivid shades of green, red and blue.
They found a room filled with Celtic high crosses. These stone monuments towered above them, with images of saints or demons carved into their surfaces. Some of the images were still as intricate as when they’d first been carved, while others hadn’t stood the test of time as well and had eroded to faint shadows of their former glories. Another room housed the famous Ardagh Chalice, a silver cup decorated with Celtic knots and spirals and insets of coloured enamel. It wasn’t as large as Arthur had thought it would be from pictures in history books, but it was no less impressive. He remembered seeing the world-renowned Mona Lisa in the Louvre in Paris a couple of years ago on holiday and expecting it to take up half the wall, but he’d been surprised to find that it was barely larger than a standard comic book.
They wandered upstairs where it was much quieter, and into the Egyptian Room. There was sand under the glass floor with pink neon lighting to give it a mystical feel and there was a sarcophagus in the centre of the room. The great coffin had an Egyptian prince painted on the lid, his arms crossed and his eyes wide open.
‘Do you think there’s a mummy in there?’ asked Max.
‘Probably,’ Cousin Maggie said. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t get you, Maxie!’
They continued out of the Egyptian Room. Arthur was about to follow them until he noticed a sign on the wall, with an arrow pointing in the opposite direction, which said Viking Room. He looked at the others: they were intently studying a medieval gown so he didn’t disturb them. He walked towards the Viking Room.
‘Can I come?’
He turned back to find Ellie behind him.
‘Sure,’ he said and went on.
‘Arthur, can I ask
you something?’ she said as they walked along the balcony overlooking the main exhibit hall.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Ash doesn’t like me, does she?’
Arthur stopped and looked at her. She seemed so small and fragile right then that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. ‘Uh … she just doesn’t know you yet.’
‘No, it’s not that. She doesn’t trust me. I can tell.’
‘Don’t be daft, Ellie. Of course she d–’
‘Do you trust me?’
‘Ellie, I barely know you.’
‘But do you trust me?’
He considered for a second. Despite all the weird tricks and showing off, despite the jokey, playful confidence she seemed to exude, Arthur could see her underlying insecurity. She just really wanted to be liked, to have a friend.
‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘I guess I do. You’re my friend, after all.’
‘Great!’ she said, a smile breaking out on her face once more as she strode towards the Viking Room.
The room was long, with exhibits arranged along either side. Thanks to low-wattage ceiling lighting and dark red walls, the room was very atmospheric.
A Viking longboat stood against one wall. The timber was black and smooth, worn by time but preserved in a peat bog, according to the little sign next to it. They walked past cabinets with leather helmets, boots and tunics, with longswords and bows and arrowheads, all rusted and falling apart. One glass case was full of Viking pendants. They were all much smaller and flimsier-looking than Arthur’s. Some were shaped like the hammer, others showed the symbol of the Jormungand to ward off evil spirits, while some even featured Loki’s face with the intelligent eyes and sneaky grin.
‘Arthur,’ Ellie started, gazing at the exhibits, ‘friends confide in each other, right?’
‘Huh?’ he said, looking up from the pendant collection.
‘I was saying that friends confide in each other. Tell each other secrets. You know?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah. But, listen, Ellie, can you give me a minute here? I want to have a look around by myself if that’s all right.’
She looked confused and disappointed but, without saying anything else, turned and left. Arthur actually did want to be left alone, but he also didn’t want to have to field any more questions about secrets and honesty.
He continued on through the Viking Room by himself, taking in the different coins and weapons as he passed. There was nobody else in this gallery and the only sounds were his own footsteps on the parquet floor and the soft ticking of the heaters in the ceiling.
He reached the end of the long hallway and turned a corner into a smaller alcove, where a selection of aged shields and bows hung in tall glass cabinets. As he examined them, comparing them to the ones his own Vikings had, he gradually became aware of footsteps entering the gallery. The steps were light, treading softly and slowly on the floor, and he assumed Ellie must have come back despite what he had said. Yet when he peered around the cabinet to check, the sound stopped and there was no sign of anyone.
Arthur turned back to the bows, leaning in closer to see some intricate carving on a grip. After a moment, the footsteps broke the silence once more.
‘Ellie,’ he said, exasperated, stepping out of the alcove. ‘Is that y–’
A Japanese tourist, complete with a ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’ sweater, a bright-yellow plastic poncho, a green cap emblazoned with shamrocks and a Nikon camera hanging from his neck, was standing in the middle of the gallery, staring right back at Arthur. He smiled pleasantly, then shot off a photograph of the bemused boy. The flash was blinding, sending little blue and red dots spiralling in Arthur’s vision. The tourist nodded once then turned back to the nearest display.
Arthur rubbed his eyes and went back to his alcove. But as he did, he became distracted by a strange feeling. He could feel a warmth starting to emanate from a point on his chest. At first he hoped that it might be a blast of heat from a nearby air conditioner. But as it grew hotter, he knew it wasn’t that. He put his hand against his sweater and felt his pendant underneath. Without even looking, he knew it was glowing. It usually only did this when he was in danger; his stomach clenched with fear.
‘No …’ he whispered to himself just as a third sound broke the peace of the gallery. It was a hollow, rolling sound and it was getting louder. Louder and closer. Whatever it was, whatever was rolling across the wooden floor, bumping on some of the indentations in the parquet, was making its way towards Arthur.
Before he could peer out of his alcove again, the approaching menace arrived. The basketball bounced off the wall at the end of the gallery before coming to a complete stop. Cautiously, as if it actually was a ticking bomb, Arthur picked the ball up. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, except that it was a basketball in the National Museum. But he knew what it meant. And it wasn’t good.
Slowly, Arthur turned on the spot. He could feel the heat rising in his face, the sweat on the palms of his hands.
There was no sign of the tourist. In his place was a boy of Arthur’s age, wearing a basketball vest, shorts and fresh-out-of-the-box sneakers. The boy had platinum-blond hair, icy blue eyes and a long, stately nose that Arthur was more than familiar with.
‘Hey, Artie,’ Will said. ‘Fancy a game?’
For a split second there was silence in the room and all Arthur could hear was his own panicked breathing. Then, suddenly, there was a loud bang and the scream of the museum’s security alarm pierced the room.
Chapter Twelve
Max was leaning against the balcony, shuffling his feet anxiously, as Cousin Maggie, Ash and Ex closely studied the stitching on a medieval dress. He’d enjoyed their first few minutes in the museum, but then the sight of all the old costumes and weapons on display brought back terrifying memories to him: the Vikings, the World Serpent and, of course, Loki.
He wondered where Arthur and that other girl had gotten to. No matter how frightened or wary he’d felt over the past months, having Arthur or his sister nearby always put him at ease. He knew he was safe around them. But now Arthur was suddenly missing.
‘Where’s Arthur?’ he asked out loud, his voice reverberating around the quiet museum.
He looked over the balcony into the main exhibition hall. There were lots of people down there, tourists and families milling around and gazing with fascination at the artefacts. Cousin Maggie and Ash joined him at the rail and peered over. No sign of Arthur or Ellie anywhere.
‘Oh, I’m sure they’ve just gone exploring,’ Maggie said, then turned back to the medieval mannequins. ‘Something wrong, Ex?’ The boy’s eyes were wide, staring straight over their heads at the ceiling. Cousin Maggie, Ash and Max followed his gaze.
Through the glass they could just about make out some shadowy figures moving about. People in black were walking along the roof, stepping over the rafters and supports that held the glass in place, but taking care not to stand on the glass itself. It was difficult to say how many there were, but there were enough to disrupt the faint January light that had been coming through.
‘Who on earth is that?’ Cousin Maggie muttered, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, but no one answered her as they all stared upwards. The people around them noticed their staring and looked up. Soon everyone on the balcony and the floor below was watching the glass and exclaiming to each other.
A shiver ran up Max’s spine and he had a strong feeling that whatever was going on wasn’t good. No, he thought. No, not again. Arthur. Where was Arthur? Max had just made up his mind to go in search of him when one of the figures on the roof placed something the size and shape of a tennis ball on the centre of a pane of glass. Everyone watched as each figure placed their own dark ball on each of the panes.
‘What do you think those are?’ Ash managed to ask, the dread in her voice clear to her companions.
‘Get down,’ Ex said.
‘What?’
‘I said get down!’ With that, he shoved them to
the floor. ‘Cover your heads!’ This time nobody questioned him and they all did as he ordered, covering themselves with their coats. Ex did likewise, ducking down next to them and wrapping his thick, muscular arms over his head.
And just in time too, as a series of small explosions burst through the ceiling. They heard the sound of glass smashing, disintegrating to smithereens, followed by the security alarms blaring. They could feel shards of glass showering down onto their hunched backs, almost like rain. Cousin Maggie whimpered next to Max, and the shrieks and terrified screams of other visitors filled the air. As the noise subsided, Ash, desperate to see what was happening, took a chance and raised her head, peering over the edge of the balcony.
Slivers of glass coated the lower floor, twinkling where the remaining light reflected off them. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the sounds that accompanied it: the screeching alarm, the screams and clattering as people ran for the exits, some of them bleeding from cuts caused by the falling shards. She looked up at the ceiling. The glass was totally gone now, blown out by whatever explosives the figures had used. And she could see the dark figures more clearly now. They were all dressed from neck to toe in fitted black Lycra overalls with black gloves on their hands. Motorcycle helmets covered their heads, perfect dome shapes that shone like ebony. As she watched, they each pulled a metallic cord from their belts and attached them to the rafters with a carabiner clip. The other end was still attached to them and, before she knew it, they were dropping into the museum, the cord extending from their belts as they abseiled to the ground with a whoosh. And, Ash saw with alarm, they each had a crossbow strapped to their backs. The figures dropped past the balcony, descending to the floor below.
The others joined Ash at the edge of the balcony now, peeking over carefully. Cousin Maggie gasped as the figures in black – both male and female from their shapes – unhooked the cords from their belts and aimed their crossbows at the people cowering below who hadn’t managed to make it out. The attackers didn’t shout any commands at the frightened people, probably because they wouldn’t be heard through their thick helmets, Ash assumed. Nevertheless, the people understood what they wanted them to do and all moved together in one group to the centre of the hall, shaking with terror. More of the figures came in through the door from the anteroom, leading other terrified visitors and museum workers from the souvenir shop. They shut the huge wooden doors with a bang that echoed throughout the hall.
