‘Hoax fire alarms are serious, miss. If there’d been a real fire elsewhere, people could have died.’
‘People will die if you don’t stop this show!’
‘That’s a serious threat.’
‘It’s not a threat! I’m trying to stop something awful happening. These people are being controlled by spirits, they’re not in their right minds!’
‘I see. Have you taken anything tonight, miss?’
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘Drugs, Donna. He’s asking if you’re high,’ Helen said.
‘No! Of course not. You have to believe me!’
‘Come along, miss. We’ll have a doctor check you out at the police station.’
Defeated, Donna allowed herself to be escorted away. She took one last look back at Helen, and saw the shape of a medieval knight standing behind her, almost melding with the director.
*
Helen gave Paul a thumbs up as he rushed to his new position on the balcony, then turned to Mike, Dan, Ed and Sarah. ‘This is our best opening night ever, despite all that nonsense with Donna earlier. They’re loving it!’
All four nodded with smiles and prepared themselves for their final scene.
Helen opened her mouth to give more encouragement, then closed it and turned to watch as the stage was lit once more.
Charlie was barely visible, kneeling before his table which had been transformed into an altar by cloth and cross.
Paul, standing on the new platform Ed and Alec had constructed, was six feet above the stage, shining in the full glare of the spotlight. He watched Becket pray for a moment then turned to the audience.
In the wings, Helen silently clapped her hands: his timing was perfect.
‘A man who came to me with naught. A man I raised up from naught treats me with such contempt as this! And you, you do naught!
‘What miserable and cowardly drones and traitors have I nourished and promoted that allow their king to be so shamed?
‘Who here shall take vengeance for the wrongs that I have suffered? Which man that swore fealty to me, to redress all injury done to me, and pledged their loyalty and honour to me shall make good on their vow now?
‘Are you so weakened by castles, wealth and comfort that you no longer care to fight for your king?
‘Damn the lot of you for weaklings – allowing a troublesome, low-born clerk to treat their king with such scorn!
‘I am ashamed to call you my vassals. England is ashamed of her lords! Who shall cut this canker from England’s breast?’
A recording of loud male cheers and the thumping of booted feet on wooden floors and goblets on wooden tables reverberated throughout the theatre, and the knights rushed on to stage, passing underneath Henry and confronting Becket who rose to meet them as the spotlight on him brightened.
‘What insanity is this, that you would enter Canterbury Cathedral bearing arms?’
‘We are the King’s men, come to take you to Henry to answer for your crimes,’ FitzUrse declared.
‘Crimes? Crimes? Of what crimes do you speak? I have committed no act that could be so described.’
‘You excommunicated your king’s bishops – a traitorous act! By so doing you have declared yourself against the Young King, the Crown of England, and King Henry himself!’ FitzUrse turned and pointed at Henry.
Becket laughed, shook his head, and looked up at his king, who returned his stare as he braced himself on the railings of his balcony.
‘King? You are naught but a small boy, stamping your foot in anger when he has lost the game!’
‘What are you doing? You should not be talking to Henry! Get back to the others!’ Helen hissed, gesticulating to get Charlie’s attention. He ignored her.
‘You have gone too far, my old friend,’ Henry said. ‘All I have done for you, and you betray me so heinously.’
‘I betray you? You sent your knights to silence me!’ Becket protested. ‘You betray not only my own person but the Church and God Himself.’ He smacked the fist of one hand into the palm of the other.
‘Do not presume to chastise your king, Thomas. You shall only make matters go worse for you.’
Helen gave up her protests and watched silently, as did the two hundred people in the auditorium, all captivated by the two powerful men on stage.
‘Cease this nonsense, Henry.’ Becket indicated the stage with a wave of his arm. ‘We have chased each other through Heaven and Hell for near a millennium, and now look,’ Becket gestured to the auditorium, ‘we are naught but a mummers’ show, displayed for the entertainment of commoners.’
‘You call this a mummers’ show?’ Henry asked, incredulous. ‘What do you call the farce at your so-called shrine? Saint Thomas – that is the most heinous fallacy of all! You are a low-born clerk!’ He slammed his fist on the rail, his face turning purple with rage. ‘Look how you have been raised up both in life and in death, by me!’ The last word was a roar.
‘Raised up? Hounded and murdered!’ Becket roared back. ‘Murdered by my closest friend. And for what? Because I carried out the duties of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The duties you laid on me despite my protests!’
‘You were my friend, my ally, together we could have transformed both England and the Church.’
‘Your demands were unjust, Henry! You wanted power over the Church, nothing more. You wanted to use me to weaken the Church. You were not a king but a tyrant, too full of his own glory!’
‘A tyrant you say?’ Henry’s voice was quiet, menacing, yet carried to every ear in the auditorium. ‘You talk to me of tyranny? You, who refused the just demands of your king? You, who raised the Church against me? A low-born clerk challenging the rule of his king and you talk to me of tyranny?’ Henry’s voice rose in a crescendo. ‘You, who damned my bishops? You, who would deny my son his crown? You, who incited the common folk of this good country against me?’
‘The common folk of this country know what is just,’ Becket answered, fumbling in the folds of his green robe. ‘The common folk of this country need both King and Church. The common folk of this country have the sense to know that one without the other breeds only terror! Yes, I gave voice to the common folk of this country. Yes, I spoke and acted for the common folk of this country. And you – you still stand above them on a pedestal of your own making! You still send your knights to murder!’ Becket indicated the four men behind him, a flash of light from the blade he had retrieved from his robe blinding Henry for a moment.
‘Not this time! You shall not murder me again, tonight our story changes.’ Becket threw the dagger, and laughed as the blade sank into Henry’s chest, blood spurting from the wound and splattering his upturned face. ‘Tonight I finally have my revenge!’
‘Sire! King Henry!’ the knights shouted as the audience gasped and Paul toppled over the railing of his balcony to thud on the boards below.
‘You have murdered the King!’ FitzUrse shrieked. ‘Murderer! Traitor!’
Charlie staggered and looked around in shock, his eyes fixed on the body of his friend. ‘Paul? What, what happened?’ He screamed as FitzUrse’s blade sank into his shoulder at the point where it met his neck.
‘Dan, no!’ he gasped as he fell to his knees, blood spurting from his wound.
The four knights stood and stared at the felled men in shock.
Tracy dropped his sword with a clatter. ‘The King . . . the King is dead. We shall be blamed.’
‘Silence, William,’ FitzUrse shouted.
‘But we will be blamed! You’ve done it again and led us to ruin!’
‘Silence!’ FitzUrse roared and swung his sword.
Mike jumped backwards, avoiding the blade. ‘Dan, stop! What are you doing?’
‘Charlie!’ Sarah sobbed as she knelt beside her friend in a growing pool of blood, then looked up at her husband. ‘You’ve killed him!’
Dan stared at his wife, then at his bloody sword and dropped it in shock. ‘N-n-n-no. No. No.’ He f
ell to his knees, hugged himself and swayed back and forth, still uttering the denial.
Chapter 47
8th August 2015
The remnants of The Castle Players walked away from the police station, down Castlegate towards the centre of Knaresborough a week later, after being questioned by the police yet again.
‘Helen!’
They turned to see Donna running towards them.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really,’ Helen said. ‘They keep asking us the same questions, as if they think the answers are going to change!’
‘Asking if we killed our friends,’ Sarah added.
‘It’s been a nightmare,’ Ed said.
‘But they’ve let you go,’ Donna said.
‘Reluctantly,’ Helen said. ‘They couldn’t charge us with anything. Everyone could, could s-s-see . . .’
Donna held Helen as she fought against tears. She’d already shed more in the past week than she had in the past year.
‘They still think we did it, though,’ Mike said. ‘You could see it on their faces. I’m sure they’re convinced we poisoned them or slipped them some acid or something.’
‘But you didn’t and there’s no evidence of any drugs or poison.’
‘No. They’ve put it down to mass hysteria,’ Alec said. ‘Blaming it on the pressure of putting on the play.’
‘You know it wasn’t that,’ Donna said, and the others nodded.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,’ Helen said. ‘Did you get into much trouble?’
‘No, they let me go the next morning.’
Helen nodded. ‘Have you heard about Dan?’
‘No,’ Donna said. ‘What’s happened to him?’
‘He still hasn’t spoken,’ Sarah said. ‘Other than repeating “No”.’
‘It’s a catatonic state, apparently, probably to do with post-traumatic stress or something,’ Mike added.
‘Oh my goodness, tell me he isn’t still in police custody,’ Donna said.
‘No, he’s at the Briary,’ Sarah said. Donna looked puzzled. ‘The psychiatric unit at Harrogate District Hospital,’ Sarah explained. ‘I’ve been to see him a couple of times, and he’s just . . . just not there.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s his body, but it’s like no one’s home.’
‘So he won’t be fit to stand trial,’ Donna said.
Sarah broke into sobs and Mike comforted her.
‘No,’ Helen said. ‘He doesn’t even know his own name. There won’t be a trial.’
‘But he killed Charlie in front of everyone,’ Donna said. ‘Or rather, Reginald FitzUrse did.’
‘He’s lost his mind,’ Ed said. ‘He’ll never get out of hospital.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Donna said.
‘So you bloody well should be,’ Alec said. ‘Selling crap like that spirit board, destroying people’s lives. It’s dangerous! You’re dangerous.’
‘Alec,’ Helen said.
‘No, he’s right, Helen,’ Donna said. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened before. I’ve burned all my spirit boards and I know most other retailers have as well, despite the way people have reacted.’
‘What do you mean, despite the way people have reacted? People have condemned them on the news.’
Donna shrugged. ‘Hasn’t stopped everybody wanting one. I could have sold a couple of hundred these last few days. People have come from Leeds, York and even further away to buy the exact same type that you used.’
The Castle Players stared at her, mouths open.
‘Nowt so queer as folk.’ Mike recovered first.
‘I need a drink,’ Helen said.
‘I think we could all use one of those,’ Donna said, smiling. ‘The Borough Bailiff?’
‘No! No,’ Helen said, the second word calmer. ‘I don’t want to be in public, I can’t face people, I’m sick of phones being stuck in my face to take pictures for their blogs and whatever. We can go to mine, it’s on Finkle Street.’
The others nodded and, in silence, they crossed the Market Place and walked through the narrow alleys to Helen’s.
‘Wine, beer or gin,’ Helen said, flicking lights on.
‘Gin and tonic please – a strong one,’ Mike said. ‘Beer just won’t do it tonight, and I never want to drink wine again.’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Donna said, following Helen into the kitchen while the others found seats in the lounge and sat in a shocked silence.
Helen busied herself collecting glasses and ice cube trays. ‘The gin’s in that cupboard to the left,’ she told Donna. ‘And there should be tonic in the fridge.’
Donna opened cupboard doors, looking for the right one. ‘Did you ever find the spirit board?’
‘No. I don’t know how many times we searched, but we covered every inch of that theatre and it was nowhere to be found.’
‘Then how did it get into your kitchen cupboard?’
‘What?’ Helen turned and dropped the glass she was filling with ice and lemon when she saw Donna holding the board. She pressed herself back against the counter, her face white with terror, arms stretched out as if to fend Donna and the board away.
‘What happened, are you okay?’ Alec said, rushing into the kitchen. ‘I heard . . . Where the hell did you get that? How dare you bring another one of those things in here!’
‘I didn’t,’ Donna said. ‘It’s the original one, I just found it.’ She indicated the cupboard.
‘Helen?’ Alec said quietly. ‘What’s going on?’
Helen looked at him and her other friends gathered behind Alec in the doorway. ‘I-I-I don’t know. I don’t know how that got there. Honestly, I don’t.’ Her gaze flicked between Donna and the others, eyes wide. ‘You have to believe me, I didn’t put it there.’
‘You must have,’ Sarah said. ‘Who else would?’
Helen just stared at the lettered board.
‘It will have been Broc,’ Donna said.
‘Broc? What are you talking about? We didn’t call on Broc,’ Ed said.
‘Doesn’t matter. He was connected to the others, they must have pulled him through with them.’
‘Pulled him through?’
‘From the spirit world,’ Donna said. ‘I suspect he’s been with Helen from the beginning.’
‘What about me? Does that mean a spirit’s been with me too?’ Alec asked.
‘I think that’s likely, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone along with everything.’
‘Mauclerk,’ Helen said.
‘How do you know?’ Donna asked.
‘It makes sense. Behind the scenes, though very much involved, and particularly close to Morville who was played by Ed, Alec’s best friend.’
‘I see,’ Donna said, then paused as they all digested Helen’s words. ‘Well, that’s not important now. We need to deal with this board, close it—’
‘Destroy it,’ Sarah said.
‘Yes. Destroy it. Helen, Sarah, you finish off in here. The rest of you come with me to the garden, we need to make a fire. Do you have a barbecue stand or something, Helen?’
‘Yes, in the shed.’
‘Lighter fluid, matches?’
Helen nodded, pointing to one of the kitchen drawers.
*
Helen and Sarah, calmer now, joined the others in the garden, carrying six gin and tonics which they put on the table. ‘Is it done?’ Helen indicated the fire blazing in the barbecue.
‘Not yet. I want all of you to do it,’ Donna said. ‘Mike, can you break it up somehow? Smaller pieces will burn better.’
Mike nodded, gingerly picking up the board, and he carried it to the back steps. Placing it down so it overhung, he stamped on it, splitting it, then again and again.
‘That should do it, Mike,’ Donna said, taking a gentle hold of his shoulder. ‘Mike?’
He paused, took a deep breath, and nodded. They collected the splinters and handed them out round the group so each Castle Player h
ad part of the board to throw on to the fire.
‘Goodbye,’ Donna said and indicated to the others they should say the same as they burned their pieces of wood.
‘Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, don’t come back again. Goodbye you evil, murdering bastards,’ Helen said, stopping only when Donna handed her a drink. She took a long, large gulp. ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered.
The others made similar sentiments as they threw the splinters of board on to the fire, ‘Goodbye, good riddance, leave us alone. Piss off back to Hell.’
‘Is that it, have they gone?’ Ed said after they had watched the flames for a while.
‘To be honest, I think they left in the theatre, once Henry and Becket had . . . ’ Donna couldn’t finish. She took a deep breath, then, ‘This is just closing the door, to make sure they stay gone. Let’s go in, though, and I’ll double check.’ She led the way, carrying her still full glass.
Inside she knelt before each actor in turn, closed her eyes a moment, then looked up at them from under her lashes. ‘There’s no one here that shouldn’t be,’ she said after a couple of minutes. ‘Your auras are clear.’
‘That’s that then,’ Alec said.
‘Not quite. You’ve all been exposed to the spirit world, I want you to protect yourselves spiritually every day to make sure nothing else attaches to you.’
‘You mean this could happen again? What, we’re targets now?’ Sarah asked. ‘I’ve lost my husband, my children have lost their father, and two of the best people I know are dead, and this can happen again?’
‘Possibly. Don’t worry,’ she added quickly, recognising panic in Sarah’s rising voice, ‘it’s very unlikely, more to be safe than sorry really.’
‘Too late for that,’ Alec said.
Donna broke the ensuing silence. ‘I want you to imagine wrapping yourselves up in a cloak of white light, so your whole body is covered, head to foot, can you do that now?’
Helen and Sarah nodded and closed their eyes, then the men agreed. ‘Okay.’
‘Now call on your guardian angels to protect you and keep you safe.’
Alec’s eyes snapped open, then he closed them again – protest gone before it was uttered.
Knight of Betrayal: A Medieval Haunting (Ghosts of Knaresborough Book 1) Page 18
