The Time Hunters and the Sword of Ages

by carl ashmore

  ‘They do not.’

  ‘Heavens above, you are a fine sight.’

  ‘As are you.’

  Friar Tuck released Will. He turned his toward Marian, who smiled back at him. ‘And Lady Marian?’

  ‘Good e’en, fair friar,’ Marian said.

  ‘M’lady.’ Tuck bowed.

  ‘And these are my friends,’ Will said. ‘Percy Halifax and Becky and Joe Mellor.’

  ‘Greetings to you all.’ Tuck bowed at each of them in turn, before looking back at Will and saying, ‘I believed you to be with God, my brother.’

  ‘That time will come soon enough,’ Will replied. His voice grew solemn. ‘How is the Lady Ann?’

  ‘She is fading,’ Tuck replied. ‘The Lady Caroline watches over her as she sleeps, but her time with us is short now. However, her benevolence has assured her a place at God’s side.’

  ‘That it has.’

  ‘And what brings you all to Wulvern House?’

  ‘You,’ Will replied.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘We seek your knowledge, your counsel and your experience.’

  Friar Tuck laughed heartily, his chin rippling like jelly. ‘Och, you must be in grim circumstances if you seek my counsel.’

  ‘We’re searching for the Sword of Ages,’ Uncle Percy said.

  The words winded Tuck. ‘The Sword of Ages?’ he puffed. ‘You’re searching for the Holy Sword?’

  ‘We are,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The problem is we barely know anything about it. We were hoping you might be able to illuminate us?’

  ‘Aye… of course I can. The tale of Excalibur is legendary in my homeland.’

  Becky could scarcely believe her ears: Excalibur.

  Joe clearly felt the same way. ‘Excalibur!’ he gushed. ‘The Sword of Ages is Excalibur?’

  ‘Aye,’ Tuck replied. ‘But the Sword of Ages has had countless names through the ages: Caledfwlch, Claíomh Solais, the Sword of Peleus. Tis a weapon of matchless power that can conquer any foe. Legend claims it to be forged by God himself.’

  ‘Of course!’ Uncle Percy exclaimed, as though Tuck’s words made something fall into place. He looked at Becky and Joe. ‘Do you remember the bible passage said the Garden of Eden was guarded by a flaming sword?’

  Becky and Joe nodded.

  ‘Well, in numerous Arthurian myths, it was said Excalibur’s steel was forged in dragon fire and that it had an unnaturally shimmering appearance – like celestial fire. A flaming sword, indeed.’ He smiled. ‘Who’d have thought that Excalibur, the Flaming Sword of Eden and The Sword of Ages are all one and the same? Isn’t it intriguing how we keep finding the real-life origins of these famous legends?’

  But Joe was much more interested in something else. ‘So is it true that Excalibur was King Arthur’s sword?’ he asked Tuck.

  Tuck looked astounded. ‘What does thou know of Artúr, laddie?’

  ‘He was an English King, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Bah!’ Tuck growled. ‘Artúr were as English as I. He was a Scot – but he was ne’er a King. He was Prince Artúr mac Aedan, first son of Aidan, of Dalriada. It is said that Prince Artúr unearthed Excalibur in the vestiges of the Roman fort, Ad Vallum, in the Kingdom of Manann. With Excalibur by his side, he was victorious in countless battles, until a cutpurse stole the blade. Without its guard, Artúr was slain in the Battle of Miathi. The sword vanished for hundreds of years, until it was found in the Holy Land by a Knight of the First Crusade.’

  ‘You mean Morogh MacDougal?’

  Tuck looked impressed. ‘You know of Morogh MacDougal, laddie? You have wisdom beyond your years. Aye, MacDougal was a great Scottish Knight, a virtuous Hospitaller, and a scholarly man.’

  ‘So how did he find Excalibur?’ Joe asked.

  ‘It is said that Saint Andrew came to him in a vision during the Siege of Antioch, and gave him the path to Excalibur’s resting place. MacDougal journeyed to the Dead Sea, where he found the ruins of a Church, founded by Saint Andrew himself. It was there he found the sword…’

  ‘So what happened then?’ Joe asked.

  ‘In time, MacDougal saw the blade’s influence over those it touched. And he grew to fear it, as the disbeliever fears death. And it was then he had a second vision from Saint Andrew – a vision that charged him to return to Scotland, to his home, his mighty castle on the banks of the Ness - ’

  ‘A castle on Loch Ness?’ Uncle Percy interrupted. ‘Do you mean Urquhart Castle?’

  ‘I do, sire,’ Tuck replied. ‘Urquhart was his home.’

  ‘What was the second vision about?’ Joe asked.

  ‘It commanded he hide Excalibur from the eyes of man because one day, a Prince, the son of a great King, would require its control to vanquish a great evil from the world. And so Morogh MacDougal hid the sword and crafted two daggers to point to its location, for the prince to find when that hour came.’

  ‘And did a prince ever find it?’ Joe asked.

  ‘No, laddie,’ Tuck replied. ‘And as the years passed, the daggers vanished … separated, some say, across continents, never to be reunited.’

  Will’s eyes met Uncle Percy’s. ‘Perhaps it is time you showed my old friend the artefact that has brought us here.’

  Looking uneasily at Will, Uncle Percy withdrew MacDougal’s dagger. ‘We thought you might know something about this.’

  Tuck’s eyes bulged. ‘Ye gads!’ he gasped. ‘Can it be true?’

  ‘It can and it is,’ Uncle Percy replied.

  Trembling, Tuck took the dagger. He could barely speak. ‘Dost thou know what this is?’

  ‘Not really,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘We were hoping you could tell us.’

  Tuck wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the inscription.

  As Tuck processed the words, Becky felt certain she saw fear line his face.

  Will noticed, too. ‘What is the matter, old friend?’

  ‘I am just startled,’ Tuck replied. ‘I have speculated over this dagger my whole life, to hold it is very special...’

  ‘Will informs us that you have similar one?’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘It never leaves my person,’ Tuck replied, delving beneath his cloak and pulling out a second knife. He placed them side-by-side. The daggers were identical in almost every way, except for the Latin inscription on the blade.

  ‘What does the text mean?’ Becky asked, pointing at Tuck’s dagger.

  His expression still difficult to read, Tuck cleared his throat and began to speak.

  ‘Solve the text of Symphosius

  Find the one with no one

  Then trail the Sword’s light,

  To the place far from sun,

  And within that setting

  Beyond beast and man

  The Holy Sword waits

  For thy Royal hand…’

  ‘What’s a Symphosius?’ Joe asked Tuck.

  ‘I have never known,’ Tuck replied.

  ‘Well I think I do,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And I believe Symphosius is a ‘who’ and not a ‘what’. He was a third century Christian author of riddles, about which almost nothing is known. His only known work is The Aenigmata, a collection of riddles written in Latin hexameters.’

  ‘So we have to solve one of Symphosius’ riddles?’

  ‘It seems that way,’ Uncle Percy replied.

  ‘And what about the line: find the one with no one?’ Becky asked. ‘I mean - that doesn’t even make sense.’

  ‘No … it doesn’t.’ Uncle Percy frowned. ‘Any thoughts Tuck?’

  Tuck shook his head. ‘In truth, the entire verse hath confounded me since I first held the blade.’ His eyes found the second dagger. ‘But with this other verse much has been revealed.’ There was a dark nuance to his voice.

  ‘D’you think so?’ Joe asked keenly.

  ‘I know it to be so, laddie,’ Tuck said. He fixed Uncle Percy with a stare. ‘And before I speak more I need to know who you are … and why you seek the sword?’

  Will,
who had been silent thus far, reached out and placed his right hand firmly on Tuck’s shoulder. ‘Good friar,’ he said. ‘There are matters of which you have every right to know. And we shall tell you these in time, as we have told Marian. But you must understand we would not embark lightly on this quest. I cannot speak for MacDougal’s prophecy, but a terrible evil does exist, and that same evil seeks this sword for its own harmful ends.’ His following words were delivered in a slow, precise manner. ‘And be assured, old friend, it is perchance a more terrible evil than this world has ever known, more malevolent than King John, more persuasive than the church of Rome, more powerful than Saladin and his Ayyubid armies. So you must trust me, Angus, as you have done so many times before … my friends and I must secure the sword before our enemies do.’

  Tuck appeared both shaken and astounded by Will’s words. ‘I do trust thee, Will … more than any man alive. If you believe this threat be so great, then of course I shall tell thee all I know. But I must warn you, to seek the sword puts you in perils you dare not imagine. Sire, can you read Latin?’

  ‘I get by,’ Uncle Percy replied.

  Tuck passed both daggers to Uncle Percy. ‘Then please recite the verses as one.’

  Uncle Percy nodded and began to speak.

  ‘I leave, for thy finding,

  O, future prince,

  The fiery blade forged

  With divine providence,

  Tramp the land of my fathers,

  To the shrine that I raised

  In the steps of Columba

  See my guide, held in glaze

  Solve the text of Symphosius

  Find the one with no one

  Then trail the Sword’s light,

  To the place far from sun,

  And within that chamber

  Beyond beast and man

  The Holy Sword waits

  For thy Royal hand…’

  After he had finished, Uncle Percy stared at Tuck and said, ‘The Land of my fathers … a shrine … Saint Columba … Am I right in thinking we’re looking for a church or a monastery in Scotland?’

  ‘I deem it so,’ Tuck replied. ‘And there can be only one that befits this verse.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Saint Cuthbert’s at Abriachan,’ Tuck replied. ‘Tis a short trek from Urquhart Castle.’

  ‘And why that one?’

  ‘Because Saint Columba founded the first ever church raised at Abriachan.’

  Uncle Percy didn’t look convinced. ‘But didn’t Saint Columba establish over three hundred churches across Scotland?’

  ‘He did, sire. But Saint Cuthbert’s is the only one with –’

  It was if a light bulb flicked on in Uncle Percy’s head. ‘ - A stained glass window depicting Saint Andrew.’

  ‘Aye, sire.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Becky said, confused. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘The riddle,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It says ‘See my guide, held in glaze’. Saint Andrew was MacDougal’s guide to the location of sword. Add this to ‘held in glaze’ and it suggests his image adorns a window.’

  ‘Great,’ Joe said triumphantly. ‘Then we know where to start. Let’s get to Saint Cuthbert’s. We can figure out the rest later -’

  ‘No,’ Tuck interrupted forcefully. ‘Abriachan is a perilous place, laddie, and the church had been long abandoned because of - ’ He stopped mid sentence as if unable to continue.

  ‘Go on,’ Becky insisted.

  ‘- Because of the evil that patrols the Ness’ black waters from Saint Augustus to Drumnadrochit to Inverness.’

  ‘What do you mean “evil”?’ Joe asked.

  ‘The tale goes that when MacDougal found Excalibur in the Holy Land, he stole it from the guard of a great dragon … a creature birthed in the very depths of hell, a beast at home on the land as in the water: The Kraken - ’

  Uncle Percy made an audible groan.

  ‘What’s a Kraken?’ Joe asked.

  ‘It’s a mythical sea monster, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied flatly.

  ‘Why are these things always guarded by bloody great monsters?’ Joe said loudly. ‘Just for once, couldn’t they be guarded by chickens?’

  ‘Please, Tuck, continue …’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘It is said that in stealing the blade,’ Tuck said, ‘MacDougal incurred the Kraken’s wrath so greatly the beast swam across the known seas, tramped deserts and mountains, in a hunt for the blade it lost. It took upward of two summers but the Kraken found MacDougal, and in revenge for the theft, laid siege to Urquhart Castle, slaying everyone and everything within its ramparts, including MacDougal himself. The Kraken left Urquhart in ruins and it has ne’er been inhabited to this day.’

  ‘And what happened to the sword?’ Becky asked.

  ‘No one knows,’ Tuck replied. ‘It had been long hidden afore the Kraken appeared in the Loch. But many still believe the monster haunts the waters of the Ness to this day, hunting for the blade it lost.’

  And then something occurred to Becky. ‘Hang on, so you’re saying the Kraken is the Loch Ness monster? That’s just brilliant.’ Her eyes pierced Uncle Percy like daggers. ‘Did you hear that? Nessie’s real … and she eats people. Whoopee doo!’

  Chapter 22

  Revelation and Revulsion

  ‘Now, now, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said, trying to sound as upbeat as he could. ‘We don’t know this Kraken is real. After all, the good friar only mentions it in terms of legend.’

  ‘Gimme a break,’ Becky replied with a snort. ‘Look at our track record: Hydras, Zombies, Harpies, Mummies, Sea Serpents, and a dirty great Sphinx. I think it’s probably fair to say Nessie is a twenty headed killing machine as big as a KFC drive through.’

  ‘And so what?’ Joe shrugged. ‘We’ve beaten monsters before.’

  Becky scowled at him. ‘You know, one day, when summat massive bites your legs off, don’t start blarting when you’re writhing about on the floor like a slug.’

  Joe was about to respond when an upstairs door creaked open. A middle-aged woman in a lilac taffeta dress appeared at the top of the stairs, her dark hair hidden beneath a pearl-white wimple. She glanced down with surprise at the group. ‘Fair friar… I understand Wulvern House has visitors?’

  ‘It does, Lady Caroline, forgive our noise. Will Shakelock is here and hath brought with him stirring tidings.’

  ‘Will Shakelock?’ Lady Caroline said, shocked.

  ‘Indeed, Lady Caroline.’ Will bowed.

  ‘It does me well to see you, Will.’

  ‘And I you,’ Will replied. ‘I am regretful if we woke you.’

  ‘Truly, I was not sleeping,’ Lady Caroline replied. ‘But the Lady Ann hath wakened. She heard children’s voices and requests she may receive them in her chambers. It hath been many years since she the strains of youth have been heard in the halls of Wulvern House.’

  Uncle Percy looked strangely flushed. He glanced at Will. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  Becky was surprised by his words. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lady Ann is sick,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It may be infectious.’

  ‘She is without sickness,’ Tuck said. ‘She is merely passing over to our maker’s keeping. Truly, it would benefit her to see the faces of children for a final time.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Uncle Percy said.

  Becky scowled at Uncle Percy. What was the matter with him? ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘We’ll see her. Won’t we, Joe?’

  ‘Course we will,’ Joe agreed.

  ‘That is good of thee,’ Tuck said. ‘Come … I shall make the introductions.’

  Turk turned and approached the stairs. Becky and Joe followed. Reaching the first floor, Tuck entered a doorway. Following him inside, Becky and Joe found themselves in a large room with a high ceiling, criss-crossed by thick oak beams. A fire crackled in the corner, illuminating a large bed, lying in which was a woman, about seventy years of age, her silver hair rolling
over a velvet pillow. Her eyes were kind and gentle, her skin crinkly like the bark of an ancient tree.

  ‘M’lady,’ Tuck said gently. ‘How be you?’

  ‘Breath still dwells in my body, Tuck,’ Lady Ann said, struggling to find the energy to speak. ‘But my time on this earth grows short.’

  ‘The place to which you now journey, M’lady, is a far happier one than this earth. You will be hailed by Saint Peter with open arms like an old friend.’

  ‘Thank you, friar.’ Lady Ann glanced at Becky and Joe. ‘And who are these that come to my house this night?’

  ‘Old friends,’ Will said, walking over to her and kneeling at her bedside. He took her hand.

  An incredulous smile formed on Lady Ann’s mouth. ‘Will Shakelock?’

  ‘Aye, M’lady.’

  ‘Can this be true?’

  ‘It can, Lady Ann.’

  ‘I am blessed to see you before I die.’

  ‘And I am honoured to be seen.’

  ‘And these children … they are with you?’

  ‘They are,’ Will replied. ‘This is Becky and Joe Mellor.’

  Lady Ann raised an unsteady hand, beckoning Becky over. ‘Please, child, come closer. Permit an old woman to see your face.’

  Becky walked over to the bed. ‘Hello, Lady Ann.’

  ‘Greetings, Becky,’ Lady Ann said, smiling. ‘Child, you are as fair a maiden as any my eyes have seen.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And there is a boy with you?’

  ‘Yes. My brother.’ Becky nodded for Joe to join her.

  As Joe walked into the light, something unexpected happened. Lady Ann’s eyes widened. She couldn’t speak. ‘Do mine eyes deceive me?’ she panted. ‘Hath my time arrived? Art thou an angel?’

  Joe didn’t know what to say.

  ‘You are beside me again … Richard!’

  ‘Err, I’m sorry,’ Joe replied. ‘I’m not –’

  Lady Ann didn’t appear to hear him. Tears were trickling down her cheeks now. ‘Oh, Richard, you look as strong as the mighty oak …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lady Ann,’ Joe said. ‘I’m not Richard. I’m –’

  Recognition flared in Lady Ann’s eyes. ‘Truly, my fading eyes betray me. Forgive me … you are George … Prince George.’ She gulped a mouthful of air. ‘You are your father’s match in every way – your stature, your locks, your eyes.’