“Other things?”
“The other things you said happened.”
I cleared my throat. I’d told no one about the man who shot at me, not even Nick, my closest friend. I wondered if Natasha, who’d been through some adventures with me already and knew about the Society of Secrets, would believe me.
“When I got to Auntie’s house, I went in alone. Dad was parking the car.” I rubbed my chin. “But someone else was there,” I said.
“Like a cleaner or something?”
“Not exactly. Like a burglar or something.”
I explained how I’d climbed the tree and seen the man, and how I’d shouted and he’d come out with a gun and—
“You’re pulling my leg, Rhory. You’re seriously telling me someone tried to shoot you while you were up a tree?”
“That’s what happened. Just as I told you. If it hadn’t been for Auntie’s cat jumping at him I don’t think I would be talking to you now.”
“Truly, Rho, you’re not winding me up?”
“Honest, Nat. Honest. I’ve not told anyone else because I knew they wouldn’t believe me.” I explained how I’d seen the man before and how the police had arrived at exactly the right moment.
“God, Rhory, this is serious. Who on earth would want to kill you?” We both thought about that for a moment. “Aren’t you scared?”
“Yes. I am. But there’s not a lot I can do about it, is there?” I could feel a chilly worm of panic forming in a deep point in my stomach.
“Wow. We’re going to the house this weekend to help pack up. Mum asked me if I wanted to go and I’ve said yes. Do you think this guy will attack us?”
“I don’t think so. It’s me he’s following, and he was searching for either the Time Sphere or the journal my – or rather our – ancestor kept, that had a record of what had happened and what … I don’t know … what would happen.”
“Did he get it?”
“I don’t think so. It’s well hidden in her funny drinks cabinet, the cylindrical one in her sitting room. But someone had moved the key, so I couldn’t get to it.”
I told Natasha where the key was now hidden under the statue of the boy in the garden.
“If you get a chance this weekend, open up the drinks commode thingy and use the key to get the journal.”
Natasha said that she would, and keep it safe until we met up.
“How do you feel about the Alexandria idea?”
“The what?” I asked.
“The idea of us going to Alexandria?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Nat.”
“Aunt Aida phoned yesterday and invited me and you to go with her and Uncle Adam to Egypt this Easter. Uncle Adam will have work in Cairo, but we can stay with Auntie Aida and her parents in Alexandria.”
“We’re going skiing,” I said.
“Oh,” said Natasha. “I thought you would jump at the chance of going to Egypt.”
I scratched my head, as tendrils of panic wandered up my legs. I hated making choices like this.
“I’m pretty sure Dad hasn’t booked yet. In fact I know he hasn’t because we’ve not decided where to go yet. I suppose…”
“You should go, Rhory. We should both go. Egypt’s hot. Don’t you think that might have something to do with the fire you were told about?”
I continued scratching my head.
“Egypt is certainly South.” A nervous chill ran right through me. My hand started shaking.
“I have a feeling,” said Natasha. “A sort of intuition thing. You need to do this.”
“I think so too, but it’s getting kinda scary now. I’ll need to clear it with Mum and Dad. Jules’ll go ballistic.”
We agreed I’d call her back once I’d found out if my parents knew anything about my Aunt Aida inviting me to go to Egypt.
“I don’t know, Rhory,” said Mum. “It’s a sort of family thing us all going skiing together.”
“You really would prefer hot, smelly Egypt to lovely cool alpine France?” said Juliette. “You must be an idiot. But then we knew that. And anyway, it’s really dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Rhory should make up his own mind. I spoke to Adam. His work takes him back and forth to Cairo all the time. He says Alexandria is abolutely fine. It’s a generous offer, though I must say it’s sort of come out of the blue,” said Dad.
“Anyway,” said Mum, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night, Rhory. Auntie Bridget’s death sort of drove it from my mind. Now I made a few notes when Aida called … let me see…” Mum rummaged around a small pile of papers near the phone. “Ah yes, here it is.”
My aunt had invited Natasha and me to travel with her to Alexandria. The Egypt tourist board were paying for the trip for both of them. They could convert their two first-class seats into four ordinary seats. Mum took off her glasses and smiled at me. “So it won’t cost you – that’s us of course –” she grinned at Dad – “anything more than a bit of pocket money.”
“You do what you like, Rhory. It’ll be much more peaceful skiing without you,” said Juliette. “Maybe now I could take a friend, Mum?”
“Do you really want to go, Rhory?” asked Dad. “Do you need to sleep on it?”
“No. I do want to go.” I said. “It’d be a sort of adventure. I’ve never actually been to Egypt.”
Juliette gave me her ‘I’ve caught you in a lie’ look, but didn’t say anything.
“Well, there’s no accounting for tastes,” said Mum, mangling her English a bit. “I’ll call Aida. Saves me spending out on ski pants for another year, so it’s a sort of win-win situation I guess.”
The Girl in the Tower
“Are you going to the party?”
“Yes, Nick, I’m glad that you’ll be there, it’ll be good to have a friend.”
“Actually, I’m not able to make it, mate. We have some sort of family do that night, and it’s a three-line whip that I attend.”
“Oh,” I said, a little cloud of disappointment settling in my stomach.
We were standing in the school courtyard. It wasn’t raining, but it was one of those days when the damp cold seemed to penetrate straight through my school jacket. I had my school bag wedged between my shoes. Nick rocked back and forth on his feet rubbing his hands together.
“Bloody ridiculous that we can’t stay inside during break. It’s flipping parky. Probably half the school will have pneumonia tomorrow.”
“How do you know this Seb bloke, anyway?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t really. We’ve met when I’ve played rugby against his school. He seems to have invited quite a few people from our class. He knows Bishop quite well, and I think that’s why. Bishop used to go to the same school as Sebastian.”
“It’s really weird, you know, because Juliette’s been invited to the same party. I mean, it’s like the first grown-up party that I’ve ever been to and my sister’ll be there as well.”
We shuffled around a bit more and checked our watches to find that our purgatory in the freezing courtyard had at least five more minutes to run. I huffed on my hands and stuck them under my armpits.
“Oh, by the way, I’m going to Egypt.”
“You’re what?”
I explained my Aunt Aida’s invitation.
“Personally, I would’ve chosen to go skiing,” said Nick.
The bell rang and we entered the cosy warmth of the school, which now provided the opportunity to learn more French verbs.
Gloom was descending fast as I crossed the main road and entered the park on the way home from school. The sky above had the colour of cold porridge and looked about as attractive. The wind had picked up and my parka let in some of its damp coldness. I wanted to get home as quick as possible and strode in a bee-line over the damp grass. My shoes and the bottoms of my trousers turned a speckled green colour from grass cuttings. The bandstand appeared brighter than the dull grey light that struggled to illumine the rest of the park.
Thinki
ng I saw someone moving inside, I stopped. It had to be a trick of the light. But as I turned to walk home I heard someone call from far away. I looked back at the bandstand. It now appeared as though someone had switched a light on, which was ridiculous, because it had no lights.
I made my way over and climbed up the steps. I could feel the damp wind on my back, but in front of me the air became warmer and drier. As I stepped inside, the sound of the wind dropped away. Once again someone called in the distance. I checked all around me, looking for anyone near the nursery school, or by the council offices, or over at the duck pond or the deserted swimming pool. I couldn’t make out anybody. In some strange way the distant voice had come from within the bandstand itself. I leant my school bag against one of the pillars of the entrance.
After moving a few steps onto the bandstand stage area I closed my eyes and, holding my breath, listened inside. Something rustled.
“Bonjour.”
I opened my eyes and stepped back quickly, bumping into a curtain and a hard wall. Sitting at a table in front of me was a girl, her hair gathered in a headdress. Her clothes were dark green and definitely not of now. Or last year. Or last century. She looked like a child left behind when her father saddled up to fight in the crusades.
She smiled and nodded. Once more she said, “Bonjour.” And then, “Tu va bien?”
With my hands pressed against the curtain and the wall I scanned the circular room. It was only a little bit bigger than the bandstand. Instead of the space through which I had entered, wooden doors filled a stone archway. Two windows let in sunlight, which illumined the tapestries covering the walls on the far side.
I said, “Who are you?”
She frowned, and slowly shook her head.
“Tu es Rhory!”
Then she took a long breath and stared at me. Inside I heard the words, ‘You are Rhory? I am Ariane. You are the last of us, aren’t you?’
Now I started shaking, but whether from the cold in the park or in this strange stone room I couldn’t tell. My mouth had become quite dry. I concentrated.
“N’est-ce pas?” she said out loud.
I concentrated as my legs quivered. Outside, a flock of birds swirled past the window. Distant rooftops glowed in the evening sunlight. We were high up, in some sort of tower. I looked back at the girl and connected with her brown eyes. She waited.
‘Yes, the last I think. There are six before me.’ I formed the thoughts as clearly as I could.
She smiled as she held up a crystal scarab beetle, the one that had belonged to the Egyptian priestess.
‘She is the first. Susan.’
‘Shoshan,’ I said out loud. “Yes, she is Shoshan.”
‘The Lotus!’
‘The Lotus,’ I agreed within, for that is what the young priestess’s name meant. She’d been the first person from another time to make contact with me. I’d seen her offered as a sacrifice to a vicious wild boar only a month or two earlier.
I smiled and nodded.
Ariane held up the bag of polished stones that I knew so well. In fact this bag, looking somewhat older, even now rested in my wardrobe, tucked inside an engraved silver sphere.
I nodded and smiled and we both shared the thought-word ‘Dimitris’.
Ariane smiled back. She held up her hand, and on the right index finger a silver thimble sparkled in the sunlight. She pointed to herself as she placed the thimble in front of her on the table.
The scarab, the bag of ten stones and the thimble each rested in a circle of inlaid wood on the tabletop. Just as I’d seen in the temple deep below the bandstand, six circles surrounded a central seventh. Ariane moved something from her lap and held it on her palm so it glistened in the light. I recognised the silver pommel of the sword that I’d found with the other objects, hidden inside the time sphere. With a flourish of her hand Ariane placed the silver pommel in the central circle.
Immediately, the whole chamber darkened and became freezing cold. The walls of the room faded away and Ariane vanished. Instead of the light from the setting sun, a bright moon illumined everything. Where the Hammerford council offices ought to be, a hill blocked out much of the light of the stars. At the top, bare rock glimmered in the cold blue light. Seen from below it had the shape of a kneeling man, a huge kneeling man.
Tiny ice crystals formed on the sleeves of my parka. My breath floated in front of my face, a little cloud of warmth rapidly defeated by the bitter cold. I tried to stamp my feet as my toes were losing all sensation. I stood about six inches deep in crusty snow. Forming a wide circle all around me, jagged stones of granite stood like some giant’s silvery teeth.
I’d no idea what land I was in and what time I was in. Worse than that I didn’t have the vaguest notion about how to get back to Hammerford Park. My shivering had taken on epic proportions. I quivered from head to foot and couldn’t feel my fingertips. I rubbed my hands together and blew on them.
‘Move to the door.’
The voice inside me had to be Ariane’s.
As I’d walked straight into the bandstand I judged that the entrance lay directly behind me. I turned through one hundred and eighty degrees. My shadow spread as a pale smudge on the snow in front of me. Looking around the stone circle, the unblemished surface of the crisp white snow revealed no other footprints. I stepped in the direction of the bandstand opening. Five crunchy paces later I stopped. I could hear something. I looked to my left. Somewhere in the distance a tiny light shone, reflected back from snow-heavy trees and what might be a hedge.
A voice spoke. The circle had no one in it but I could hear something breathing. Whatever it was, wheezed to my right. The voice again, from the other direction. I twisted round. Just beyond one of the stones in the circle, a figure stood motionless, picked out by moonlight. His padded coat, white with embroidery at its edge, looked much warmer than my winter coat. A tall furry hat on his head shaded his face from the moonlight. His breath floated around his head. I couldn’t make sense of what he was doing as he raised his right arm level to his shoulder and extended his left straight towards me. The moonlight glinted on a rod or thin pole in his left gloved hand.
Effing heck, he’s going to shoot at me with a bow and arrow.
A squeal and a huff sounded to my right.
I lunged forward, ducking as I did so. The snowy landscape vanished as the moon disconnected. The steps leading from the bandstand were at my feet and I stumbled down them. All around me the air felt as warm and balmy as a summer evening on holiday. The snow on my shoes melted. I eased my way back up the first three steps and reached for my satchel.
A voice floated by, saying something like, ‘hearken, hearken’. I spun around, to see who had spoken. The park remained empty. Not even dog walkers were out and about. Above me the clouds sucked the last of the light from the sky and the damp breeze became cold once again.
Sensation didn’t return to either my numb toes or my fingertips until I had reached home. Mum commented on my ruddy complexion and asked if I’d run all the way. I mumbled something, fixed myself a hot cup of tea and beat a retreat to the safety of my bedroom.
I sat on the bed and tickled Jester’s ears. He purred, and then for reasons of his own, scratched my hand and jumped off the bed. I stared at the closed door to my wardrobe. Behind it I could visualise where the silver sphere, with its ancient objects, lay in a box hidden under an old pullover. I sighed. I now knew for sure that defeating the fat old priestess back in ancient Egypt hadn’t been the end of things. Maybe, only the beginning.
I cradled the hot tea in my hands and grimaced.
Judge Circle
Sweden – about 1520
The arrow thrummed through the air and smacked into the hay bale. The girl watched for a while, standing with her feet planted asunder, as white feathers drifted past. She pulled up another arrow from where it was stuck in the snow next to her boots, drew the string back steadily, keeping her left arm straight and still, and a moment later the second arrow
quivered right next to the first. A white chicken feather settled on her hair and another touched her cheek. She brushed it away and turned.
“See, Inge, I’m getting really good.”
The young woman sitting on folded sacking on the steps leading down from the kitchen, smiled.
“You are, Eira, you are. Mind you don’t get too cold now.”
Inge’s breath floated in the air. She rubbed her fingers together to keep the blood circulating. Plucking a chicken couldn’t be done wearing mittens, just as shooting an arrow couldn’t. Her fingerless gloves helped, but the cold seeped up from the frozen stones below her. She stood up, clutching the half-plucked chicken to her pinafore and stamped her feet, before sitting down once more. Feathers floated off in all directions and settled in the rutted snow of the large courtyard.
Charcoal, the children’s black cat, had emerged from the warmth near the kitchen range and nuzzled her. She shoved it away and it skittered down the steps before walking, tail erect, towards the nine-year-old archer.
Eira landed another arrow close to the first two and walked over to retrieve her shafts. The sound of hoof beats caused her to stop and stare across towards the archway at the far end of the yard. The wooden doors to the courtyard stood open. A man rode in, ducking slightly under the archway. His dappled grey horse whinnied and skittered sideways a pace or two.
“Stable-boy, ho,” he shouted, turning the horse to ride out towards the front of the house.
Inge stood-up when the gentleman arrived, for Kaleb Pettersson was an important man, the biggest landowner in these parts and someone known for his abrupt manner and short temper. The chicken bounced off her knees and landed on the thin snow and frozen mud of the courtyard.
Ralf came out from the stables at the far side of the yard, with a pitchfork in his hand. “Did someone call?” He addressed Eira, who just shrugged and nodded towards Inge.
The young woman retrieved the chicken, brushed it down and pointed to the gate.
“Get on with you, Ralf, Mr Pettersson won’t brook no waiting now,” said Eira.
Time Knot Page 4
