by Jeff Mills
“There, I told you!” interjected the gardener, standing up from his chair and waving his arms about. “It’s the Beast of Exmoor what did it. I knew it all along. My friend George Pulter, he’s a farmer near Simonsbath on Exmoor, lost five head of sheep to the beast. They had their throats bitten through, and footprints like you said were seen around the corpses.” As he said this he gripped his neck and pretended to pull a handful of it away.
“I’m sorry,” apologised the man called Mike, “but who or what is the Beast of Exmoor?”
“Ain’t you ever heard of it?” exclaimed the gardener! “You must be new ’round here ’cos everyone’s heard of the Beast, and lots of people claim to have seen it too. The Beast of Exmoor is s’posed to be a large cat-like animal, about the size of a panther. Some folk who claim to have seen it say, it’s a dark shadowy animal that preys on the sheep up on the moors, but some have seen it wandering around in other areas, even killing pets. One person claimed it had even killed their daughter, though the police at the time weren’t convinced of this.”
“That’s very interesting,” said Mike, “but that still does not explain the other tiny prints we found everywhere, even inside the gnome houses and on their roofs. It’s as if there was a stampede of very small animals that ran everywhere.”
“Goblins!”
“What was that?” the man called Bill exclaimed, nearly spilling his coffee and he looked around to see from where the small high-pitched voice came from. Everyone else stopped talking and also looked around.
“Goblins!” The little voice came again. Everyone turned to face the owner, since that was the direction from where the voice seemed to emanate. She, in turn, looked around as if to say “It wasn’t me!” but her face was bright red and when, for a third time, the voice said “Goblins!” she dropped her eyes.
Very gently and carefully she put her hand into her apron pocket and slowly pulled it out. As she lifted up her hand, she opened the palm and there, sitting in the centre, dressed in short pink trousers, a bright green jacket and a brilliant red, pointed hat was a very small figure. Looking very embarrassed, and trying to avoid everyone’s gaze, the owner said quietly,
“This is Chipper. He’s a gnome. A very young one, you understand, but he is the only one that was not captured.”
Everyone stood motionless as they looked at the tiny figure. The two forensic men and the gardener rubbed their eyes to make sure that they were not seeing things. The owner and the two women helpers just looked at each other, not knowing what to say or do, after all, they already knew of Chipper’s existence. though they hadn’t confessed it to anyone in case they were thought to be mad.
It took several minutes for the shock to wear off, during which, Chipper just sat on the owner’s palm, taking in the scene as if nothing had happened. Eventually, the man called Bill coughed and said very authoritatively,
“Well now! I think that not everyone here has been telling the truth and it’s about time that you came clean on what really happened here last night. So, who’s going to start?”
Thus saying, he sat down on the edge of the table and took a big slurp of his coffee, however, everyone noticed that his hand was shaking as he lifted the cup to his lips.
Over the next few minutes the owner and the two women helpers, plus the occasional interruption and correction from Chipper, explained, as far as they knew, what had happened, while the two forensic men listened in astonishment to the tale of how the Gnome Reserve was raided by a witch, a large ferocious cat, a golden retriever dog, and a whole army of Cornish goblins. Chipper was very keen to point out that Cornish goblins do not like to be called Goblins but rather “Bucca”, as that was their ancestral name in Cornish.
At the end of the explanation, the two men were speechless and looked at each other, both totally flabbergasted. Eventually Bill cleared his throat and said,
“I suppose that we had better inform the detective in charge about this.”
Looking at his colleague he asked,
“Mike, who’s in charge of this case?”
The forensic officer looked at him very sheepishly and then said after a short pause.
“I think it’s D I Hyde,” and then he burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Bill questioned, but then suddenly realised the dilemma they were in. How were they going to report that they had been interviewing a baby gnome, who had told them that the crime had been committed by a witch, a freaky cat, a dog and an army of Cornish goblins? He put his hand to his head and also now laughing exclaimed,
“They’ll never believe us. They’ll think that we’ve lost our minds. I think that we can say bye-bye to our pensions if this gets out. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a stiff drink.”
At this suggestion the gardener looked up eagerly but when nothing was produced, resumed looking down at his feet.
“Better not!” warned Mike. “We’re on duty and you try telling this story with whisky on your breath then you can definitely say cheerio to your pension.”
When at last the two men settled down they thanked the owner and Chipper for their help and went outside to retrieve the plaster cast of the footprints they had taken earlier. They commented to each other that it was lucky they took the imprint when they did as the rain storm had almost destroyed what was left.
After collecting their gear and repacking it into two medium suitcases, they went back to the reception area, thanked everyone again, explained that someone would be in touch with them and started to leave. Suddenly, Mike stopped, and, diving back into his case, he pulled out a camera that he used for recording crime scenes.
“Would the little fella mind if I took a photo of him?” he enquired, looking at the owner and Chipper. The owner looked very doubtful and was going to say no, but then the forensic man said that it would greatly help the investigation and would be kept totally confidential. Eventually she agreed, after confirming it with Chipper, so carefully, the photo was taken. Mike actually took three photos as he could not be sure that his hand was not shaking on the first two. With a polite wave, the two men retrieved their bags, picked them up and walked down the drive to their waiting car.
Mike was heard to say as they left,
“We’re going to be the laughing stock of the whole station. At least the photos will give us some proof but can you imagine what will happen when the press gets to hear about this. They’ll have a field day.”
Bill suddenly started to laugh and amidst a coughing fit he chortled, “We’ll have to get Sherlock Gnomes on the case.”
His companion joined him in riotous laughter and banged him on his back to help stop the coughing.
With tears streaming down their faces they wearily climbed into their car and drove off, their laughter still echoing as they travelled down the road.
They were just rounding the first bend when a rather wet and bedraggled young girl with a soggy notebook in her hand, stepped from behind a large oak tree and started to make copious notes on her pad while holding a mobile phone between her ear and shoulder.
Chapter 13
Excalibur
Hugo had only been asleep for what seemed minutes, when he was awoken by a small crash. He opened his eyes and turned around to see the shape of Bird, outlined by the moonlight that was streaming in through his bedroom window.
“What’s up?” Hugo enquired excitedly, becoming instantly awake.
“Oh, I’m sorry to wake you,” Bird whispered, “but I tripped over your shoes. You must learn to be tidier.” Hugo ignored this comment, as it sounded just like his mother saying it.
“Where have you been and what have you been doing?” he asked eagerly.
“I’ve been making enquiries about the goblins and how many of them have joined Morgana. It’s not good. From what I can ascertain, most of the Okehampton family and all of the Bude lot have come over,
which is surprising, because they are nearly always fighting each other. I don’t know what that evil witch has promised them so that they put aside their differences, but it must be quite a lot, because goblins are extremely hard to please and are very selfish.”
The two were silent for several minutes, lost in thought about why the goblins should suddenly take up sides with Morgana. Hugo suddenly roused himself and asked Bird if he had managed to get back into the cave to find out what was happening to the gnomes. Bird answered that he had started to venture in from the entrance close to Hugo’s house, but as it was growing dark the witch and the goblins were becoming more active, so he decided to wait until the morning when she, and hopefully they, would be sleeping. It did mean that the gnomes were at very high risk during the night but there was very little that he could do, unless a miracle happened.
Silence fell again and Hugo’s eyes were beginning to droop when he remembered the brooch he found. Suddenly, with renewed energy, he sat up straight and said to a very subdued Bird,
“Oh, Bird. Have a look at this. I found it on the floor of the cave where the coffins had been when we first went there. It was a bit grotty then, and caked in dirt, but I cleaned it up earlier and I think that it looks quite interesting.”
Jumping off the bed he opened his dressing table drawer, pulled out the sock he had hidden the brooch in and shook it out onto the bed. The bright golden object tumbled and bounced on the mattress until it came to rest at the edge of Hugo’s pillow. Even in the dim moonlight that streamed through the window it seemed to sparkle and glow. Hugo snatched it up and tossed it into the air, watching it spin and flash as it went. He caught it in his right hand and holding it by its edge, he held it in front of Bird’s eyes which suddenly widened, so that they looked like saucers. Bird snatched the find from Hugo’s fingers and rushed over to the window so that he could see better, but as he did so a cloud obscured the moon and the whole room collapsed into darkness.
“Quick! Put on your bedside lamp!” insisted Bird.
“What is it? What is it?” Hugo whispered, as loudly as he dared and he stretched over and turned on his bedside lamp. Bird shuffled as close to the lamp as he could without getting burnt by the bulb and carefully twisted and rotated the item in the glow.
“What is it? What is it?” Hugo almost shouted in desperation and tried to push Bird aside so that he could also look. Eventually Bird settled back and sighed.
“I think, my very good friend, that I said just now that we needed a miracle. If this is what I think it is, then we might have one.”
“What d’you mean?” exclaimed Hugo anxiously. “What is it, or what do you think it is?”
“What do you know about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?” Bird quizzed. Hugo looked a little taken aback.
“I saw the film ‘The Sword in the Stone’…, twice,” replied Hugo with a look of puzzlement on his face and query in his voice. “Is that what you mean?”
“Sort of,” replied Bird with a little chuckle. He settled himself on his haunches and started to tell Hugo about the legend of King Arthur, his famous Knights and the even more famous Round Table.
* * *
“In the early sixth century, so legend has it, Uther Pendragon, a Celtic king fell in love with Ygerma, the wife of the Duke of Gorlais of Cornwall, the most south westerly province of the British mainland. Merlin, Uther’s wizard and apothecary, disguised Uther as the Duke of Gorlais so that Ygerma was tricked into thinking that he was her husband when he secretly came to her bedchamber in the castle of Tintagel in Cornwall.
On the following day, a battle took place and the Duke of Gorlais was suspiciously killed. Uther immediately seized his opportunity and married Ygerma. They soon had a son whom they called Arthur, and they lived in the castle at Tintagel, whilst Merlin lived in a cave below the castle walls.”
Bird broke off, and explained to Hugo that it was still possible see the remains of what might have been the castle, perched on the edge of the cliffs at Tintagel, with many caves below it, but which one was Merlin’s, nobody knows for sure.
Hugo looked excited so Bird continued,
“When Arthur was fifteen, his father died, and there was much infighting amongst his relatives over who was to take the crown. By law and tradition, Arthur, being the rightful heir, should have inherited, but he was young and these were troubled times. His relatives did not think him capable of leadership. However, the thirst for power for themselves was the main over-riding reason.
Merlin devised a plan to decide the conflict, but in reality it was ensure that Arthur was given the throne. He implanted a sword in a stone and proclaimed, that anyone who could draw the sword from the stone would be the rightful king.
Knights and noblemen came from every corner of the country to try to withdraw the sword, but everyone failed. That is until the young Arthur was asked by his uncle to go and get him a new sword, as he had broken his own in an earlier joust. Arthur, seeing the sword in the stone, went up to it, and with ease pulled it from the stone. He gave the sword to his uncle who recognised it. After much questioning, he proclaimed Arthur the rightful king. From thereon, Arthur went on to win many battles against the Saxons, Picts and Irish so that he could succeed in his dream to fully restore his kingdom.
It was at one of these battles that the sword he had pulled from the stone broke in two. Merlin told Arthur to row out into the centre of a small lake, reputed to be bottomless, called the Dozmary Pool. It was thought to be situated around the Jamaica Inn area on Bodmin Moor, a very remote and wild area of what is now Cornwall.
On Arthur’s arrival at the lake, an arm emerged from its depths holding in its hand, a glistening sword which it presented to the king. Arthur accepted the magical sword which had been named ‘Excalibur’ by the Lady of the Lake, with the condition that, on his death it must be returned to the lake.
This jewelled and ornate sword was said to have special properties which made the carrier invincible in battle. It also conferred great wisdom on its owner, which appeared to be borne out by Arthur’s military successes.
Later in life, he met and married Guinevere, a lady of noble descent, who, was reputed to be, the most beautiful woman in England at that time. As his kingdom grew, he set up his court at a site called Camelot, which many historians believe to be located near Camelford, a village in Cornwall. This is disputed and some claim that the court of Camelot was in fact at Cadbury Castle, an early Iron Age hill fort in, what is now Somerset, which is about one hundred miles from Camelford. Wherever it was, however, he arranged for the famous round table to be built so that, while seated at it, none of the knights or barons there could ever be said to be superior to anyone else.
Just before he died, Arthur ordered Sir Belvedere, one of his most trusted knights, to take the sword, Excalibur, and to return it to the Dozmary Pool from where he had received it. As Sir Belvedere threw Excalibur back into the lake, it is said that, ‘the hand of the Lady of the Lake emerged from the water and caught it, before she, and it, disappeared below the surface, never to be seen again.’
“Until now, that is,” choked Bird, his voice quite croaky after talking for so long.
“What do you mean, until now?” questioned Hugo excitedly, but Bird coughed and asked Hugo if he could get him a drink. Hugo looked around for something to give to Bird, then suddenly thought of the bottle of juice that his mother had packed for him for his ‘picnic’, earlier that day that still lay in his rucksack, but where was his rucksack?
He looked around his room but could not see it, then he remembered that he had kicked it under his bed, so, dropping to the floor, he went on all fours and with a muffled shout of “Got it!”, he scrambled back onto his bed, pulling at the zip as he did so.
Bird quickly drained the bottle and Hugo could see the large bulges of the juice work their way down Bird’s long neck until he gave a fluff of his fe
athers, made himself comfortable and, holding the brooch out before him continued.
“I have just told you that Arthur’s sword Excalibur was highly jewelled, but it was not just the sword. The scabbard was even more intricately adorned. Legend has it, that at the top of the scabbard was a large gold amulet or talisman that was the source of the power of the sword. It was rumoured that, before Sir Belvedere threw Excalibur back into the Dozmary Pool, he removed the talisman from the top of the scabbard and kept it for himself. Folklore tells of many battles and killings to try to get the talisman from Sir Belvedere and his descendants, but its actual whereabouts became lost in time. However, during my imprisonment with Kadavera, I often heard her muttering on about her inheritance, and that if she ever found it again then nothing would stop her from bringing death and destruction on those who had wronged her and her friends.
I may be very mistaken, but I think that what you have here is not a brooch but the very same talisman from the scabbard of Excalibur. If I am right, then, as I said at the beginning, this may be the miracle that we’ve been looking for.”
As he finished, he took the gold disc, held it out in front of Hugo, and pointed to the large engraved sword held by a hand on the one side, then slowly turning it, he indicated the picture of the lion with snakes as a mane.
“This is a picture of a Chimera,” he explained to Hugo.
“A ky whata?” Hugo asked with a very puzzled look on his face.
“A C h i m e r a,” Bird pronounced slowly. “A Chimera is a creature that is made up out of two or more different animals. So here you have a lion and some snakes. You’ve heard of centaurs; they are a type of Chimera but made up of a man and a horse.”
“What’s so special about a Chimera then?” Hugo pronounced the word falteringly.
“Chimeras were often mentioned in ancient Greek mythology. It was said that anyone looking upon a Chimera would have bad luck but those owning the image of one would have control over it and have good luck, hence many talismans were made with the image of a Chimera to bring good fortune to its owner and destruction to their enemies. What we have here, I think, is the talisman that is described in legend, as that which was mounted at the top of the scabbard of Excalibur.”
