by Gill Jepson
He turned to the three spirits, invincible and full of energy. They all smiled at him, reading his inner thoughts.
“Beware, my son, do not be fooled by thy power today,” said the old monk. “Thou hast much to endure and overcome and we shall not be with thee at every point.”
“Who are you… sir?” Nate was lost for the correct form of address to use when encountering a fifteenth century monk.
“I am Brother John Stell of Saint Mary’s abbey at Furness. I am the guardian of the abbey treasure and I am here to assist thee in finding that which is lost. These two goodly souls can help thee but the task is thine alone. Thou must discover the resting place of the true sword, which has long been hid.”
“But where can it be? It’s supposed to be in the Dock Museum!”
“The true sword liest where the keepers left it,” Brother John responded.
“But where…” began Nate.
The monk smiled benignly. Chris and Tom stepped back, fading into a welter of mist, their shapes diminishing to nothing but a whisper. Brother John grew paler, his image shimmered and Nate could see right through him. Finally, a small pinpoint of light gleamed and then disappeared leaving nothing but thin air.
CHAPTER 17
THE SUBSTITUTE
Christmas was on its way and he was going to the Carol Service at St Mary’s church at Dalton, mostly because Rebecca was performing. He wasn’t keen on going to church normally, but knew he would be able to hide among the congregation of school kids and parents. Secretly he quite liked it, but few of his friends would understand.
The church was a busy throng of people jostling to find seats or to get to their places for the concert. He was bemused by the number of people at the service of special remembrance and felt a lump in his throat as he noticed the star that they had put on the Christmas tree for Granddad. The service was exciting and uplifting, it echoed the feeling he had experienced when he had seen the three spirits in the churchyard.
At the interval he saw his sister run off to meet up with those pesky friends of hers. The place was bouncing with people and you couldn’t move without banging into someone. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, hardly believing his eyes. There just behind his sister was George… Granddad! Crazy! He struggled to fight his way through to reach them. He couldn’t believe that she had seen George too. He wondered why she hadn’t said something… but then he hadn’t mentioned it to her either. As he apologised for the twentieth time as he bumped into someone he lost sight of the kids, and as he pushed past more people he spotted another familiar figure. The monk was clearly visible in the distance surrounded by candlelight; the children were with him too.
Suddenly he felt light headed and dizzy, just as he had on the promontory at Aldingham. The air was sucked out of his lungs and blackness invaded his brain, spreading like ink until only a small point of light remained at the centre of his vision. As he drifted helplessly, weightless, he wondered if this was what it would be like to enter a black hole. Fear had dissolved; he floated in this dreamlike state, not caring about anything, until he hit the stone floor with a thud.
He was confused and muddled as he assessed his surroundings. He was surprised that he was still in the church, though less surprised that the people had gone and the furnishings and style were of an older time. He was not alone. There in the nave of the church were two men.
Nate called out but there was no response. Just as in the field when Chris had halted time. They could neither see nor hear him. Fascinated he moved closer. They were bent over an object and were speaking in hushed tones.
They were well dressed in old-fashioned suits, with shirts and ties and sturdy boots on their feet. Both were in their late fifties and appeared respectable. As Nate drew closer he saw a piece of sackcloth spread on the floor. On it lay some pieces of metal. His heart skipped a beat as he realised they were looking at the remnants of a sword… the Rampside sword? The pair were nervous and continually looked around them as though they expected someone… or something… to appear and halt their inspection.
“So, do you truly believe we can replace the sacred sword with this tawdry imitation, Harry?” asked the white-haired man.
“Aye, that I do, Will Jackson’s grandson will not speak of it again. Their family have had this sword in their keeping since the old man discovered it in 1855 at Rampside. A small payment will ensure its whereabouts remain unknown.”
“But will the museum accept this as the sword found by the Helms?” he pressed anxiously.
“Nobody but the Helms and I have seen it closely. Old Jacob Helm is true to the cause and he will keep quiet. Besides, Bill, it is close enough in age and shape to the sacred sword to pass muster,” replied Harry firmly.
“It must suffice then, though I see there are some differences, for instance there is no pommel and it’s somewhat shorter than the real sword.”
“Few know what it should look like but it is at least the correct age and style for a Viking sword.”
The shorter man, with greying hair and coffee brown eyes, smiled as he wrapped the pieces of metal carefully into the sacking.
A noise behind them made Nate jump and for a second he thought they could see him. The one called Bill seized the package and moved quickly to the church door and disappeared into the daylight outside. As Harry turned to leave a familiar mist appeared, silently spreading its tendrils along the nave, until it materialised into the now-familiar monk.
“My son, thou knowest what to do with Oswald’s sword?” he asked.
The man fell to his knees and looked reverently at John Stell. He nodded his head slowly.
“Aye I do, Brother, it is in hand. The sacred sword will rest where we discussed at Goadsbarrow. No-one will suspect it is there…” He smiled dryly. “It does seem a fitting resting place.”
“When it is safe I will pass on the secret to my trusted friend and we shall guard it through the ages.”
“Be sure that ye do, Harper, for ’tis vital it should not fall into the wrong hands,” urged the monk.
Now Nate knew who the two men were – the two antiquarians who had been mentioned in the paper, Harper Gaythorpe and William Kendall, pillars of Edwardian society, engaged in duping the generation to come by switching one important artefact for another. He chuckled to himself. All these years and nobody had even suspected it.
It had puzzled him for a while how the sword held at the Dock Museum had looked so different from its original photograph. The one securely wrapped in a box bore little resemblance to that splendid sword with a tang and pommel. In fact when he had seen it once on display, he had been disappointed. It resembled a lump of rusted metal and did not look at all sword-like. He knew that over time it had deteriorated but he did wonder how it had crumbled to just a hunk of rust. Now he knew! Those two old boys had substituted it.
Blackness pervaded his consciousness again and within moments he was back in the busy church amidst the thronging congregation. As he reflected quietly he felt a thump on the shoulder. He turned quickly, just catching sight of George skilfully dodging the groups of people and darting towards the vestry door. He grinned and waved and then was gone.
CHAPTER 18
RACE AGAINST TIME
He couldn’t believe what he had seen, but knew that each step took him closer to finding the sword. He suppressed excited bubbles each time he thought of it and had researched more about the two historians. They had cut quite a dash in Edwardian Barrow and were respected scholars. He was still puzzled why the sword was still lost. Surely Harper would have kept his promise and passed the secret on? He pored over the reports of the sword that he had found on the internet and in the library and it seemed that W.B. Kendall and Harper Gaythorpe were into all things historical.
He had even found a reference to the earlier sword being found by William Jackson. He could see that this could confuse people’s understanding of the sword and he was interested to see that it had indeed disappeared, or, as the report pu
t it, “its present whereabouts is unknown”. Well he knew exactly where it was! But that didn’t help him locate the true sword.
Further reading solved one problem. He discovered that in December 1909 Harper Gaythorpe, engraver, diesinker and illuminator, and erstwhile historian, had died suddenly from angina, only months after the sword was discovered. Nate immediately wondered if he had not completed the task of hiding the sword, or maybe he had, but had not had time to reveal its whereabouts to his friend.
He wondered, too, why Goadsbarrow had been mentioned. It seemed an unlikely place to hide a sword. It was a small place with a few coastal bungalows and houses, but he couldn’t imagine where you would hide something.
Again he found himself wishing that he could speak with Tom and Dolly. He returned to Rampside and Aldingham often, hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but to no avail. Frequently he shuddered with apprehension, as he was aware of being watched by unseen eyes.
It was a bright Saturday morning, not raining for once, but bitterly cold. He had ridden down to the coast road and had stopped for a breather at Goadsbarrow as he had done so many times. He swigged on his bottle of cola leaning against the sea wall and looking inland. A sleek black raven flew past, making him nearly drop the bottle; its movement drew his attention to the field across the road. It hovered momentarily and then finally came to rest on a rise in the field. Nate peered curiously at the bird. It stared back meaningfully and Nate paused. It was as though it was trying to tell him something.
He dashed across the road to the fence and looked more closely at the bird’s resting place. There was a distinct hump in the field, not huge but raised a little higher than the surrounding ground. He hopped over the fence into the field and went to investigate more fully. It looked like a long barrow or burial mound. He was excited, he had never noticed it before and all kinds of possibilities crept into his mind. He wondered how old it was and what it might contain, but better still, why nobody had ever excavated it.
He prowled around its edge and looked at its contours, imagining what amazing things could be buried in it. Abruptly the raven flapped its wings and rose into the sky, soaring above the mound and then disappearing. A voice broke the silence and Nate turned to see Tom.
“Oh my God! Brilliant! I thought I’d never see you again! Where’ve you popped up from?” he cried, elated.
“I have been searching this field for booty. Swarbrick is up to his tricks again and I have heard tell that he has buried his cache here. I was investigating and looking for signs of disturbance when I lost my balance and became hard pressed to keep my feet on the ground… and then I find I am here with thee!”
“Tell me about it!” Nate sighed, shaking his head.
“Methinks I just did?” replied Tom, mystified.
“Oh, forget it – it’s just a turn of phrase… anyway I’m glad you’re here, where’s Dolly?”
“She will be at home, her time is near, she is with child,” he smiled shyly.
Nate grinned. He couldn’t believe it. Tom’s first child was due to be born – the boy who would be his great, great … The mind boggled. If only Tom knew, he would be gobsmacked!
They exchanged news from the last few months, catching up on the quest for the sword. Tom expressed surprise that the sword had been swapped and he ventured that it could not be coincidence that he was here at this time. Nate nodded in agreement and he suggested they investigate further. Both lads wandered round the perimeter of the mound, unsure what they were looking for. They traversed the mound up and down until they had exhausted every curve. They sat down heavily at the base, leaning against the side. Nate drew a pack of sandwiches, a banana and bottle of coke from his bag. The two shared the sandwiches, which gained higher praise from Tom than the burger had done. However, when Nate handed him half of the banana he recoiled, unable to recognise it. Nate gestured him to try it, which he did tentatively. His worried expression melted and he smiled as he swallowed the last piece. However, he refused to share the coke, remembering the taste from last time.
They felt better once they were full and proceeded to examine the mound once more. They crawled around the edge, feeling the ground for any bumps or lumps. After half an hour of painstaking searching, Tom cried out. Nate scrambled over to him excitedly. There was a small depression at the base of the mound, virtually covered with grass; in the dip was a piece of sandstone, buried so deeply it had become part of the mound.
They dug frantically at the stone, sensing its significance. Tom pulled out his knife and dug around the stone, loosening the earth. After carving out a groove they were able to free the stone. They looked closely at it and found that on the face which had been hidden was a small, tarnished metal plate. The plate was engraved and the detail was quite remarkable. A beautifully shaped bird was depicted and each feather was clearly visible, the eyes, beak and feet stunningly real. The bird was a raven.
The winter night was drawing in quickly and the boys decided to pack up and return at a later date. They had not yet addressed the problem of where Tom would stay, but before they could decide anything a chill wind blew in off the tide. The waves were black and angry and huge dark clouds billowed and buffeted from the bay, bringing with them cold, biting rain. Nate turned to tell Tom that they should leave, when suddenly they saw a man on the darkening horizon. He was striding along the perimeter of the far field, sweeping a metal detector before him. Nate gasped in horror. It was Silas. He dragged Tom to the other side of the mound, pulling him out of sight.
They clambered over the fence, hoping they would not be seen. Nate ran to his bike which was leaning against the sea wall. He turned to speak to Tom and to his horror he saw one, two, three magpies flying out of nowhere, cackling loudly and drawing attention to them. The man stopped and looked across the fields towards them. He began moving quickly and threw down the detector. As if this wasn’t enough, Tom began to fade and diminish before his eyes. He was trying to say something as he disappeared but Nate was unable to catch it.
Soon no trace of Tom remained and Nate was alone again. Without a second thought he leapt on to his bike and began cycling along the coast road away from Silas Dixon. Nate rode as though the devil was in pursuit, without looking back. He skidded as he reached the roundabout. The rain drove him on with the wind roughly propelling him away from the sea and towards Rampside church. He didn’t stop until he reached Roose. He gasped for breath as he rode into the drive and put his bike in the garage. He leaned against the wall for a moment and collected himself before he went into the house.
That night his mind was full of questions – none of which he could answer. He looked out of the kitchen window to where Jeffrey was buried. The rain bounced off the bird bath and seemed to proclaim that a secret lay concealed there. A single bird landed on the rim of the bath and stood like a statue for an age. Nate watched as a golden light radiated from underneath the patio. Beads of sweat stood on Nate’s forehead as he worried that the light would draw attention to the hiding place. Almost as soon as the light had been emitted, it dimmed and disappeared and all was calm. The bird flew from its perch, being absorbed into the black night from which it had come.
CHAPTER 19
A DISCOVERY
He had slept late that morning, because he had not slept a wink. Mum had been yelling up the stairs for him to get up but he really didn’t feel like it. He lifted the curtain to take his first glimpse of the day and saw that it was snowing. Large white flakes fluttered down in feathery flurries, covering the ground quickly. Nate leapt from his bed, excited because a proper snowstorm was rare on the Furness peninsula, so he regarded it as his duty to make the most of it. He pulled on suitably warm clothes and raced downstairs to get breakfast. Everyone except his mother was out. Obviously they were all taking advantage of this extreme weather phenomenon.
He arranged to meet his friend Jake later and they spent some time sledging at the amphitheatre. Although it was cold, by the time they had run up the hill and sledg
ed down a few times they were quite hot and sweaty. They broke for a rest and sat looking over the busy field towards the abbey. The whole amphitheatre was milling with children, busy dragging colourful sledges behind them or flying down the hillside shrieking as they went. It was fun just watching. Jake was always a laugh, they had many adventures together and Nate wondered whether to share his recent exploits with him. He was about to mention something when a swishing of wings distracted him. The sleek, black bird swooped close to his head and both boys ducked to avoid it hitting them. The raven landed gracefully just in front of them and faced the abbey buildings. Their line of vision was drawn towards the cloister range where there seemed to be a kerfuffle going on down there. It was hard to see clearly because of the grey mist which shrouded the abbey and the snow obscured the buildings like interference on a television.
He sat up abruptly and peered hard, trying to make out what was happening. People were running across the cloister range and into the Chapter House. A man was running carrying a package, hotly pursued by a group of kids. He strained to see the children… he couldn’t believe what he was watching… it was George… and Rebecca, followed by those two friends of hers! What on earth was she doing? He stood to get a clearer view as they disappeared into the Chapter House.
Suddenly a brilliant light, whiter than snow, exploded from inside the Chapter House, casting radiance across the snow-covered lawn. Nate was taken aback and immediately worried for the safety of his sister. He bolted down the hill, leaving Jake and the sledges behind him. He raced to the perimeter fence and climbed over it, jumping down to the other side. He ran across the grass towards the Chapter House and as he reached the arch at the entrance he was astonished to see the children surrounding a large package on the newly laid snow. Next to them were the monk and George. Clearly something strange had happened. However, he would not find out the whole story for some time. Two other people appeared from God knows where, one was Mr Mason, the old groundsman from the abbey, the old lady he wasn’t sure. He felt suddenly out of place and retreated, hiding around the side of the cloister wall.