by Gill Jepson
*
They had settled down to sleep when Rob was disturbed again. A scrambling noise outside awoke James as well. Someone was outside. Instinctively, James wrapped up the chalice in sacking and clutched it to his chest.
“Who is it?” he whispered, “Can you espy through the window?”
Rob peered through the streaky glass.
He jumped back quickly. It was not a sight he had hoped to see again. The night gargoyles were even more potent and evil in this century it seemed to him. They were scraping around the yard and in the outbuildings and across the yard he could see Silas silhouetted against the moonlight. He shivered involuntarily.
*
Tom climbed down from the loft room and was in the process of dressing. He looked dishevelled and concerned. Rob put a finger to his lips to silence him. James indicated that he had the chalice safe. The three crept to the side of the wall away from the small window. Rob was glad for the first time that eighteenth century houses did not have large windows. A whispered conversation ensued and the three decided what to do next.
*
Tom beckoned them into the small scullery at the back of the cottage. He glanced through the even tinier window to see if the creatures were about. All was quiet and the small cottage garden was empty. They carefully opened the scullery door and slipped silently into the night. They made their way across the field and away from the cottage. James was between them but he struggled to keep up their pace. The ground was uneven and had it not been for the bright moon casting its silver light they would have found it impossible to find their way. Tom knew the land well and steered them towards the coast. The Concle was the only place he could think of in which to lay low. They reached the path along the edge of the cliff and ran as fast as they could along it, dragging poor James with them.
“By God! I doubt I have been required to use this much energy since I was supervising the building of the railway. I trust we will reach the destination soon… or I will surely expire?”
“We are close by… keep moving… we are easy spotted here and dawn will soon be breaking,” encouraged Tom.
*
They clambered over rough ground and emerged at the old inn. Its brooding presence did nothing to encourage them but they pushed on any way. Tom pounded on the door as hard as he could. They waited for what seemed ages until they heard Jackson cursing behind the door.
“’Tis me, Tom! Let us enter!” he demanded.
The door flew open revealing a surprised John Jackson.
“I had not thought to see thee this soon lad!”
“Nor I you! But we are sore pressed. Let us come in!”
They entered the inn and Jackson slammed shut the door behind them.
He picked up his tallow candle, which spat and spewed smoke from its wick. They stumbled through to the main room and collapsed onto the chairs and benches. James pulled out the handkerchief to wipe his brow. His breathing was rapid and his face was glistening with beads of sweat. They recounted the night’s events quickly.
“Well lad, I think this is not the place to hide! They know well my association with thee now.”
Tom nodded.
“But we had nowhere else to go… and we had to protect the chalice…”
“How can thou…”
The words were obscured by a sudden noise from the passage. The door had flung open and the familiar scratching noises echoed around the slate flag floor.
Everyone froze and James had a horrified expression on his face. He was not in any fit state to run further.
Jackson and Tom raced to the door to bar it with the oak settle. As they reached it to close it firmly a scrawny arm and claw like hands pushed through the gap. They heaved with all their might and shoved the heavy door shut. The arm shattered like glass and shards of sandstone fell to the floor. An unearthly scream pierced the night like a dagger. Rob shuddered. The creatures clamoured at the door and rattled the lock. He rushed to add his weight, as did James. They managed to wedge the heavy settle that they had dragged across the room, against the door. The door creaked and bulged with the supernatural strength of the evil creatures. Tom pushed his weight against it and called to Jackson to show them the trap door. He lifted the door with the metal ring and pushed James and Rob into the disused cockpit. He handed down a candle and then told them how to exit through the concealed doorway. Rob hesitated and looked back at Tom wistfully… how would he manage to stave off the attack with only the old man?
*
“Go Rob! Just get thee gone!” he cried anticipating Rob’s protests. “Get thee away… ’twill be dawn soon enough and these devils will lose their magic with the rising sun! Go…”
“I…” no words would come. Rob knew that he would probably not see him again… at least not in this life.
Tom smiled and then turned his attention back to the door. Jackson grinned and shut the trap door. They could hear furniture moving – it sounded as though something heavy had been dragged over the trap door.
James hurried him along and they entered the secret passage which led them back out to the coast. It was dark and the wind, which blew from the entrance, caught the candle flame and extinguished it.
“That’s all we need!” exploded Rob.
“Keep on… I believe I can see light ahead… we must be close to entrance.”
Sure enough they emerged onto the banking above the beach. Rob understood how useful this tunnel must have been to the smugglers. They emerged into the pale yellow and pink light of dawn. The insipid colours were growing in strength and a liquid golden sun emerged above the horizon. Both James and Rob breathed a great sigh of relief as they realised that the creatures would now expire. On cue they heard a dreadful blood curdling howl from the gargoyles back at the inn. At least they knew that Tom and Jackson would be safe now.
They turned to find their way back and saw to their horror that Silas Dixon was emerging from the tunnel. He faced them with an animal like roar.
“Give back that which is mine!”
James threw the package to Rob who caught it deftly.
“Run Rob… I will hold this devil while you make good your escape!”
Rob looked doubtful. He was concerned for James… how could he fight off Dixon who was built like one of his solid barns.
“Go I say! I shall endure!”
Rob turned and ran. He looked behind him to find the first mayor of Barrow grappling with Dixon like a ‘WWF wrestler’! Just went to show, you really should not judge a book by its cover.
He ran and ran. He was not sure where he was going, but as he got further from Silas he became more positive. He looked back again. This time the two figures were obscured by a vortex of dust and sand. He watched in slow motion as the vortex moved relentlessly towards him. All sense left him and he floated in his dream state, hearing distant voices and seeing vivid images pass before him. He clung to the chalice for dear life, the only thing tangible and real. In the distance he could see a room. It was one he was unfamiliar with.
*
The room sharpened and became clear, just like when you adjusted the settings on the television. He could see a familiar figure laying on a bed, beside him a concerned young woman. It was George. His face was colourless and he had dark rings around his eyes. He was thin and wasted and unconscious. His mother’s face was drawn and weary and Rob wondered how many days she had been nursing him in this way.
The boy in the bed stirred. He was fitful and feverish. His mother wiped his forehead with a cool flannel and spoke soft words to him. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright and pointed at him. Rob jumped. He had not expected to be seen. George’s mother looked to where he was pointing puzzled.
“George, what’s wrong? There’s nobody there…”
“Creatures… beware … the creatures…” he panted.
Rob smiled and said quietly, “There are no creatures… we have beaten them!”
“No! They’ll stop you… watch out!” he was very agitate
d.
His mother looked again and for a fleeting moment Rob almost believed she could see him too. Their eyes connected. Her brilliant blue eyes damp with tears of concern. He wanted to call out to her and tell her it would be alright.
George fell back on his pillow and drifted into a deep sleep again.
*
Rob was overcome with giddiness and nausea again as he drifted on through time itself. He arrived at his destination with a thud. He was in Abbot’s Wood once more. There was no sign of James or his magnificent Victorian villa. He hoped for a second that he had arrived home. It became rapidly apparent that he was not ‘home’. Instead the wood was darker, denser and untamed. The silence in the wood was deafening and uncanny. The birds were silent and there was hardly a breath of wind. The sun was setting – his body clock told him this was wrong… he had just left the dawn at Rampside and goodness knew what time it had been in George’s house. He was totally disorientated. Something was amiss. He could hear no birds and usually at this time of day the birdsong was heard clearly. Malevolence had encased the woods; dark shadows pervaded the hollows and nooks within the trees and the night sky seeped like black ink blotting out the horizon. Within minutes it was as dark as a raven’s wing. An insipid crescent moon rose, shedding little light and tiny pinpricks of white light spattered the velvet sky like droplets of paint.
*
Rob pushed the chalice deeper into his pocket unconsciously attempting to hide it. Evil cast its heavy shadow around, invisible grasping fingers of darkness reaching for the bright treasure. He shivered as unseen eyes bored into his flesh like needles. He looked around like a fugitive, afraid of who or what he would see. He knew he was vulnerable in the open and he followed a well-worn path into the trees away from the clearing he had landed in. He could make no sense of his location, there were no landmarks that he recognised and even if he could see some, the darkness would have obscured them. He stumbled about in the undergrowth and wandered down the tree-covered hillside. He stopped at the bottom and tried to find his bearings.
*
A plaintive tune drifted from across the valley. The plain song was sweet and melodic, mournful and beautiful. This truly was music to his ears. He recognised it immediately as the Gregorian chants the monks made with only the human voice as an instrument. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he realised few people from his century would have ever heard such a pure and exquisite sound other than on recordings. He paused for a while drinking in the sound. Rob followed the direction the music was coming from, guessing that he would find some level of safety if he went to the abbey. As he stumbled closer and the trees thinned out he could see the shadowy shape of the abbey rising ahead of him. Pale lights flickered from behind windows, which rose into magnificent arches pointing their way to heaven. He was encouraged and staggered onwards over twisted roots and discarded logs. He reached an open meadow and the abbey revealed itself in its grandeur. The visitors’ lodge and Lady Chapel lay ahead, this building he did recognise and he made his way towards it. Unexpectedly, a figure bowled out of the shadows, running erratically towards him. A second followed and then a third. The first crashed headlong into him knocking him over.
*
Rob was winded and the chalice shot into the air revealing its gleaming beauty. It fell from its coverings and was visible, the gold and copper alloy glinting in the meagre moonlight. A gasp arose from the person who lay sprawled on the floor. The other two figures ran to his aid and the older one reached for the cup. Rob was quicker and caught the object deftly, wrapping it quickly and pushing it into his pocket.
“What treasure dost thou conceal lad? Cannot be thine… thou must have stolen it form the church!”
Rob looked at the man. He was dressed in a long white robe like John Stell but his face belied his evil ways. His eyes narrowed and his thin features were as immobile as the statues around the abbey walls. The other monks approached, imbued with courage from their brother’s challenge to the boy. They circled Rob like hyenas and his heart banged liked a hammer. These monks were of a different mettle than John Stell. They closed in on the boy and the elder monk – the one who appeared to be their leader drew a sharp knife from his leather bag on his girdle. It was obvious that this man would stop at nothing to acquire the golden object he had seen. Rob had the impression that he had already taken a life and that his would be no more to him than swatting a fly. Before the three could conclude their encounter he dodged between them and ran for his life. The adrenalin raced through every vein and he discovered how fast he could run, faster than he had ever run during a football match. He ran like the wind and sprinted past the abbey where services were still going on. The monks pursued him hotly and were determined to catch him and claim their prize. Rob ran through more trees and up a hillside faster than a mountain goat and just as fleet footed. As he reached the summit he suddenly realised where he was.
*
He was at the old quarry where the trouble had begun, where Nate had become strange and ill. The place was just as odd as it had been the last time he had visited it. An invisible energy hummed and buzzed. He touched his forehead to rub away the fuzzy headache he seemed to have acquired. The trees rustled and the monks broke through surrounding him once more. Rob was alarmed. He could see no way out this time. The sides of the hill were too steep to run down and he did not know where to go next. The elder monk wrested the chalice from his pocket, grabbing it so viciously that the jacket ripped. Just as he thought all was lost the hum of energy grew louder and was so brittle that it made his ears hurt. He gaped as the chalice fell from the monk’s hand. He grasped it as if it had burnt him and yelped with pain. The other two sprang back in fear.
*
The monk sank to his knees, pushed down by some invisible force. He grabbed hold of one of the sandstone rocks protruding from the ground and as he did so his face contorted into a horrible mask. He became one with the rock and with a terrible scream he was absorbed into it forever. The grimace was frozen and his moment of defeat recorded for all time. The other two blanched and began to run, but the supernatural power, which had vanquished their brother, claimed them too. Their demise was no less horrifying than his. Every cell was congealed and their blood, bones and sinews were solidified into the unyielding rock. The pain of their punishment was etched on their faces, which would be frozen for eternity, a testament of their treachery. The abbot’s blood was on their hands and the chalice had reminded them and caused them to be interred forever, imprisoned in stone but still aware. They would have centuries to contemplate their deeds… and their fate.
*
A bright light enveloped Rob and he floated like a feather, drifting on the waves of time, which encircled him like a protective mother’s arms. He could hear the chants from the abbey, flowing over him like ripples of water…
Procedamus in pace…
The crystal clear voices rose and fell in a language he did not understand, but the lyrical rich sound of the Latin words soothed him.
In nomine Christi, Amen
Cum angelis et pueris,
The perfect sound hovered just within his consciousness. He felt tired and he closed his eyes. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. Drifting on a cloud of nothingness and fading away to the sound of inspiring music. He was more completely relaxed than he had been since this adventure had begun…
fideles inveniamur
Drifting aimlessly… no cares
Procedamus in pace
In nomine Christi, Amen …
Let us proceed in peace, in the name of Christ Amen
CHAPTER 21
BACK TO NORMAL
Rob awoke and prised open his heavy eyelids apprehensively. He was drained of energy and was astounded to find he was in his own room, in bed. He looked down at his T-shirt… the one he had worn the night before the adventure. How long had he been away? How had he returned? So many questions and very few answers. He rubbed his eyes and had almost convinced h
imself he had dreamed it all when he spotted his jeans and Doc Marten’s. They were covered in dried mud and much of it had crumbled and fallen onto the carpet. He jumped when he remembered they had rescued the chalice… where was it? He leapt from his bed and rooted through the clothes he had dumped in a pile on the floor. Relief rushed over him as he found it, still wrapped in its coverings. He pulled it from the jacket and noticed the big tear in the pocket. So he had not imagined the events of yesterday… yesterday? It seemed much longer and he had seen too many dawns and sunsets to have only been away one day.
He scrambled to hide the chalice in the trunk beneath his window. He buried it beneath his prized possessions; nobody would know where it was… he hoped. He emerged from the bedroom looking as if he had been forcibly dragged through a hedge backwards. He wandered along the landing to see how his brother and sister were. Remarkably they were just stirring. He peered into Rebecca’s room. The girl was sitting up in bed; her hair tangled and knotted, but her cheeks a healthy pink again.
“You ok now?” he said gruffly.
She nodded slowly as if she was checking whether she did feel ok.
“Yeah… but I had some weird dreams… all about you looking for the chalice… and monks… and strange people from centuries ago… and those scary gargoyle things!” She shuddered at the memory.
He smiled. Somehow she must have seen what he had been through. It certainly seemed like a dream to him now.
“Well as long as you feel better… you had us worried,” he added.
Nate came out of his room and bounced across Rebecca’s bed. Evidently he was much better too. Rob was relieved.