Ghosts of Yorkshire
Page 25
*
The boat bumped against the stone wall of the church and Sue only just managed to grab hold of a gargoyle on the roof edge to hold them in place.
‘John, the door’s underwater already – how are we going to get the stone inside?’
‘I’ll break a bloody hole in the roof if I have to,’ he said. ‘Richie’s life depends on it. I won’t lose another child to this bitch – however old or powerful she is.’
Sue said nothing, just held on tighter with gritted teeth.
John clambered on to the roof of the church. ‘Pass me the stone.’
‘How? I need both hands to hang on!’
‘I’ll hold on to the boat. Just put the stone on the roof.’
Sue let go, noticing John’s knuckles turn white as he took the strain from his awkward position. She needed both hands and a knee to heave the hearthstone up, and as soon as she let go it started to slide.
‘No!’ they both cried, and John let go of the boat’s gunwale to stop it slithering into the water.
‘John!’ Sue shouted and grabbed for the edge of the church roof. Her momentum forced the boat from under her and she splashed into the water, kicking hard to help herself gain purchase on the wet, slippery slate tiles. Lightning and thunder cracked overhead.
‘Sue!’
‘Get the stone inside, I’m okay.’
‘No, grab my hand.’
‘John, please, this could mean Richie’s life.’
John said nothing, but turned himself around, his leg securing the stone. He began the laborious task of pushing it up the steep roof, but every inch he gained was immediately lost again. The roof was too wet, too mossy, and too steep. He had no choice but to begin prising away slate tiles where he was.
‘They won’t budge – they’re fixed tight,’ he called.
‘Then smash them!’ Sue had managed to get a leg on to the roof and hauled herself to safety.
‘Grab hold of the stone and brace yourself, don’t let it slip.’
She shuffled over and used her body as a brace between the stone and the gargoyle she’d anchored herself to earlier.
John sat back and used the heel of his boot to smash the roof tiles. When he had a hole large enough, he started to push the hearthstone towards the gap.
‘John, no!’
‘What?’
‘Is the inside flooded?’
He peered through the hole. ‘I don’t think so, not yet – the water level’s still low.’
‘The stone can’t break, it’s our only chance. We need to wait until it’s deep. Then it can sink and stay in one piece.’
John looked at her. ‘You’re right, but can we wait that long?’ He glanced up as another flash of lightning lit them from above and cringed at the force of the thunder.
‘We have to.’
*
Old Ma Ramsgill continued her chanting of, ‘I bind thee, Jennet Scot, to this valley. Thee’ll do no more harm here. I bind thee Jennet Scot—’ She screamed as something knocked her down. Screamed again as her body broke. Then resumed her chant.
The storm above the valley intensified.
‘Got thee now, bitch,’ Ma whispered. ‘Got thee on t’ run – too busy celebrating thy freedom, forgot what was—’ She screamed again as lightning struck nearby.
‘Missed, bitch!’ She cackled into the sudden dark as the lights went out. ‘That’s all thee’s got? Terrorise my family, would thee? Ha!’
Another scream as her leg was twisted and she felt – and heard – another bone break. ‘Do what thee likes to me – I’ve lived a long life, more than thee ever did. Too late to stop me now!’
The fire flared and sparks leapt out into the room.
‘No!’ Old Ma Ramsgill screamed, louder than she had for sixty years. Sparks landed on the pile of journals and bred flames. As they took hold, Ma forced her broken body along the floor and reached out. She found her own journal, dragged it out of the inferno, beat it against the floor, then rolled on top of it to smother the flames. She passed out.
*
‘John!’ Sue screamed as lightning struck the steeple. ‘Do it now – she’s too strong.’
John glanced up at the sky then turned to Sue. ‘I don’t know if it’s deep enough.’
‘It has to be, just do it before she stops us.’
He nodded, once, then pushed the heavy stone towards the hole in the church roof.
Right at the edge he paused and looked at his wife. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Just do it.’
Lightning struck again, blinding them both.
As Sue’s sight slowly came back, she searched for her husband. ‘John? John? John!’ The last word was a shriek. He had gone.
Sobbing, she pulled herself to the hole in the roof and peered down. All was black. She could see nothing.
Lightning flashed again and she had a split-second image of John’s twisted body, floating face down in the water below.
‘Nooo! John, no!’ She turned her face to the sky as distant thunder rumbled and the church bell pealed.
Another flash. John still didn’t move. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t get to him and Richie needed a mother.
The bell continued to ring and she realised: it was Jennet. She’d claimed another victim, but the bell was the only way she could now express her fury.
The ringing faded. It was over. At least for now.
Soundlessly, Sue slid off the roof and into the water. She swam ashore, silent tears adding to the new Thruscross Reservoir. She was a widow but her son was safe. The only person left on this earth who carried Ramsgill blood.
16th August 1966 – 2:00 p.m.
‘Here thee goes, Ma,’ Wilf said, passing her a heavy carrier bag. ‘Don’t let the nurses see.’
Ma peered into the bag and grinned before pulling out one of many bottles of Oatmeal Stout. ‘That’s good of thee, this’ll do a damn sight more good than them pills they keep making me take.’
‘Don’t be daft, Ma. Everyone knows what thee did – thee’ll never have to pay for another drink in the Stonehouse, that’s for damn certain.’
‘Right, well give Sue one then and thee can bring some more tomorrow.’
Wilf chuckled as Sue walked back into the room and took the bottle Ma held out to her.
‘Is it really over, Ma?’
‘I bloody well hope so, lass. At least for now.’
‘What do you mean? Will she be back?’
‘She’s always managed it in the past. Just promise me one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t drink the bloody tap water and don’t let Richie have even a drop.’
‘What?’
‘That reservoir. It’s to supply drinking water. Don’t use the tap water and never let Richie – or his kids – drink it.’
Sue stared at her.
‘Jennet’s in there – in that water. She’s bound to it. If even a drop of Thruscross water makes it into the glass of a Ramsgill, Jennet will gain strength. Maybe enough to come back.’
21st August 1966 – 2:00 p.m.
‘Ey lass, thee’s a good ’un to visit me every day as thee does.’
‘Ma, Ma, Ma!’
Sue lifted Richie up on to Old Ma Ramsgill’s hospital bed and he snuggled up to his grandmother.
‘Did thee rescue any of the journals?’ Ma asked once she’d hugged her grandson.
Sue shook her head. ‘Only the one you saved. But rain stopped the house burning.’
Ma nodded. ‘Keep that journal safe, and make sure thee passes it on to Richie and he knows to pass it on to his kids. There’s a lot of stuff from the others in there. I hope I’ve copied all the important bits. Should have left the others at Gate House.’
‘Ma, about Gate House . . .’
Old Ma Ramsgill looked up sharply at her daughter-in-law.
‘It-it was struck by lightning. I’m sorry, it’s gone. But you’ll be all right, you’ll stay with us.’
‘There’s something else. They’re going to demolish the church,’ Sue added quietly.
‘What’s that thee’s saying?’
‘Someone must have seen us that night on the church roof. They’re concerned about people swimming out to it if they leave it. Part of the steeple was still above the water when the reservoir was full. Anyway, they’ve decided it’s too much of a risk. When they let the water out, they’ll take it apart and take all the internal fittings to that new monstrosity they’ve built on the other hill.’
‘Buggeration!’
‘Does that mean she’ll be free again?’
‘Don’t know, lass. It’ll still be holy ground, it depends on whether they move her stone. Did it go right to the bottom?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then we can only hope, lass, nowt more we can do now. Pass me another of them stouts.’
The End
***
The third Ghosts of Thores-Cross book, the full-length novel, JENNET: now she wants the children, is available for Kindle by clicking here.
Knight of Betrayal:
A Medieval Haunting
Ghosts of Knaresborough (Book 1)
by
Karen Perkins
From the Back Cover:
"A pacy, page-turning ghost story with a twisted difference! A must read."
The repercussions of an horrific crime reverberate through the centuries as the 12th century ghosts seek redemption and revenge, with no thought for anyone unlucky enough to get in their way.
1170, Canterbury Cathedral:
Four knights break sanctuary to brutally murder Archbishop Thomas Becket for their king, Henry II.
Running from their crime, the four knights - Hugh de Morville, William de Tracy, Reginald FitzUrse and Richard le Brett - flee north to Knaresborough Castle where Morville is overlord. Initially celebrating ridding their king of the pest that Becket had become, they find themselves increasingly isolated as the Church and public opinion turn against them.
2015, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire:
August is feva time - a celebration and festival of the arts. The Castle Players are to perform a play of their own creation: Knight of Betrayal, based on the events leading up to Becket's murder.
Taking the honour seriously, they work hard to get into character - but after they experiment with a spirit board, are they channelling more than just the characters of the knights they are portraying?
Cast List
Main Historical Figures and Titles
Henry II – King of England, Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Lord of Ireland
Thomas Becket – Archbishop of Canterbury
Sir Hugh de Morville – Baron of Burgh-on-the-Sands, Lord of the Manor of Cnaresburg
Sir William de Tracy – Baron of Bradninch
Sir Reginald FitzUrse – Lord of the Manor of Williton
Sir Richard le Brett (also known as Richard le Breton/de Brito)
Cnaresburg and Yorkshire:
Sir William de Percy – Baron of Topcliffe, Lord of Spofford and Wetherby
Sir William de Courcy – Lord of Harewood
Sir William de Stoteville
Lady Helwise de Morville
Other:
Sir Hamelin Plantagenet – Earl of Surrey
Sir William de Mandeville – Earl of Essex
Sir Richard de Humez – Constable of Normandy
Sir Ranulf de Broc – Overlord of Saltwood Castle
Hugh Mauclerk
Modern Characters
Helen Forrester – director and scriptwriter
Paul Fuller – plays Henry II
Charlie Thorogood – plays Thomas Becket
Ed Thomas – plays Hugh de Morville
Mike Bates– plays William de Tracy
Dan Stoddard – plays Reginald FitzUrse
Sarah Stoddard – plays Richard le Brett
Alec Greene – sound and lighting technician
Donna – owner of Spellbound
John Stoddard – son of Dan and Sarah
Kate Stoddard – daughter of Dan and Sarah
Richard Armitage – feva committee member
Place Names
I have used the historical spellings of place names in the knights’ timeline and modern ones in the Castle Players’ timeline:
Cnaresburg – Knaresborough
Goldesburgh – Goldsborough
Plumton – Plompton
Riche Mont – Richmond
River Nydde – River Nidd
Screven – Scriven
Spofford – Spofforth
Chapter 1
Saltwood Castle
29th December 1170
‘This is our chance. You heard the King’s words,’ Sir Reginald FitzUrse said. ‘Becket has shamed him.’
‘He called us all drones and traitors for allowing Becket to get away with it,’ Sir William de Tracy said.
‘Yes!’ shouted FitzUrse, and slammed his fist against the table to emphasise the word. The four men sitting with him flinched at his exuberance. Sir Reginald FitzUrse, or The Bear as he liked to be called, resembled the ursine creatures he was named for in more ways than one. Large, hairy, loud and strong with a temper to beware of, his friends and vassals were afraid of him, although were eager to please him – even the mature yet impressionable Sir William de Tracy. Sir Hugh de Morville exchanged an exasperated glance with Sir Ranulf de Broc – the overlord of Saltwood Castle and the knights’ host.
‘No one has avenged me,’ FitzUrse quoted their king, Henry Plantagenet of England, leaning forward now and staring at each man in turn. ‘No one has avenged me,’ he repeated.
‘A clear plea,’ Broc, FitzUrse’s master in the King’s household, agreed. ‘King Henry raised Thomas Becket from a low-born clerk to Archbishop of Canterbury, for God’s sake, and look how he has repaid him.’
Tracy nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Yes! He excommunicated l’Évêque, Foliot and Salisbury, and for no good reason.’
Broc glanced at him in annoyance. ‘As I was saying, two bishops and the Archbishop of York excommunicated and damned for eternity for crowning the Young King.’
‘Well, his father, King Henry, still lives.’ Morville tried to calm the rising tempers as Broc signalled to his steward to refill the jugs of fine Rhenish wine. ‘It may be customary for a king to crown his successor before his own death in Normandy, but it is rare in England. Only King Stephen did it, and that was just to spite the Empress Matilda.’
‘It is King Henry’s prerogative!’ FitzUrse slammed the table again, and Sir Richard le Brett – still a boy – steadied the now full flagon of Rhenish, then proceeded to empty it into goblets. Morville sighed as he watched Tracy down half in a single gulp.
‘Yes,’ Tracy slurred. ‘It’s nothing to do with Becket. It would not surprise me if Becket meant to depose the Young King and try for the crown himself.’
‘Always was an ambitious bastard,’ Brett agreed, then picked up a bone and noisily sucked the marrow from it.
‘Are you sure we arrived on England’s shores before Mandeville and Humez?’
‘Yes, I have had my men patrolling the coasts to slow them down. They failed me when they allowed Becket to beach from France. They will not fail me again.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ FitzUrse asked, pointing a half-eaten pheasant leg at his host.
Broc laughed. ‘Oh, I can be sure. One captain lost his head – the rest all want to keep theirs.’
Morville drained his wine, once again regretting FitzUrse’s choice of ally. The other men laughed, and Morville realised they were well into their cups. He poured more wine and drank again – in their cups may well be the only way they’d survive this day.
‘So we shall beat them to Becket?’ Tracy asked.
‘We have to,’ Broc said. ‘If they arrest Becket, they shall receive all the accolades – the two of them already hold more
castles and titles than the five of us put together. If we can take Becket to the King, he will surely be indebted to us and who knows what his favour may bring?’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ FitzUrse roared, pushing himself to his feet. His fellow knights followed suit, throwing down the remains of the meat they’d been gnawing on and draining their goblets.
The men-at-arms seated in the hall below shoved as much meat in their mouths as possible before following their masters to the stables. Half an hour later the company of over a hundred armed men cantered through the imposing towers of the castle’s gate and took the road to Canterbury.
*
While Broc garrisoned his men in the town, FitzUrse, Morville, Tracy and Brett – along with a small retinue of their most trusted vassals – clattered through the gatehouse to the Archbishop’s Palace and dismounted in the courtyard.
Morville glanced at his companions, still concerned at the glazed eyes which the three-hour ride had done nothing to clear.
FitzUrse produced another wineskin which he passed to Tracy after taking a large slug himself. ‘Are you ready for this?’
‘We need to disarm,’ Morville said before the other knights – still focused on the wine – could reply.
‘Disarm? God’s blood, Hugh, we are here on the King’s business.’
‘This is a house of God – the Archbishop will have mere monks, priests and clerks about him. No men-at-arms and no weapons. We shall not need arms to arrest him.’
‘He is correct,’ said Brett, ‘we can kill him with our bare hands if necessary.’
‘Richard!’ Morville was horrified. ‘We are not here to kill him, merely to arrest him and take him to King Henry to deal with as he sees fit.’