Buried Crown

by Ally Sherrick

  As he lifted up the crown, a finger of moonlight shone down on to the crest through the tree’s branches, and for a second the dragon’s eyes burnt with the same red fire as before. George shivered and peered about him, but there was nothing. Even the raven had disappeared. Lowering the crown into the hole, he covered it over and pressed the soil down firmly with both hands.

  He sat back frowning. Had he done the right thing? Only time would tell.

  Time! He snatched out the pocket watch and peered at it. Ten to one. His stomach clenched. In ten minutes’ time Adler was going to shoot Kitty!

  Checking the Luger was still safely tucked into the back of his trousers, he slung the knapsack over his shoulder, grabbed Spud’s lead and scrambled to his feet. ‘Come on, boy! Kitty needs us!’

  When they got back out into the open, the mist had cleared. George heaved a sigh of relief and set off at a sprint, weaving a path between the mounds. They were halfway across the field when Spud jerked to a halt, nose raised, ears twitching.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ George cocked his head and listened hard. And then he heard it too.

  A low rumble, like distant thunder.

  He glanced about him. A wind had got up and was rippling across the bracken-covered backs of the mounds. The rumbling noise sounded again, closer this time. And now the ground was shaking too. Spud pressed against his legs, shivering.

  Gripping tight hold of the lead, George tore across the rest of the field, twisting and turning past the remaining few mounds. As they reached the cover of the trees, he stopped for a moment and threw a quick glance over his shoulder. The thunder had faded. The wind too. But now there was something else: a throbbing ache in his right hand.

  Grimacing, he switched the lead to his other hand and held out his palm. The scar from the crown was twitching, as if something was stirring beneath the skin. He blinked and flexed his hand. This time when he looked, it was still.

  Before he had a chance to make any sense of it, he felt a sharp tug on the lead. He frowned. Spud was right. They had to get back to the hut, and fast.

  There was no sign of Scroggins when they reached the house. If he’d got any sense he’d hole up inside and wait for the coppers to come. If they came . . . George’s chest tightened. Shaking off the thought, he put his head down and sped on.

  As they neared the top of the slope, he dropped down and slunk forwards until the front of the hut came into view. He frowned. Where had Adler’s men gone? And what about Kitty? Was she still inside?

  He licked his lips. There was only one way to find out.

  ‘Ready, boy?’ Taking a deep breath, he leapt up and dashed towards it, Spud at his side.

  The door was bolted when they got there. Keeping a close look about him, he tiptoed up to it and put his eye to the knothole.

  He couldn’t see Kitty at first. And then, as his eyes got used to the gloom, he spotted her hunched in the corner, knees drawn up to her chest, head bowed.

  He was about to call her name when he felt a sharp tug on his trouser leg. He looked down. Spud sat bolt upright, both ears cocked. George held his breath. Voices. Adler’s and another man’s. Heading this way. They were coming for Kitty. They must be.

  He had to stop them. But how?

  A thought flashed into his head. If he could trick Adler into believing he’d returned ahead of Ritter with the crown, then distract him somehow, it might buy enough time for help to arrive. But he’d have to get him to think he’d come up from the town, or he’d smell a rat. And he needed to get rid of Spud too. He glanced back at the door. He was desperate to let Kitty know he hadn’t deserted her. But there was no time for that now. He had to go.

  Taking a tight grip of Spud’s lead, he scrambled up the slope again, then skirted along it and doubled back down towards the woods. As they reached the first of the trees, he peered in among them, willing Inspector Scroggins and his men to appear. But there was no sign.

  He gnawed at his top lip. He’d just have to stick to his original plan and hope they were on their way. But to make it work, he needed something that would fool Adler into believing he had the crown. Tying the end of Spud’s lead to a tree branch, he bent down and scoured the ground until at last he found what he was looking for. A lump of rock about the same size. He weighed it in his hand. It was heavy enough too. Stuffing it into the knapsack, he tied the string into a double knot and held it out in front of him. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

  As he slipped the bag back over his shoulder, Spud whined and strained on the lead.

  George’s stomach knotted. ‘Sorry, Spud. You’ve got to stay here. If those Nazis see you, it’ll be curtains for all of us.’ He bent and ruffled his ears. ‘I’ll come back for you soon, boy, I promise.’ He shivered. His voice sounded sure, but it was the last thing he felt. Pulling his jersey down over the Luger, he took a deep breath and set off back up the slope.

  As George neared the back of the hut, he heard more voices. Kitty’s – low and scared-sounding – then Adler’s, clipped and steel-edged. Any minute now, he might pull out his gun and shoot her. There wasn’t a moment to lose! He steeled himself and darted forwards.

  ‘Halt!’ A figure leapt out in front of him, pistol raised and pointed at his chest.

  George froze. Ritter! ‘B-but how . . .’

  The ghost of a smile flickered across the German’s face. ‘I have learnt to become almost as good at climbing as I am at digging since I joined the army.’ He eyed the knapsack. ‘So, you still have the crown?’

  George swallowed and gave a quick nod.

  ‘Let me have it and maybe I can persuade my commanding officer to release you.’

  George clutched the bag tight against his shoulder and backed away. ‘No. Not unless you let my friend go too!’

  The door to the hut flew open with a bang.

  Hauptsturmführer Adler stepped out into the moonlight. He shot a quick look about him, then fastened George with an iron-hard stare. ‘So you are back, little man. And all alone too! I would have expected you to go for help.’

  ‘I . . . I tried, but I got lost in the woods and . . .’ George let his voice shrink to a whisper, doing his best to get the Nazi to believe him.

  ‘Hmmm. I wonder if you are lying to me? No matter.’ Adler gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Tell me, how did you manage to escape? Ritter is having trouble remembering after his knock on the head.’ He flicked the younger man an angry look.

  A burst of relief flooded through George. So he didn’t know about Scroggins and Spud. That was something anyway.

  ‘I dunno . . . I—’

  Ritter pointed at George’s knapsack. ‘He still has the crown, sir!’

  Adler shot a glance at it and took a step forwards, eyes narrowing. ‘That is something Ritter has been able to tell me. That you had the crown on you all along.’ He clicked his teeth. ‘I warned you against playing games. Now hand it over!’

  George balled his fingers into fists and stood his ground. ‘No. Not until you let Ki— I mean Mary go.’

  A look of cold amusement rippled across Adler’s face. ‘You have got courage, I will give you that.’ He hesitated for a moment, then gave Ritter a quick nod.

  The younger man slipped past him into the hut. He emerged a few seconds later, dragging Kitty behind him.

  When she saw George, she cried out and made to break free, but Ritter held her back.

  Adler gave a hollow-sounding laugh. ‘Your friend has spirit too. A shame she is just a girl. We could use her sort fighting for the Fatherland.’

  ‘Never!’ Kitty puckered her mouth and spat.

  ‘No, Kitty. Don’t!’ George leapt forwards.

  The muscle in Adler’s jaw twitched. ‘You told me her name was Mary?’ He swivelled his gaze back to Kitty. She reached up and clutched nervously at the necklace round her throat. The Nazi’s eyes shrank to two steely slits. He stalked over to her and tore it free. ‘What is this?’ He snapped his hand open and stared down at the
star-shaped pendant. ‘The Star of David. Ein Judenmädchen!’

  Kitty tossed back her shoulders and stared back at him defiantly. ‘Yes, I am Jewish and I am proud of it!’

  He shot up an eyebrow. ‘And a German-speaking one too. I wonder . . .’ He stroked a finger across his lips. ‘You wouldn’t by any chance be related to that dirt-grubbing Jew Ritter told me about, would you?’

  A look of terror flashed across Kitty’s face.

  Adler’s mouth pressed into a tight smile. ‘I thought so!’ He swung the necklace from side to side, then thrust it at Ritter and fixed George with an ice-cold stare. ‘So, I am guessing that if your little Jewish friend here is as good at eavesdropping as both of you are at lying, you will know it is not only the crown we have come for?’

  George’s throat gripped. Where had the coppers got to? A few more seconds and it would be too late.

  ‘We don’t know nothing, mister. Honest we don’t. Here. You can have the crown. Just let us go.’ He swung the knapsack from his shoulder.

  ‘George, no!’ Kitty struggled to get free again, but Ritter held her fast.

  ‘Enough!’ Adler jerked up his hand. ‘Your time has run out.’

  George’s stomach lurched. ‘Wh-what d’you mean?’

  ‘What I say. You have a weapon, Ritter?’

  Ritter’s cheeks paled. ‘My knife, sir, but—’

  ‘Good. Take the girl away and kill her. Then come back for the boy.’

  ‘No! You can’t!’ George leapt to Kitty’s side.

  ‘Silence!’ Adler shoved him away. ‘Now do as I say, Ritter. It is an order!’

  Ritter shook his head. ‘I am sorry, sir. I cannot do it.’

  Adler’s face twisted with sudden rage. ‘What? You dare to disobey your commanding officer?’

  Ritter swallowed. ‘They are children, sir. They have done nothing wrong. I . . . I will not—’

  Adler shot him a look of disgust. ‘I knew you were weak from the moment we first met.’ Thrusting his hand beneath his coat, he pulled out a pistol and trained it on the other man. ‘Raise your hands.’

  Ritter blinked. Taking a step backwards, he lifted his arms slowly above his head.

  ‘When the Führer hears of your disobedience, he will want to make an example of you, I am sure. In the meantime, there is no place for a traitor in our ranks.’ Adler rammed the gun against Ritter’s chest. ‘Get in there.’

  ‘But sir, you do not have to do this.’

  ‘Quiet, or I will shoot you here and now!’ Adler jostled Ritter into the hut and slammed the door. He rattled the bolt across it, then turned and locked his eyes back on George and Kitty. ‘It looks as though I will have to do the job myself.’

  As the words left his mouth, a low droning noise thrummed above them. Adler jerked back his head and stared in the direction of the river.

  George followed his gaze. At first he saw nothing except wooded slopes and the glimmer of water beyond them. But then, as the noise grew louder, he spotted them: a bunch of Messerschmitts, and behind them a line of other, bigger planes. All heading their way.

  Kitty gasped and clutched his sleeve.

  Adler pressed his mouth into a grim smile. ‘So . . . it begins.’

  The Nazi undid the top button of his coat and pulled out a pair of binoculars. As he raised them to his eyes, George caught sight of a badge pinned on the inside of his collar. It was a bird. An eagle; silver-grey wings spread in flight, steel talons gripped round a ring – a ring with the crooked arms of a swastika fixed inside it.

  George shuddered. He threw another glance up at the sky. There were more of the bigger planes now. Twenty at least, powering towards them like a swarm of huge black beetles, each one of them, he guessed, packed full of German soldiers, waiting to parachute down . . .

  Adler jerked down the binoculars and turned back to them, eyes glittering with triumph.

  A jet of hot anger shot through George. ‘You’ll never win. There’s an airbase up the road. They’ll be here in a second, just you wait!’

  Adler snorted. ‘My men knocked out the local radar station earlier, so your brave RAF boys will have no idea of our plans. Besides, our Luftwaffe has been keeping them busy again in the skies above London.’ He trained his pistol back on them. ‘Now, who is going to be first?’

  Kitty gave George a panicked stare. He bit his lip. If help was coming, it wasn’t going to be in time for them. There was only one thing left to do – he’d have to use the Luger. He reached for the gun, then slid his hand back to his side. Taking on Ritter had been one thing, but a coldblooded killer like Adler? It was mad even thinking of it – unless he could distract him . . .

  ‘Wait! You want the crown, don’t you?’

  Adler glanced at the knapsack, then sneered back at him. ‘It is mine for the taking.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ George thrust the bag out in front of him.

  Adler’s forehead bunched into a frown.

  ‘Come on. See for yourself!’

  Kitty gave a small groan and slumped to her knees.

  Seizing hold of the bag, Adler flipped open the flap and worked at the ties. The knot held fast. He cursed. Ramming the gun in his pocket, he tore off his gloves and tried again.

  A trickle of sweat ran down the side of George’s face. He had to act now! As he reached for the Luger, Charlie’s voice echoed in his ears: Keep your nerve, George. Bracing himself, he yanked the gun out and swung it round, gripping it tightly with both hands.

  At the same moment, Adler ripped open the bag and dug his hand inside. A look of astonishment stole across his face. ‘Was ist das?’

  ‘Stop, or I’ll shoot!’

  Adler froze.

  George did his best to hold the Luger steady. ‘Put your hands up.’

  Adler hesitated, right hand still gripping the knapsack, then slowly did as he said.

  The sound of plane engines grew louder still, but George kept his eyes firmly fixed on the Nazi. ‘Kitty, get his gun.’

  Kitty sprang up and limped over to Adler. Shooting him a nervous look, she drew the gun from his pocket and slung it as far away from them as she could.

  Adler cocked his right eyebrow. ‘You are cleverer than I thought. So, where have you taken it?’

  George tightened his grip on the Luger. ‘Back where it belongs.’

  Kitty stared at him, eyes wide and shining. ‘You mean . . .’

  George gave a quick nod.

  Adler’s jaw twitched. ‘You are either very brave . . . or very foolish. Unfortunately for you, I fear it is the latter.’ In one swift movement, he jerked out his arm and swung the knapsack at George’s head.

  Kitty screamed a warning. George ducked, but the Nazi had him on the back foot. He grabbed George round the middle. Wrestling the Luger from his grip, he spun him round and pointed the muzzle of the gun at his chest.

  ‘So’ – he wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve – ‘it would appear I am back in command again. Now, show me where you have hidden the Führer’s crown, or when our troops land I will give the order for your little town to be razed to the ground.’ He jabbed a finger at the line of planes rumbling through the night sky towards them.

  George stifled a groan. It had all been for nothing. The Nazis were coming and there was nothing he or a bunch of old runes on a crown could do to stop them now.

  Adler’s finger twitched against the trigger. ‘Well?’

  George threw a quick glance at Kitty. ‘Only . . . only if you let my friend go.’

  Kitty shook her head. ‘No, George. I am staying with you.’

  ‘Such loyalty!’ Adler’s lips quivered into a mocking sneer. ‘Very well. It is no matter anyway. We will be rounding her up with the rest of her kind soon enough.’ He jabbed the gun at Kitty. ‘Go!’

  She folded her arms across her chest and glared back at him.

  George swallowed against the fear clogging the back of his throat. ‘Please, Kitty. Your granddad. He needs you.�
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  ‘But—’

  ‘Go on!’

  Heaving a sigh, she turned and limped past him. But as she reached the side of the hut, she spun round and called back to him. ‘Help will come, George. I know it will.’ She shot Adler a fresh look of defiance, then disappeared into the darkness.

  George’s heart fluttered. He wanted to believe it too, but how could he when an army of Nazi soldiers were about to parachute down on top of them?

  Adler stepped smartly behind him and jabbed the gun against his back. ‘Stop wasting time!’

  George puffed out a breath. Better get it over with. At least if he showed the Nazi where the crown was, it might stop them from killing all those innocent people.

  A loud roaring sound filled his ears. He jerked his head up. The planes were almost directly overhead now, circling like a flock of great black vultures, the small fighter planes buzzing around them like flies.

  His heart clenched. He’d been stupid. Stupid for thinking he could get the better of a bunch of Nazis. Even more stupid for believing in a daft fairy story that said a crown with a dragon on it could save the day. He’d let Charlie down, and now the whole country too . . .

  ‘Come on. Move!’ Adler gave him another sharp shove with the gun.

  As George stumbled forwards, the scar on his hand began to throb again. He frowned and pressed his fingers against it, but the throbbing grew stronger. A chill breeze skimmed his face and a peal of thunder echoed through the air. He started and looked up. A thick black cloud had bubbled up and was snaking its way across the sky.

  The planes dropped down to avoid it, but the cloud followed, swirling in amongst them, forcing them to drop lower still.

  And then he saw them.

  Two Spitfires, flying high above the Jerry planes. Adler had spotted them too. Yanking a torch from his coat pocket, he flicked the beam on and arced it above his head.

  But the enemy planes were too busy trying to steer away from the cloud. George held his breath and watched as the Spitfires tilted their wings and swung down through it, diving on a pair of Messerschmitts beneath, peppering them with bursts of orange gunfire.