Paul smiled as he signed them with his autograph and posed for pictures. He sighed with exhaustion after the students thanked him and left. “I hope that was it. I am bushed and I’d like to go back to the hotel soon,” he said to her.
Megan had been with him for three years now and knew his exact itinerary. “I’d like to introduce you to two more people,” she said as an old man in a tweed suit stepped up to shake his hand. “This is Sir Wilfred Pyles, Professor of Anthropology here at UCL.”
Paul smiled as he shook the old man’s hand. “How do you do, Professor Pyles?”
“I must say that was a splendid lecture you gave, I was absolutely entertained for three hours, better than going to a concert with some strange bands that you don’t even know what kind of music they play nowadays,” Sir Wilfred said, smiling.
Paul laughed. “Thank you, Sir Wilfred.”
“And this is Brian Farrar, from the Associated Press,” Megan said as a younger man in a dark suit stepped up from beside Sir Wilfred and offered his own hand.
“Mr. Farrar, how are you?” Paul said as he shook his hand.
“I’m doing well, thanks.” Brian said. “Can I get any comments from you on the situation here in Europe, Professor Dane?”
Paul arched his eyebrows. “What situation are you referring to?”
“The refugee crisis,” Brian said. “My sources tell me the blockade against the refugees that are trying to pour into the Eurozone from both Syria and Iraq has been ineffective due to the fact that the number of displaced persons coming over to the shores of Greece and Italy have more than quadrupled in the past few weeks, they say. There’s also large scale rioting occurring in Turkey.”
Paul shrugged. “I think you’re asking the wrong person about this. I’m a professor of anthropology. Shouldn’t you be asking the EU ministers instead?”
Brian smirked. “Well, as a matter of fact, my sources tell me that the refugees are fleeing some sort of new cult that has arisen from that region, and that this new religion seems not to be Muslim in nature but is in fact ancient Babylonian.”
Paul was shocked. “What?”
Even Sir Wilfred was surprised. “Excuse me, Brian, but did you just say that there is a new faction in the civil war over there and that they worship Babylonian gods? Surely this must be some sort of joke.”
“I’m afraid it’s serious, Sir Wilfred,” Brian said. “I have a colleague in Iraq and I just got this piece of information a few hours ago. I’ve been told the US military has lost contact with an entire division of its own troops near Tikrit. Both Baghdad and Washington are on high-alert and they are putting a muzzle on all media personnel down there. There’s a massive sandstorm that’s blanketed the entire region as well, and this new cult is sweeping everything before it.”
“I heard some rumblings about it on the internet earlier today, but nothing’s confirmed, it’s all just rumors, CGI and conspiracy theories,” Megan said.
Paul shook his head. “That’s impossible. A religion takes years, even decades to convert people into their cause. The Muslim conquests of that region took over four hundred years to complete. You’re saying that this new religious group just came out of nowhere, swept the Islamic insurgency away and is now threatening the whole country in just a matter of days? I just can’t believe it.”
“It’s not just that region,” Brian said. “There have been reports of large scale riots in both China and in India. The Chinese have been arresting every foreign journalist in the country and their own government controlled news agencies are in complete denial mode. Something is happening all over the world and it’s happening fast.”
As the four of them were talking in the now nearly empty auditorium, they didn’t notice a dour-faced, grey-haired man in a dark grey suit flanked by two armed policemen by his side walk up to them. The man cleared his throat and the four of them stopped talking and turned to face him.
“My name is Malcolm Pryce and I’m with the MOD,” he said before looking at Sir Wilfred. “Are you Professor Pyles?”
Sir Wilfred looked at him with equal astonishment. “I am indeed. What can I do for you?”
Malcolm remained impassive. “Will you come with me, please.”
Paul arched his eyebrows. “MOD?”
“Ministry of Defence,” Brian said before turning to Malcolm. “May I ask what this is about, Mr. Pryce?”
Malcolm looked at him with cold, grey eyes. “No, you may not. This is a D-Notice affair so I must kindly ask you to leave, Brian.”
“But, this is absurd!” Brian protested.
“Now,” Malcolm said.
Seeing he wasn’t going to win, Brian swallowed his pride and walked out of the room in a huff. Malcolm watched him silently until he was gone.
Paul frowned. “D-Notice? Ministry of Defence? What’s going on?”
“A D-Notice means there’s a government news blackout,” Megan said to him before looking at Malcolm. “Do you want us to leave as well, Mr. Pryce?”
“Not just yet,” Malcolm said to her before turning to Paul. “I understand you are an expert in anthropology and folklore, Professor Dane?”
“I have had some experience in researching it and I wrote a few books about it,” Paul said. “But I don’t even know what you want.”
“Yes,” Sir Wilfred said. “What is it you want with us?”
Malcolm’s face remained impassive. “Professor Pyles, I understand you have been at the forefront of ongoing research on Stonehenge, is that true?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I don’t see how this relates to a D-Notice, or to you,” Sir Wilfred said.
“You will need to come along with me to the site right now,” Malcolm said before turning to Paul and Megan. “You two are American citizens, so I cannot compel you to join us, but I would like to request you do because we may need your additional expertise, Professor Dane.”
Paul looked at Sir Wilfred, who merely rolled his eyes, before answering. “I have no idea what this is about, but from everything I’ve just heard in the last few minutes, this is far more interesting than having a bubble bath back in the hotel.”
The drive from the heart of London towards Amesbury was less than a hundred miles and would take a couple of hours on the road, they estimated. Paul sat with Sir Wilfred in the backseat of the sedan while Megan took the front passenger chair beside the driver, who was a uniformed policeman named Steve. Malcolm was riding in another police car ahead of them. The small convoy was using their sirens to get ahead of the busy London traffic. It was early evening and the city seemed calm. The weather was a different matter. When Paul began his speaking tour a few weeks ago, most of Europe had been experiencing strange weather phenomena. There were cloudy days and almost daily rain showers and blankets of fog across entire regions, the meteorologists were divided as to what the causes were. The economic effect of the rains and storms was devastating as many airlines had at first rescheduled and then later on cancelled flights due to the danger. Meanwhile, international trade between countries was also disrupted as ships mostly stayed in port.
Sir Wilfred sighed as he adjusted his seatbelt. “And here I was, thinking this would be a quiet day in the United Kingdom….”
“London seems pleasant enough,” Paul said.
Sir Wilfred smiled at him. “When did you arrive, Professor Dane?”
Paul smiled back. “About two days ago, why?”
“I guess you missed the news then,” Sir Wilfred said. “In the past few weeks, all the major cities in the country have been gripped by spontaneous rioting and looting, mostly caused by young people, but their motives remain unknown and hundreds, possibly thousands, have been detained. The last few days were the exception since all police units are now on high alert.”
“I’m sorry, I haven’t been watching the news much since I started my tour,” Paul said. He started to feel guilty about not watching or reading the news in the hotel rooms where he stayed the last two weeks, preferring instead to c
oncentrate on his writing and lecture notes. “I did hear about the same things when I was in both Germany and France as well.”
“I was keeping up with the news for you, Dr. Dane,” Megan chimed in. “It seems to be happening all across the EU and nobody has any idea as to why.”
“Happening in Eastern Europe as well, ma’am,” Steve the police driver said as he kept his eyes on the road.
Paul leaned forward. “Excuse me, what?”
“We’ve been getting reports there’s massive rioting in the East like Russia, Hungary, Poland, and in others as well, sir,” Steve said nonchalantly.
Paul sat back into the seat cushion. “Oh my god, what is happening?”
Sir Wilfred put his hands up and wriggled his fingers. “The end of the world.”
Megan couldn’t help but laugh. Steve glanced at her briefly with an approving smile.
Paul turned to Sir Wilfred again. “Professor Pyles, could you give me a short briefing about Stonehenge? I’ve only been to that site once before and I was just a tourist then. Since Malcolm mentioned it, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a connection with all of this.”
“You can call me Will or Willy when there isn’t an audience around, Paul.” Sir Wilfred winked at him. “As far as Stonehenge goes, it’s really just a circle of stones. Radiocarbon dating estimates that the building of the site started around three thousand BC. We know there were three major building phases that occurred around that time, but the whole area was already being developed even long before that, people may have been using the site for well over ten thousand years.”
“It was a druidic ceremonial site, was it not?”
“That is the common belief, but it may not be true,” Sir Wilfred said. “The druidic cults as we know them started around three hundred BC, but we know full well the site is a lot older than that. The Neolithic people that inhabited the area did not have any written records so it’s all just mostly guesswork, I’m afraid. What we do know is that it was some sort of burial site and people from all over Europe have ended up there. We unearthed the remains of a teenage boy dating back from fifteen hundred BC, and based on isotope analysis, it seems he was raised near the Mediterranean Sea while other remains were found to have originated in France and even Germany.”
“Amazing,” Paul said. “But the druidic influence is pretty strong these days when it comes to talking about Stonehenge, right?”
“Quite right, quite right,” Sir Wilfred said. “Everybody who thinks of Stonehenge these days immediately thinks Druids! The disruption caused by the Neo-Druids these past few months has been nothing short of staggering.”
“I’m sorry, Neo-Druids?”
Sir Wilfred chuckled. “Yes, it’s one of these New Age, Neo-Pagan religions that have sprung up ever since Stonehenge was discovered by the world, so to speak. There had been a few nutters like Morgannwg who claimed, back during the time of the eighteenth century, that he was some sort of descendant of the last line of Druids, or whatever that means, and he soon gained some followers. Anyway, this movement really has no connection with the actual Druids who lived during Julius Caesar’s time, if you ask me. It’s all chanting and New Age pish-posh and all that. There isn’t even a set dogma or belief system between the different groups.”
Megan turned around. “I have a few New Age friends back at the university and they seem pretty mellow, what kinds of problems have these Neo-Druids been causing?”
“We didn’t have too much of a problem with them before, other than the occasional disruption at the Stonehenge site when they demanded access to it for one of their annual ceremonies,” Sir Wilfred said. “The authorities would naturally not allow anyone without special permission to touch the stones nowadays in order to prevent vandalism and erosion, but they recently relaxed this during the summer solstice months in the past few years so the pagans could do their ceremonies. However, these past few months have been a nightmare. Hundreds of them have been camping out near the site and have demanded all-year, full access and the authorities are not giving in on that demand, with good reason.”
“Interesting,” Paul said. “What’s changed to make them do this now?”
Sir Wilfred shrugged. “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“We’re almost at the site now,” Steve said as the car made the roundabout turn out of Amesbury.
Everyone gasped as they started towards the area. The circle of stones was visible from a mile away, but there were huge numbers of people all over the Salisbury plain. There was a traffic jam within the last mile before the turn due to the fact that massive crowds had been standing on the highway.
Steve cursed as the car slowed down and they were surrounded by a crowd of Neo-Pagan worshippers. Megan shrieked when the mass of people started thumping at the windows, shouting some sort of indelible chant. Some of them pressed their faces on the car windows and the whole scene was like watching a live Hieronymus Bosch painting close up. Paul made sure the doors were locked as Sir Wilfred just sat back and calmly faced forward.
The lead car kept the loud wail of its siren and even started honking its car horns, but the crowd was still too large to be controlled. All of a sudden, dozens of riot policemen with plastic shields formed a wedge and made their way to where the two cars had floundered until there was a sufficient lane for them to go through. The small convoy finally made it just inside the knee-high, single-rope fence where a police HQ had been set up using a cluster of small tents.
As Paul got out of the car, he could see Malcolm Pryce talking to the police commander. Megan was still in shock as Steve helped her out of the vehicle. Sir Wilfred took out his cane and gingerly walked over to get beside Paul. He could see no more than a few hundred police constables who were doing their best to hold back the huge crowds of thousands that were trying to get into the stone circle of Stonehenge.
“What in the hell is going on?” Paul said to know one in particular.
“I-I have no idea,” Sir Wilfred said. “Every Neo-Pagan in Europe must either be here, or they made new converts from the crowds gathered around us.”
Paul surveyed the crowd. They all seemed to be of varying ages though he saw only a few children. About half of them wore white sheets over their clothes. They all seemed to be chanting or just swaying back and forth as if waiting for something. Some of them even stared back at him, doing nothing but grinning ear to ear and looking like live, human gargoyles. There were a couple of news crews staying well at the fringes while a police helicopter flew overhead, occasionally putting a spotlight on parts of the crowd.
“Can you understand what it is they’re chanting?” Paul asked.
Sir Wilfred pursed his lips. “I’m not sure, it seems to be Old Celtic with a sprinkling of Latin, I believe.”
Megan walked over and joined them. Paul turned and gave her a hug. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Dr. Dane. I just got a little frightened for a minute there.”
Paul smiled at her. “I’m sorry I put you through this. I’ll ask if one of the cops can take you back to the hotel.”
Megan shook her head and smiled back. “It’s okay, Doc. I think I’ll stay with you. Anyway it doesn’t look like they can spare anybody.”
Paul tuned to Sir Wilfred. “Can you make out what it is they’re chanting?”
Sir Wilfred squinted as he strained to listen. “I’m not quite sure, they seem to be chanting about a man in the woods over and over again.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It must be a form of mass hysteria or something to that extent, thank goodness this hasn’t turned violent,” Sir Wilfred said.
Steve had put on his black policeman’s cap and walked over to them. “Mr. Pryce would like you all to join him in the command tent, if you please,” he said as he pointed to the biggest tent just beside the monument.
As the four of them ventured inside, Steve went ahead and joined the other constables to help man the perime
ter. The command tent was the size of a small room, with a folding table in the middle. There was a topographical map of the area laid out on top. Malcolm stood there waiting for them, along with police Commander David Tennyson and two other constables who stayed near the entrance flap of the tent.
“I apologize to the three of you for the delay in getting you here, but we do have a situation,” Commander Tennyson said. “My men cannot hold this perimeter. We fear something may happen and things could get dicey very quickly.”
“Which is why I’ve sent for the Army,” Malcolm said as he pored over the map. “They should be here in about an hour so all we have to do is hold on.”
Sir Wilfred frowned. “What’s all this hubbub about anyway? What kind of situation are you expecting that you need to call in the military?”
“Her Majesty’s government has reason to believe that what happened in Iraq may very well happen here, and could threaten the entire country,” Malcolm said dryly.
Paul shook his head. “I don’t get what you’re saying, you’re telling me the British government fears that some sort of religious conversion might just happen here? Right now?”
“Ridiculous,” Sir Wilfred said. “The Neo-Druid Pagans have never been known to use violence, most of them can’t even figure out their own dogma. This whole event seems to be nothing more than a case of collective delusion.”
Paul turned to Commander Tennyson. “How did this situation start?”
Tennyson rubbed his forehead. “We received a call from local units stationed here that massive crowds had begun to gather this afternoon. Even though the Commissioner has brought in every available constable, the mass of people has kept growing until they now outnumber us at least ten to one. Although no one has attempted to trespass past the fence yet, I can feel the situation is getting worse by the minute.”
“This can’t be spontaneous, there must be something causing it,” Paul said.
Malcolm kept looking at the map. “What I’m about to tell you is to be held in strictest confidence. A similar situation in France happened just yesterday.”
The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) Page 3