Master of the Scrolls

by Benjamin Ford

  Anxiety gnawed at the pit of her bilious stomach. Fearful that her mother had understood something wrong, that something had gone horribly awry in the scheme of things, Rachel stood by the phone, twisting her wedding ring around her finger in agitation. She could not just stand idly by and do nothing. There was no telling what atrocities the monster was perpetrating against Gloria right at that very moment. She reached for the telephone, her finger poised above the 9, but she faltered, hearing her mother’s words of warning about involving the police – who would likely disbelieve her fantastic tale anyway.

  Making a snap decision, Rachel reached for her personal telephone and address book, opened it at the relevant page and repeatedly tapped her finger on the loose piece of paper she had recently placed there.

  Louise knew about Gloria’s destiny, and as she was staying at George Palmer’s cottage in Neville Hill, she had given Rachel his telephone number in case of an emergency. Did this constitute an emergency? As far as Rachel was concerned, it did. Since they were apparently considered to be a couple now, it was likely that Louise would have unburdened the tale onto George’s shoulders, and since George was definitely a robust man, he could surely tackle this Samuel Wylams with ease, if indeed the nefarious Sixteenth Century man had picked up the telephone at Gloria’s house.

  Glancing down at the number she had written, Rachel started dialling.

  *

  George sat spellbound opposite Louise in his living room as she completed the fantastic tale. As she lapsed into silence, sipping her coffee, Louise stared hard at George, trying to gauge his reaction. She could tell from his general demeanour that he did not fully believe her, and who could blame him? Possession, time travel – it was all too preposterous to be real. She would have felt the same had she not witnessed certain events. Though she knew neither Rachel nor Mary to be prone to wild allegations of such grandiose idiocy, and even having seen the apparent supernatural coupling of Gloria and Phil, she found it difficult to believe them possessed by the spirits of Isabella and Peter Neville.

  Even as the words came pouring from her mouth they seemed so ridiculous, and yet George clearly ascertained from Louise’s face that, no matter how unbelievable the tale might be, it was nonetheless the truth.

  ‘You maintain that Gloria returns to the past, to become this… woman… who marries James Trevayne, helps defeat the Warlock, Samuel Wylams?’

  Louise nodded emphatically. ‘You do believe me, don’t you George? I really needed to tell someone, but I need you to believe me! I don’t want to think I’m going mad!’

  George smiled enigmatically. ‘My dear, I think not that you are consumed with madness! Nobody could concoct such a tale and expect another to believe, unless it is true! You say you saw the spirit of Isabella take hold of Gloria?’

  ‘Well, Gloria was having sex with Phil, and they were calling each other Isabella and Peter, and she wasn’t speaking in her own voice. I didn’t see her get taken over as such, but I did see Gloria become herself again afterwards.’

  ‘And what of Isabella’s spirit?’

  Louise shrugged her shoulders. ‘I couldn’t really say. I must admit, George, you’re taking this a whole lot better than I thought you would. Your body language said you didn’t believe me, and I was prepared to have you doubt me.’

  George came across to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘I could not ever doubt you, Louise, even about something fantastic like this! Is Gloria still at her house? I would like very much to speak with her.’

  Louise frowned, her niggling doubts creeping closer to the forefront of her subconscious. ‘Why?’

  George shook his head vaguely. ‘If she is leaving then I would know if I am still to tend the garden.’

  ‘Practical as ever. I guess that depends on what happens to the house when Gloria is gone. As to whether she’s still there or not, I really don’t know. There’s something else, George.’

  ‘Oh?’ George gripped Louise by the shoulders as he stared into her eyes. ‘What else know you?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think Mrs Turner was holding something back. There’s something else she doesn’t want Gloria to find out about!’

  ‘What can the old woman have knowledge of?’ George arched an inquisitive eyebrow, but Louise merely shrugged. ‘If the old woman keeps something from her granddaughter, mayhap she has good reason for doing so!’

  ‘Probably.’

  One thing Louise knew about Mary Turner, apart from the fact that she was an overbearing old woman, was that she cared a great deal for her beloved granddaughter’s well being. She had clearly known about Gloria’s destiny for many years, which had prepared her for the inevitable goodbyes. If Mary felt there was something concerning Gloria’s future that her granddaughter would be better off in the dark about, then it was most likely that Gloria really would be safer not knowing the fact.

  That did not necessarily mean that Mary should bear the burden alone any longer. ‘I think I’m going to visit Mrs Turner in London,’ Louise said. ‘I think there are things she really ought to tell me. I can be there for Gloria if needed, but only if I know the whole truth!’

  George nodded. ‘That is most prudent. I could drive you, should you desire it. I would most like to meet Mary Turner!’

  Louise thought it a bit odd that George first wanted to go and see Gloria, and now wanted to go and meet Mary, but the thoughts drifted from her mind as the telephone rang. Since she was nearest, Louise answered it.

  ‘Is that you, Louise? It’s Rachel.’

  ‘Hi, Mrs Schofield, yes it’s me. How are you feeling today?’

  Louise heard Rachel sigh on the other end of the line. ‘As well as can be expected… considering!’

  ‘I know exactly how you feel. This whole situation with Gloria is giving me a constant headache, and it must be so much worse for you!’

  ‘Actually, it’s Gloria I’m calling about. I tried phoning her a little while ago. The phone was answered but no one spoke, and then the line wend dead, but just before it died, I swear I heard a man’s voice. Mother says I shouldn’t worry, but–’

  ‘You’d like me to check it out?’ interjected Louise, sensing the alarm in Rachel’s tone. A man’s voice? It surely could not be Phil, back again? Might that mean Gloria was possessed again? ‘Consider it done, Mrs Schofield. I had planned on visiting her later today anyway.’

  ‘Thank you, dear. Take George with you, just in case! Would you call me later on, let me know – one way or another?’

  ‘I will. I’m heading there now!’

  When she replaced the receiver, Louise turned to George, a worried expression on her face. ‘It sounds as though Gloria might be in some kind of trouble. Rachel wants me to check it out. She says to take you, just in case.’

  George frowned nervously. ‘What kind of trouble might she mean?’

  Louise was already by the door, cramming her feet into her trainers, tying the laces haphazardly. ‘How should I know? I’m not a bloody mind reader! Just get your shoes on and follow me!’ She ran from the house before George could say anything further.

  He slipped into his wellington boots since they were to hand, grabbed his door keys and followed Louise from the cottage. Running down the lane, he was barely out of breath as he caught up with her. ‘Need you to vent such anger upon me!’ he snapped irritably.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ gasped Louise, not slowing her pace, her thoughts centred solely on the welfare of her friend. ‘Guess I’m just concerned about Gloria!’

  *

  Standing in the doorway to the kitchen in Gloria’s house, Phil stared at the spot where, a split second before, he had seen Gloria and the oddly familiar looking man as they fought for possession of the book. Memories were fading from his mind – distant memories of a long ago time, thoughts that were not his. Peter was leaving him at last, as Gloria had now also abandoned him.

  Phil could scarcely believe what he had just witnessed, and he staggered back sli
ghtly as a sense of dizziness enveloped him, his senses whirling as he struggled to comprehend what had happened.

  Gloria had been there, fighting with… he tried to recall the name through his foggy memory.

  She had been fighting Samuel Wylams himself!

  Sawyl Gwilym made flesh; corporeal – a mere shadow no longer!

  But how was that possible?

  They had been fighting, and Phil blinked, and then suddenly they were gone, just as suddenly as Isabella’s spirit had left his body the moment he had leapt from the taxi not five minutes ago.

  As he struggled to control his breathing, Phil heard some-thing from the living room. Hardly daring to breathe, he glanced up, and to his surprise saw Gloria sitting on the sofa, her arms bent awkwardly behind her back. He stepped cautiously into the room, hoping not to startle her. ‘Gloria?’ he whispered.

  Gloria looked up at him, and he was shocked to see how thin she appeared. Tears streamed down her dirty face, and as he came closer, he could see there was a nasty fresh bruise above her left eye.

  He knelt before her, aware that Peter was definitely gone and that he was completely in control of himself in her presence. As he did so, Phil suddenly realised that Gloria’s hands were bound behind her back. ‘Are you all right?’ he gasped as he feverishly struggled to release her from the securely fastened rope. ‘I saw you with Samuel, then you disappeared, and now you’re back! What happened? Why are you tied up?’

  So many questions, and so few answers that she wished to give. ‘They are dead!’ she finally managed to sob, distraught at some terrible catastrophe that had befallen people to whom she had become close. ‘I couldn’t rescue them!’

  Phil noticed her odd clothes for the first time and frowned. ‘Who’s dead, Gloria? What’s going on?’

  Gloria looked into his eyes, and he was appalled to see the hurt and anguish in hers. Something horrendous had happened, which had deeply affected her, but what had happened, and how could something have occurred when she had been gone a mere second or two?

  ‘My husband, my daughter, they are dead!’

  Phil fell backwards at her softly spoken words, partly from surprise, and partly because he had finally managed to untie the rope. ‘Your… husband… and daughter?’

  With confusion etched on his face, he again asked the tearful Gloria what had happened. As she rubbed her chafed wrists, she falteringly told him everything – culminating with how she had regained consciousness after the blacksmith hit her, to find herself tied to a chair in the Great Hall of Neville Manor, with James equally bound at the other end of the table, Elizabeth screaming on the bench beside him. The air was thick with smoke, flames danced in front of the walls and across the ceiling as the house burned ferociously.

  She had struggled against her bonds, but they were almost demonically tight and she could not free herself, any more than James had been able to. He had begged Gloria to save herself, to use the locket to get home, but she did not want to leave her husband and child.

  James had said he and Elizabeth were nothing more than a mere footnote in her history books. She had another life in the future that she could return to, and she should do so. Save herself.

  Therefore, she had.

  Now here she was, dirty and dishevelled, a ghost of the woman she once was; the love of her life, burned alive along with their daughter while she, the Witch Ria, had disappeared, just as the history books had claimed.

  Gloria looked at Phil. ‘How could he describe himself as a mere footnote in my history books?’ she gasped, drying her eyes. ‘He was the most wonderful man I ever met!’

  ‘It’s incredible, Gloria. You were gone mere seconds, yet you have lived months back then, over four hundred years ago!’ said Phil. ‘Life has dealt you a cruel blow, and life must have been tough back in the Sixteenth Century if your appearance is anything to go by!’

  Gloria shrugged. ‘I don’t really care how I look,’ she whispered in a haunted voice, ‘not when I’ve lost two people so close to me.’

  Sadly, Phil nodded. ‘That’s understandable.’ More than anything, he wanted to hug her, reassure her that things would be fine, and that life had to go on for her, but he did not trust himself. Coupled with dodgy clothes and an even dodgier haircut, the emaciated look did not suit her; but as she said, what did looks matter? He could not help but stare at the lines that had appeared on her brow. Haunted shadows beneath her eyes showed how months of stress in the past had taken their toll on her; body language and posture spoke more of what she had endured than words could, and Phil had to admit he was glad she was back.

  ‘Your destiny has been fulfilled, Gloria,’ he said softly. ‘You went to the past, became Ria Snowfield and married James Trevayne, then bore his daughter, and all three of you died as Neville Manor burned. Just be grateful that your destiny brought you back to your own time, to all the other people who love you and care about you! Now, it’s all over. Isabella’s left you, and Peter’s left me, and we can all just get on with our lives again.’

  Her mind in turmoil, Gloria nodded falteringly. ‘I guess so.’

  Suddenly the pair heard feet running up the path, round to the back of the house, and a female shriek. ‘The back door’s been kicked in! Gloria! Gloria, are you there? Are you all right?’

  Gloria managed a weak tearful smile, recognising Louise’s voice. She looked up as her friend appeared from the kitchen, closely followed by George Palmer. Both brandished logs they had picked up from the garden. ‘I’m here, and I’m okay.’

  Still brandishing the log, Louise advanced menacingly upon Phil, having noticed Gloria’s tearstained and bruised face, not to mention her generally dishevelled appearance. ‘Get away from her, you fiend!’

  ‘It’s okay, Lou, it’s all over. Peter and Isabella Neville are no longer with us!’

  Louise dropped the log and ran to her friend, throwing her arms around Gloria’s neck. ‘Oh, thank God! Your mother was concerned because the phone went dead a bit earlier. What happened to the back door? What’s happened in here?’ She leaned away from her friend as she surveyed the mild carnage in the living room, and then she recoiled in horror as she felt Gloria’s ribs through the peculiar clothes she was wearing. ‘My God, what happened to you? You’re so thin!’

  George remained in the doorway, regarding the scenario curiously. Phil could see him from the corner of his eye. It was almost as though for some reason the man was gauging the situation, as if he was planning his next course of action. There was something oddly familiar about George, which Phil could not quite put his finger on.

  Aware of Phil’s scrutiny, George turned to face him, beaming broadly and betraying none of his true feelings. ‘So you are the one possessed by the spirit of Peter Neville?’

  His words caught Phil by surprise. ‘I guess so. I can’t really remember much about it. It’s all just a bit of a blur!’

  ‘I am certain it is thus,’ George said in a condescending voice. ‘Though rather convenient, this tale of possession, think you not?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Phil, moving closer to George.

  As he approached, George lowered his voice. ‘I have borne witness to enough rogues who might lie with a married woman to know such a man when I see him! You and Miss Schofield have used this tale to shield your affair from prying eyes! I for one believe not in possession. When a person dies, their spirit flits not from one person to another afore choosing a new host like some parasite! It is a good excuse, I grant you; a tale so ridiculous that people might actually believe it to be truth! You might continue your affair quite legitimately, claiming each time you lie together that you are under the influence of Peter and Isabella!’

  Phil was shocked. ‘Is that what you really think? I don’t care what you think of me, because I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but Gloria deserves more respect than that!’

  George waved his hand dismissively. ‘Whatever! To be honest, I care not one way or the other! As I say, I have wi
tnessed enough such affairs to know it is nothing more than fornication!’

  ‘And is that what is going on with you and Louise, just fornication?’

  George glared at Phil, fury in his eyes. ‘Stay out of my affairs, Peter Neville, and I shall stay out of yours!’

  ‘I’m not Peter Neville. My name is Phil McFadyen!’

  ‘Whatever! Remember, stay out of my business, and I shall keep quiet about your affair with Miss Schofield when Master Barncroft returns!’

  That seemed to settle things as far as George was concerned.

  It also settled things as far as Phil was concerned – George Palmer was up to something, and it was going to be up to him to keep an eye on the shady character!

  Phil turned his attention back to the two women seated on the sofa, hugging one another tightly, their heads bent together as they whispered in an almost conspiratorial manner. He wondered what they were discussing – him, it seemed, when they glanced in his direction, or perhaps George, who still stood just behind him.

  ‘Well, you can relax again now,’ Phil heard Louise say to Gloria as he moved closer, as much to get away from George as to hear what the two women were saying. ‘You have all the time in the world.’

  Gloria laughed mirthlessly, wiping her eyes as more tears threatened to spill from them. ‘Time, it seems, is something I have in abundance! Past, present and future!’

  ‘Have you yet discovered how it is you are able to travel in time?’ asked George as he followed Phil into the room. The two men hovered uncertainly near the chair to the left of the sofa, and Phil sank into in hastily.

  Gloria frowned as she saw Phil shake his head ever so slightly in warning. He need not have bothered. Louise had told her of George’s odd desire to visit both her and her grandmother in London, and now another question to cause further consternation. Much as she liked her gardener, something altogether peculiar about his present manner disturbed her... something about both his demeanour and his voice, which Louise’s subconscious had also finally revealed to her.