Unbeknown by anyone, a small camera crew that were beginning to pack away their equipment after filming the scenes of the re-enactment all afternoon, had observed the fight. A very excited director was very pleased with the film they had canned and even more delighted with the last scene they had captured. They had caught a skirmish occurring away from the main battle, with exceptionally good combat skills. Most of the day's filming she could use within her bigger project, but the small clash at the end provided her with what she was really looking for. She needed actors that had authentic battle-honed fighting ability for the film she was making and she had seen not just one, but several in the last few moments.
Turning to her assistant she said, "John, I have to see some people. I'll be back in a bit. You'll be alright seeing to the packing away. I'll see you back at the bus in a while."
"Sure thing, Debbie!"
She hurried through the crowds, trying to keep the small group in her sight. She very nearly lost them, as a group crossed her path carrying the remnants of a Saxon cottage, but she relocated them walking slowly towards the village.
Peter saw a dark haired, serious looking woman striding purposefully across the fields towards their group and he instantly recognised her intent to approach them. Alarmed, he turned to the others and was about to warn them when...
"You there! Wait a moment! I want to speak to you."
Peter quickly turned back around to be faced with a slightly red-faced, middle aged woman who was clearly out of breath.
"I am glad I've caught you. Do you mind if I ask you a few things? I saw your performance during the re-enactment and I was very impressed, very impressed. Are you part of a troupe? Your swordsmanship was amazing and you are just what I am looking for. Sorry! Sorry! I should have introduced myself to you. I am Debbie Mathers. Maybe you have heard of me?"
The group clearly had never heard of her and the blank looks gave this fact away.
"Well, never matter. I am a film director. You've probably heard of some of my films and TV series: Day of the Mayflower, Prisoner of Campion, Rothschild or maybe The Last Uprising? No?"
Still even more puzzled expressions.
"Well never mind! You probably don't get out much. Anyway, I am going into production of my new film, 'The New Realm', and your group has the skills that I am looking for. Your armed routines are incredibly authentic and I need you for my film. What do you say? This could be a great opportunity if you are available for the next week. I came to the re-enactment to capture some background footage and I just saw you in action. I was mightily impressed. What do you say? Free board and lodging, seven days of filming and five hundred pounds apiece."
It dawned on Peter, Hardgrist and the small group of Vikings what was being offered, but Nightjar and Ravenscort were clearly baffled. Hardgrist was the first to reply.
"Well, that sounds a good deal to me. I am at your service madam. I have nothing else planned for the week. What about you lads?"
There was agreement from three of the Vikings, but unfortunately, a refusal from the others.
"Sorry, but I am back at work on Monday."
"Me too. Sorry about that. Sounds like a good deal."
There were other refusals, but then Peter turned to his companions.
"We could do it. We have nothing else to do," and he gave the two a quick wink.
Clearly, the signal was universal as both seemed to grasp the meaning and muttered agreement.
"Wonderful! Do you have transport? If not I can arrange it for you. We are filming at Chadwell Castle and all board is provided."
"I know Chadwell Castle," said Hardgrist, " and we have a minibus. When do you want us?"
"Can you get there tonight?"
"Sure can. Who do we ask for again?"
"Just ask for Debbie Mathers and they'll send you through to me."
Hardgrist turned to Peter's group, "Do you need a lift? We have our bus. I could pick you up when I have taken back those who need to go home. I could meet you in the village square at say, five o'clock?"
"Sounds great to me," said Peter. "That just gives us time to sort ourselves out. Mind you, we don't have a change of clothing or anything like that."
"Don't worry. We can sort you out at the Castle. This is a big production and I'll get wardrobe to kit you out in civvies. Well, that's all settled then. I'll see you tonight. We will have a cast and crew meeting after dinner. Talk to you then!"
Without further ado, she turned and marched back to her crew that was still packing the film equipment away. Peter felt quite relieved, as this sorted out what to do for at least the next week. It also took them away from where the wolves were looking for them.
Hardgrist and his fellow Vikings made their farewells, with arrangements to meet them in the square later, and the three travellers found themselves left amongst the rapidly disappearing crowds. Everything had been a blur and the sudden pause came as both a relief and a shock.
Nightjar was the first to react, "What have we agreed to, Peter? What does that woman want with us?"
There followed a long conversation where Peter tried to explain what film and TV programmes were, to two people who had experienced neither. In fact, the whole concept was bedevilled by concepts such as electricity, acting and entertainment. At the end neither Nightjar, nor Ravenscort seemed to have grasped the full implication of acting apart from it being make-believe. He did explain that their needs would be met for a week and that this would enable them to make plans. Time was needed for reflection on everything that had happened and this would give them this time. All agreed that this was opportune, but Peter felt that there was one major stumbling block.
"There is one problem, Nightjar. Your eyes!"
Nightjar looked shocked, "What is wrong with my eyes?"
A puzzled look passed across her face and Peter realised that he had hurt her feelings. She may be some sort of warrior fairy, but she still had emotions like other girls. He quickly tried to correct himself.
"I am sorry. There is nothing wrong with your eyes. They are really quite beautiful."
Nightjar displayed another, but different look and Peter blushed a deep red.
"I...I...I," he stammered, "I mean your eyes are perfect for Demeter, but no one has eyes like yours here. You have truly beautiful eyes."
"Do you think so?"
A wry smile appeared on Ravenscort's face as he witnessed Peter's difficulty and he offered the boy no escape from the embarrassing hole he had dug himself.
Peter started wandering across the field. His attention was on the ground and the two others just stood and watched. His search took him over a wide area and sometimes he would stoop to look at the ground, occasionally pick something up, look at it and then drop it. This continued for quite a long time and Nightjar and Ravenscort were beginning to grow impatient, when from across the field they heard Peter cry out, wave something above his head and start running back to them. He arrived back slightly out of breath, but smiling.
"Found some! I bet someone would have lost a pair in all the crowd that was here."
"What are you talking about? What are those?" asked Nightjar.
"These are the answer to your problem." replied Peter.
"I don't have a problem," she said slightly offended.
"What is that thing?"
"These are sunglasses. Someone must have dropped them. These are a good pair of Aviators."
He held out a pair of sunglasses, with large dark lenses. They had bronze metal frames and were in surprisingly good condition. He offered them to Nightjar and said,
"Try them on. They'll suit you. Let me help!"
He lifted them up to her face, positioned them on her nose and hooked them behind her ears. He felt a strange discomfort being so close to her and he found his heart beat just a little faster. Nightjar moved her head as if getting used to the strange device that was now fitted to her. She looked around and stared up towards the sun.
"They make everything darke
r. Why would these help me?"
"They are designed to stop bright sunlight dazzling you. They do suit you. The important part is that they cover your eyes. Anyone looking at you now will not know that your eyes are in any way different."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, here on Earth, no one else has eyes like yours. Without the sunglasses anyone would know that there was something strange about you, but with them on no one can tell."
"What do you mean strange?" and again there was a tone to her voice.
"No, not strange, just different. Your eyes are beautiful, but they do make you stand out and will draw attention."
At this, Nightjar seemed a little placated, and she replied, " I will wear them. I do think we should avoid drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves."
"Better get to the village to meet the Vikings," said Peter trying to change the subject.
Nightjar strode off ahead of the other two and Ravenscort turned to Peter and said, "Well, you do have a way of charming the ladies Peter."
"What do you mean? What have I said?" Peter asked.
Ravenscort did not reply, but maintained his wry smile. The two hurried to catch up with the girl in front as she strode purposefully towards the village square.
The minibus pulled into a parking spot as the three arrived. Hardgrist was just opening the door and he greeted them with,
"Hi! Glad you've got here. Jump in and we'll get off! Like the sunglasses," he said to Nightjar as she climbed onto the bus.
"Don't mention them again," whispered Peter, as he followed the still smiling Ravenscort aboard.
Chapter 12 - Chadwell Castle
The drive took about an hour and, apart from the three companions, the rear of the bus was filled with half a dozen Vikings, but now they were in their civvies. There was a friendly greeting from them and the three took their seats. The journey was uneventful, but Nightjar and Ravenscort carried expressions of high anxiety and fear, never having been in a vehicle of any sort. For them the journey held both wonderment and apprehension. Every turn, bump and stop went unnoticed by the others, but provided a real cultural challenge to the two newcomers. The view outside the windows was gentle rolling countryside, clearly not natural, but the result of generations of farmers and landowners adding their bit to the rural scene. Finally, the road turned a corner between a stone wall and two large houses. The bus pulled to a halt at the side of the road in front of a wide gateway and gravelled track that led up an incline. Before them was an ancient church and equally old graveyard. The area was quiet, but the cry of a rooster split the silence and the party watched the bird strut along the roadside and then enter the garden of the large house, where a few chickens seemed at home.
The bus doors were slammed shut and the party strode up the roadway, through the gates, and they were suddenly met by the imposing sight of a large castle nestled within woodlands and parklands. The castle just stood there, dark stone imposing. No boundary wall was apparent, but four tall towers dominated the scene. Between the towers additions filled in the space with supplementary structures and a narrow gateway led inwards, enticing and yet threatening those who approached. The castle was commanding, a solid statement inviting any who dare to attack it. The small party just gawped for a few moments before approaching the entrance and there they were met by Debbie Mathers, who was as loud and ebullient as ever.
"Welcome to Chadwell Castle! I'm so glad you decided to join us. I am sure that you will enjoy the experience of working on the film set. Any of you done it before? No? Well never mind. You'll soon settle into it. Follow me and I'll show you to your accommodation."
Giving them no opportunity to speak, she whisked them through the gates and away into the stable section of the castle that had been renovated and converted into holiday flats. The Viking group was provided with a large section with double bedrooms, but Peter, Ravenscort and Hardgrist were given a smaller unit with three bedrooms. Being the only female, Nightjar had a single unit and all had separate bathrooms and kitchens.
Debbie informed them, "I know you have your own kitchens, but the meals will be provided in the Lower Hall. I hope you find the accommodation to your liking. There are others staying here, but most of the crew are in the village. They stayed here at first, but they seem to prefer to get away from work at night. Dinner tonight will be at 8.00pm sharp and we will then have a briefing session and I will let you know the timetable for tomorrow. I have arranged for wardrobe to come up and see you three in a moment. They'll suit you out with civvies and take measurements for costumes etc."
She stared at Nightjar and there was an uneasy silence for a moment.
"Take your sunglasses off, will you?"
Reluctantly she did and Peter's heart was in his mouth. Debbie gazed at Nightjar's eyes and then stated.
"I thought so. Contact lenses! Very impressive! Don't take them out. They are just what we need for your part. It will save the girls having to get some for you. I do say this is turning out to be a very good day! See you at dinner!"
She strode off and the group of four were left standing in the corridor.
Their rooms were adjacent and it suddenly dawned on Peter that Nightjar and Ravenscort would need some assistance in basic housekeeping for the twenty-first century facilities.
"Hardgrist?" said Peter.
"Call me Roger. I'm Roger Farr. Pleased to meet you."
He extended his hand and there was a round of introductions and hand shaking.
"I'm Peter Calender, Nightjar and this Ravenscort. "
"Pleased to meet you" said Hardgrist.
"And you," said Peter. "Would you mind if you got yourself settled whilst I have a bit of time with these two. Have whichever room you like. We'll be through in a minute."
"Suits me."
Roger took his bags into the boys' rooms and Peter hurried the others into Nightjar's. As he shut the door, Peter sighed with relief and he turned to Nightjar.
"Well that solves that then. What a stroke of luck! She thinks your eyes are contact lenses."
"What are contact lenses?"
There followed a few minutes of difficult explanation, but eventually Nightjar seemed to get the idea.
"Sorry about that," said Peter, but I also need to explain and show you how some of things in the rooms work."
The electric lights were a fascination to the two and there was much flicking of switches. After a while, Peter took the stunned pair into the bathroom and began to explain and show them how to operate the sink taps, the shower and finally and with great embarrassment, how to use the toilet.
Nightjar and Ravenscort followed the instructions and there was an element of surprise and shock, mixed with joy, when they realised that the shower provided hot water. Explanation of soap, towels and other accoutrements seemed to particularly interest Nightjar. Peter felt he had covered the basics and ushered Ravenscort out to their own quarters to give Nightjar some privacy.
Roger, or should I say Hardgrist, had settled in and was reclining on the bed in the largest bedroom.
"Well, you said I could chose," he reminded them.
"That's fine," said Peter and he and Ravenscort took the other bedrooms. Both felt in need of a good clean after all that had happened. There were blood stains on clothing and Ravenscort still had the gash on his face to clean up. Peter sent him into the bathroom first and then thought he'd better check on how Nightjar was and see if she needed any assistance.
He left his room, padded down the corridor and knocked gently on the door. Without thinking, he pushed it open and walked in and started to say,
"Nightjar I just wanted to check if you were...."
Nightjar was just walking out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Her long silver hair was wet and fell around her shoulders and her almond eyes stared at him with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
"Peter?"
"I,I,I,I,I just wanted to check that you were alright."
He stared at her, mesmerised. He
caught his breath and his heart pounded in his chest. Realising that he was standing only inches away from this partially dressed beautiful creature, he felt his skin redden. He gulped and stammered.
"OH! I'm so sorry, Nightjar. I never, I mean, I didn't think. OOOH!"
She looked down and then raised her eyes to him. She was so close to him that he could feel her breath. She looked quizzically at him and their eyes locked.
"Thank you, Peter. I enjoyed that, what did you call it, shower? Your world has much to teach us on Demeter."
The tension broke when there was a knock on the door and Ravenscort walked in.
"His eyebrows shot up as he saw the two and his inscrutable smile returned.
"Sorry to interrupt, but there is a woman, says she is from wardrobe, here to sort out some clothing for us. She wants to do the men first and she'll come in here to help Nightjar afterwards."
"Thank you. I'll come now and no, you weren't interrupting anything."
"Clearly not!"
Ravenscort left the room with an even broader grin. Peter went to follow, then turned to Nightjar.
"I! I! I!"
Red faced he turned and followed back to his room leaving Nightjar, with an equally enigmatic smile, as she shut the door.
Back in his room two women were busy measuring Hardgrist and tutting as they made notes in a pad. Peter, feeling very hot with embarrassment, decided he was in need of a shower before he was ready for measuring. He entered the steamy bathroom and stripped off his soiled clothing. He wiped the mirror and suddenly staggered back from the face that was staring back at him. It was not a face he recognised. The features were his, but this face was older, more mature. There was stubble, a broadness of jaw line and a depth to the eyes that was foreign to him. His body had also changed. His frame was thicker. There was more muscle mass and an athleticism that was new. Clearly it was him, but he had changed dramatically. The events had not just changed his understanding of the world, educated him beyond his years, but they had clearly matured him physically. Was it just the strains and challenges of the trail, outdoors, pursuit and battle, or was it more? How long had he been on Demeter? Maybe time was different there? Everything else was different, so why shouldn't time be?
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 11