The Digger's Rest

by K. Patrick Malone

  Once they’d laid out everything, it took her all of fifteen minutes to pitch the tent. It took a lot out of her, but it was worth it. When she was done, she took a bow for her astonished audience, as they clapped and cheered. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s get back to work. I’d like to see if we can get that granite cross to stand before we leave today,” she ordered, shooing them back to the site like a mother hen with her chicks.

  Everyone gathered around the cross, ropes in hand, except for Malcolm. He went back to his pit. He was just about to clear an area of floor space before lunch was called and he wanted to at least get that much done before they left for the day.

  With Mitch, Deck, Simon and Lady Madeline to do the loosening of the remaining soil around the cross, no one really noticed that Malcolm had gone back to the pit, until he called out. “I’ve found something over here!” he shouted.

  “Hold on Mal, we’ve just about got this thing standing. Come over and give us a hand,” Mitch called to him, Deck by his side, both of them grunting and growling with the effort it was taking to get the thing to stand upright while Simon and Lady Madeline cleared the area around the base to give it a flat place to land.

  Malcolm ran over and grabbed the rope with his brother. “Heave!” Mitch started calling out rhythmically. “Heave! Heave! Heave.” They were almost there. As Mitch was grunting and pulling, he had a funny thought; it reminded him of what the ancient Egyptians must have gone through to raise the obelisks. “Almost there, guys,” he grunted and pulled. “One last good one and we should have it.

  “HEAVE!” and the great stone cross tipped upright on its base, towering at least eight feet above them, and casting its shadow directly over Simon. He looked up at it, his eyes wide, dwarfed by not only the size of it, but also by its symbolism. His first inclination was to kneel before it and cross himself; he was a child of Holy Family, after all. But he resisted. Science is no place for religion, he thought to himself, then again, …or is it?

  Once it was standing, Deck and Lady Madeline pressed enough soil and clumps of heavy mud around the base to keep it securely upright. Simon started clicking and filming away. Mitch just stood back to look at it, taking stock of what it was, what it meant, and…what it was doing there. “Jack is gonna love this,” he said out loud as they all gathered around the cross so Simon could take pictures and film them smiling proudly, chests out with their first significant find.

  Malcolm backed away from it slowly. He was about twenty feet away when he thought he heard the call of the owl again and looked over to the trees in the area where he’d been working. There it was on the lowest branch, sitting there. Staring at him with its huge yellow eyes, it called again and he walked over to his pit. “Dr. Bramson,” Malcolm called to him. “I really think you should take a look at this.”

  Mitch went over and looked into the pit. The first things he noticed were several large, oblong clumps, black and still partially covered in mud. He jumped into the pit and picked one up, wiping it on his shirt. “It’s a piece of wood, burnt. The black is the charred outside.” He picked up another one, and another one; between ten and twelve inched long and five or six inches wide with squared edges along the sides, jagged at the ends as if they’d been broken off.

  “Definitely man-made,” Lady Madeline said, standing next to the pit behind Mitch. He handed her the largest piece. “Furniture,” she said confidently. “…maybe a table leg. Or a chair leg. Look around it, Mitchell, see if you can see a layer of soot and where it might be in relation to the floor if you can.” Mitch got down on his hands and knees, gently using the spade to carve out a square of packed clay near where he’d picked up one of the pieces. He handed the square to Lady Madeline.

  She turned and held it in the palm of her hand toward the light. “What was beneath this, Mitchell?” she asked still surveying the square.

  “I pulled it directly up off the floor surface,” he said.

  “Then the castle was burned while it still stood,” she said. “There’s a thin layer of carbon at the bottom of this clump and you say there’s nothing but the floor beneath it? The castle was burned,” she repeated.

  Malcolm looked up into the tree again. The owl was gone and the sun was getting low in the sky.

  The day was done, and what a day it had been, not bad for the first day out. “Good job,” Mitch said, patting Malcolm on the back as they headed down the path towards the SUV.

  “Thank you, Dr. Bramson. It has been a rather exciting day, and for my part, I could really use a pint when we get back.” Mal said, feeling full with a sense of accomplishment he never expected he would get when he signed onto the project, making him not sorry he had.

  ***

  When they got back to the inn, Ivy was at the podium, having taken on the additional duty since her brothers were going to be gone most days on the project. No sooner had she hit the door, Lady Madeline went toward the hallway leading to the cottage to check on Sandrine. Just as she was about to go through the door to the courtyard, Jed came through from the opposite direction. “How is she?” Lady Madeline asked, feeling a rush of guilt for having left her for the day.

  “She’s well,” Jed said smiling slightly. “She still can’t bear to look at anything close to a bright light and the medication seems to make her sleepy, but otherwise she’s fine. She ate well, and I’ve been reading to her most of the day. She’s just gone off to sleep again now, so I thought I would come out and see if there was something I could do out here.” Relieved, Lady Madeline went straight to her own room to freshen up thinking, Quite frankly, I could use a pint or two myself.

  Back at the podium, Mitch stood behind the others, trying to avoid any objects the redhead might send flying his way. He let Deck go on telling Ivy what an exciting day he’d had while Malcolm resumed his innkeeper posture before going upstairs to clean up for his evening shift. While Ivy was occupied with her brothers, Mitch slid away behind Deck using Simon as a shield to slip past her unobserved into the hallway towards the cottage.

  Later that evening, Mitch was grateful to find that Fi would be serving their celebration dinner, relieved that he’d managed a whole day without an encounter with that woman. From there they all agreed it was a good night for pubbing and a few drinks wouldn’t be out of line. Once again grateful to see Malcolm behind the bar instead of that woman, Mitch ordered a round of drinks for all of them, Malcolm, Deck and Jed, too. He’d done his part that morning by taking care of Sandrine so that Lady Madeline could come out with them.

  For the first two rounds, all Mitch had to deal with from that woman was the sound of her voice calling out through the kitchen doors to Fi or Deck that dinners were ready for pick up.

  By the third round, Malcolm began looking flushed and tired; his forehead beaded with sweat. It had been a long day after all, and Mitch found himself hoping that the double-duty shift work wasn’t going to prove too much for him. Then his luck ran out.

  Ivy Farthing came out through the kitchen door and went behind the bar, standing next to Mal to pour herself a pint. She looked at Mal as she took a long sip, noticing the flushed, tired look on his face. She put down her glass and reached out to put her hand on his forehead. “You have a fever, Mal,” she said, loving devotion and concern replacing the usual anger and bitterness in her eyes. “I think you’re coming down with something.”

  “I’m fine, Ivy,” he said, brushing it off and wiping his forehead with a bar towel.

  “You’re not fine. I’ve seen you with everything from the flu to the trots, and I know!” she said stubbornly. “I’ll take over. You go take some aspirin and go to bed,” she ordered.

  “Oh, Ivy, please. I’m just having fun,” he whined reverting to his childhood role; she being the older sibling and he the younger.

  “Oh, Ivy, please nothing,” she said, standing her ground and pushing him gently back towards the kitchen. “If you don’t get some rest, you won’t be able to go out and play with your friends again tomorrow,” she said
sarcastically, shooting daggers at Mitch with her eyes.

  “Oh, alright,” Mal said with a sigh, giving in to her and waving back at his friends as he went through the door.

  By the time Ivy had come back to the bar, Mitch was gone, moved over to a small table with Simon and Lady Madeline. They hadn’t been seated for more than a few minutes when Simon started to get that feeling again, the one that told him that he wasn’t alone. He looked over to the window by the front of the pub and saw the old man sitting there. They found it, did they not? the soundless voice asked him.

  “Yes,” Simon said out loud, forgetting to use his own soundless voice.

  “What?” Mitch asked him.

  “Oh, nothing,” Simon said. “I was just thinking out loud,” He looked back toward the window. The old man was smiling and raising his beer to him. Thou art a good boy, Holly, the soundless voice said to him. Simon blushed and went back to the audible conversation that was going on in front of him at the table, sketching the Celtic cross they’d found on the paper placemat.

  ***

  Lady Madeline left the table about an hour later, feeling the fatigue of the day and anxious to get into her comfortable flannel nightgown and relax. When she got to her room, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before in her rush to get cleaned up to meet the others for dinner, a large cardboard box in the corner next to the dressing table, filled with bubble wrap. Then it dawned on her. Tim Ransom had promised that he would have her purchases sent over that day.

  She went over to the box, found an envelope on the top and opened it. It was an invoice for only her purchases, with a note from Ransom saying what a pleasure it was to meet her and that she should come back anytime she pleased.

  She took the note and went over to her dressing table. What a nice gentleman, she mused, as she put on her nightgown then sat down again at the dressing table to go through her nightly youth enhancing regimen of creams and masques, combing her hair back in the mirror and putting on her headband before she got started. After she put on her first preparation, which was to be left on for fifteen minutes before removing it, she looked over at the box thinking that with all that had gone on she really couldn’t remember all that she bought. “Well, I might as well take another look,” she said to herself and went over to the box.

  She picked up the item on the very top first. She couldn’t imagine what it was. She didn’t remember buying anything square. She took the bubble-wrapped square and went back over to sit by the light of the dressing table to open it. When she undid the taped bubble wrap, she saw it was a box, a small, antique, mahogany box with a brass label on the top, “Gilberts & Sons, London, 1861.”

  “This must be some sort of mistake,” she said to herself out loud as she sat the box down on the dressing table. Pausing only for a moment to admire the fine woodworking and quality finish, she opened it. It was a glass ball the size of a man’s fist. By then it was time for her to remove her first masque and apply the second, a moisturizer. After she applied her moisturizer, she looked back at the crystal ball in the box.

  The play of light from the table lamp seemed to give the appearance of movement inside. She leaned over to look at it more closely. There was movement. It can’t be, she told herself as she picked up the ball and held it to the light. There was movement, but she couldn’t make it out without her reading glasses. She put them on then looked again; it was a man, in a wheel chair, Neville. He was falling out of the chair, convulsing violently; having another stroke. There was a flash of blue light and she saw he was on the floor, crawling with one good arm, calling out to her, his mouth contorted grotesquely, “Maddie, I’m dying. I need you. Please, Maddie, I don’t want to die without you,” he called to her. His face came up closer in the ball, distorted like she was seeing him in a fun house mirror.

  A noise came from the room next door and she jumped. When she opened her eyes she was staring straight into the mirror, the ball still in its box. She got up in a panic and went to the telephone, dialing Cotswold Manor. It was busy. She dialed again and again, it was still busy. Frustrated she sat back down at the dressing table, waiting until she could try again, worry swirling through her mind. She looked at the ball again and saw more movement inside.

  She picked it up again and looked. He was there again, calling to her. “Maddie, please. I’m dying.” Half his face was drooping like melted wax, one eye closed. He was having another stroke…a bad one. She dropped the ball on the floor. It rolled away from her, toward the bed. She got up and went after it, then went back the dressing table to look into it again in the light. She had to know what was happening. When she did, Neville lying on the floor, he was completely still, dead; then a flash of blue light. She screamed, “Neville!” and passed out, hitting her head on the hardwood edge of the dressing table as she went down.

  When she woke up close to morning, she packed her bags as quickly as she could and left, out of the inn, without a word to anyone. All she could hear was the sound of Neville’s voice calling to her and the look on his face, pleading with her to come to him. She had to get there. She drove at top speed the entire ride. She had no time to waste.

  Chapter XIV

  MALCOLM

  Boy: Yes! Yes! On a hot summer night would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?

  Girl: Yes!

  Boy: I bet you say that to all the boys.

  It was a hot summer night and the beach was

  burning There was a fog crawling over the sand, When I listen to your heart I hear the whole world

  turning. I see the shooting stars falling through your trembling hands.

  You Took the Words right Out of My Mouth,

  ………As performed by Meatloaf

  The next morning when they gathered at breakfast getting ready to go back out to the site, Lady Madeline was conspicuously absent. Always the first to arrive, it didn’t dawn on anyone that there might be something wrong until after they’d done eating and Mitch looked at his watch. It was 8:30 and still no sign of Lady Madeline. Maybe she overslept, he thought, wondering how to delicately approach the situation, deciding it was probably best if he went up himself.

  When he got to her door, he knocked, softly at first; then harder when he got no response. It worried him. Lady Madeline was definitely not the kind to, first, oversleep, and second, sleep though a loud knock like his, so he headed back to the inn for help, hoping for the ridiculous, that she slept with ear plugs in her ears.

  On the way back, he bumped into Fi and asked her if she could come to Lady Madeline’s with a room key and they rushed back. Once the door was opened and they saw that Lady Madeline wasn’t even in the room, Mitch gave a great sigh of relief. “Maybe she got up and went out early for a walk.”

  Fi, on the other hand, being a woman and noticing things only a woman would notice, pointed to the dressing table. It was empty. “Shay’s gawn,” she said and walked freely into the room to check around. She went straight to the closet and opened it. It was empty. “Shay’s left,” Fi said to Mitch and shrugged. “Look, bed ain’t even been sleapt in,” she said as she went to the bathroom. “Aynd look. Shay’s taken everythin’ out of ‘ere, too.”

  Mitch looked around with his hands on his hips, astounded. Where could she have gone…and why? he thought to himself but said nothing. What the fuck is going on around here?

  Having no choice but to go back to the inn and tell everyone, Mitch struggled with himself. First Sandrine has a fit, now Lady Madeline disappears without a word, and according to Fi’s observations, of her own free will. Everything seemed to be falling apart and just when they were starting to make some headway. His confusion started to turn to anger and frustration. Doesn’t anyone understand how fucking important this is to me, to the world, to history?

  When he got back to the table, everyone looked at him expectantly. “She’s gone,” he said simply.

  “Gone?” they all repeated, looking at him. “Gone where?”

  “She’
s just left, packed her bags and left. Simon, please do me a favor. When you email Jack tonight tell him that Lady Cotswold has unexpectedly abandoned the project and that that we’ll go on with it by ourselves, along with my usual message. Then try and contact Lord Cotswold and see if he knows anything. This is fucking ridiculous,” he said taking a deep breath, frustrated.

  “Yes, sir,” Simon replied, knowing Mitch well enough to see how he upset he was. “Is there anything else I can do?” he said, looking at Mitch with his big blue eyes, wanting to help him somehow but not knowing what to do.

  “Nah, that’ll do for now. Just don’t you go running off on me, okay?” Mitch said kidding, shaking his head and rolling his eyes to heaven.

  “I would never…” Simon replied seriously, saying the only thing he could think of to try and reassure him.

  “No, I know you wouldn’t,” Mitch said, putting his hand on his back. Simon flinched only slightly but enough for Mitch to pick up on it. “You still achy?” he asked.

  “Just a little,” Simon answered, then continued quickly. “I guess I’m not used to all this physical stuff,” and he smiled and shrugged, fighting back the urge to wince as he moved his shoulders.

  “Well, we’ll make sure you don’t have to do anything too physical today. How’s that?” Simon nodded and blushed. He would never get over loving the way Dr. Bramson made him feel special, cared about and valued, never as long as he lived…or died.

  “Okay, men, we might as well carry on,” Mitch said, waving his hand for them to follow him out.

  Back at the site, Mitch let Malcolm go back to his pit with instructions to continue clearing the space down to the floor. He was going to work with Deck to start counting and numbering the extraneous sandstone blocks that had fallen both inside and outside of the perimeter wall. Simon was to canvas the other side of the central building floor with a metal detector to see if he got any readings and flag them if he did.