A Night in the Manx Museum

by Michele McGrath

  He left me then. Later that evening, I spoke with Brodir. Sadly, Brodir and I had never been close, as I had been with Ospak and Knut before they went away. Brodir had never ceased to treat me with the arrogance of a grown man to his little sister, seeing always my sex and never accepting my gifts as the others did.

  ‘What can you tell me then, sister?’ he asked but his tone of voice told me that he would not believe anything that I could tell him. I had been taught long ago that it was my role to describe the future that I saw in my dreams; belief belonged to the person whose future I foretold. So I said, without hesitation, ‘You will win great renown in the coming battle because the Irish King Brian will die at your hand, but…’ I hesitated.

  ‘But…?’ he prompted me, scornfully.

  ‘You will be taken by the Irish and tortured to death.’

  He laughed raucously, ‘So you expect me to turn aside from the battle like a craven, as you have already counselled our brother. He is a fool to believe your air dreaming.’

  ‘I expect nothing,’ I said. ‘The choice is yours to make, as it is Ospak’s. I merely foretell.’

  ‘And your dreams tell you that I will slay the King and win renown?’

  I nodded, ‘At the cost of an agonising death.’

  ‘That is a price a warrior should be willing to pay for lasting fame, little sister. After all, only half of your dream might be true!’ He rose to leave me, but I put out a hand and daringly caught at his sleeve in my distress. Tears were running down my cheeks. I could not stop them.

  ‘Brodir, I would not have you go to your death.’

  He brushed my hand away and said harshly, ‘Do not fret. If your words are true, my fame will ring down the years. If not, I will return to remind you of them.’

  I smiled, through my tears, ‘Come back then and remind me. I would welcome being wrong on this occasion. Return alive, brother.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I shall!’

  He laughed and strode from the room. That is the last time I saw my brother, Brodir. Next day his ships were gone from the bay, making for Ireland, where he joined the Viking fleet. Months later, Ospak returned to tell me that my dreams had indeed come true. Brodir did kill Brian Boru and was caught and tortured to death. The minstrels sing of the battle to this day. Ospak had heeded my warning and fought with the Irish. Ospak’s ships returned loaded with Irish silver, which he brought back to the island, where he lived and ruled in great comfort. I remained here in his household for the rest of my life, greatly honoured by his people. My daughter married again and my grandson became one of his finest captains.”

  Ragna shook herself, suddenly, and smiled at the two girls, “And that is how I came to the island.” She looked round. “What a long time we have been. The fire is almost burned out, I must gather some wood.”

  Sophie and Ellen thanked her for her story and Sophie asked if she could come back again soon.

  “What did you think of that?” Sophie asked as they left the village.

  “It was very strange. Do you think it could possibly be true?”

  “Ragna doesn’t tell lies and she believes it to be true,” Sophie said.

  “It made me feel all funny inside, sort of frightened. I really wanted her brothers to believe her and to live.”

  “Ospak did. But it all happened ever so long ago. Mamma told me, when I first heard the story, that King Brian had died centuries ago. Ragna must be very very old and Ospak and Brodir were older than she was. ”

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “Neither do I really, so it’s no use thinking about it. Come on, what we need is to do something different. Let’s go and visit Monarch.”

  “Who is Monarch? You keep talking about him.”

  “You’ll see.”

  Chapter Five: Monarch’s Ride.

  “Look up!” Ellen looked up and gasped. The candlelight sparkled on a pair of dark eyes and his antlers cast huge shadows onto the ceiling. The great deer dropped his head until it was on a level with their own and looked at them. Then Ellen heard his deep voice booming inside her head.

  “Good evening, Sophie, I have been waiting for you.”

  Sophie threw her arms round his huge neck and hugged him. He lifted his head, so her feet dangled just above the floor and she giggled. “I’m sorry we were late, Monarch. We were listening to Ragna’s stories.”

  “Oh well. That explains it. Where would you like to go tonight?”

  Ellen suddenly felt very guilty. Monarch was the one who could take her home and it was probably time to go. But she didn’t want to go. She shifted uneasily and the great deer became aware of her presence. He gently lowered Sophie to the floor and turned his head to look at Ellen.

  “And who is this?”

  “This is my friend, Ellen, she’s visiting.”

  “Good evening, Ellen. I usually take Sophie for a ride at this time of night. Would you like to come with us?”

  “Oh please. But I don’t know what to do.”

  “Watch me!” The great deer backed slowly round the corner and crouched down by the staircase. The girls ran up the stairs and climbed onto his back. Ellen’s legs stuck out on either side and she felt most unsteady.

  “Hold onto me.” Ellen put her arms round Sophie’s waist and gripped tight. Sophie had taken a firm hold of Monarch’s neck. With a clatter of hooves, the great deer cantered down the corridor.

  “Take a deep breath,” he said, and they were out in the windy night.

  “How did you do that?” Ellen gasped and felt the deer’s laugh rumble through her body.

  “It’s what you would call magic,” he laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

  Ellen knew that she should say “home” but before she could speak, Sophie answered for them both. “We don’t mind.”

  The great deer cantered down the hill. Everything blurred with the speed of their passage. In seconds, they had reached the sands. The wind whistled in their hair, as he galloped through the waves, splashing them with every stride.

  Although the drops of water cascaded high into the air, and splashed onto her legs, Ellen was surprised to find that she did not get wet. He left the shore and began to climb up into the hills. They were on the headland, high above the town. He stopped and Ellen peered round his neck. Douglas was not there! She looked wildly about her but nothing was the same. Everything was very dark and something huge was glittering in the moonlight up towards the North. It was very cold and she shivered.

  “Where are we?” Her voice was shaking with the cold and a sudden fear. The great deer’s breath was steaming, as he looked out into the darkness.

  “On the headland you call Douglas Head.”

  “But we can’t be,” she gasped. “Where is the town?”

  He turned his head to look at her and his voice was very sad. “The town will be there one day but you are in my time now, before the people came. I stood on this hillside watching the rest of my kin wade through the water to the green land to the East. It was a very long time ago.”

  “Why did you not go with them?”

  “My wife was too ill for the journey and I stayed with her. I always liked it here in these uplands, neither of us wanted to go, although we knew that if we left it any longer, the water would be too deep to cross and we would be cut off. It was growing deeper every day. You could hear the ice cracking all the time as the air became warmer. Streams, where I had drunk when I was a youngster, had turned into mighty rivers or lakes, shallow at first then much deeper. When, at last, my wife was well enough to travel, we tried to follow the herd. We searched for a long time for a way to get through the water, but we had left it too late. The water had become a sea too wide for us to swim across, so we came back.”

  “Where is your wife now?”

  “She died here and men never found her bones. So I am alone of my people.” His voice was very sad. Sophie reached down as far as she could and hugged him.

  “You have us and I love you. We
all do.”

  He shook himself and laughed, “Indeed I do, Little Mischief, and if you are not to turn into an icicle, I had better take you back to the Museum.”

  He made his way swiftly down the hill. They arrived back at the Museum far too soon. The girls were breathless as they slipped from his back.

  “Thank you, Monarch,” said Sophie.

  “It was the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me,” Ellen spluttered, trying to catch her breath.

  “Come again soon, it’s nice to have company and someone new to tell my tale to.”

  “We will!” the girls called as he went, once again, to stand on his platform. As he climbed up, it rocked under his hooves.

  “Will you do something for me?” he asked Ellen.

  “Of course.”

  “Tell the curators to tighten the bolts. They are loose and I could fall on someone.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter Six: The Boarding House.

  Music was still drifting across the corridor as the girls made their way back, carefully avoiding the pagan village. Ellen stopped to listen.

  “Come on,” Sophie said urgently, “if they find us here, they’ll send you home, and you don’t want to go yet, do you?”

  “No, of course I don’t!” Ellen suppressed another pang of conscience at the reminder, but really, she could not go yet. She knew that she would never have such a night again and Daniel really would not be bothered where she was. But the music was enchanting and in spite of herself, she lingered.

  “Let us just hear the end of the song, it’s lovely,” she said.

  “Just till the end and then we must go. You haven’t met Margaret yet.”

  “Who is Margaret?”

  “She’s another friend of mine.”

  “Does she tell stories, too?”

  “No, silly, she’s a little girl like us. She lives in one of the boarding houses on the Prom and it’s fun to play in.”

  They walked away, although Ellen walked as slowly as she could, listening to the music that drifted through the door into the Bay Room. The song ended and they heard the noise of people clapping. Then they heard another sound just ahead of them, from the place where they were making for.

  “Vroom! Vroom!”

  “That sounds just like a motorbike.” Ellen exclaimed.

  “It is a motorbike.”

  “What’s it doing driving around the museum?”

  “People like to look at it. It belonged to Joey Dunlop, you see.”

  “I’ve heard of him. He used to win all the races.”

  “Yes, he was very brave and he’s great fun. He tells really good tales.”

  “I’d like to meet him.”

  Ellen started to walk towards the alcove where two men stood chatting. One was turning the handle of the red and silver bike. They were wearing bright leathers and their helmets were propped beside them. Sophie grabbed Ellen’s sweater and pulled her away, around the corner.

  “Shh! It’s Joey and Mike. They mustn’t see you! ”

  “Why not? They look nice. I want to talk to them. I’ve heard about them all my life.”

  “I can but you can’t!”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Yes it is.” Seeing that Ellen would go back, she hung onto her. “I’ll try to explain the way that it was told to me. Joey and Mike are still partly of your world, as well as partly of mine. There are people still alive who knew them and loved them. If they see you, they will remember your world and those people they loved and they may be sad. It’s not the same for me. I’ve been here such a long time that I can’t remind them of anything. Do you understand?”

  “A little.”

  “If you come back in another generation, you would be able to talk to them then.”

  “I’d be an old woman then, with grey hair and a stick!” Sophie and Ellen both laughed. Then Sophie looked sad.

  “I’d still be a little girl. You wouldn’t want to play with me then.”

  “But I do now. I want to meet Margaret and all your other friends. I won’t be old for ever such a long time. Why think about it?”

  “Come on then.”

  The two girls ran round the corner and jumped onto the platform of the old horse tram that was just leaving the stop.

  “You can see much better from the top.” Sophie led the way up the spiral stairs and walked right to the front. Ellen followed and sat beside her. The car lurched and started to sway. Ellen looked over the railing at the big white horse that was pulling at the traces. The car started to move as the horse plodded along, carrying them down the Promenade.

  “Fares please!” The conductor came up beside them. He was a big man with rosy cheeks and, for a moment, Ellen thought he looked just like her Uncle Jack. Sophie put her hand in her pocket and pulled out two big copper coins.

  “Two halves to Greensill’s Corner, please,” she said.

  “Penny halfpenny.” He punched two cardboard tickets and gave them to her with a small copper coin, which she put back into her pocket.

  “Nice day.”

  “Lovely,” said Sophie.

  “What’s the horse’s name?” Ellen asked, knowing they always had names.

  “Bill. He’s a good’un. Enjoy yourselves.” He climbed back down the stairs as the tram came to a stop.

  Ellen started to get up but Sophie said, “It’s not our stop yet. Margaret lives right down at the other end on the Loch Prom. There are several stops before we get to the right one.”

  Ellen sat back and stared around her. From the top deck of the tram, she could see right out over the bay and even into the first floor bedrooms of the boarding houses. She giggled as she saw a man shaving himself in front of a mirror. He was wearing a string vest and his braces were dangling down his sides. His chin was full of soap. He saw her in his mirror and quickly turned round. Ellen thought that he looked very funny. Further along, a little boy was hanging out of the window and waving. Ellen waved back. He called something, but she could not hear what it was.

  “Look, there’s the Ardrosson boat.” Sophie was pointing. The black and white boat was steaming round Onchan Head, her plume of smoke flying behind her like a veil.

  “How do you know it’s from Ardrosson? Where is Ardrosson anyway?”

  “Scotland. If it’s in close round Onchan Head, it’s from Ardrosson. The Belfast boat is further out. The Fleetwood boat’s at an angle. Liverpool comes from the centre of the bay. The Llandudno and Dublin boats both come round Douglas Head. You can always tell where they come from.”

  “What a lot of boats! There’s only Heysham and Liverpool ones now. Belfast and Dublin boats only sail in the summer.”

  Sophie stared at her. “How do the visitors get here then?” she asked.

  “There aren’t that many of them any more. My grandmother told me that there used to be great crowds of people coming off the boats when she was little, but it isn’t like that now. A lot of people take the plane. ”

  “I’d love to fly. I never was able to. Planes hadn’t been invented. What does it feel like?”

  “It’s boring most of the time. You just see clouds and you seem to crawl, although you are really going very fast. When you are taking off and landing though, that’s exciting because you can see the ground flashing past and you know how fast you are going.”

  “You are lucky. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to do.”

  “Riding Monarch was much more exiting and you can do that whenever you want. I won’t be able to,” Ellen said, trying to cheer her up.

  Something was obviously puzzling Sophie. “If there aren’t many visitors, how do the hotels fill their rooms?”

  “Many of them didn’t, so they aren’t hotels any more. They have changed into flats.”

  Sophie looked as if she was sorry for Ellen. Ellen could see why. The Promenade was filled with happy, laughing people. It was as if there was a golden glow over everything, more than sunlight. If she had to gi
ve it a name, Ellen would have called it happiness. They were walking along, talking to each other. Whole families were sitting on the steps outside the boarding houses. Here and there, someone was playing a mouth organ or a penny whistle and people gathered around them, singing. One man on a street corner had an accordion and huge crowds were listening to the music. The words came to the two girls and Ellen started to sing along.

  “It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go…” she laughed. It was good to be here. Then the bell clanged and Sophie jumped to her feet. “This is our stop!”

  They tumbled down the stairs and onto the pavement, waving a thank you to the conductor. Sophie headed straight for one of the boarding houses. The name ‘Richmond’ was painted over the door. It was number 49.

  “This is where Margaret lives.” Sophie pushed open the door and walked into the narrow hall. Ellen followed. Sophie put her head round the door of the front room and then drew it back quickly. Ellen got a glimpse of a whiskered man sitting in the bay window reading a newspaper.

  “He’ll be one of the visitors,” Sophie whispered as she hurried to the end of the hallway and pulled open the door under the stairs. Steep steps led downwards into the dark. “Margaret lives down here in the basement when all the rooms are full,” she explained to Ellen.

  “Hello! It’s me, Sophie!” she called down the stairs.

  An old lady with silvery hair and rosy cheeks popped her head round the door at the bottom of the stairs. “Come in, do!” she called.

  The girls clattered down the stairs and into a big kitchen with a wooden table right in the centre, where the lady had been rolling pastry. A little girl was standing on a chair in front of a big steel sink against the wall. She had a rubber apron tied around her, which was so long that it hung down in front of her over the chair she was standing on. She was holding a fish in both her hands.

  “Whatever are you doing with those fish?” asked Sophie.

  “Making them swim. See!” She plunged the fish into the water and stirred them round, so their tails seemed to move and they looked as if they were swimming.