Kingsholt

by Susan Holliday

  Dark Time’s sword gleamed in his pale hand. There were only a few paces between Sam and its sharp point. I’ve nothing to fight with, he thought, no sword, no shield, only a monk’s robe to protect me and a monk’s dog at my side. Yet I must send him back to the Hell from where he came.

  In his new, wise mind, he undid his jacket and lifted up Leela’s anchor cross. The dog loosened a sharp pebble from the ground and Sam picked it up and threw it. A soundless scream came out of Dark Time’s black open mouth. His horse reared in panic then turned and galloped back into the darkness of Devil’s Reach.

  Sam stood still, breathing hard, then followed the saluki as she raced ahead and stopped in front of the great wall the lay brothers had made to guard their treasure.

  Once again something so strong swept over Sam that he was forced to shut his eyes. It was like a wave of time dragging him back, pulling him down to the floor. After an unknowable length of time it receded, taking with it the sharpness of massacre, the stench of pestilence. He opened his eyes and looked down. He no longer wore the white floating robe, though wisps of the monk’s memory still clung to him. The dog was no longer the sleek, swift, shiny-eyed saluki. Instead the dumpy, black form of Judy was beside him, nuzzling his hand, looking up with her warm, friendly, commonplace eyes.

  And he was Sam Penfold again, from Cheriton Street, Balham, London. A steady attitude and a good memory, his report had said. He took the map out of his haversack and studied it again. On paper, the wall he sat against was nothing but a small dot and there was no indication of how to get through it. Sam put away the map and flashed his torch over the smooth stone. Finding nothing, he held the torch in his mouth and passed his hands slowly and carefully over every slab. His heart beat fast as he put his thumb against a pebble, encased in the lowest and largest slab of all; his last chance! He pushed, hearing it click against something. Slowly, the huge, hewn stone swivelled round.

  ‘Look at that, Judy.’

  With the dog at his heels, Sam crawled through the hole into the darkness beyond. In front of him was a small, simple chapel. He went inside through a rounded, yellow limestone arch and stood in front of a bare altar that was also cut out of the yellowish limestone. Wisps of the monk’s memory made everything familiar – the anchor cross above the altar, chiselled simply from the stone, the stations of the cross round the wall, also carved from stone, the bareness. Sam played the torchlight over the altar but it revealed no secret sign. He flashed the beam onto the anchor cross. Was that a pebble in its centre? He touched it with his forefinger and to his surprise it sprang open, revealing a wide gap at the back of the altar. Holding his breath, he pulled out the box the monk had once put there in a hurry because the Vikings had found the entrance to the mines and were almost upon him.

  The box was heavy; Sam heaved it onto the altar. It was made of oak and a piece of vellum had been stuck to the lid bearing the words: We must hide this great book but hope that one day…

  He knew what to do. In the silence he took out his ink and quill and finished the sentence in the same beautiful script. We must hide this great book but hope that one day it will be found.

  Now he, Sam Penfold of Cheriton Street, Balham, was one of the long line of scribes who had cared for the great volume inside the oak box. He couldn’t resist prising open the gold clasp.

  He was not disappointed. Inside was a magnificent book, beautifully bound in tooled leather. He carefully placed it on the altar beside the oak box and took the cotton gloves out of the haversack. Now he understood.

  The pages were made of vellum and covered with beautiful writing. He couldn’t understand the Old English but he recognised the words, Psalmus David, in the introduction to the second psalm. A glow of excitement went through him. That was the introduction Aidan had read to him all those days ago. Now he had no doubt that this book was King Alfred’s translation of the first fifty psalms. He stood for a long time turning the beautiful, illuminated pages, until he remembered he had to hurry. He closed the great book very carefully then put it back into the oak box. He secured the lid and put the box on the altar while he emptied all the stuff in the haversack into his jeans and leather jacket pockets. Then, with great care, he placed the box into the haversack and put it over his shoulders. He left the ink and the quill on the stone altar as a sort of offering, and took a last look round. Almost regretfully, he squeezed through the low slab, pressed the pebble and watched the stone swing back.

  Only a minute or two had passed when he heard the scream. ‘I’m coming after you, wherever you are.’

  It was Nimbus, and he was after him. Or was he looking for Chloe? Sam ran quickly down the tunnel with his heart in his mouth. He was no longer able to navigate and followed Judy into a narrow crevice in the right hand wall of the tunnel, thinking, hoping, there might be a quicker way out. They were moving up, higher and higher and Sam felt quite jubilant until he looked ahead and saw a huge boulder obstructing the tunnel.

  A sense of despair overwhelmed him and when, from somewhere behind him, he heard horse’s hooves thunder through the tunnel, he was sure Dark Time was coming for him. He sat down, panic stricken. Sweating with fear, he felt in his pockets for a tissue. Instinctively he took hold of the scraper and waved it in the air in the forlorn hope that it would rescue him. All this time, Judy was watching him with a blank expression in her eyes.

  Suddenly, a deafening noise filled the tunnel. Sam held his head in his hands and hunched up next to Judy. When he had the courage to look up, he saw the boulder had cracked into a V shape. It was a miracle! In his gratitude Sam kissed the scraper. What extraordinary magic powers it had! He put it carefully back into his pocket and hugged Judy who was still shivering with fear.

  Sam whistled to her as he led the way through the V shape. He found himself in a man-made tunnel, with wooden planks securing the roof and the sides. As he climbed the rough path, Judy followed, whimpering a little. Sam turned round to comfort and encourage her. With his photographic memory firing on all cylinders he repeated Aidan’s words in reverse. First there’s a cockly bed, then nodular chalk with little shell fragments, then limestone, hard and yellowish, then flint, then chalk.

  ‘I hope you understand,’ he said to Judy. He had the impression the dog nodded and he smiled.

  They were going up through millions of years and now the walls were packed with flints. At the end of the dark tunnel was a white light, high up, as if it hung in space. It was like a torch, bobbing and circling to convey signals. Judy scampered ahead, running fast when she heard Tyler’s voice filling the darkness.

  ‘Is that you, Sam?’

  ‘You can say that again!’

  Judy was already prancing ecstatically round Tyler as Sam clambered out of the tunnel. It seemed as if he had been in the dark forever.

  It took time to take in sunshine, grass, sky. The word, innocent, came into his head for that is how it seemed, innocent and open and free.

  ‘Blackburr Fort,’ said Tyler. ‘We’re high up here. I found the entrance ages ago, when I was playing gardening. I dug down and found this lid. It was hard to open, and I quickly put it back when I saw the dark tunnel. It was a bit harder to find this time because everything’s overgrown.’ He patted Judy on the head. ‘She’s clever, isn’t she? I think she’s the cleverest dog in the world!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam and Judy had come up right beside one of the trees that grew in the enclosure of the fort. Once cattle and people had lived here together but now it was a wild grassy stretch, shaded by a few trees, with a little pathway that ran high up along its surrounding bank.

  Sam took off his haversack and put it beside him as he lay on his back and looked up. How light the world was! While he was resting, Tyler and Judy went for a circular walk round the fort. To Tyler’s surprise he saw Aidan and Chloe coming towards him.

  Sam’s down there,’ shouted Tyler, pointing to his friend. Chloe ran down the slope and across the grass.

  ‘Hi!
’ she shouted. ‘You’re safe and sound, that’s all that matters.’

  Sam sat up and grabbed hold of his haversack. ‘Not all,’ he said and his eyes sparkled.

  ‘Do you mean you’ve —’

  Sam nodded. ‘I’ll tell you everything later,’ he said, as if talking about the book might put it in danger. Chloe looked at him with new respect. ‘A knight in shining armour!’

  They all walked back together. Halfway down the drive, at the bend where Kingsholt came in sight, a police car stopped and an officer rolled down the window. ‘Any idea where Nimbus is?’ He nodded at Chloe. ‘This young lady told us enough for us to want to question him.’

  ‘His cottage is over there, ‘said Aidan, pointing to the field at the top of the valley. ‘Whether he’s there I don’t know, but, yes, you must find him as soon as you can. He’s a dangerous one.’

  The officer nodded. ‘We’ll have a look round.’

  When the noise of the police car had faded from the valley, Aidan led the way back to Kingsholt.

  That evening, after supper, they all sat round the cleared table. Sam put the box ceremoniously onto a white cloth that Aidan had found. With a sense of triumph he put on Leela’s white gloves and brought out the book.

  They sat in silence round him, awed by the old writing and the illuminations that were all done by hand.

  ‘It is the psalms translated by King Alfred,’ said Aidan in a voice that betrayed his joy. ‘The script is an English variant of the Carolingian miniscule.’ Forgetting, in his excitement, that Sam was the only one who had any interest in the names of scripts he went on in a hushed voice, ‘I should think it was copied in the tenth century, a hundred years after King Alfred translated the psalms into his own language. Early English,’ he added and then he was silent as he put on Leela’s gloves and turned the pages for himself.

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll take it up to the British Library,’ said Aidan, ‘and see what they have to say.’

  ‘And we’ll go swimming,’ said Sam. ‘Won’t we, Chloe?’

  ‘I’m really tired,’ she said, ‘but it might be an idea to do something normal. I haven’t used my cozzie for ages.’

  That night Chloe and Sam slept peacefully at Kingsholt. At last the shadow of the past had moved away, like a cloud from the sky, and left their minds free and clear. They had no dreams, no nightmares, only a long refreshing sleep. Outside the summer stars shone clearly and the moon hung gold above the valley until it faded into the light of dawn.

  It was two days before Aidan came back from London. ‘The curator was amazed,’ he said to Sam and Chloe. ‘He told me the book is invaluable and they hope to raise enough money to buy it. Of course, we’ll share whatever we get but this means I can fulfil George’s dreams. How can I thank you all enough?’

  ‘And the police have found Nimbus,’ said Chloe. ‘It was on the local radio and Leela brought in this newspaper. Here it is:

  The police found a man who called himself Nimbus clambering up from a pit on the Kingsholt estate. They took him and his daughter in for questioning. His daughter has gone to live with her mother and Nimbus is in custody awaiting trial.’

  ‘What a relief for us all,’ said Aidan.

  Several days later, everyone was once again seated round the kitchen table but this time listening to Dorothy Penfold, who had rushed back when Aidan at last contacted her. She looked anxious and serious, an emotion that didn’t quite suit her laid-back appearance. ‘Jack and I have been talking,’ she said, a little quicker than usual. We’ve come up with some ideas and we’d like to put them to you before Sam goes.’ She smiled at him gratefully. ‘The long and the short of it is, we think we’ve made a mistake imagining we could live here. Especially when I consider,’ she faltered and bit her lip, ‘all that’s happened.’ She looked at Chloe. ‘You’re on the mend, darling, but I should have been around and I should have understood more. Anyway, Dad and I think we should go back to our old house and let Aidan develop this one. We will be part of it but it’s better if we don’t live here.’ She held out her hand to Chloe. ‘Then you can go to your old school and have fun again.’

  Chloe leaned forward and took her mother’s hand. ‘Do you mean it, Mum?’

  Mrs Penfold gave her a small smile. ‘Yes, I do. After all we haven’t sold the old house and Dad’ll still be able to help Aidan carry out his plans. So you can come here, but not live here. What do you think?’

  Chloe wandered over to the window. The valley was peaceful now, and she was enjoying it for the first time in many months. But she thought with longing of her old house, her old school, her old friends. She turned round slowly. ‘If we did go back, we’d have the best of both worlds. What do you think, Sam?’

  He grinned. ‘I’m all for having my cake and eating it.’

  Dorothy Penfold turned to Aidan. ‘And what about you, Aidan?’

  His grey eyes looked thoughtful and a little sad. ‘Of course, I’ll miss you all but —’ He looked at Chloe. ‘I’d like you to lead a normal life, with ordinary friends.’

  ‘That’s what we feel, darling,’ said her mother. She looked up at the cobwebs no one could reach. ‘It’s all been too much for me as well. I can see that now. I think that’s why I kept going away.’

  ‘I’ll come and cook for you,’ said Sam to Aidan, ‘and when the place is set up, I’ll be the chef.’ He felt as if he wanted to go on being a part of the valley. He wasn’t sure how it would work out but it seemed like the right direction.

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Dorothy, ‘and maybe your mother could come down for a visit.’

  ‘Mum’s a law unto herself,’ said Sam. ‘When I phoned her and hinted at what had happened, all she said was, I sounded different and was I any taller?’

  They all laughed and Sam went over to the Aga. ‘Chef’s special,’ he said, bringing out a huge, bubbling lasagne.

  The day before Sam went home, he went for a walk with Chloe and Tyler, right round the valley. They started out from Kingsholt and followed the footpaths that circled the estate, through the wild woods and the neglected fields. When they drew near to the pit they lapsed into silence. But they had nothing to fear for Aidan had already begun to fill the dark hole with the branches he had cut down. There was no stench now, no sense of horror. Light played through the trees where he had been working and a huge stone marked the place where the chapel would be. It was like an act of faith.

  The path led to a hidden field where young foxes were playing in the grass. Tyler insisted on watching for some time and as Sam persuaded him to move on, a stray deer crossed their path, eyeing them shyly. ‘Do you remember Bambi?’ said Chloe, as the animal bound away. ‘We saw it one summer when we were really small.’ She still felt fragile and unsteady but all the bad memories were already losing their power. They chatted and laughed as they walked and when they finally skirted the hill behind Kingsholt they stopped and looked down at the crumbling mansion.

  ‘It somehow looks better already,’ said Sam. ‘It must be seeing it from a long way off.’

  ‘It feels different,’ said Chloe, ‘as if someone good has woken up and done away with all the darkness.’ She sat down on the grass. ‘I’ve been feeling so strange,’ she said, half to herself, ‘but now I wonder if there was a purpose behind it all.’

  Sam sat beside her. ‘If it hadn’t happened, we’d never have found the book and you would never be going back to your old school and friends.’

  Tyler chewed a piece of grass. ‘I wish you were staying.’

  Sam punched him. ‘Don’t be daft. We’ll come back.’ He paused. ‘Things move on. I wonder if we’ll ever hear the singing again.’

  ‘That sort of thing never happens twice,’ said Chloe.

  ‘If Aidan builds the chapel, somebody will sing in it,’ said Tyler.

  ‘You would have the right answer,’ said Sam as they scrambled down to Kingsholt.

  ‘Look,’ said Tyler, half-way down the hill. ‘There’s the buzzard. Up there. It�
�ll soon be migrating.’

  Sam and Chloe shielded their eyes against the sunlight. They caught their last glimpse of the great bird as he rose from the trees, circled round and flew away.

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