The Haunting of Thores-Cross
Page 23
‘No, somebody else might find it. We’ll take it to the dam, throw it into the reservoir.’
I paused, then nodded. ‘Yes, that’s a better idea.’
*
The next morning, after breakfast, we put Louise into her baby carrier and strapped her into the backseat of the Discovery. I had the inkpot in my pocket. We drove across the dam to the car park and took Louise out, still strapped in her carrier, and walked down to the dam.
Halfway across, we stopped and Dave put Louise down on to the pavement. We leaned over the parapet of the dam and stared at the reservoir. It looked calm and beautiful, the wind rippled the surface and a flock of Canada Geese came in to land. I gave the inkpot to Dave – he had a stronger throwing arm.
‘No, you have to do it, Em.’
I looked at him for a moment, then nodded. He was right. Jennet had come into our lives because of me, because I had found this inkpot twenty six years ago. I was the only one who could break the connection.
I took the inkpot back from him and looked at it one last time. Then I stepped back, leaned back and flung it as far as I could.
There was a small splash, and a few ripples spread across the water, then disappeared.
‘Is that it? Do you think she’s gone?’ I asked Dave.
‘Hope so.’
‘It seems such an anti-climax.’
Dave smiled. ‘What did you expect? Thunderbolts from the sky?’
‘No, of course not, just . . . something. Something to tell us she’s gone.’
Dave put his arm around me and stood in silence, watching the still waters of Thruscross. ‘I think in this case, nothing is much better than something.’
I nodded and we turned to go home.
*
That evening, Dave came upstairs with me to put Louise to bed. I leaned down to put her in her cot, then paused.
‘What is it?’ Dave asked.
‘Shh, I thought I heard something.’ I stayed still and listened.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’ I smiled and glanced up at my husband. ‘I can’t hear anything.’
THE END
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Author’s Note
Thruscross Reservoir does exist, and covers the drowned village of West End – one of a number of small hamlets that made up the parish of Thruscross. The sailing club also existed and I spent a very happy childhood there – even finding an old inkpot built into a tumbledown dry stone wall by the “haunted house”. I was fascinated by it being in the wall, and knew at the time that one day I would write a story about how it came to be there – although I didn’t expect it to take thirty years.
I have worked hard to be as accurate as possible with the landscape, village and way of life, and most of the farms and buildings I mention do (or did) exist – although I do admit to a little poetic licence on occasion. The residents, however, are wholly fictitious and in no way represent the real life inhabitants of the township of Thruscross and its hamlets – past or present.
My apologies to The Stone House Inn. I have enjoyed many delicious meals there over the years – and have always been offered a warm welcome along with a full and varied menu.
The lyrics, ‘Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow . . .’ are taken from the hymn: Awake, My Soul, And With The Sun by Thomas Ken.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to everyone who has helped me with their time, information and editorial skills; in particular Peter Mutanda, Lesley Taylor, Chris White, Christina Robinson, Glen Beale, Claire C Riley, my fellow authonomites and the writing group, as well as my friends and family for your constant and highly valued support and encouragement.
A massive thank you also to Cecelia Morgan, whose eye and quite simply amazing talent have created such a fantastic cover. I am so proud to be working with her, and so lucky that Thores-Cross carries her work.
Books by Karen Perkins include:
Yorkshire Ghost Stories
Knight of Betrayal
The Haunting of Thores-Cross
Cursed (short story)
To find out more about the full range of books in the Yorkshire Ghost Series, including upcoming titles, please visit:
www.karenperkinsauthor.com/yorkshire-ghosts
Valkyrie Series
Look Sharpe!
Ill Wind
Dead Reckoning
The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet (Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning)
Where Away – a Valkyrie short story (see below)
To find out more about the full range of books in the Valkyrie Series, including upcoming titles, please visit:
www.karenperkinsauthor.com/valkyrie
Where Away is being offered FREE for readers of the Valkyrie Series and will not be released separately—if you would like to read it, please order your copy from Karen’s website: www.karenperkinsauthor.com/valkyrie
About the Author – Karen Perkins
Karen Perkins is the international award-winning and bestselling author of six fiction titles in the Valkyrie Series of Caribbean pirate adventures and the Yorkshire Ghost Stories. All of her fiction has appeared at the top of bestseller lists on both sides of the Atlantic with over 200,000 downloads so far.
Her first Yorkshire Ghosts novel – The Haunting of Thores-Cross – is a silver medal winner for European Fiction in the 2015 Independent Publisher Book Awards, and Dead Reckoning: A Caribbean Pirate Adventure reached the top 50 in the UK Kindle chart as part of The Hot Box set that also included work by international bestselling thriller authors David Leadbeater, John Paul Davis and Steven Bannister.
See more about Karen Perkins, including contact details, on her website:
www.karenperkinsauthor.com
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Knight of Betrayal
A Yorkshire Ghost Story
1170, Canterbury Cathedral.
Four knights break sanctuary to brutally murder Archbishop Thomas Becket for their king, Henry II.
Running from their crime, the four knights - Hugh de Morville, William de Tracy, Reginald FitzUrse and Richard le Bret - flee north to Knaresborough Castle where Morville is overlord. Initially celebrating ridding their king of the pest that Becket had become, they find themselves increasingly isolated as the Church and public opinion turn against them.
2015, Knaresborough, North Yorkshire.
August is FEVA time - a celebration and festival of the arts. The local amateur dramatic group has been accepted to perform a play of their own creation: Knight of Betrayal, based on the events leading up to Becket's murder.
Taking the honour very seriously, they work very hard to get into character - but are they channelling more than just the characters of the knights th
ey are portraying?
As the group of friends begins to disintegrate, concern becomes certainty - this is one opening night that will never be forgotten as life in the small Yorkshire market town of Knaresborough tumbles into horror.
Read on for an excerpt from Knight of Betrayal by Karen Perkins:
Chapter 1
Saltwood Castle
29th December 1170
‘This is our chance. You heard the King’s words,’ Sir Reginald FitzUrse said. ‘Becket has shamed him.’
‘He called us all drones and traitors for allowing Becket to get away with it,’ Sir William de Tracy said.
‘Yes!’ shouted FitzUrse, and slammed his fist against the table to emphasise the word. The four men sitting with him flinched at his exuberance. Sir Reginald FitzUrse, or The Bear as he liked to be called, resembled the ursine creatures he was named for in more ways than one. Large, hairy, loud and strong with a temper to beware of, his friends and vassals were afraid of him, although were eager to please him – even the mature yet impressionable Sir William de Tracy. Sir Hugh de Morville exchanged an exasperated glance with Sir Ranulf de Broc – the overlord of Saltwood Castle and the knights’ host.
‘No one has avenged me,’ FitzUrse quoted their king, Henry Plantagenet of England, leaning forward now and staring at each man in turn. ‘No one has avenged me,’ he repeated.
‘A clear plea,’ Broc, FitzUrse’s master in the King’s household, agreed. ‘King Henry raised Thomas Becket from a low-born clerk to Archbishop of Canterbury, for God’s sake, and look how he has repaid him.’
Tracy nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Yes! He excommunicated l’Évêque, Foliot and Salisbury, and for no good reason.’
Broc glanced at him in annoyance. ‘As I was saying, two bishops and the Archbishop of York excommunicated and damned for eternity for crowning the Young King.’
‘Well, his father, King Henry, still lives.’ Morville tried to calm the rising tempers as Broc signalled to his steward to refill the jugs of fine Rhenish wine. ‘It may be customary for a king to crown his successor before his own death in Normandy, but it is rare in England. Only King Stephen did it, and that was just to spite the Empress Matilda.’
‘It is King Henry’s prerogative!’ FitzUrse slammed the table again, and Sir Richard le Brett – still a boy – steadied the now full flagon of Rhenish, then proceeded to empty it into goblets. Morville sighed as he watched Tracy down half in a single gulp.
‘Yes,’ Tracy slurred. ‘It’s nothing to do with Becket. It would not surprise me if Becket meant to depose the Young King and try for the crown himself.’
‘Always was an ambitious bastard,’ Brett agreed, then picked up a bone and noisily sucked the marrow from it.
‘Are you sure we arrived on England’s shores before Mandeville and Humez?’
‘Yes, I have had my men patrolling the coasts to slow them down. They failed me when they allowed Becket to beach from France. They will not fail me again.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ FitzUrse asked, pointing a half-eaten pheasant leg at his host.
Broc laughed. ‘Oh, I can be sure. One captain lost his head – the rest all want to keep theirs.’
Morville drained his wine, once again regretting FitzUrse’s choice of ally. The other men laughed, and Morville realised they were well into their cups. He poured more wine and drank again – in their cups may well be the only way they’d survive this day.
‘So we shall beat them to Becket?’ Tracy asked.
‘We have to,’ Broc said. ‘If they arrest Becket, they shall receive all the accolades – the two of them already hold more castles and titles than the five of us put together. If we can take Becket to the King, he will surely be indebted to us and who knows what his favour may bring?’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ FitzUrse roared, pushing himself to his feet. His fellow knights followed suit, throwing down the remains of the meat they’d been gnawing on and draining their goblets.
The men-at-arms seated in the hall below shoved as much meat in their mouths as possible before following their masters to the stables. Half an hour later the company of over a hundred armed men cantered through the imposing towers of the castle’s gate and took the road to Canterbury.
*
While Broc garrisoned his men in the town, FitzUrse, Morville, Tracy and Brett – along with a small retinue of their most trusted vassals – clattered through the gatehouse to the Archbishop’s Palace and dismounted in the courtyard.
Morville glanced at his companions, still concerned at the glazed eyes which the three-hour ride had done nothing to clear.
FitzUrse produced another wineskin which he passed to Tracy after taking a large slug himself. ‘Are you ready for this?’
‘We need to disarm,’ Morville said before the other knights – still focused on the wine – could reply.
‘Disarm? God’s blood, Hugh, we are here on the King’s business.’
‘This is a house of God – the Archbishop will have mere monks, priests and clerks about him. No men-at-arms and no weapons. We shall not need arms to arrest him.’
‘He is correct,’ said Brett, ‘we can kill him with our bare hands if necessary.’
‘Richard!’ Morville was horrified. ‘We are not here to kill him, merely to arrest him and take him to King Henry to deal with as he sees fit.’
‘If necessary, the boy said. If necessary,’ FitzUrse jumped to his sycophant’s defence.
‘Why should it be necessary?’ Morville asked.
‘Thomas Becket stands against not only the Young King, but King Henry himself. He has just returned from exile. Look what he has done already, who knows what he would do when called to account? We must be ready for anything.’
‘But we leave swords and mail here,’ Morville insisted. Despite FitzUrse’s bluster, as Baron of Burgh-on-the-Sands, Sir Hugh de Morville held the highest status amongst the four men.
FitzUrse hesitated, then succumbed to him. ‘Very well, if it shall make you happy. Arms and mail stay here.’
Mauclerk, Morville’s clerk, helped the knights out of their heavy hauberks and mail hoods and piled the armour, along with their long blades, under a nearby mulberry tree. ‘They will be safe here with me,’ he said.
FitzUrse glanced round the knights. William de Tracy in particular looked nervous and vulnerable without his arms or armour. Despite his thirty seven years, he appeared younger with a boyish clean-shaven face, copper curls and slim build. At this moment, if one ignored the lines of worry around his eyes, he appeared a child.
FitzUrse passed him the wine. ‘Who are we?’ he called.
‘The King’s men,’ the other three chorused.
‘Who are we?’ FitzUrse shouted louder.
‘The King’s men!’
‘Who are we?’ Louder still.
‘The King’s men!’
‘Á Henry Plantagenet!’ FitzUrse roared, and the others joined in, the wineskin forgotten and trampled on the cobblestones.
FitzUrse crossed to the door of the great hall and banged his clenched paw upon it. ‘In the name of the King, open up!’ Then again, and again, the other knights joining in the cry and the thumps on the door – even Morville was carried away now with the purpose of their mission.
‘Thomas Becket, in the name of King Henry, permit entry or we shall break down this door!’ Tracy yelled, then stumbled back at the sound of bolts being drawn.
Knight of Betrayal is now available from most online retailers
Glossary of Yorkshire Terms used in Thores-Cross
Addled – Confused, muddled
Ain’t – Isn’t, am not, hasn’t, haven’t
Anyroad – Anyway
Awd Carlin – Sharp old woman
Ay up – Greeting
Barguest – Evil spirit in form of an animal
Besom – A broom made from heather or twigs tied round a stick
Canny – A
stute
Frit – Frightened
Gimmer – Young female sheep
Hersen – Herself
Hissen – Himself
Ken – Know
Mesen – Myself
Mithering – Fussing, pestering
Nithered – Cold/frozen
Nowt – Nothing
Owt – Anything
Poddy Lamb – Orphaned lamb
Spain – Separate lambs and ewes
Stook – Sheaves of grain stood up in field
Summat – Something
Thee – You
Theesen – Yourself
Thine – Yours
Thy – Your
Tup – Breeding male sheep/ram
Watter – Water
Wether – Castrated lamb
Whiskybae – Whisky
Witchpost – Carved wooden post used as protection against witchcraft.
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by
LionheART Publishing House
Copyright © Karen Perkins 2013
This edition published 2016
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 9781301778300
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention
No reproduction without permission
All rights reserved.
The right of Karen Perkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.