The House Called Hadlows

by Victoria Clayton

  At last she felt herself being put roughly down and the sack was taken off her head. She looked around. She was sitting on the floor of a large dark room, with walls of grey stone and over her stood Ares. He bent down and untied the cloth over her mouth. Then he pulled her to her feet. Her hands he left bound together. She must have looked dishevelled and miserable for he laughed heartily and said in a sneering voice,

  ‘This will pay you out for your insolence, young lady. I have had my revenge on you and gained Hephaestus’s good favour for my evidence cleared him of the crime of which you accused him. The gods will believe that you escaped from Olympus, fearing punishment for your false accusation of Hephaestus. Now he is in my debt. When his lady smiles on me, Hephaestus must smile too. What strategy! I should have been a politician.’

  ‘You would have been as inept a politician as you are a warrior,’ said Hephaestus as he limped through the door. ‘You have served my purpose in bringing the mortal here. Now get you gone. And never set foot in my castle again. I have made an enchantment to prevent you or any Olympian from entering my home. One godly foot upon the staircase to this castle and it shall be shaken off into the void below.’

  ‘Fine treachery,’ snarled Ares. ‘Is this how you repay a friend? What if I tell Zeus that you were not with me in Thrace after all?’

  ‘Confess that you lied in a trial of the gods? Not even you would be fool enough to do such a thing. You know the penalty for such a crime.’

  Ares grew pale. ‘Betrayer!’ he stuttered. ‘False friend!’

  ‘You were never a friend to me,’ cried Hephaestus. ‘I know your purpose in this seeming act of friendship. Now begone before the enchantment begins to work and you are flung into the depths.’

  He picked up his hammer and swung it several times round his head. Ares looked in vain for his bow and remembered that he had left it beside the pool when he captured Melissa. He shook his fist and slammed the door behind him as the hammer crashed against the wall where he had just been standing.

  ‘That’s one trouble-maker dealt with,’ said Hephaestus gloomily as he retrieved his hammer. ‘Now for you, mortal. A plague on this whole affair!’

  ‘Why did you take Hermes’s wings?’ asked Melissa.

  ‘It was a fit of rage. That witch Hera put evil thoughts into my head concerning Hermes and Aphrodite. She has always disliked me because of my lameness. It was but a moment’s work to enrage me to folly. If I had thought, I would have known that Hermes would not betray me.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘It is done now and there can be no going back. I shall burn the alipean wings and somehow, before nightfall, I must get rid of you.’

  ‘I think it’s all too silly for words,’ said Melissa, hiding her uneasiness. ‘Why don’t you just give the wings back to Hermes and say that you’re sorry?’

  ‘I, a god, ask pardon? No, that can never be. I must see it through to the end. A plague on women!’

  ‘Oh nonsense,’ said Melissa, impatiently. ‘I didn’t think that gods could behave so badly!’

  ‘Hold your tongue, mortal,’ said Hephaestus. ‘You have caused me trouble enough. I must go and think of a way to stop your talk for ever.’

  He left the room, banging the door behind him.

  Melissa looked round at her prison. The only light came from a few arrow slits in the walls, which were hung with shields, armour, and weapons of every description. An anvil stood in one corner with a pair of bellows beside it. In another stood a great wooden chest.

  Melissa walked over to the anvil and sat down on it. She couldn’t think what to do in her present circumstances. Her wrists were terribly painful; the cord felt like a knife. Her arms ached from being kept in one position for so long and in addition her nose had a most irritating tickle which she was unable to alleviate. It was altogether very unpleasant.

  ‘Oh bother, bother, bother!’ she said aloud as the tickling grew worse.

  ‘Miaow,’ came the reply.

  Melissa turned to see Mantari sitting on the sill of one of the arrow slits.

  ‘Mantari! Oh thank goodness!’ Her spirits lifted.

  Mantari took a great leap and landed on the anvil.

  ‘I can’t stroke you,’ said Melissa as she felt his wet nose on her wrists. Then she felt his sharp teeth cold on her skin and with a snap the cord gave way and she was free.

  Even then she couldn’t stroke him for her hands were quite numb and terribly painful as the blood slowly returned to them.

  Mantari, however, seemed in too much of a hurry to mind for he ran to the door and miaowed impatiently.

  ‘Wait a minute, Mantari,’ said Melissa as she rubbed her hands. ‘I must try to find Hermes’ wings. Hephaestus is going to burn them.’

  She looked round the room and her glance fell on the large chest. She ran over and opened the lid. A bright gold light shone out from the chest which came from heaps of bracelets, crowns, daggers, rings and necklaces lying within. There were also several fine caskets thrust untidily on top of the heap of gold. She opened one with fumbling fingers. A cloud of butterflies of every colour flew out of the casket and fluttered against the ceiling, leaving trails of iridescent dust. She opened another and a drift of snowflakes rose into the air and began to swirl about the room, making it icily cold. Hastily she opened another casket and a pair of white wings flew into her face. She dropped the casket in surprise and it clanged against the stone floor.

  ‘Oh help, Mantari!’ she cried as she ran in pursuit of the wings which darted away from her outstretched hands. Mantari crouched, waved his tail and sprang. He caught one of the wings in his teeth and then ran back to the door. Melissa rushed after the other wing and chased it round the room until she was ready to scream with vexation. Then she saw the wing fluttering towards the window and realized that once it was through there would be no further chance of catching it. She sprang after it, seized the bellows and opened them wide. With a swishing sound the wing was drawn down through the spout of the bellows into the leather pouch.

  Then she ran through the door after Mantari, under a low archway and up some steps to the front door. She stopped on the threshold with a gasp. Below her and above and on either side was the blue void. Before her a narrow staircase stretched in a great arc across the sky. At the other end a haze of silver flashed and shone. Mantari began to run up the staircase, the wing between his teeth. There came an angry shout from behind them and Melissa hesitated no longer. She held the bellows firmly beneath one arm, fixed her eyes on the silver haze and followed Mantari.

  ‘If only this staircase had banisters, I wouldn’t mind nearly so much,’ thought Melissa to herself as she jumped from step to step, refusing to allow herself to think of the awful drop on either side. Suddenly the staircase began to shake alarmingly and she knew that there was someone, much heavier than she, behind her. For a moment she almost lost her balance and her mouth went dry as she saw the infinite space below. She hugged the bellows tightly and leaped for the next stair, managed to regain her balance and went running on, her knees literally trembling with the effort.

  She saw Mantari, some way ahead, jump from the top of the staircase into the silver forest. Pallas Athene came running towards him and took the wing from his mouth. Then she saw Melissa and started down towards her. Melissa remembered the enchantment that Hephaestus had put on the staircase and shouted at the top of her voice.

  ‘Wait! Don’t touch it!’

  But already Pallas Athene’s foot was on the first stair. Melissa summoned up her last strength and flung the bellows into the arms of the goddess. Then the staircase reared up like a serpent and Melissa was thrown into the air. She felt herself falling faster and faster through the sky and the spinning circle of silver shrank to a pin-point. She closed her eyes. There was a rushing sound and soft feathers brushed against her cheek. Then she heard the rhythm of great, slow, beating wings and all fear left her.

  Melissa opened her eyes. It was morning. The sun lit the trees beneath which she was lying
and touched the lawn with gold. The grass was strewn with leaves and branches from yesterday’s storm. Hadlows stood before her, despite the sunlight, still veiled with the slight mist which was an integral part of its mystery.

  One white feather still clung to the hem of her dress and beside it was a small round hole in the fabric. She looked at it, recalling the events of the night and wondered if she had achieved anything at all. Then she remembered Sebastian and ran quickly into the house and up the stairs to his room.

  Fandeagle smiled at her as she came in.

  ‘How is he?’ she asked.

  ‘He was restless during the night and talked a great deal. I could understand very little of it. I think he was fighting the Evil One in his mind. But he seems to have won.’

  Melissa put her hand on Sebastian’s forehead. It was much cooler.

  ‘And you have also been occupied this night,’ said Fandeagle. ‘And have greatly furthered our cause, for which many thanks. You have won the allegiance of a mighty power and we all, not least yourself, shall feel the benefit.’

  ‘You know what happened, then?’ said Melissa in surprise. ‘I didn’t manage to find Hermes, you know.’

  ‘I know. But Pallas Athene took the alipean wings to the valley of Arcadia and has told Hermes of your part in their rescue.’

  ‘Oh good,’ said Melissa. ‘I was so afraid that it might all have been in vain. Tell me, how did you know?’

  ‘It was a small bird that told me,’ said Fandeagle and smiled again his strange smile. ‘But we cannot afford to delay any longer. The Evil One knows of our purpose and you and Sebastian are in great danger.’

  Just then the door opened and Uncle Bertram came in. He looked hard at Sebastian and then questioningly at Fandeagle. Fandeagle nodded and Uncle Bertram smiled, as if a great weight had been taken off him.

  ‘Now, young lady,’ he said turning to Melissa. ‘It seems, thank heaven, that your brother has passed the crisis and now I must ask you a few questions. It has not escaped my notice that since your arrival in this house some strange forces have been at work. I judged it best not to interfere, relying on your good sense not to get involved in anything too dangerous or difficult to handle. But what happened to Sebastian last night has made me very anxious. I don’t ask you to tell me the nature of the business. But I must ask you — are you and Sebastian in danger? And I warn you that if the answer is “yes”, I shall ask you to give me your word that you will end your involvement in this affair. I’m an old busybody, I know, but I can’t endure the thought of either of you getting hurt again.’

  Melissa was in a quandary. What should she say? She couldn’t tell a lie, but if she admitted the truth and gave her word, it would be the end of all they had struggled so hard for. And Selina, Falcon and Fandeagle, as well as many others, would be in despair.

  She looked at Fandeagle, beseechingly.

  Fandeagle stood up. The scales fell from his face and he grew tall and silver and beautiful. The room grew dark except for a strong radiance which emanated from Fandeagle’s body. He began to speak in the tongue of the Overworld.

  Then there was a blinding flash and suddenly there were five people in the room, where previously there had only been four. Uncle Bertram staggered as if under the weight of a heavy blow, as well he might for he had received a great many shocks, all coming fast upon one another, and the appearance of the new arrival was enough to astound anyone.

  He was so tall that he had to stoop to avoid touching the ceiling. On his head was a broad-brimmed helmet of shining bronze. His skin was almost metallic, a smooth glistening gold. He wore a short leather jerkin and on his feet were leather thonged sandals. From each heel grew a small white wing which made strong draughts across the floor with their flutterings. In his hand he carried a staff around which were entwined two serpents, hissing and spitting like fire. His face was that of a young man, in the spring of life but his eyes were older than the world itself, and all who stood in his presence bent their heads in obeyance to such wisdom and omnipotence as they saw there.

  Fandeagle knelt at the stranger’s feet.

  ‘O Hermes, great god of Olympus. I hope I did well to call you. I could think of no other way to save our quest.’

  ‘Rise, Fandeagle, Prince of the Elderfolk,’ said Hermes. He spoke quietly but his voice was full of power and authority. ‘You did well to call me. The time has come for me to take my part in this.’

  He turned to Melissa, who hastily recollected herself and dropped him a curtsey.

  ‘Earth-maiden, I owe you a great debt and you may be assured that I shall do all in my power to help you. I have watched the trials of you and your brother and you have been steadfast and courageous. Now we must lose no time in finding the fourth part of the Elixir, Saturn’s Stone. Willingly shall I give back the third part, the Air of the Elixir, which was entrusted to me. Zabdureth, sometimes called the Evil One, is summoning all his power to fight a battle which will decide the fate of all. If we make haste, we may be in time to prevent a terrible disaster.’

  Then he turned to Uncle Bertram.

  ‘Sir Bertram: I respect you as a wise and honourable man. And I cannot deny that the earth-maiden and her brother are in danger. But Zabdureth knows of their part in this affair and until he has been overthrown, they will be always in peril. I ask you to place your trust in me and let them go on with the quest.’

  Uncle Bertram stood for a moment in silence, obviously trying to adjust himself to the situation. Then he spoke, ‘Most noble Hermes, I willingly place my trust in you and bow to your superior wisdom. Many times in my days of scholarship, I wrote of your glorious deeds but I never thought that we should meet. I am deeply honoured by your presence in this house.’

  Hermes smiled. ‘Well-spoken, Sir Bertram! Your composure in such strange circumstances is admirable. And I think I may be able to repay you for your kind words and your trust for I know how much it costs you to give it. I shall give you knowledge which no mortal has ever dreamed of possessing: the story of Olympus as it is told by the gods. The world of scholarship will be shaken to its foundation and your work shall be acclaimed in every land. Prosperity will return once more to your family. This is a great and historic house and by the grace of the gods, it shall not fall. While Fandeagle returns to the Overworld to gather his people for the battle, we shall talk awhile of things past and present, of myth and legend, truth and fantasy. Your book will mark the end of an era of confusion and misunderstanding of the glory that was Greece.’

  For a moment Uncle Bertram was too deeply moved to reply. Then he began to speak in a language which Melissa did not know and Hermes replied in the same tongue.

  ‘What are they saying?’ whispered Melissa to Fandeagle.

  ‘They are speaking in ancient Greek. It is not a language I understand well. We must leave them to their discussion. This is a happy day for Hadlows but there are urgent affairs to attend to. We must go to the Overworld.’

  ‘What about Sebastian? Is he going to stay here? Who will find the stone?’

  Fandeagle pointed to the bed. ‘He has already gone.’

  And Melissa saw that the bed, on which her brother had lain, was empty.

  SEBASTIAN awoke from a dream which he could not remember, but which left him exhausted and burning with fever. His vision was hazy and dim: he heard voices around him, but they seemed the whispers of his nightmare. Before him, on the wall of his room, hung the painting of the ship, tossing on the cool ocean. The waves were green and gleaming and he thought he could hear the murmur of breakers as they dashed themselves against the ship, and the haunting cry of a gull. He dragged himself from his bed and stumbled over to the painting. He leaned his burning head on the cold canvas. A smell of brine filled his nostrils and the salt-water trickled in icy rivulets down his face. He could hear the creaking of the masts and suddenly the deck began to lurch beneath his feet.

  ‘Look behind you, lad!’ came a voice in his ear, and Sebastian stepped quickly asid
e, just in time to avoid a rope which slithered at a tremendous speed across the deck and over the side of the ship.

  ‘You’ll not be long in His Majesty’s Navy if you don’t learn to look after yourself. I’ve seen many a grown man carried overboard by the anchor cable before now,’ said the voice again.

  Sebastian turned to look at the one who had spoken. A short, thickset man, his face dark and weatherbeaten, stood beside him, turning a drum on which was wound a length of rope. He wore baggy trousers of a coarse blue material and a short blue jacket. His hair was long and knotted into a pigtail.

  Around the ship, in every direction lay the restless sea. Above them the sails on the three great masts were swelled with wind.

  Sebastian barely had time to take in the sudden transition from Hadlows to the deck of a square-rigged frigate, when the sailor spoke again.

  ‘Look alive, Mr Jones, sir. We must bring the cargo up ready to go ashore. The captain wants to leave on the next high tide from London, for we must make the coast of Spain by Monday.’

  ‘What is the cargo?’ asked Sebastian, as he followed the sailor, scrambling over ropes, piles of canvas and wooden spars to the hatchway.

  The sailor’s reply was flung back with the wind. ‘Bless my soul, Mr Jones. You must have been napping when the captain gave us his orders this morning. It’s the King’s jewels, present from the governor of the Cape. And a precious cargo it is too, and no mistake. There’ll be some heads to roll if it’s not delivered safe and sound to the Tower, or my name’s not Jim Greville.’

  Sebastian wondered which king he was referring to. It was Queen Victoria who ruled England and the Empire. Unless —? He looked down at his clothes. He was wearing blue trousers and jacket, but the cloth was of finer quality than the sailor’s and he wore a white linen shirt instead of the sailor’s striped pullover. But this was not what sailors wore nowadays. And come to think of it, the ship was more like a museum than a modern vessel. So that was it. He had gone back in time. He could hardly restrain himself from breaking into a grin. This was something to remember all right. He wondered what position he held on the ship. The sailor had addressed him as ‘sir’ although he was obviously much older than Sebastian. Then he had it. He was a midshipman, the youngest officer in the Navy.