Goldhill's Treasure

by Jilly Bowling

  All her friends were worried about her but a steely determination had descended and she had made up her mind that Calum would not have Goldhill. He’d broken her heart and she felt as if she would never trust anyone ever again. Luckily her father had changed his mind about Calum being his perfect son in law but as far as Sophie was concerned the damage had been done. Although she still loved them, as her parents, she realised that she’d never liked her father very much, and her mother was an ineffectual ghost, saying little more than ‘yes dear’ for as long as Sophie could remember. She felt totally and utterly alone and told herself that at least she’d never again feel the pain she was feeling now.

  Having finished packing and labeling the pots she went up to the cottage to see how things were going. The kitchen fitters were in and the decorators were progressing well. It was beginning to look like a home already. Mick saw her and came into the family room to join her “Hello love, how ya doing?”

  “Yes good thanks, this is really coming together.”

  “All’s good, the electric’s are working, three of the bedrooms and bathrooms are decorated. The water’s on, well apart from when they turn it off to plumb in the kitchen, and it won’t be long before we are finished. How’s the bloke doing I got in to help clear the garden?”

  “He’s an angel” Sophie enthused “he’s worked miracles. All the brambles and damson suckers have gone and he’s actually started laying out some terraces. He’s only supposed to do twelve hours a week but he works triple that and won’t take any more money.”

  “That’s good. I knew you’d be alright with Stuart. When he retired he was at a loose end and he’s always loved gardening, had an allotment too for as long as I can remember. He’ll have this place looking like Kew gardens before you can say ‘Jack Robinson’.”

  Sophie laughed “Yes he’s got grandiose plans for terraces and steps and even a summer house at the top of the hill where the daffodils grow. Says it’ll be somewhere I can sit on a spring evening with a G and T.”

  “Next thing you know you’ll be opening the place to the public.”

  “No, only the studio, the rest will be strictly private. I’ve had enough of people poking around, what with the bloody paparazzi!”

  “Mmm, they have been a pain. Never mind it’ll settle down eventually, mind they do say no publicity is bad.”

  “Well, it has brought the curious into the studio. A lot of people who’d never give a pottery a second glance. I’ve managed to shame quite a few into buying things, i think they feel sorry for me when they see what a mess I look.”

  “You couldn’t look a mess if you tried. No makeup, tatty clothes and you’re still worth a second glance.”

  “Thanks Mick” Sophie giggled “I’ll take that as a compliment, shall I?”

  “You can laugh, but honest, you’re a beautiful young woman. If that Carla Blaine didn’t wear all that crap on her face, nobody would notice her, and I bet her body’s not half as good as yours.”

  “Mick stop it, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Oh go on with you, now was there something you wanted?”

  “No, I was just nosing. I can’t wait to get it furnished. Not that I can afford to go mad, it’ll be a bit minimalistic for a while.”

  “Once you move your furniture and stuff out of storage, you’ll be surprised how it’ll look.”

  “I’ve only got furniture for one bedroom and my three piece suite and dining table are a bit small for these rooms, but I intend to hit the junk shops, if I ever get the time and do some upcycling.”

  “With your arty farty mind you’ll have looking a treat. Well must get on, watch yourself as you wander through, there’s paint and stuff everywhere.”

  Chapter 9

  “Oh my god, I don’t bloody believe it!” Sophie stared at the letter from her solicitor in disbelief.

  Calum’s solicitor had been in touch with hers, declaring that at the moment he had very little income, and could not say how much he might earn in the future, it all depended on how the film did at the box office, as he had agreed to take a percentage of what it made. Because Sophie had always been the main breadwinner, and because her business was doing well, she could expect nothing from him in the divorce settlement. In fact he was asking for the money back that he had contributed to the purchase of Goldhill.

  Sophie’s solicitor told her that the only thing she could do was cross petition him naming his adultery as the cause of the divorce, or buy him out.

  Exasperated and distressed she sat staring blindly into space, at the breakfast bar in her new kitchen. The building work was finished and she had managed to move into the cottage just before the glorious summer weather had slipped into the chilly damp of October.

  She’d managed to furnish her bedroom and the family room from the furniture that had been in storage, and had got curtains up in all the rooms except the glass fronted lounge. Now the pleasure in her achievement had been ruined by the letter in front of her.

  Given time she knew she’d manage to buy Calum out, she’d estimated that she only needed about forty thousand pounds, but he was pushing for a fast divorce and settlement. Then she turned to the second page of the letter where the solicitor told her that he’d had the cottage valued now and it was worth three hundred and fifty thousand pounds. He would kindly settle for one hundred and fifty thousand as she had been paying off the loan.

  Deep despair settled over her and finally after all these months of being strong, she burst into wracking sobs. He’d waited until she’d worked her socks off doing up the cottage and paying large chunks off the loan, not spending a penny on herself, only to demand half of the value she had given it. How could someone who’d said he’d loved her do this to her?

  All those years she’d stood by him, believing in him and trying to be the perfect wife; even when she was exhausted, from working three jobs, she’d never said no when he’d wanted sex, foolishly believing that if he was satisfied at home he wouldn’t need to stray. How stupid she’d been!

  The rest of the day went by in a blur as she got out her business books for the last three years, and tried to work out whether she’d get a loan. By the evening she had a rotten headache and had cried herself out. It was useless, she’d never raise the money at the moment. She either had to agree to sell the cottage or cross petition Calum for adultery. What a choice.

  Falling into bed, hoping that the next day might present a conclusion she tossed and turned into the small hours. Getting up to get a glass of water and some paracetamol she was in the kitchen when she heard shouting and the clash of metal. Once again it appeared to be coming out of the hill.

  Pulling a coat over her pyjamas and picking up a torch, she went out of the kitchen door and followed the sounds. It seemed to be echoing out of the tunnel in the hill, so she followed, switching on the torch, As she moved further along the tunnel the noises stopped and she hesitated, telling herself to go back to bed, it had been a dream, but her stubbornness drove her on. To her surprise when she reached the part of the tunnel where she had thought the blockage was the path was clear. Carefully she stepped forward thinking she must have been mistaken, until suddenly her hand passed through what appeared to be a wall of cobwebs, and then she was falling, spinning faster and faster, out of control until she blacked out.

  ***

  Eirik rode away from his jarl’s hall in Weorgoranceastre in a rage. On his last raid he had accumulated much wealth, a third of which he had given to Ubbe in the hope that he’d be allowed to return to Jorvik for a while. An uneasy peace reigned between Saxon and Dane and it seemed to him to be the ideal opportunity to return to his wife’s farm and initiate the improvements he had planned, not least a new hall suitable to his wealth and position as one of the leading warriors in the jarls’ army.

  Instead Ubbe had sent him out on patrol again; this time h
e had swung out towards the Malvern hills, where reputably, there were rich halls and farmsteads, so far untouched by the Danes. He had a larger than normal force with him as the Saxons in that area were fiercer and better fighters than the Angle’s he had raided so far. Most Angles were cowed by the fact that their main settlements in the North were now in the hands of the Danes, but the Saxons were still free in the safer areas of Mercia. It gave those in the remote areas more courage and more to fight for.

  Swinging through the settlements in the foothills of the Malverns, Eirik and his men lay waste to what they could not carry, killing most of the men, gifting a warrior’s death to those who fought well, leaving the old infirm men and women to weep as they enslaved their young boys and daughters. Men who had surrendered were beaten and chained to carts to drag Eirik’s hoard, of food, cooking pots, weapons and precious plate, along with the rampaging war band. Each night women screamed as Eirik’s men took them, although on his orders young maidens were not touched and apart from one or two bruises, no woman was badly hurt. His men knew his anger if any of the potential slaves were injured, he had killed men before for maiming a slave.

  With his blood up and still aroused from the fighting on the first night, he had taken a Saxon woman. Slightly cleaner than the rest, she had not fought too hard, obviously hoping that if he wanted her he would protect her from his men. He had taken the edge of his desire but her weeping and begging had sickened him and he had returned her quickly to her slave chain. He realised that he didn’t just want a woman to hump, he had that already with his nagging wife, but a woman who would respond to his passion with her’s. Laughing at himself he thought ‘fat chance’ and didn’t try anymore of the women. Leif pulled his leg, asking if he was past it, and got a cuff round his ear for his cheek. Realising that his friend was in a foul mood he held his tongue and left him alone.

  Word travelled ahead of them and they found farms and settlements deserted. Cows were hidden away with the people and took some tracking down, Eirik’s dog Geri being a great asset as he sniffed out the fleeing Saxons from a great distance. Eirik’s anger became worse and those that had hidden their possessions were treated harshly. Men were tortured to make them reveal where they had hidden their treasure and then given a quick death once they’d talked. They had more slaves than they knew what to do with so Eirik ordered them lined up and inspected them, picking out the strongest looking men and the most attractive girls and women. the young children were taken out of line, with their mothers wailing for them and herded to one side. Nursing mothers were taken out as well. They all expected to be killed but Eirik ordered them to be herded into the church at one of the larger settlements and the doors bolted. Some of his men wanted to set fire to it but he told them to ‘let them be’. He had their wealth and animals as well as their healthy men, it would take them years to rebuild their homes if they ever did, and he found no honour in killing children and babies.

  Leaving the hills looking as if they were on fire he led his men down on to the border of Hereford and headed towards Frome hill, then on towards Brom-geard, passing the burned out farms and halls he’d sacked previously, the people he’d left behind having fled further into Mercia, seeking safety. He could have chosen another route back to Weogoranceastre, but for some reason this area called to him. Calling a halt on a stretch of open ground covered in bracken he set his men to preparing the staple porridge to feed to the slaves. Leif and Stenar lit a separate fire and killed and prepared a male calf for the warriors to eat, along with the bread and cheese they had taken from the farms. They slept comfortably that night, well fed and on beds of cut bracken.

  Eirik lay awake looking up at the stars ignoring the whimpers of protest from the women his men had taken to their beds. Half asleep he dreamed of a woman, smelling sweetly of flowers and her own sweet musk; slim with straight back, blue eyes and long blonde hair surrounding a beautiful heart shaped face. In his dreams he took her in his arms and she responded, wrapping her long muscular legs around him. Then a loud protest from a woman used too harshly woke him and he growled at his men to stop humping and sleep.

  ***

  Sophie came awake feeling strange and light headed. Struggling into a sitting position she looked around, the tunnel looked as it always had with the blocking wall to her back but when she looked down at herself she cried out in surprise. Her coat and pyjamas had been replaced by a full length blue wool dress with long sleeves, obviously hand sewn but still with some decoration on it. Her feet were encased in soft leather, wrapped around them to appear shoe like and tying off around her calves.

  Staggering to her feet she groped her way along the tunnel, seeing daylight ahead, she must have fallen and knocked herself out and she appeared to have been unconscious for hours if the light was anything to go by. As she neared the end of the tunnel she once again heard screams and shouts and as she emerged into the open she almost screamed too. In front of her men were fighting with swords and axes, arms and heads were being severed and the screams were pitiful. To one side men and women were chained together or to the fronts of carts desperately trying to free themselves.

  A large ugly man with plaited wild hair, dressed in leather and woolen leggings was cutting off a man’s head and others were fighting each other with swords, axes and what appeared to be wooden stakes. Then with a combined roar one group all similarly dressed finished off their opponents and apart from the sobbing of the chained people silence reigned. The ugly man turned towards Sophie grinning lasciviously and stepped towards her.

  She backed up searching for something to defend herself with but he was on her in a second. Fighting for her life Sophie attacked him, in the way she’d been taught years ago in self defence class, gouging her thumb nails into his eyes. With a roar he backhanded her hard, causing her to black out for a second and fall to the ground. He fell on her his hands pulling up her skirt and loosening his britches. To her dismay she seemed to have no underwear on, and although she fought like the devil, scratching and biting at any part of him she could reach, he slowly pressed between her legs. Horrified she realised that she was going to be raped by this ugly killer smelling strongly of blood and horse sweat. Then just as she could resist no longer, he was plucked away and thrown to one side. Scrambling to her feet she found herself confronted by an even taller larger man, who was scowling at her. Taken aback she recognised those cold ice blue eyes, which had taken on a look of surprise. He spoke to her and she had difficulty understanding what he was saying then he repeated it slowly and she understood that he had asked who she was and where she had come from.

  “I’m Sophie Dickton and I came out of that tunnel” she said pointing to the hill.

  Some of the chained people crossed themselves and she heard the word ‘haeg-tesse.’

  The man touched the hammer held on a cord around his neck “Your speech is strange. Are you Myrce?”

  “Well yours is to me too.” Sophie snapped.

  His lips tightening he growled “You dare to speak to me like that? Now you are a slave so you’ll mind your manners.”

  “I’m no slave, and I’ll speak to you how i like. You’re a gang of murderers and rapists!” Sophie was beyond caring now, after all it was only a nightmare, wasn’t it?

  Eirik hadn’t understood what she had said but he recognised her tone, and it gave him pause. Surely this woman must be very high born to dare to speak to a man, never mind a warrior, who could kill her in a second, in such a way. She could be a hostage who would be of some use to jarl Ubbe so he would take her to him. He ordered two of his men to bind her hands and watched in amazement as she fought them. This woman from his dreams was like nothing he’d ever seen before. If she wasn’t a queen of the Myrce, or border people, then she was deranged and as such should not be killed for fear of evil befalling him.

  Stepping in to assist his men he received a knee in his balls and his temper, short already, snapped. H
auling her to a tree stump, he flung her across his knees and pulling up her skirts to reveal her bare bottom, soundly spanked her. To his surprise she didn’t weep or beg but continued to fight him until he’d spanked her bottom a deep red. Exhausted she gave in and as he stood up collapsed onto the ground.

  Growling at the grins on his men’s faces Eirik told them to put her on a horse and tie her ankles to the stirrups, then he ordered them to get the slaves moving. Leaving behind two dozen or more Saxons the Danes hurried away from the hills, passed Braed-was and set course for Weorgoranceastre. One or two of his men had sustained injuries when they’d been ambushed by the Saxons and had had to be placed on the carts, if they survived their wounds would be seen to by Ubbe’s apothecaries.

  As Rolf one of the younger warriors led the horse Sophie was on, Eirik kept glancing at her. Instead of whimpering or moaning about her sore jaw and bottom she sat on the horse with her lips compressed and every time she saw him look at her she glared at him.

  Becoming more aware of the people around her, Sophie slowly began to realise that what was happening to her appeared to be real. Her innate common sense argued with her dawning reality, it couldn’t be real, although everywhere she looked there were differences to the landscape it was still the area from Broadwas to Worcester that they were passing through. The men who had captured her were like nothing she’d ever seen on television or film and had undoubtedly killed those other men with swords and axes. Turning to the boy leading her horse she asked “Who are you? Where are you taking me?”