The Disappearing Rose

by Renee Duke

  “Mind you don’t get those costumes dirty,” said Mrs. Purdom.

  “Someone else with a thing about clean clothes,” Dane murmured as they started down the cellar steps.

  The cellar was a large one, and had other modern features besides electricity, including a boiler, a sink and, in a small room near the stairs, a not-so-modern chain-flush toilet.

  “In movies, secret passages are usually behind a bookcase, or a wardrobe, or some such thing,” Paige said as they made their way past a row of wine racks. “What’s this one behind?”

  “Nothing. Not really. Just a curtain. The upstairs end isn’t behind anything at all, but since it’s in the oldest part of Rosebank, I should imagine it was once covered by a tapestry or something.”

  Squeezing past some barrels, he led them into a storeroom. In keeping with the Wolverton family’s tradition of hoarding, Grantie Etta had filled it with disused furniture and other assorted junk. At the far end was a small wooden door covered by a curtain, a door Jack said was the passage’s only exit point.

  This puzzled Dane. “You mean it doesn’t go outside? It just goes from here to a room upstairs? What’s the point of that? Secret passages are supposed to be escape routes, or at least a means of going in and out of a house surreptitiously.”

  “It’s the only exit point now,” said Jack, pulling the curtain aside to unbolt the door. “The passage originally led out into a wood behind one of the gardens. When that was chopped down, the outside exit was filled in and a door cut to give access to the cellar.”

  He turned on his flashlight and shone it to one side of the passage entrance so the others could see the difference between the new masonry and the old.

  “Come on,” he said, stepping inside.

  Dane’s nose and throat reacted quickly to the damp, musty odours entering his nostrils as he and Paige followed Jack along the narrow tunnel they had entered. His dust and mould allergies were not as bad as some of his other allergies, however, and he was not about to turn back.

  They moved slowly, so as to not trip over rubble or slip on flagstones worn smooth by generations of feet. The passage was fairly even at first, but then sloped upwards and took them to some winding stairs that led to Rosebank’s first and second floors. They then had to traverse another even section before coming to the end of the passage, where, up above their heads, a stone eagle guarded a seemingly blank wall.

  Handing his flashlight to Paige, Jack reached up and twisted the bird’s beak, expecting it to move and activate the secret door. Much to his chagrin, it didn’t.

  “That’s funny,” he said. “I can’t seem to budge this beak.”

  The eagle didn’t respond to Paige’s efforts either. Or Dane’s.

  “The mechanism must be stuck,” said Jack. “Oh, well, there’s not much to see in there anyway. Just some old furniture and a painting or two.”

  Dane pushed on the secret door itself, his medallion clinking against the stones at every shove.

  Paige caught hold of it. “Hmm,” she said. “This thing’s supposed to open ancient portals. Let’s give it a try.” Stretching it out the length of its chain, she pressed it against the wall. “It doesn’t seem to be working,” she said sadly.

  “You didn’t do it right,” said Jack, entering into the game. “I expect it only opens things if you say the rhyme.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot about that. Okay, here goes.”

  She chanted the rhyme in a silly, singsong voice, the kind of voice adults used for saying nursery rhymes to little kids.

  “Well, that didn’t work either,” she said, letting the medallion fall back against Dane’s chest. “I guess someone used up all its special power years ago.”

  “You’re still not doing it right,” Dane said with a grin. “The words do have to be spoken in ‘proper tone’, you know. Let me try.”

  The others giggled as he closed his fist around the medallion and held it next to his heart. They continued to giggle as he repeated the rhyme in solemn, majestic tones, emphasizing every word.

  “Ancient portal, hear this plea,

  Open for thy golden key.

  Feel its power,

  Know its might,

  Put the Mists of Time to flight.”

  Suddenly, sparks jumped at him from every side. Then a strange blue and white mist appeared, accompanied by a roaring sound. Within seconds, his ears were buzzing, and the whole passage spun around him.

  Jack grabbed his shoulder in alarm. “Dane, what’s happening?”

  “I…I guess I did it right,” Dane gasped as the swirling mist engulfed them.

  Chapter Five

  Abruptly, the spinning sensation stopped. As his nausea subsided, Dane shone his flashlight in all directions. To his relief, its beam still revealed the familiar stone walls of the passage. It also revealed a white-faced Jack standing beside him.

  “Are you okay?” Dane asked, making further sweeps with the flashlight in an effort to locate Paige.

  Jack shook his head. “I feel sick. And giddy.” He staggered over to the wall and leaned against it, breathing deeply. “There, that’s better. I say, that was weird. For a minute there, I thought you really had managed to call up some mysterious force. The medallion must have had some kind of powder or something hidden inside it. The heat from your hand turned it into that mist we saw.” He laughed. “Conjurors have been using tricks like that for centuries. No wonder people came to think the medallion was magic. That display was quite impressive.”

  “Impressive enough to make Paige disappear, anyway,” said Dane. “She must have really been spooked.” He called her name but received no reply.

  “Do you think she went for help?”

  “Probably. We’d better find her before she gets everyone in a panic.”

  Calling out her name, Dane led the way along the passage, moving much more quickly than he had before. Intent on catching her up, he did not slacken pace until they reached the cellar level.

  But where was the door leading into the cellar itself? He couldn’t see it anywhere. The passage extended far beyond where the door should have been. Exchanging puzzled glances, the boys followed it around a corner and stood staring at a small patch of daylight.

  For the first time, Dane noticed the absence of the musty smell that had threatened to set off his allergies. And a downward sweep of his flashlight told him the flagstones beneath their feet were no longer worn. Swallowing nervously, he waited a moment before speaking.

  “How much do you want to bet that hole up there leads out into the woods you said this passage used to go out to?”

  “I don’t have to bet,” said Jack. “I know it will.” He paused. “Dane, that mist wasn’t a magic trick. The medallion really works! The ancient portal in the rhyme is a door into time. And the Mists of Time have taken us back to before the end of the passage was filled in.”

  “It’s taken us, but not Paige,” said Dane, worried. “Why didn’t she come with us?”

  Jack frowned. “I don’t know. Unless…well, it could be that it only works for people who are in some kind of contact with it. You were wearing it when the mist started, and I was holding onto you. I don’t think Paige was.”

  Dane thought about it. “No, she wasn’t. If you’re right, she must still be back at Rosebank.”

  “We’re at Rosebank too. We’re just in a different time than she is.”

  For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Jack gestured toward the patch of daylight. “Do you want to go out and see where—and when—this passage goes?”

  “I guess so. We can’t stay in here forever. But what about these clothes we’re wearing? They’ll be all right if we’ve landed in the Middle Ages, but we’re not exactly going to blend in with the crowd if we run into a bunch of Ancient Britons or Roman legionnaires out there.”

  “We won’t. Rosebank wasn’t completed until the fall of fourteen-eighty-one. The period we’ve landed in has to be between then and our own time.”
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  “Oh?” Dane was somewhat comforted by that information. “Well, we should be okay, then. If our clothes aren’t right, we can just say we’re practicing for a play or something. Come on.”

  The passage came out in a small wood. Pushing aside the bushes covering it, Dane could hear birds and other small creatures calling from the trees around them, their chirps and chattering much sharper than anything he was used to. He wondered if this was due to the absence of modern traffic roaring in the distance. He also wondered if the pre-industrial revolution air was any purer than the air he had grown up breathing. He tried a couple of deep breaths and found that it was. So much so, the intake was almost painful.

  He broke off the experiment to help Jack rearrange the bushes covering the passage entrance. But any thoughts they might have had of keeping the passage a secret vanished with the realization that their exit from it had been observed. Turning, they saw two boys standing under a nearby tree looking at them in astonishment.

  The boys were clad in doublets and hose similar to their own and wore thick cloaks. In addition to being much fresher, the air was now much colder than it had been in their own time. A little unnerved to find they had attracted attention so soon, Dane put his flashlight behind his back while he took stock of the two strangers.

  The oldest boy appeared to be about his own age. He was almost as tall, and his blond hair fell in waves to his shoulders in much the same way as Dane’s would have if he had been wearing his wig. He, too, was taking stock, his eyes studying them with as much caution as interest. After a moment, he beckoned them forward.

  “How came you to appear so suddenly?” he asked, somewhat imperiously. “There was not a soul in these woods a moment ago.”

  The other boy hurried forward to greet them. “Oh, Ned, were you not watching? There be some sort of cave beneath those bushes—a cave we might find worthy of exploring.”

  His eyes danced with the thought of adventure. He was around Jack’s height, but Jack was small for his age, and this boy looked slightly younger.

  “All in good time, Dickon,” said the boy called Ned. “I would learn more of this cave first. Be it a large one?” He looked at Dane.

  “It’s not a cave. It’s a tunnel. A passage going back to our great aunt’s…uh, to a house.”

  “A secret passage,” Dickon said excitedly. “Only a secret passage would be covered so. Does it lead back to Rose Blanche? Aye, it must. Master Wolverton’s house is the only one nearby. But I did not know his new home had a secret passage. He did not show it to us.”

  “’Twould be imprudent of him to show it to anyone if he meant to keep it secret,” said Ned. He looked keenly at Dane and Jack. “Are you of Master Wolverton’s household?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.” Dane stumbled over the words. “We’re visiting here too. We’re distant relatives.” Over five hundred years distant, he thought.

  “Come you from England?” Dickon inquired. “Your speech is most curious. As is your shortness of hair and those eyeglasses. I have never seen a pair fashioned in such a way.”

  “Nor I, but ’tis impolite to make such comments, Richard. And I believe your own hair was shorn some years back when you did pour o’er your head a sticky substance that could be removed no other way.” Ned gave the others an apologetic look. “Pray pardon my brother of York. He is still young and appears to have learned few manners at our royal father’s court.”

  Their royal father’s court? Dane shivered. He knew Ned was the most common nickname for Edward in medieval times, and Dickon was obviously a form of the name Richard. Was it possible that he and Jack were standing before the very princes they had been impersonating in his father’s documentary? They were certainly dressed richly enough. The jewels on their hats were not fakes. And they both wore rings that appeared to be made of pure gold. One of Ned’s even had a rose on it, a rose identical to the one on the medallion.

  The same thought had obviously occurred to Jack. “Is the king enjoying his stay here?” he asked casually.

  “He is indeed,” Ned replied. “As am I. I must confess I find it pleasant to take leave of Ludlow for a time.”

  “And would doubtless find it more pleasant if Dr. Alcock had not chosen to take leave of it with him,” said Dickon with a scowl. “Though it be but a two-day visit we are making here, my brother’s tutor would set us both to lessons if he could find us.” He grinned. “That is what brought us to this wood. We thought to hide ourselves amidst its greenery.”

  “You thought to do so,” said Ned ruefully. “The good bishop has oft said you lead me into mischief, brother.”

  “Is that not why you enjoy my company? I strive to bring you the pleasures he and our Uncle Rivers think beneath the dignity of our royal father’s heir.”

  Ned smiled. “Aye, and ’tis willingly enough that I fall in with your schemes. I find your visits to Ludlow all too brief. ’Twould please me well if you could share my studies year round. Alas, our royal mother will not permit that until you are older.” He looked momentarily sad and then smiled again. “’Tis good to find some congenial companions here, however. What be your names?”

  “Dane,” said Dane. “And he’s Jack.”

  “Dane? Now there be a name not oft heard since the Conquest,” Ned mused. Then he flushed. “Oh, I crave pardon. My manners are no better than my brother’s.”

  “That’s okay. It’s not that common a name where I come from either,” said Dane.

  He wondered what he would say if the princes asked him where that was. Fortunately, they didn’t. Ned did look at him curiously but allowed himself to be distracted by Dickon, who was still keen to explore the passage.

  “’Twould seem he will not be turned from this,” said Ned. “Said passage does sound intriguing. Be you so good as to show it to us?”

  Unable to come up with a reason to refuse, Dane held the bushes back so they could enter.

  “’Tis very dark in here.” Dickon sounded worried.

  Without thinking, Dane brought the flashlight out from behind his back and switched it on. The princes leapt back in horror as the beam pierced the darkness.

  “What deviltry is this?” Ned shouted as he and his brother crossed themselves.

  “It’s okay,” said Dane, snapping the instrument off to lessen their anxiety. “It’s just a light—a torch, to help us find our way. It’s…it’s a new invention. You know what an invention is, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” said Ned haughtily. “’Tis well known that our royal father encourages innovative thinking. We have seen many of the new ideas presented to him.” His eyes shone with remembrance. “I thought Master Caxton’s printing press the most worthy. To be able to have so many books in so short a time is truly wondrous.”

  “’Tis indeed,” agreed Dickon. “I especially liked the one he did so graciously dedicate to us. But this is equally wondrous. How does it work, Dane?”

  Switching the flashlight back on, Dane cast his mind back to a school science lesson and tried to come up with an explanation boys living in fifteenth-century England would be able to understand.

  “Um, let’s see. You know how alchemists try to change certain substances into other substances, like lead into gold? That’s not possible, but some substances do react with other substances to make something else.” He held up the flashlight. “This metal cylinder here has things called batteries inside it. The batteries contain chemicals, substances that react with one another to make something called an electric current. If you press this switch here, the current touches that little wire inside the glass bulb. That’s what makes it light up.”

  “It’s not black magic or anything,” said Jack. “It’s just a new way of lighting your way through dark places. You control it by turning the switch on and off.”

  Dane let the princes try it for themselves.

  “Oh, how marvellous,” said Dickon.

  “Indeed,” said Ned. “’Tis hard to believe the man who made this has not yet sought
to bring it to the attention of our royal father.”

  “Wouldn’t he just think it was witchcraft, like you did?” Jack inquired.

  “We were but momentarily startled,” Ned avowed, looking annoyed. “Once explained, anyone would know it was but a device designed by man to serve his needs. The king is no fool. He admires those with the ability to create such objects. He does not regard them as evil sorcerers.”

  “The monks who copy books by hand regard Master Caxton as one,” said Dickon.

  “Such an attitude is understandable, brother. They do beautiful work, and Master Caxton’s printing press will soon make their labours unnecessary. Still, our royal father cannot allow their disapproval to deny mankind the benefits of such a worthy invention.” He turned to Dane. “He is out at present, hunting with Master Wolverton. I am certain this torch will be of interest to him. You must show it to him upon his return.”

  “As for now, we can explore this passage,” said Dickon. “Lead the way, Dane.”

  Chapter Six

  Making their way back along the passage, Dane could not help worrying about how they were going to avoid a meeting with the king or, basically, any adult. Even if most of the Wolvertons were out hunting, there were bound to be some of them in the house. And they were scarcely likely to acknowledge the kinship claims of relatives who would not be born for several centuries.

  All too soon, they found themselves back in front of the stone eagle.

  “What are we going to do if the room on the other side is full of people?” Dane whispered as Jack reached up to trigger the door mechanism.

  “It was originally just a bedroom,” Jack whispered back. “With luck, it’ll be empty.”