by Ian Martyn
‘Don’t fret, I picked up the sword while you were changing.’
‘And the rest?’
‘Got to be prepared,’ Harold said.
Kirby shook his head. ‘What for? You’ve got enough on you to start a small war. It’s Alnwick for God’s sake. No one starts a war in Alnwick.’
‘Unless it’s over a parking space for your four-by-four,’ Shirley muttered.
When Kirby turned to her she was taking a keen interest in the stitching of her jacket.
Harold was about to answer again when Kirby glared at him. ‘And don’t tell me you knew you’d be coming here, wherever here is. When we get back, you and I are having words, or there’ll be a couple of rather hefty coppers paying your shop a little visit.’
‘Well,’ Harold said, trying his best to look hurt. ‘This isn’t Alnwick.’ He waved an arm towards the entrance to the cave, before opening another chest. ‘So I suppose we should get you something as well.’
‘Me?’
‘When in Rome,’ Harold said, delving into the chest and pulling out a short sword and what looked like a vicious hunting knife, both attached to a wide leather belt.
‘What’s Rome got to do with it?’ Kirby said, half wondering if this was yet another twist on where they were.
‘Just an expression,’ Harold said, holding out the weapons and shaking them at Kirby.
Kirby shook his head. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do with those?’
‘Strap them on,’ Harold said. ‘It’s important to look the part. ‘Trust me. You’d look out of place if you weren’t armed.’
Kirby opened his mouth only to find he’d run out of words. As far as he was concerned he had already used up a year’s worth of trust in the last few days. He took the belt and strapped it around his waist, adjusting the sword so it wouldn’t trip him up when he walked. Hell, he thought, this stuff was of more danger to himself than anyone who tried to attack him. He drew the sword half out of its scabbard. To his dismay, it looked as if it had been used and not just for chopping vegetables. There were spots of rust and small notches in the blade.
‘Sorry, not the best, I know. Hopefully, you shouldn’t have to use it.’
‘Shouldn’t! Hopefully!’ Kirby rammed the sword back in the scabbard. ‘Harold, this may be news to you but in the modern police force self-defence training doesn’t tend to include sword play.’
He looked up to see that Connie had selected a sword and a longbow, and Harold was handing Susie and Shirley slimmer versions of the sword he’d given him and delicate-looking crossbows. They were both grinning as if Christmas had come early and their respective boyfriends had actually listened to the hints they’d been dropping for the previous two months.
‘Why not just hand us a couple of hand guns and have done with it?’ Kirby mumbled.
‘Wouldn’t look right,’ Harold said, as if that was all the explanation needed.
‘Of course,’ Kirby muttered. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ He shrugged, then straightened his shoulders in a “well here we go” sort of way. ‘Come on then, lead on McDuff.’
‘Who’s McDuff?’ Shirley asked.
Kirby shook his head. ‘We haven’t got time.’
Goran stood alongside Harold, looking out. ‘At least it’s stopped raining.’
At the cave entrance, the air was clearing. Curls of mist clung to the tops of trees before drifting away to reveal a thickly-wooded landscape for as far as Kirby could see. The smell of rich soil and wet vegetation filled his nostrils. Until now his brain had continued to put up some resistance to being where he’d been told they were. However, peering out he had to admit this wasn’t Alnwick, Craster or Northumberland as he knew it. He watched Harold taking a deep breath, the lines on his face seeming to soften and smooth as a smile appeared.
‘So where are we going?’ Kirby asked.
Harold pointed. To what, Kirby had no idea. ‘Down there.’
He glanced across at Connie, who was smiling. ‘Our village.’
‘I can’t see anything?’
‘No you won’t.’
‘We’d better get moving.’ Goran said, looking towards the sun which was a smudged, watery yellow disc sinking towards the horizon. ‘The sun’ll be gone in an hour.’ Kirby expected him to add some warning about being out in the dark. He didn’t.
forty-one
Kirby let the others drift ahead of him. Half of his policeman’s brain was trying to analyse his current situation, the other half was trying to make sure he didn’t trip up and make a fool of himself. He glanced ahead at Shirley who seemed to just accept the situation and even appeared to be enjoying herself. Correction, she was definitely enjoying herself. But for him it just felt ridiculous and bizarre. Here he was, a Newcastle copper, dressed like an extra from some second-rate TV historical drama, following a man who normally wore a grey cardigan and ran a corner shop. Although he had to admit that in this environment Harold was a different. He’d seen glimpses of it in Jesmond, when Harold put on the coat and became taller, as if the old man routine was just a front, which he supposed it was. In this place, Harold’s eyes were sharper, his jaw stronger, jutting forward as if leading the way. Without his baggy wool disguise, the man’s frame and muscles were defined. Strong and wiry were words that came to mind.
When Goran appeared, Kirby fancied he could see some family resemblance, the same physique, the same shaped nose. They both looked as if they belonged, even if Harold had a name straight out of a children’s book. Except of course that a character from infant literature was unlikely to be carrying a small arsenal hidden in his “longcoat”.
Then there was Connie, who seemed equally at home here, which shouldn’t be a surprise as apparently it was, or at least had been, her home. His mum had been right, she was a nice lady. She was easy to talk to. She’d make a good copper, he thought. The sort of person you naturally found yourself opening up to. He smiled to himself. He knew he was still carrying mental baggage, that it was time he put it down and left it behind. So maybe he would pay her a visit when this was all over.
Falling behind the others a few steps was Susie. Her body language spoke volumes. Arms folded across her chest, her eyes were fixed on Connie’s back.
Kirby caught up with her. ‘Don’t be too hard on your mum.’
Susie glanced at him then resumed her focus on her mother. ‘Is it that obvious?’
He smiled at her. ‘Well, I am a detective of many years’ experience.’
Susie returned the smiled. ‘Sorry.’
Kirby nodded. ‘It’s something you don’t understand until you’re a parent yourself. It suddenly hits you that there is someone whose safety and happiness means more to you than your own. Someone who you’ll do anything to protect. That when they’re hurt, all you want to do is take that hurt from them and make everything better. You can’t always do that of course and that failing hurts you even more.’
Susie put her arm through his. ‘You’re talking about your daughter, aren’t you?’
Kirby nodded. ‘When Jeanie died, I just wanted to protect Anna from the world. Then as a single parent there was no one else to tell me I was overdoing it. My mum said she’d cope just as well as me, if not better. Yet I still…’
Susie wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand.
Kirby patted her hand. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Susie smiled at him. ‘No, thank you.’ She glanced at her mother again. ‘I want to be angry with her and sometimes I think I am. I do know she only has my best interests at heart. I just wish she’d told me everything sooner.’
‘But when is sooner? Too soon and you would have struggled to cope. For whatever reason, she decided to leave here, live in my world, your world. I’m sure she felt she had no choice.
‘I know you’re right.’
Kirby straightened his shoulders. ‘As a policeman, I’m always right.’ He sagged a little. ‘However, as a parent I admit that even I ma
ke mistakes.’
Susie laughed.
Kirby patted Susie’s hand. ‘And your mum’s gone one better than telling you about it, she’s brought you here.’
‘I suppose so,’ Susie said, her gaze drifting ahead towards Goran.
‘A bit different to the guys at college then?’
Susie glanced at him before focusing on Goran again. ‘Just a bit. See how he moves. While we clomp along, his footfall is the merest whisper. He seems to flow over the ground with the grace of a male ballet dancer.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Susie blushed. ‘No, it’s more than that. I’m not saying he isn’t rather sexy in a rugged sort of way. But it’s like he was shaped by this land, time, whatever, just as we’re shaped by living in twenty-first-century Newcastle. I get the feeling that as he looks over the landscape, he misses nothing, knows every tree, every animal, sensing anything that might be out of place. Same as you would in Jesmond.’
Kirby looked around them. ‘Yes, I see the similarity.’
Susie laughed again. ‘You know what I mean.’
Connie turned and looked back at them. ‘You two seem to be getting on well.’
‘The inspector and I were just having a chat, that’s all.’
Connie raised an eyebrow and smiled. ‘Really? About what?’
Susie smiled. ‘Oh, just things.’ She leant into Kirby. ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she whispered, then skipped ahead to link arms with her mother.
Kirby watched them, thinking that when he got back he should perhaps have a long chat with his own daughter.
As he looked around, Susie was right. Back in Newcastle he had a feel for the place, his instincts analysed and filtered even when he wasn’t aware of them doing so. Here those instincts seemed about as much use as a chocolate teapot. Kirby closed his eyes for a second and then opened them as if hoping he’d find himself back on familiar streets in his beloved brogues. He wasn’t, and what’s more, he was carrying a weapon, not that he had a clue what he would do with it if they were attacked; he’d probably chop off his own hand. Whenever the debate had arisen in the canteen of whether the police should carry weapons, as it did from time to time, he would ask, ‘What, do you think this is the wild west?’ In fact he’d said it so often that now all the other officers would chorus it as soon as the subject was raised.
Kirby chastised himself. That kind of woolly thinking got you nowhere. He’d always prided himself that he accepted situations for what they were, not what he wished them to be. He’d seen other officers make mistakes trying to manipulate facts to fit the picture of what they thought a crime should be. No, you formed a hypothesis from the evidence, not try and fit the evidence to your hypothesis. And you got that by walking the streets and talking to people. After all, crimes were committed by human beings. Things didn’t steal themselves, knives didn’t suddenly decide to poke people. Wasn’t that what he kept telling the young detectives as they peered at their screens and searched Google looking for answers?
That’s what he was doing here, following the people, so perhaps he was following his instincts after all. He’d always said to expect the unexpected. And this was about as unexpected as unexpected could get, so he was doing that as well. Ahead, Harold was picking his way, choosing paths with the confidence of someone who knew their way around like he did in Newcastle. Kirby smiled, happy that his instincts were back in play.
forty-two
The sun was setting when they entered a village made up of what Kirby presumed, from watching “Time Team”, were twenty or thirty round houses. People stopped what they were doing and others emerged from the buildings. Four large men sporting impressive beards approached them, hands on the hilts of their swords. Kirby’s hand also went to the sword at his side although he couldn’t think why. He suspected that these men could remove his head from his shoulders while he was still working out which was the pointy end. To his relief all four broke into broad grins. One of them stepped forward and grasped Harold’s arm, pulling him into a fierce, back-slapping embrace, which Harold returned with equal vigour. Kirby hoped this wasn’t a greeting everyone would get as he wasn’t sure his soft twenty-first-century body would survive it. As Connie appeared from behind Harold, three of the men dropped to their knees just as Goran had done in the cave. The man Kirby took to be the leader of the group, who looked a little older than the others with more grey in his beard and hair, pulled her into a hug.
‘Hello, Oralf,’ Connie said.
When they pulled apart, Kirby saw to his surprise that the man had tears in his eyes.
The man wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and started speaking.
‘I take it this is your language?’ Kirby asked. Harold nodded. ‘What’s he saying?’
Harold leaned in a little and kept his voice low. ‘He’s saying, “It’s been far too long little sister.”’
‘Sister?’
Connie leaned forward and kissed Oralf on the cheek and said a few words in the same language.’
Oralf nodded and hugged her again.
When they parted, Connie held on to Oralf’s arm. ‘Susie, come and meet your uncle.’
Oralf spread his arms wide. ‘Surelsia?’
Susie stepped forward to be engulfed in her uncle’s embrace. When he released her he spoke again.
‘He’s saying,’ Connie said, ‘that you were just a babe last time he saw you, and look at you now.’ Oralf laughed and hung an arm around Susie’s shoulders as he carried on. Connie smiled. ‘And that you’ll have to fight off all the young men of the village.’ He glanced across at a scowling Goran and laughed again. Susie blushed, which evoked more laughter. Still with his arm around her, he directed a question at Connie.
Susie looked across at her mum. ‘He’s asking if you know all about them. I told him that we’re here now and it’s complicated. He knows that.’
‘I wish I could talk to him.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. Please believe me it was for the best.’
Susie nodded.
Oralf turned to Harold.
‘This is Oralf,’ Harold explained to Kirby and Shirley. ‘The leader of the village and my cousin, sort of, and as you’ve gathered Connie’s brother. Two of the others are his personal spearmen and the taller man at the back is his brother-in-law.’
Kirby nodded. ‘Oralf,’ he said, holding out his hand and trying not to stiffen in anticipation.
‘Joo-nar,’ the man said along with a few more words and waving his arm to take in the village. He then grasped Kirby’s forearm, at the same time giving him a friendly thump on the shoulder which almost had Kirby off his feet. He was sure to have bruise in the morning.
Shirley looked a little worried as Oralf approached, then relieved as he simply bowed in front of her. He looked her up and down, said a few words, then grinned.
‘He said “welcome”,’ Harold translated.
Shirley narrowed her eyes at Harold. ‘That was a lot of words for “welcome”?’
‘Er, he praised your fair hair and, er… your beauty.’
‘Oh,’ Shirley said as she caught the drift of what Harold was saying. She smiled at Oralf. ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’
Oralf laughed again and clapped Harold on the back before leading them to the centre of the village.
‘What did you say to him?’ Shirley asked as she walked alongside Harold.
‘I just told him you were spoken for by a mighty warrior.’
‘Hmm,’ Shirley said, frowning.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kirby asked.
Shirley shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just somehow a vision of Barry slouching on the sofa with a beer, a bag of cheese and onion, watching the footy, doesn’t quite equate with mighty warrior.’
The round houses surrounded an open central area in the middle of which a fire was blazing, and sizzling on a spit was what Kirby presumed was a whole deer. The smell that drifted his way made his stomach rumble in anticipation.
‘
Yes, smells good, doesn’t it?’ Harold said. ‘Don’t know about you but I’m hungry and fresh venison beats spam fritters or a Ginsters meat pie. First though, we’d better get rid of this lot,’ he said, tapping the sword at his side. ‘Not very hospitable to turn up at a feast in your honour armed.’
‘Alright though in a pub in Jesmond,’ Kirby said, raising an eyebrow.
Harold smiled. ‘Well, you never know.’
Kirby watched as Connie led the girls towards a small hut, while Harold took him into an identical one a few yards away.
‘They were expecting us?’ Kirby said as he shrugged off his pack next to what he guessed was a sleeping mat.
Harold turned to him. ‘This is Oralf’s world. They knew we were here the moment we left the cave.’
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
Harold unbuckled his sword. ‘Would anyone see you in Jesmond if you didn’t want them to?’
‘No.’
‘There you are then.’
With some relief Kirby let his own sword belt drop to the ground. He glanced across at Harold. ‘So what about Connie’s parents? I presume her father was head man or whatever before Oralf?’
Harold nodded. ‘He was although it doesn’t always follow.’
Kirby let the silence develop as he fiddled with his pack. However, this time Harold didn’t fill it. ‘And?’ he asked after a few seconds.
‘Ah.’
‘Ah?’
Harold put his own pack down then stood and scratched his chin. ‘Well, Marianne was always a headstrong girl with bold ideas, shall we say. She had abilities even then and believed she knew how they should be used. When she was fifteen she ran off to be with Sisillius. Not that she had any affection for him; he was a miserable little sod even at that age. However, his father was the most powerful man in the area and Marianne thought she could use him.’
‘Well that explains why Connie and Marianne don’t get on.’
‘Oh, that’s not the half of it. You see their father went to take Marianne back and Sisillius’s father had him killed. Some say Marianne put him up to it. Sisillius says her father attacked him.’