The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2)

by Benjamin Ford

  ‘Hmm,’ Matthew intoned thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow inquisitively. ‘This sounds rather intriguing. Can it be you know more about what is going on than I do? All of a sudden you seem rather unfazed by all this.’

  Joyce interrupted him. ‘Oh believe me, Matthew, nothing could be further from the truth. I’m petrified by the prospect of someone I love being possessed, or whatever is really happening, however, more than ever it merely reinforces the fact that you and I need to talk, in private… urgently!’

  ‘Okay, Joyce. Are you staying in the village?’

  Joyce nodded. ‘I am staying with one of my sister’s friends. She’s the mother of Gloria Schofield.’

  ‘Getaway!’ gasped Matthew incredulously. He leaned in close. ‘Has she said anything about Gloria’s mysterious disappearance?’ he whispered.

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ Joyce replied. ‘It’s not my place to do so.’ She fished in her handbag to withdraw a piece of paper and a pen, and after a few moments of thought, wrote down Rachel Schofield’s address. ‘If you go from here to The Green Woman Inn, carry on walking and take the first turning on the left, and her cottage is the last one at the very end of the lane. Come for dinner this evening. Six o’clock. We can talk then.’

  Matthew took the paper without even glancing at it, folded it, and put it absentmindedly in his pocket. ‘Are you quite sure it’s okay for you to be inviting me to dinner at someone else’s house, Joyce?’

  ‘Yes, I’m quite sure. Anyway, I shall be doing the cooking. I’d better go now – I have a lot to get on with today.’ Joyce fixed Matthew with an unwavering stare. ‘Promise me you’ll be there tonight?’

  ‘Okay, I promise I’ll be there at six o’clock,’ sighed Matthew.

  Joyce prodded his chest with her right index finger. ‘Don’t be late!’ She opened the front door and left the house, walking down the driveway without a backwards glance.

  Only after she walked through the gates and disappeared from view did Matthew close the front door and return to his father in the sitting room. ‘Well done, Dad,’ he mumbled sarcastically, flouncing down once more onto his chair. ‘How to drive your son’s friends out of his own house in one easy lesson.’

  Roger ignored his son’s words. ‘Well then, child, has anything happened since your arrival in this place? Have there been any strange occurrences?’

  ‘And there you go again, speaking in that bizarre tone of voice. You are the only strange thing that’s happened, Dad. Are you going to explain what’s going on now, or am I to be left in the dark again?’

  ‘Have you seen any strange people exhibiting strange behaviour?’ intoned Roger, still ignoring Matthew’s questions.

  ‘Again, only you!’

  ‘I sensed something in the house as I arrived, It has gone now though. Think, child. Are you certain you have seen nothing odd?’

  ‘You really are serious, aren’t you?’ whispered Matthew, abandoning levity for dread.

  ‘Deadly serious! Think, child. Anything?’

  ‘Well… yes, there is something odd. Last year, when Elaine Oakhurst beat me to the purchase of this house, I met an estate agent called Max Revenant. It was he who gave me the keys to Four Oaks after I inherited the place from Elaine, and both times, he seemed to disappear into thin air the moment I turned my back. Twice yesterday, I was certain I saw him again, once, down by the main gate, and minutes later near the top of that hill!’ He pointed dramatically through the French Windows at Wicca Hill in the distance. ‘There’s definitely something odd about him.’

  ‘You must stay away from him,’ intoned Roger loudly. When Matthew asked why, he ignored the question. ‘I shall remain here at Four Oaks to protect you, child. I will not lose you again. The cycle of death shall finally end, once and for all.’

  Matthew frowned. ‘Dad… whoever you are… stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what the fuck is going on!’

  Roger’s head snapped up sharply, fixing Matthew with eyes that blazed with fury. ‘You will watch your language, boy! I will not have you sully the innocence of–’ He stopped mid-sentence and slumped back in the sofa, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead as though dizzy.

  When he opened them again, Matthew immediately sensed the change and instinctively knew the spirit had departed and his father had returned. ‘Hi, Dad,’ he said, with an uneasy smile.

  Roger glanced around at his surroundings in confusion, finally locking eyes with his son. ‘What happened? Where are we? How did I get here?’

  ‘Don’t you remember anything, Dad?’

  Roger mutely shook his head.

  Matthew sighed. ‘We’re at Four Oaks, Dad, the house I inherited in Elendale.’

  ‘Why am I here?’

  ‘I think the long journey must have drained you. Perhaps you would like to rest a while in one of the bedrooms, and then after lunch, if you have sufficiently recovered, perhaps we can sit down for a father-son chat?’

  ‘Is your mother here?’

  Smiling with near sadistic pleasure, Matthew shook his head. ‘No, Dad, there’s no one here except you and me. Just the two of us. Father and son, under the same roof with nobody else for company.’

  ‘Somehow,’ said Roger in a quiet voice, ‘that information does not comfort me!’

  ‘Well, for whatever reason, you chose to come here, Dad. I didn’t invite you. So once you have rested, we are going to talk, just like two civilised adults.’

  Roger nodded slowly. ‘Yes, son, I think it’s about time we did just that.’

  Matthew sighed with relief, and smiled a genuinely friendly smile at his father. ‘Come on then, I’ll show you up to one of the spare rooms.’

  *

  Rachel tied her white hair back in a neat ponytail, checked her appearance in the mirror, and giving herself a subtle nod of approval, opened the bedroom door and made her way down to the kitchen, where the decidedly pleasing aroma of frying sausages and bacon greeted her.

  She had to admit that she quite liked having the company of Joyce and her son, even though she did not actually know them. They had only been staying with her for a couple of nights, but already she had grown quite fond of Theo. He was one of the most charming, likeable young men she had encountered, and somehow his vitality had begun to rub off on her.

  Since Jeremy’s death, shortly after moving to the cottage, she had not exactly let herself go as such, but saw little necessity for wearing makeup, or dressing as smartly as she once had whilst living in London. It felt more natural in the country to wear jeans, and baggy old shirts and sweaters that had once been Jeremy’s. Theo’s natty dress sense however made her feel decidedly dowdy, and so she suddenly found herself digging in the back of her wardrobe for the smarter clothes she so seldom wore.

  She had preconceived notions about Theo before she had agreed to let the young man and his mother stay at her cottage. She was quite freely willing to admit that she had expected him to be a completely lazy layabout, bone-idle to the core.

  She could not have been more wrong about anything.

  He had cooked both evenings so far, though not always with the desired results, and yesterday he had helped her finish tidying up in the garden, and now, as she glanced around the spotless kitchen, she could tell he had not only cooked a glorious smelling breakfast, but he had also cleaned up after himself as well.

  Theo turned as he heard her enter the kitchen. ‘Good morning, Mrs Schofield,’ he said with a cheery grin. ‘I managed not to set light to the frying pan this morning!’

  Rachel chuckled at the memory of Theo’s abortive attempt at cooking a traditional English breakfast yesterday morning, which had resulted in flames shooting up from the frying pan, singing his eyebrows. Indeed, his face still glowed a bit, even now. ‘It does help not to get the fat too hot,’ she said.

  ‘I say, you’re looking pretty snazzy this morning, Mrs Schofield. Are you off out somewhere?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘No, dear, I just feel I’ve b
een rejuvenated a bit. It must be the company I’ve been keeping. And please, call me Rachel.’

  ‘Hmm… I’m not sure that’s entirely appropriate. I call all my mum’s friends by their title and surname. I guess it’s something I’ve just carried over from childhood.’

  ‘Well I’m your friend, so it is entirely appropriate. Besides… I insist!’

  ‘Okay then, Rachel, thanks for that.’

  ‘Thanks for what?’

  ‘For saying you’re my friend.’

  ‘Well I am! I don’t really know your mother any more than I know you, so I consider you both my friends.’

  ‘Of course, you do know Aunt Lesley!’

  Rachel chuckled. ‘Indeed I do!’ She leaned close to him to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, even though they were alone on the kitchen. ‘Your aunt and uncle once startled my mother when she came to stay with me in London.’

  Theo sniggered. ‘Did they give her a strip show by any chance?’

  ‘They did indeed.’

  ‘They’re always doing that! Apparently, Uncle Jack sleepwalks in the nude these days. He did that while we were up at your old family home… gave Mum quite a turn!’

  Rachel threw back her head, laughing. ‘I bet it did! As I recall, your uncle is quite an arresting sight when he’s naked!’

  Theo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Rachel thumped his shoulder with a squeal of amused disapproval.

  ‘Actually,’ said Theo, rubbing his shoulder ruefully, ‘Ravenscreag Hall is quite an unnerving place. I can’t believe your mother used to live there on her own.’

  ‘Not quite on her own,’ Rachel sighed, trembling at memories of Ravenscreag Hall. ‘Mother always had help whilst living there, and I was glad to get away from that house. She loved the place, but I could never see the attraction.’

  ‘How did your family come to own such a huge house? I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not exactly a large family, are you?’

  ‘It’s a long and complicated story, Theo, most of which you probably wouldn’t believe. My great-grandmother, I discovered, was the Nineteenth Century novelist, Ria Neville. She lived at Ravenscreag with her family, and that’s where she wrote all her novels. I guess she loved the peace and quiet of the place.’

  ‘Writing runs in your family, doesn’t it? Wasn’t your daughter Gloria Schofield, the historical novelist? She disappeared, as I recall. ‘

  A wistful look of sadness came into Rachel’s eyes at the mention of her daughter in the same conversation as her great-grandmother. She decided not to burden Theo with that tale, and ignored his unspoken request for information about Gloria’s disappearance. ‘Novel writing is a talent that passed me by,’ she sighed. ‘All my life I wondered how Mother was able to maintain the house on just her pension, but after her death I was made aware that the head of the family receives royalties annually from the continued sales of Ria Neville’s works. Obviously, the money is less than it once was, but the books have been recently reissued so there’s a nice sum coming in to me now that I don’t have the burden of that monstrosity.’

  ‘Speaking of mothers,’ said Theo, changing the subject completely, ‘do you know where mine has got to? She wasn’t in her room when I took her a cup of tea earlier.’

  Rachel shrugged. ‘I expect she’s gone for a walk. Living in the country makes you want to do that… often.’

  ‘Do you go for long walks, Rachel?

  ‘Oh yes, every day… for at least two hours.’ As Rachel sat at the small table in the corner of the large kitchen, watching Theo dish up the unhealthy, but delicious smelling fried breakfast, she told him how she had seldom walked anywhere whilst living in London. She wistfully reminisced about all the good times she and Jeremy shared in the capital during their long life together. The only bad times occurred on their occasional visits to Ravenscreag. She had loved her cantankerous old mother dearly, but had always detested the monstrous gothic monolith in the middle of nowhere with a vengeance.

  Ravenscreag might have been the place where she grew up, but it had never even remotely felt like a home to her. More than once over the years it crossed her mind that the house was too large for its few occupants, and only once her Mother had told her of the family curse did she understand why the house remained in the family.

  The chain of events, set in motion following Gloria’s discovery of a handwritten manuscript written four hundred years earlier, had been the catalyst for her disappearance, and Rachel still missed her daughter terribly. No matter how hard she tried, it remained a daily challenge to get to grips with the notion that, though she would never again see her, Gloria had lived a full and eventful life with her husband and daughter.

  She tried not to think of the conundrum, because every time she did so, great waves of dizziness crashed through her mind, but every time she thought of Gloria, she rekindled the ever-burning embers of those memories.

  That was why she did not particularly enjoy visiting Louise and Phil in their cottage, which had after all once belonged to Gloria, and why she was so glad to be rid of Ravenscreag finally, and also why she did not really want to discuss the place.

  When Lesley appeared with Joyce and Theo on Monday evening, Rachel had initially been decidedly wary. They had originally planned to stay with Susan and Daniel Barncroft, but they – apparently – suggested she might prefer their company. It was only because of her increasing loneliness that Rachel agreed. She had made no mention of Gloria or Ravenscreag, and even though Lesley mentioned that they had all just driven down from Rachel’s former family home in Scotland, nothing more was said about the house and its history, until Theo mentioned it.

  Nothing at all was spoken about the events of the past, and Lesley opted to stay with Susan and Daniel, abandoning her sister and nephew with someone who was a total stranger to them, which Rachel thought odd.

  Lost in her thoughts, Rachel became aware that Theo was talking to her, having placed a plate of breakfast before her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said winsomely, ‘I didn’t hear a word you said then.’

  ‘That’s okay, I could tell you were lost in a world of your own. You were thinking of Gloria, weren’t you?’

  When Rachel looked up at him sharply, her face distraught, Theo held up his hand.

  ‘Don’t worry, Rachel, I’m not going to ask lots of questions about her. I understand that you don’t wish to talk about her.’

  ‘Theo, may I ask you a question, dear?’

  Theo sat down beside Rachel and looked into her eyes. ‘You’re wondering what Mother and I are doing here, aren’t you?’

  Rachel chuckled softly. ‘You are very perceptive.’

  ‘That’s one of my more endearing traits, or less endearing, depending on your point of view.’ Theo took a deep breath. ‘Myself, personally, I have come to try and make my peace with Matthew.’

  ‘Is he the young man who’s inherited the house on the far side of the village? The house you have to travel all the way around that infernal hill to get to?’

  ‘Four Oaks, that’s the one. Matthew was my boyfriend for several years, and though we’ve had our ups and downs, our relationship has been on a major downer recently, and it’s taken nearly losing him for me to finally realise how beastly I’ve been to him for ages.’ Theo saw the shock in Rachel’s eyes. ‘Oh, you didn’t realise I’m gay. Sorry, I hope it’s not going to be a problem?’

  ‘Good lord no, I don’t have a problem with that at all. After all the things I have witnessed and experienced in recent years, I have been forced to become very open-minded about a great many things. It’s just… well, to my knowledge I have never met a gay man before. You’re… well, you’re just so normal.’

  Theo laughed. ‘Why, thank you, Rachel. I do like to think of myself as normal.’

  ‘I’m sorry, that sounded rather patronizing, and it wasn’t meant to be. It’s just… well, I had no idea until you told me just then, which leads me to wonder just how many other people I’ve known over the yea
rs are gay!’

  ‘Well, we’re not all incredibly camp.’

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed you are not, which is quite a refreshing discovery, actually. So… you’ve been really beastly to Matthew, and you have come to woo him back?’

  Theo nodded.

  ‘So why has your mother come here?’

  Theo shrugged. ‘I still don’t know why she visited Aunt Lesley up at Ravenscreag. Mum hates that house as much as you do, and swore she’d never set foot through its door, yet for some reason she broke that vow.’

  Rachel sat back in her chair, regarding Theo carefully. ‘And what did you make of my old home?’

  ‘It’s unnerving, as I said earlier, but it didn’t give me the creeps quite as much as it did Mum. Nothing eventful happened while we were there, unless you count Uncle Jack wandering around naked in the middle of the night. It was really rather disappointing, actually. You know of course that Aunt Lesley and Uncle Jack are planning to turn it into a hotel?’

  Rachel chuckled. ‘For ghost hunters, I am led to believe!’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought that was just a joke?’

  Theo shook his head solemnly, stating that he hoped some spectral phenomena manifested itself if the plan went ahead, otherwise the Standish’s venture would fail before it got off the ground.

  ‘Personally, I think they should have bought somewhere down here,’ sighed Rachel.

  ‘Oh, why so?’

  ‘This whole area is quite possibly the most haunted area in the country, if you ask me! Four Oaks is allegedly haunted. Spirits manifest themselves regularly at my daughter’s old cottage. The local pub is called The Green Woman for a reason! Not to mention Dead Man’s Wood and Wicca Hill!’

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Rachel?’

  In spite of her previous reservations about discussing such matters, Theo’s effortless charm finally disarmed Rachel enough to allow her to talk things through with an outsider. ‘Oh yes, indeed I do. You wouldn’t believe the things I have seen.’ She looked Theo directly in the eye. ‘Would you like to hear my tale?’