‘Only when he’s been to see Francis Parker.’ Dora shrugged. ‘But don’t worry about it. Why don’t you go and have your lunch? Take a little stroll round town, maybe. Get some fresh air and exercise.’
* * * *
Susannah walked back into the library to find David sitting in Dora’s little office, drinking strong black coffee and looking as if he’d just been sick – his hair was damp and tousled, and there were yellow flecks on his white shirt.
Susannah wondered what to say. ‘Do you feel better now?’ she asked, too brightly. ‘I could drive you home – ‘
‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.’ David stumbled to his feet. ‘Right, let’s do some work. Where’s that old shopping list you found?’
The piece of vellum had been trimmed to fit the leather cover, so much of the original text was missing. See that the miller supplies the finest meal – we will have no bran here, ran one truncated line. Tell Brother Aelfric that the cheese must be well-ripened, and wrapped in barley straw.
But Susannah soon got tired of David breathing gin all over her. ‘I must do some work on the millennium stuff,’ she said. She put the sheet of vellum into a folder. ‘I’ll take this home with me, if that’s all right?’
‘You put me to shame. George told me you were a very intense young woman.’ David laid his head down on his blotter and went to sleep again.
* * * *
That evening, Susannah did some washing and listened to a master from the cathedral school moaning about his fourth year. ‘Fancy a beer?’ he asked, when he’d exhausted the subject of his horrible little pupils. ‘We could go the Lamb and Flag.’
‘Yes, okay.’ Susannah scooped up her washing. ‘Aubrey, do you have a Latin dictionary I could borrow?’
‘Certainly.’ Aubrey Gordon grinned. ‘Come up and get it, any time.’
Susannah went for a drink with Aubrey, decided she liked but didn’t fancy him, so turned she down the offer of a coffee in his room. She borrowed his Latin dictionary, then spent the rest of the evening with her salvaged document.
She could make little of it, for the vellum was so dirty and the text so smudged and faded that apart from the odd word or phrase, it was hardly legible. Let alone translatable into English.
She ploughed on, picking out a word or two until she came to a line she couldn’t read at all.
It took her a while to realise what had happened, to turn the sheet around, and see that the shopping list had been written on the blank part of some other text.
This new text was no mere inventory of wheat and cheese. It wasn’t in Latin. It was in Anglo-Saxon. The script was very small, but it was also very neat, and infinitely clearer than the smudged and faded Latin. Susannah felt her scalp begin to prickle. She could read this document easily.
Her on thysum geare, she read, sende seo cwen to tham genithlum here gyrndon frithes. In this year, the queen sent a message to the enemy army, seeking peace.
She held the sheet up to the light. Yes, there was what she needed, in the right hand margin. The scribe had written the date, in careful Roman numerals. It was 825, or maybe 826 – that little mark could be an extra stroke.
The offer of peace could not have been accepted, for our people fought like heroes. Wulfhere the thane was at the queen’s right hand, hacking and hewing all day long, until he was –
Until he was what? The page was torn, and so she couldn’t read the next few words. But further on, the text grew clear again, and she read that Raedwald, Cenred and his servant Ceada left the queen surrounded by her household thanes. They attacked the king himself.
But which king was this? The scribe didn’t give his name.
Raedwald and his hearth companions fought like ravening wolves. Cenred and Sicarius wounded many thanes and churls from among the king’s own bodyguard. But then the king himself had –
Done what? Run away? Susannah frowned down at the document, willing it to let her know its secrets.
So the queen prevailed, went on the scribe. She left the field of battle to the ravens. She marched back to her city, which the Britons called –
But there was a black smudge here, which hid the text completely. Susannah held the page up to the light. But is in English Weolinsleah…
Susannah didn’t recognise the passage. But she supposed it must be from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the history of the English from the time they’d first arrived in Britain. Tomorrow, she decided, she would track the reference down.
* * * *
‘It must be from the Chronicle,’ she said, as she explained to David what she’d found. ‘Do we have a copy of Garmonsway’s translation?’
‘It’s in the bookcase.’ David stared down at the piece of vellum. ‘But this isn’t from the Chronicle.’
‘No?’ Susannah turned the pages, looking for the entries for 825 and 826 AD. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘It doesn’t feel right – doesn’t look right, either. This date should be on the left, not over here. It’s as if someone scribbled it later, as an afterthought. Or even as a guess. What does the Chronicle say?’
‘Nothing,’ said Susannah. ‘There’s nothing about a queen suing for peace.’
‘Perhaps the date is wrong?’
‘Perhaps, but in the index there’s only one man called Raedwald. He was king of East Anglia, in 617 AD. David, where was that leather binding made?’
‘In Marbury, I would guess,’ said David. ‘It was a fairly amateurish job – no famous London bookbinder made that.’
‘So where did this vellum come from?’
‘Somewhere local, too?’ David looked like a hound picking up a scent. ‘Perhaps we should we ring Janet?’
But as Susannah picked up the phone, Janet herself came in, wearing a tight jumper and a microscopic skirt. She slumped into a chair. ‘Any chance of coffee?’ she demanded.
‘Probably.’ David grinned. ‘You’re looking very glamorous today.’
‘I’ve just been for an interview, at the local British Heritage Trust. They want some mug to work part time, for thirty quid a week.’
‘Doing what?’ asked David.
‘Just about every mortal thing, I reckon.’ Janet scowled at him. ‘Excavating, lecturing, recording – cleaning the bogs on all the Heritage sites, I shouldn’t wonder – and it’s just a two year contract.’
‘But you’d take it?’
‘I might have to.’ Janet grimaced. ‘I was interviewed by some ancient virgin, in a twinset and her mother’s pearls. So this new outfit was a waste of money.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ David said. ‘You’ve probably given half of Marbury quite a thrill this morning.’
Janet pulled a face at him. ‘God, I pity you,’ she told Susannah. ‘How do you stand it, stuck here in this shit hole with this stupid little pansy, every bloody day?’
Susannah blushed, embarrassed. But David didn’t seem at all perturbed. ‘Susannah’s found something interesting,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’ yawned Janet.
‘We don’t know, exactly.’ Susannah handed her the piece of vellum. ‘It might be from the Chronicle, but we can’t pin it down.’
‘So when Susannah’s made a transcript,’ added David, ‘we’ll ask the British Museum to take a look.’
‘You reckon it could be kosher?’ Janet asked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said David.
Janet put the vellum back on his desk. ‘We had more loot brought in today,’ she said. She rummaged in her bag and produced an earring and a bracelet.
‘Saxon?’ suggested David.
‘No, Roman,’ Janet said. ‘But it’s from the same place as the other stuff. The little boy and his Dad were so excited! I asked if I could go and see the site.’
‘What did the farmer say?’
‘Oh, I was very welcome. If I’d wait a week or two, he said I’d have some company.’
‘What did he mean?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. When I asked hi
m, he just grinned at me. Anyway, I’m going to tea on Monday.’
‘I wonder what you’ll find?’
‘I doubt if I’ll find anything,’ said Janet. ‘It’s not as if he’s digging up loads of gold and silver coins – which, if he had any sense, he’d probably have disposed of privately. He said he was a tenant, so anything not treasure trove would be his landlord’s property, and not his little boy’s.’
‘Let us know what happens,’ said Susannah.
‘Yeah, I shall,’ said Janet. ‘Or why don’t you come with me?’
‘She hasn’t got time,’ said David, quickly.
‘Rubbish.’ Janet grinned. ‘You’re afraid I’ll tell her about you.’
* * * *
Janet was back in the library some days later, in her usual uniform of jeans and a cotton shirt. ‘Where’s David?’ she enquired.
‘Gone to see Francis Parker,’ said Susannah.
‘Why doesn’t he move into Dereham Place? Yeah, I’d love some coffee.’
They went into the kitchen. ‘How did you get on at the farm?’ Susannah asked, as she spooned instant coffee into mugs.
‘It was a total waste of time. I had tea with the rustics, then we all trooped down to where the boy had found the stuff. Or where he thinks he found it, anyway.’
‘So where was that?’
‘In a bean field. But next to it was a pit the local council’s got for land-fill. God, it stank.’
‘D’you think the finds came from the rubbish dump?’
‘I’m almost sure they did.’
‘Where is this farm?’
‘Just outside a village called Little Wellington. No, hang about, it’s Wellesley. There’s a whole bunch of them. Wellesley Spring, Great Wellesley, Stoke Wellesley on the far side of the river – ‘
But is in English Weolinsleah.
The room seemed to grow dark. Susannah felt something indefinable crawling up her spine, and a ghostly breath ruffled her hair. ‘Janet, do you remember that piece of manuscript we found?’ she asked, excitedly. ‘It was in an eighteenth century binding – ‘
‘What about it?’
‘It talked about a place called Weolinsleah. I wonder if that’s the Anglo-Saxon form of Wellesley?’
‘It’s possible, I suppose. Okay, there are several Wellesleys near here. But there are some in Worcestershire and Herefordshire, as well.’ Janet looked up and met Susannah’s gaze. ‘You never came to the Lamb with us that night.’
‘I’d only just arrived in Marbury, and I was tired.’ Apologetically, Susannah shrugged. ‘But I’ll come another time, if I’m invited?’
‘I’m going out with some friends tomorrow evening, to a pub near Brompton Lacey – I’ll give you directions.’ Janet frowned. ‘Susannah, are you all right? You’re very pale.’
‘I’m fine.’ Susannah forced a smile. ‘It’s just a bit close in here.’
* * * *
Susannah drove to Brompton Lacey, coaxing poor Jemima up ever steeper gradients until she reached a tiny village on a limestone bluff.
‘Here she is at last,’ said Janet, as Susannah walked into the bar. ‘Got lost, didn’t you?’
‘Sort of,’ Susannah admitted.
‘Come and meet the mob – Simon, Mike and Anna.’
‘So what do you do?’ Simon asked Susannah, after he’d fetched her a glass of golden bitter.
‘She’s a scholar,’ Janet told him. ‘Last summer, she got the best degree her college has ever given. Dave Linton told me all about it. No, don’t go all red! You should be proud.’
‘Congratulations.’ Simon grinned. ‘How do you get on with David?’
‘Fine – he’s very nice.’
‘Have you met Francis yet?’
‘No.’ Susannah shrugged. ‘But David’s always going to see him.’
‘You’ll be summoned one day,’ Simon said. ‘I’m sure he’ll – ‘
‘Simon, you’re so bloody boring,’ interrupted Janet, testily. ‘He can’t help being so tedious,’ she said. ‘He is an accountant, after all.’
‘An accountant’s teaboy. I haven’t managed to pass all my exams yet,’ Simon murmured to Susannah.
‘I’ll marry you when you qualify,’ said Janet.
‘But I always wanted to be a pilot,’ said Simon, wistfully.
‘Well, you are! At any rate, you’ve got your little egg-whisk.’ Mike winked at Susannah. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let this idiot take you up in that.’
‘It flaps its wings,’ said Janet.
‘It’s held together with parcel tape,’ grinned Mike.
‘Don’t be so rude about my lovely Falcon Sunbeam!’ Simon cried. ‘She’s a small two-seater,’ he told Susannah. ‘She lives at Wellesley aerodrome. I go up most weekends, and Jan’s flown with me loads of times. She really loves it, don’t you?’
‘Yes, it’s fun,’ said Janet.
‘So if you ever fancy it…’
‘I’d love to try it sometime,’ said Susannah. She picked up Simon’s empty glass. ‘Who else needs a refill? Come on, Jan, drink up.’
* * * *
David cleaned the manuscript, but the vellum was so damaged that most of the text remained illegible. All Susannah managed to add to what she’d found already was a reference to our people the forest-dwellers, who understand all woodcraft better than any man.
One Friday lunchtime, Simon rang. ‘We met at the Drover’s Arms,’ he said. ‘Remember?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Susannah said. ‘So how are things with you?’
‘Well, to be honest, everything’s pretty foul. I have an exam on Monday morning, and I have to pass it. Otherwise I’ll be out.’
‘Good luck, then.’
‘Thanks, I’ll damn well need it. Susannah, what are you doing this weekend?’
‘Oh, nothing much. But I – ‘
‘Come for a ride, then? You’ll love it, honestly. I’m going up for an hour this evening, Janet’s coming – ‘
‘But I thought your plane was just for two?’
‘She can easily carry you and Jan. The pair of you together can’t weigh as much as Mike.’
‘Okay then,’ said Susannah.
‘Great,’ said Simon. ‘I’ll see you after work, and don’t be late. We need to make the most of the light, you see.’
* * * *
The plane looked so impossibly old and tatty, so screwed and glued together, that Susannah wondered how it could ever fly. ‘It will carry three of us?’ she murmured.
‘No problem!’ Simon, looking like Biggles in his leather helmet and ancient goggles, grinned encouragingly. ‘Do you want to borrow my spare jacket? It gets cold up there.’
‘Come on then, you guys.’ Janet put on her helmet. ‘Suke, you’re looking sick already – want to chicken out?’
‘No,’ Susannah lied.
The take-off scared her half to death. The Falcon rattled, shook and juddered. A horrible smell of fuel filled the cockpit. The fuselage creaked, and all the needles spun out of control.
They climbed towards the setting sun and then began to cruise. The houses thinned. The trees cast long, black shadows on the fields.
‘I was over here last week,’ said Janet. ‘I went to see a site. But as it turned out, there was no site. Look, Susannah, there’s the land-fill.’
‘But it’s huge!’ Susannah stared, amazed.
‘Disgusting, isn’t it? Marbury County Council must be importing rubbish from Japan.’ Janet turned to look the other way.
Suddenly she grabbed at Simon’s arm. ‘My God!’ she cried. ‘Oh, Jesus Christ! Look over there!’
‘What the hell?’ A terrifying minute later, which seemed more like an hour to Susannah, Simon managed to right the plane again. ‘Jan, you stupid cow!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t ever grab my arm like that again! What do you think you’re playing at, you fool?’
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ Janet sounded like an over-excited toddler, at a birthday treat. ‘But next to the land-fill,
look! You can see it, surely? Oh, don’t go that way, Simon!’
‘Calm down, Jan!’ cried Simon, his words whipped by the wind. ‘I’ll bring her round, then we’ll go across the dump again.’
‘What is it?’ asked Susannah, fearfully. Squashed against the fragile fuselage of the little plane, being jabbed in the ribs by Janet’s elbow, she felt very sick. ‘W-what have you seen?’
‘Crop marks!’ Janet shouted. ‘In the bean field!’
‘But what – I mean, where are they?’
‘Over to your right, near those tall trees. If you look straight down, you’ll see rows of beans in which some plants are shorter than the others. Look at the shadows. You can just make out – ‘
‘I can’t hear you!’
‘It’s a building!’ Janet shrieked. ‘Down there, in the bean field, there must be the buried traces of a building! Or of dry stone walls!’
‘But how – ‘
‘Where the plants are shorter, the ground must be less fertile, and much drier. Simon,’ Janet shouted, ‘darling Simon, can we go over once again? I need to check, you see.’
With a sickening lurch, the plane spun round. Susannah shut her eyes. She knew she was going to die.
* * * *
When they had landed safely on the runway, Janet threw her arms round Simon’s neck, kissing him with such fervour that Susannah shut her eyes again.
‘Well, that was very nice,’ he said, and grinned at Janet sheepishly. ‘But I still don’t know what you saw up there. Susannah, are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Janet, laughing. ‘Poor Suke, your face is green.’
‘I’d like to get out, I think.’
Simon undid Susannah’s straps and buckles. ‘You were very brave,’ he said.
‘I nearly died of fright.’
‘Everybody’s scared on their first trip. But next time, you’ll enjoy it.’
‘Right.’ Susannah turned to Janet. ‘Now tell me what you were squawking about up there.’
‘Where the soil is thinner,’ said Janet, ‘where there are buried rocks or man-made walls, there’s always low fertility. In a field of crops, any consistent differences in height are obvious from the air, especially in the evening, when there are longer shadows. Oh, why did I leave my camera in the office? Simon, darling?’
Elegy for a Queen Page 3