by D. R. Martin
Everyone sat around an oval, mahogany coffee table near the fireplace. Dame Honoria asked all sorts of questions about the zombie attack, and the subsequent interrogation at the police station. Just then, Rex Ward arrived, and briefed everyone about the situation at the Home Office.
“The government’s been working full speed, trying to control things up north, and keeping the bad news from leaking out. Communications are still difficult, and transportation minimal. Because of the troubles and that blasted fog, there is still no way for Master Graphic and Miss Bain to travel in that direction. Honoria, I understand that you have explored other channels.”
Dame Honoria nodded. “Still exploring, I’m afraid.”
“In that case, I have another item of business to discuss,” Rex said. “I’ve received a request from a friend in the Royal Marines. There is some need, apparently, for flying boat mechanics. Aircraft are being readied for missions up to the beaches of MacFreithshire. And I believe that Mr. Hofstedter is qualified to repair them. Is there any chance that Master Graphic and Miss Bain can undertake their efforts without him? I’m sure they’ll be very well looked after by Colonel MacFarlane and his boys.”
When he was told what the ghost had said, Uncle Louie reacted exactly as Johnny had expected.
“Well, that’s very flattering,” the big man said. “But I’m Johnny’s uncle and Nina’s guardian, and I’m not sure I ought to be running off right after they’ve been attacked.”
But Johnny could tell his uncle was excited by the prospect. Since he didn’t have etheric vision, Uncle Louie sometimes felt that he was useless when it came to battling miscreant spooks. This job sounded like a chance for him to really do some good.
“You know, Uncle Louie, it sounds like they need you,” Johnny said. “Nina and I will be okay. I mean, with the colonel and half the brigade along, what could possibly happen to us?”
Mel nodded and gave her uncle an encouraging look. “They’ll be just fine. Remember, Sir Colin said that their escort would also be a bodyguard.”
Johnny figured the Home Office would hire someone who was pretty rough and tough. Like one of those muscular rugby players he’d seen in the newsreels. A guy like that could certainly handle a zombie or two.
“Well,” Uncle Louie said hesitantly, “I feel like I should be there with you. But I think Rex is right. The colonel will take good care of you kids, better care than I can. So I’d be happy to help get those aeroboats in flying shape. But if I hear about any trouble, I’m coming back pronto.”
Just then, Johnny’s stomach rumbled again.
Dame Honoria eyed him and smiled. “I think the next item of business is lunch.”
Chapter 8
Johnny and Nina spent the afternoon wandering around Dame Honoria’s estate and the surrounding countryside. One of the colonel’s ghost troopers stood guard as Johnny took pictures for a photo essay on country life in Gilbeyshire. Wearing her etheric goggles, Nina was quite the center of attention when they visited the nearby village of Blackfield. A few of the merchants in the town wondered where they might buy a pair of the odd spectacles, as they would love to see their dead wife or grandfather. Even the ghosts were fascinated, especially those of a scientific bent.
Johnny enjoyed the visit to Blackfield, but had one troubling moment when they emerged from a teashop. Across the street in front of a grocery store, a little man was walking along. And to Johnny, he looked an awful lot like someone he had met back in Zenith a couple months ago.
Johnny had little doubt that it was Ozzie Eccleston, Dame Honoria’s old ghost servant, now ensconced in a Rotonesian zombie body. At the end of last year it had been Ozzie who had delivered the etheric bomb ultimatum to the city of Zenith. In addition, he had sponged a couple of lunches off Johnny. He was a real bum, that guy.
Nina started to talk to Johnny, but he shushed her. “Look over there. It’s Ozzie Eccleston, probably come to spy on us.”
A grin slowly spread across Nina’s face. “So why don’t we turn the tables and go do a little spying on him?”
They didn’t have to go very far to do their surveillance, because Ozzie had quickly nipped into one of the town’s pubs, The Laughing Fox. Johnny peeked through the open door for a few seconds, then slipped back out onto the sidewalk.
“He’s already bellied up to the bar and he’s slurping on a big pint of beer,” Johnny whispered to Nina. “It looks like a couple people in there have picked up on his weird, musty smell. They were moving away from him. We’d better let Dame Honoria know who we saw.”
Back in the library at Wickenham, half an hour later, they did just that.
Dame Honoria shot them both a wily smile. “Thank you for this bit of intelligence. You needn’t worry about Ozzie. I shall take it from here. I aim to have a little fun with my former employee.”
* * *
Mel and Dame Honoria had already started going through Percy’s archive of books and papers, all from the boxes that he had left in his chambers and in the attic. Assisting them was Percy’s old tutor, Athelstan DeNimes, now a retired professor.
“Athelstan has offered to look into the matter of the bog zombies,” Dame Honoria explained.
The professor nodded enthusiastically. “We need to understand how Percy has been able to reanimate such ancient corpses. Normally, unless they’re properly cared for, these bog bodies quickly dry up and shrink when they’re exposed to air. And the bones are very fragile, having been decalcified.”
“What does that mean, ‘decalcified’?” Nina asked.
“It means the calcium has leached out of them, leaving them very porous. Percy has managed something remarkable, giving these ancient bodies enough strength and substance to function as warriors. My theory is that the ghost possession of these corpses somehow gives them vigor and power.”
The old teacher was small and wiry, with white hair. He wore an old-fashioned gray suit and an overly large pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. The thick lenses magnified his watery blue eyes and made him look like some kind of strange tropical fish.
“Percy had quite a curious mind, you know,” Professor DeNimes told Johnny and Nina. “I recall his interest in the bog men years ago. He followed the news avidly whenever they dug one up. I think he liked to imagine what it might have been like to live in the ancient past.”
Nina looked puzzled. “Why would anyone want to go back in time? They didn’t have any of the modern conveniences back then. I sure wouldn’t want to give up my ham radio set.”
“I don’t know,” the professor answered, lowering his voice so Dame Honoria couldn’t hear him. “Percy just never seemed quite that comfortable living in the present. I do wonder if I could have been a better mentor for him.”
Johnny found the professor’s insights into Percy very revealing. He wondered if the teachers back at Grover Falkland Junior High had given that much thought to Johnny’s behavior, and to his decision to test out of school early. Maybe one of them felt like a failure for not persuading him to stay in school until he graduated at the usual age.
Just then the phone on Dame Honoria’s desk rang. She picked it up, said hello, and listened. Whoever it was did all the talking.
Meanwhile the professor continued his observations about Dame Honoria’s son. “The key to Percy’s actions, I believe, lies in his overweening sense of righteousness.”
“Overweening?” Johnny repeated.
“It means overbearing and arrogant, my young friend. His truths are greater than any others. His causes are the worthiest of all. He is justified in doing anything to achieve the ends he desires.”
“Was he like that when he was a kid?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. He was prickly and difficult to teach. He had few real friends. You had the feeling that he loved humanity, but couldn’t stand people. As you know, his father died at a young age. His mother was off most of the time, fighting for her cause.”
“The vote for women.”
“Got it in one.�
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“I can’t believe women couldn’t vote when Dame Honoria was younger,” Nina piped up. “In just nine years, I’ll be able to vote, and no one better try to stop me!”
At that moment Dame Honoria said goodbye to her caller, and looked up at everyone, wearing a huge smile.
“You seem unusually happy, Honoria,” the professor said.
Dame Honoria beamed. “Very perceptive, Athelstan. I have a little surprise for everyone. Tomorrow we’re going on a picnic. And then we’re visiting an old friend of mine.”
A picnic? Johnny thought. It was hardly the time of year to be eating outdoors. And weren’t there more important matters to attend to—like fighting zombies?
But Dame Honoria was their hostess. She called the shots.
Chapter 9
Thursday, January 30, 1936
Gilbeyshire
They were on the road for an hour and a half the next morning, before the chauffeur finally turned the car up a narrow country lane that curved through an orchard of apple trees. They ended up by the grassy banks of a burbling stream, beneath some leafless willows. The air was crisp, but everyone had on warm clothes and didn’t mind plopping down on heavy woolen blankets by the water.
Bao and Evvie had been riding up front with the chauffeur and joined them—though, of course, unable to eat anything.
Johnny could hardly believe the picnic that Dame Honoria’s cook had laid out for them. The best restaurant in Zenith would have a hard time topping it. First, there was potato and leek soup, which had been kept warm in a big vacuum flask. Then came what Johnny thought was a piece of pie—but inside the crust was a mixture of pork, carrots, celery, and onions, all held together by some kind of jelly. Bread and cheese. Some grapes and fresh slices of apple. Then came the sweets: brownies, éclairs, and a gingerbread cake with a dollop of lemon curd on top of it. Another vacuum flask contained hot cocoa, which Johnny and Nina drank. Mel, Uncle Louie, and Dame Honoria opted for some hot tea.
Half an hour later, stuffed to the gills, Johnny asked if there was time to amble downstream and talk to the man who was fishing there. Dame Honoria said that was fine, just don’t take too long. The man, in tweed jacket and waders, turned out to be a brigadier general who was on leave from the Royal Army after being wounded in an action in one of the desert realms. He was quite happy to let Johnny take some photos of his fly-fishing technique.
“It’s Brigadier John Stafferton, spelled S-t-a-f-f-e-r-t-o-n,” the lanky man with hawkish features said when Johnny asked for his name. “As I explained, currently on leave, recovering from wounds. Though I may be reactivated soon.”
Johnny wasn’t sure what to say. “Is that good or bad?”
“Oh, good. Very good. Life’s been rather boring these last few months.”
“Where’s your assignment?”
“Sorry. Can’t say, young man. Top secret, don’t you know. And by the by, who is the officer standing behind you? I should enjoy an introduction.”
Johnny hadn’t realized that Colonel MacFarlane had walked up behind him. Obviously the brigadier had etheric vision. Johnny introduced the two and they hit it off immediately. The brigadier, it turned out, had made a study of the First Border War, and was particularly interested in the Battle of Digsby’s Run, where the colonel had died. He invited Johnny and the dead cavalryman back to visit anytime.
After the picnic, they drove another half hour, ending up at a grand country estate. The place even had uniformed guards stationed here and there. After telling the others to stay in the limousine, Dame Honoria got out and made immediately for the sprawling pile of limestone that was clearly the estate’s main house. A trim, middle-aged man in a crisp dark suit came down the staircase, striding straight for Dame Honoria. They talked for a moment, then came over to the long, black automobile.
“All right then,” Dame Honoria said. “Come along this way.”
Johnny was surprised that they didn’t go into the big house, but instead proceeded through some stables and past a large barn. Whoever lived here had a lot of horses and a lot of laborers, all looking quite busy.
Finally, they came to an old greenhouse, with many of its windows purposely soaped over to diffuse the sunlight. The man in the dark suit knocked at the door, and a muffled “Yes, come in” emerged from inside. Their guide opened the door and gestured for them to enter. They all filed in, followed by the colonel, Bao, and Evvie.
Johnny was dying of curiosity. Who was it they were dropping in on? Dame Honoria had been perfectly mum.
Inside was a place of dazzling beauty, packed every which way with tables full of gorgeous orchids. Hundreds and hundreds of them in all the colors of the rainbow. Johnny had never seen anything like it, even at the Zenith Botanical Garden. It was warm and humid, and smelled of damp, rich earth.
There was a small, slender gardener working at one of the tables, his back turned to the new arrivals. Except for a fringe of brownish hair, he was bald, and his ears stuck out a bit. He had on a blue, knee-length workman’s coat. Putting down the water-misting bottle he had been using on an orchid, he turned around. “Yes, Oates?”
Almost instantly, Johnny recognized the man’s face. But from where?
All of a sudden, a lightbulb went on over Johnny’s head.
He’d seen that face.
On every royal banknote that he had in his wallet.
On every coin that jingled in his pocket.
It was King Robert!
“Your Majesty,” the man in the dark suit said, with a slight bow. “Dame Honoria Gorton Rathbone and her friends.”
“Your Majesty,” Dame Honoria echoed, making a small, arthritic curtsy.
“Hello, Honoria,” the king said. “So good to see you.”
“And you, too, Your Majesty,” Dame Honoria replied. “Let me introduce my companions. First, Miss Melanie Graphic.”
Mel made her own curtsy. Not a very smooth one, Johnny thought. But Nina did hers like an old pro. And Uncle Louie bowed deeply from the waist, having removed his hat.
So when Dame Honoria said, “And this is John Joshua Graphic, my godson,” Johnny knew just what to do. He put his right hand on his stomach, his left hand behind his back, and bowed.
The king smiled at them all and said, “Hello. Pleased to meet you. I have read all about your adventures.”
He then invited them over to a glass-topped table surrounded by a few metal lawn chairs. He gestured that everyone should be seated.
“Tea and crumpets will arrive shortly,” he said, taking off the gardening gloves he was wearing. “Now I understand that you have some transportation problems.”
“Regrettably, the fog up north has brought traffic to a virtual standstill,” Dame Honoria said. “My friends in the Home Office and the Special Ghost Service asked me to speak to you on their behalf. They desperately need to get troops and agents on the hunt for all these poor, kidnapped children. As I discussed with your aide the other day…”
The king put up his hand. “Say no more, Honoria. I’ve already authorized the use of Old Sal for these operations. It’s no trouble at all.”
Johnny figured that Old Sal must be some kind of train, because it sure didn’t sound like a flying boat. But he wondered how it could get through, when other trains couldn’t.
“And since Johnny and Nina are here to gather intelligence in the affected counties,” Dame Honoria continued, “we would request that they be allowed to ride on Old Sal, as well. After all, they have proven themselves extremely capable in dealing with my errant son Percival, whom we believe is behind the troubles.”
“Rest assured, Honoria, I know all about their heroism out in Rotonesia and in Zenith,” the king said. “They saved that great city from utter destruction, did they not?”
Johnny was shocked. “But no one’s supposed to know about that.”
Dame Honoria looked slightly appalled at Johnny’s outburst. But the king merely chuckled.
“We kings have ways of findin
g things out, Johnny,” the monarch said. “Even very secret things. It’s part of our job.”
Just then, two servants arrived with pots of tea and plates of toasted crumpets with strawberry preserves.
As they all sipped their tea, it came out that the king and Dame Honoria had known each other since they were children. The king’s younger sister had gone to school with Dame Honoria and had been a fellow suffragist back in the teens.
“You know, Honoria, I remember being so jealous of your etheric vision when we were younger,” the king recalled. “And I still am. I have Oates here, who can see and hear specters. I call him my ‘ghost eyes.’ But I believe I’d almost trade my crown for a chance to see real ghosts.”
Johnny suddenly had an idea. He glanced at Mel, who nodded. They both turned to Nina, who looked giddy with excitement.
“But you can, Your Majesty!” Nina exclaimed. She pulled open the top of her shoulder bag and extracted the etheric goggles, flipping a little switch on the battery pack. “Now these won’t fit you, Your Majesty, but just hold them up to your eyes.”
Looking skeptical, the king took the peculiar eyewear and did as instructed. A grin began to spread across his face.
“Good heavens!” he declared. “Who is this fine looking military man?”
“Colonel Horace MacFarlane, Your Majesty,” said Dame Honoria. “He and his men of the First Zenith Cavalry Brigade were absolutely vital in the effort to defeat Percival last year.”
The colonel snapped to attention and made a crisp salute.
The king nodded at him. He began to peer around his orchid house. “My word. That must be Sir Winston. He was my mother’s uncle. I’m told he loves to haunt the castle.”