King Richard's Bones

by Elizabeth Aston

  “So where have I come from?”

  “You exist in my mind and nowhere else, or else you’re a real person with delusions of grandeur and a bunch of magic tricks.”

  Chapter 5

  Nettled by his meeting with the Controller, the Director went back to his office, along endlessly curving corridors, with door after door, other passageways branching off, stairways leading up and down to more and more levels and doors.

  He knew that his staff would have been talking about the break-out in his absence and he glowered at them as he came in.

  One of them whispered to another, “You can see he got it in the neck from the Controller.”

  “It’s hardly surprising,”

  “Get me Richard’s Case Worker,” he snapped, and one of the assistants rose and scampered off into the corridor.

  He tried to call her back, because there were easier ways of contacting the Case Worker than actually going and finding him, but it was too late.

  The Case Worker was finally located in a distant part of the Department, moodily surveying a model of the universe.

  “What is it?” he said as the assistant came in.

  She said cheerfully, “We’ve had a breakout. One of yours.”

  “What do you mean one of mine? I only have one.”

  “Well, you’ve let him get away. The Controller isn’t pleased and she’s had a go at our Director, and he has to do something about it.”

  “What’s all this let? I’ve done my duty by him, I looked after him when he was on Earth, and I directed him to the right place afterwards. And I daresay I will see him on his way in due course. I take no responsibility for anything that happens to him while he’s here, it’s simply not my affair any more.”

  “The Director wants to see you.”

  “Tell him I’ve nothing to say to him.”

  The Director wasn’t going to like that, she said to herself as she took her time to go back and report.

  “Do you want me to look through his files, see if there’s anything helpful? I mean, as to why he’s gone AWOL?” she asked.

  “I know exactly why he’s gone, and so do you. It’s those wretched bones. Still, I’ll have to make a plan, do a report and so on. We have to find him; what a nuisance he is.”

  The files were brought, buff folders recounting every detail of the life of King Richard III with meticulous reports on all the incidents since then.

  “It really is time we had all this computerised,” the assistant said brightly. “They’ve done all the records over at Legal and Claims.”

  “I’ve put in a request, but it seems Section 16c is bottom of the list for all the updates.”

  The Director knew what he was going to have to do, but he put off the evil moment as long as he could, riffling through the pages of the files as though Richard’s time with his brother in the Low Countries or his friendship with Caxton would yield any clues about his whereabouts. In the end he gave a long sigh, shut the last of the folders and pushed them to the edge of his desk, where only the timely intervention of one of the assistants saved them from sliding in chaos to the floor.

  “We’ll have to bring in the Watchers,” the Director finally announced. “The Case Worker is strictly correct, but I think he’s been disobliging in this instance. It’s very shallow of him to just disclaim all responsibility like that. Get on to Directorate Security, and tell them we need help. And don’t let them send any of their deadbeats either, I want people who can do a good job swiftly and efficiently. We’ve got to get the king back here as quickly as possible.”

  It took a while for the Watchers to arrive in his office. He looked at them with dismay. He knew all about these two. They had been assigned to this Section because they caused upheaval wherever they went everywhere else. Rebels, the pair of them.

  “No,” he said, “not you two. Go back and tell them to send me somebody else.”

  The first Watcher said laconically, “No can do, we’re what you asked for, we’re what you’ve got. What’s the brief?”

  “I will not put up with this. I want Watchers who can do me a decent job, not cause even more problems.”

  “We’re the only ones in the Section who are qualified and available for early twenty-first century work. It’s a busy time on Earth right now. It’s us or no one.”

  If the Case Worker weren’t so disobliging, the Director could have sent him out, But, despite his name, he was a much higher rank than the Director and moreover his union was a strong one and all too supportive of its members. He sighed. “I suppose you’ll have to do. Why are you dressed in those ridiculous outfits?”

  “We’re just back from the Cannes film festival. We have to fit in. Out with it, who’s our quarry?”

  “Quarry! That kind of careless talk is what gets you two on the black list. Richard of Gloucester, King Richard III, is out and we’ve lost him. His tag doesn’t seem to be functioning, so we don’t know where he is.”

  The Watcher whistled. “Him again? We did a case study on him. He’s trouble when he gets out. And no tag? Well, well. ”

  The second Watcher, eyes cold behind blue-tinted glasses, said, “Some people reckoned he was trouble when he was alive.”

  Chapter 6

  Sam wasn’t exactly lying when he said he didn’t believe in ghosts, only it wasn’t the truth either. He had grown out of any such childish fancies, but when he was a small boy he had believed in ghosts. One summer, he’d gone to stay on a farm, deep in the country, with his brother and his parents. His brother had hay fever and had to stay indoors, sleepy from the antihistamines. His parents liked to go for long walks, leaving him in the care of the farmer’s wife. Free to play around the farm, he was lonely at first, but then he met another boy of about his own age, who told him his name was Roger. He was rather strange, but Sam liked him. They’d wandered the fields together, and the boy told him a lot of things about the animals on the farm. He introduced him to each of the cows and showed him how each one had her own personality. He told him the names of grasses and flowers and birds; Sam was astonished how much he knew. He asked him. “Did you learn all this at school?” The boy laughed. “Oh, I don’t go to school.”

  Even while he was enjoying the company of his new friend, Sam had a feeling there was something odd about him. On his last day, when his parents had taken themselves for a final long hike, the farmer’s wife asked him if he’d been lonely. “I feel bad, because it’s such a busy time of year, and you’ve been left on your own so much.”

  He told her he’d been fine. “I met a boy called Roger, and we did things together every day.”

  The farmer’s wife smiled and said, “You must be an old soul if you met Roger.”

  Sam wasn’t interested in old souls, whatever they were. “Where does Roger live?

  “That’s a good question, but not one I can answer. That boy’s not of our time; he’s been around this farm for two or three hundred years, so folk say.”

  Sam stared at her and she laughed at his astonishment. “No, I’m not crazy. Roger’s a ghost. He lived on the farm long ago, and was killed as a boy. Some kind of accident, they say, and he’s been here ever since. If he takes a liking to a youngster like he has to you, he shows himself and comes out to play. Adults never see him, but I did when I was a girl.”

  Her voice was calm and she said these extraordinary things as if they were completely everyday and normal. Sam had gone home with his family, and the memory of his summer playmate had faded and become nothing more than an embarrassing memory as the years passed - how gullible one was as a child.

  Chapter 7

  Now Roger came vividly into Sam’s mind. There was something of the same quality about this man standing here. He was hardly a playmate; no way could Sam imagined himself dancing across the fields in his company. This was not a man you’d get familiar with.

 
“So what would it take to convince you that I am who I say I am?

  Sam said “I reckon you’re all in my mind, I think you’re a projection or a hallucination. If someone else could see you then that couldn’t be the case, could it?”

  “As simple as that? You don’t trust your own mind and want your judgements confirmed? ‘Eyes have they, but see not’.”

  “And don’t quote the Psalms at me, for heaven’s sake. It’s the difference between being crazy or sane, if I see someone who isn’t there.”

  “Will anyone else be here at this time?”

  “The cleaners start early.”

  “Do you know them?”

  Sam shrugged. “A firm does the cleaning. It isn’t always the same people, but I do know one or two of them, yes.”

  “Can you leave your station here?”

  Sam said, somewhat guiltily, “I should have done that, instead of being here talking to you. I’m supposed to do my rounds every couple of hours or so, check everything is all right.”

  “Make a tour of duty now, let’s see if these cleaners are here.”

  Sam took his torch and his keys and opened the door. A ghost would hardly need doors opening for him, couldn’t he just flit? But manners were manners, so he stood back to let the man through.

  “I only have the codes to some doors,” he explained as he entered a number to open the door of the main building. A whirring noise sounded in the distance. “It sounds as if the cleaners are already at work,” he said, leading the way down the long corridor. Sam stopped at every door to make sure were locked. “There’s a CCTV camera trained on us now,” Sam said. “I suppose you won’t show up on it?”

  “No.”

  Sam sighed. If they viewed the footage, they’d think he was talking to himself.

  Chapter 8

  They reached the end of the corridor and took a left turn. The whirring sounds had grown louder, and there was a tall, wiry woman vigorously polishing the floor. She saw Sam, smiled and switched off the machine

  She was one of the cleaners Sam knew. “Hi, Lucy,” he said. “How’s life?”

  “Could be worse, could be I had a job that started at three in the morning instead of four. Who’s your friend?”

  Sam became wary. “My friend?”

  “Yeah, the guy standing behind you in the natty suiting. The one with the soulful eyes. She looked straight at Richard and said “Hi, mate, how you doing? She put out a hand. “I’m Lucy.”

  “Good morning. My name is Richard.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ricky.”

  Sam said, “You can see him?”

  Lucy gave him an odd look. “What are you talking about Sam? You daft? Why shouldn’t I see your mate? Mind you, they mightn’t like you having a friend in while you’re on duty, they’re particular about that kind of thing. Hope you got permission.”

  “Not exactly.” Sam said.

  “I won’t tell on you. Come past again in about half an hour when I’ll be brewing a cuppa. Can’t stop now, I’ve got to get on.” With that she gave them both a big smile, and switched on her machine again.

  “Satisfied?” said Richard. “Now you can help me take my bones.”

  “You want me, a trusted guard and a copper’s son, to go pinching irreplaceable historical relics that are probably worth a king’s ransom? Oops, sorry, that just slipped out.”

  “Who do you think the bones belong to? Leicester? The university? The Church? Wrong. They’re mine.”

  Sam was tempted to say, finders keepers, but somehow he didn’t feel like joking. A nasty thought had occurred to him. This guy might not be Richard. He might be the kind of malevolent spirit who came back to deceive and lead people astray.

  “If I steal – all right, remove – those bones on your behalf, then I’m going to get caught. In which case, I’ll going to be in a heap of trouble and end up in court and probably in jail.”

  “I can see that might be a problem,” Richard said. “We shall have to arrange it in such a way the blame doesn’t fall on you. I can certainly make sure that none of these recording devices show you entering and taking the bones. Let me see–”

  Sam said, “I can hear a motorbike. I need to get back to my cabin. There aren’t usually people around at this time of the morning on bikes.”

  He hurried back down the corridor, out through the main doors and back into his cabin as the throb of a powerful bike got louder and louder. Motion-triggered floodlights illuminated the area and the camera swung round to pick up the intruders. Two leather clad figures on a bike, helmeted and eyes shielded by dark goggles. Sam didn’t like the look of them at all. He turned to say to Richard that they might have trouble here, but Richard wasn’t there.

  Sam felt a flash of hope that maybe he’d gone for good, but he didn’t have time to think about that now. He needed to deal with these bikers. He switched himself through to the main security centre and reported the bikers.

  A bored voice at the other end said, “Probably just lost their way. Let us know if you have any trouble.”

  Very helpful. The two had parked the bike and got off. Judging by their respective sizes and shapes, a girl had been driving the bike with a guy on the pillion. Better than two tough guys? He doubted it, because both these types looked as though they meant business.

  His heart thudded as they came up to the security cabin and rattled the handle of the door, followed by a few loud knocks. What the hell could he do? Were they actually a threat, or merely asking the way to the nearest open coffee place? Just as he’d been relieved when Richard vanished, he now felt thankful as the now familiar figure appeared outside the cabin. He looked at the screen. No, it didn’t show Richard, it looked as though the two people on the bike were talking to thin air. But that must mean that they, too, could see him. Who were they?

  Chapter 9

  Felix and Lyra looked at Richard and Richard looked at them. “I assume you’re from the Department,” he said.

  “We are. We’re here to take you back, you really shouldn’t be here, sir.”

  “You don’t have the authority to take me back.”

  “As you know, you’re under Cassiel’s special protection and so–”

  “And so you’ve followed me to Earth to make sure I don’t come to any harm. For my own good, in fact. Is that all?”

  “Not quite all,” Lyra said. “We know why you’re here, and the Director isn’t pleased, he isn’t at all pleased. Nor is the Controller. The action you’re planning to take will have repercussions.” She spoke with a sinuous hiss that made ‘repercussions’ sound sinister and dangerous.

  Richard knew what she was talking about. There were all kinds of rules about entering the fabric of time and doing anything that changed history. A fig for that. “I came to look at my bones. To check what condition they’re in, see if they’re going to be properly looked after.”

  “With all due courtesy, sir, I’m not sure that we can believe you. Our briefing is that you intend to remove the bones, and this won’t be permitted.”

  “It’s taken you a while to track me down.”

  Lyra said, “Your tag was deactivated.”

  Felix said, “We need to know whether you have made yourself visible to any mortals.”

  “I haven’t been here long. In the parlance you’ll have learned on your courses, I’m casing the joint.”

  “This isn’t the time for frivolity, sir, and, as I said, we’re not sure we can believe you.”

  Richard said, “Your belief or disbelief in anything I say or do is a matter of complete indifference to me.”

  “It isn’t a matter of indifference to us.”

  “I haven’t seen my bones, although I intend to do so. I should like to be reacquainted with my skeleton. After all, the rest of the world can gawp at it.”

  Lyra agreed. “Tha
t is distasteful.”

  “Distasteful?” Richard said. “There’s a neat word. Distasteful.”

  Felix went on. “Our understanding is that pressure will be brought by the Directorate to make sure that you have a seemly burial, in a suitable place. It’s all arranged by the authorities here, there’s nothing about the proposed ceremony that particularly disturbs the Department. It isn’t ideal, and they understand your scruples, but they are responsible for England in the present day and age. People today can’t be expected to comply with the sensibilities of five centuries ago.”

  “If you say so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I propose to take a stroll around Leicester, so I’ll take my leave of you.”

  “Not so quick, sir, we really must request you in the strongest possible terms to give up this vain quest of yours and to return to the Unruly Spirits immediately. Your case will be listened to with sympathy and consideration.”

  “By the Director, with his Tudor enthusiasm and his fingers in his ears?”

  “You can always appeal to Cassiel.”

  “As if every effort won’t be made to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Richard knew all about bureaucracy and its wilful obstructions. With that he dematerialised, reappeared again further down the street and set off at a brisk pace.

  Felix and Lyra leapt back on their bike, Lyra kicked it into life and they roared after him.

  Richard turned down a one way street and then cut through a pedestrian area. Easy enough to lose the Watchers since he could go wherever he wanted, visibly or invisibly, and they were bound by mortal rules and traffic regulations. Much more satisfying to lead them astray. They caught up with him and he made pleasant conversation, pointing out things that caught his eye as he walked through the dark and silent streets. An early bus rumbled past and a couple of cars, but nobody took any notice of the motorcycle crawling along the pedestrian pathway.