King Richard's Bones

by Elizabeth Aston

  Until a car with flashing lights drew up in front of the motorbike and signalled to it to stop.

  Richard watched with a sardonic smile on his face as two police officers got out and approached Felix and Lyra. Time for him to go back to Sam.

  Chapter 10

  Sam had reported back to headquarters that the bikers had only stopped for a moment, then ridden off. “So not a problem.” He slumped in his chair, hoping this was the end of his night’s worries.

  Oh, no, here was Richard back again.

  Richard said, “Did you think you were rid of me? I’m afraid not. Our unwelcome callers are at the moment being questioned by the police. They’ll be allowed to go and then they’ll be back here, as they’re trained to be persistent. We need to remove those bones and remove them quickly.”

  Sam said, “Even if you fixed the cameras so I’m not filmed taking–” he was about to say, ‘those damned bones’, but stopped himself in time– “if your bones disappear while I’m on duty, I’m going to be the prime suspect.”

  “Since you don’t have access to the bones, they’ll know you couldn’t have got in there. Let me think. Yes, this is where the Watchers can be of use to us.”

  “Watchers?”

  “Those two on the motorbike.”

  “Where do they come from?” Sam didn’t really want to know, but he felt compelled to ask. “Are they ghosts, too?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “But they aren’t real people?”

  “They aren’t mortals. Think of them as being in the same line as you are, security. They’re supposed to keep an eye on me. But, unlike me, while they’re in this Earthly realm, they have to obey the physical laws of time and place in a way that I don’t. They can’t materialise and dematerialise and they can’t travel other than by orthodox means. If they needed to get from here to, say, York, they would have to go by road or catch a train. Just like you.”

  “Couldn’t they help you get the bones?”

  Richard said, “They can’t materialise alongside the bones as I can, nor can they unlock the door without the code. On the other hand, they’re probably able to crack the code. It’s the kind of skill they learn on their training courses.”

  Sam was intrigued, “You mean like training for the SAS, or spy school?”

  “Something like that.”

  Sam said, “So if they wanted to, they could get in and help you?”

  “They aren’t here to help me, they’re here to stop me doing what I’ve come to do.”

  And to take him back to Unruly Spirits. Richard was lost in thought for a few minutes. “If I were no longer here, they’d check to see if the bones still were. They like to tick all the boxes. If they did that, they’d be caught on camera. If they’re shown on the recording entering the room where my bones are kept, that’s enough to incriminate them. They will immediately come under suspicion, especially when the authorities find out they were already questioned by the police this morning.”

  “But the CCTV won’t show them taking the bones.”

  Richard waved a dismissive hand. “Blurry footage will do the trick. The authorities’ reasoning will be: they broke in, bones are gone, they’re suspicious characters, ergo they took them. So you won’t have to worry. It’s an excellent scheme.”

  “It’s not an excellent scheme. It wouldn’t absolve me from the guilt of actually pinching the bones – which in any case I haven’t agreed to do. And the police – not to mention my security firm – would want to know how the Watchers got in when I’m supposed to be on duty to prevent that kind of thing.”

  “How long until your guard duty ends?”

  Sam looked at his watch. It was much later than he’d realised. “I knock off in about thirty minutes, but I have to do a final check before then.”

  “Right, let’s go.”

  “Hold on, just what are you planning to do with the bones? Do you think I’m going to walk out of here holding your skeleton clasped in my arms?”

  “You said your cello case didn’t contain an instrument. That will do perfectly. Quickly, there’s no time to lose.”

  Reluctantly, Sam picked up his cello case. Why was he doing this? Why didn’t he just beat it? It was those dark, compelling eyes and what he had to admit was the fairness of Richard’s case, but even so–

  Chapter 11

  Sam stood in front of the door to what he now thought of as the ossuary and heard a soft click from the lock. The door swung open.

  Richard was on the other side of the room and he beckoned to Sam. “Slide out this tray on which my bones are laid.”

  His heart thumping, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Sam laid his cello case on the floor, unclipped it and carefully, removing them gingerly one by one, laid the bones on the velvet lining.

  “Crimson,” said Richard approvingly. “A kingly colour.”

  Sam said, “When I pick it up, all the bones are going to be jumbled together.”

  “I was jumbled in the grave, so don’t worry about that. He who made me will know how to reassemble them, when the time comes.”

  Sam snapped the cello case shut and heaved it on to his shoulder, wincing at the sound of the bones rattling down inside.

  In a few seconds they were out of the door. A few seconds more, and they were leaving the building.

  “As soon as you’re back in the cabin, with the cello case propped up exactly where it was before, I’ll restore the cameras. How much time do you have?”

  This had turned out to be both the longest and shortest night of his life. Sam said, “I have to do my last round. Oh, heavens, why did you have to pick on me, why didn’t you get here some other time?”

  “Fate,” Richard said. “Divine Providence. Which you don’t believe in.”

  Chapter 12

  Sam got back to his cabin just as Jack came on duty. He was older than Sam, a lugubrious, cynical man in his forties. A poet by profession, he couldn’t make a living from writing, so he’d taken advantage of a youthful martial arts training to work as a security guard. He greeted Sam with a grunt.

  Bloodshot eyes and he’d nicked himself shaving; that meant he’d had a late and boozy night. Good, he wouldn’t be alert and observant.

  Jack gestured towards the cello case. “Been practising?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but went on, “Isn’t this your last day?”

  Sam said, “Yes.”

  “Any problems?” Jack asked, yawning and looking at the screens which showed empty passages and empty rooms. Everything in order.

  “I had a bit of an alarm earlier on, a couple of bikers turned up. I think they were just lost, but I reported it to central control about it. Who weren’t interested, but it didn’t matter as the bikers took themselves off.”

  “So you’re off back to York?”

  “Yes.” Sam shouldered the cello case, lifted a hand in farewell to Jack and left the cabin. He walked out into the street and wasn’t surprised when Richard appeared at his side.

  “I hope my bones aren’t too heavy,” he said courteously.

  Sam was light-headed from lack of sleep and bemused by the night’s activities. Here he was, walking alongside a long-dead king of England with royal bones rattling on his back when just a few hours before he’d been nothing more than a music student doing a temp job, living in a normal world, undisturbed by visitations from the beyond.

  He caught a bus to the station and as he got off, there was Richard, dapper in his suit, unconcerned by the curious stares of early morning travellers. Glamour, thought Sam. Dead five centuries, and he still commands attention. Whoever would have imagined a ghost would have charisma?

  Sam bought himself a cup of coffee and a doughnut from a stall outside the station and the motherly-looking woman who served him asked if his friend wanted anything. “Looks like he could do with feed
ing up; dreadfully pale, isn’t he? Interesting face, though. That’s two pounds ninety, love.”

  Was Richard planning to travel on the train with him? “Better not,” Sam told him. “I’m not buying you a ticket. I’ll see you in York. And be there, okay, because otherwise I’m going to tip your bones into the Ouse.”

  The train came in and Sam got on. At this time of the morning it was practically empty, so there wouldn’t be a problem with the cello case. He propped it up on the seat beside him, wrapped his arm around it and fell asleep.

  He woke up in time to change at Derby and then slept again on the train to York. Only a loud whisper in his ear from Richard woke him up in time to seize the cello case and get off the train. The guard glared at him, slammed the carriage door behind him and Sam stood on the platform in the chilly air, Richard beside him.

  “It isn’t far to the Minster, I believe,” said Richard. “I notice there are several other people with cases like yours.”

  There were indeed a lot of young people milling around, most of them carrying instruments of one kind or another. “They’re here for the Festival,” Sam said. “No, it isn’t far to the Minster, but first I need to take a leak, as we mortals have to.”

  Sam headed for the gents, the cello case once more slung over his shoulder. He could have left it with Richard to look after it, but if some passing cello thief came by, what would a ghost be able to do? And he was used to taking his cello with him everywhere.

  He propped it in the corner, where he could see it, but had his back to it while he washed his hands.

  When he turned round, the cello case had gone.

  Chapter 13

  Sam shot out, looking up and down the now deserted platform. He saw a railway official and ran towards him. “Did you see somebody going past here with a cello case? A pale grey one?”

  “You joking?” the man said. “If that’s one of those funny looking cases, I’ve seen half a dozen go past.”

  “A grey one? Just now? Mine has been stolen, while I was in the toilet.”

  The man shrugged. “Can’t help you. You’d better report it to the transport police, it’s nothing to do with me, not my job. You can’t look after your property, that’s your problem.”

  “Where’s the case?” said Richard appearing as Sam ran along the platform.

  “Some bastard nicked it, no doubt thinking it had a cello inside it. Thank God it wasn’t in the case.”

  “But my bones are.”

  “I know, I know, but my cello is my life and will be my livelihood. Your bones are – Oh, never mind. That case is brand new. My dad gave it to me for my birthday, he’ll be absolutely livid if I’ve lost it, do you have any idea how much a carbon-fibre case costs? No, of course you don’t. Look, I’m sorry about your bones, I really am. Let me go and report it, perhaps they picked up something on CCTV.”

  Richard vanished and Sam trudged up to the office where a transport policeman took down particulars. “Don’t think CCTV recording’s going to be much use, we’ve had all sorts through the station this morning with cases like that. I daresay the thief thought there was an instrument inside, a valuable one. Keep an eye on eBay is my advice; if they think the case is worth anything, then they’ll try to flog it.”

  Sam slumped down on a bench outside the station entrance, tired and utterly fed up. He was startled out of his glum reverie by the roar of a motorbike. It sounded familiar, but that must be his weary mind playing tricks on him. One motorbike sounded much like another to Sam, who knew nothing about bikes. But this one came to a halt, and surely those were the same two leather-clad figures he’d seen in Leicester. They propped up their bike, ignoring the No Waiting signs, and advanced menacingly towards him. They seemed completely human, but when they lifted their goggles and looked at him with cold indifferent eyes that had a glint of gold to them, he knew Richard was right: these two hailed from nowhere on Earth. And he knew they weren’t there to pass the time of day with him. They were there because of Richard.

  “Where is he?” Lyra said.

  “Where’s who?”

  The eyes bore into him. He felt he was being scanned, that a beam of energy was running over him from head to toe, penetrating his mind, reading his thoughts.

  “Don’t play games. Where is King Richard? You’ve been with him, and you have his bones.”

  Sam knew he couldn’t lie even if he tried, but he didn’t need to. He said angrily, “I don’t have his bones and I have no idea where he is. So just bugger off and leave me alone.”

  Their eyes met a point above his head then moved slowly down towards his shoulders. He felt an intense cold pass through him.

  Then they averted their gaze and dropped the goggles back over their eyes. Felix said, “He’s telling the truth.”

  “He can’t do anything else,” Lyra said as she swung on to the bike. Felix settled himself behind her, and with a roar they were off again.

  Sam let out a great breath, praying this was the last he’d see of them.

  Chapter 14

  Richard had gone in pursuit of his bones. Since they were essentially part of him, he had no problem tracking them down and he soon located the thief, a young man with the pale grey cello case hitched awkwardly over his shoulder. He turned down a narrow street. Half way down, a gaudy sign swayed gently in the breeze. It depicted a white rose obliterating a red rose and beneath that were the words Yorkist’s Revenge.

  Ignoring the ‘Closed’ notice on the door, the cello thief pushed it open and went in.

  Richard followed. Inside, another young man with a bristly head and an earring was wiping down the counter that ran down one side of the bar. A cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth. Sitting at a table hunched over a cup of coffee was a young woman with spiky hair and pale face. She looked up as the man with the cello case came in, and said, “Christ, mate, what you got there?”

  The man slung the case off his shoulder. “It’s a cello. A bloke left it propped up in the toilet at the station, so I nicked it. There might be a valuable instrument in there, some of these things go for thousands.”

  The man behind the bar looked over at the cello case. “Yeah, and a lot of fuss if it is valuable. You nicked it at the station? You’re seriously stupid, that place is covered from end to end with CCTV cameras.”

  “Stupid, nothing, I had my shades on and a woolly hat and a scarf and besides, the whole station is crawling with people carrying instruments, I saw half a dozen people carrying cases like this.”

  The man behind the bar said, “I used to play the violin, let’s have a look at what you’ve got in there. Nice case. That’s worth a few quid.”

  Richard watched as they laid the cello case on a table.

  “It isn’t even locked, how careless can people be?” the girl said.

  They released the catches, and swung the lid back.

  The three of them looked down with growing horror at the huddle of bones resting on the rich crimson velvet.

  The girl led out a shriek. “It’s a bloody skeleton. It’s a body!”

  The man from behind the bar shut the case with a bang and hastily fastened the catches. He glared at the other man. “Get rid of this. Get it out of here, right away. I’m not having any bodies in here. A cello is one thing, bones are another.”

  “It’s disgusting,” the girl said with rising indignation. “Fancy carrying something revolting like that around. Good thing he didn’t see you, the guy’s a murderer. He’s killed someone and boiled the bones down. Not just a murderer, a nutter.”

  “I’d better go and dump it somewhere,” the young man said nervously.

  “Better put it back where you got it. Maybe nobody will have noticed it’s gone,” the barman said.

  The girl had seized a paper napkin and was scribbling on it. She clicked open the case again, and, averting her eyes, thrust the pie
ce of paper inside before snapping the clasps shut again.

  The man said “What’s all that about?”

  “It’s a message to the guy, telling him he’s a right sicko. What a thing to do. People have got no morals these days.”

  Richard drifted along beside the young man as he trudged back to the station with the cello case. By this time there seemed to be even more youngsters carrying instruments of all shapes and sizes, and as they approached the station, the man wrapped his scarf round his face and, mingling with the throng of people, headed for the gents.

  Chapter 15

  Richard found Sam sitting on the bench, his head in his hands, the picture of tiredness and despair. He materialised and sat down beside him. “Lift up your spirits, Sam. I think your cello case has been returned.”

  Sam sprang to his feet. “What? Where?”

  Richard said, “The thief who stole it is putting it back where he found it. He didn’t care for my bones, you see.”

  Sam didn’t wait to hear more details; he was sprinting back into the station and towards the toilets. There, propped exactly where he’d left it, was the cello case.

  He didn’t feel any obligation to tell the transport police that he had found it. Much they cared. He felt a new man, enlivened and invigorated by getting the case back. And the bones must still be inside the case, because he could hear a faint rattle. To his surprise, he realized he minded about the bones.

  They set off towards the Minster. “Who are all these young musicians?” Richard asked.

  “There’s an international festival of youth orchestras and choirs,” Sam said. “Which is why I’m back today. I’m helping out at the orchestral rehearsals and I’ll be singing in the concert tonight. Hope I can get a bit of a zizz at some point today, otherwise I’ll yawn more than sing.”

  They passed St Wilfrid’s Church on the way to the Minster, and a thought occurred to Sam. He said, “King Richard, does it have to be the Minster? This is a Roman Catholic church and it might be much easier to put your bones in there. They guard the Minster closely you know, got their own police force and everything.”