Elvis surveyed the room. As he'd asked, it was in near darkness with just a feint flickering light from a couple of candles.
'Is she here yet? The old woman?' he asked urgently.
'There's no one come, but you.' replied Mary.
Elvis pulled out his phone and checked the time. 00.18. 'Shit! She's late.' He looked anxiously through the door at the frantic activity across the road. 'She'll never get through all of that.' he mumbled.
Mary placed a hand on his arm. 'Give her time.' she reassured him softly. 'She's old.'
Elvis tapped his hand nervously against his crutch and kept watching through the glass doors.
A shadow was approached on the path. It was too big to be the old woman. 'Quick! Blow out those candles!' hissed Elvis.
The room went black. Wooldridge and Madadh pulled their knives. Brock moved close to Elizabeth, put his hand around her waste and brought her in close. A torch beam shone into the porch. Elvis stood motionless. The beam scanned the porch and then through the open doors into the hall. The light became closer, stronger, and then the bearer entered the doorway. The beam picked out a frightened face, a mother sat holding her sleeping child.
Madadh seized the intruder in a crushing hug. The light fell to the floor. Wooldridge pushed his blade to the man's throat. Elvis dived on the torch. He picked it up and aimed it at a terrified face, an anorak and a dog collar.
More footsteps entered the hall.
'Och, noo this is a fine state of affairs I find ye all in, noo, isn't it.' said Mother Munro, limping in through the door. 'Put the man doon for heaven's sake Madadh?'
Alan followed the old woman several steps behind.
'Identify yourself man!' ordered Wooldridge.
'I'm...I'm the vicar. This is my church.'
'It's true, he is.' said Elvis, unsure if that made him safe.
'Leave the man alone!' ordered the inn-keeper. 'This man's been bringing us food.' He pulled Wooldridge's hand away. 'Without him we'd have starved.'
Madadh released him. The vicar checked his neck was still intact.
'Is that true?' asked Elvis.
The vicar nodded. 'Man can't live on jumble alone, Elvis.'
'I didn't think...'
'Don't worry. Look, you haven't got much time Elvis. They're going to be here any minute looking for you. I came to tell you that I'll keep them at bay as long as I can. I'll try and distract them, tell them they can't come round here. Sanctity of the church, hallowed ground, that sort of stuff. But you'll have to be quick. It won't last for long.'
'But why...?'
'There's no time for that now Elvis. Just do what you have to do.'
Three navy blue Transit vans screeched to a halt outside of Morris's shop. Men charged out, armed to the teeth, gas masks on. The first two sledge-hammered the front door and they all poured inside.
John Wayne looked on from a dozen TV screens. 'In this kind of war' he growled 'you've got to believe in what you're fighting for.'
They charged through the shop into the back office. It was empty. They charged upstairs to a locked door. They smashed their way in.
Inside was a room with bare floorboards and a couple of worn, red leather chairs. The walls were covered in maps of Britain, new and old. They were dotted with pins and streaked by dozens of string lines running from Edinburgh to London, to Oxford and Shrewsbury, Lincoln, York and elsewhere. There were portraits of faces on the wall with scribblings on each. On a table in the middle of the room were piles of paper. They were newspaper cuttings from ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred years ago and more. There were sketches and drawings, maps, hand written parchment scrolls and pages and pages of names.
'Wow, look at this!' A soldier aloft a copy of 'The Daily Courant' from 1789. A story was circled at the bottom of the page but the print was too faded to read.
'What the hell are you doing in here!' shouted an officer through the doorway. 'Get out, all of you! And you, you're not going to find the boy by reading those, you idiot!'. He pulled the pieces of paper from the soldier's hand and threw them back on the table. 'Find that bloody kid for God's sake!' He ushered them back out of room then went to the window. At the back of the house a blue Subaru switched on its headlights and screeched away. The officer pulled the curtains shut.
'So?' asked Elvis impatiently.
'So what?' asked Mother Munro, finding a chair to rest her tired body.
'So what do we do now? How do we get rid... how do we get them all home? You said you knew!'
'I do boy, I do. Stay calm for heaven's sake! We've no time for bein' flustered! Have you given all of them some of your newfangled tablets?'
'Yes! Yes!'
'Well, noo. It's not difficult. The potion brought them here so they could get well again. Once they've had their medicine then the potion will take them all back home.'
'Right...' said Elvis, unsure exactly what she meant. 'So... what do we do?'
'What do you think boy? Oh my good Lord! Where were ye when they were handing oot the brains laddie? Give them all some potion for heaven's sake! If ye've given them the reet medicine then the potion will de the rest.'
'Oh, I see!'
'Good. Soo what on earth are ye waitin' fer? Start handing oot the potion!'
Mary grabbed a bucket of potion and stood ready with a cup. The other faces in the room eyed one another nervously in the candlelight. They'd seen what had happened to Cormag. Nobody was keen to be first.
'Och fer heaven's sake. They'll be here in a minute an' then none o' ye's will get home. If ye stay here, ye'll all be dead before the month's oot! Him!' she pointed a wizened old finger at the inn-keeper. 'If it'll work on him it'll work on anyone! Give him a cup.'
Mary scooped a cup of potion from a bucket and handed it to the inn-keeper. He looked at it nervously.
'What are ye, a man or a moose? Drink it! Drink it noo!'
Outside the helicopter lights were spreading their search. Beams scoured across the churchyard, lighting the room through the high windows.
The inn-keeper reluctantly gulped down his potion and then waited for something to happen. Nothing did.
'Next.' barked the old woman.
'But it didn't work!' protested Elvis.
'Next!' she shouted again.
Mary scooped another cup and took it to Brock.
'No, I'll wait so we can all go together. I'll make sure your mother is safe.' He smiled at Elizabeth.
'Drink it!' ordered Mother Munro. 'Drink it!'
'Get on with it man!' barked Wooldridge.
'No I'd rather...' but Mary held the cup to his mouth and tipped. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls then spluttered. 'I said no!' he roared and smacked the cup from Mary's hand.
'Next!'
'But why when it's not working?' asked Elvis.
'Is it not?' Mother Munro pointed to where the inn keeper had stood. His clothes formed a pile on the floor.
'Can we chose when we arrive?' asked Samuel excitedly, ' I wanna come out at Christmas!'
'Don't be stupid boy! Of course you can't chose! This isn't one of your silly Hollywood moving picture thingies. This is real life fer heaven's sake! You'll come out where you died, when you died and be happy wi' it. Come out at Christmas! I ask ye!'
Brock approached Elizabeth. 'I want to stay with you, look after you. We should go together. You go next. Drink the potion, quick.' He placed a hand in Elizabeth's back and pushed her towards Mary.
'No, not yet.' said Mary. 'Elvis, you said you could get Dad back here, now. You said she'd know. Mum you have to wait.'
'She? She? Are ye referring to me young Mary?'
Brock seized the cup from Mary's hand. 'Here, drink it, quickly.' He raised the cup to Elizabeth's mouth.
Alice pulled on her mother's skirt and started to cry.
Elizabeth looked down to her daughter. 'Wait darlin'. Give Mummy a minute.' As she spoke the cup landed at her feet and splashed water across Alice. A pile of clothes fell to the floor whe
re Brock had stood.
'Och, noo isn't that a shame. Pity we couldn'e 'a' sent him somewhere else. Next. Come on noo. Or de y'all want to die in this terrible place?'
The rest began to gather around the buckets of potion and started helping themselves, parents giving it to children, young handing cups to the old and frail. Shipton made his way to the table. Mother Munro nodded to Madadh. Madadh strode up and removed the cup from his hand.
'Ye'll wait 'til yer told.'
Shipton wasn't going to argue with Madadh. He went back and sat quietly against the wall.
The room was thinning out.
Elvis pulled the repaired old death register from his pocket. He held a candle alongside. 'Look Mary! Look! The names, they're disappearing!'
Mary ran to see. It was true, the list of plague victims was less than half of its previous size, another name disappearing from the page as they looked on.
'Would they really all have been dead by the end of the month?' asked Elvis. 'If we hadn't sent them home now.'
'Och, I wouldn'e think soo.' said Mother Munro 'But I had te say something te get them movin'! Anyway, time's gettin' on. I guess ye'll be wanting to get back an' save this young maiden's father. Am I reet?'
Elvis nodded.
'It's a dangerous job, you know that? I canna guarantee ye'll come back .'
'But why the boy?' asked Elizabeth. 'James is my husband. If anyone should do this, it's me.'
'Aye, a noble thought, but with only one flaw. By the time ye get back home, he'll likely be already cold in the groond. Corpses generally don't take kindly te a drink, potion or no potion. It's the wee boy or nay one.'
'Are ye sure 'boot this Muther?' asked Madadh. 'What if he doesn'e mek it back? What if the stoon's lost. Whit'll happen te ye then?'
'No Madadh, I'm not sure aboot this. But that wee girl did her best fer me when I needed her and I think I owe her and her kin this chance.' She turned back to Elvis. 'Ye'll need te see that he drinks the potion before his death. And whatever else happens boy, ye must bring that stoon back with ye. D'ye understand?'
Elvis nodded again. 'But where do I find him.'
'The tower of St. Paul's, the cathedral.' said Elizabeth, 'Mister Brock said he was there, at the highest spot.'
'What, on top of the dome? I can't get up there!'
'That's the new cathedral boy. There'll be nay dome where you're gooing. Just look for the biggest building ye can find. That'll be the one. And remember, if ye fail to bring that stoon back, it'll be more than just me and the wee girl's father that'll be doomed.' She turned to Madadh. 'Noo then, there's one more thing we'll be needing. Madadh, if ye'd be so kind.'
Madadh marched to the side of the hall, grabbed Shipton by his shirt and dragged him before the old woman.
'I think ye have another thing that belongs te us Mister Scroggs.'
'No, I don't know what you're talking about. I ain't got nothin'!'
The helicopter searchlights lit up the porch and the side windows of the hall again.
'We don't have time for this. Madadh, have a look please.'
Madadh tore open Shipton's shirt. A heavy iron key hung on a string around his neck. Madadh yanked it free and handed it to the old woman.
'Aye, that's the one.' she said approvingly 'Most kind of ye t' take care o' it for us. Feel free to drink the potion noo Mister Scroggs.'
Shipton hissed his disapproval. He grabbed a cup of potion, swigged it down then hurled the empty cup across the room. In seconds he too was gone.
Elvis peered out of the front of the hall. He could see the vicar, stood at the gate to the churchyard remonstrating with men in gas-masks and overalls, the torches flicking between his face and the graves and church behind him.
'Reet boy. The time is noo. Listen to me carefully. Ye'll drink the potion wi' this key in yer hand and the stoon sittin' by yer heart.' She pushed the stone into the breast pocket of his tee shirt. 'Guard them both with yer life. If ye loose them ye'll noo be coming back, d'ye hear?'
Elvis gulped. 'Yes, with my life.' he repeated.
'And ye'll need a new name.'
'A name? I've got a name.'
'Noo boy, a name that doesn'e draw attention to ye. Ye canna be walkin' aroond sayin' 'helloo, ma name is Elvis'. They'll think your cuckoo.'
'Why?'
The old woman sighed. 'Elvis wasn'e a very popular name in the seventeenth century, boy.'
'It's not exactly all the rage in the twenty-first.' pointed out Alan.
'Ye'll need something like John or Samuel or Edward. Something simple that'll blend in. Choose something laddie, quickly noo.'
'Em...what about Tom?'
'Aye, Thomas is good enough. Thomas what?
'Cruise' replied Elvis. 'I'll be Thomas Cruise.'
'Cruise? Aye well, if that makes ye happy. Noo when ye get there, ye find the girl's father. Gi' the man the pootion then ye come straight back. No detours, no nipping doon te have a gander at the sights, d'ye hear?'
'But how do I get back?'
'When the jobs done, go back te the very spot the stoon first took ye, and ye de the same thing again. Make sure ye dinna lose them or ye'll noo be back at all. Noo hurry boy. Time is fading.' She handed him a cup of potion and thrust the key into his hand. 'God speed boy. God speed.'
Elvis did as he was told and gulped down the potion. 'But...hang on. What does he look like? What if he's not at the church?'
A white blur flashed in front of them. It was the white cat. It jumped onto a table and leapt into Elvis's arms.
'Och noo! Get that cat!' shouted the old woman.
But too late; the pair were gone.
'So what happens if he loses the stone and can't get back?' asked Alan 'Does that mean he lives the rest of his life back then ,whenever it was?'
'Och, noo, don't be silly boy.' replied Mother Munro 'That would ne'er happen.'
'Oh, good!' replied Alan.
'Noo, he'd die.'
Chapter 16