“As I said, you’d best not mention that part to your friend when you give her the photograph. She’s better off not knowing.”
But Ian wasn’t sure that keeping Theo in the dark was a good idea. In all the time he’d known her, Theo had mentioned her mother only once, and that was when she was six. Ian had overheard her asking Madam Dimbleby about a terrible dream she’d had of her mother getting lost in a storm and Theo being unable to find her. Theo had admitted that the dream had sparked the faintest memory of her mum and she had wanted to know if the headmistress knew whether the dream was real and what had actually happened to her mother.
Ian remembered Madam Dimbleby’s gentle voice as she told the girl that her dream was part of a real memory, that her mother had been killed in that violent storm but a kindly man from the village had rescued Theo from a similar fate and brought her to Delphi Keep, where he knew she would be well cared for.
Ian remembered that night as well, and the stranger who had brought Theo to them had mentioned only that Theo’s mother had abandoned the child out in one of the fields. Ian knew that the headmistress had been trying to be kind by telling Theo that her mother had died. It would have been far more difficult for a young girl to digest that her own mother had simply abandoned her, leaving her to the mercy of the elements.
But Ian wondered if Theo was better off knowing the truth: that her mother’s fate was unknown. He knew that most of the children who had been brought to the keep as babes had never been told the circumstances of their arrival. The headmistresses believed that unless a child specifically asked about how he or she came to be orphaned, it was best to leave it unsaid.
Ian understood too that many of the children who hadn’t asked held secretly to a hope that their parents were alive and would someday come to the orphanage in search of them. Ian knew this because he was one of those children. After thinking about what he should tell Theo, he found that he couldn’t make up his mind, so he reasoned that he would sleep on it and decide what to tell her at breakfast.
While Ian sat lazily in his chair, his eyelids became droopy. He thought it might be improper to excuse himself from the table before the others had polished off their desserts, so he did his best to keep his eyes open and his head from bobbing forward, but it was a sincere struggle given how tired and content he felt. When he could barely hold his head up a moment longer, he heard his name being called from across the table.
This of course caused him to snap his eyes open and sit up straight as he searched for the speaker. He looked first at the earl and noticed that both he and Ciaran were looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry?” he said, darting his gaze between them, unsure which one had called his name.
“I asked if I might have a look at your box,” said Ciaran. “The earl tells me you discovered it in that second cavern.”
“Oh!” Ian said as he fumbled clumsily with the artifact on the table beside him. “Yes, of course, sir. By all means have a look.”
He handed the box to Perry, who was sitting closest to Ciaran, and watched as it made its way to the portly man. “My heavens,” said Ciaran as he turned the box round and round. “What an odd item to turn up in an underground cavern.” Ciaran then squinted as he looked closely at the seam between the lid and the box, then gently attempted to pull the lid open, but without success. He then shook it gently, and Ian knew that Ciaran could tell something moved inside, just as Ian had already observed.
“I believe it’s Grecian,” said Thatcher smartly. “There is some lettering in the engraving that appears to be ancient Greek.”
“Just like the writing on the wall,” suggested Alfred as he leaned against Ian to look at the box in his father’s hands.
“Do you know how it opens?” Ciaran asked Thatcher, and when the schoolmaster held out his hands for the box, Ciaran handed it over.
Thatcher inspected it closely and he also attempted to pull up on the lid, but to no avail. Then, as Ian watched anxiously, the box was passed from person to person around the table to be inspected and shaken. Many attempts to open the lid were made—all of them unsuccessful.
While the box was making its rounds, Ciaran looked at the earl expectantly. “Don’t you wonder, Hastings, about all of this?” he asked. “What I mean to say is that I find it a bit strange that this young lad found a lost tunnel, which it appears no one has been in for centuries, with his name scrawled on the walls in ancient Greek, a language he’s clearly unfamiliar with. And further, while locating this treasure box, the lad unwittingly let loose a giant ferocious beast bent on killing him and anyone else who might step into its path.”
“What’s your point, Ciaran?” the earl asked curiously.
“Well,” replied the man, “I suppose what keeps niggling at the back of my mind is that all of these extraordinary events might somehow be connected. Take for example that pile of rocks we found separating the beast’s lair from the second cavern, where Ian found his box. Those stones were obviously placed there by human hands, which makes the barrier’s placement rather curious, don’t you think? Why would anyone construct a barricade that would prevent them from making a hasty exit if they needed to?”
Ian furrowed his brow. He was having a hard time following Ciaran. “What I mean to say,” the earl’s friend continued, “is that access from the cliff’s face where we found the beast’s lair to the two inner caverns was purposely blocked off, but what I can’t think of is why. Why would someone wall themselves in like that? It makes no logical or strategic sense to cut off an escape route through the tunnels should an enemy come in after you from behind.”
The earl squinted at Ciaran. “I hadn’t considered that until you mentioned it, my friend,” he admitted. “But perhaps the wall wasn’t meant as a barricade against getting out of the caverns; perhaps it was meant as a barrier to prevent someone from entering the caverns from the cliff’s face. Perhaps it was an attempt to keep the box safe from would-be looters exploring the caves along the cliffs.”
“Yes,” Ciaran said. “Or perhaps there was another reason.”
“Like what, Father?” asked Alfred.
“Well,” answered Ciaran, his pasty complexion flushing with excitement. “I’m wondering about the Greek writing on the wall of the first cavern we encountered—the one we entered into from aboveground. It clearly indicates that the author knew that Ian would come into that cavern first, not last. Whoever put that writing there seemed to be certain that Ian would not attempt to enter the caverns from the cliff’s face as the natural path of the tunnels and caverns would suggest he would. How could this mysterious person be so certain that Ian would find a small hole in the ground covered by thick vegetation and work his way into that first cavern from aboveground?”
Ciaran looked round at the group at the table. They were all silent as they contemplated his question. When Ciaran’s eyes settled on Ian, Ian shrugged. He had no idea.
Ciaran nodded solemnly, as if he’d proven his point. “Clearly whoever left the box for Ian to find had a rather acute prophetic sense and he might also have known that when Ian discovered the box, he would need time against an unseen danger to retrieve it. Perhaps the stone barricade was meant to keep out not only looters, but a terrible beast as well.
“So the question I have to ask is why?” Ciaran continued. “What is it about that box that is so important that one of your orphans needed to risk his life to discover it? And does the box have any kind of link to this beast? These two extraordinary things—the discovery of an ancient Greek artifact here in Dover and the emergence of a legendary creature—seem to have only your young orphan in common, and the timing of both of these events is quite remarkable, wouldn’t you agree, Hastings?”
Ciaran’s interpretation hit Ian like a thunderbolt. He moved his attention to the earl, anxious to hear his thoughts. Deep in his gut, Ian knew that the beast and the box were linked. What he didn’t know was how or why.
The earl seemed to gather his thoughts, and by this t
ime the box had been passed to him. Ian watched as he too turned it round and round and attempted to open the lid. “You know, Ciaran, you’ve got an interesting theory there,” he said, holding the box up to his ear as he gave it a gentle shake. “Clearly there’s something inside this box, but the lid appears airtight. Perhaps what’s within will offer us a good explanation?”
“My professor friend from Cambridge should be able to tell us about the authenticity of the box,” said Thatcher. “He’s a professor of archaeology and spent much of his time in Greece. I believe he might also be able to suggest a way of opening it without causing the artifact undue damage.”
Ian was quite relieved to hear that; he didn’t want the box ruined in an effort to get inside. Whatever was in there could wait as far as he was concerned. He just wanted to be able to sell his treasure for as much as possible, and he realized that keeping it intact and in good condition was important to retaining the value. That was the only thing thus far that had prevented him from trying to wedge it open himself.
“Well,” said the earl, handing the box back to Ian with a kind smile, “I had made up my mind that the beast was protecting its pups and that’s what provoked the attack on Ian and the orphanage. And I must say that although I do find it a particularly odd coincidence that someone fluent in ancient Greek would write Ian’s name upon the wall of a forgotten cavern, it still seems unlikely to me that this person would also know that the beast would be lurking within a nearby tunnel when Ian finally came along to remove the box.
“No, Ciaran, I believe that the simple explanation is the truth, that the stone barrier was put in place not because of some prophetic knowledge that Ian would face the danger of the beast, but for a more practical reason, which was to seal the cavern off from the corrosive elements of wind and sea, as well as to protect it from would-be looters. And so, I must conclude that it was nothing more than sheer luck that the barricade was in place when Ian found the artifact and a mere coincidence—albeit an extraordinary one—that Ian and the beast would both be there at the same time.”
“So you’re still of the mind that the beast was merely protecting her pups?” asked Perry.
“Yes,” said the earl with a smile. “I cannot see a link between Ian’s discovery of the box and the beast’s attack other than the natural instincts of a wild animal defending her territory from a perceived threat.”
But Ian wasn’t so sure. His mind kept returning to how the beast had dug into the chalky floor ferociously after Ian had recovered the treasure. It also didn’t explain why the beast was so intent on attacking Theo. He felt certain—as she did—that it had marked her as prey. He’d seen it in the beast’s eyes up in the tower room when it had turned away from him to go after her. He wanted to bring that up for discussion, but the men were already off on another topic, so he let it drop.
Finally, when Ian’s eyelids had again begun to droop, the earl suggested that the hunting party retire to the library for cigars and brandy, and the exhausted boy was excused to go to bed.
Binsford escorted him up two flights of stairs and down a long corridor to a door at the end of the hallway “All the children are staying in this wing so that we can keep track of you,” the earl’s head butler said quietly “We’ve separated everyone into the eight bedrooms on this floor. You will find an empty bed and some nightclothes in there,” he added, halting in front of the last door on the left. “Breakfast will be served in rounds, beginning with the youngest at six-thirty a.m. Your group will be called to the table at eight. Should you need to use the lavatory in the middle of the night, it is the fifth door down from here. We’ve left the light on and the door cracked for your convenience.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ian, noting the light from down the hall.
When he turned back, he noticed Binsford looking at him with a frown. “Will you need assistance getting into your nightclothes?” he asked, and Ian saw that the butler was looking at his arm still in its sling.
Ian felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you, sir, but I believe I can manage. However, if you might help me off with this sling?”
The head butler gave a curt nod and carefully lifted the sling over the boy’s head. Ian winced as it came free and he felt the dull throb of his shoulder thrum right down to his fingers, but getting his arm free of its restrictive bandage was still a welcome relief. “Thank you, sir,” he said again.
“Rest well, Master Wigby,” Binsford replied, and he turned abruptly and walked away.
Ian turned the knob on the door and entered his room as quietly as he could. After shutting the door, he leaned against it for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He felt a tiny pang of homesickness for the keep as the details of the room slowly came into focus. This room was smaller than his dormitory back at the orphanage. When he could clearly make out shapes, he saw four beds with three sleeping boys. He was relieved to discover that his new friend Carl was one of them, and the twins Ethan and Benjamin were the other two. Ian crossed to the last bed, by the window, smiling as he thought about how the other boys had left that bed for him, as it was common knowledge that Ian liked the coolness of the night air on his face while he slept.
He made his way to the window and pulled back the curtain. The sky was no longer overcast and the moon lit the water of the Strait of Dover in the distance with a silvery glow. He yawned and cracked the window. Then he carefully took off his clothes, noting with relief that he was able to move his arm now without too much trouble. As he laid his trousers over the bed frame, he heard something clink to the ground. Bending over, he realized he’d forgotten about the crystal charm he’d found in Madam Scargill’s room that morning.
He picked up the charm and held it to the window to better see it, but as the crystal shone in the light of the moon, something seemed to spark from within the heart of it. Ian caught his breath and he blinked a few times as he lowered the crystal and eyed it suspiciously. There were no more sparks, but there was something odd about the crystal. It felt hot.
He immediately reasoned that this was because it had been in his pocket all day and had probably been warmed by his body heat. But as he closed his fingers around it, he could tell that the charm was warmer than his own skin. There also seemed to be a pulsing sensation that he could just barely feel in his palm where the crystal rested.
“Odd,” he whispered as he opened his hand again to study the thing. After a moment or two, he set the crystal on the windowsill and moved to hang his shirt and blazer on the side of the bed frame when something else caught his eye. The photograph and the silver box he’d brought with him upstairs were resting on the bed and Ian had the sudden urge to look again at the picture.
He reached for the frame and held it up to the moonlight, squinting at the black-and-white photo, studying it carefully, and he gasped when he suddenly noticed what he hadn’t seen before. There, around Theo’s mother’s neck, tucked near the lace of her collar, was the very charm he’d just set on the windowsill. He now had proof that the necklace belonged to Theo and he resolved to get it to her as soon as possible.
He’d have to warn her, of course, about not letting Madam Scargill catch her with the charm, but even Madam Scargill couldn’t deny the evidence in the photograph. The woman pictured happily with her baby looked so much like Theo that she could be her older sister. Ian set the photo and the box next to the charm on the windowsill. He hung his clothes up and put on the nightshirt that was left for him. It was a bit large but he wasn’t about to complain. He was more tired than he’d ever been, and he couldn’t be happier that he had something other than his dusty day clothes to wear to sleep.
Right before he turned to get into bed, a small movement called his attention back to the window. He blinked tiredly at the landscape of the large lawn and the rolling hills and his breath caught in his throat. He could swear he saw at the far end of the lawn a man draped in a long billowing cloak that seemed, to his amazement, to be fringed with glowing embers. Th
e hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, and he watched as the figure seemed to glide along the lawn in his cloak, which danced and sparked with an unnatural quality. And then, at the bottom of the hill, the figure stopped.
Ian’s heart hammered when he saw the stranger turn and his hooded head seemed to lift, looking along the wall of the castle to where Ian stood staring out the window. Ian gasped; then he quickly ducked behind the curtain, out of view. For a moment it had felt as if the creepy stranger’s eyes had met his own and an icy terror had swept right through him.
He gulped and tried to steady himself; then, ever so slightly, he peeled the curtain back a fraction to peek out at the lawn. But the cloaked figure was gone. Ian stepped close again, using the curtain to shield himself, and he searched for any trace of the man he’d seen only a moment before—yet none remained.
He thought about going downstairs to tell the earl what he’d seen, but to what end? The stranger was gone, and all Ian could say about him was that he thought a man in an odd cloak had been walking along the lawn at the bottom of the hill. What if it turned out he was a member of the earl’s staff and that his cloak had just been some sort of trick of the light? Ian would be a laughingstock. No, it was best to forget the whole thing and turn in. Still, even as exhausted as he was, sleep was a long time coming.
THE FURY
The next morning Ian awoke bleary-eyed and still very tired. Carl was awake and sitting up in bed, staring at him with an excited grin. “Did you kill the beast, then?” he asked when he saw Ian’s eyes blink open.
Ian shook his head. “’Fraid not,” he said glumly. “What’s worse is it looks as if there’s more than one beast to worry about.” He then went on to explain what the hunting party had found in the caves.
“Blimey!” moaned Carl. “That’s blooming awful!”