“Well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon,” said Theo over her shoulder. She’d obviously been listening to the boys.
“How can you be so sure?” Ian asked her.
“I just am, Ian,” she said confidently. “I just am.”
BONES IN THE WALL
I an and the four others returning to the keep from London were greeted with bubbling excitement. All the orphans were eager to hear of their adventure, and Carl became the unofficial spokesman for the group as he stood in front of the children and retold what had happened at Lady Arbuthnot’s home. Many in the group looked on in wonder, but Madam Scargill, like Perry, expressed some deeply held skepticism. “The earl most likely rang her up,” she sniffed. “I’m sure he’s getting quite a laugh out of pulling the wool over your eyes,” she added.
Madam Dimbleby frowned. “I’ve never known the earl to go to such elaborate lengths to play a joke, Gertrude. Especially to involve his elder aunt. No, I think there might be a little something to the woman’s keen abilities.”
Perry let out a small cough and Ian caught Thatcher scowling at his brother. Carl continued with the story of Professor Nutley’s messy house. “There was paper and books everywhere!” he said, using his hands to indicate the piles. “And Ian showed him the box he’d found in the tunnel, and the professor, well, he figured out how to open it and out came Ian’s map!”
Ian started at the mention of his map. He hadn’t thought Carl was going to bring up something he’d crafted in secret, so he quickly cleared his throat and gave Carl a warning glance. He didn’t want it becoming common knowledge that he had a map of a place he’d been strictly forbidden to explore. And sure enough, as if ferreting out trouble, Madam Scargill asked, “And what map is this?”
“Er …,” said Carl as he caught Ian’s eye. “It’s the map of … of …”
“The map I was making of the coastline, Madam,” Ian said, thinking quickly. “The map that fell out of the box slightly resembled my map.”
Madam Scargill’s nose twitched as if she were sniffing the air for a lie. “That’s an interesting coincidence, Ian,” she said.
“Very,” said Ian, working hard to appear calm under her squinty-eyed scrutiny. “But I believe it’s to be expected when someone puts a box from ancient Greece into an underground cavern. The map might be an indication that someone from a distant land brought it here.”
“Someone from ancient Greece?” asked Winifred Simonds, a plump little girl a year younger than Ian.
“Highly unlikely,” said Perry. “There is no evidence that the ancient Greeks visited our shores.”
“But what of the writing on the wall?” asked Carl. “I thought the professor said that was written in ancient Greek.”
Ian focused on his schoolmaster, very interested in hearing his theory on who might have scrawled his name on the walls of the tunnel, but Perry shrugged and stuck with the professor’s conclusion. “It is possible that the box was deposited in the cavern by a thief who stole it from either the Greek archives or a personal collection and the writing on the wall indicates that this is all some sort of elaborate hoax.”
Theo scowled. “It isn’t a hoax,” she said quietly, but only Ian heard her.
“Is the box valuable?” asked Maxwell Kromby, a sickly little boy of about eight who had been at the orphanage since he was only a few days old. “If Ian found it, perhaps he can sell it and get some money for it.”
Perry and Thatcher looked slightly uncomfortable with the question, and Ian felt his heart beat faster. Maxwell had unwittingly spoken Ian’s secret plans for the box out loud, and as he saw the doubt form on his schoolmasters’ faces, he knew he wasn’t going to like their answer.
Thatcher said, “I expect that there should be an effort to find out the origin of the box first. If it was stolen, then it should be returned to its rightful owner, and only after an extensive search would I say it would be allowable for Ian to keep it and do with it what he wishes.”
Ian’s hopes sank, but Theo tried to cheer him by saying, “Not to worry, Ian. That box belongs with you, and I’ve a strong feeling you’ll get it back before long.”
This made Ian feel better, and he nudged Theo with his shoulder. “We’ll split the profits, of course,” he said to her, which made her beam.
The group chattered on for several more minutes before Ian saw Madam Dimbleby glance at the clock and get to her feet. “All right, then,” she said with a clap of her hands to get everyone’s attention. “It’s getting late and we have church services in the morning. Everyone to bed.”
The children dispersed with only mild protest as they headed off to their rooms. Ian said good night to Theo and he and Carl walked up the stairs to their room.
As he entered his dormitory, he suddenly remembered that he’d wanted to check on his map, so he hurried to his bed and felt under his pillow. His map was exactly where he’d left it. But before taking it out, he glanced around at the boys in the room, who were busy getting into their night-clothes. No one seemed interested in what he was fiddling with under his pillow, so he pulled it out and unfolded the creases.
It was exactly as he’d last seen it. No additional markings, and yet it seemed almost a mirror image of the one that had come out of the silver box, save for the age of the parchment. Ian studied the markings, baffled, when he heard Carl exclaim, “Blimey, that’s the map from the box!” over his left shoulder.
Ian jumped and, turning quickly, hissed, “Shhh!”
“But, Ian,” Carl said in a hushed tone, “that is the map from the box!”
“I know,” said Ian as he folded the paper up quickly and looked behind him to see if any of the other boys had noticed. “I just don’t understand how it could be in two places at once.”
“This whole thing’s a bit barmy!” Carl said moodily, sitting down next to Ian. “I mean, we’ve got wild beasts and lost tunnels and ancient Phoenician boxes filled with scrolls that aren’t written in Greek and your map in two places at once, not to mention your name in Greek on that wall. What’s that about?”
Ian shook his head. “I don’t know, Carl,” he admitted, thinking that his friend was right to call all the recent events madness. “But I do know there is something you and I need to investigate tomorrow after church.”
“What’s that?” asked Carl, his interest suddenly piqued.
Ian unfolded a small section of the map. “Remember that tunnel that was added to the map from the box?”
“The one labeled ‘Portal’ or something?”
“Yes,” said Ian. “That’s the one. I think we need to try to find it.”
Carl’s eyebrows lowered skeptically. “Don’t you usually go exploring with Theo?”
Ian smiled. He detected that Carl was just a bit jealous of his close friendship with Theo. “I do,” he admitted. “But she’s been through a lot in the last few weeks, and taking her on another exploration right now might rattle her. I figure it’s a better job for you and me.”
Carl slapped his kneecap. “That’s brilliant!” he said just a little too loudly.
“What’s brilliant?” called James from two cots over.
“Nothing!” both Ian and Carl said as Ian quickly put his map away before anyone became too curious. “We’ll talk more in the morning,” he whispered to Carl as the boys hurried to get into bed.
* * *
The next day, after they’d been released from morning services, Ian and Carl were easily able to slip away from the grounds. Ian had told Theo that he and Carl were running an errand for Madam Dimbleby, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Madam had asked Ian if he would go to the bakery and pick up a few extra loaves of bread for supper. He in turn had asked her if Carl could come along to help carry the bread, and although she’d given him a look that said, “I know you’re up to something, but I’m not sure what,” she allowed Carl to go along.
Ian led the way as the boys sprinted out from the grounds of the keep and ran as fast as their legs w
ould carry them toward the cliffs. He reasoned that no one would be too alarmed if they arrived back at the keep a little later than it would take to go to the bakery and back; however, if they took too long, they ran the risk of having the alarm sounded and a search party come looking for them—especially since the beast was still at large. As if to emphasize this, two men out on patrol along the roads, each with a hunting rifle over his shoulder, passed them. “Any sign of the beast?” Ian asked the second man.
The scrawny-looking man with several days’ stubble on his chin scowled as if he was irritated with his assignment. “No sign a’tall,” he said. “All’s been quiet for weeks now.”
Ian and Carl both smiled at him as they dashed past and cut off the road to run along the hilly terrain, dodging around rocks and traveling along well-worn paths, moving closer to Castle Dover’s south end, until Ian finally held up his hand and stopped on a slope just beyond the castle’s large back wall.
Ian wasted no time as he pulled his map out from his back pocket and unfolded it.
“How … are … we … going to … find the … tunnel?” Carl asked, wheezing, as he glanced up from his bent-over position.
Ian waited to catch his own breath before answering. “I’ve got to rely mostly on the memory of the map at Professor Nutley’s. And I remember it being drawn somewhere near this tunnel,” he said, pointing to the south westernmost tunnel on his map.
“And where’s that one located?” Carl asked, standing tall again.
“Right underneath our feet,” said Ian with a smile.
Ian turned the map around in a circle, studying it closely as he periodically glanced at the horizon to gauge the direction and pinpoint his location. After thinking it through, he said, “Come on, I think it’s this way.”
Carl followed him as the boys crept up to some woods that bordered the outer wall of Castle Dover. Carl looked at them skeptically. “You want to go in there?” he asked, and Ian knew he was nervous about the beast.
“It’s just a small patch of woods, mate,” Ian said easily. “Besides, you heard the patrolman. There’s been no sign of the beast for weeks. And the earl’s had his hounds out patrolling the grounds daily. If there was any chance the beast was nearby, don’t you think they would have sniffed her out by now?”
Carl still looked uncertain but shrugged and said, “I guess.”
“Come on, then,” Ian said, plunging forward into the dense scrub. “If we find anything at all that suggests the beast is about, we’ll have just a short run up to the earl’s garden path and through the gate.”
“All right,” said Carl grudgingly, and he followed Ian.
After a bit, Ian stopped and squinted at his map again. “It’s got to be near here,” he said, lowering the map to look at the terrain. “I remember the tunnel was marked by some steps.”
“Really?” said Carl, glancing over Ian’s shoulder at the paper in his hands. “I don’t remember any stairs.”
“Oh, trust me,” said Ian, holding the map up for Carl to see. “They’re there. See this symbol on this tunnel closer to the cliffs?”
Carl peered at the paper. “That zigzag?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s my symbol for stairs. One end of the Portal tunnel was marked with that zigzag.”
“You’ve got a better memory than me,” said Carl as he looked around nervously at their surroundings. “Can’t really see much of anything among these trees, though.”
“Well, it’s got to be here somewhere,” said Ian, glancing around at the dense patch of woods.
Carl gulped but seemed to gather his courage as he asked, “Where shall we begin looking, then?”
“I think it’s best if we split up. You go that way and I’ll go this way. If you find the stairs, call out and I’ll come to you.”
Carl’s expression clearly suggested he was less than thrilled with that idea but he kept his mouth shut and headed off in the direction Ian had pointed to. Ian walked in the opposite direction, pushing at plants and looking around stumps for any sign of the stairway indicated on the old map.
After a good ten minutes, he headed back to his starting place and found Carl coming through the brush at him from the opposite direction. “Any luck?” he asked.
Carl shook his head. “It’s really thick back there,” he said, pointing behind him. “You’d be lucky to find your feet, let alone a set of stairs.”
“Well, if we don’t find the stairs on this pass, we’ll wait until after the next time we visit with the professor and get a better feel for exactly where they are.”
Carl nodded and headed east. Ian turned west and searched again. Not even three minutes had passed when Ian heard Carl shout, “Oi, Ian! Come here quick!”
Ian whipped around and bolted as fast as he could toward the sound of Carl’s voice, afraid he might have been wrong about the beast being nowhere about. To his immense relief he found his friend straightaway. Carl was jumping up and down with excitement.
“Look!” he said, pointing to a rather crude structure that was nearly completely hidden by ivy and brush. Ian moved closer and gasped when he realized that what he’d thought was just a clump of vegetation was actually four huge flat stones that formed three walls and a roof. These mammoth pieces of rock sheltered a set of stairs leading down to a metal grate door that stood slightly ajar.
“You’ve found it!” Ian exclaimed. “Good job, mate. Now, let’s see what’s down there!”
The stairs were narrow and the boys descended one at a time, with Ian in the lead. When they reached the bottom, he paused at the gate, peering into the spooky darkness of the tunnel beyond the iron.
“Should we go in?” whispered Carl.
“Why are you whispering?” Ian whispered back.
“Why are you whispering?” asked Carl.
Ian rolled his eyes and gathered his courage. “Never mind,” he said in his normal voice while digging into his pocket for the pocket torch the earl had replaced for him. Clicking it on, he attempted a joke. “We’ve got to be quick about it. Don’t want anyone at the keep to think we’ve been eaten alive, or anything.”
Carl went starkly pale. “You don’t think the beast is in there, do you?” he asked in a shaky whisper.
Ian almost laughed at his friend’s expression. But seeing that Carl really was frightened, he was quick to reassure him. “Of course not! I was only joking, mate.”
Carl gulped. “Still, perhaps we should take a big stick with us, just in case we have to defend ourselves?”
Ian could have slapped himself for being so stupid as to make a crack about being eaten alive. “Sure, Carl, sure,” he said. “I’ll wait here while you get your stick.”
Carl bolted back up the stairs and Ian could hear him tramping through the woods. He leaned against the frame of the door and shone the beam of the small torch into the tunnel opening. As he swirled the light around in small circles, something sparkled in the gloominess. Curious, Ian pointed his beam directly on the floor in front of him. Not far away something shiny glinted back.
“I found one!” Carl called from the top of the stairs.
“That’s good,” Ian said, still distracted by what his light was reflecting off. “Come on, then, or we’ll run out of time.”
Carl raced down the stairs and showed Ian his big stick, which was nearly as tall as he was. “Nice choice,” Ian said to him, working hard to appear serious.
Carl flashed a winning smile; then he nodded and Ian turned back to the tunnel. He could hear Carl walking behind him with the tap … tap … tap of the stick striking the stone floor every other step. They went cautiously and slowly—Carl because he was clearly afraid of creepy dark tunnels, Ian because he wanted to examine the walls for indications of who had carved it out.
The stairs and the gate indicated that this tunnel was man-made. As they went in, Ian was surprised by how wide and spacious the interior was. Most of the other tunnels required anyone taller than he to duck, but this one had a great dea
l of extra headroom and was wide enough for three men to walk abreast. Ian bounced the beam of his pocket torch around the walls and ceiling but kept going back to the shiny object at the end of the tunnel. As he moved closer, he could see that the reflective surface was something about as large as a football, and almost as round.
“What is that?” Carl whispered as he too caught sight of the metallic object in the beam of Ian’s torch.
“Don’t know,” said Ian, intensely curious now. “Come on. Let’s have a closer look.”
The boys picked up their pace, their focus now only on the shiny object. When they got close enough to touch it, they stopped and looked down. The thing was shaped much like an egg, with a bronze-coated surface that was lightly covered in dust and cobwebs. Ian had no idea what it was, so he kicked at it, and it rolled over, revealing a hollow center.
“It’s a helmet,” said Carl, poking it with his stick.
Ian squatted excitedly and picked it up, delighted to have found another bit of treasure. “It’s heavy,” he said, holding it at eye level and wiping the dust covering it on his trouser leg. Carl leaned in to get a better look and Ian smiled, thinking of a prank to play on his friend. “Here, why don’t you try it on for size?” And he plopped the helmet on Carl’s head.
“Hey!” Carl said as the heavy bronze headgear came down over his eyes and rested near his nose. “I can’t see!”
Ian laughed and laughed while his friend stumbled around ridiculously, banging into something that gave an eerie clatter. “What was that?” Carl asked, laughing too while he reached up to tug up the lip of the helmet.
But all laughter died in Ian’s throat as he saw the object now reflecting his torch beam.
As Carl continued to thrash about, Ian was frozen in place. He raised a shaking hand and pointed at the back wall, where the bony remains of the upper torso and skull of some poor soul were cemented firmly into the rock and protruded grotesquely out at him.