‘They are written in Anglo Saxon Runic symbols. Sir Gawain was the nephew of King Arthur and one of the famous Knights of the Round Table, whilst Belphoebe was a beautiful Faerie princess from the underworld,’ continued the old man. ‘We are standing on what remains of Lud’s Chapel where the marriage of Gawain and Belphoebe was taking place. Standing in front of them is Bishop Baldwin and surrounding the happy couple are eleven of Gawain’s friends and fellow knights: Lionel, Dodinal, Gaheris, Bedivere, Erec, Bors, Ywain, Lamorak, Balin, Lucan and finally Morholt.' He passed his hand round the circle like he was introducing old friends at a dinner party; there was a certain amount of kindness in his voice as he fondly retold the Knight’s names.
‘But they’re just stones,’ said Joe disbelieving what the old man had said. He had no way of knowing if what the old man had said about the inscriptions was correct or not.
‘It’s true, they are stones but they hadn’t always been that way. The marriage between a Faerie and a human was strictly forbidden so the Faerie Queen cursed them and their guests by turning them to stone. But in doing so what she actually did was to create a magical place where the human world and the unseen Faerie world are constantly joined, protected by these eleven brave knights as well as Bishop Baldwin, as God's representative on Earth.’
'But I thought Faeries are small things with wings?'
'No. You've been reading too many comic books. The ancient Faeries are shape-changers; they can be anything they want to be and can fly by using magic not by papery wings on their back,' replied the old man with a look of annoyance on his face.
‘So why would this be a good place to find something you might have lost?' asked Joe, taking the old man back to his earlier comment.
‘You came here looking for Peter Crisp didn’t you?' he asked.
‘How do you know?' replied Joe with surprise.
‘He came here two nights ago to hide from something. I’m not sure what it was but there was something in the graveyard with him, I thought you and your friend might know what it was.’
‘We know you had been watching us.’
‘Your red-haired saviour told you, did she?' he said with a smile.
‘Yes. So where is Peter now?’
‘I don’t know,’ the old man sadly replied. ‘I should have been there to help him but now he’s gone. He passed on from here.’
‘Where to?' Max asked.
‘Legend has it that this circle is actually an entrance to the Underworld. That’s where he’s gone.’
11. The League of White Knights
Joe felt uncomfortable and wanted to get away from the man as soon as possible, but the old man was still sitting on the stone nearest to the footpath and, more importantly, next to his bike. His exit was blocked. How could the old man know about Peter, unless he was somehow involved with his disappearance? The old man was talking about tales and stories from medieval days when they also believed in Dragons and the bogey monster, but now everyone knew there were no such things as Faeries, especially ones that could turn things into stone.
'If this is an entrance to somewhere, then where’s the door?' he asked looking around the circle pretending he’d missed it but secretly looking to see if there was any other way to escape. All around the circle was farmland. He was sure that he could outrun the old man, after all he needed a stick just to walk.
'You can’t see the door. It’s an energy field that can only be opened in one of three ways. The first way is by being the possessor of the Silver Bough, a magical branch from an Elm tree. The second is for those that are gifted with The Sight, a unique vision of the Unseen world only available to certain ancient families and the third is the rarest of them all, by invitation. One of those will allow you to pass into the unseen world.'
'And you truly believe all of this?' asked Joe in a disbelieving voice. The old man was talking nonsense. 'You really think there is a silver Elm tree somewhere or that some people can see things that aren’t really there! And I suppose a Pixie is going to walk up to someone and just give them an invitation for you to go to their birthday party.'
The old man stood up, a look of fury had passed over his face fuelled by Joe's words.
'You do not have time to mock me, young man. Peter is in danger. Don’t be blinded by the things that you can see. There is much more to this world than what is in front of your eyes. You cannot see the air but you know it is there. You cannot see love, or sadness but you feel them inside you. Have you ever lost something that you were certain about where you left it?'
'Careless mistakes,' replied Joe back to the old man, dismissing the argument he was putting forward.
‘Well, what about the pretend friend you had when you were a young child. That was real wasn’t it?’
‘At the time it was, but he was probably just in my imagination. No adults could see him.’
‘That’s because their eyes are blind to things their brains don’t understand. What about when you see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked there was nothing there? The unseen world does exist and Peter was one of those who possessed The Sight; he could see things that no one else could.’ The old man paused, watching Joe thoughtfully, wondering if he was going to make a run for it. ‘But now you're quiet. Have you nothing to say to that? Does it not surprise you?'
'We all just thought he was talking to himself,' said Joe thinking about what Peter was like at school.
'Peter has The Sight, as did his grandmother before him. He would have been talking to things he saw, small creatures like Sprites, things you wouldn’t be able to see yourself,' explained the old man, slightly calmer now as he felt that Joe was starting to believe him.
'How do you know all of this?' asked Joe. Part of his brain still told him to run and come back for his bike another time, but another part was becoming curious to know more.
'My name is Sir Edgar Gorlois, Duke of Tintagel and one of the original members of The League of White Knights,’ he gave a low bow as he introduced himself before continuing. ‘We are an ancient group of Knights founded by King Arthur himself to protect the human world from the dangers of the unseen world. After Gawain and Belphoebe suffered their fate here by the hand of Morgan Le Fay, a Faerie Sorceress and their Queen, Arthur swore to protect England forever and left a band of four knights to remain hidden but protecting all known entrances like this one, keeping the Silver Bough safe and watching over the families with The Sight.'
Edgar now started to walk into the centre of the circle nearer to Joe. Although Joe was still unsure about the old man, he stayed where he was alongside Gawain’s stone.
‘You may have heard the old tale about King Arthur coming back to save England in its time of greatest need,’ continued Edgar. Joe nodded. ‘Well, he won’t be coming back because he’s never left. In me I carry his beliefs and ideals and am here to serve England and prevent creatures from the underworld from entering this world again.’
'But that would mean you were thousands of years old!' Joe replied with a laugh.
‘About 1500 years old actually, but I loose track from time to time. My body is not a day older than when the Immortalitus spell was performed on us by Arthur’s friend and teacher Merlin.’
'So where are the other three Knights?' asked Joe.
'Unfortunately, they are all dead. There is now only myself left. We can still be killed just like anyone else, still be affected by viruses or have our bodies harmed, but every cell that makes us up remains the same and never ages. I was an old man when I became a White Knight as I am today, but despite my appearance, I have the strength of a man much younger.’
‘Then why do you carry a stick?’
‘For appearances' sake. If I look old, I must be old. That way I don’t draw attention to myself and no one takes any notice of me. But I have been amongst you and your families for many years. I swore to watch over those with The Sight and came to Parsley Bottom when Peter moved here.’
‘Peter’s mu
m knows you watch her family. The police are probably looking for you; they think you may have something to do with Peter’s disappearance.’
Sir Edgar frowned, ‘then we need to move fast. I too want to find Peter, but if he entered the unseen world his life is in danger.’
‘From what?’
‘From creatures you could never imagine. He could be killed,’ Edgar explained with no emotion. ‘Or worse than that.’
‘What could be worse than being dead?’ asked Joe with a laugh
‘The Faerie Queen may realise how useful Peter could be and use him to show her the way into the human world which she wants to rule for herself and then we would all be doomed.’
‘So if the Faeries can’t get into this world, how do those small creatures that Peter talks to get to be here? Do they go between the worlds?’
‘Sprites are small creatures that live in both worlds but don’t cross between the two. The ones that Peter talks to have probably lived here for a long time, and more likely been friends to Peter since he was a child. Maybe they were Peter’s imaginary friends?’
‘So can’t we just go in and take him out of the unseen world?' said Joe.
‘It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. I don’t know how to get in. Peter is the only child of the last living line of families that posses The Sight. Without him we can’t see the entrance.’
‘What about his grandmother? You said she had The Sight before Peter,’ said Joe, desperately trying to think of a way to get Peter back.
‘She does but age has blinded her and she can no longer see anything but blurred clouded shapes.’
‘What about the silver twig you mentioned?’
‘The Silver Bough. There are only clues as to its whereabouts, but so far no one has found it. My brother, the Earl of Rosslyn, who was also one of the White Knights, was the sacred guardian of the Silver Bough and he too died last year. His tomb is held in the vaults beneath Edinburgh Castle’
Joe wandered aimlessly around the large stones, kicking at the loose gravel around his feet. He still couldn’t quite believe what Edgar was telling him. It was a tale of fantasy and imagination, but some of what he said about Peter seemed to make sense.
He looked over to Edgar, who stood watching him whilst he leant on his twisted stick. The daylight glinted in his silver beard.
‘Can you prove anything you’ve said?' asked Joe finally.
Sir Edgar nodded his head.
‘Meet me at the graveyard in one hour and I will show you. Bring your friends too. I will need your help if we are to stand any chance of getting Peter back.’ With that the old knight turned his back on Joe and walked towards the outside of the circle, leaving him a clear route to his bike and his way out.
12. The Box of Rocks
Steven had arranged for Georgia to meet him outside the pub where she had dropped him the evening before. She drove over to the house of Mr McRae, the man who had found the original meteorite, who lived in an old water mill on the outskirts of town, then she waited in the car.
The building was old, the roof sagged in places and the white paint on the wood-panelled sides was blistering and peeling off. The half submerged wheel of the water mill didn't look like it had been used for some time from the amount of plants and mosses that were growing in the crevices between the wooden paddles.
Steven knocked loudly on the glass of the side entrance door and waited for someone to come. Eventually the round figure of an elderly woman wearing a bright floral patterned dress with a faded apron over the top came to the door and opened it slightly. Her thinning hair was wound in tight curls and the circular glasses that balanced on top of her two red cheeks looked like they were floating in mid air.
‘Good morning, Mrs McRae. I’m Steven Knight, from the National Meteorite Society,’ he lied. ‘I wonder if I could ask a few questions about the meteorite that you found?’ He had been thinking about what to say before he arrived and decided it would be better not to tell the McRaes anything about the bacteria.
‘You better talk to my husband,’ she replied grumpily as she opened the door wider and moved aside to let him in. ‘He’s out in his greenhouse as usual,’ she pointed through the kitchen to the back door then walked slowly back into the lounge; Steven had obviously disturbed her daytime television viewing.
‘And tell him he needs to clean out the dishwasher!’ she shouted from the other room.
Steven left the kitchen, which smelt strongly of cat food, and crossed a bit of wooden decking over the last section of river water to a secret garden behind the mill on the northern side of the river. The lawn was perfectly cut and beautifully flat and it was surrounded by densely packed borders of coloured flowers. There were small sections of rocks with tiny plants growing out of every crevice and benches placed at carefully chosen positions to get the best views. As Steven walked onto the grass, he could see the top of the greenhouse pointing up above an old stone wall, so headed in that direction. In the middle of the wall was an archway with an old twisted plant growing around it. From its leaves hung small pale blue flowers that gave off a sweet smell as Steven walked beneath them.
Inside the greenhouse, Steven could see the shape of an elderly man standing over rows of black trays, pushing seeds deep into the compost then patting them gently down. He looked up, saw Steven and gave a friendly wave, despite not knowing who Steven was; very different to his wife. His smiling face had some colour in it, probably from spending so much time in his garden.
‘Good morning, Sir,’ shouted Mr McRae from inside the greenhouse, ‘come on in.’ He slid one of the glass doors across to let Steven in.
‘I’m Steven Knight from the National Meteorite Society,’ lied Steven once again as he held his hand out. ‘You must be Mr McRae?’
‘Call me George,’ he replied shaking Steven’s hand. ‘I suppose you’re here about the meteorite I found then are you?’
Steven nodded as he looked around at the homemade wooden shelves and the rows of seed trays lined up on them. He could feel the warm damp air inside the greenhouse already making his forehead sweat.
‘Well, if you look above your head, you’ll see where it came in,’ instructed Mr McRae in a Scottish accent.
Steven looked up to a window in the roof of the greenhouse that was now patched up by a plastic carrier bag and some parcel tape where something had obviously come through.
‘It happened a couple of months ago. I was lying in my bed reading when I heard that glass break. Thought it might be kids at first, so I came out to have a look but there was no one here at all. Saw a few lights in the sky but nothing else. Next morning I saw a big rock sitting on the floor there, cracked in two. It even chipped my paving slab. From what it looked like in the middle, it didn’t look like a normal stone so I took it over to a friend of mine at the museum in Harrogate for him to take a look. Said it was a meteor from the shower we had. I've found some others since.’
Steven was already familiar with the story of discovery, but Mr McRae’s last words made him look up with surprise.
‘Other meteorites? How many?' he asked.
‘I dunno, not counted them, but I put them in a box in my shed. When you know what you’re looking for you find the little rascals everywhere. Nearly broke the blades on my lawnmower a few times. Found some others in my flowerbeds. Even found a couple in the algae when I was clearing out around the edge of the river.’
‘Would you mind if I had a look at them please George?’ Sir Adam would be pleased with Steven for finding these other examples, even if they didn’t contain the same bacteria as the original one.
‘You can take them away with you if you like. I noticed they must have metal in them, magnets stick to them you know?’ He wiped his hands on a dirty towel and walked out of the greenhouse followed by Steven. At the far end of the garden tucked away behind some trees in a more shaded area was the shed.
Steven stood and waited patiently outside as there was obviously not enough room in the shed
for the both of them. After several seconds a voice from inside said, ‘here we are,’ and Mr McRae came out carrying a shoe box with a bent lid. They sat on one of the benches and opened the box. Inside were five meteorites all of differing sizes but similar in colour to the one Steven had seen inside MI6. After a brief look at the box of rocks, he could tell that none of them were split open which reassured him that if there was bacteria in these rocks it was contained within. As Steven examined one in his hand, he realised that there wasn’t much difference from a normal rock except for the flecks of iron on the crusted surface and the fact that it was heavier. Steven knew that he would have to get these samples back to MI6 for testing to see if they contained the same bacteria as the original one.
Thinking of the next part of his investigation, Steven turned his attention away from the box of meteorites sitting on his lap.
‘Who owns the land around yours?' asked Steven.
‘It’s mainly public land? There are footpaths criss-crossing all over it. Beyond that is Baxley Farm. Richard Baxley mainly has cows, famous for it round here he is. There’s a small lay-by further up the road where walkers leave their cars if you want to have a look over there?’
They both stood up and Steven started to talk to Mr McRae about the plants and flowers in his garden just to be polite, but soon they were disturbed by the loud voice of Mrs McRae calling her husband inside to start on a list of jobs that needed to be done.
As he walked through the kitchen, Steven lifted the box of meteorites up and said, ‘Thanks for these. If you find any more, I’m staying at the Fox and Hound Pub in town for a few days.’ With that they parted and Steven went and sat in the passenger seat of the car.
Whilst Georgia started the engine, Steven opened the box again and started to take another look at the meteorites.
‘Have we got a metal detector?' he asked her.
13. Proof of Identity
An hour later Joe met Max and Scarlet at the tree top platform in the woodland overlooking the river that the three of them had visited the day before. He had told them both of how the symbol took him to the Faerie Ring and about the conversation he had had with Sir Edgar.
‘It seems a bit far fetched to me,’ said Max.
‘What’s happening now?' Joe asked Scarlet who had the binoculars trained on the graveyard as well as the church. When they arrived, there was already a police car parked on the verge outside the church so they had decided to continue straight to the hideout in the woods.
‘Any sign of Sir Edgar yet?’
‘No. Hang on. I think I've got him. He’s hidden in the undergrowth on the opposite side of the road. The brown suit he wears camouflages him well.’
‘Let me see,’ Joe took the binoculars from Scarlet, ‘yes that’s him.’
‘If he’s got nothing to hide, why doesn’t he just go up to the police and tell them what he told you?' said Max.
‘If we are having trouble believing him, I don’t think anyone else will either,’ replied Joe. ‘Wait, he’s walking away now towards town.’
A policeman was unrolling a tape between two posts as a sign to prevent anyone from entering the graveyard. He didn’t seem to take any notice of the old man as he walked past leaning on his stick.
Nothing else happened until two figures emerged from the church. ‘That looks like your dad,’ Max said to Joe, ‘who’s that woman he’s talking to?’
Joe refocused the binoculars towards the entrance of the church where his father and a woman were talking. It looked like she was crying.
‘It must be Peter’s mum. There are also some other policemen taking samples of the slime from the blanket and it looks like Mrs Merchant is not very happy about all these things happening in the church.
‘Good day to you all,’ came the polite voice of Sir Edgar as he appeared in the hole beside the tree trunk.
Both Scarlet and Max gave a little squeak in surprise as they stared at the old man as he nimbly lifted himself through the hole and sat on the platform with the children. They all shuffled away from him slightly, still unsure whether they trusted him yet, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, apart from over the edge of the platform.
‘I thought you had called the police when I saw them in the graveyard,’ he said to Joe, ‘but then I spotted the light reflecting off the lens of your binoculars from up here. I presume our friend has updated the two of you on what we talked about earlier.’
Scarlet and Max both nodded together at the same time.
‘Good, well you wanted proof and I have it for you. All I can do is put the facts before you and let you make up your own minds,' continued Edgar as he removed a metal tube from his jacket. He unscrewed the top from the tube and placed a roll of coarse yellow cloth in front of them, gently untying the string around it and carefully opening it out. Inside the cloth were several pieces of yellow brown paper, the edges worn and soft with age and slightly torn in places. All three of the children stared down at the top paper. There was an ornate border of entwined coloured patterns around a block of writing that none of them could understand. At the top of the paper was a large unrecognisable letter similar to the writing that Joe had already seen inscribed on the stones at The Faerie Ring. This letter gleamed with gold still polished and shiny, despite the dullness of the paper it was drawn on. At the bottom of the page a thick red waxy circle was indented with a shield containing three crowns within.
'This is the Order to Service from King Arthur to myself,' Edgar traced some of the letters with his finger as he talked, 'asking for my trust and loyalty to protect England with my life. At the bottom here,' this time he pointed at the red wax, 'is where Arthur Pendragon's ring was impressed into the wax.'
They all peered over the sheet of paper, not daring to touch it in case it should disintegrate. Edgar carefully lifted it like it was a newborn baby, to rest safely by his side. The second piece of paper looked like it had a drawing of a complex tree with branches and leaves around the outside, but within its branches were small names joined together by fine lines.
'This is the Shipley family tree,’ explained Edgar. ‘The surnames have changed over the years as different generations of children married into other families, but here you can see your friend Peter Crisp, his parents and grandparents and so on. Those with a flower next to their names are those that have the gift of The Sight. All of the family have died out over the years except on Peter’s side and he is the last. My fellow Knights and I have watched over every one of them during their lifetime.’
Edgar turned the piece of paper around so that his audience could all see clearly what he was talking about before continuing. ‘We all had a part of the family to look after, but my brother Sir Hadwyn, Earl of Rosslyn, the bravest and purest of the four, also had charge of the Silver Bough.'
‘These papers all look impressive but anyone could have made these or bought them from somewhere, and we can’t even read what that says,’ said Max bravely pointing to the paper with the wax seal on, ‘so we still don’t know if you’re telling us the truth and we still don’t know where Peter is.’
‘This is true,’ replied Edgar patiently, ‘but maybe these will help convince you of my age and then, maybe you will believe the rest of what I say to be true.’
Sir Edgar now carefully lifted the family tree so that it was resting on top of the Order to Service to reveal some smaller pieces of paper. Edgar picked up the first piece and passed it to Joe who was sitting to his right.
‘This is a copy of a page taken from an ancient book called Historia Brittonum which was written over one thousand years ago. It means “The History of the Britons” and in Chapter 56 the twelve battles of King Arthur are documented along with the names of the Knights of the Round Table as well as myself, Edgar Gorlois, Duke of Tintagel.’ Although the writing appeared slightly different to normal English, Joe could make out the letters that made up Edgar’s name amongst the rest of the text.
‘Are there any pictures of you with Arthu
r?' asked Scarlet, trying to think of a way to convince both herself and Joe.
‘No,’ replied Edgar shaking his head. ‘Any illustrations showing King Arthur were done at a later date after he was dead and were based on the imagination of the illustrator and not fact. But, you may find this helps you believe what I say.’ Edgar passed an old photograph to Max, ‘this is an old photograph of all the staff at the Rolls Royce factory in Derby in 1908. I worked there until 1914 and if you look on the back row you can see me. Even if you don’t believe that I was alive in King Arthur’s time, you must agree that if that was me in 1908, I would certainly be dead by now.’
Max looked carefully at the picture. It was a brown photograph with one or two black spots on it and showed a group of men; the front row, who were obviously more senior, sat on chairs in their best suits with top hats, whilst the rest of the workers stood behind wearing identical brown suits, shirts and ties. At the back on the right hand side of the picture was a man with a short grey beard which Max had to admit looked a lot like Sir Edgar. He stood tall and stiff, looking directly at the camera and didn’t appear to be any different to the man that was sat in front of them.
‘It really does look like you!' said Scarlet who had been looking over Max’s shoulder. Max remained silent.
Edgar passed another photograph to Scarlet. ‘This is me in the Home Guard in 1942 during the second World War. I was too old to join the regular army so volunteered for the Home Guard ready to defend Britain in case of invasion by Germany.’
Scarlet examined the photograph closely scanning the three rows of soldiers in their uniforms until she came across the now familiar face. Standing once again at the back was Edgar but this time he was clean shaven but there was still the sharp intense look in his eyes as he stared out of the black and white photograph from beneath his cloth cap.
‘You must admit it, Max, there’s no way he could have been in those photographs on those dates unless he was actually there. Edgar could be who he says he is’ said Joe to his friend.
‘Maybe,’ was all Max would say.
‘If he’s telling the truth about his age, he has no reason to lie to us about Faeries and the unseen world. If my believing Edgar can do something to help find Peter, then I’m willing to take a chance,’ said Joe defiantly.
‘I want to help too,’ said Scarlet.
There was silence from Max. They all looked at him, his head down not wishing to look any of them in the eye. ‘Alright,’ he grudgingly said. ‘I’ll do it,’ he agreed, still unconvinced, ‘but how do you think we can find him, especially if he really has gone into another world?’
‘Edgar said that the only way to get into the unseen world is by having The Sight, the Silver Bough or an invitation, so the only real way for us to gain access is to find the Silver Bough and go through the portal to bring Peter back.’
‘Can’t we get someone else to do it, like the army or something?' said Max trying to think of excuses.
‘They won’t believe us,’ Joe said, ‘and we can probably get in without being noticed, whereas an army wouldn’t be able to do that.’
Sir Edgar coughed politely trying to get the attention of Max and Joe. ‘You’re forgetting one important thing,’ he said. ‘We don’t have the Silver Bough.’
‘No, but your brother did,’ replied Joe excitedly. ‘You said that his remains are in a tomb beneath Edinburgh Castle. If he was sworn to protect the Silver Bough, he would have either taken it to the grave with him or left some sort of instructions for its safe keeping. Think about what most people would do with something valuable if you were to die; you would leave a will or instructions for someone you trusted to keep it safe.’
‘That’s true,’ said Scarlet as they all nodded.
‘When did the other White Knights die?' Joe asked Edgar.
Edgar thought hard about Joe’s question, trying to recall from the numerous volume of events stored inside his head the exact information. ‘Sir Cenweard was the first to die in London back in 1665 from the Black Death and Sir Aldwyn was killed in 1832 by the sword of a highwayman in Surrey after he tried to defend a lady from being robbed. Sir Hadwyn died from Pneumonia during last year’s cold Scottish winter.’
‘So if Sir Hadwyn also knew about the deaths of the other knights, he would likely hide the thing he’s been protecting all of his life. And if he knew that you Sir Edgar were the last surviving White Knight, he may have left you instructions where to find the Silver Bough and continue what he started. We need to go to Edinburgh Castle.’
14. A Gruesome Discovery
After a quick visit to the local hardware store out of town, Steven and Georgia made their way to the lay-by that Mr McRae had mentioned. They pulled off the main road and onto a chalky surface that was roughly marked out in parking spaces. Georgia parked the car in a cloud of dust that had been kicked up by the tyres, beside two other cars that were already there. Beyond the wooden fence that separated the road from the grass and trees, a sign directed walkers across different public footpaths.
Opening the boot of the car Steven reached in and removed the metal detector from its packaging as well as a shiny new spade. Georgia lifted out a small square canvas box and lengthened the wide fabric strap so that she could carry it on her shoulder, then unfolded a map. Today Georgia had changed the brown suit for something more practical and wore a fleece and jeans together with a pair of trainers.
‘Ready?’ asked Steven.
As they walked through an opening in the fence and onto a well worn track which led into the woodland, Steven noticed a fourth car that crept slowly into the car park, there was something familiar about the driver and the suit he was wearing didn’t look practical for walking or sightseeing. They crossed the river via a wooden bridge with no handrails; the thick bulrushes reached up high on both sides, hiding the water. A couple of serious walkers wearing boots and backpacks strode energetically in the opposite direction as they followed the path deeper into the woods to the land behind Mr McRae’s property.
Once they were there, they sat on a fallen tree trunk and began to plan their project.
‘So, we are here,’ said Georgia pointing to an area on the map. She marked a small cross onto the map with a red pen. ‘If we walk through the woodland and start here,’ she pointed to another spot and made a second cross, ‘that is the boundary of the wood where it meets Mr McRae’s land. If you swing the metal detector from side to side as you walk you should be able to cover a width of at least a meter.’
They picked their way off the footpath and into woodland that had not been trampled down by the heavy boots of numerous walkers. The small branches of trees also appeared to grow lower here and they would often have to duck slightly or snap them off to make their way through.
Georgia carefully navigated their way by constantly referring to her map as well as a small compass she carried in the palm of her hand. Once they had arrived at the point where the second cross was on Georgia’s map, Steven turned the metal detector on and began walking in a straight line. He swept the metal detector in front of him from one side to the other under the watchful eye of Georgia and her map, making sure that he continued in the right direction.
Occasionally a high pitched squeal would cut through the gentle hum made by the metal detector as it passed over a metallic object, but it uncovered nothing more significant than an old tin can or a few coins. Each time Steven walked up and down, Georgia marked it on the map and by the end of two hours they had found two other meteorites similar in size to the ones from Mr McRae’s garden. They carefully stored them inside Georgia’s canvas bag then decided to try a different section of woodland beside the river.
Once again they began searching in a methodical way, all the time referring back to the map. Whilst Steven started walking along the river edge swinging the detector from side to side, Georgia removed two clear plastic sample tubes from her bag and took them down to the river to take some water for testing. She knelt down at the edge o
f the river bank and leant forward. The thickness of the reeds and bulrushes in front of her hid the water below so she had to hold them apart with her other hand like she was parting hair. The water quickly filled the plastic tube. She tightly screwed the top on then held it up to the sky, looking at the little bits floating in the green coloured water.
She stood up and checked on Steven’s progress before moving further up the river to take a second sample. As she parted the reeds, she saw what looked like a soggy bundle of clothes slightly further out that must have become caught up in the reeds against the flow of water. She took her water sample as before then walked back towards the nearest tree and snapped a branch from it. Using the branch she reached out over the water and managed to hook it onto the bundle of clothes then leant backwards and began pulling using all of her body weight against the resistance of the wet clothes. Suddenly the clothing came away from the reeds and Georgia slipped backwards falling onto her back.
Amongst the reeds she was now staring at something more than just clothes.
A disfigured hand reached out of the water.
At first she was confused. The hand looked larger than she thought it should do, almost like it had sucked in lots of the river water and Georgia thought for a short moment that it was not real at all. The skin appeared white and waxy, but there were patches of it missing which revealed the grey-brown flesh beneath the skin. The edges of these missing patches were uneven and thicker, almost like it had been melted away to the fleshy meat beneath. As an operative assistant Georgia had never actually seen a dead body before, she was much more used to writing reports and doing research.
‘Steven!’ She said in a broken voice as she tried to take deep breaths of air into her lungs. She couldn’t help but keep staring at the hand and its ghostly white fingernails. It grasped at the air, fixed in a disfigured grip like the hooked talons of an eagle clawing at its prey.
‘Steven!’ Georgia said once again more desperately without looking round.
‘What is it?’ he asked casually as he strolled up beside her. ‘Have you found another meteorite?’
Georgia pointed a shaking finger towards the river. Steven followed the direction she was pointing in and saw the hand reaching out of the water. A cold shiver went through his body followed by a wave of sickness as his stomach tightened, but his mind stayed alert and soon instructed his body what it needed to do. He pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and called the police immediately, then helped Georgia onto her feet and slowly moved her further up the bank out of sight of the hand. He sat down closely next to Georgia, put his arm around her still shaking shoulders and waited for the police to arrive.
15. Unlocking the Key
That afternoon Sir Edgar and the children arrived on the train to a rain soaked Edinburgh. The sky was dark grey and the damp clung to their clothes making them feel cold and heavy to wear. Each of the children had told the same lie to their parents that they were going to stay over at a friend’s house that night but had secretly agreed to meet up with Edgar at the local train station to get the connection to Harrogate then on to Edinburgh.
They spotted Edinburgh Castle high up on the hill as the train approached Waverley Station and now they stood waiting to get in along with the other tourists. Once they had their tickets, they walked across a bridge and through a tall gatehouse with two rigid stone statues standing guard either side of the entrance. The stone walls of the castle appeared grey and black, soaked by the rain-water which also made some of the well worn flagstones smooth and slippery to walk on.
They continued to walk up a grey stone slope with the walls high around them making them feel like they were walking along a small street through an old town. Ahead they could see another archway to walk through which seemed to form the foundations to a house.
‘Wait here,’ said Edgar and he dashed through a red door without any explanation.
The children stood to the side of the walkway feeling slightly nervous about suddenly being left on their own in such an unfamiliar place. The other tourists walked slowly past them pointing at the different parts of the castle as they went. Max couldn’t help but feel guilty that he was here without his parents' permission and the inside of his stomach felt like a tight knot. He hadn’t been able to eat any lunch and was beginning to feel sick.
Suddenly Edgar came out of the red door with a guide-book in his hands.
‘Won’t get far without this,’ he said cheerfully opening it to a map of the castle.
‘Haven’t you been here before then?' asked Joe as they continued towards the next gate.
‘Yes, just the once, but that was in 1566.’ One of the tourists turned round and looked disbelievingly at Edgar who seemed oblivious to their stares and continued. ‘My brother had been working as a Captain in the Scottish Royal Guard for Queen Marie de Guise until her death in 1560. He then continued under the employment of her daughter, Mary Queen of Scots, who seemed to look favourably on Hadwyn and promoted him to Major. This allowed him certain freedom and privileges with Mary and at the birth of her son James in 1566 he was allowed to invite me to join in the celebrations held here inside the Royal Palace.’
They continued to walk through the stone archway and underneath a metal portcullis which, when lowered, would have kept out any invading force, but today allowed the friendly tourists to roam freely about the castle grounds. As they came through the dark tunnel and into the light again, the area opened up to reveal a series of black guns pointing out of small gaps in the thick stone wall and over the castle bank below.
‘It’s all changed so much since that time,’ continued Edgar thoughtfully. ‘It was a working castle back then. Around here lots of soldiers would be parading and practising at regular intervals. Even sheep and pigs would be running round freely and if you didn’t see them, you could certainly smell them. It was like a small enclosed town, self-sufficient and heavily protected.’
A loud bang unexpectedly ripped through the air in front of them, followed by a plume of white smoke which looked bright and clean in comparison to the grey clouds that hovered low around the castle. They all instinctively reached up to protect their ears from the noise, but there were no further explosions. Ahead they could see the long black barrel of the gun that had just been fired.
‘Who are they shooting at?' asked Max nervously.
‘That’s one thing that hasn’t changed,’ Edgar exclaimed excitedly. ‘It’s called the One o’clock gun and it’s fired every day at one and has done since Mary’s days. It’s sort of like a clock so that ships in the Firth of Forth knew what time it was.’
Edgar passed some sandwiches round whilst they stood looking at the view over the roof tops of Edinburgh which was limited because of the weather. After a few minutes Edgar was eager to continue.
‘Next stop is Saint Margaret’s Chapel, just up there,’ he said pointing up a grass bank where grey rocks poked out from within.
They all followed Edgar along the shiny grey stone surface as it curved upwards and under yet another archway. As they entered an open area, ahead of them they could see a very plain square stone building with a name plate telling them that this was Saint Margaret’s Chapel.
Edgar strode through the doorway followed closely by the three children. Inside was just one room. The chapel walls were all painted white and there were small wooden seats running along both sides of the outer walls. At the far end was a separate section through a stone archway that was supported by carved pillars. The table beyond the arch was covered with an ornate purple and cream coloured cloth and a small stained glass window cast what little light it could into the chapel, relying on modern day electrical lighting to see clearly. Inside, a group of American tourists were admiring the stained glass at the far end whilst Edgar and the children waited patiently around the doorway.
‘Is this where Hadwyn’s tomb is?’ whispered Max to Edgar, hoping that the day would end soon and he could get back to Parsley Bottom before anyone noticed he
wasn’t where he should be.
‘No,’ replied Edgar as if Max should have known better, ‘this is where the key to Hadwyn’s tomb is kept.’
Edgar pretended to be studying the roof inside the chapel whilst he waited for the Americans to leave. Eventually they made their way to the doorway and exited the building leaving Edgar and the children alone.
‘You two stand next to the door and let me know if anyone comes in this direction,’ Edgar instructed to Max and Scarlet as he moved further down the chapel towards the archway. Joe watched as Edgar lifted one of the small wooden benches and positioned it beneath the centre of the arch at the far end. Standing on top of the bench he was now tracing his fingertips along the zigzag pattern that was carved in the arch and counting quietly under his breath. Reaching into his trouser pocket he removed a small penknife and began to scratch away some of the dirt and cement from underneath one of the sections. After a very short amount of time the sound of the knife scraping on the stone beneath changed as the blade slid deeper between two flat surfaces.
Edgar let out a laugh of relief which echoed inside the chapel. Joe stood directly beneath Edgar and was watching closely.
‘What are you doing?' asked Joe.
Edgar looked down to Joe, then across to the door where Max and Scarlet were standing, but neither of them was watching out for tourists; they had been curious to watch Edgar too.
‘Keep watch. We can’t have anyone coming in while I retrieve the key,’ he instructed to his two guards at the door.
To Joe he said: ‘Twenty-five is an important number relating to King Arthur. In Winchester Castle hangs a wooden table painted with the names of the twenty-five knights from King Arthur’s court. You may know it as the Round Table. In order to retrieve the key I need to press the correct stones to release a hidden drawer.’
Edgar pointed at the pattern that joined one side of the arch to the other then continued to scratch a groove all around the stone he had already started until the blade slid freely all the way around it.
‘This stone represents the twenty-five knights that stood on the right side of King Arthur. We also need the ninth stone from the left,’ explained Edgar as he counted across from the left-hand side. ‘King Arthur was one of the “Nine Valiants.” These were a group of nine figures who best demonstrated the values of chivalry and became role models for all medieval knights. The Nine Valiants can be seen in paintings and tapestries, and even in the Houses of Parliament in London.’
‘What were the values of chivalry?’
‘Being a good Knight is about showing mercy and courage and protecting the innocent, the weak and the poor. You should be prepared to give your life for another and be the champion for good against all evils. They must also be gentle and gracious to women. But what truly makes a Knight is what’s inside you here.’ Edgar stopped scratching at the stone-work and reached down and placed a hand on Joe’s chest. Joe could feel his heart thumping as well as the heat radiating from Edgar’s hand through his shirt.
‘When the time comes, you will understand exactly what is inside you,’ Edgar whispered.
‘Quick!’ said Scarlet from the door. ‘Some people are coming this way!’
Edgar hadn’t taken his eyes off Joe and as he removed his hand from his chest he nodded slightly. Joe began to wonder what Edgar knew about him.
Swiftly, Edgar jumped down from the wooden bench and bowed his head in prayer just as a tour guide led a group of visitors through the chapel door. All that the tourists saw was an elderly man sat on a bench, too old and frail to kneel on the floor, silently in prayer with a young boy beside him doing the same. None of the group thought there was anything unusual in the scene as the tour guide continued his explanation about the history of the building, never noticing that a couple of stones in the archway above their heads now appeared looser than the rest.
Waiting patiently, Edgar remained in the same position even as the group of tourists stood behind him looking through to the stained glass window beyond. As soon as they had left the building he jumped back on the bench and continued scraping away at the ninth stone. As the blade inserted itself around the stone triangle Joe could see that the stone had now become loose.
‘Ready?’ said Edgar to Joe with a wink.
Joe nodded whilst holding his breath at the same time. Edgar reached out and placed his left hand on the ninth stone and the right on the twenty fifth and pushed them both into the archway. The stones slid in with a hard dry grinding noise, a slight low vibration rumbled through the archway and in the second tier of stones a darker keystone clicked out slightly further than the rest as if released by a spring. Edgar grasped the stone and pulled it out further, then reached inside. He then pushed the keystone back into place and the other two stones returned back to their original position.
He stepped down off the bench and opened his hand for Joe to look at the key. In the palm of his hand was an aged silver pocket-watch, slightly scratched and dull in colour, even the hands of the watch didn’t appear to be moving and were stuck at five o’clock. Joe looked at Edgar with confusion. He thought they were finding the key to Hadwyn’s tomb, but instead they had a watch.
Edgar quickly closed his hand and put the watch into his pocket whilst smiling at Joe.
16. Sir Hadwyn’s Inscription
Sir Edgar and the children left Saint Margaret’s Chapel and walked back the way they had come, through the small archway and round beside the Military Prison. As they went through the doorway, they waited for a few seconds to give their eyes time to adjust to the darkness inside.
As they descended the stone steps, they could feel the temperature getting colder as they went further down into the rock beneath the castle. The stone walls got damper the lower they went and were lit by electric lights shining against the rock causing green algae to form. At the bottom of the steps, they walked along a narrow passage. The children couldn’t see past Edgar who was at the front of the procession so they all followed as closely as they could without tripping each other up. Apart from the sound of their shoes sliding over the grainy floor, they couldn’t hear any other tourists in this part of the castle as it was not part of the official tour.
Edgar held his hand up to stop the children from walking into the back of him. He had stopped at a rusty iron gate that prevented anyone from going any further. Hanging across the bolt that drove into the wall was a modern looking lock, holding it securely closed. Edgar picked it up in his hands and examined it.
‘Won’t your pocket watch open this then?' said Max sarcastically.
‘Can I borrow your pen-knife?' Joe asked Edgar as he looked at the rusted hinges fastened into the damp stone. Edgar passed it to him and with a little persuasion from the knife; Joe managed to loosen the pins from the barrel of the hinge so that Edgar could lift the gate and move it out of their way.
They continued along the passage once again. On the right they passed a series of rooms, one of which Max managed to look inside. It appeared to be a plain square room with a curved roof and a wooden frame along the side wall from which hung several hammocks.
‘This leads to the vaults underneath the castle,’ explained Edgar. ‘They’ve been used in the past for many different reasons. Merchants stored wine and goods here, some families lived in them at times and they have even been used as a soldiers' barracks and a prison at one time.’
The corridor appeared to be getting narrower as well as lower in height as they continued along it. There was no electrical lighting in this part of the vault and Edgar was relying on the light from the torch that he carried in front of him. Because of his height Edgar permanently held his head lower and kept ducking as they passed beneath thick stone arches.
Eventually they came to a circular chamber where two other passageways met with the one they had just come down. Here they could all stand upright as the ceiling was a lot higher than in the other passageways; in fact, high above them, there appeared to be a shaft of daylight coming d
own towards them.
‘We are directly under the Royal Palace,’ said Edgar, noticing the children looking up.
The beam from the torch cast strange shapes and movements on the circular walls that surrounded them all. Edgar swung the torch towards the ground and started to kick away at the loose dust that covered the floor. At the entrance to one of the other passageways he found what he was looking for and was now kneeling on the floor brushing the dirt away with his fingers. The children crowded round to have a look.
‘What’s that?' asked Joe who noticed that there was a symbol carved into the large flat stone that marked the start to one of the other tunnels.
‘It’s King Arthur’s crown and shows us the way to Sir Hadwyn’s tomb. It’s the same as the one I showed you from King Arthur’s ring imprint that was in the wax seal on my Order to Service,’ explained Edgar as he stood and walked through the archway and into the next passage.
The children followed without asking any more questions until they reached a perfectly round smooth surfaced stone that was fixed behind two thick but short columns of stone on both sides, blocking the passage.
‘Maybe we took a wrong turn,’ said Max with a nervous laugh.
Edgar was now examining the circular stone as closely as he had the floor at the entrance of the passage. In the centre was a small hole. He blew dust from the hole, then reached into his pocket and retrieved the watch he had found in the chapel. Carefully he unscrewed the back of the watch and blew into the mechanism releasing a small white cloud of dust to sparkle in the light from the torch. Edgar licked his lips with anticipation, hoping that the key worked the way it should otherwise there would be no other way to get into the tomb. He then unscrewed the glass dome from the front of the watch. What he now held in his hands didn’t truly resemble a pocket watch at all. There was a silver band of metal around the edge with blackened metal cogs and gears exposed behind the white enamelled clock face. The two silver hands pointed out at a fragile angle secured to the clock face by a thin metal pin. Edgar gently slid the skeleton of the watch into the hole at the centre of the stone until there was a very faint click.
‘When the cogs at the back of the watch are put in the correct position, they will activate the mechanism behind the stone,’ Edgar whispered to the children. ‘The twenty-five Knights of the Round Table are represented by twenty-five minutes or the number five on a clock face. Nine for the Nine Valiants for the hour hand.’
With his index finger he then carefully rotated the minute hand clockwise until it was on the number five, then the hour hand anticlockwise to the number nine. Then he held his breath.
Everyone stared at the circular stone and waited for something to happen.
At first there was a very faint clicking followed by a hissing sound like sand was draining into a container. Finally the stone started to rotate to the right and rumbled into the side of the passage wall to reveal the tomb’s outer chamber. Directly ahead of them were two stone columns supporting a carved beam decorated with animals and writing. Beside the columns were two lions intricately carved into the white stone and appearing to support the weight of the beam on their clawed feet whilst surrounded by an assortment of serpents and mythical creatures winding their way around the borders and edges.
Edgar stepped into the chamber. The air smelt cold and stale and the breeze that he created by stepping onto the floor dislodged loose dust from the surface to swirl around his feet like mist on the sea. Edgar walked very carefully, checking everywhere he placed his feet, until he passed between the two columns.
In front of him was the tomb of Sir Hadwyn; a giant stone box with five figures carved into the side supported a life size stone carving of Sir Hadwyn, his hands peacefully resting on his chest with the hilt of his sword beneath. The blade continued down the centre of his body until it was hidden from view behind the shield which rested on his left side.
As the children entered the chamber from behind, Edgar knelt down to one knee and remained silent for a minute.
‘Is this Sir Hadwyn?' asked Joe gently.
Edgar looked up and gave a nod of his head while Scarlet put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Max remained next to the stone columns feeling uncomfortable about being there.
‘Look,’ said Joe pointing at the five smaller knights on the stone box, ‘one of these knights has your name engraved on it.’
Along the side of the box five knights stood with swords in their hands looking strong and brave. Beneath the feet of each knight was a carved name plate: Arthur, Ceneard, Aldwyn, Hadwyn, Edgar.
‘King Arthur and The League of White Knights,’ Edgar said proudly.
The figure of Arthur was different from the rest by the crown he wore as well as the more richly decorated armour, whilst the four white knights wore the same as each other, except for Edgar who held a shield in his left hand.
‘Why are you the only one holding a shield?' asked Scarlet.
Edgar looked at the figures trying to work out why he was carved differently to the other knights.
‘The shield must be relevant in some way,’ said Joe. ‘Maybe Sir Hadwyn left you a clue.’
Joe leant over the top of the tomb and studied the figure of Sir Hadwyn and the large shield he held.
‘Here!’ said Joe excitedly, ‘around the edge, there’s a message. It looks like the same type of writing that’s on the stones in the Faerie Ring,’ Joe’s voice echoed slightly inside the empty chamber.
Edgar stood up, looked over Joe’s shoulder, then began moving his finger along the pattern of letters whispering words to himself.