Read Online Anne Barbour by Lady Hilarys Halloween - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lady Hilarys Halloween
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the shaft was a hunting scene, portraying hounds closing in on an agile wolf. The detail was remarkable, the workmanship exquisite. The conclusion to be drawn from the knife, in its authentic construction and materials, was inescapable.
“All right,” James said at last, almost breathless with the implication of his words. “I believe you have been transferred from the end of the first century to this present year of 1817. The question now, I suppose, is how did you get here? And how do we return you to your proper time?”
“Oh, I know that,” replied Rufus, almost offhandedly. “At least, the part about how I got here.”
Chapter Six
“What?” gasped Hilary and James in unison. “It was the old Druid,” asserted Rufus, helping himself to a sandwich after a cautious perusal of the tray and its contents. “It must have been.”
“What old Druid?” Again, his listeners spoke as one.
“He lives in a little cave near the tower. Crotchety old buzzard. Says he’s the Guardian of the Stones. You know, the circle where the tower sits.”
Hilary nodded in fascination.
“At any rate, I understand he nearly foamed at the mouth when the tower was built. Sacrilege, he screamed. Claimed it was due to his curses that the thing was never finished. When I met him— when our lads showed up to begin removing the stones—he flew into a rage. Mm, what is this? Some kind of ham? It’s good, but how do you slice the bread so thin? Anyway, since I was in charge of the detail, he turned his temper on me. Told me to take my pack of desecrating savages and leave. Can you believe? That filthy old heathen calling Roman soldiers savages? I sorted him out in brief order, of course. Every day, though, he’s shown up at the fifth hour or so, hurling curses and making a general nuisance of himself. Yesterday, I finally cuffed him up the side of his head and told him to push off. He swelled up like a poisoned pig and let loose with what must have been the biggest, ugliest curse in his bag of tricks. Then, he just shuffled off.
“I think, though,” he concluded, “that the old gopher’s incantation must have held more juice than I credited him for. I mean, here I am.”
“Indeed,” said James, unable to control the broad smile that spread across his features. What a find! The old warrior’s theory on the cause of his remarkable journey was ludicrous, but no matter. The important thing was the journey itself. He, James Wincanon, most ordinary of mortals, was actually entertaining in his study a denizen of first-century Roman Britain. What unimaginable nuggets of information could be gleaned from this citizen of the ancient empire? Why, Rufus could no doubt provide him with more information on the Roman occupation of Britain than he could discover in a lifetime of digging. Here was history on the hoof! He could travel the length and breadth of England with Rufus, and the warrior could simply tell him where to excavate.
James smiled. Mordecai Cheeke would be ready to chew bricks.
Suppressing an ignoble chuckle, he said to Rufus, “We must get you settled in here. Please consider my home as your own. We’ll have to get you out of those clothes, of course. I think my head coachman is about your build, though a little taller. His clothes should do until we can get something made up for you. Then, we’ll—”
“Hold on,” interposed Rufus abruptly. “I can’t stay here.”
“Of course, you can. As you can see, I have plenty of room.”
“No, no,” continued Rufus impatiently. “I mean I can’t stay here in your year 1870 or whatever. I must go back to where I belong. Now.”
He moved toward the door as though to leave, but Hilary, who was in his path, laid a hand on his arm.
“Of course, you must return to your home, Rufus,” she said hurriedly. “But how are you to do that? Do you know how to, um, reverse the Druid’s curse?”
Rufus paused uncertainly and James stepped up.
“Besides, your theory
“All right,” James said at last, almost breathless with the implication of his words. “I believe you have been transferred from the end of the first century to this present year of 1817. The question now, I suppose, is how did you get here? And how do we return you to your proper time?”
“Oh, I know that,” replied Rufus, almost offhandedly. “At least, the part about how I got here.”
Chapter Six
“What?” gasped Hilary and James in unison. “It was the old Druid,” asserted Rufus, helping himself to a sandwich after a cautious perusal of the tray and its contents. “It must have been.”
“What old Druid?” Again, his listeners spoke as one.
“He lives in a little cave near the tower. Crotchety old buzzard. Says he’s the Guardian of the Stones. You know, the circle where the tower sits.”
Hilary nodded in fascination.
“At any rate, I understand he nearly foamed at the mouth when the tower was built. Sacrilege, he screamed. Claimed it was due to his curses that the thing was never finished. When I met him— when our lads showed up to begin removing the stones—he flew into a rage. Mm, what is this? Some kind of ham? It’s good, but how do you slice the bread so thin? Anyway, since I was in charge of the detail, he turned his temper on me. Told me to take my pack of desecrating savages and leave. Can you believe? That filthy old heathen calling Roman soldiers savages? I sorted him out in brief order, of course. Every day, though, he’s shown up at the fifth hour or so, hurling curses and making a general nuisance of himself. Yesterday, I finally cuffed him up the side of his head and told him to push off. He swelled up like a poisoned pig and let loose with what must have been the biggest, ugliest curse in his bag of tricks. Then, he just shuffled off.
“I think, though,” he concluded, “that the old gopher’s incantation must have held more juice than I credited him for. I mean, here I am.”
“Indeed,” said James, unable to control the broad smile that spread across his features. What a find! The old warrior’s theory on the cause of his remarkable journey was ludicrous, but no matter. The important thing was the journey itself. He, James Wincanon, most ordinary of mortals, was actually entertaining in his study a denizen of first-century Roman Britain. What unimaginable nuggets of information could be gleaned from this citizen of the ancient empire? Why, Rufus could no doubt provide him with more information on the Roman occupation of Britain than he could discover in a lifetime of digging. Here was history on the hoof! He could travel the length and breadth of England with Rufus, and the warrior could simply tell him where to excavate.
James smiled. Mordecai Cheeke would be ready to chew bricks.
Suppressing an ignoble chuckle, he said to Rufus, “We must get you settled in here. Please consider my home as your own. We’ll have to get you out of those clothes, of course. I think my head coachman is about your build, though a little taller. His clothes should do until we can get something made up for you. Then, we’ll—”
“Hold on,” interposed Rufus abruptly. “I can’t stay here.”
“Of course, you can. As you can see, I have plenty of room.”
“No, no,” continued Rufus impatiently. “I mean I can’t stay here in your year 1870 or whatever. I must go back to where I belong. Now.”
He moved toward the door as though to leave, but Hilary, who was in his path, laid a hand on his arm.
“Of course, you must return to your home, Rufus,” she said hurriedly. “But how are you to do that? Do you know how to, um, reverse the Druid’s curse?”
Rufus paused uncertainly and James stepped up.
“Besides, your theory
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