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Authors: Taylin Clavelli
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reached into his pocket, retrieved the piece of silk, and placed it in the middle of the table. “Milady’s favour,” was all he said before returning to his breakfast.
Everyone finished their meals in uncomfortable silence.
With the dishes cleared away and hands washed, Eileen took a closer look at the large-handkerchief-sized piece of material and showed something on it to Carl.
Carl seemed to understand what Eileen was getting at and spoke up. “I think we need to go see the lord of the manor.”
“Why?”
“Because that joust happened on manor land.”
“So?”
“For years, the manor has sold off parts of the estate, and that field at the top of the hill is the farthest point of the property. I know of several who have wanted it—bloody good offers, too, if the rumours are true. But all approaches have been flat-out refused. It could be nothing, but I think you stumbled on something that only they can answer.”
Warren let out a sigh of relief. “You believe me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons. You’ve heard my ramblings. I love this kind of stuff. There’s been stories flying about these parts for years—nowt concrete-like, so I haven’t paid much mind to them. On the other hand, I think you’ve got yourself tangled up in a mystery; one kept secret by the manor, if your visits to Little Walmsley are anything to do with it. I don’t think it’s going to go away unless you can solve the mystery. And if that sodding bird’s involved, then something funny is definitely happening.”
Carl mentioning Salem in such a way piqued Warren’s curiosity even more. He already felt that it was halfway up Mount Everest. But Warren saw the look of apprehension on Carl and Eileen’s faces. “That’s not all, though, is it?”
Carl took a breath and raised his eyebrows. “No. That piece of silk does it for me.”
“Why?”
Eileen folded the silk and placed it on the table before Warren. Uppermost in the neatly edged corner was an embroidered gold feather. “That’s the ancient family crest of the manor, part of their coat of arms. It was updated about thirty years ago. Nothing much was thought of it at the time, just a little rumble or two at the post office on a rainy day.”
Warren remembered seeing feathers in the Walmsley coat of arms. The sight wasn’t unusual. “What did they change it to?”
“A swan.”
C hapter S even
WARREN SAT at his table recalling the Walmsley coat of arms. He’d encountered it during his research and heading letters dealing with the purchase of the land for his cottage. It mainly comprised a shield flanked by a stag and a swan. Feathers and antlers sprouted out of the top of the shield, while the shield itself was decorated with a tree whose roots continued out of the bottom of the shield to form a footer to the picture as a whole. It was a beautiful coat of arms from which several family emblems could have been taken. What had Warren pondering was why the feather and swan were chosen. Was there more to the family crest than met the eye?
Meanwhile, Carl had the phone to his ear, only to shut it off with an expletive. After trying several times to reach the manor, a frustrated Carl and Eileen returned to the yard with Argo. The only information to come out of the historical household was that no one was available. Disappointed, Warren did the only thing he could. He fired up his spa and sank into its massaging bubbles to get some much-needed heat into his aching muscles.
He hurt from tip to toe, and the last thing he wanted was to walk into the office in the morning moving like he was weeks away from needing a coffin. As bubbles rippled up his back, the tension eased and he found it easier to breathe. Long fingers of heat reached deep into each tender sinew and cradled it like a mother soothes a fevered brow. The relief allowed him to think about what happened overnight and what to do about it.
Sadly, no matter how he processed the events,
Everyone finished their meals in uncomfortable silence.
With the dishes cleared away and hands washed, Eileen took a closer look at the large-handkerchief-sized piece of material and showed something on it to Carl.
Carl seemed to understand what Eileen was getting at and spoke up. “I think we need to go see the lord of the manor.”
“Why?”
“Because that joust happened on manor land.”
“So?”
“For years, the manor has sold off parts of the estate, and that field at the top of the hill is the farthest point of the property. I know of several who have wanted it—bloody good offers, too, if the rumours are true. But all approaches have been flat-out refused. It could be nothing, but I think you stumbled on something that only they can answer.”
Warren let out a sigh of relief. “You believe me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons. You’ve heard my ramblings. I love this kind of stuff. There’s been stories flying about these parts for years—nowt concrete-like, so I haven’t paid much mind to them. On the other hand, I think you’ve got yourself tangled up in a mystery; one kept secret by the manor, if your visits to Little Walmsley are anything to do with it. I don’t think it’s going to go away unless you can solve the mystery. And if that sodding bird’s involved, then something funny is definitely happening.”
Carl mentioning Salem in such a way piqued Warren’s curiosity even more. He already felt that it was halfway up Mount Everest. But Warren saw the look of apprehension on Carl and Eileen’s faces. “That’s not all, though, is it?”
Carl took a breath and raised his eyebrows. “No. That piece of silk does it for me.”
“Why?”
Eileen folded the silk and placed it on the table before Warren. Uppermost in the neatly edged corner was an embroidered gold feather. “That’s the ancient family crest of the manor, part of their coat of arms. It was updated about thirty years ago. Nothing much was thought of it at the time, just a little rumble or two at the post office on a rainy day.”
Warren remembered seeing feathers in the Walmsley coat of arms. The sight wasn’t unusual. “What did they change it to?”
“A swan.”
C hapter S even
WARREN SAT at his table recalling the Walmsley coat of arms. He’d encountered it during his research and heading letters dealing with the purchase of the land for his cottage. It mainly comprised a shield flanked by a stag and a swan. Feathers and antlers sprouted out of the top of the shield, while the shield itself was decorated with a tree whose roots continued out of the bottom of the shield to form a footer to the picture as a whole. It was a beautiful coat of arms from which several family emblems could have been taken. What had Warren pondering was why the feather and swan were chosen. Was there more to the family crest than met the eye?
Meanwhile, Carl had the phone to his ear, only to shut it off with an expletive. After trying several times to reach the manor, a frustrated Carl and Eileen returned to the yard with Argo. The only information to come out of the historical household was that no one was available. Disappointed, Warren did the only thing he could. He fired up his spa and sank into its massaging bubbles to get some much-needed heat into his aching muscles.
He hurt from tip to toe, and the last thing he wanted was to walk into the office in the morning moving like he was weeks away from needing a coffin. As bubbles rippled up his back, the tension eased and he found it easier to breathe. Long fingers of heat reached deep into each tender sinew and cradled it like a mother soothes a fevered brow. The relief allowed him to think about what happened overnight and what to do about it.
Sadly, no matter how he processed the events,
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