First published: 13th March, 2018
Status: COMPLETED.
Version: EXTENDED.
Age Recommendation: 12+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 45 Minutes.
Revisions: 6. [Last Edit: September 2020]
Angel-in-charge: Phillipe Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1891AD-1411AH Mission: 270914 - 4 - 4590
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| "THE WOODLEY HILL CHAPEL MYSTERY." |
MISSION SUMMARY: "York, England - July 1891.
"It's probably the unusual and unseasonal amount of rain that we have endured, which has contributed to this." Thomas Wycliff thrust his hiking stick into the soft ground and stared at the ruins of Woodley Hill Chapel, one side had subsided and lay in a cluster of brick and stone. Two craters had appeared, neither larger that a hay carriage, just below the west side.
Everything had been closed off with poles and white rope, with little red rags attached to the ropes. Someone had placed a hastily painted sign by the old iron gates, which led up to the ancient chapel, that declared; 'DANGER! DO NOT ENTER CHAPEL!'
The two men stood before the small disaster and Edward Forshaw [the local school teacher] took up the story so far; "A couple walking in Poppy Lane heard the noise; they said it was like a crack of thunder - but of course it was a clear quiet evening with no rain, thunder or lightning and when they turned back to the chapel; they saw the west wall had gone. They rushed to the village and informed Father Gillingham, who was about to start evening mass in St. Mary's."
The Engineer and Surveyor; Thomas Wycliff, who had been dispatched from the city of York under the direction of the Archbishop of York himself, folded his arms and stared at the dismal sight; "Our priorities will be to make what remains safe - if we can - and I fear there will be no attempt to rebuilt. It will remain a ruin from now on, if Woodley Chapel wasn't so ancient; they would probably just demolish it and be done with it." Edward agreed with that statement and both men headed for the old army tent that had been struck near the main door of the chapel.
Both men collected lamps from the tent and some wooden ladders and headed for the larger of the two holes. Edward shuddered a little as he stared down into the darkness of the hole. "I had the ladders removed last night - I didn't want anyone going down there and seeing that." He spoke quietly and extinguished his small pipe, placing it in his shirt pocket and rolled up his sleeves, adding; "At first I thought it was just a plague pit, but the original chapel was built about 700 AD and they had to be already there, when that was constructed. The damage done to the bodies is extensive.....well, you'll see for yourself."
Both men lowered the ladder and secured the top; Edward climbed down first, his lamp swinging gently and called out for the second ladder. It took a good twenty minutes to secure the ladders safely and Thomas descended into the pit, slowly and carefully.
They stood in the dark, damp quiet and held their lamps aloft; "Sweet fucking Jesus!" Thomas muttered as he viewed the mass of skeletons, strewn about the floor of the pit. He could see heavy cut marks upon each piece of bone and particularly on the skulls near to him. Edwards whispered; "Doctor Soames had a quick look at them yesterday and told me, quite flatly, that they were NOT plague victims. He believes that these people were killed - some by wild animals - on mass. There must be at least thirty individuals here; men, women and several children."
They stood in silence and finally Thomas turned and gripped the ladder; "I will get some photographs taken and write up some kind of report. Then head back to York and inform the Arch-Bishop myself." He looked back at the dreadful sight, still caught by Edwards lamp and added; "We're going to need professional help about them; I'll get hold of Professor Halbrook at York University about getting some archaeologists down here."
Edward agreed with that and watched his colleague ascending to the light, he looked about and crossed himself; whatever happened here all those centuries ago was about to be exposed to the light of day. He shuddered a little and made for the ladder and climbed to the edge of pit, where Thomas was waiting; scribbling in a notebook, and shouting at a couple of men who had just arrived.
"I'll send Robert back to the town to get the photographer, whilst Danny can get the tea on and I'm having some of this." He held up a small hip-flask and half smiled. Edward agreed with that; even if it was the middle of the morning.
Edward and Thomas walked slowly to the tent and sat on the two camp chairs that had been placed there and watched young Danny light the small paraffin stove and place the black kettle upon the blue flickering flames. "What the hell happened here all those years ago?" Edward said softly and re-lit his pipe.
Thomas wiped his hands with a clean rag and lit a small yellow cigarette that gave off a pungent smell; "Make yourself a brew young Daniel and your probably old enough for a shot of this." Thomas held up his hip-flask and grinned. Danny Kessler smiled back and poured boiling water into the metal tea pot and arranged the mugs with milk and sugar. "My old gran - she's dead now - use to tell about the Legend of Uriel; the Devil's pet dog. Stories have it that old Nick himself use to walk his favourite hound around this parts; feeding him on the souls of the blasphemous and unrepentant disbelievers".
Both men chuckled at young Danny and accepted their mugs of hot tea gratefully, with Thomas adding a little something from the hip-flask to each mug. "I've asked old Roland Page to drop by; he's a local Historian, and if anyone will know anything about those poor souls, it will be him." Edward sipped his tea and actually enjoyed the little drop of whisky it contained.
Thomas was sipping his tea between scribbling in his notebook and sketching; "Some of those cuts look like they could have been done by swords or axes; but many of the skulls and large bones clearly have teeth marks. We really do need those archaeologists down here."
"Hello in the tent!" A voice drifted in and Edward returned the call; "Ah, Roland come on in, the tea's just been made." A frail looking, grey haired, tall man stepped into the tent and placed his hat and stick upon the table and accepted a mug of tea from Danny. Edward gave up his seat to the old chap and refilled his own mug; "This is Thomas Wycliff; an engineer and surveyor sent by the Arch-bishop, he doesn't believe the old chapel can be repaired."
Old Roland Page nodded and praised Danny for a good strong cup of tea and then pulled a little black notebook from his coat pocket. He tapped the book against his knee and smiled slightly; "There is only one legend that may have been based on those poor souls, that I know of locally. You won't pay it much kind, if your not superstitious and don't believe in Satan."
Edward and Thomas chuckled at that and Danny quietly left the tent and scooped up a couple of camp chairs from the doorway of the old chapel. He stared into the 'Black Forest' and actually shuddered a little. He remembered as a child, the finding of the strange skeleton by 'Preacher's Pond'. It was whispered around the village that it was half human and half wolf. The reverend and big Harry, the local grave-digger, had disposed of it before anyone could study the remains. No-one in the village ever spoke of about the incident.
He returned to the tent with the extra chairs and refilled the kettle, the conversation was about the origins of the village. He listened with some casual interest. He knew all about his own village - so he believed.
Edward smiled and lit his pipe; "The one about the Norse God Odin or as he was called around here; Woden." Edward turned to Thomas and added; "That's where the village got its name, originally it was called 'Woden's Ley', but over the centuries, this area became known as 'Woodley' because of the fallow land around the settlement - that's when the name changed from the old pagan based title."
Thomas asked the old man to elaborate and Roland sipped his tea and imparted the Legend of a local King Cuthbert's persecution, with the wolf pack from Hell, of the pagans who resided in Woden's Ley.
2. SUMMER SOLSTICE; WODEN'S LEY, 666AD.
The King, now beside himself with anger, at apparently being slighted by the pagan's, took drastic and deadly action; he ordered his War Chieftain to attack the village and leave no pagan alive. The Kings Housecarls gathered in 'Eofer's wic' [now known as York] and plotted with a certain Chief of the Norsemen to carry out the King's orders [despite being pagan's themselves!] known as 'Naff the Skull biter' who accepted gold and slaves as payment.
The date was set; the Summer Solstice, because all the pagan's of the village would be in attendance. Thus at Midday on that fateful day 'Naff the Skull biter' arrived in the village with several of the King's Housecarls and a large group of warriors. He carried with him, in wooden and iron cages, several large wolves from his home country - suitably starved and beaten.
They surrounded the stones and awaited the order, which was given by a grinning 'Naff the skull biter'; he declared that the pagans who surrendered to the King's will and leave the village immediately, would be spared. Thus, under the bright midday sun the soldiers moved in. Some of the pagans, who had their swords and axes laying nearby fought back; but were hopelessly out numbered and killed where they stood.
A certain pagan woman; called 'Sweterun ' managed to persuade 'Naff the skull biter' to spare a large group of villagers [including women and children) and they were allowed to seek refuge at the ruins of their pagan temple (now known as Woodley Hill Chapel). but the evil 'Naff the skull biter' would not be denied his killing spree and released his wolf-dogs after them. The surviving pagan villagers were caught in the caves beneath the old temple and torn to pieces by the dogs.
It was said that the pagan war Lord; drank wine and laughed, as the dreadful scene unfolded before him. legend has it, that the devil himself stood at his shoulder that terrible day.
To make sure that all had perished, he ordered his men to take axe and sword to those injured and not yet dead. But, legend also has it, that one young child - a girl called Cwenhild - survived the mass slaughter and escaped to the forest. It was whispered that she became a 'black witch' and lived deep in the forest, casting spells for payment in gold or for food and fuel.
The story has it, that a young knight was dispatched by King Cuthbert's successor to kill the 'black witch of the forest'. Now a beautiful women, she easily seduced the young knight and as he slept, after love making; cut his throat and drank blood from the wound.
Young King Egbert II (Cuthbert's Grandson) ordered a large force of 'Housecarls' and foot soldiers to the black forest, with sole purpose of killing the witch and burning her body. But deep in the forest, they encountered 'Wolf men' and many were killed by these vicious creatures; some say the spawn of Cwenhild and 'Naff the skull biter's' pack leader; Bardon.
Bardon had escaped from the clutches of his master and taken to living with Cwenhild in the dark forest. Apparently, all with the Devil him-self's blessing. The pair prospered and legends of the dog headed people, descended from this unholy union; persisted for centuries and even appeared in early Medieval manuscripts and letters. Very few travellers would risk an incursion into the 'Black forest' and the place was avoided like Hell itself.
The remaining Christian's of 'Woodley' were so shocked and ashamed at their King's brutal and savage murder of the pagan's, they closed up the caves and, over time, erected the small chapel above the bones, as an act of repentance for the killings. But for Cwenhild, that wasn't enough, deep in the forest she performed a black ritual and laid a curse upon the village people and their descendants and sealed the evil utterance with a blood sacrifice: a child stolen from the village was butchered on the old pagans alter.
The legend states that the curse still holds good to this day and even now, the stones known as 'faer sian' are avoided on the day of the Summer Solstice and the story passed down, century after century, is that the ghosts of Bardon and his witch wife haunt the place. Sometimes, villagers have sworn that Bardon's howling can be heard, as the sun rises on that fateful, blood soaked day."
Roland finished the story and his tea, he coughed a little and adjusted his glasses; "It was, of course, until the bones were uncovered by the subsidence just a myth - a legend. A good yarn to tell on all Hallows night, around a glowing fire with a whisky in your hand. But now...." He shrugged and asked if there was any more tea.
Thomas wiped his face and sipped directly from his hip-flask, he sighed; "I think, I will omit that from my report to the Arch-Bishop; it may keep him from sleep for some time." Edward nodded his agreement at that and stared out of the tent flap to the old ruins, he whispered softly; Maybe we should just cover the whole damn thing up and forget about it - for the sake of our sanity."
The four men sat in silence, until they realised that the Reverend George Gillingham was approaching the tent, clutching an old canvas bag. He had a serious look upon his face and bade no-one a cheery 'good morning' - as was his custom. He simply entered the tent and from the pockets of his long dark coat; pulled a bottle of whisky. "I think we will need this in the coming days. How much of the legend have you told these gentlemen, Roland?"
Young Daniel rose nervously from his camp chair and offered it to the reverend. Father Gillingham nodded his thanks and slowly sat down, he turned to Roland; "How much do they know?" He pulled the cork and offered the bottle around. Everyone accepted a drop in their cups; now empty of tea. Old Roland Page sighed; "Everything - except the Devil's legacy." He crossed himself and whispered; "May God have mercy on us."
3. THE PIT.
Jericho stopped the tandem and pushed back his hat, he pulled out his hankie and wiped his face. "This is it. Woodley Chapel." He turned to Alex who was very gracefully dismounting from the rear seat; she was perspiring and wiped her face and neck. She would swear, that she had done most of the cycling from the 'jump Point'. "Whose bloody idea was a tandem pushbike?" She muttered and the pair were joined by Owen and Wilson, who had a bike each.
"Apparently your part of the entertainment tonight." Wilson said to Alex, who folded her arms and stared at the floor. Owen went to the bar for more drinks. He came back some minutes later with a tray; laughing to himself. He handed the drinks round and sat back down. Alex slapped his arm; "Where's my cider?" Owen didn't smile; "The landlord said you've had two already and that's your limit. He won't serve you another until tomorrow."
"First he thinks I'm like a child with 'whose responsible for her' and now he checks how many bloody drinks I have!" Alex was not a happy woman. It was also the final straw for her; she went to her room, sulking at her treatment. But as she started to walk up the stairs, a group of men crowded around the bottom and watched her mount the stairs. They all cheered as she lifted each foot up and and made the top, they loved getting a glimpse of her ankles and shoes.
A little red faced and angry she slammed the bedroom door and her mood didn't improve, when she found it had no lock. She shoved a chair under the door handle and sat on the rock hard bed; clutching her mirror. She must have fallen asleep, sitting up and woke suddenly.
"What the fuck are they doing by the wall?" Owen whispered to Jericho; there were three men digging along the length of the wall that had previously, partially subsided. That's when Owen saw the cables running from the wall towards the gates of the external chapel wall. Jericho rubbed his face; "I think they're going to blow the bloody thing up!" He said softly.
Their attention was drawn back to the tent. The flap was flung open and a well dressed young man stood in the torchlight. He must have been over six feet tall and strikingly handsome. Jericho thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled his orb out.
Everyone watched as the circumference showed red streaks; a minion of the Dark Prince and no one was surprised. Owen held his mirror up to his face and whispered to the others; "It's bloody Ceebrus; now a Tier One demon." Jericho sat back against the stone wall and wiped his face, he spoke softly; "This has taken a real serious turn for the worse." He nodded to Wilson, who operated his mirror. "He's on his way." Was all Wilson said. Alex peered carefully over the wall and turned back to Jericho; "They've pulled someone up from the pit and are now heading for the gates!"
"Now what the fuck are they doing?" Owen looked over the wall and could see no one insight; not even their old adversary; Ceebrus. They could just make out a voice speaking; he was saying; "Four, three..." Jericho jabbed the emergency travel app on his mirror and the team disappeared; just as the explosions started and the chapel came crashing to earth, part of the graveyard went with it and so did the wall; they were just hiding behind.
They returned immediately from outside the lighthouse and found themselves amongst the ruins of the chapel. Apart from a doorway or two and the odd bit of wall; it had disappeared into the pit, which was now sealed up. They could see many people gathering in the streets of the village; there were lamps and torches everywhere. Many were shouting and talking amongst themselves. Nearly every house had lights on. It was chaos.
That's when everyone noticed Herbie the Collector standing by a couple of overturned headstones. He smiled and held up his soul ledger; "I just collected the soul of a certain Engineer called Thomas Wycliff. He tells me that someone smashed him over the head, as he was working late in the tent. He's body is in the pit. He didn't see who killed him." Jericho nodded; "Someone is tidying this up. I bet the engineer had examined the skeletons, maybe sketched or took pictures of them. Ceebrus had papers in his hand, coming out the tent. They're getting rid of the evidence. I wonder who else saw the bones?"
"I wouldn't like to be in their shoes; unless their part of the cover up." Wilson muttered, then grinned at James - a Knight of God - who walked over and shook hands all round. He took a deep breath and smiled; "I cannot sense Ceebrus, he must have gone; for now." He was dressed as a gentleman of this time period and carried a large bag which he held up; "I stopped off and picked up some urgent supplies." He rattled the bag; bottles!
"Two bottles of decent brandy." He chuckled and Alex patted his arm; "Now that's best thing that has happened all bloody day." She said softly. "Amen to that." Owen remarked and stared back down to the village; a mob was heading their way. "Let's get the fuck out of here." was all Jericho said. They returned to the pub and found it open; but empty.
They sat in the deserted bar and James passed a bottle of brand around. Owen 'borrowed' glasses from the bar and the team enjoyed a well earned drink; especially Alex, who nursed her glass like a new mother. "Your report to the duty controller has set the cat amongst the pigeons. It's gone to the BOSS himself. No one seems to know anything about these strange humans." James was speaking to Jericho who sipped his brandy and nodded; "I think something has been going on here for centuries and we've just stumbled upon it."
"With Ceebrus on the scene, I would bet that the Dark Prince knows all about this." Wilson said and finished his brandy. "They cannot have souls, otherwise we would have records on them. So whose creation are they?" Alex spoke softly, then saw the bags at the foot of the stairs. They weren't there, when the team had left for the ruins earlier.
Owen wandered over and tool a look; "They have baggage labels on them from the 'SS Viceroy of India' and the name is..." He shifted them a little and pulled up a large brown label; fastened with string to the handles. He chuckled and shook his head; "Guess whose bloody name is on the tickets?"
Everyone just shrugged their shoulders; "Colonel Alexander McIves!" He said and wiped his face, adding; "What the hell is he doing here?" There was surprised silence until Alex held up her mirror; "That ship docked in Liverpool just three days ago; from Australia. There is a couple of McIves on the passenger list..." Alex stopped talking and stared at her mirror.
"What is it?" Wilson asked, refilling his and Alex's glass, then offered the bottle around. Alex almost smiled; "There are two McIves listed, an Alexander McIves and a Mrs. Elizabeth McIves; he's bloody married!"
There was a further surprised silence until Jericho chuckled; "I wonder how many Mrs. McIves there been, over the centuries he's been knocking around?" James nodded; "But what is he doing now, at this time and place; that can't be just a coincidence?" Owen returned to his seat and downed his brandy, looking for a refill, but the bottle was empty. Sighing, he walked to the door and didn't smile; "We have a large, angry looking mob heading this way." and returned to the table.
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Copyright © 2011-2022 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.
The ancient chapel outside the village of Woodley, in Yorkshire, has suddenly subsided and the west wall now lies in ruins. The Arch-Bishop of York has dispatched a team to assess the damage and make recommendations. What they find is a collection of caves beneath the old chapel and in one of those long forgotten and unknown Caverns, a terrible secret that has lain hidden for almost thirteen hundred years. Jericho Tibbs is dispatched because what the cave contains may change human history!"
NOTES: This episode contains mild bad language and sexual references.
"This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
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| 45 Min. |
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| Book series 4 |
"THE WOODLEY HILL CHAPEL MYSTERY."
1. WOODLEY HILL CHAPEL, JULY 19th, 1891.
"It's probably the unusual and unseasonal amount of rain that we have endured, which has contributed to this." Thomas Wycliff thrust his hiking stick into the soft ground and stared at the ruins of Woodley Hill Chapel, one side had subsided and lay in a cluster of brick and stone. Two craters had appeared, neither larger that a hay carriage, just below the west side.
Everything had been closed off with poles and white rope, with little red rags attached to the ropes. Someone had placed a hastily painted sign by the old iron gates, which led up to the ancient chapel, that declared; 'DANGER! DO NOT ENTER CHAPEL!'
The two men stood before the small disaster and Edward Forshaw [the local school teacher] took up the story so far; "A couple walking in Poppy Lane heard the noise; they said it was like a crack of thunder - but of course it was a clear quiet evening with no rain, thunder or lightning and when they turned back to the chapel; they saw the west wall had gone. They rushed to the village and informed Father Gillingham, who was about to start evening mass in St. Mary's."
The Engineer and Surveyor; Thomas Wycliff, who had been dispatched from the city of York under the direction of the Archbishop of York himself, folded his arms and stared at the dismal sight; "Our priorities will be to make what remains safe - if we can - and I fear there will be no attempt to rebuilt. It will remain a ruin from now on, if Woodley Chapel wasn't so ancient; they would probably just demolish it and be done with it." Edward agreed with that statement and both men headed for the old army tent that had been struck near the main door of the chapel.
Both men collected lamps from the tent and some wooden ladders and headed for the larger of the two holes. Edward shuddered a little as he stared down into the darkness of the hole. "I had the ladders removed last night - I didn't want anyone going down there and seeing that." He spoke quietly and extinguished his small pipe, placing it in his shirt pocket and rolled up his sleeves, adding; "At first I thought it was just a plague pit, but the original chapel was built about 700 AD and they had to be already there, when that was constructed. The damage done to the bodies is extensive.....well, you'll see for yourself."
Both men lowered the ladder and secured the top; Edward climbed down first, his lamp swinging gently and called out for the second ladder. It took a good twenty minutes to secure the ladders safely and Thomas descended into the pit, slowly and carefully.
They stood in the dark, damp quiet and held their lamps aloft; "Sweet fucking Jesus!" Thomas muttered as he viewed the mass of skeletons, strewn about the floor of the pit. He could see heavy cut marks upon each piece of bone and particularly on the skulls near to him. Edwards whispered; "Doctor Soames had a quick look at them yesterday and told me, quite flatly, that they were NOT plague victims. He believes that these people were killed - some by wild animals - on mass. There must be at least thirty individuals here; men, women and several children."
They stood in silence and finally Thomas turned and gripped the ladder; "I will get some photographs taken and write up some kind of report. Then head back to York and inform the Arch-Bishop myself." He looked back at the dreadful sight, still caught by Edwards lamp and added; "We're going to need professional help about them; I'll get hold of Professor Halbrook at York University about getting some archaeologists down here."
Edward agreed with that and watched his colleague ascending to the light, he looked about and crossed himself; whatever happened here all those centuries ago was about to be exposed to the light of day. He shuddered a little and made for the ladder and climbed to the edge of pit, where Thomas was waiting; scribbling in a notebook, and shouting at a couple of men who had just arrived.
"I'll send Robert back to the town to get the photographer, whilst Danny can get the tea on and I'm having some of this." He held up a small hip-flask and half smiled. Edward agreed with that; even if it was the middle of the morning.
Edward and Thomas walked slowly to the tent and sat on the two camp chairs that had been placed there and watched young Danny light the small paraffin stove and place the black kettle upon the blue flickering flames. "What the hell happened here all those years ago?" Edward said softly and re-lit his pipe.
Thomas wiped his hands with a clean rag and lit a small yellow cigarette that gave off a pungent smell; "Make yourself a brew young Daniel and your probably old enough for a shot of this." Thomas held up his hip-flask and grinned. Danny Kessler smiled back and poured boiling water into the metal tea pot and arranged the mugs with milk and sugar. "My old gran - she's dead now - use to tell about the Legend of Uriel; the Devil's pet dog. Stories have it that old Nick himself use to walk his favourite hound around this parts; feeding him on the souls of the blasphemous and unrepentant disbelievers".
Both men chuckled at young Danny and accepted their mugs of hot tea gratefully, with Thomas adding a little something from the hip-flask to each mug. "I've asked old Roland Page to drop by; he's a local Historian, and if anyone will know anything about those poor souls, it will be him." Edward sipped his tea and actually enjoyed the little drop of whisky it contained.
Thomas was sipping his tea between scribbling in his notebook and sketching; "Some of those cuts look like they could have been done by swords or axes; but many of the skulls and large bones clearly have teeth marks. We really do need those archaeologists down here."
"Hello in the tent!" A voice drifted in and Edward returned the call; "Ah, Roland come on in, the tea's just been made." A frail looking, grey haired, tall man stepped into the tent and placed his hat and stick upon the table and accepted a mug of tea from Danny. Edward gave up his seat to the old chap and refilled his own mug; "This is Thomas Wycliff; an engineer and surveyor sent by the Arch-bishop, he doesn't believe the old chapel can be repaired."
Old Roland Page nodded and praised Danny for a good strong cup of tea and then pulled a little black notebook from his coat pocket. He tapped the book against his knee and smiled slightly; "There is only one legend that may have been based on those poor souls, that I know of locally. You won't pay it much kind, if your not superstitious and don't believe in Satan."
Edward and Thomas chuckled at that and Danny quietly left the tent and scooped up a couple of camp chairs from the doorway of the old chapel. He stared into the 'Black Forest' and actually shuddered a little. He remembered as a child, the finding of the strange skeleton by 'Preacher's Pond'. It was whispered around the village that it was half human and half wolf. The reverend and big Harry, the local grave-digger, had disposed of it before anyone could study the remains. No-one in the village ever spoke of about the incident.
He returned to the tent with the extra chairs and refilled the kettle, the conversation was about the origins of the village. He listened with some casual interest. He knew all about his own village - so he believed.
Edward smiled and lit his pipe; "The one about the Norse God Odin or as he was called around here; Woden." Edward turned to Thomas and added; "That's where the village got its name, originally it was called 'Woden's Ley', but over the centuries, this area became known as 'Woodley' because of the fallow land around the settlement - that's when the name changed from the old pagan based title."
Thomas asked the old man to elaborate and Roland sipped his tea and imparted the Legend of a local King Cuthbert's persecution, with the wolf pack from Hell, of the pagans who resided in Woden's Ley.
2. SUMMER SOLSTICE; WODEN'S LEY, 666AD.
"According to local legend, it was King Cuthbert's youngest daughter that incurred the King's wrath when she ran away and married a pagan chieftain. The King was so incensed by his daughter's apparent betrayal that he decided no pagan could reside on his lands. So in 666AD [that's an appropriate set of numbers for what is about to happen!] He signed a declaration ordering all pagans to leave his Kingdom - on pain of death if they remained - but the people of Woden's Ley defied the King; saying they would leave after the Summer Solstice was celebrated, at the local circle of stones known as 'faer sian'.
The King, now beside himself with anger, at apparently being slighted by the pagan's, took drastic and deadly action; he ordered his War Chieftain to attack the village and leave no pagan alive. The Kings Housecarls gathered in 'Eofer's wic' [now known as York] and plotted with a certain Chief of the Norsemen to carry out the King's orders [despite being pagan's themselves!] known as 'Naff the Skull biter' who accepted gold and slaves as payment.
The date was set; the Summer Solstice, because all the pagan's of the village would be in attendance. Thus at Midday on that fateful day 'Naff the Skull biter' arrived in the village with several of the King's Housecarls and a large group of warriors. He carried with him, in wooden and iron cages, several large wolves from his home country - suitably starved and beaten.
They surrounded the stones and awaited the order, which was given by a grinning 'Naff the skull biter'; he declared that the pagans who surrendered to the King's will and leave the village immediately, would be spared. Thus, under the bright midday sun the soldiers moved in. Some of the pagans, who had their swords and axes laying nearby fought back; but were hopelessly out numbered and killed where they stood.
A certain pagan woman; called 'Sweterun ' managed to persuade 'Naff the skull biter' to spare a large group of villagers [including women and children) and they were allowed to seek refuge at the ruins of their pagan temple (now known as Woodley Hill Chapel). but the evil 'Naff the skull biter' would not be denied his killing spree and released his wolf-dogs after them. The surviving pagan villagers were caught in the caves beneath the old temple and torn to pieces by the dogs.
It was said that the pagan war Lord; drank wine and laughed, as the dreadful scene unfolded before him. legend has it, that the devil himself stood at his shoulder that terrible day.
To make sure that all had perished, he ordered his men to take axe and sword to those injured and not yet dead. But, legend also has it, that one young child - a girl called Cwenhild - survived the mass slaughter and escaped to the forest. It was whispered that she became a 'black witch' and lived deep in the forest, casting spells for payment in gold or for food and fuel.
The story has it, that a young knight was dispatched by King Cuthbert's successor to kill the 'black witch of the forest'. Now a beautiful women, she easily seduced the young knight and as he slept, after love making; cut his throat and drank blood from the wound.
Young King Egbert II (Cuthbert's Grandson) ordered a large force of 'Housecarls' and foot soldiers to the black forest, with sole purpose of killing the witch and burning her body. But deep in the forest, they encountered 'Wolf men' and many were killed by these vicious creatures; some say the spawn of Cwenhild and 'Naff the skull biter's' pack leader; Bardon.
Bardon had escaped from the clutches of his master and taken to living with Cwenhild in the dark forest. Apparently, all with the Devil him-self's blessing. The pair prospered and legends of the dog headed people, descended from this unholy union; persisted for centuries and even appeared in early Medieval manuscripts and letters. Very few travellers would risk an incursion into the 'Black forest' and the place was avoided like Hell itself.
The remaining Christian's of 'Woodley' were so shocked and ashamed at their King's brutal and savage murder of the pagan's, they closed up the caves and, over time, erected the small chapel above the bones, as an act of repentance for the killings. But for Cwenhild, that wasn't enough, deep in the forest she performed a black ritual and laid a curse upon the village people and their descendants and sealed the evil utterance with a blood sacrifice: a child stolen from the village was butchered on the old pagans alter.
The legend states that the curse still holds good to this day and even now, the stones known as 'faer sian' are avoided on the day of the Summer Solstice and the story passed down, century after century, is that the ghosts of Bardon and his witch wife haunt the place. Sometimes, villagers have sworn that Bardon's howling can be heard, as the sun rises on that fateful, blood soaked day."
Roland finished the story and his tea, he coughed a little and adjusted his glasses; "It was, of course, until the bones were uncovered by the subsidence just a myth - a legend. A good yarn to tell on all Hallows night, around a glowing fire with a whisky in your hand. But now...." He shrugged and asked if there was any more tea.
Thomas wiped his face and sipped directly from his hip-flask, he sighed; "I think, I will omit that from my report to the Arch-Bishop; it may keep him from sleep for some time." Edward nodded his agreement at that and stared out of the tent flap to the old ruins, he whispered softly; Maybe we should just cover the whole damn thing up and forget about it - for the sake of our sanity."
The four men sat in silence, until they realised that the Reverend George Gillingham was approaching the tent, clutching an old canvas bag. He had a serious look upon his face and bade no-one a cheery 'good morning' - as was his custom. He simply entered the tent and from the pockets of his long dark coat; pulled a bottle of whisky. "I think we will need this in the coming days. How much of the legend have you told these gentlemen, Roland?"
Young Daniel rose nervously from his camp chair and offered it to the reverend. Father Gillingham nodded his thanks and slowly sat down, he turned to Roland; "How much do they know?" He pulled the cork and offered the bottle around. Everyone accepted a drop in their cups; now empty of tea. Old Roland Page sighed; "Everything - except the Devil's legacy." He crossed himself and whispered; "May God have mercy on us."
3. THE PIT.
Jericho stopped the tandem and pushed back his hat, he pulled out his hankie and wiped his face. "This is it. Woodley Chapel." He turned to Alex who was very gracefully dismounting from the rear seat; she was perspiring and wiped her face and neck. She would swear, that she had done most of the cycling from the 'jump Point'. "Whose bloody idea was a tandem pushbike?" She muttered and the pair were joined by Owen and Wilson, who had a bike each.
"I bet he didn't peddle much." Owen said, smiling and wiping his face and neck too. It was beautiful summer day; just right for cycling, but not in 1891. The team felt very overdressed for the weather. Alex nodded and smoothed down her blue culottes; "I think I was the only daft bugger peddling at one point." She replied; and meant it. Wilson chuckled and leaned his bike against the old stone wall of the Chapel's grounds and stared at the structure; silhouetted against the evening sunshine.
"Quite beautiful." He said quietly and adjusted his back pack. Jericho was already slipping slowly over the low stone wall. The team followed, with Wilson helping Alex over. They walked up the grassy mound and reached the ruins within a few minutes. Jericho stood outside the closed tent and shouted if anyone was in. There was no answer. "Check the pit." He gestured for Wilson to check, if anyone was still down the pit. Wilson, with Owen just behind, headed for the small, wood and wire fence thrown up around the sizable hole. There were several timbers shoring up the wall of the chapel, that simply ended by the pit.
Wilson shone his mirror down and shouted back that it was all clear. Jericho and Alex disappeared into the tent and found an empty whisky bottle on the rough table, a couple of folding chairs, a kettle sitting on an unlit paraffin camping stove and several maps and sketches of the chapel and the pit. There was a distinct smell of cigar smoke.
Alex picked up a sketch and rubbed her face; "Someone is quite a good little artist. This is quite good." She showed Jericho who just nodded. "Come on, lets get down the damn pit and see why the hell an old chapel falling on its arse, needs temporal detectives." Alex chuckled and they joined Wilson and Owen by the pit; Owen was checking the ladder that was fixed with ropes, to the wall of the pit.
Alex picked up a sketch and rubbed her face; "Someone is quite a good little artist. This is quite good." She showed Jericho who just nodded. "Come on, lets get down the damn pit and see why the hell an old chapel falling on its arse, needs temporal detectives." Alex chuckled and they joined Wilson and Owen by the pit; Owen was checking the ladder that was fixed with ropes, to the wall of the pit.
"Good to go." Owen brushed dirt from his trousers and held the top firmly as Jericho heaved himself over and descended into the darkness. Wilson followed, then Alex, who said; "See, I don't mind ladders when I'm wearing trousers." Owen just sighed; he would have been first down the ladder, if Alex was wearing a proper short skirt. But he didn't say that. He followed Alex down and could see that his colleagues all had their mirror's lights on. He dropped onto the soft damp soil and felt something crack beneath his boots. Alex shone her mirror at his feet; it was a broken skull.
They stared about the pit's floor; it was strewn with skeletons. Alex reached down and picked a skull up, she brushed away some clinging dirt and held it up, playing her mirror on it. Owen caught the look on her face and pulled his mirror out. "What is it?" He asked and Alex lowered the skull and looked quite puzzled, she addressed Jericho directly; "Human Records has no record of this person. That's impossible!" Wilson was knelt down by three or four other skeletons and nodded his agreement; "No records on these either."
Jericho lifted a skull and stared at it. He ran his mirror over it and had the same result. No record of this human existed, which as Alex pointed out; was impossible. Human Records had a file on every single human that ever existed or would exist. So who the hell were these people?
Jericho carefully replaced the skull and stared about the pit, his mirror's light slowly moving across the mess of bones. "Have a look around, see if you can find anything that could have been dropped, when the bodies were placed here." He told the team quietly. But Alex held up her skull and said very quietly; "Boys, I don't think these are human skeletons." Now that did grab the 'boys' attention.
They gathered around Alex and she pointed out the natural indentations behind where the ears would have been. Human didn't have such grooves. She turned the skull over and everyone could see where she was pointing; the teeth had a large incisor at each end; like a big cat would have. Everyone now checked more skulls and stopped, after examining about twenty; everyone had the same strange aberrations.
Jericho lifted a skull and stared at it. He ran his mirror over it and had the same result. No record of this human existed, which as Alex pointed out; was impossible. Human Records had a file on every single human that ever existed or would exist. So who the hell were these people?
Jericho carefully replaced the skull and stared about the pit, his mirror's light slowly moving across the mess of bones. "Have a look around, see if you can find anything that could have been dropped, when the bodies were placed here." He told the team quietly. But Alex held up her skull and said very quietly; "Boys, I don't think these are human skeletons." Now that did grab the 'boys' attention.
They gathered around Alex and she pointed out the natural indentations behind where the ears would have been. Human didn't have such grooves. She turned the skull over and everyone could see where she was pointing; the teeth had a large incisor at each end; like a big cat would have. Everyone now checked more skulls and stopped, after examining about twenty; everyone had the same strange aberrations.
"They were probably very similar to us human's, but I don't think they were 'Homo-sapiens', more likely a branch of humanity that could pass it self off as modern humans. This is incredible. A new family of humanity; another branch of the human tree." Alex said quietly and carefully replaced the skull and started to examine the bones that came with the strange skull.
Jericho stood, deep in thought and looked about the cave floor. There were probably at least thirty separate bodies here. Many had marks of a violent death; Alex confirmed that; she had found already found several arrow heads sticking onto bones. Wilson held up one skull that a split right across the back. "An axe probably." He told Owen, who lifted another skull, which still had the tip of the spear lodged in the eye socket. "They were butchered." Alex said softly.
Wilson nodded and wiped his face; "There are teeth marks on some of the bones. Someone set dogs on them as well." Alex sighed; what humans did, sometimes left her feeling totally disgusted with the human race. Owen was poking amongst the bones and stopped by one big skeleton. He stared hard at it.
Wilson nodded and wiped his face; "There are teeth marks on some of the bones. Someone set dogs on them as well." Alex sighed; what humans did, sometimes left her feeling totally disgusted with the human race. Owen was poking amongst the bones and stopped by one big skeleton. He stared hard at it.
That's when Owen's sharp eye caught something beneath a rib cage, he had to gently pull the large bones aside to pull the packet out. He held it up for the others; "Unless someone has been here before us or even before the wall collapsed, then a careless time traveller has been here. This didn't even exist in 1891, never mind when these poor sods were massacred." It was an empty packet of 'Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing gum.' He held his mirror over it and grunted; "This packet was sold sometime between 1981 and 1985." He said and handed it to Wilson.
Alex quietly called them over two skeletons laying against the far wall of the pit, she knelt down and held the light from her mirror, over the pair; they seemed to be holding hands. But that was not the remarkable thing about the pair. "Bullet holes." She whispered and looked up at Jericho. Owen shook his head; "Now this really doesn't make any bloody sense." No one could disagree with that.
Alex dug her fingers into the soil below one and held up a small flat headed ball. "It's a musket ball, made of lead. Probably made before the 1870's. They started using proper metal casings after that." Jericho muttered, taking the ball and running his mirror over it. "Yes, its a musket ball made between 1847 and 1851." He said softly. Wilson rubbed his chin; "We appear to have murder victims from across several centuries; all dumped down here for whatever reason."
"And all victims with the same strange indentation behind the ears and the incisor teeth. But they must have been killed over different centuries and dumped down here. Which means; there must have been an entrance to these caves existing in the chapel above. But who knew about it?" Jericho said and stared around the cave.
"It also means, that these strange humans have lived here for centuries; amongst the people of Woodley." Alex sighed and checked her mirror for any updates on the mysterious human remains. "Does this mean that some of these people could still be alive in the village; today?" Owen asked. "Good fucking question." Muttered Wilson.
Alex quietly called them over two skeletons laying against the far wall of the pit, she knelt down and held the light from her mirror, over the pair; they seemed to be holding hands. But that was not the remarkable thing about the pair. "Bullet holes." She whispered and looked up at Jericho. Owen shook his head; "Now this really doesn't make any bloody sense." No one could disagree with that.
Alex dug her fingers into the soil below one and held up a small flat headed ball. "It's a musket ball, made of lead. Probably made before the 1870's. They started using proper metal casings after that." Jericho muttered, taking the ball and running his mirror over it. "Yes, its a musket ball made between 1847 and 1851." He said softly. Wilson rubbed his chin; "We appear to have murder victims from across several centuries; all dumped down here for whatever reason."
"And all victims with the same strange indentation behind the ears and the incisor teeth. But they must have been killed over different centuries and dumped down here. Which means; there must have been an entrance to these caves existing in the chapel above. But who knew about it?" Jericho said and stared around the cave.
"It also means, that these strange humans have lived here for centuries; amongst the people of Woodley." Alex sighed and checked her mirror for any updates on the mysterious human remains. "Does this mean that some of these people could still be alive in the village; today?" Owen asked. "Good fucking question." Muttered Wilson.
"I'll get directions from Operations Control about this." Jericho muttered and walked to the ladder, adding: "We'll find a decent pub and book in for the night. I think, we need to take a closer look at this." Owen nodded; "I'll call Supplies and get some more clothes and stuff."
Alex watched Jericho disappearing up the ladder and then looked around, she spoke to Wilson; "A completely unknown branch of the human family tree, living here, what... some thirteen hundred years ago and could still be here....today; that's incredible." Wilson grunted and smiled a little; "Well, someone didn't think they were that incredible; they murdered them. Sometimes on mass."
Alex watched Jericho disappearing up the ladder and then looked around, she spoke to Wilson; "A completely unknown branch of the human family tree, living here, what... some thirteen hundred years ago and could still be here....today; that's incredible." Wilson grunted and smiled a little; "Well, someone didn't think they were that incredible; they murdered them. Sometimes on mass."
4. THE PUB FROM HELL.
There was only one pub, in the village, that did 'bed & breakfast' and the team halted outside it. Owen stared at the pub sign, pulling off his bicycle clips and smiled; "Now that's what I call an interesting pub name." Everyone looked up at the sign and had to agree with him. They were about to book into 'The Devil & The Dog' tavern; the sign had a grinning black devil - complete with pitch fork - and what looked like a wolf; wearing a gold collar.
There was only one pub, in the village, that did 'bed & breakfast' and the team halted outside it. Owen stared at the pub sign, pulling off his bicycle clips and smiled; "Now that's what I call an interesting pub name." Everyone looked up at the sign and had to agree with him. They were about to book into 'The Devil & The Dog' tavern; the sign had a grinning black devil - complete with pitch fork - and what looked like a wolf; wearing a gold collar.
Their cover story was a simple one; they were on a cycling holiday, visiting places of interest and enjoying the warm summer weather. Jericho and Alex stood by the bar, which was empty of staff or patrons and Jericho rang the little brass bell on the counter.
Wilson and Owen came through the door and dumped the luggage by the foot of the stairs. "Quite nice." Muttered Owen looking around the pictures on the walls. A large sweating man appeared by the counter, wiping his hands. He had a huge moustache that almost hid his mouth and appeared to be propping up his nose! He wiped his face with the cloth and leaned on the bar; staring at Alex. Jericho started to ask about rooms for the team, but the fat man waved him silent; "Never mind that mate. Who's she married too? We're a respectable pub and don't serve single women or allow them to stay overnight. Who's responsible for her?"
Wilson and Owen came through the door and dumped the luggage by the foot of the stairs. "Quite nice." Muttered Owen looking around the pictures on the walls. A large sweating man appeared by the counter, wiping his hands. He had a huge moustache that almost hid his mouth and appeared to be propping up his nose! He wiped his face with the cloth and leaned on the bar; staring at Alex. Jericho started to ask about rooms for the team, but the fat man waved him silent; "Never mind that mate. Who's she married too? We're a respectable pub and don't serve single women or allow them to stay overnight. Who's responsible for her?"
Jericho quietly kicked Alex's foot before she opened her mouth. He removed his hat and smiled; "Good evening sir, I an the Reverend Jericho Tibbs and this is my sister Alexandra. That gentleman [indicating Wilson] is the Reverend Wilson Franklyn from New York on a sabbatical here in our wonderful country. The young man is my curate Owen Jones. We would like four rooms, if you have them and book some dinner." He smiled broadly, clutching his hat to his chest. Owen stared at the 'dog collar' that had appeared round Jericho's neck, as he unbuttoned his jacket a little. "How does he do it? I mean, he seems to know about things before they happen." He said quietly to Wilson.
Wilson just chuckled; "That's why he's an Inspector." and decided a cold beer would go down a treat. He would be disappointed; there was only bitter and stout available and they were both served at room temperature; larger beer hadn't quite made Woodley - yet. The sweaty man relaxed and almost smiled; "That's fine Reverend, but I only have two rooms available; my only other one went to the engineer from the Arch-bishop's office. He's here about the old Chapel. It just fell down. Just like that." He slammed a hand on the bar and smiled.
"Ah, that's quite awkward and posses quite a problem. Three of us being men and the other; a lady." Jericho smiled at the man, who rubbed his face; "I get your gist Reverend. But your sister can share with my mother and I'll only charge you half price for that. Me old mum won't mind; she's loves company. Now, how about a drink?" Jericho nodded and almost chuckled; the look on Alex's face was priceless. They had a drink and were shown their rooms; Jericho and Owen would share and Wilson had one to himself. he really smiled at that.
The big man took Alex to a small room at the top of the attic stairs and flung open the door. There was distinct smell of lavender perfume and urine about the room. There was double bed filled with a large old lady, gripping an ear trumpet. She screwed up her face; "Me pot needs bleeding emptying." Was all she said.
Alex just stared at her. John Butcher [the pub landlord] smiled; "The wife will see to that. Now make yourself comfortable. Dinner is at seven." Alex was actually speechless, when the big woman shifted in bed and farted loudly. John Butcher pulled up the window a little; "I'm sure you two girls will get on." and hurriedly left the room.
Alex just stared at her. John Butcher [the pub landlord] smiled; "The wife will see to that. Now make yourself comfortable. Dinner is at seven." Alex was actually speechless, when the big woman shifted in bed and farted loudly. John Butcher pulled up the window a little; "I'm sure you two girls will get on." and hurriedly left the room.
Alex stood clutching her overnight bag and smiled a little; the big woman held her ear trumpet up; "Your a pretty little thing. Get undressed and squeeze in. We'll keep it each other warm eh?" She eased herself up in the bed and farted loudly again. Smiling, she shouted; "Gawd, that's better. I had beans and liver for tea, does it every time."
Alex just disappeared through the door; she was in Jericho and Owen's room in an instant. They both fell about the room laughing as Alex explained - quote - 'I'm not sharing the bloody room with that old woman, farting, shouting and pissing all night; do something about it!' - and she meant it.
Alex just disappeared through the door; she was in Jericho and Owen's room in an instant. They both fell about the room laughing as Alex explained - quote - 'I'm not sharing the bloody room with that old woman, farting, shouting and pissing all night; do something about it!' - and she meant it.
After a heated discussion; it was decided, the boys would all share one room and Alex would have Wilson's smaller one to herself. There were two beds in Jericho's room and Owen was given the sofa; he wasn't happy. Especially knowing that there was a comfortable bed going spare in Alex's room. He protested again to Jericho; "I don't mind sharing with Alex; I'll behave myself. Honestly." Jericho didn't smile or say anything; he just pointed to the sofa. Owen knew that was the end of discussions about the sleeping arrangements.
Wilson dropped onto the small bed by the window and groaned; "The fucking mattress must be made of bricks!" Owen actually grinned at that; the sofa was wonderfully soft.
Wilson dropped onto the small bed by the window and groaned; "The fucking mattress must be made of bricks!" Owen actually grinned at that; the sofa was wonderfully soft.
They assembled downstairs and were shown a large table by the window. A tall skinny woman with few teeth and a dirty apron appeared at the table and slapped plates down. She scratched her arms constantly; "Tonight its shepherds pie and carrots. The soups off; the cat got it." was all she explained and disappeared back to the kitchen. Wilson lifted his warm pint of bitter and sighed; "Warm beer, hard beds and three to a room. What can get worse?"
The woman returned and poured 'shepherds pie' onto each plate, coughed violently and went back to fetch the carrots. They really didn't improve the meal. Owen prodded them with a fork; "I think the bloody cat got these too."
The pub soon filled with locals; all smoking like Battersea power station in its heyday and it was obvious most had been working in the fields. The smell of sweat and manure filled the place. Only the team seemed to notice that.
Alex sat back in her hard chair and sighed; "Do you realise that apart from the landlord's missus and his bloody foul old mother, I'm the only woman in the place." Jericho shrugged his shoulders; "Most woman - the married one's - would be at home with the kids and the single ones would certainly not be allowed to go to the pub. That's life for women around here at this time." Even Owen couldn't manage to finish his meal; now that amazed Wilson.
Everyone looked up as two big farm hands stood at the end of the table; a pint in each hand and stared at Alex. Jericho nodded at the pair and said; "Good evening gentlemen, can we help you?"
Alex sat back in her hard chair and sighed; "Do you realise that apart from the landlord's missus and his bloody foul old mother, I'm the only woman in the place." Jericho shrugged his shoulders; "Most woman - the married one's - would be at home with the kids and the single ones would certainly not be allowed to go to the pub. That's life for women around here at this time." Even Owen couldn't manage to finish his meal; now that amazed Wilson.
Everyone looked up as two big farm hands stood at the end of the table; a pint in each hand and stared at Alex. Jericho nodded at the pair and said; "Good evening gentlemen, can we help you?"
They didn't reply but stood staring at Alex; who shifted uncomfortably in her hard seat. Finally someone called them back to the crowd in the public bar; the darts match was underway. Their place was taken by two younger farm workers who also stood and stared at Alex. They sipped their pints and nodded to each other. Jericho, with teeth gritted a little, asked them; "Good evening gentlemen, can we help you?" They said nothing and walked off.
"Apparently your part of the entertainment tonight." Wilson said to Alex, who folded her arms and stared at the floor. Owen went to the bar for more drinks. He came back some minutes later with a tray; laughing to himself. He handed the drinks round and sat back down. Alex slapped his arm; "Where's my cider?" Owen didn't smile; "The landlord said you've had two already and that's your limit. He won't serve you another until tomorrow."
"First he thinks I'm like a child with 'whose responsible for her' and now he checks how many bloody drinks I have!" Alex was not a happy woman. It was also the final straw for her; she went to her room, sulking at her treatment. But as she started to walk up the stairs, a group of men crowded around the bottom and watched her mount the stairs. They all cheered as she lifted each foot up and and made the top, they loved getting a glimpse of her ankles and shoes.
A little red faced and angry she slammed the bedroom door and her mood didn't improve, when she found it had no lock. She shoved a chair under the door handle and sat on the rock hard bed; clutching her mirror. She must have fallen asleep, sitting up and woke suddenly.
The room was in darkness and she read her mirror for the local time; it was just after midnight. She stood and stretched, then went to the small window and jerked back the curtain. The street was dark and silent, but she could see lights by the old ruins; lots of them. There were people at the old Chapel. She pulled the chair away and slowly opened her door, peeking into the corridor. She almost jumped as Wilson looked up and grinned - he was sitting outside her door, reading his mirror - the big man eased himself up.
"I thought I'd sit outside until that lot pissed off home. I really didn't like they way they were looking at you. I didn't think they would mess with a big, nasty looking black man." He chuckled and tapped gently on Jericho's door and Owen pulled it open.
"I thought I'd sit outside until that lot pissed off home. I really didn't like they way they were looking at you. I didn't think they would mess with a big, nasty looking black man." He chuckled and tapped gently on Jericho's door and Owen pulled it open.
"There are lights and...." She said softly, but Owen gestured for them to come in. Jericho was at the small window, staring up the street towards the chapel ruins. "There must be at least twenty or thirty people up there. What the hell are they doing at this time of night?" Owen whispered to her. She didn't know, but smiled broadly at Wilson and thanked him quietly for his night-time vigil. He just grinned and rubbed his back.
"I think we best find out what's going on; discretely." Jericho muttered and the team headed - very quietly - from the pub towards the ruins.
"I think we best find out what's going on; discretely." Jericho muttered and the team headed - very quietly - from the pub towards the ruins.
5. MIDNIGHT MURDER AND A DEMON DROPS BY.
They came up from behind the chapel and crouched low behind the small stone wall that surrounded the graveyard. There were several men standing over the hole, carrying paraffin lamps. Two really big men had ropes curled around their chests and were knelling; speaking softly down the hole. Someone was down the pit. Jericho gestured towards the tent, which had light showing through the flap. Someone was in there too.
They came up from behind the chapel and crouched low behind the small stone wall that surrounded the graveyard. There were several men standing over the hole, carrying paraffin lamps. Two really big men had ropes curled around their chests and were knelling; speaking softly down the hole. Someone was down the pit. Jericho gestured towards the tent, which had light showing through the flap. Someone was in there too.
"What the fuck are they doing by the wall?" Owen whispered to Jericho; there were three men digging along the length of the wall that had previously, partially subsided. That's when Owen saw the cables running from the wall towards the gates of the external chapel wall. Jericho rubbed his face; "I think they're going to blow the bloody thing up!" He said softly.
Their attention was drawn back to the tent. The flap was flung open and a well dressed young man stood in the torchlight. He must have been over six feet tall and strikingly handsome. Jericho thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled his orb out.
Everyone watched as the circumference showed red streaks; a minion of the Dark Prince and no one was surprised. Owen held his mirror up to his face and whispered to the others; "It's bloody Ceebrus; now a Tier One demon." Jericho sat back against the stone wall and wiped his face, he spoke softly; "This has taken a real serious turn for the worse." He nodded to Wilson, who operated his mirror. "He's on his way." Was all Wilson said. Alex peered carefully over the wall and turned back to Jericho; "They've pulled someone up from the pit and are now heading for the gates!"
"Now what the fuck are they doing?" Owen looked over the wall and could see no one insight; not even their old adversary; Ceebrus. They could just make out a voice speaking; he was saying; "Four, three..." Jericho jabbed the emergency travel app on his mirror and the team disappeared; just as the explosions started and the chapel came crashing to earth, part of the graveyard went with it and so did the wall; they were just hiding behind.
They returned immediately from outside the lighthouse and found themselves amongst the ruins of the chapel. Apart from a doorway or two and the odd bit of wall; it had disappeared into the pit, which was now sealed up. They could see many people gathering in the streets of the village; there were lamps and torches everywhere. Many were shouting and talking amongst themselves. Nearly every house had lights on. It was chaos.
That's when everyone noticed Herbie the Collector standing by a couple of overturned headstones. He smiled and held up his soul ledger; "I just collected the soul of a certain Engineer called Thomas Wycliff. He tells me that someone smashed him over the head, as he was working late in the tent. He's body is in the pit. He didn't see who killed him." Jericho nodded; "Someone is tidying this up. I bet the engineer had examined the skeletons, maybe sketched or took pictures of them. Ceebrus had papers in his hand, coming out the tent. They're getting rid of the evidence. I wonder who else saw the bones?"
"I wouldn't like to be in their shoes; unless their part of the cover up." Wilson muttered, then grinned at James - a Knight of God - who walked over and shook hands all round. He took a deep breath and smiled; "I cannot sense Ceebrus, he must have gone; for now." He was dressed as a gentleman of this time period and carried a large bag which he held up; "I stopped off and picked up some urgent supplies." He rattled the bag; bottles!
"Two bottles of decent brandy." He chuckled and Alex patted his arm; "Now that's best thing that has happened all bloody day." She said softly. "Amen to that." Owen remarked and stared back down to the village; a mob was heading their way. "Let's get the fuck out of here." was all Jericho said. They returned to the pub and found it open; but empty.
They sat in the deserted bar and James passed a bottle of brand around. Owen 'borrowed' glasses from the bar and the team enjoyed a well earned drink; especially Alex, who nursed her glass like a new mother. "Your report to the duty controller has set the cat amongst the pigeons. It's gone to the BOSS himself. No one seems to know anything about these strange humans." James was speaking to Jericho who sipped his brandy and nodded; "I think something has been going on here for centuries and we've just stumbled upon it."
"With Ceebrus on the scene, I would bet that the Dark Prince knows all about this." Wilson said and finished his brandy. "They cannot have souls, otherwise we would have records on them. So whose creation are they?" Alex spoke softly, then saw the bags at the foot of the stairs. They weren't there, when the team had left for the ruins earlier.
Owen wandered over and tool a look; "They have baggage labels on them from the 'SS Viceroy of India' and the name is..." He shifted them a little and pulled up a large brown label; fastened with string to the handles. He chuckled and shook his head; "Guess whose bloody name is on the tickets?"
Everyone just shrugged their shoulders; "Colonel Alexander McIves!" He said and wiped his face, adding; "What the hell is he doing here?" There was surprised silence until Alex held up her mirror; "That ship docked in Liverpool just three days ago; from Australia. There is a couple of McIves on the passenger list..." Alex stopped talking and stared at her mirror.
"What is it?" Wilson asked, refilling his and Alex's glass, then offered the bottle around. Alex almost smiled; "There are two McIves listed, an Alexander McIves and a Mrs. Elizabeth McIves; he's bloody married!"
There was a further surprised silence until Jericho chuckled; "I wonder how many Mrs. McIves there been, over the centuries he's been knocking around?" James nodded; "But what is he doing now, at this time and place; that can't be just a coincidence?" Owen returned to his seat and downed his brandy, looking for a refill, but the bottle was empty. Sighing, he walked to the door and didn't smile; "We have a large, angry looking mob heading this way." and returned to the table.
The men spilled into the pub, shouting and talking amongst themselves. They stopped and the room fell silent; they were staring at the team. The pub landlord pushed through them and stood in front of the table, arms folded. "All the noise disturbed you folks?" He said quietly. Jericho rose and smiled; "What's going on sir? Is it some sort of local midnight festival?" The landlord chuckled; "You can say that reverend." Then he saw the bags at the foot of the stairs and turned back to the crowd of silent men behind him. "More have turned up; find them." Several of the men left quickly. He turned back to Jericho and stared at James. "You have a friend?" James stood and smiled; "Just dropped by to see my friends. Colonel McIves at your service. Those are my bags."
One of the men walked lover and read the labels; he nodded to the landlord, who immediately told another man to fetch the other men back. He grinned; "Let us show you just how friendly to strangers we can be." There were knives, clubs, shovels and sticks appearing amongst the group. The landlord grinned; "We'll take care of the men and then share the pretty little girl amongst ourselves." The mob cheered at that. Then they were all standing in silence; like mannequins in a shop window. James had stopped time. He sighed; "Lets find bloody McIves and his missus before they get to sample the local hospitality."
6. CWENHILD'S DAUGHTER...OR NOT!
The left their table and headed for the street. Alex stopped in front of the big ugly landlord and kicked him straight in the testicles - she felt better for that - "Share the bloody 'pretty little girl' would you!" Wilson and Owen cringed and reminded themselves never, ever, to get on the wrong side of Alex; if they valued their balls. James and Jericho just sighed. The street was full of 'armed' men, all with angry contorted faces. "Friendly fuckers aren't they?" Muttered Owen, clutching James's bag to his chest. He wasn't about to leave such a decent bottle of brandy to these animals.
The left their table and headed for the street. Alex stopped in front of the big ugly landlord and kicked him straight in the testicles - she felt better for that - "Share the bloody 'pretty little girl' would you!" Wilson and Owen cringed and reminded themselves never, ever, to get on the wrong side of Alex; if they valued their balls. James and Jericho just sighed. The street was full of 'armed' men, all with angry contorted faces. "Friendly fuckers aren't they?" Muttered Owen, clutching James's bag to his chest. He wasn't about to leave such a decent bottle of brandy to these animals.
They could find no trace of the elusive McIves or his new wife. That's when the sharp eyed Owen noticed the two figures below an empty hay cart. He walked over and stared at them. "People. come and take a look at these two. I don't think they're with the mob." Everyone gathered around and James rubbed his chin; "Human Records have no trace of them." Knights of God didn't need bloody mirrors to tell them anything! Alex took a closer look with the light from her mirror and nodded; "He's right. They are the same species as the one's in the pit, but a lot more human." Jericho nodded; "They're becoming more human with probably every generation. Breeding with the native humans must have taken place."
"Well, let's have a little chat." James said and the pair crept from under the cart and stared at the Detectives, wide eyed and a little afraid. The two young boys then dropped to the floor and grabbed Alex's dress; "Cwenhild's daughter, save us!" Everyone looked at each other; "Friends of yours Alex?" Wilson muttered, smiling. Alex pulled the boys up and they held tightly onto her. "Who the hell is Cwenhild and who's her bloody daughter?" She asked no one in particular. Owen chuckled and explained about the local legend. Alex patted the boys but said; "Bloody charming. They think I'm the descendant of a mad witch and a bloody big savage dog!" Owen grunted; "After seeing what you did to the landlord; they could be onto something." Everyone laughed at that - including Alex.
They took the trembling boys back to the pub and Owen gave them some lemonade; They kept looking at the 'frozen' men and simply wouldn't let go of Alex. She gently rustled their thick dark hair and said sadly; "Their absolutely terrified. What the hell has been going on in this dump?" James leaned across the table and smiled at the boys, but spoke to the team; "In a word; genocide. Over the centuries, the local natives have been culling them. Getting rid of of what they believe is an evasive species. Hitler had a pretty similar idea and look how that turned out."
The older boy slowly put down his glass and said softly; "They believed that the old Chapel collapsing was a sign that Cwenhild's daughter would return for revenge." He gripped Alex tightly and whispered; "And she has!" He fumbled around his neck and pulled a small silver locket out and held it up; there was a drawing of woman. It could have been Alex's twin sister. He tapped the locket and smiled; "Cwenhild's daughter."
Now they really did cause silence at the table. Owen stared at it and nodded; "I always knew there was something odd about our Alex. The howling at night, the witches caldron and broom. We should have guessed." That broke the sombre mood and everyone chuckled. "Well, I think we should get these two back to their families." Alex said, patting the boys who grinned broadly. The older one; called Ralph slowly placed his empty glass upon the table. "Our people have gathered at the shrine. The Shrine of Creation deep in Woodley Woods. it is our most holy place." Everyone nodded; "Can you take us there?" Alex asked him, rustling his dark curly hair. He nodded; "Cwenhilds daughter would be most welcome."
Alex sighed at that and the team left the pub and followed the two boys who clung tightly to Alex's dress. Once they reached the edge of the dark woods; James restarted time and everyone heard the screams in the distance; from the pub. Owen chuckled, but grimaced; "I think the landlord has just felt Alex's little present." They headed deep into the woods; their mirrors illuminating the darkness. It became apparent that the two boys didn't need torches to see in the dark. They must have walked for a good couple of hours and suddenly came upon a large group of people gathered by a huge oak tree. It dominated the place and was hung with various strange symbols made from metal and wood. There were a dozen or so human skulls laid reverently about its wide base.
Ralph and the other boy ran to a tall dark haired woman and grabbed her skirts, shouting that Gwenhild's daughter had saved them from death at the hands of the mad villagers. The large group stood in silence and stared at the strangers. James gestured for Alex to join him and Jericho. He held up a hand and asked if they may speak to the people of the forest. An old woman stepped forward; she had long silver hair and was dressed in black and white, She held out a silver coloured plate with both hands. "They are not living humans!" She shouted and a murmurer ran through the crowd. She lowered the plate and smiled - she had no teeth - "They have been raised from the dead by their God and come from many different times. They have the power to help us; if they wish." The crowd started to talk amongst themselves. The old woman walked straight up to Alex and stared hard at her face.
"Not Gwenhild's daughter." She muttered and gripped the strange plate to her chest. Alex smiled at her; "You don't know how happy that makes me considering the ancestry I would have had!" Owen lowered his mirror; "That plate wasn't made on this Earth. It's not silver alloy, but close. It's from another planet." He said softly and James nodded; "Just like their ancestors I strongly suspect." Wilson whistled; "Bloody aliens from another planet. They resemble humans so closely; that can't be a co-incidence." James sighed; "I understand that the human form is common amongst the worlds created by the Gods. But there are subtle differences between the many human species, just like the differences between homo-sapiens and Neanderthals, here on Earth."
The old woman gestured for them to follow and she walked to the great tree and bending low, disappeared beneath its huge roots that lay above the ground. James shrugged his shoulders; "Come on. I think we're in for more surprises." Being a Knight of God; he was usually right. He certainly was on this occasion. They disappeared into the darkness of the tree's roots and the crowd gathered around; in silence.
7. THE PLACE OF CREATION.
Like the two boys; the old woman didn't need a torch to see in the darkness. The team shone their mirrors about. It was a tunnel sloping continuedly downwards. They walked for some minutes, keeping low to avoid the roots protruding from the ceiling and walls. Finally they emerged into a large cave and stood in utter astonishment at what lay before them. It resembled the remains of a large metallic egg. But parts were missing and one end was crumpled badly. "Must have crash landed." Owen muttered; checking his mirror. The old woman knelt before the strange object and raised both hands. She spoke in a language that even the temporal detectives couldn't understand.
James stood back and whispered; "I think she's calling for someone or something. Look at her gestures." The old woman was making welcome signs with her hands and arms; gesturing to something. The team watched in silence as a little yellow light started to appear somewhere deep in the wreckage. Owen grunted; "Its some form of energy, but my mirror can't identify it which is incredible." The light grew bigger, changing to white as it expanded. "It must have lain down here for thousands of years; if that bloody oak tree grew to that size above it." Wilson said quietly; he was sweating even though the cave was quite cool. Everyone jumped back a little as the form appeared by the 'egg'. It was a hologram.
Everyone gasped a little; the woman was dressed in white trousers, white buttonless blouse and a neat black jacket, her dark hair tied back. She really did look like Alex! She held up a hand and started to speak. She didn't acknowledge the old woman or the strangers. "It's a recording." Jericho said simply - well disappointed - and consulted his mirror. "I would love to know what she's saying." Muttered Owen and stared hard at the hologrammatic woman. "Take a look around her neck." He added softly. They could see the necklace clearly; a pinecone. "Ancient Sumerian holy image. They also worshipped a holy tree that represented wisdom." Owen said and wiped his face; he was sweating too.
James snapped his fingers and smiled a little; "The bloody language is some corrupted form of ancient Sumerian!" He declared and Owen nodded; "Brilliant deduction James. I think your right." He tapped at his mirror and stared hard at the result. "I think the hologram is speaking the original and what we understand as ancient Sumerian is the corrupted version of the language. We may be able to decipher a few words." The hologram stopped speaking and lowered her head. She was gone.
The old woman slowly rose from the dirt and clasped the plate close to her breasts. "The sacred oracle has spoken." She said simply and gestured to the wreckage. "The egg that gave life is silent again." She pushed the plate into the folds of her skirt and walked slowly back to the tunnel entrance. The team followed. Jericho had to tell Owen to come; he was busy operating his mirror. He soon caught up with the others. It was hard work walking back up the incline of the tunnel and Owen panted; "Do you know what is absolutely incredible about that egg craft?" Wilson slapped his back; "You mean apart from the fact that its Alien and and crashed here thousands of years ago?" He chuckled.
"No. That the bloody thing is not metal; its organic in nature. They [the aliens?] must have grown the bloody thing!" He gasped, catching his breath; "Now that is some bloody incredible technology." They emerged just as the sun was rising. They all looked at each other. "How long were we down there?" Wilson asked and checked his mirror. Six hours had passed! Jericho rubbed his chin; "Accelerated time. But only down there. Now that's bloody interesting."
The little clearing was empty. The old woman sat on large tree stump and wiped her face and neck with a bright yellow rag. "Can you help us?" She asked. James nodded; "I will return and obtain instructions about your people and how we can assist." He patted the sad old lady and turned to Jericho; "I'll take this to the Arch-Angel himself and get clear instructions about assisting these people. They may not have souls in our existence, but they are members of the human family. Maybe their God can assist." He grinned and was gone.
The old woman was completely unfazed that James had dematerialised right before her eyes. She rose from the stump and brushed down her skirt; "Follow me. You cannot return now to the village. They will be hunting for you." Jericho nodded and called Alex over; she was studying the skulls laid at the base of the tree. The team followed the woman into the forest. Alex caught up with Jericho and spoke quietly; "Those skulls are human. Not from the the 'new people'. I ran my mirror over four of them and each one was identified as a missing soul. All quite recent really; the last one I checked was from the 1850's. All four I checked were young woman when their souls went missing. Something is bloody wrong here." Jericho grunted; "But the demon was assisting the villagers. If those people [the skulls] were all from here over the years, then only demonic activity could steal their souls; they are not time travellers apparently. That doesn't make sense."
"Exactly. It doesn't make sense. How the hell did their souls go missing?" Alex said and stared at the old woman walking in front of them. "I think that old lady knows more than she's going to tell us." Jericho rubbed his chin and stared about; they were heading deep into the dark forest which was strangely quiet; no sounds of anything. He pulled out his mirror and tapped a couple of times. He sighed; "Lets get out of here." The team vanished and the old lady laughed to herself and walked on; smiling.
Jericho had transported the team to Woodley Turnpike - some miles from the village - and they gathered around him. "Check your mirrors and you'll find that we are now in 1789. As we walked deeper into the forest with the old woman; we were travelling back in time. I believe that bloody craft is leaking time. The first clue was the lost six hours. We were only down there for an hour at the most. But elsewhere time had moved on. Now the bloody forest appears to reverse time. That egg is bloody dangerous and I believe, so are the 'other human's' we have encountered." Owen nodded; "I believe their technology is organic in base and doesn't conform to our laws of physic's that rule this world. Now that could be really dangerous."
Wilson folded his arms; "I would love to know how the owners of those skulls died." Alex agreed with him; "All young women. No, that can't be a co-incidence. Why place them around that bloody old tree like some bloody sacrifice..." She stopped talking and groaned a little. "Maybe we have just discovered why the locals hate them so much." Owen sighed; "A lot of pagan cultures had human sacrifice." Jericho looked about; "I think the collapse of Woodley Chapel has - somehow - trigged something with the egg, started up some old programme that is now running. But what it will do do escapes me." Owen held up his mirror and grinned; "My mirror has managed to translate some of the words spoken by the hologram."
Jericho nodded at him and Owen stared down at his mirror; "We have 'greetings', lots of unknown words, then 'travellers'...'Distance' and 'possession'. He hesitated and didn't smile; "She said 'New masters', then lots of unknowns, then 'obey' and finally...." He grunted and looked up from his mirror; "Death." Alex sighed; "Scouts looking for a new world to conquest?" She asked and Wilson nodded; "Columbus only turned up with a couple of ships and a few men. Then look what happened. They must have crashed and never informed their people about the earth." Owen rubbed his face; "But some must have survived to mingle with the local population, but couldn't get a message back home. It must have come as quite a shock; from the space age to the stone age in one hard hit."
8. THE DEVIL'S LEGACY.
The team had returned to 1891 and now watched the village from a small hill. It looked absolutely deserted. No one was on the streets and all the doors and windows were closed. There was still some light grey smoke arising from the remains of the chapel. Jericho lowered his small binoculars and turned to Wilson; "Not a bloody soul. Where is everyone?" Wilson just shrugged his shoulders; he didn't have a clue where an entire village could disappear too. Alex tapped Jericho's arm: "Who the hell is that on that old tandem bike?" Jericho adjusted his binoculars and Wilson grunted; "That looks like the bike that Supplies gave you and Jericho."
Jericho chuckled; "Its bloody McIves and a very pretty young woman. He must have pinched our bike last night." He stood and waved; as did the others. The couple stopped in the deserted high road and stared up at the hill. McIves waved slowly and the pair cycled down the street and out of the village, heading towards the small hill. The team headed down the gentle slope and reached the dirt road that ran into the village. They had to smile as the tandem bike came into view. McIves sat up in the saddle and gave a cheery wave. He pulled up in front of them and jumped from the bike, holding it up until the young lady had dismounted - quite gracefully - and adjusted her culottes and gorgeous little hat.
McIves jerked a thumb at her and smiled broadly; "Meet the wife; Lizzie." He said and shook hands all round; well, except Alex who he kissed on the cheek. Alex gave a wry smile; "Please introduce us to your new wife Alexander." McIves grinned; "Lizzie, this is Alexandra or Alex as she prefers, the Reverend is her brother. Mr. Wilson is from New York and young Owen is the reverends curate." He smiled - quite sheepishly - at the team. Lizzie gripped Alex's hand and smiled; "I just know that we'll be friends. Alex has told me all about you and your friends." She had a profound Australian accent. Alexandra just smiled and thought to herself; Oh, I bet he hasn't!
Owen tapped Wilson and whispered; "Same hair and eyes, same stunning figure; she looks a lot like our Alex. I bet that's no co-incidence." Wilson just nodded and smiled; he wondered if Alex would notice the close resemblance to herself. McIves had pulled Jericho to one side and the pair were deep in conversation; quiet conversation. Lizzie admitted that they had returned to the pub last night and found the place deserted and not just the pub; but the whole village. She sighed loudly and was a little angry that someone had gone through their baggage. She whispered to Alex that someone had stolen all her new underwear. She had only just purchased the stuff for the honeymoon. Lizzie went a little red at that confession. Alex just sighed and agreed with her. Wilson and Owen were impressed; Alex was behaving like a lady - no swearing about perverts - and really sympathetic; woman to woman.
That's when Wilson really did have to chuckle - he gestured down the roadway - to a 'gypsy' caravan approaching. The driver sat up and waved a little. Owen slapped a hand over his face and couldn't help laughing. It was James! He was dressed for the part; complete with colourful jacket and trousers. He even had large ear rings and a cheeky little red hat. A guitar was propped up on the seat next to him. He stopped the horse and Owen recognised the horse; it was 'Atlas' that Wilson usually got lumbered with.
James greeted everyone and nodded at McIves. He knew him well. Lizzie was absolutely amazed that her new husband actually knew a gypsy. But was pleasantly surprised by James offer to rest in his caravan. "Treat it like your own." He said and kissed Lizzie's hand. Lizzie gripped Alex's hand and the girls climbed in the waggon; she was in for another surprise. It was gorgeous, clean and had a kettle steaming on a small paraffin stove. "Come on Alex, lets make the boys some tea!" She exclaimed; Alex just sighed, but smiled.
The 'boys' gathered around James and the mood was quite sombre. "The shit has hit the fan. It appears that the Dark Prince knew about these creatures for some time; he's had his top demons looking after villagers here - most are worshippers of his - but he appears to have been in contact with the holy family that run the planet they are from." James folded his arms and took a little breath; "It appears that these creatures are thousands of years in advance of the humans in our time line. The craft was on a mission in their existence, when something critical happened and it crossed over into our dimension and crashed here some thousands of human years ago. Apparently the Dark Prince thought they could be of use to him, but that plan went wrong, even he couldn't control them. The creatures have human appearance but have no souls; their creators terminated them some time ago."
Jericho nodded; "Why did they do that?" He asked and James shook his head; "The creatures have few Morales and very little kindness to other life forms in their hearts. They practically destroyed their planet. They evolved - technology wise - in leaps and bounds, but didn't evolve spiritually or socially. They used the local native population like cattle." He didn't smile; "They practised human sacrifice to their imagined violent Gods and even ritual cannibalism. Their real God's simply wiped the slate clean; but never guessed that some had escaped."
"What has been decided about their fate?" Wilson asked. James shrugged his shoulders; "They are to be treated like a nasty virus and cured. They cannot be allowed to spread or increase on this planet. They are to be terminated; all of them." He jerked a thumb up to the sky, adding; "That comes from the BOSS himself." Owen sighed and stared down the road that lead to the village; "So in a way, the local natives have been right for centuries. I mean in culling them." James nodded sadly. "Now they must all be removed."
Wilson rubbed his face; "But they have been breeding with the local population. What happens to the hybrids?" James smiled a little; "Its simple actually; those without souls must go. Those that have souls can stay." Jericho nodded at that; "Simple enough. But how's it to be carried out?" James smiled; "Team X is on its way." Owen actually shuddered a little; Team X carried out all the 'dirty' work required. They were totally dedicated and totally ruthless. "Tea's ready!" Lizzie stuck her head out of the caravan door and smiled; holding up two mugs.
James smiled at McIves; "That's a little odd McIves. Your wife really looks like our Alex." McIves just grinned. Everyone gathered around the rear of the caravan and accepted mugs of hot sweet tea. Alex stepped down and smiled at McIves; "Your wife is really a lovely lady. Pity she doesn't know about your time travelling escapades or the other wives in different time periods." McIves shrugged his shoulders; "You know how it is. We were just passing through on our way to Scotland. I have an estate there in this time. I was actually going to settle down; found the right lady after all this time."
James lowered his voice and jabbed a finger at him; "I should take you in McIves. But I shall do you a big favour. You can stay here but hand over the bloody time portal. I'll arrange for your soul to be moved to these times, so that when the time comes, your bloody troublesome soul can be collected. It's that or I take you now." Owen interrupted the pair and slowly pointed up the road to the forest; "That looks bad." He said quietly. Everyone turned to see the huge clouds of black smoke rising from deep in the forest. They could make out little red flickering flames; growing bigger by the minute. James sighed; "Come on lets find out what the hell is happening now."
Owen interrupted the pair
and slowly pointed up the road to the forest; "That looks bad." He
said quietly. Everyone turned to see the huge clouds of black smoke rising from
deep in the forest. They could make out little red flickering flames; growing
bigger by the minute. James sighed; "Come on let’s find out what the hell
is happening now."
McIves and his wife were ‘civilians’ and so remained behind. The team piled into James caravan and headed down the road. They were stopped by a tall young man wearing a bright orange ‘boiler suit’. He smiled broadly and greeted James with a wave. “Hello Sir, everything is in hand. We’re just cleaning up the few that are left. “
James dropped the reigns and stared at the billowing smoke. “What happened with those that have souls?” He asked quietly and the young man smiled again – unpleasantly – and gestured to the smoke. “They have been removed to another time period before humans even existed so that no trace of the alien species remains in the future human time lines.”
He was joined by a strapping young woman wearing a black business suit. James nodded at her with some respect; “Morning Ma’am.” was all he said. Everyone knew who she was; Princess Isis – the BOSSES sister – and a very powerful member of the Holy family. She almost smiled; “It’s done. The cleanup is complete. All traces of the strangers have been removed from the current human time line. There will be a few minor changes but that is acceptable to my brother.”
She looked past James and gestured to Jericho; “Well done Inspector.” With that Team X were gone. Jericho slumped back on the seat and wiped his face. He and James were joined by the team decamping from the caravan. “Time to go home people.” He muttered and looked back up the road; McIves and new wife were gone. Now that did make him smile. The disappearance of McIves and his new wife didn’t make James smile.
But then – as Jericho always said – McIves was slippery as wet soap!
EPILOGUE:
W.A.S.
Edward Forshaw the local teacher who assisted
Wycliff knew how to keep his mouth shut. He taught in the local school until
1905 when he suddenly immigrated to Australia. He died there in 1932 and his
soul was collected and processed.
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