Oracles of Delphi Keep (37 page)

“What?” asked Theo.

Ian pointed to the window. “Snow!” he exclaimed.

“Blimey! Would you look at that?” cried Carl. “I’ve never seen snow this early before!”

Other passengers had started to notice the fluttering little flakes in the air and the train became abuzz with chatter.

“What do you make of it?” he heard Madam Dimbleby ask from somewhere behind them.

“Most unusual,” replied Thatcher.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” added the professor. “Snow in September? Unheard of!”

“I’ll need to get back to the keep quickly,” Madam Dimbleby said, fretting. “Gertie will have her hands full when the children get wind that it’s snowing outside.”

* * *

The train rolled to a stop at Dover Station and everyone hurried off, anxious to feel the soft white flakes settle onto their faces. By the time Thatcher had ushered their group into the motorcar the earl had loaned him, there was a light coating of fine powder covering the ground.

“It’s so pretty,” said Theo as she gazed out the window.

“Yes, well, it’s rather slippery to drive in,” remarked Thatcher, and Ian noticed his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

The group arrived back at the keep in short order and Thatcher dropped Madam Dimbleby off at the door. “Theo?” she asked over her shoulder. “Are you coming in?”

Theo gave her a pleading look. “Can I please go with Ian and Carl?” she asked.

“I’ll look after her,” said Thatcher. “And I’ll stop by the cottage and fetch Perry as well. We’ve still got our hunting rifles and we’ll keep watch over the children when we go looking for this tunnel.”

“Oh, very well,” said Madam Dimbleby, distracted by the commotion going on in the yard to the side of the keep. Ian could see all the orphans playing in the snow and Madam Scargill clapping her hands, working to get at least some of the children inside to put on their coats. Madam Dimbleby did pause just long enough, however, to turn back to the car and focus on Ian. “You and I shall have a chat after you get back, Ian.”

Ian gulped. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“Can we please be off now?” asked the professor moodily. “We’re wasting good daylight, after all.”

Madam Dimbleby gave him a level look but stepped back from the car and waved them a weary goodbye. The group now had only to pick up Perry and be on their way.

“So, Ian, I hear you’ve discovered yet another tunnel,” said Perry as he climbed into the car and sat beside his brother.

“Yes, sir.” Ian pointed toward Castle Dover. “Carl and I found it round the far west side of the castle.”

“And Thatcher also says that you’ve discovered some old bones as well?”

“Not just some bones, sir, we’ve found an entire skeleton!” said Carl dramatically. “And it was sticking right out of the wall!”

Perry shifted to get a better look at Carl squished next to the professor in the backseat. “You found a skeleton bricked up in one of the tunnels?”

Carl shook his head. “No, not bricked up,” he said. “It was like he was part of the wall itself!”

Perry gave him a doubtful look.
“Part
of the wall?” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, only his head and his right arm and half of one leg were sticking out. Like the wall ate him but couldn’t quite swallow him down.”

Perry and Thatcher exchanged amused looks. “I sincerely hope this isn’t some wild-goose chase,” said Perry.

Carl pouted in his corner of the car. “That’s what it looked like, I swear!” he insisted.

“We’ll see,” said Perry. Ian couldn’t wait for his schoolmaster to take a good look for himself and eat his words.

They arrived at the main road to Castle Dover and parked the car near the woods. “The helmet’s up on that hill,” said Ian. “Come this way, Professor, and I’ll show you where we’ve hidden it.”

Everyone followed Ian up the hill, with its dusting of snow, and watched as he and Carl gently pulled out the twigs and grass they’d used to cover the relic. Ian then moved aside one of the smaller rocks, and with two hands he pulled the helmet free. The professor stepped up to him and held out his hands, which Ian noticed were shaking slightly. He handed the helmet to the professor, who turned it over and looked inside. “Remarkable,” he muttered.

Thatcher looked over the professor’s shoulder and asked, “Is it authentic?”

The professor pumped his wobbly head excitedly. “Yes, I’d say so.”

Ian smiled. He hoped the helmet might also be valuable and worth a few pounds to split between him and Carl. “Do you see this mark?” asked the professor, pointing to a small squiggle on the inside of the helmet. “That is the mark of the bronzesmith who made the helmet. The Phoenicians were remarkable craftsmen, and all the great smiths stamped each of their creations personally. This is the stamp of Icarius, who was one of the very best bronze workers of his time. He crafted for generals and men of power, but very few people alive today know about him, and certainly far fewer would be familiar with his stamp, as only a handful of his creations have survived.”

Ian’s heart beat with eagerness and he smiled broadly at Carl, who beamed back. Ian wasn’t sorry any longer that
Carl had opened his big mouth and divulged their secret. Any bit of punishment was worth it if the helmet brought in a pretty penny.

Perry turned to the pair and said, “Show us where this came from, boys.”

Carl scowled distastefully. “It’s from the tunnel in the woods, over there,” he said, pointing.

“Come on,” said Ian, nudging his friend with his shoulder. “We’ll take you there.”

Ian led the way into the woods and found the odd stone structure and its hidden stairway with little trouble. “The staircase is just below these stones,” he said, standing next to the opening.

The professor wobbled forward and Ian could see his face fill with awe. “Remarkable,” he breathed as he brushed some of the ivy aside and inspected the massive stones carefully.

“Where did this come from?” asked Perry as he too moved to look at the stones more closely.

“It’s Druid-made,” said the professor and Ian’s eyes widened. He’d been right after all to think about their similarities back in the professor’s flat.

“Druid?” said Thatcher. “I didn’t know they were this far west.”

“Oh, they dominated this entire landscape for centuries,” said the professor. “You’d be surprised where some of their structures turn up, but this is very curious indeed. These stones are granite, which excludes them from the limestone quarries surrounding Dover. I can’t imagine where they came from or how they got here of all places, but it looks as if they were placed here to protect these stairs.”

It seemed to Ian that everyone turned at once to peer down the staircase, then back up at him expectantly. He smiled uncomfortably and said, “The soldier’s remains are in there. It’s best if you have a torch if you go down. I have my pocket torch, but we’d be better off with more light.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Thatcher, and he hurried off through the woods in the direction of the motorcar and returned with two large torches. He passed one to his brother and turned toward the professor and held out his arm. “Professor,” he said, “why don’t you stick close to me on these stairs?”

The professor took Thatcher’s arm and they went down the staircase. Perry looked at the children. “Would the three of you like to stay here?”

“I would!” said Carl.

“I’ll go down,” said Ian.

“Me too,” said Theo.

“Aww,” complained Carl, “you’re going to leave me alone, then?” he asked her.

Theo sighed impatiently. “What’s wrong with staying here alone?”

“It’s creepy,” he said, eying the woods nervously. “Come on, Theo, stay with me, please?”

Theo rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she groused. “Ian, you go on ahead and show them where you found the helmet. I’ll stay here with Carl.”

Ian nodded and pulled his pocket torch out of his trousers. Clicking it on, he followed the schoolmasters and the professor down the steps into the darkness of the tunnel. The group progressed slowly to make sure the professor
didn’t slip as he shuffled along. After a bit, Ian pointed ahead. “The skeleton’s just up there,” he said.

Thatcher’s torch zipped from the ground to where Ian was pointing, and all the adults gasped at what the beam revealed: a gray piece of skull and bones sticking out of the rock. “What
is
that?” asked Perry, hurrying forward around his brother and the professor.

“My word!” exclaimed Thatcher, stopping near the bones. “Look at him!”

Perry was shining his beam directly onto the skeleton. “It’s as if the wall formed around him!” he said excitedly. “How is that even
possible
?”

The professor placed his hands on the bones, gently feeling them. “It’s a fake,” he said, and his mouth turned down in distaste. “I knew it was a fake the moment I saw it.” Ian looked at the ghastly figure projecting out of the wall. He wasn’t sure how the professor could dismiss it so quickly.

“Are you sure, Professor?” asked Thatcher. “If it is a fake, how could someone have done such an impeccable job imbedding these bones into the rock? There are no cut marks or chiseled indentations to speak of.”

“It is remarkable,” whispered Perry, running his hands around the rock where it met with the bones. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“It’s a forgery, gentlemen,” insisted the professor. “There’s no possible way for rock to form
around
a set of human bones like this. It’s got to be a fake.”

“What’s that?” asked Ian, pointing to the ground where he saw something else just out of his torch’s beam.

Thatcher’s torch quickly shot from the wall to the floor,
and there, lying half buried in soot, was a long piece of metal. Thatcher bent down and carefully swept aside the dust, revealing a silver short sword with a bronze handle. “Oh, my,” he murmured.

“Impossible,” said the professor as he too bent low to inspect the artifact. “That is a fourteenth-century BC Phoenician short sword!” And he grabbed the handle and hauled it up from the dirt.

“It must go with the helmet,” said Ian.

Professor Nutley gave Ian a sharp look. “Of course it goes with the helmet!” he snapped. “All we need is a shield and our ensemble is complete!”

“You mean like this one?” asked Perry, pointing his beam to the right, where a dusty shield rested against the wall. “And what’s this?” he asked curiously, raising his beam to just above the shield. “That’s odd,” he said.

“What is it?” Thatcher asked.

“Something’s been scratched into the surface of the rock here. … It says ‘Rest in Peace.’”

“So we’re not the first ones to come here and find this skeleton,” said Thatcher. “Someone else must have come across this poor chap and written that on the wall.”

Perry scratched his head. “Perhaps, but what’s particularly odd is that the date here reads the sixth of June, 1943.”

Thatcher stepped closer to his brother and Ian followed, curious about why someone would scratch such a specific date into the wall. “Why would someone put a date five years into the future on the wall?”

“Bah!” said the professor. “You see?” He wagged his finger at the brothers. “I told you this was poppycock! The
whole thing is one great bundle of nonsense! It’s got to be the work of one of my colleagues, thinking he can pull the wool over my eyes with his chicanery!”

But Ian wasn’t so sure. There had been so many strange and unnatural things taking place recently that he wasn’t about to make any snap judgments.

Just then they heard a scrambling sound at the far end of the tunnel. Thatcher and Perry immediately aimed their torches toward the noise and Ian saw that Perry leveled the shotgun he’d brought along toward the entrance.

It was Carl and Theo hurrying toward them.

“Let go!” Carl was saying to Theo as she pulled at his coat sleeve.

“Come on, you fool!” Theo whispered. “And lower your voice!”

“What’s going on?” asked Thatcher as the pair struggled closer.

“Theo spotted Searle in the woods and she wanted me to follow her down here out of sight,” Carl whined. “I don’t under stand what all the fuss is about. It’s just Searle.”

Ian’s eyes swiveled to Theo, who was pulling Carl closer. He wondered what had gotten into her. But when he caught a glimpse of her terrified expression, he hurried to meet her. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It’s … I can’t explain it, but something terrible is about to happen!”

“Like what?” Thatcher asked, his voice alarmed.

From the staircase they heard Searle’s voice loud and clear. “I’ve found it!” he called. “They must have gone down these steps!”

Everyone held perfectly still and listened. After a moment of silence, the professor said, “Who is that?”

“Searle Frost,” whispered Ian, feeling a bit of dread in his heart. If Searle was here, then the Van Schufts were too, and he remembered Theo’s shaky telling of the fate of Isabella.

Theo had ducked behind him and pressed her face into his back, quivering in fear. “Something’s wrong, Ian!” she whispered. “Can’t you feel how cold it’s just become?”

And sure enough, Ian realized that the temperature in the tunnel had dipped noticeably. He could even see his breath in the small amount of light their torches were giving off. And there was something else in the atmosphere that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something terrifying that made him back up a pace or two and wait expectantly for whatever was about to descend those stairs.

Just a few moments later the tense stillness within the tunnel was broken by a loud click … and then another … and then another.

Out the corner of his eye, Ian could see Thatcher and Perry moving closer to the stairs. The light from outside illuminated the staircase as if the sun were shining directly down on it, and coming into view were two beautiful silver boots clicking loudly down the stone steps. A long cloak of white and silver appeared next, but then, as Ian squinted into the darkness, he thought his eyes must be playing tricks. Blue hands with horrible long bony fingers were tracing their way down the walls on either side of the staircase. Ian gasped as the figure descending the steps came slowly into view.