Secret Of The Manor (12 page)

“Poor little bastard,” Carl proclaimed.

James nodded his agreement. “Indeed. I believe it is Nicholas in that unmarked grave. Our church dates back long enough. The only way to be sure, though, is to have the headstone carbon dated.”

Warren was curious. “Why not have the remains dated? It would be more accurate.”

James was quick with his reply. “We don’t disturb the bones of the dead in these parts. Digging up a grave would make us the centre of attention, not only in Walmsley Hackett but Cheltenham as a whole.”

“Maybe I can help in another way. A-Genet has a science building. I doubt they’ll have carbon-dating equipment, but they’ll know the closest lab. And my name will be on the samples, which will leave you anonymous.”

“Thank you. That would be most helpful.”

“In the meantime,” Warren said, “if it is Nicholas in the churchyard, and he was stripped of everything, that explains why he’s in an unmarked grave, and some of the other things I’ve seen. I can empathise with him. It’s no wonder he’s come back as a ghost. Nothing you’ve spoken of, though, explains how or why Alex turns into a swan, or even if there’s a connection between the two.”

“That’s where I’ve had some success and some failure. I’ve scoured libraries and the Internet for information.”

“And....”

“In mediaeval times, people were more likely to believe in witchcraft than nowadays. Though it still exists, if you look hard enough. There are a few ancestral men and women whose existence coincides with accounts of animals that were so overzealous in their territorial lordship they warranted committing to paper. Not only that; early records speak of a curse aimed at those Walmsleys who had a preference for their own gender.” James downed several mouthfuls of his drink before he continued, “And those who were affected by it were... cleansed.”

“By cleansed you mean....”

“By modern definition... murdered. We’re talking a handful of people over a few hundred years. Nevertheless, they all met unfortunate ends. There’s even one account where the lord took the advice of an individual versed in the black arts. He hunted the boy in his deer form and then feasted on him, in the expectation it would rid them of the evil.”

Silence reigned while the horror of the scene sank in.

“If you’re right, Nicholas wasn’t a blood Walmsley. So the distance between the two events remains,” Warren argued.

“Maybe they found out. Maybe the original curse didn’t work, and whoever made it still had a gripe against our family. Maybe the two
are
separate incidents. But what with Nicholas loving his knight and Alex’s orientation... I think not. Maybe another force was able to adjust the original curse? A hell of a lot more questions come out of this than answers.”

The cogs in Warren’s brain stopped for a moment.
Alex is gay. A curse aimed at gay men, holy shit.
What am I in the middle of?
Every part of his body stopped functioning except for his deep breathing. Within seconds of his body hitting the stop button, Warren regained his composure and focused on the men before him.

Albeit with a shaky voice, Alex took up the explanation on a more positive note. “Thankfully swans are protected by the Crown, and we’re more civilised in recent years.”

“That’s right, brother. It keeps happening, though. You are proof the curse hasn’t been broken.”

“How do they know a person’s gay?” Warren interjected.

“I don’t know.” James held up his A5 book. “This contains the most relevant information. And as you can see there isn’t much. I have about a dozen of these back in Malvern, which contain my research notes.”

“How does this tie in with the grave?”

“To be honest, until you, I thought they were separate incidents. I happened upon Nicholas while searching for answers for Alex. After you came to the manor many things slotted into place. Jousts amongst the nobility started to die out around 1800, and that’s when rumours of a ghost joust in these parts began in earnest.”

Warren peeked at Carl, remembering his tales of times past. On the ride, Carl had discounted the idea as hokum.

“Jousts were commonplace when the manor was built. So alternative accounts of them would, in all likelihood, have been passed off as drunken dreams. It was also a time when people had firm ideas about position, place, and sexuality. I’m taking a bit of a leap here, but I think someone may have seen Nicholas and his lover together and cursed them. And because you took the time to visit him, I believe he’s chosen you as his champion, to whatever ends that may lead.”

“But you said the swan saved my life.”

“I did,” Alex said. “Had I not flown in and disrupted the event, you’d have been killed by your opponent. I swooped in with the aim of distracting your adversary. I wasn’t aware my actions would stop the joust from continuing.”

“Why? Not that I’m not grateful.”

“I flew in on a whim. I couldn’t let whatever had taken hold, kill you. Fifteen years is the average lifespan of a swan in the wild. That doesn’t leave me much time to find a solution. When the swan dies, I believe I will, too. The sight of you on the hill made it obvious to me that you were linked to Nicholas, and I was already aware of our tie. When I’m a swan, I move mainly on instinct. I hoped you were the answer to my prayers and had to do something. There is the possibility the same witchcraft affects all of us.”

“Okay, but in one of the last dreams I had, you two were arguing.”

“No. I didn’t know Nicholas was there. I remember shouting at you to believe.”

“How did you know I didn’t? James had no idea I existed and couldn’t have contacted you.”

“I can see your eyes, too, in my head. I’d seen the joust and the conflict in you. Later, after I changed back, James confirmed everything.”

James interrupted. “Back up a bit. Nicholas was talking to you? What was he saying?”

“I don’t know. With both of you in my head at the same time, I couldn’t understand a word. I thought you were arguing with each other.”

“Call him back!” James blurted.

“My head’s not a damn mobile phone, and even if it was, I’m pretty sure I can’t call an ancient ghost.” Warren let out a sigh. “I need ice cream.” He disappeared into the kitchen, calling, “Phish Food or Chocolate Brownie?” He returned with four tubs of Ben and Jerry’s, two of each flavour, and spoons.

Everyone dug in and savoured the sensation as sweet and smooth melted on the tongue, leaving in their wake the urgency for more. Each mouthful brought comfort to a tense situation. A snicker echoed around the room when Alex crunched some chocolate and dribbled at the same time. Warren immediately grabbed a tissue and swept the drop from Alex’s chin before it fell to the floor.

“Thank you.” Blushing, Alex wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Carl once again cut through the contact between Alex and Warren. “God, this is good. Eileen ‘ud have my hide if she knew I was eating this.”

“A bit of pleasure never did anyone any harm,” James interjected with a smile.

“It depends on who’s receiving the pleasure.” Warren’s remark made Carl splutter.

James finished the banter with, “Most definitely.”

The lightening of the atmosphere, albeit brief, was welcome.

It was plausible that Nicholas and Alexander’s predicaments were linked. What wasn’t clear was how Nicholas requiring a champion affected any of the men. It was possible he needed a champion to be able to move on in the afterlife, which would leave Alex still cursed. On the other hand, there was a chance that helping Nicholas would help Alex, too.

Warren straightened his back, rested his ice cream on the floor between his legs, and donned his business face. “Okay, then. We have some facts, some theories, a suspected heavy dose of witchcraft, and a ghost that isn’t able to go into the light. So, where do we go from here?”

“I think we have to get a sample from Nicholas’ grave,” James offered. “If nothing else, it will give us an idea of the era we’re looking at and hopefully confirm who’s in the grave. At least then we’ll know we’re on the right path. Currently, we’re assuming it is Nicholas and pairing convenient facts with the journals. A dated sample will give us a ballpark era, which will hopefully verify our timeline. If the dates don’t tally, we could be looking at something different with a separate set of circumstances. If it’s not Nicholas in the grave, we could be dealing with a third, entirely new, incident.”

Since Warren was a converted believer, and there was no way the situation was going away, he wanted a plan of action. One thing was certain: he was in the middle of some serious hocus-pocus, and he needed to be doing something, even if it led nowhere. Not only that, but if his head was on the line along with Alex’s, he needed a percentage of control. He wasn’t prepared to leave his fate completely in someone else’s hands.

Carl added, “And we have to give you a crash course in jousting.”

Warren agreed. “That seems like a good start. I’ll look into equipment, Carl, if you can find somewhere we can set up a practise area.”

“Righty-o.”

A positive vibe filled the air, and James looked excited. “I’ll help you both where I can. I may be able to lay my hands on some authentic swords.”

“That would be great,” Warren encouraged.

Alex sounded despondent. “And I get to stay in Malvern feeling like a damsel in distress and bloody useless.”

Warren thought for a while. “I’m going to need a partner to learn how to fight. I know my history, and jousting isn’t all about knocking someone off his horse. I’m going to have to learn how to fight with a sword and other equipment. I can’t fight a shadow.”

Alex’s face lit up. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Carl rounded things off with a stretch of his limbs. “Looks like we’ve got a plan of action, and it’s past my bedtime. I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep and keep in touch. Word of warning, though.” Carl waited until he had everyone’s attention. “If there is a curse hanging around from mediaeval times, someone’s making sure it’s being kept going. Stealth’s the key here, lads.”

Warren was brought up short. “How’d you know that?”

“Had a woman at the stables once... years ago. Nattered on about magic all the time during her lessons. We nicknamed her Loopy, but a few things she said make sense now. Last I heard, she moved up north.”

At that sobering note, Alex, James, and Warren gulped and looked at their melting ice cream for comfort. Alex still had his in his hands. He turned to Warren and held it up. “May I finish this on my way home?”

“Of course.”

“I promise to get the spoon back to you.”

Warren laughed. Then, before he knew what was happening, he was engulfed in Alex’s arms. “Thank you for finally believing,” Alex muttered into his hair. “And an even bigger thank you for helping—however it turns out.”

Warren didn’t have any words, so he returned the hug and patted Alex on the back.

Carl, James, and Alex leaving was a quiet affair. And as they headed for their cars, Warren heard Carl say to Alex, “Sorry for lobbing stones at ye.” He didn’t hear the reply.

AFTER A fitful night’s sleep, Warren travelled to work on Thursday the same as any other day. However, his perception had changed. He looked at the world differently;
he
was different. Accepting the presence of ghosts, witchcraft, and a whole bunch of things from myth gave him the sensation of having joined an alternative branch of MI5 on a top-level secret government mission. The knowledge weighed heavy on him, and the responsibility of having lives in his hands was overwhelming. The whole thing was surreal, daunting and... and... he didn’t know what.

Regardless of how uncomfortable the whole situation was for him, he cared for those involved. He’d always felt sorry for the lost soul in the grave, whom he accepted as Nicholas. Understanding his plight and hearing the actual words from his journal, Warren’s spirit went out to him. Warren still had no idea what force had drawn him to the church and the grave, save for curiosity. And, despite multiple theories, he couldn’t fathom why he, a mild-mannered man of mathematics, had been chosen for the task ahead. All the same, he was determined to do his best for Nicholas—whatever that might be.

Thinking of Nicholas led him to Alex. Damn, Warren couldn’t imagine the anxiety the man had been through and the curse’s effect on his family. He agreed with Carl’s assessment that Oliver was an arse, but his heart warmed at the support James showed for his younger brother. Alex hadn’t been completely left out in the cold the way Warren had been by his family.

The dreams had connected him and Alex long before their face-to-face. Though their meeting had started off intense, by the end of the evening he felt they’d bonded. It could have been the situation, or the fact they were both gay. Alex’s beauty wasn’t lost on Warren, either. He looked forward to seeing him again, albeit under uncertain circumstances.

Meanwhile, the agenda for the day ahead meant he had a heap of things that needed sorting and a number of engagements to attend.

THAT EVENING Warren hit the Internet and was surprised at what he found. It appeared that mediaeval reenactments were more popular than he’d thought. It was possible to attend mediaeval school and take mediaeval holidays. One could have mediaeval corporate team-building days, mediaeval weekends, and a host of other variations. He immediately checked availability in the hope he could kick-start his training. Luckily, there were places within a two-hour drive, so he notified Miles that he’d be taking some leave and booked himself on a three-day midweek special.

In preparation, he viewed a plethora of YouTube footage of mediaeval fights and jousts. In the privacy of his lounge, he even practised some of the movements. Anyone spying would have thought he was experimenting with modern dance, or acting out a nightmare.

Warren’s weekend was so full of activity that the tests on the gravestone slipped his mind. In a panic, he arrived at the church as the sun rose on Monday morning. The sky seemed lighter than usual due to the frost and leaves that crunched underfoot. He ducked beneath the veil of holly and, to save dirtying his suit, he rested on a plastic bag next to Nicholas’ grave.