The Time Hunters and the Box of Eternity (8 page)

Chapter 9

The Magpie Inn

‘
Blackbeard?
’
Joe gasped.
‘
How cool is that,
Becky?
’

Becky returned a half-smile, but couldn
’
t bring herself to agree.
She longed for another adventure, but she also knew the dangers involved. They
had been lucky to survive the last one, and what with Otto Kruger, a mysterious
scalpel-wielding stranger, zombie sharks and Blackbeard already thrown into the
mix, she didn
’
t exactly feel confident of an easy ride.

‘
It may sound cool,
kid,
’
Bruce said,
‘
but let me tell you, and be under no illusion
‘
bout this … Blackbeard
’
s bad news. I
’
ve heard stories from
some tough hombres that
’
d make a rattlesnake lose its rattle.
’

Joe didn
’
t appear to hear him.
‘
Hang on a minute …a box … Blackbeard … gold coins …
’
Realisation flashed
in his eyes.
‘
Pandora
’
s Box
is
Blackbeard
’
s Treasure Chest?
’

Becky
’
s mouth fell open.

A cheerless smile inched on Bruce
’
s mouth.
‘
You
’
re as sharp as a tomahawk, kid. That
’
s
‘
bout what I was thinkin
’
…
’
He looked at Uncle Percy, who groaned miserably.
‘
So what
’
s your plan, Boss?
This kinda thing
’
s your party. I
’
m just the gatecrasher.
’

Uncle Percy looked uncomfortable.
‘
Plan? I don
’
t have a plan. I
’
m a scientist, not Allan Quatermain. I get
excited about combustible flidgebangers and vector-wave calculus, not sword
fights and treasure hunting...
’
He stood up and began to pace in a circle, his eyes fixed on the
floor; round and round he went, seemingly engaged in a bitter internal
struggle.
 
Eventually, his face grew
resigned and he sat back down.
 
‘
Very well. If what you
suggest is true, Bruce, what choice do I have?
’
He exhaled heavily.
‘
If Pandora
’
s Box exists, and
Emerson Drake is searching for it, I consider it my duty to at least try and
find it before he does.
’

‘
Me, too!
’
Joe slapped the table
enthusiastically.
‘
So how do we go about it?
’

‘
I
’
m not sure it should
be a case of
we
, Joe.
’

Joe huffed.
‘
Aw, let
’
s not do this again, Uncle Percy. We have to go with you. I mean, if
it wasn
’
t
for us …
’
He waggled his finger in front of Becky
’
s face and went cross-eyed.
‘
… Well, Becky
’
s
eyesturningwhitelikeademonwitchthingy - Drake would have scarpered with the
Fleece and who knows where we
’
d all be then. That
’
s right, isn
’
t it, Becks?
’

Becky didn
’
t appreciate Joe
’
s way of putting it, but he did have a point. Somehow, while Drake
had been escaping with the Golden Fleece, she
’
d had a strange episode, one she could still
only vaguely recall, when the Fleece had broken free from Drake and flown into
her arms. She couldn
’
t explain it, she knew it made no sense, but it had happened.
‘
First of all,
’
she snapped at Joe.
‘
I did not look like a
demon witch.
’
Then she turned to Uncle Percy.
‘
Secondly, for once, the dweebling
’
s right. We do have to
come with you.
’
She looked serious.
‘
Dad
’
s a part of all this, which means we are, too.
’
She smiled sweetly.
‘
Besides, Edgar said I
was the Fleece
’
s guardian, maybe I
’
m the guardian of Pandora
’
s Box, too?
’

‘
So that
’
s that,
’
Joe said decisively
as if that was the end of the matter.
‘
What do we do next?
’

Uncle Percy looked defeated. He pondered for a moment and tented his
fingers.
‘
Mmm,
I think we ask Barbie if she would be so kind as to upload, gather and collate
everything she can on Edward Teach, as well as any historical evidence of the
existence of Pandora
’
s Box. Would you do that for me Barbie?
’

‘
Certainly, sir.
’

‘
And, meanwhile, we pop
into Addlebury for a pub lunch at The Magpie Inn.
’

Becky looked confused.
‘
A pub lunch … why?
’

‘
Because that
’
s where Reg Muckle
will be.
’

‘
Who
’
s Reg Muckle?
’
Becky asked,
convinced she
’
d heard the name before.

‘
Reg is a traveller. At
least, he was. Now he
’
s a publican. Still, in his travelling days, he and his wife, Mabel,
would regularly be found wandering the Caribbean ports of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries. They loved it there and I doubt there
’
s a person alive who
would know as much about that era as old Reg.
’

‘
He stopped travelling
to run a pub?
’
Becky asked, intrigued.

Uncle Percy
’
s face creased with sadness.
‘
Mabel became very ill. He gave up travelling to
look after her. Sadly, she died and he swore he
’
d never travel again. Personally, I don
’
t think he
’
s ever recovered from
her passing.
’
He seemed to avoid looking at Becky as he injected some enthusiasm
into his voice.
‘
Anyway, let
’
s not get too maudlin … it
’
ll be nice for you to visit the Magpie Inn. It
’
s something of a
landmark in these parts and has a fascinating history in itself. More
importantly, Reg serves the most delectable Cheshire cheese and onion flan …
’

*

As far as Becky was concerned, the rest of the morning dragged at a
snail
’
s
pace.
 
After setting Barbie
’
s search parameters,
Uncle Percy retired to Bowen Hall library clutching a weathered copy of Captain
Charles Johnson
’
s book
A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most
notorious Pyrates
. At the same time, Bruce departed for his holiday ranch
in Wyoming where it was decided he would wait for Uncle Percy to contact him;
not a conventional ranch, it was located in the Miocene Epoch and boasted a
thousand-strong herd of Hipparions (a twenty million year old horse).

Becky and Joe spent the rest of the morning cleaning the stables,
the tedium of which only lifted when Will joined them with two jugs of apple
juice. He listened intently to the Pandora
’
s Box theory and seemed as eager as they were
for another adventure, although Becky got the impression it had more to with
meeting Otto Kruger again than anything else. After Will left to tend to the
lawns, Becky and Joe remained to finish their chores.

‘
This is awesome…
’
Joe said
enthusiastically, emptying a bucket of fresh water into a trough until it
slopped over the sides.
‘
Another relic quest!
’

‘
At the moment, we
’
re only going for a
pub lunch,
’
Becky said.
‘
It
’
s hardly Raiders of the Lost Ark.
’

‘
Yeah, but that
’
s how it starts,
’
Joe replied eagerly.
‘
Before we know it … it
’
ll be cutlasses and X
marks the spot and -
’

‘
Have you actually
given any thought to the fact that it
’
s dangerous?
’
Becky snapped.

Joe scowled.
‘
What
’
s up with you?
’

Becky shot him a prickly look.
‘
This isn
’
t one of your Xbox games. If it wasn
’
t for the Minotaurs, Uncle
Percy and Will would be dead, and we would be used as bait to get dad to talk.
And once dad does that, he
’
s dead for sure. It might sound fun, but people can get hurt or
worse…
’

Joe didn
’
t reply. For a moment, it looked like he was giving this serious
consideration, until he blew a raspberry.
‘
Nothing
’
s going to happen to anyone. And I can
’
t wait to meet
Blackbeard… maybe I should give myself a cool pirate name.
’

‘
What about
Bumfluffbeard?
’
Becky said stiffly.

‘
Ha ha,
’
Joe replied
sarcastically.
‘
Come to think of it, Becks, it looks like you
’
re growing a bit of a
beard yourself.
’

A second later, a lump of Pegasus dung was flying at his head.

*

At midday, Becky lined up beside Joe at the front of Bowen Hall. A
chill settled in her bones as she watched Uncle Percy, his overcoat collar
curled high, swing the Rolls Royce Silver Ghost to a halt. Staring at the
roofless car, she pulled her pom pom hat tight around her ears and considered
asking Uncle Percy to ultra-boost them to Addlebury.

Fortunately, it wasn
’
t really necessary, as within ten minutes they were trundling down
Addlebury High Street, passing Bunkle and Sons, a family-owned butchers and a
large village hall with a rain-damp poster on its door that read
‘
Kendo classes every
Tuesday
’
;
a pair of ancient stone crosses
covered in strange markings stood like ice sculptures beside a freshly mown
green. Looking to the far end of the street, Becky saw a rickety Tudor style
public house with an angular thatched roof, streaked with lichen and moss. Constructed
over three floors and painted black and white, it leaned notably to the left,
giving Becky the impression that a strong gust of wind could blow it over.

Uncle Percy brought the Silver Ghost to a stop in the pub
’
s car park and leapt
out, trailed by Becky and Joe.
‘
Actually,
’
he said cheerily,
‘
I
’
m delighted we
’
ve come today. You see, The Magpie Inn is actually one of the few
genuine Tudor
–’
Before he could finish, however, a snapping sound from the pub
’
s rear stopped him in
his tracks.