He rubbed his thinning hair with an arthritic hand, yawning and looking very weary.
“May God forgive me, but I see no respite and help from the priests of Rome. The heathens from across the sea respect no God or law but that of the sword. We need that sword of the king; we need something to bring our folk back together and give them hope. Your betrayal was a dark day in our history; the name of Brandt will be remembered in infamy. If only I could have been there to help. I’d give anything to undo the evil that was done, as you would have made a wonderful queen.”
Tamsyn was almost in tears; she felt she knew him so well. She stood and so was right in front of the man.
He stared at her, yet didn’t see her.
“Gareth Goodwin, my old friend!” she said, surprised at the fact she knew his name.
Old Gareth seemed to start, but then looked around, as if he was afraid of being observed.
On turning back, Tamsyn knew he saw her, as his eyes widened, and shock seemed to grip his expression.
He dipped his head, making as if he was going to fall to his knees. Tamsyn reached out a hand and stopped him. Strangely, she wasn't surprised that she could actually touch him.
“My Lady!” His voice trembled, yet he never questioned her presence.
“Dear Gareth, your love and loyalty was never in doubt. I have passed to a better place now, but need your help. Know the invaders who plague the land will in turn be defeated. New invaders shall come, but the nations of these isles shall unite and become mighty. It shall join the Welsh, the Scots and Irish and form a mighty empire upon which the sun shall never set, until a new world order is established where peace will be the great ambition, yet as elusive as it was in our time.”
“You ask of my help, my lady?” his voice trembled.
“Aye. I still wear the great Torque, but need to know its origin and power. Where was it forged?”
He reached out a trembling hand and touched the torque.
“My lady, how is it you are younger than I recall?”
Tamsyn smiled, “Where I am now, I have been granted my youth, so I may attain my sacred quest.”
“Your quest?”
“I have to set things right.”
Gareth nodded, “The sword has to be returned to across the water.”
“What water?”
“Where it hails from.”
“Where might that be?”
“You will know, My Lady.”
“Humour me. Pretend I don’t know.”
“I know not, but am certain you will.”
“Will or do?”
“Will.”
“Look, many have died, but those who have died in vain need the satisfaction that things are put right. I need to know, what means the writing of the torque?”
He shook his head. “No man alive knows the letters. It is said that only the forger knew, yet he has been in the sod for many a year now.”
Tamsyn felt the tears of frustration sting her eyes.
“Oh, Gareth, surely someone knows the real meaning of the letters?”
“My lady, the torque is older than any man, only the Mage could tell you, and he's been gone for over a hundred years.”
“The Mage! Mean you Arthur's mage?” Tamsyn asked.
“Aye, some say he was.”
A thought came to her.
“Know you where the torque was forged?” she asked, wondering why she was suddenly talking like the Jedi master Yoda.
“Aye, my lady, it is said that 'twas forged by Gladwyn the master smith. He lived and worked all his life near St. Patrick’s Isle.”
“Where the heck is that?” The girl asked, unwittingly letting some of her North American heritage escape.
Gareth looked surprised, “Over the waters.”
“What water?”
“Before you get to Scotia.”
Tamsyn hadn't a clue where these places were, so she tried hard to commit them to memory.
“My lady! Where are you? You've vanished!” a distraught Gareth shouted, looking frantically around.
“I'm here, Gareth,” she said.
“I hear you but can see you not!”
“Then our time is up, and we must part again, my friend. What words of wisdom can you give to me?” she asked.
He shook his head, “None, save trust not the name of Brandt.”
With those words he vanished, as did the cold winter of that bygone age, leaving Tamsyn shivering in the summer sun, with much to think about.
Brandt.
She frowned, as the name meant nothing to her. Who was he? She assumed it was a male, but was it a first name, a last name or a title?
She didn't think the name sounded Celtic, which meant that it was either Norse, Anglo-Saxon or Norman. As the Normans didn't invade England until 1066, it was more likely to be from the Germanic or Scandinavian origins.
She was interrupted by a party of children who burst on the tranquillity of the woods with a cacophony of noise and explosion of boisterous energy and colour. Tamsyn stood up, brushing the grass and moss from her clothes and making her way back to the reality of the age.
Meanwhile, at the police station, a recent message from the bank was causing a problem for John Lindsay. It seems that the missing American withdrew four hundred pounds from the ATM cash point just before the call came in. There was a Fair amount of money in the wallet, but it begged the question, what happened to the rest? He wouldn’t have had much time to spend it. The enquiries around town drew a blank. Allun had not bought anything from any of the usual shops.
The caller was another problem, for despite extensive enquiries, Maria Maynard couldn't be found. The taped message was played over and over again to as many local officers as could listen. The female voice sounded genuinely concerned, speaking English with a trace of West Country accent, mixed with some modern Americanisms that many young people tended to use, much to the disgust of the older generations. Several people had been drawn to the scene by the police activity, but no one came forward as having seen the missing man.
“Go speak to the CID,” Sergeant Graham advised the young officer.
“Do you think he's done a bunk?”
“I don't assume anything, lad, and neither should you. Just the facts tell you what they can.”
“But Sarge, if he's done a bunk, why do we need to get involved?”
“Because he may have been done in by person or persons unknown, or our over-the-top nasty wife may not be as innocent as she seems and have actually laid the poor sod out with a five iron and be running back to the states to collect the insurance.”
“But she has an alibi, Sarge, the lady at the guesthouse said she never left her room.”
The Sergeant ran his hand through his thinning hair, wearily deciding he was getting too old for this job, plus the recruits were even more stupid than when he joined.
“I am just making the point that you never assume anything. Now, go speak to the CID, there's a good boy.”
Tamsyn wanted to drop in on Gwen, but time was against her. By the time she got back to the guesthouse, it was almost six in the evening. Mary was pleased to see her, putting her to work straight away getting everything ready for dinner. Being a small establishment, there were just the few guests in for dinner. With so many restaurants in the town, very often there were evenings with only one or two staying in for dinner. However, Mary's cooking was such that the regular guests rarely ate out, finding the other restaurants far more expensive, but no better.
Tamsyn was surprised to find Miriam gone so quickly. For some reason, she had expected the woman to hang around, just in case Allun needed her. Her rapid departure made it easier for Tamsyn to come to terms with the break from her previous life. With a small shrug and a smile, she turned her back on her past and looked forward to her future.
“Oh, Tamsyn?” said Mary.
“Yes?”
I was cleaning out the American's room and found this,” she said, holding up Allun's laptop.