He had always seen computers as a necessary evil, but recognised their crucial contribution to research and information. Problems that would normally take weeks or months of research, now the answers may be found in a matter of minutes or hours. It was purely by accident that Matthew strayed into the realm of Role Play Games.
He had been following a series of articles on a particular Saxon King, in the hope it could lead him to the identity of the man found in the burial mound. Having Googled Saxon + Sword, he came up with many variables, one of which was an entry that related to a question by someone called Lady Tamsyn. On clicking the link, he found himself at a questions page in an RPG, on which the Lady Tamsyn asked, “Who will help me fight the Saxon invaders?”
There followed a series of answers from a half-dozen people, all of them cryptic and obviously in an imaginary game setting. Realising this was a fantasy land largely inhabited by social morons, Matthew was about to leave when he saw another entry from the Lady Tamsyn, “Is there a magic sword we could use against the Saxons?”
Intrigued, Matthew had no alternative but to join the game. Inventing a Saxon Warrior called Brutus, he joined in, purely as a watcher for a few hour’s play. Then, bolder and more confident, he started taking part in earnest, building his character to something through which he could live his fantasies.
Most of the other players were rather childish and faintly imbecilic, all, that is, except a few, one of which was this girl Tamsyn. While the others were somehow creating fantasy lives in which they could embellish their mundane and humdrum lives, he found her exciting and intriguing at first, but recently had become rather bored with their rather droll and predictable games.
However, that had all changed when she had posted a new question, “Who was the Saxon Brandt, and where is the sword he stole?” followed by another, “I have to find the Sword. Who can read the runes?”
Matthew’s curiosity was piqued now, so he began to research this Lady Tamsyn.
There was a series of tourist articles on the Tamsyn Oak in Cornwall, which linked through to a site called Celtic Legends.
When he clicked through to this site, he found the link didn’t work and that this site no longer existed. Swearing, he resorted to going back to the tourist board’s articles. He found scant information on the subject.
There had been brief resistance to the Saxons by a small army of Celtic warriors led by a tribal queen called Tamsyn who wore a magical torque. Judging by the amount of information, or lack of it, this was a legend and not historical fact. Matthew had little time for legends, except when they linked through into details that were recorded in historical documents, or elsewhere, such as on gravestones.
Brief mention was made of a special sword, which was hinted as being the Excalibur of King Arthur. No evidence was given for this hint. Matthew had very briefly looked into Arthurian legends and decided quite quickly that they were the ramblings of eleventh century fiction writers and fools. There was also the queen Tamsyn herself, said to have been carried off by a Celtic God, mortally wounded but promising to return to save her people.
The Saxon warlord was called Brandt, just like the warrior in the tomb in Bedford. This Brandt had been determined to slay the rebel queen and display her head to dissuade further rebellion, but he failed to find her. He did, it was said, locate her young son and retrieve the sword, but of the queen and her magical torque, there was no further mention.
Unable to isolate any further information about either the girl or the sword, Matthew sat, holding the sword, hoping it would bring him some clue as to the historical truth.
It failed to do so.
The only place he could think of to attempt to locate any further information was the game.
“Where are the runes?” he typed in.
After some delay, Tamsyn typed in, “Safe.”
“Where are they?” he probed.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I might have an answer.”
“About what?”
“The runes.”
Then, much to his disappointment, Tamsyn stopped communicating. There had been nothing for over two weeks, until just yesterday when she asked about the torque. Was this a coincidence?
Taking out the sword, he peered at it, searching the markings for any clue that might help. Were these the runes to which she referred? If they were, how could she say they were safe? If these weren’t the runes, then to what did she refer? Lastly, why had she stopped playing the game? He had waited for many days, and she had not logged in at all.
Chapter Six
Gwen was delighted to see the pretty girl when she returned to the tourist centre.
“I wondered where you got to; I thought you might pop round to see me last evening,” she said to the girl, whose sunny disposition went against the summer shower outside.
“I ran out of time. We had a busy time at the guesthouse, and the police were there trying to sort out some American tourist who had gone missing.”
“Oh, did they find him?”
“No. They think he might have jumped into the sea. Anyway, his wife checked out and has gone back to London to catch a flight home.”
“I’ve some news,” Gwen said, hardly able to contain herself. “What you translated on your Torque seems right. Now, we have to work out what your quest is. Just tell me again why you told the story living with your uncle and aunt?”
“I just said what came into my head; why?”
“There is a Tamsyn Morrghan, and she is at Portsmouth University. She lives with her aunt and uncle on Penhallow Farm, Perranarworthal, just as you mentioned.”
“Shit! What if we meet?”
“No, you don’t understand, do you?”
“Huh?”
Gwen pulled out an A4 sheet of paper.
“I took this from the internet. It’s a copy of your sixth form year book. Look here!”
Tamsyn looked.
“That looks like me!” she said.
“It is you, dear.”
“But, I....”
Tamsyn stared at the girl in the photograph. It really looked just like her. It couldn’t be, because she knew she started life as Tamsyn just when Allun placed the torque around his fat neck.
“There’s more!”
“More?”
Gwen produced yet another piece of paper. This was a print out of an old newspaper story.
Coach Crash Tragedy in Italy
The small community of Perranarworthal
was stunned last night over the death of
two of its residents – John (41) and Martha (38)
Morrghan from Perrinpow Farm. The couple,
in their early forties, were on holiday in
the beautiful region of Lake Garda when
their coach left the road and fell down a steep
embankment. Six died, and another eight were
seriously injured, including the driver.
Police stated that they suspected that the driver
may have fallen asleep at the wheel.
The couple have one child, a daughter, Tamsyn
aged just nine, who was staying with friends in
Cornwall. John’s brother Thomas Morrghan and his
wife Helen, Tamsyn’s uncle and aunt, have been
contacted and will look after her at their farm next
door – Penhallow Farm. The Morrghan family have
been in the area for many generations. The two
brothers’ father, William Morrghan, bought
Penhallow farm just before retiring. He gave
each of his sons one farm. Thomas is now
assuming control of Perrinpow farm until
Tamsyn is old enough to decide what she
wants to do with it. The travel company –
Ace Travel from Falmouth is considering
legal action against the coach company.
There was a photograph of a mangled coach with Italian fire-fighters and paramedics clustered around it.