They weren’t, so he went out looking.
“Where’s the cave, then?” Lee asked looking at a very ordinary driveway to a quarry. There were large tyres in the middle of the entrance, to separate the in and out sides of the road. A large yellow sign announced – CORLETTS, Ballaharra Quarry, St Johns and a website.
Tamsyn looked at the map. She looked up the drive and pointed straight ahead.
“Up there, slightly to the right somewhere. Leave the bike; let’s take a look.”
At that moment, a large, fully-laden tipper truck came down from the left, where the quarry must have been.
The driver lowered his window.
“Lost, are you?” he asked.
“We’re looking for Corletts Cave.”
“Nah, it’s all gone now. They say it used to be here many years ago, but it collapsed. It was up by the buildings. There’s nothing to see now. Besides, this is a quarry, so you don’t want to go in there, it’s too dangerous.”
Tamsyn felt the disappointment tangibly.
“Are there some woods near here?” Lee asked.
“Woods? Yes, if you continue down here for a couple of hundred yards, you’ll see a green gate on the left. There’s a small gate there and a public footpath leading up to the woods.”
“Thanks,” Lee said, pulling Tamsyn out of the way of the truck as it drove off.
They rode the few hundred yards to the gate, just as the man described. A reasonable track headed off to the north, with fields to the right and left.
“Well?” Lee asked.
Tamsyn shrugged.
“Might as well.”
They left the bike locked on the grass verge by the gate and went through the small wooden gate to the left of the green metal one.
Climbing as they went, they walked past a couple of fields on either side, and finally, they saw an area of woodland on the right, on a slight hill. There was a communications mast on the right, so they followed a smaller footpath on the right towards the woods.
Lee glanced at Tamsyn.
“Familiar?”
She shook her head.
“No reason why it should be. I’ve never been here, and I don’t think she did either.”
“She?”
“The original Tamsyn. I don’t think she ever came this far north.”
“Oh.”
They entered the woods and were aware of the stillness and quiet that prevailed. Lee dropped back and allowed Tamsyn the space to walk slowly among the trees.
They came to a natural clearing. There was a slight dip in the ground that was covered by grass and ferns, but nothing more substantial. There was a mossy bank to one side that led up to a steeper bank behind it. Tamsyn stood very still. Lee stood behind her, watching.
She closed her eyes and tried to take herself back. Nothing happened.
She moved into the depression and looked at the ground. Lee watched as she bent down and scuffed the ground with her fingers.
“Lee,” she said quietly.
He moved to be beside her, looking at the ground. Under the moss and weeds was a large, flat stone. Together, they removed the earth and moss to reveal four more, forming probably what was once a floor of a building, a very long time ago.
“This is where the smith was,” she said.
“Sure?”
She nodded.
“The forge would have been here, somewhere.”
“So, what do we have to do?”
She looked at the bank covered in moss.
“Unearth it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mitchell sat nursing a pint of Okell’s bitter in the bar at the Highwayman on the Poortown Road, or the A20. This road ran parallel and to the north of the A1, just off of which was the site that Tamsyn and Lee were examining. He was only about a mile to their north west, but had no way of knowing it.
He’d been into Peel, gone round the castle and systematically ridden up and down all roads and checked all hotels, bed and breakfast places and campsites to no avail.
He came to the correct assumption that they were not staying in Peel, which made it awkward and more complicated. Taking out his note book, he looked at the notes he had taken when Matthew had given him all he knew. This included a bit of the legend of the Tamsyn Tree from Falmouth.
This sword was possibly a legendary sword of great importance to the Celts, possibly even belonging to King Arthur at one time. It had been owned by a female Celtic warrior princess called Tamsyn. She was defeated in battle (killed?) by a Saxon warrior called Brandt. The sword was removed from the battle field by a child (Tamsyn’s son?). Brandt chased him down and recovered the sword, possibly killing the boy.
Matthew recovered the sword from a Saxon burial site on his land. He believed the Saxon was Brandt or one of his descendants. He also believed that he was related to them.
Mitchell smiled and took a mouthful of beer before reading on.
An American tourist called Allun Tanner visited Falmouth and decided to either take his own life by stripping off and jumping into the sea, or faked his own death by stripping off and pretending to jump into the sea. He was a highly skilled computer technician.
Shortly afterwards, while trying to verify the inscriptions on the sword, Matthew met a woman called Gwen and her niece called Jane. They were sufficiently knowledgeable of Celtic things to give a translation of the sword that did not mention Arthur or anyone else from the legends.
They never saw the sword.
Within a couple of weeks, Matthew was contacted by an unknown Russian collector who claimed he had similar swords for sale. He was met at Luton Airport and visited Matthew’s home. Matthew showed him the sword, they came to an understanding, the sword was locked away and the Russian left.
Just after the visit, Matthew discovered his sword has been exchanged for a fake. The security was excellent, so Matthew was baffled as to how he managed it.
It seems that the Russian and the American may be one and the same, and the girl, Jane, might be involved with a young guy with a motorbike. If that is the case, then Tanner’s computer skills might answer the question as to how the security system was breached to allow access to the sword. He wasn’t carrying anything other than a pilot’s case when he left, but he was big enough to stuff it down his back, somehow.
The girl and boy with the motorbike were believed to be here as the sword had to be returned to Peel Castle (or vicinity).
Mitch shook his head and re read the notes.
Not a lot to go on.
“So, it’s not enough just to make a bonfire?” Lee asked staring at what must have been a forge many centuries ago. They had stripped away the moss, ferns and grass that had, over time, completely hidden what lay beneath.
The ‘bank’ was a stone shelf, around five foot high and the same deep, against the steeper rock wall behind.
The forge appeared to have been cut from the rock. Within the shelf was a rectangular hole, about eighteen inches high, and three foot wide. It was very dark inside, so appeared to stretch back to the rock wall behind. Lee was reminded of a pizza oven, only this was made of stone. There was a fist sized hole in the lower wall to the right.
“What’s the hole for; smoke?”
“No, pushing air in to increase the oxygen,” she replied.
“How come you know all this stuff?”
The girl smiled slightly and shrugged.
“I thought it would be bigger,” he said.
“No, the heat has to be very hot to melt the steel. The more confined space would enable greater temperatures to be attained.”
“Why do you want to melt it?”
“I don’t, particularly, but it has to be returned to the flame.”
“I know, you’ve told me, like, twenty times, but why?”
Tamsyn stared at him for a moment.
“I really don’t know. It must be something to do with the power.”
“Power? You mean like magic?”