“I can’t tell you what happened, because I’m still not sure myself. I just know that I dabbled in things that I neither understand nor could deal with. I’m sorry to let you down, but I don’t think even my old regiment could have done any better.”
He’d just walked out leaving Matthew no wiser.
Life went on, just without the sword. He felt cheated, despite knowing that he probably had no legal right to the sword. However, as he was now convinced that the dead Saxon was his ancestor, he felt he had a claim to it regardless of the English law.
He applied to have this recognised by the local museum, but they declined to comment or get involved.
He was just getting over that when Grant called.
“Devon and Cornwall police called me, as a courtesy. A fishing boat recovered a body floating off the Cornish coast. They confirm that it’s the American, Allun Tanner. He’s been dead for a long time. It couldn’t have been him that took your sword.”
Matthew stared at the wall at the end of his study, behind which his sword should have been secure. He still had the replica, but it wasn’t the same.
“That’s impossible, I tell you; it was Tanner who took my sword!”
“No, Matthew, it wasn’t. He was already dead when the Russian came and took the sword. It just looked like him, that’s all.”
“What about the girl; can’t we force her to tell us where it has gone?”
“What girl?”
“The girl on the motorbike.”
“Matthew, drop it. The sword is gone, and you’ve nothing to follow up.”
“But…”
“No, Matthew. Unless you have anything concrete and you’re prepared to tell the police, drop it!”
Matthew hung up in anger.
He got up and walked over to the sword safe and opened it. The replica sat there, looking exactly like his old sword. Only he knew it wasn’t even steel, but polycarbon. It looked the part and that was it.
Angrily he closed the safe as the telephone rang again.
“Yes?” he said curtly. It was the butler.
“Sir, there’s a package just arrived for you. It’s from Russia, by all accounts.”
“Is the courier still there?”
“No sir. He’s gone.”
“Was it a motorcycle?”
“No, a standard delivery van, sir.”
“I’ll be right down.”
It was quite a heavy parcel; the sort of weight and size that might contain a sword. Covered in brown paper, tied up with string and several metres of sticky tape, the address was hand written in a very precise and neat manner. Matthew felt the writing was a distinctly feminine hand. However, it was an internal postal mark with British courier label. No customs declaration or even a registered certificate.
He went up to his study and opened it on his desk.
It was a sword.
This was nothing like the old Celtic sword that was taken, but a sturdy and definitely Saxon sword. For a start, it was made of a mixture of iron and steel. The Celtic sword was iron, not steel, so had been a lot softer.
There was a letter in with the sword.
Matthew.
Please accept this Saxon Sword in recompense for the Celtic sword that was returned to where it belonged.
This sword is a later sword with steel on the outside and twisted iron core. I am told it is ninth century and is in excellent condition for its age.
It was unfortunate that the steps taken were taken, but essential for so many reasons. Had you declared the sword truthfully from the burial mound, then things would have been very different. However, no one was hurt this time around. The sword is back where it should have been and you are compensated.
We will not meet again.
Happy Christmas
Dimitri (Igor)
What did he mean by- ‘this time around’? Was that a reference to Mitchell, or perhaps to how the sword came to be in the old Saxon’s possession.
He would probably never know.
It was a very fine sword, and he knew about Saxon Swords. He read the note again, wondering who in the hell this supposed Russian really was. If he wasn’t the dead American, who the hell was he?”
Laura looked out of the window for the umpteenth time and felt disappointment again. Most colleges and universities had broken up for the holidays, so she was hoping that Lee would be coming home. They had spoken last Sunday, as Lee was actually quite good at communicating by phone every Sunday evening. He had said that they hadn’t decided what they were doing for Christmas, but he expected they would be there at some point.
They.
She smiled.
Lee was completely changed. Rather, he was different and had almost reverted to how he had been before his father had left.
He was fun-loving, outgoing and sociable. Gone was the computer geek of a troglodyte who never left his room or communicated in anything other than monosyllabic grunts.
They.
It was all due to the girl.
Lee couldn’t leave home quick enough to start at university last autumn. She discovered that he was sharing a house with three others, two girls and one other boy. One of the girls was Tamsyn.
It was only a couple of weeks ago she discovered that it was a three bedroom house, and Lee and Tamsyn were sharing the biggest bedroom. She had called Lee’s phone, and it was answered by Tamsyn. The girl was cheerful and very friendly, but slipped when talking about the house. Apparently, their landlord was not putting it out for rent after the summer as he wanted to sell it. She mentioned that it was quite hard to find three bedroom houses for rent in this part of the town.
“Three bedroom? Surely you mean four, or is someone not sharing with you next year?”
“Ah, well, you see, Lee and I share a room.”
“What?”
“We’re sort of an item, and have been since the summer. I hope you don’t mind?”
Laura smiled on the other end of the phone.
“No, dear, I don’t mind at all. To be honest, I couldn’t be more pleased. I’m just not sure what you see in him.”
“That’s rot, Mrs Hobbs. He’s a great guy and you know it!”
“Tamsyn, please call me Laura.”
After that conversation, Laura found, much to her surprise, that she was very relaxed and less stressed about her situation. Her job was a good one, and now Lee was at university, she found that, for the first time in a very long time, she was able to focus on her needs. It was a novel experience and one for which she was not fully prepared. Indeed, she joined a mature singles group and found she developed a social life in which she could actually relax and have some fun.
She heard the motorcycle before she saw it, and so was opening the front door as Lee negotiated the bike into the front drive. The rear of the bike was piled high with bags on top of the reap box.
She watched as Tamsyn got off the pillion seat, and then, Lee placed the bike on its stand.
Tamsyn took off her helmet and grinned at her.
“Hi, Laura,” she said.
Laura embraced the girl in genuine warmth, which seemed to be reciprocated.
“Hi Mum, how are you?” Lee asked, giving his mum a hug.
“I’m fine. How was the trip?”
“Bloody freezing. I could kill for a hot shower and a coffee,” said Tamsyn.
“How long are you here for?” she asked.
Lee glanced at Tamsyn and then answered, “As long as we’re welcome. Tamsyn has nothing for her in Cornwall now.”
Lee and Tamsyn unpacked the over-laden bike and carried everything inside. Laura followed feeling this Christmas was going to be one of the better ones.
Tamsyn awoke with a start and was unsure why. Lee was fast asleep beside her. Laura had put them both in the spare room without batting an eye. His bed was too small, and as they were definitely an item, she didn’t see why they’d have to creep around in the middle of the night, unnecessarily.
She glanced at the digital clock. The green digits glared at her – 03:12.
She glanced at Lee who was facing the other way and snoring gently. She slipped out of bed and put on her dressing gown. Actually, she didn’t have one, so Laura had lent her an old one of hers.