Daniel walked up the aisle towards the altar. He felt peaceful here. The anxiety and emotional chafing of the bus ride was becoming less painful, gradually washing away. Marveling at this amazing building, he felt part of something much, much bigger than himself, and he knew he was the only one who felt it. It was like he understood what the church was feeling-an old, proud indifference to the chattering, squabbling children who were walking inside of it. It was as though all the shoving and pushing and jockeying for attention and importance-all these things that affected him so much-were irrelevant to the enormous, beautiful building. It was created for something else.
Behind the altar there was a small arch, partially hidden in the shadows. For a moment he thought there was a passageway underneath it, and hearing the call to adventure, he intended to follow it, but when he got closer he saw that it spanned just a blank wall of stone.
The archway oozed antiquity and was crammed with interesting figures. It must have been a doorway to something at some point. On one side there was a knight wearing a pointed helmet and a thick beard. In his left hand he held a round shield, and in his right was a large axe with a long straight edge. Underneath him was a horse, a dragon, a lion, and an ox. Opposite him, on the other side of the arch, was another knight, a lot like the first, but this one held a spear. Beneath him was something that looked like a dog, or maybe a lamb, a woman with a staff, and then an eagle and an angel.
He sat down in an uncomfortable wooden chair beside the altar, opened his sketchbook to a clean page, and started drawing the figures on the arch. He had just finished tracing the shape of the axe in his book when he heard a rustling sound behind him, like the flapping of a flag. A shadow fell across him and then quickly lifted. Startled, he twisted around and looked up into a plain gothic window. Something had passed next to it-flickered across it from outside. But it was gone now. He turned back to his sketch.
The light in the church was growing dimmer. The December sun was setting now, even though it wasn’t very late at all. He finished drawing the first knight and quickly moved on to the other.
He heard his class moving across the church-probably to another window-and slouched back closer to the altar so no one would see him.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked him, making him jump.
He twisted around, his eyes wide.
“Freya!” he exclaimed in a whisper. “Flip! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry,” Freya answered automatically. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Daniel said, moving his pencil carefully across the page. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’ll get in trouble for wandering off,” Freya said, coming to stand behind Daniel.
“Yeah? Then so will you. Why are you hanging around me so much?”
She ignored him. “Not bad,” Freya complimented. “You’re good at that.”
“I’m not, really,” Daniel said. “It’s just that I like knights. I draw them all the time.”
“You’ve got the arm wrong just there.”
“It’s fine, just a little long, that’s all,” he said, reaching for his eraser. “Anyway, that’s what it looks like on the arch.”
Freya sniffed and straightened up. “Where does the tunnel lead to?”
“What tunnel?”
“Haven’t you looked down it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That tunnel, there.” She pointed. “Where does it go?”
“There’s no-” Daniel looked up and then jerked his head back in surprise. There was a tunnel underneath the arch. “That wasn’t there before.”
“Good artists need to notice everything,” Freya said crisply. She walked up and poked her head through the arch. “The wall’s curved, I can’t see around it. It’s odd, though, usually churches from this period don’t have catacombs. We should ask Miss. I wonder if it may have been made-wait.”
Daniel brushed past her, having packed up his sketchbook, and walked into the tunnel.
“Where are you going?”
“It sort of spirals downwards,” he said, stopping a short distance in. “There’s some kind of light coming from farther on. A glow.” He took a couple more steps forward.
“I don’t think we should go down there. It don’t think it’s allowed.”
“I don’t care,” Daniel said. “I want to explore.” He took a few more steps and put his hand up to the cold stony wall.
“Daniel, stop,” Freya said, moving towards the dusty archway. “It’s getting dark-we’ll be leaving soon.”
“One more reason to check it out-when are we ever going to come back?” Daniel said. He turned to Freya and saw her worried expression. “Come on, it’ll just take a second.”
Freya ducked under the small archway and they both started down the long sloping tunnel.
The walls were solid rock with little divots in them, evidence they were made with a chisel.
“We’ve been slowly circling around,” he said when they had been walking for a while. “If we go much farther, we’ll end up right underneath the church.”
“It doesn’t smell old or musty,” said Freya. “It’s sort of cool and fresh.”
“The ceiling’s getting higher,” Daniel said. “And the walls are moving out. Feels like we’re shrinking.”
Freya forced a short laugh. “Come on, let’s go back.”
“But we don’t even know-hey, look at that.”
Freya leaned closer to Daniel to see around the bend. On a ledge on the cave wall was a silver lamp that emitted a pale, bluish light. It was thin and cylindrical with a wide round aperture.
Freya gave it a tap. “Where’s its fuel?”
“It’s electric.”
“No, there’s no cord.”
“Battery then. Come on, there’s an archway up ahead.”
“There’s writing on it,” Freya said.
Daniel tilted his head back and saw carved above the archway the words:
Ic wordcenne ?t Ni?ergeard
Giefe a ?lch wha boga ni?eweard
Gifu sprecan freolice
If beo he so?lice freondlice
“Do you think it’s Latin?” Daniel asked. “It’s really old looking.”
“No, my sister’s studying that. This looks nothing like Latin. Those two letters-the p looking thing, and the d with the line through it-I’ve never seen them before.”
They gazed at the words, trying to puzzle them out, and as they did Daniel was aware of a soft sound that he hadn’t heard before-a gentle rhythmic sigh, the sound of breathing. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.
“What?”
“Shh.” Gathering his courage, Daniel stepped through the arch and found himself in a perfectly square room with a very high ceiling made of rough natural rock. In the centre of the room stood a stone dais holding half a dozen of the silver lamps.
And what the lamps threw their light upon made Daniel’s jaw drop. In the centre of the room lay two low, stone slabs and lying on top of each was a knight in full battle gear-not carvings this time, but genuine, authentic, larger-than-life men encased head to foot in armour.
They were dressed exactly as the knights from the archway in the church behind the altar. In their left hands they held round shields made from some sort of animal hide stretched over wood; in their right they gripped weapons-one held a spear, the other an axe. Each knight was dressed in a chain-mail shirt with long sleeves that fell low to cover the upper legs just above the knees; each shirt was cinched at the waist by a stout leather belt from which hung a short but wide sword. Their lower legs were wrapped in rough cloth and skins, joining dark, coarse-woven breeches at the top of their shins. Pointed helmets, polished to a shine, crested their heads and long beards flowed down almost past their belt buckles.
“Wow!” Daniel exclaimed.
Freya gazed around the chamber with wide eyes. “What is this place?” she asked. She walked closer, between two of the figures.