The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (5 page)

The young man looked surprised.

“How on earth could mother possibly help me? And how could I return to Elfencot without bringing trouble to my family?”

The old man gently placed his hand upon his nephews shoulder.

“Lad, Hetty and me sprang from the same womb and I know that she possesses depths of wisdom that ordinary folk could not even dream of. Get back to her as fast as you can, do it soon, for that scum over at ‘Hell’s Corner’will have informed the constabulary and both the town and the countryside will soon be raised against you.”

Darryl thought the matter over, whilst finishing off the measure of rum and water and then agreed to go along with his uncle’s suggestion, for he could see no alternative course of action. He took the money belt from his waist and handed it to the old waterman.

“There’s the balance of the money that I owe you for the purchase of the ‘Bonny Barbara’” he said. “At least I won’t die a debtor if they hang me!”

Robert agreed to bury the money belt and its contents deeply in the soil of his garden, in order to cover the young man’s tracks and then he quickly dropped a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese and half a bottle of rum into a hessian bag and handed it to his nephew.

“Take care to avoid human habitation until you reach the shelter of the Pennine hills,” he advised.“Then move as quickly as possible, for the constabulary will soon trace your birthplace. You must reach your mother’s doorstep well ahead of them if you wish to live. Now go and good fortune be with you!”

Darryl quit his uncle’s cottage moving with extreme caution as he crossed the Eastern reaches of the plain lying beyond the outskirts of Manchester. He took care to keep to isolated country lanes and pathways, avoiding the small textile towns and mill villages that were springing up across the breadth of the Lancashire plain.

It was pitch dark before he was able to pause for a single hours rest in the shelter of a small wood near the tower of ‘Harts Head Pike’ a landmark standing high amidst the first range of the Pennine hills.

The boatmaster refreshed himself with a wedge of cheese and a drink of rum from his bottle and then pressed onwards until he crossed the line of the Tame valley, near the village of Greenfield. By dawn, he had reached his first objective, the great expanse of heather clad hills and deep peat bogs forming the backbone of Northern England.

The danger of immediate capture had now receded, but he continued to move with caution, for the uplands were patrolled by armed gamekeepers and Darryl had no wish to be apprehended on suspicion of poaching and summarily handed over to the police.

It was mid afternoon of the following day before he stood high upon the crest of the ‘Devils Tor’and looked down upon his native village of Elfencot.

Darryl descended the hill with care, making use of every well known bush and fold in the ground, until he reached the cover of the dense thicket of trees extending almost to the rear door of his mothers cottage. He passed noiselessly through the wood and crept silently to the kitchen window, to ensure that no strangers were present in the dwelling, but the only persons to be seen in the room where his mother and his twin sister Myra.

The young boatmaster announced his arrival by gently knocking three times upon the door, his mother reacting instantly by opening the door and drawing him inside.

The two women hugged the youth affectionately and Hetty brushed away tears of relief.

“My inner-eye warned me that you were in great trouble,” she said, “and that you were probably a fugitive. Now lad, sit down and explain everything that has befallen you, then we can decide how best to bring you aid. But take care to tell us everything, for even the smallest detail may be of the greatest importance.”

Darryl then related the events that had led to his ruin and threatened to rob him of his liberty and probably his life. Hetty meanwhile, listened patiently to his every word, then uttered a deep sigh that might have been drawn from the very depths of her soul.

“My brother Robert was correct in urging you to return here and seek my assistance, for you will certainly be hanged if you are taken and brought to trial. You must therefore be placed beyond the reach of the constabulary, until I can uncover the facts that will clear your name.”

“We had best decide upon a course of action as soon as possible,” Myra commented. “For I noticed two mounted constables riding up to the mouth of the Devil’s Hill tunnel, less than an hour ago and then returning in the direction of Marple at a fair gallop. They were probably looking for the ‘Bonny Barbara’ and it’s not surprising that they failed to find her, for she’s lying out of sight, alongside the old mill wharf, with George in charge of her. There’s none to give away her position, for he told me that he discharged the temporary hand above the junction locks to avoid paying him an extra days hire.

Some old tramp, bound for Yorkshire helped him to work the boat to Elfencot for the price of a plug of tobacco.”

The girl shook her head.

“Those two constables may have been frustrated in their search, but they’ll certainly make further enquiries in the district and are sure to find out that Darryl’s family reside in this village. They will surely return with plenty of reinforcements to back them up. They’ll search this cottage and the surrounding countryside so completely, that a single mouse would be unable to avoid detection.”

Hetty acknowledged her daughter’s words with a brief nod, then turned and stared into the flames of the kitchen fire. For a full five minutes she considered the situation, then turned to face her two children with tears in her eyes.

“There’s no alternative,” she said. “My son, you must flee from here and seek sanctuary within the ‘Water-Realm’!”

The wisewoman’s statement held no meaning for the boatmaster, but his sister gasped in amazement.

“Hidden powers save us!” She cried aloud. “Mother, you cannot mean it. The Water-Realm is a violent and terrible place. He may not survive long, even if he should succeed in passing through the curtain unscathed.”

“The Water-Realm, mother?” the young man queried. “I’ve never heard of this place!”

“My son,” she replied.” We Littlewoods have always dwelt in the shadow of the ‘Devil’s Tor.’Aye, since the days when our ancestors roamed these very Pennine hills dressed in animal skins and killed their meat with spears. Always the Littlewood women have been the healers of the sick and seers who would read a palm or sell a love potion to anyone who should demand it. Yet some were great adepts who could cast their inner-selves forward into the future and foretell things that were still to occur; some were even able to use the immense power of their minds to converse readily with the wise ones who dwelt in other places.”

The witch looked deeply into her son’s eyes as though desperately willing him to believe her words.

“Aye lad, almost beyond comprehension were the mental powers possessed by many of our Little wood ancestors, powers that could only be marshalled after long years of training, meditation and by dwelling in close proximity to the terrible ‘Devil’s Tor.’The hill above us my son, marks the spot where the world in which we now reside comes into near contact with another reality, a strange place that we Littlewood witch’s call the ‘Water-Realm.’This reality is normally separated from the planet Earth by vast distances in both time and space. But at the end of each recurring cycle of five years, the two realties draw close together in the vicinity of the ‘Devil’s Tor’; for a few short weeks, they are only separated by a barrier of force as thin as gossamer. The greatest of the Littlewood seers knew the secret of tapping into the vast reservoirs of alien power that exists beyond the barrier and this reserve of energy enabled them to undertake the prodigious feats of the mind, that the ignorant and fearful call ‘Witchcraft and the works of the Devil.’My son, both your sister and I are inheritors of this terrible gift!”

Hetty paused for a few moments to allow this startling information to sink into the youth’s brain and then she continued her explanation,

“The barrier of force is at its weakest at the end of each five year cycle and may part without warning. At such times, any person or group of persons, near the vicinity of the breach, can be seized and flung into the ‘Water-Realm’ to live and die as fortune pleases.

Darryl, this is the reason why the ‘Devil’s Tor’has such an evil reputation, for travellers throughout history have suddenly disappeared whilst crossing its barren slopes. Never to be seen again! Legend has it that a cohort of Roman soldiers once marched over the hill, in the direction of York, and disappeared to a man, without leaving so much as a helmet or a discarded cloak to mark their passage. Why, in my grandfather’s day, it was said that a group of canal navies working in the depths of the Devil’s Hill tunnel, also disappeared without trace and they doubtless suffered the fate of being cast into the adjacent reality.

The witch leaned forward and squeezed her son’s hand.

“Darryl, the last cycle of five years has recently come to an end and the curtain between our two realties is now as thin as spun silk. My knowledge of the secret arts is great and my powers have never been stronger. I have the ability to sweep aside the curtain and allow you to escape into the alien reality where the misdirected justice of our world cannot hound you. But only if you possess the courage!”

Hetty paused and drew a deep breath.

“Your sister mentioned that the Water-Realm is a place where danger and violence are commonplace, yet, it is also a home to folk who are not unlike ourselves. Some few are fellow seers whose minds I can reach with the aid of my powers. They have assured me that kindness is also to be found in great abundance within their world, and that persons with courage and intelligence may prosper and find happiness.”

The witch forced a smile.

“Come lad; now say that you are willing to accept the only chance of survival that lies open to you?”

Darryl slowly nodded and a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I doubt if I’ve got much choice mother and I feel sure that you possess the power to transport me beyond the clutches of the constabulary. I always had a strong suspicion that you were more than a common healer when you pulled young George back from the grave, some two years ago.”

“That’s settled then.” The wisewoman replied briskly. “Now take heed, for this is how we shall push matters forward. The reality that lies beyond the curtain is a world dominated by water, and boats are vital possessions for many of the folks who dwell there. It is my intention to pass the ‘Bonny Barbara’ through the curtain whilst you are navigating her through the ‘Devil’s Hill’ tunnel. If I succeed in accomplishing this very considerable feat of ‘Magic’then your chances of surviving in the other reality will be greatly improved.”

The words were hardly out of Hetty’s mouth, when the younger woman joined her twin brother in the centre of the room.

“Mother,” she said. “You once told me that it was possible for an accomplished seer to visit the Water-Realm and return again to our own native reality. Was this true?”

“I didn’t lie,” the witch replied. “But to the best of my knowledge, only one person has accomplished such an incredible adventure.”

She paused.

“Some three hundred years ago, this cottage was the birthplace of the greatest seer that our family ever produced; ‘Rose Littlewood’was her name. By the time that Rose attained the age of thirty, she had already served as a trusted adviser to some of the most powerful people of her day. Wealth and fame were hers for the taking. But her lust to explore the unknown knew no bounds and one day she walked to the summit of the ‘Devil’s Tor’ and transported herself to the Water-Realm. Her younger sister was serving as the wisewoman to the district of Elfencot at the time, and she never expected to see Rose alive again. Yet some ten years later, a crippled woman, prematurely aged by extreme suffering, walked into the village and knocked upon the door of this very cottage. That woman was Rose Littlewood. But she proved to be little more than a living shell and she died only a few weeks later, without giving a clear account of her adventures to the younger sister who was caring for her. However, she defiantly stated that a passage through the curtain could be made in one direction only. She insisted that any traveller wishing to return to this reality, could only find the return portal after undertaking a long and frighteningly dangerous journey to remote portions of the Water-Realm.”