Relics (12 page)

Kim watched it for a moment, then opened the cage door and lifted the animal out. It was limp in her arms, its head lolling back as if its neck had been broken. She gently drew back its eyelids, noticing how a membranous film was beginning to form over the usually glistening eyes, turning them opaque.

Moving slowly, still holding the rabbit, she walked along the row of cages which housed some of the museum’s live subjects. During the summer months the animals were kept outside in a small annexe where they served as an attraction for the smaller children who visited the museum. There were a few more rabbits, some mice and two white rats. Kim noticed that the food trays in every cage were still full, the food untouched. There was an almost unnerving silence too. No squeaking or any other sound came from the animals.

The other rabbits were also lying down. As Kim poked an index finger through the bars of the cage, they glanced helplessly at it, and when one tried to rise it found the effort too great and slumped over once more.

Two of the mice were already dead. They lay in the straw at the bottom of the cage, their limbs stiffening.

Stroking the rabbit she held, as if trying to coax some warmth and movement back into it, Kim gazed into the last cage. The female rat was carrying young. Its belly was bloated and swollen but the rest of its body was disproportionately thin, so much so that the bones which were now visible under its fur looked as if they would tear through. The male wandered aimlessly back and forth, ignoring the food that had been placed there for it.

Kim watched the rodents for a moment longer and then returned the rabbit to its cage, laying it gently on its side, wondering how long it would take to die.

She returned to her seat and sighed wearily, feeling strangely isolated within the museum. With Roger Kelly in hospital, she wondered if she should advertise for a replacement. The building had few enough visitors during the week but she couldn’t cope alone forever, and there was also the administrative side to deal with. Normally this was the province of Alec Blane, a retired headmaster who was nominally in charge of the museum. However, he was out of the country enjoying a holiday, so Kim was left alone. She considered her position for a moment, then returned to the work at hand.

Spread out before her on the desk were two of the stone tablets, laid carefully on thick gauze to prevent them sustaining damage. Close by Kim had placed a bottle of diluted hydrochloric acid with which to remove any particularly stubborn pieces of debris from the small slabs of rock. She tapped her notebook with the end of her pen and studied the lettering, trying to make some sense of what she had already written down:

WANDERER. THINKER. I AM SO. WITHOUT NEED OR WILL TO BE OF ANY TUATH. ONE OF THE AES DANA, MAN OF KNOWLEDGE LET ME PASS BY THESE YEARS QUICKLY. FOR TIME IS WHAT WE ALL SEEK. AND FREEDOM BUT THAT MAY NOT COME WITHOUT THE KNOWLEDGE. I AM FEARED. SON BORN OF SON BY AEDD MAWR. NONE MAY TOUCH ME. NOT PLEBES. NOT EQUITES. I AM FEARED FOR DAY THAT MUST COME

Kim shook her head, weary from the effort of trying to transcribe what she saw on the tablets into something meaningful.

Whoever had spent so much time creating these tablets, meticulously carving words so small that up to a hundred covered each slab of stone, obviously had been a learned man. One of the
áes
dana
as he himself said – the wise men of the tribe. The Celts were insular people, making contact with other tribes usually only for two purposes: trade or war. And yet this man belonged to no tribe.

‘I am feared,’ Kim read aloud. The Druids were revered and respected by the Celts but not feared as far as she knew. They functioned as law-givers, judges and mediators. Why had this man been feared?

FEARED FOR DAY THAT MUST COME.

Kim sucked in a weary breath, noticing how cold it was in the room. She leant over and touched one of the radiators, recoiling sharply when she found it to be red hot.

And yet the cold persisted.

Puzzled, she got to her feet and walked across to the thermometer.

The mercury was stuck at fifty-one degrees.

Kim shuddered and tapped the instrument.

As she watched, the silver thread which marked the temperature slid even lower on the scale and settled at forty-eight.

She frowned in disbelief, then shrugged and returned to her seat. She glanced over the rest of her notes, blowing on her hands in an effort to restore some warmth.

I CARRY WITH ME THAT WHICH NONE SPEAK OF YET ALL FEAR. WHEN COMES THE TIME THEY SEEK ME THOUGH I KNOW ONLY MY UNDERSTANDING IS WANTED. THEY KNOW NOTHING OF MY WAY BUT FEAR MY PRESENCE NOT KNOWING I AM THEIR ONLY HOPE. YET I ENJOY THE POWER FOR AS LONG AS I AM ITS MASTER. SHOULD HE EVER OVERCOME THESE LAWS THEN MY OWN DEATH WOULD BE THE FIRST. I AM THEIR HOPE AND THEIR FEAR AND THEY KNOW OF HIS DAY. FOR MANY YEARS IT HAS BEEN. FOR MANY YEARS IT WILL BE SO. AFTER ME IF NONE COME THEN MANY WILL FEAR AND MANY WILL DIE BY HIS HAND.

A warrior? A king? Who was
He
? Kim wondered. She was assuming that the man who had engraved the stones was a Druid but whom did he speak of in the strange text? She wondered if the other slabs of rock would give the answers.

Looking up at the clock, she saw that it was almost five-thirty. Time to close the museum. As she got to her feet and walked out into the main hallway it occurred to her that it might be wise to close the museum for a week or two, or at least until she found a replacement for Kelly. She went to the main doors and pulled them shut, then retrieved a large key from the pocket of her jeans and began to lock up. She would leave by a side exit, she decided.

It was as she was turning the key that she heard the noise.

At first she wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her, but then the noise came again.

From above her there were sounds of movement.

Kim realized that someone was still inside the building.

She crossed to the bottom of the staircase which led up to the first floor and cupped one hand around her mouth.

‘I’ve got to lock the doors now,’ she called. ‘It’s five-thirty.’

No answer.

Obviously someone wandering around the galleries had lost track of time and did not realize that the place was closing, Kim told herself. She walked back over to the main entrance and unlocked it again, then returned to the staircase and made her way up about five or six steps.

‘Excuse me,’ she said loudly, trying to attract the attention of whoever was up there. ‘I’m locking up now.’

Silence.

She thought about calling out again, but instead began climbing the stairs towards the first floor, her heels clicking noisily in the stillness. As she reached the first landing she spoke again but still there was no answer.

Kim frowned. Surely whoever was up there must have heard her by now. She continued up the stairs, aware that the sounds of movement had stopped. Kim stood at the top of the steps and looked around her. Galleries lay in all directions from where she stood. Immediately ahead of her was the one which housed objects of local interest and some specimens of local wildlife and plants. She decided to look in there first. The floor was polished wood. The sound of her footsteps echoed loudly around the building, which seemed almost unnaturally quiet.

Kim paused as she reached the entrance to the gallery, peering in to see if she could see anyone.

A beautifully mounted badger gazed fixedly at her from one of the exhibit cases, and for a moment Kim caught sight of her reflection in its lifeless glass eyes. She moved into the gallery, treading a slow and measured path between the other specimen cases, her ears and eyes alert for the slightest sound or movement.

She heard breathing and spun round, her heart thudding against her ribs.

There was nothing to be seen.

Dozens of sightless eyes bored into her as she stood looking around, wondering where the harsh breathing sound had come from.

She heard it again, and this time a knot of fear began to settle uncomfortably in her stomach.

‘Who’s there?’ she called as she heard the soft hiss once more.

It took her only a second more to realize that the noise was not really breathing, it was the wind rushing through a ventilation duct in the wall.

Kim let out a long, relieved breath, angry with herself for being so jumpy. Satisfied that she was alone in the gallery, she moved on. Perhaps her ears really had been playing tricks.

A new sound came from somewhere up ahead, in the next gallery. Then again, louder.

Kim froze, not sure whether she should continue. She stood listening for a moment, aware that someone was indeed moving about ahead of her. She considered calling out but swiftly decided against it.

Moving much more slowly, she walked on, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists, feeling the moisture on the palms of her hands.

She reached the entrance to the gallery and stopped, pausing a moment before taking a step inside.

In the centre of the room was a large sculpture of a mother and baby, the features missing, the limbs long and curving in an abstract way. Although she had seen it countless times, Kim suddenly found it curiously menacing.

She moved towards it, towards the middle of the gallery.

The sculpture was a large, solid object about seven feet tall and three or four feet wide.

Kim was only inches away when she realized that the sounds were coming from the other side of the object.

For long seconds it was as if time had frozen. She tried to stop herself shaking, knowing that any second she was going to confront whoever was hiding behind the sculpture.

They stepped in front of her.

Two children. Little boys, no more than ten years old.

They looked up at her in embarrassment, wondering why she hadn’t shouted at them, wondering why she looked more frightened than they were.

‘We weren’t trying to steal anything,’ the older of the two said. ‘We would have gone out of a window or something if you’d locked up.’

The other boy nodded vigorously and Kim could almost feel the relief pouring through her as she looked at them, heads bowed, as if they were about to receive punishment from a teacher. It was all Kim could do to stop herself laughing.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure you get out. And you can use the doors, not the windows. All right?’

The boys nodded again and ran on ahead of her to the stairs. Kim walked after them, her heart gradually slowing down. She felt both stupid and relieved. It
was
time she went home, she decided; her imagination was beginning to run away with her. She wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead and actually managed a thin smile as she saw the two boys standing by the exit doors waiting to be allowed out.

‘They’re open,’ she told them.

They hesitated for a moment.

‘Go on. Let me lock up,’ she called. I want to get home.’

They both dashed through the exit and disappeared across the car park. Kim chuckled as she watched them, then she turned the key in the lock, pocketed it and headed back to the staff room to collect her coat and notebook. She’d had enough for one day. All she wanted was to get home, relax in a warm bath and talk to her daughter. Forget everything for the time being. Even the mysterious stone tablets.

As she stepped inside the staff room the figure loomed in front of her.

This time she screamed.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Kim gasped. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

Charles Cooper seemed unconcerned at the fright he’d given her. He merely stood looking around the staff room as if searching for something.

‘Where are the tablets?’ he asked.

Kim, who was gradually recovering her breath after the shock, held one hand to her chest and felt her heart thumping hard.

‘They’re in there,’ she said, motioning towards the adjoining room.

Without waiting for her, Cooper turned and walked through.

‘You frightened the life out of me, Charles,’ Kim told him.

‘What have you found out about them?’ he asked, ignoring what she had said. He picked up her notes and scanned what she’d written. ‘Are these accurate?’

‘As accurate as possible,’ she told him, resenting the harshness of his tone and the implied lack of confidence in her.

Cooper flipped through the pages, his face impassive. ‘I was just about to go home,’ Kim said, pulling on her jacket.

‘But what about the deciphering?’ Cooper wanted to know.

‘I’ll continue in the morning, Charles,’ she told him. ‘I’m not staying here any longer. My daughter will wonder what’s happened to me.’

He exhaled wearily and handed her the notebook.

‘How are things going at the dig?’ she asked.

Cooper shrugged, as if he didn’t know.

‘There’s still lots of work to be done,’ he said vaguely. ‘Particularly in the skull chamber.’

‘There was writing on the walls inside there,’ Kim remembered. ‘Have you managed to make any sense out of that yet?’

‘No,’ he said sharply, turning away from her, his eyes straying back to the stone tablets laid out on the nearby worktop. Then, as if anxious to shift the emphasis of the conversation, he nodded towards her notebook. ‘That man claims to be the Great Grandson of Aedd Mawr, the one who actually set up the Druid order.’

‘Is that possible?’

‘Why should we doubt it?’

‘I can’t work out who he keeps referring to, such as here,’ Kim replied, pointing to her words in the notebook: ‘ “They know of his day”, and “Many will die by his hand”. I don’t know who
He
is.’

Cooper did not answer.

‘Could it be a religious text? Could the writer be talking about one of the Celtic deities?’

‘Which one? There were over 370,’ Cooper said.

Kim closed the notebook.

‘I’ll keep at it tomorrow,’ she told him.

‘How long will it take to decipher all twelve tablets?’ Cooper demanded.

‘That’s impossible to say, Charles. You know . . . ’