The Bone Quill (17 page)

F
ive
minutes later, Duncan Fox returned to the studio, carrying an axe, a length of rope, a pair of opera glasses, four canteens of water and three changes of clothes. He set all of them on the chaise longue.

Simon’s eyes widened. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The children and Sandie are going back to 1263,’ Duncan said.

Em looked up. They were going to the
Middle Ages
?

‘You can’t be serious,’ said Simon in shock. ‘To the monastery?’

‘We have to, Simon,’ said Sandie, pulling a cloak out of the pile and wrapping it around her shoulders. ‘Em, Matt, change your clothes, please.’

‘Why would you do such a stupid thing, especially when we’ve only just found you?’ Simon demanded.

Em was already rifling through the clothing as if this was some kind of dressing-up game. She held up a pair of trousers that were so filthy they could stand by themselves, thick with the stench of boy sweat and stinky socks.

‘These are all boys’ clothes,’ she said in disappointment. ‘And they’re disgusting.’

‘I am sorry about that, Emily, but there was very little bathing happening in 1263,’ said Duncan apologetically. ‘And it will be safer for all involved if you travel as a boy.’

‘They aren’t going!’ Simon said.

Ignoring the clothes, Matt wandered over to the windows. There was too much to think about. He slipped a piece of paper from his pocket and began to sketch the view in a bid to settle his nerves.

Em meanwhile settled on an only marginally offensive long-sleeved suede shirt that looked like a shift, and trousers that fastened with a belt of twine, and a shapeless cap. She picked up a brick of coal from the fire and, rubbing it in her hands, smeared the coal dust on her face and in her hair, muting the intensity of her neon streak.

‘That’s the spirit, young lady,’ said Duncan, snatching up his sketchbook. He sat Em on the stool in front of the hearth and began to draw her portrait.

‘I want an explanation,’ Simon thundered.

‘When the twins and I lived in London, I used to work at the Royal Academy,’ Sandie said. ‘One day I happened to be in the office of Sir Charles Wren, the head of the Council of Guardians, and discovered that he was gathering evidence about the Hollow Earth Society. Because of Malcolm’s interest in Hollow Earth and his plans to use the twins to free the beasts inside, I looked at the evidence more closely. There was a key that particularly caught my attention, and I stole it.’

Simon pulled the rusty drawer key from his pocket. ‘This key?’

Sandie nodded. ‘Duncan’s diary mentioned a key just like it. Malcolm wanted to find it. Because of Duncan’s connection with Hollow Earth, I knew that it was likely to be the same key. So I travelled into one of Duncan’s paintings at the Royal Academy, to ask Duncan about it myself.’

‘What happened when you met that first time?’ asked Matt from the window, trying not to sound interested.

‘I was across the street, sketching the front of the house last winter, trying to capture the play of the light and the shadows on the glass roof, when a woman shot out of my canvas in a shaft of brilliant light, knocking over the poor chimney sweep passing behind me,’ Duncan said. ‘I knew immediately she was an Animare. I hurried her quickly inside. We discovered the contents of my desk drawer together.’

‘What was inside?’ Em asked, glancing at the old desk in fascination.

‘The first page of
The Book of Beasts
, sealed in wax paper where it had been hidden centuries ago.’

‘How had it got there?’

‘My builders recently uncovered that desk in a cedar chest filled with other pieces of furniture, hidden deep in the catacombs under the ruins of the Abbey,’ said Duncan. ‘I had no idea of its significance until I met your mother.’

‘I came back here two months ago, through one of Duncan’s paintings at the Abbey,’ Sandie went on. ‘And painted the picture that brought you here. I couldn’t come home until I knew it was safe for all of us. But then Duncan and I uncovered something that meant I couldn’t come home at all.’

‘W
hat
did you uncover?’ demanded Matt. He still hadn’t touched the medieval clothes.

Duncan took up the story.

‘My stonemasons discovered another priceless artefact in the catacombs. An incredibly well-preserved tapestry that has proven to be most useful to our research and your mother’s travels. I have used it to make several painting trips. Only the other day, I found myself in an uncomfortable situation with one of our mutual ancestors.’

Sandie opened a chest in the corner of the room and lifted out what looked like a rolled-up rug. She carefully unfurled the tapestry along the sideboard. It showed several panels of life in a medieval monastery: monks at their high desks illustrating manuscripts, tilling the fields, getting on with their everyday life.

‘It’s beautiful,’ commented Simon.

‘Wow,’ said Em in amazement. ‘I can’t believe how bright it is, after all these years.’

‘That’s because much of this was worked in gold threads,’ said Duncan. ‘As I am sure you know, gold doesn’t tarnish. I’ve been using it to travel to the monastery in 1263, when the tapestry was made. And on one of my last visits with your mother, we discovered that a group of rebel monks is trying to open Hollow Earth.’

‘We think we know how to stop them, but we need the twins’ help,’ said Sandie, pleadingly. ‘We have to go, Simon. Don’t you see?’

Simon shook his head in frustration. ‘I know I’m not your Guardian, Sandie, but I am your friend. You can’t interfere. Whatever these so-called rebel monks are planning to do, they’ve already done it. Hollow Earth has not been unleashed on the world. We’re all here. Monsters and demons are not roaming the earth. It’s the twenty-first century— I mean, 1848. We can’t change the past.’

‘He’s right, Mum,’ Em agreed. ‘In all the science fiction stories I’ve read, when a character changes the past, she always makes things worse.’

Sandie kissed her daughter’s forehead. ‘I appreciate your literary warning, but we have no choice. You see, I think we’ve already interrupted events. I think we have something to do with what’s happening at the monastery in the Middle Ages.’

Duncan crumbled the end of his cigar into the ashes in the fire. ‘On our last visit,’ he said, ‘we learned of a stranger who has appeared on the island and inflamed a handful of the monks, convincing them that their destiny lies in controlling the islands and opening Hollow Earth.’

‘We cannot risk them finding the bone quill,’ added Sandie. Even the soft tone of her voice couldn’t disguise her disquiet.

‘Grandpa told us about the quill,’ said Matt. ‘It’s made from the antler of the black peryton, right?’

‘And it opens Hollow Earth if an Animare uses it to copy illustrations from
The Book of Beasts
,’ Simon said, nodding.

Sandie kneeled in front of Simon. ‘I know this is a lot to ask,’ she said, ‘but I need your help. Duncan has travelled too often into the past. It’s been taking its toll on him, and he’s ill because of it. I can’t do this by myself. If we go together – you, me and the children – our powers should be enough to do what must be done quickly, covertly and safely. If I go alone, I may not survive.’

H
is
mother’s words were all Matt needed to hear. He’d lost her once. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight ever again.

He grabbed a handful of clothing and changed quickly. When he came back into the studio, he looked every bit the part of a medieval peasant, with his long, dark, wavy hair, a dirty, yellowing, long-sleeved undershirt, a leather waistcoat on top and scuffed black boots.

Duncan handed Matt the axe and Em the rope. ‘I trust you will not need these items, but better to be prepared.’ Then he gave each of them rolled-up sheets of paper with pencils slipped inside. ‘These you may definitely need, but be discreet. This is a world without paper, a place of primitive needs and no luxuries.’

Simon had put on a cassock, which he was adjusting a little uncomfortably.

‘You’ll fit right in, Simon,’ said Em, fiddling nervously with her own clothes.

Simon squeezed her hand, helping her keep her fears reined in. So far there had been no random acts of animation. He hoped Em could maintain her composure.

Em did too.

Sandie held Matt’s and Em’s eyes. ‘If anything goes wrong, tear up your animation immediately and return here, then back to the Abbey in the 21st century through the still-life.’

Simon adjusted his hood. The sackcloth scratched his neck. ‘What exactly is the plan when we get to 1263?’

‘Em and I will warn the Abbot of the threat to the islands and the Order,’ said Sandie. ‘Whatever or whoever is creating disquiet among the monks can’t open Hollow Earth without using the bone quill and the unfinished manuscript of
The Book of Beasts
. But we cannot take either of the relics from their time. Doing that would cause untold chaos with the time continuum. We must simply warn the Abbot to move both the quill and the manuscript from the islands, at least until the threat has passed.’

‘And what will Matt and I do while you two are warning the Abbot?’ asked Simon.

‘If I can’t persuade him of the danger, I want you and Matt to steal the quill.’

‘You know where it is?’ asked Matt.

Duncan walked over to a sideboard in the corner of the studio next to the windows. Em recognized it as a piece of furniture in the flat downstairs, in her own time. He set a small book, the size of a diary, on a velvet pad on the top of the sideboard, and with great care opened it at the centre folio. ‘This is one of the few remaining copies of the third Abbot’s history of the monastery, up to 1214,’ he said.

Everyone gathered around the sideboard. The pages were dull and cracked with age, and lacked the colour that distinguished the tapestry and the lone page from
The Book of Beasts.
The initial capital letter of the folio had a white-winged stag standing in the crossbar of the letter A in the phrase ‘A long time ago’.

‘Why stop at 1214?’ asked Matt, leaning over Em’s shoulder to get a closer look. ‘We want to know about 1263.’

‘The third Abbot was burned at the stake that year. Accused of being a demon.’

‘Oh,’ said Matt. ‘Not cool.’

Duncan looked at Matt with a strange expression. ‘Of course it was not cool. In fact it would have been blistering hot.’

Em giggled. Matt started to explain his slang to Duncan, but Simon waved him off.

‘In these pages are the creation story of the island and how in the beginning there were two perytons,’ said Duncan.

‘We know that,’ said Em. ‘Grandpa told us. Two perytons, one black and one white.’

‘Correct. According to this ancient book, all that was left of the black peryton when it fell into the frozen north was a section of its antler. One of the first Animare in those icy lands carved the antler into a quill. When the Animare died at a great age, according to the chronicle, a small band of monks from Era Mina stole the bone quill and returned it to the islands.’

Matt was fascinated by the tale, but even more taken with the lush lettering of the words on the folio. The closer he looked, the more the words seemed to sing to him, the story filling his head like the melody from a favourite song.