The Hounds of Avalon (Gollancz S.F.) (30 page)

Relenting, Hal explained about the stone recovered from Cadbury Hill and the mysterious message it contained. ‘Why this painting, or its reverse image at Shugborough? Why was it thought important enough to preserve at Cadbury? How could it be linked to a picture painted hundreds of years later?’

‘But what makes you think it has any relevance at all?’ Samantha settled into a sagging armchair near the fire and poured herself a glass of the moonshine.

‘Two people – two very important people in the crisis we’re seeing now – were drawn to Cadbury, to find this. Those two people were supposed to be part of the last defence of humanity, against whatever it is that’s attacking us now. And I think they were led to find this because the picture is a code that reveals something they could use in the fight, perhaps some kind of weapon.’

‘That’s amazing. Mister Reid must think a lot of you to give you a project as important as this.’

‘He trusts me. I get the feeling that … well, that doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m starting to piece it together.’

‘How far have you got?’ Samantha asked, excitement and a moonshine buzz bringing colour to her cheeks. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Hal was thrilled by the prospect of the two of them working closely. ‘Can you spare the time? You’re normally up to your neck in work.’

‘I’ve been twiddling my thumbs ever since the war started. What I do isn’t a priority any more.’

‘Well, if you’re sure …’ Hal couldn’t contain a smile any longer. ‘OK. We’re a team. Let me tell you what I’ve found out so far.’ He stood up to point to a print of
The Shepherds of Arcadia
, with the shepherds and the stately woman gathered around the tomb with its intriguing inscription. ‘There’s been a lot of debate about the meaning of this ever since Poussin first painted it.’

Samantha stood and leaned towards the print, to examine it more closely. ‘What’s Arcadia?’

‘It comes from a long tradition of pastoral poetry going back to the Greeks. Basically, the poems brought to life an imaginary place – a kingdom of Utopia. Scholars spent a long time searching for the origin of the phrase “
Et in Arcadia Ego
”, but there’s no classical source.’

‘So Poussin made it up?’

Hal nodded. ‘Which makes me think that phrase is the key. One translation suggests it means “And in Arcadia I Exist”, with the scholars believing that “I” is death. Hence, even in Utopia, there’s death.’

‘That’s a little morbid.’ Samantha returned to her seat, warming her hands by the fire.

‘But you’ll notice that the shepherds and the woman don’t seem too concerned about this. In fact, if you look closely, they seem to be pondering the meaning of the inscription. Yet strangely, Poussin painted another painting, very similar and also on the Death in Arcadia theme, a few years earlier. In that version, the shepherds and the woman are visibly shocked to discover the message. There’s also a skull on top of the tomb. It’s much more sombre.’

‘So he changed his mind. Suddenly death wasn’t so scary.’

Hal smiled. ‘My conclusion exactly. But why? And this is where it gets stranger. “
Et in Arcadia Ego
” is an anagram of the Latin phrase “
I Tego Arcana Dei
”, which means “Begone! I conceal the secrets of God”.’

Hal saw the light of inspiration rise up in Samantha’s face in the same way he had felt it when he first made the connection.

‘The secrets of God,’ she whispered. ‘So the tomb could hide this weapon or whatever it is? Would it be that literal? Somewhere there’s a tomb with a weapon in it?’

‘I don’t know. Trying to piece these things together is a nightmare because you can’t work out what’s fact and what’s your imagination joining non-existent dots. For instance, there’s a popular myth linking Poussin’s painting to the Knights Templar, and Mallory, the man who found the Wish Stone, was trained at Salisbury to be a member of the new Knights Templar order that the Church, or what’s left of it, is establishing.’

‘This all sounds like some bizarre conspiracy theory.’

‘I know. And it gets worse. The image released by the Stone is a near-reversal of the painting, and on the estate at Shugborough Hall in Staffordshire there’s a stone carving in the gardens of
The Shepherds of Arcadia
with the same back-to-front positioning of the figures.’

‘I visited there when I was a girl,’ Samantha said. ‘It was lovely, very peaceful.’

‘Shugborough’s history has lots of odd little sidelines which may or may not be relevant.’ Hal took a sip of the moonshine as he sought out one particular book. He spoke as he flicked through the pages to get the names and dates he needed. ‘The grounds were laid out in seventeen forty-eight to forty-nine by Thomas Wright, a self-taught mathematician with an interest in the esoteric. He used to tour Britain drawing what he called “druidic” remains, and in seventeen fifty he published a book called
An Original Theory of the Universe
. It was the first book to explain the Milky Way as our view through a galaxy. But Wright also had very strong views about the existence of an infinite number of universes, or dimensions, or whatever you want to call them, all radiating out from a divine centre. There was a revival of druidism at the time, and this was one of the ideas that came out of that.’

‘How does that fit in?’

‘I’m not sure, except coincidences are cropping up all over the place and I’m not sure any more that they are coincidences. One of those defenders of humanity I spoke about has set up a college at Glastonbury to teach druidic knowledge. And Wright was brought to Shugborough by two men, Roger Gale and the Earl of Pembroke, who had both worked with the famous antiquarian William Stukeley, surveying Stonehenge and Avebury.’

‘So we’re talking about old mysteries, other dimensions, Utopia …’ Samantha came to stand next to Hal, leaning over him so closely that he could smell the scent of her skin. It was almost overpowering.

Struggling to concentrate, he continued, ‘The owner of Shugborough, Thomas Anson, was also interested in these old mysteries. Anson commissioned the Shepherds’ Monument in seventeen forty-eight, at the same time as he had his dining room built. And that room featured Isis and Serapis, who are Alexandrian mystery-cult deities. Anson was a curious character. He was a member of the Royal Society and supported the most advanced scientific thinkers, including Erasmus Darwin and Josiah Wedgwood, but he was also a member of the Divan Club, one of the lesser Hellfire Clubs founded by Sir Francis Dashwood, who revelled in immorality. And where does that leave us? Lots of facts … and little else, just the hint of something waiting to be found.’

Samantha mulled this over for a moment and then said, ‘I think we need to go to Shugborough, don’t you?’

‘You and me?’

‘Who else? Mister Reid will want you to investigate it fully. You can ask for me to come along to help you with your research. There won’t be a problem. Unless you don’t want me to come?’

‘No, I do, very much,’ Hal said hastily. ‘But it’s dangerous out there. We don’t know how far the enemy have advanced—’

‘Stop making excuses and start making plans!’ Samantha gave him a wink and a smile that was unknowingly sexy before she slipped out of the door. Suddenly Hal was left with the feeling that everything was going right.

It was still half an hour until dawn as Sophie raced from Ceridwen’s temple back to the walls, but long before she reached them she knew the attack was imminent. Huge braziers of oil burst into flame like miniature suns along the great expanse of the ramparts, and a resounding cry rang up from the guards whose armour now gleamed golden in the firelight.

Sophie was breathless by the time she reached the top of the winding stone steps where the warm wind buffeted her after its journey across the vast plain. Thackeray came over anxiously.

‘I thought you were going to miss the action,’ he said edgily. He kept glancing back towards the vertiginous drop to the ground far below.

‘What’s happening?’

‘They’re massing at the foot of the walls.’

‘What do they hope to do?’ Sophie asked. ‘They’ll never be able to use ladders to climb this high. I thought they’d be relying on those weird machines to pound us into dust.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

Thackeray took her to the wall. Sophie felt dizzy when she looked straight down, but the discomfort was quickly subsumed by a creeping uneasiness when she saw the little men swarming like ants against the monolithic stone blocks at the base of the walls.

At that moment, Lugh made his way on to a raised stone platform that jutted out from the battlements over the city. It was dominated by a flagpole made of silver from which Lugh’s solar standard fluttered. Along the ramparts, the gods fell silent. As one,
they turned to face Lugh, a majestic figure, tall and proud and strong.

‘These are dark times.’ His voice rang out like a clarion over the Court of Soul’s Ease. ‘Brother against brother. The Golden Ones riven. Who would ever have thought such a day would come? Since the days of our great wandering from the four shining cities of our eternal home, we have been as one, united by a single belief, bound to the heart of Existence.

‘But all has changed. We, here, in the Court of Soul’s Ease, still maintain that single belief. It is others who have strayed from the path of faith, who have turned against everything that binds us. All we hold close to our hearts is now at risk, for if our brothers find victory in the coming battle, they will be on another path. No longer Golden Ones, for we are what we believe. Therefore, do not think that you fight against your brother. Do not waste your heart in anguish at this crime against Existence. Rather, believe that you fight for the essence of who we are. You fight for our long traditions and belief. You fight for what has gone … and for what is yet to come.’

Lugh lifted his helmet and placed it firmly on his head. A resounding roar rang across the rooftops of the court as the defending forces raised their weapons high. Defiant and proud, Lugh pushed his way into the heart of the throng and moved to a central position, ready to fight shoulder to shoulder with his troops.

‘You can see why the Celts were so in awe of these gods when they first ventured into our world,’ Sophie said to Thackeray.

She looked round for Caitlin and found her standing precariously on a gargoyle jutting out from the battlements, oblivious to the gulf beneath her or the winds that pulled her this way and that. The power of the Morrigan shone out of her like a black light, passionate, resolute, brutal. The warriors in her vicinity gave her a wide berth, casting quick glances in her direction, then looking away in case she saw them.

Sophie turned and grabbed Thackeray, who was also staring at Caitlin anxiously. ‘Time’s running out,’ she said. ‘I need you to help me.’

‘What can I do?’

‘This isn’t our fight. We have to get back home where we’re needed—’

‘Look over here!’ Sophie was interrupted by Harvey, who was clinging to the ramparts as he peered over the side. Sophie and Thackeray rushed to his side and looked down queasily from the heights into the sea of shadows at the bottom. There was movement in the centre of the dark.

‘What’s going on?’ Thackeray squinted, trying to pierce the gloom.

‘Look! Look!’ Harvey said, stabbing his finger frantically at something only he could see.

But as Sophie and Thackeray stared, their eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom, and then their hearts began to beat faster.

‘They don’t need ladders,’ Sophie said. ‘They don’t need anything.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Thackeray’s voice had fallen to a whisper. ‘They’re going to swarm over us like insects.’

The little men were climbing up the walls along the whole length of the monolithic barrier. Their relentless progress was conducted with an obscene scurrying motion that made them resemble spiders, arms and legs outstretched on either side of them, heads close to the wall, eyes never deviating from their target. Sophie couldn’t tell whether their fingers and toes were finding minute cracks and crevices or if they were sticking to the stone through magical means or some innate ability that came with their devolved state. Hundreds of them were moving upwards, rapidly becoming thousands. There was something about the upward swarming of the black specks that made Sophie’s stomach churn.

‘We should fight,’ Thackeray said, distracted by the sight.

‘What? Are you mad?’ Harvey shouted, his Birmingham accent growing thicker with his anxiety. ‘What can we do against that?’

Thackeray looked from Harvey to Sophie. ‘The gods are helping us out – we’re the reason they’re in this mess. The least we can do is lend a hand to stop them being overrun. I mean, how hard can it be? We just drop things on them to knock them off the wall.’

‘Look how many there are!’ Harvey protested. ‘Everything inside the city will be outside, and they’ll still be climbing up!’

In Thackeray’s face, Sophie saw the decency and bravery that had been hidden from her before. He was a normal person trying
to do the right thing in a nightmarish situation. The least she could do was help.

‘You two run off, find whatever weapons you can,’ she said. ‘I’m going to stay here and do my bit.’

‘You’re going to get all witchy?’ Harvey said suspiciously.

‘Just go.’